Ripples (14 page)

“Don’t worry. I can take care of myself.”

I tap “End Call,” and sit down to rummage through my pack. I recall a cranky old neighbor from back when Ellen and I were first married. The neighbor lined the border of her yard with ammonia to keep dogs from peeing and crapping on her grass. Would have round-filed that memory, but my first big M&A deal involved a clever product that took the sting out of insect-bites. Its active ingredient was ammonia packaged in small pencil-sized vials so you could smear a couple drops directly on a bite.

Who would have guessed? The same stuff that keeps dogs from peeing also stops insect-bites from itching. I dig through my backpack.

Voila. Four vials. Too bad I left the rest in my desk at home. Back when I handled the merger, folks thought I was a genius when I handed out samples at cocktail parties and barbeques.

I throw on my pack and start hiking.

Mercedes

I
stare across the meadow at the two of them, RJ sitting behind her on the stallion, his hands on hers while she holds the reins. If that girl lets him make a move on her, I swear she’ll wish she was dealing with Bryce. That boy’s not teaching her squat.

I watch over my shoulder as I walk into the hut. A bit later when the two come through the door—him laughing, her smiling, which she never does—I pretend not to notice. But my back is tighter than a bowstring as I work on the rabbit I bagged for dinner.

RJ asks how ‘we’ can help.

I wheel around. “So you’ve decided to give riding lessons. When do I get my turn?”

RJ shrugs. “Sorry, I thought you didn’t like horses.”

“Life’s not about what we like. It’s about surviving.”

“I know. I just thought—”

“Yeah. You just thought about what you wanted.”

“Honest. I just thought you didn’t want to.”

“I tore my feet up running through the woods because I couldn’t ride a damn horse. And I did it to save her ass.” I point my knife at Amy. “Next time, it’ll be my ass I worry about. And, my feet.”

RJ rolls his eyes.

“I’m not blind. I can see what’s going on here. You’re just trying to get into her pants.”

“Please.”

“Don’t 'please' me.”

Amy steps in front of RJ. “I’m the one who should be pissed, not you.”

RJ and I stare at her. Where’d this Amy come from? Her? Pissed?

“What are you staring at? I’m the one who got left behind for two years of hell. And, if you didn’t want me around, why’d you risk your neck rescuing me?”

RJ shoots me a stupid grin. I search my brain for a snarky reply. Instead I blurt out, “It’s the last time I’m saying this. Pull your weight or you don’t eat.” I stab the rabbit carcass with my knife.

He sighs. “Tomorrow morning, first thing, I’ll teach you how to ride.”

Amy picks up the water bucket and heads for the door. RJ follows. She stops and holds up a hand. “I can handle this.”

When Amy is out of earshot, RJ turns to me. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Me? I’m not the one playing the hero so I can sleep with her.”

“I thought you were the one who knows what’s real.”

“I know what I saw.”

“Oh, I get it. You’re jealous.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I didn’t know you were into girls. It didn’t even occur to me that you guys were … you know… that you two had something going before you ran away.”

“Shut up—jerk.”

“Hey, if you want her she’s yours.” RJ throws up his hands.

My jaw drops.

His eyes grow wide. “I mean, did you run off because you got into some kind of fight?”

“No, you freak. I ran away because I was being raped. Every other night he had one or the other of us. Sometimes both.” I start to sob.

RJ holds out his hands. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t touch me.” I fold my arms across my chest. “I’ll decide when I wanna be touched.”

RJ looks away.

I glare at him. “Make yourself useful and get us some firewood.”

After taking a couple steps toward the door, he turns back. “My mom brought a different guy home almost every night—most were druggies or drunks. Listening to them carrying on turned my stomach. Actually made me throw up a few times.” He shuffles his feet. “There are times I want you to touch me. But when you get close, all I can think is—my mother’s a whore and I don’t even know who my father was.”

“Join the club. Bryce brought Amy to us when she was about four. Said he ‘found’ her. Never could tell with him. Anyway, her folks never bothered to come after her.”

“Maybe she was lucky.”

“Lucky? Bryce treated her like garbage. Always made her feel like something he kept around just to be used. Nothing could be worse than Bryce.” My voice goes hoarse. “That monster. Anybody who gives him a face full of buckshot … they deserve a medal.”

RJ’s eyes are misty. He clears his throat. “What about you?”

“Damn bastard. He called me ‘special.’’’ I almost choke on the words. “But here’s what’s real—that bitch Tess never lifted a finger to stop him even though she claimed to be my mother. At least I know Bryce wasn’t my father. She said the louse who knocked her up was a worse loser than him.”

“Jeez. And I thought my old lady was bad news.”

“No big deal. Not sure I believe her. She’s such a liar.”

“Why would she lie about shit like that?”

I shrug. “Lying’s in her blood.”

RJ stuffs his hands in his pockets. “You know … we can make it. We just have to pull together.” He nods toward the door. “I’ll get some firewood. You okay?”

“Go. I’m fine. But thanks for asking.”

As soon as he’s outside, RJ’s shouts, “Mercedes! Get out here."

I rush to the door. “What?”

“It’s Amy. She’s taken off.”

“She’s what? Why would she …?”

The water bucket Amy was taking to the stream is lying on its side a few feet from the door. I look around for signs of her. She’s nowhere in sight.

RJ points to the tree where he’d tied the horses. “The mare and her saddle are gone.”

I scan the horizon. Nothing.

He bolts for the stallion. “I’m going after her. She could get herself in real trouble.”

“Wait. I’m coming with you. Let me get the crossbow.” I head back inside.

He calls after me. “You’ll have to teach me how to use that … so I can start pulling my weight.”

When I come back out of the hut, RJ has just finished cinching the saddle. He turns and his mouth gapes. He’s eyeing the two shotguns I’m balancing on my shoulders. “Where the hell did you …?”

“
Picked up this one at your uncle’s place, and found this one in the woods a few nights ago.” I hand him the one from the woods. “You know how to use it?”

He studies me as he reaches for it. “Yeah. But it works best with ammo.”

I pull some shells out of a side pocket of my quiver. “You mean these?”

RJ grins. “Where did …?”

“Your uncle’s.”

Amy

I drop the reins and stroke the mare’s neck, let her graze on the tall grass. I take a deep breath, deeper than I’ve ever breathed before. Taste the fresh air. Never thought I’d control anything, let alone an animal this big. RJ’s riding lessons have opened my eyes. I do have power. I’m free.

I grit my teeth. But, I’m not going to trade one set of bullies for another. Back at the hut, when I threw the bucket on the ground and saddled the mare the way RJ taught me, freedom was the only thing on my mind. Now that I’ve had a taste, all I know is I want more.

I look up at the horizon. Somewhere out there is a new start. With storm clouds gathering off to the left, that somewhere must be to the right. I take the reins and nudge the ‘old girl’ to ‘giddy up.’

The mare snorts and jerks her head. A bear cub scampers into the meadow ahead of us. The horse rears back. The mare’s front legs land hard and she bolts to the right, breaking into a gallop. I lose my grip on the reins. My arms and legs flail. I tumble to the hard ground. Pain shoots through my elbow, shoulder, neck.

I try to sit up … fall back. Raindrops splat on my face. I shiver, chilly and tingly all over. My arms sink to my sides. I start floating … like a feather in the wind. It’s dark now.

RJ

The first half mile out from the hut—Mercedes and me riding double on the stallion—we have an easy time following Amy. The afternoon sun at our backs highlights hoof prints in a thin layer of dusty topsoil. But as heavy black clouds sweep in from the east and fill the sky, shadows make our job tougher. Mercedes’ keen eyes aren’t good enough.

She leans forward into me and tightens her grip on the saddle horn, digging her elbows into my sides. "Those clouds don't look friendly," she mutters.

I spur the stallion forward. After a few yards, I rein him in and lean down to study the ground. A large raindrop splatters on the back of my neck. I wipe it away and nudge the animal to the left. "Hope this storm holds off. It'll be impossible to track her if it rains too hard."

Mercedes shifts her weight on the back of the saddle. "Thunderstorms freak me out."

"It's just like fireworks … the Fourth of July."

"Maybe to you. But you don't see Bryce in every flash of lightning."

Her body stiffens against my back as I prod the horse forward.

As the sun disappears into the black sky, solitary raindrops grow into solid sheets of water. The hard-packed ground turns to mud. I shiver at the quick drop in temperature, and no amount of shaking can unglue my shirt and jeans from my skin.

Mercedes clutches me tighter around the waist, burrowing her face into my wet back. She winces at every clap of thunder. When lightning strikes so close it’s just a white light all around us, I turn the stallion into a nearby stand of trees for shelter. "There's no use," I shout over the rain.

As our feet hit the ground, Mercedes throws her arms around me and nests her body against my chest. She’s trembling. I cup the back of her head and draw her close, pressing my cheek into her wet, musty hair.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers into my shoulder. “All this is my fault.”

I pull back and clutch her face, forcing her to look at me. “Why?”

“It was my tantrum. She didn’t want to make either of us mad. She'll do anything to keep the peace."

I let go of her. "How’s taking blame going to fix anything?"

"I figured if she thought I was jealous, she'd back off like she always does."

"And do what?"

"I don’t know. I didn’t expect her to run away."

“She did. So think about it. Is there any special place? Somewhere she’d go? ”

“Back to Tess and ….”

"Even after—?"

"Maybe she thought it was her only choice. Or that … he … he and Tess might go easy on her if she came back with her tail between her legs. She always does whatever … whatever keeps them happy."

"Jeez. She's one messed up chick."

"Yeah, aren't we all ….."

“If she’s going back to him, she’s headed the wrong way.”

“She’s probably lost. Can’t imagine she knows her way around well enough to make it back to them. Bryce never let her wander far from the shack. She could have gone any direction. Maybe she’s wandering in circles.”

“That could be for the best. I’d take my chances with coyotes and bears over that creep any day.”

“Maybe Bryce isn’t a problem anymore.”

“How’s that?”

She shrugs. “Just saying. If he was smart, he’d be long gone—before the law or someone else catches up with him. He’s a murderer—molester. He’s bound to get what he deserves.”

“My money’s on the mare. She probably headed back to the barn as soon as she smelled the storm coming.” I take Mercedes hand and lead her to the driest spot I can find. “When this downpour is over, we’ll head to the ranch and see if she’s there.”

The storm’s finally letting up, but the sun will be setting in a couple of hours. Four deputies are out there pounding a 400 square mile grid, and I still haven’t found a K-9 team. Those men might as well be stumbling around in the dark. I slam my fist on the railing of Chandler’s deck.

My dispatcher’s voice crackles over the radio strapped on my shoulder.

I snap back, “Give me some good news.”

“Best we can do right now is an air sniffer dog from an SAR volunteer crew. They don’t track like bloodhounds, they just get whiffs of any human in the area.”

“Yeah. Let’s just hope Chandler is the only human out there. Do you have an ETA?”

“Should be there in under an hour.”

“Roger that.” I stretch my neck side to side. It pops.

The radio crackles again. “Boss, Grimes here.”

“Go, Grimes.”

“Boss, we’re losing daylight.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“What do you want us to do?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Give it another hour, then come on in. With any luck, we’ll have an air sniffing dog by then.”

“Sure hope there’s something left for the dog to sniff after that squall washed everything clean.”

I hunker down under an old cedar a couple hundred feet from the ranch house and let the storm pass. This is the place the neighbor led me to a few nights ago. The yellow tape cordoning off the house and barn says it’s a crime-scene. It’s got to be the place Carl mentioned on the phone. I stay put, even when a rider-less horse gallops into the corral. About nightfall a dog barks in the distance. The way noise travels after sunset, it could be over a mile away.

Now and then, the moon appears through gaps in shape-shifting clouds as they crawl across the slate-black sky. Each time the moon exposes itself I freeze, hoping that if anyone’s standing guard they’ll take me for part of the landscape. When the moonlight ebbs, I creep towards the barn. I’ve never ridden a horse, and wouldn’t be attempting it now if it wasn’t for those damn tracking dogs on my scent.

Mercedes insists I tie the stallion to a tree up in the woods about a quarter mile from the ranch house—just in case the place is swarming with sheriff’s deputies. We leave the crossbow with the horse, along with one of the shotguns, and slip down to a spot at the edge of the trees overlooking the corral.