Sticks and Stones (30 page)

Ty clambered out of the water, struggling over slippery rocks, probably frozen already and unable to feel the fingers he was using to scratch his way to dry land. Once he was clear of the steep riverbank, he turned and waved to them like they hadn’t been watching him like hawks the entire time. The rope on his chest was visibly tugging him, obviously still caught on something large. After he was sure he’d gotten their attention, he yanked at the line a few good times until it came loose, almost sending him falling backward as the tension was released.

Deuce sat back down with a relieved thud and closed his eyes for a moment, rubbing at his forehead. Earl finally tore his eyes from the riverbank in order to finish rolling their supplies into dry packs.

“Lucky son of a bitch,” one of the two prisoners muttered grudgingly.

Zane turned to slog back up onto the bank and looked over the four men with him. “Deuce, why don’t you go next? Then there will be two of you over there when we send one of them.” He jerked a thumb at Earflaps and Redjacket.

“Good plan,” Deuce muttered as he began to strip his clothing just as Ty had done. They stuffed his and Ty’s things into one of the waterproof packs with as many supplies as they could, and Deuce slung it over his shoulders as Earl worked the winch.

On the other side of the rushing water, Ty had found a tree to secure the heavy nylon line to. When the winch pulled it tight and it held, Zane could see Ty’s shoulders slump in relief. He felt like slumping himself. But not yet. He watched as Ty picked up a handful of leaves from the ground and began rubbing his bare skin down, trying to dry himself before he got too cold. They needed to hurry.

“Ready to go?” he asked Deuce.

Deuce sighed as he looked at Zane, but his lips quirked into a wry smile as he nodded. “I just wish I could think of something clever to say,” he admitted as he put his hand on the taut line and began to follow it into the water. “Holy shit, it’s cold!” he called out as the water lapped at his bare ankles, but he kept moving anyway.

Zane rolled his eyes, put his hands on his hips, and turned on their prisoners. “Who’s next?” he asked pleasantly. They both sat staring at him as if he was out of his mind. Studying them, Zane thought he might understand why Ty got that look of unholy glee in his eyes sometimes. “Right then. I nominate you.” He pointed at Redjacket. “All in favor?” He raised his hand.

Beside him, Earl raised his hand as well without taking his eyes off Deuce. Earflaps quickly raised both hands, since they were lashed together.

Redjacket snarled at him. “Put your hands down, idiot.”

“The ayes have it.” Zane grabbed Redjacket by the arms and started propelling him toward the water.

Earl watched them distractedly, his attention torn between them and Deuce as he struggled out of the water on the other side. He breathed a sigh of relief as Ty grabbed Deuce by the forearm and yanked him up the slippery bank to safety. He turned to Zane and stepped close enough to speak to him in a low voice. “Don’t you think we should cross with them?”

“Too risky for us,” Zane reasoned as he watched Redjacket inch into the water. Earl looked at him in confusion for a moment and then turned to watch Redjacket’s progress. The man had stopped and dug in just short of the water, and Zane shrugged. In one smooth motion, he pulled his gun and fired a shot that hit and skidded through the wet dirt at Redjacket’s feet, sending him scurrying into the water with a yell.

“You asshole! You’re gonna kill me!” he bawled. But he grabbed the rope, put it to his back to have support against the strength of the rushing water, and started moving deeper into the current.

Across the water, Ty and Deuce had stopped getting dressed and were both shouting unintelligibly at them. Zane glanced at Earl to see if he was making out what they were saying.

“I think they’re asking you not to shoot at them again,” Earl answered, his lips almost twitching into a smile.

Zane smiled and gestured significantly with the weapon when Redjacket looked back at them obstinately. The longer he tarried, the colder he would get. They hadn’t allowed him to remove his clothing, and Zane didn’t care if he caught ill. He raised his gun again threateningly. Across the water, Ty and Deuce both scrambled to take cover behind large trees in case Zane fired again. Earl actually chuckled as he moved to start collecting any leftover equipment he could gather.

Redjacket inched into the rushing water, holding tight to the rope with both hands and looking back at Zane with every other step as he waded through the water. He was about halfway across, being barraged by rushing water and all the small debris that came with it, when he stopped and looked back at Zane furtively. This look was different, and Zane tensed. Redjacket squared his shoulders and stood up straight—as straight as he could in the pounding waves—and he deliberately let go of the rope and ducked under it, letting the current take him. He was risking death at the hands of the river in order to attempt an escape.

“Damn fool,” Earflaps grunted, loud enough that Zane heard.

Zane glanced downriver, seeing how the water crashed against the rocky sides of the ravine indiscriminately, smashing up branches and anything else in its path. “Ty!” he yelled, taking two fast steps down to the water and pointing.

On the other side, Ty and Deuce were both scrambling down the steep embankment, trying to get ahead of the man and snag him before he was swept away beyond rescue. Earl grabbed at Zane again as the current took Redjacket into the middle of the river and buffeted him against the whitecaps being made by the rocks underneath the surface. “Won’t do to kill yourself over him,” Earl said to Zane breathlessly as he held him back. They began running along the bank instead, trying in vain to find something that would stop his progress.

It soon became apparent that Redjacket was no longer swimming to get away. He screamed silently at them as he flailed in the rapids. He was caught in an eddy that swirled with broken sticks and debris, all swamping him as he struggled to free himself from the grasp of the whirlpool.

Ty and Deuce reached the bank where they were nearest him, but they were still too far to reach him and drag him out, and neither man appeared to be willing to swim into the maelstrom the water created just a little further downstream. The only reason Ty hadn’t been swept away was because he’d kept himself close to the bottom, where the water was calmer and there were handholds to pull on. The treasure hunter hadn’t stood a chance trying it like he had.

Zane closed his eyes, letting the roar of the water fill his ears after he saw a large tree limb crash into Redjacket’s back and the man slipped into the roiling flood, carried limply away.

After a few moments of nothing but the overwhelming rush of water, the sound of Ty’s voice finally drifted to them. They couldn’t hear what he was saying even though he was shouting at them and waving, pointing toward the rope and the ATV.

“Let’s go,” Zane said shortly as he opened his eyes and walked back to the ATV where Earflaps was frozen in place, staring at the water.

“Best we send him next,” Earl told Zane sedately with a nod of his head at their lone remaining prisoner. He still had to shout to be heard.

Zane walked over to the man, who eyed him warily. “Just hold onto the rope, and you’ll be fine,” Zane said in something resembling reassurance. And after a moment’s deliberation of the man’s mental state, Zane drew one of his knives and sliced through the rope and tape binding his wrists.

Earflaps blinked down at his hands and then at Zane. “Thanks. I think,” he mumbled as he removed most of his outer clothing and then shuffled into the water.

They watched him make his way precariously across the burgeoning water, gripping the nylon line so tight his knuckles were white by the time he was a yard away from them. Zane slowly removed his own clothes, stuffing them into the bag Earl indicated.

Earl zipped up the last remaining pack and hoisted it. “That’s all we’re gonna be able to take with us,” he told Zane worriedly. Their clothing and shoes had taken up much of the room in the packs, and only the necessary supplies remained.

Zane turned his attention to Earl. “How far off do you think we are?”

Earl sighed and squinted his eyes, shaking his head as if trying to remember a map. “If we’re where I think we are, it’s still a good two, three days’ walk before we see a ranger,” he finally decided. “And that’s only if we’re where I think we are,” he repeated as he looked up at the sky. They hadn’t been able to see the stars at night for some time due to the cloud cover.

“So another couple bags would be a good thing, just in case,” Zane surmised, studying the older man.

Earl was already shaking his head. “Ain’t worth the danger,” he told Zane firmly. He pointed at the wheels of the ATV, which were already sliding dangerously toward the water. “Plus, you and Ty both already been wet for too long,” he added as he pointed at Zane’s soaked jeans. “This water’s coming from the peaks. Go back across another time and you won’t make it before you’re frozen.”

“Let’s get moving then,” Zane said, looking across the water and steeling himself to cross the frigid expanse. “We’ll have to make do without the rest.”

T
HE
five of them sat hunched around a fire they’d all cussed over before getting started. After Zane and Earl had waded across the river with everything they could keep dry, they’d all been shaking so badly it had taken attempts from each of them before Ty had managed to get the matches to work.

Deuce was thankful they’d been able to keep the blankets and extra clothing. He was pretty sure they would all freeze if they were still wet, because it was getting colder as the sun set. After the trial of crossing the river—and losing the man they’d known only as Redjacket—no one mentioned trying to gear up and get any farther before nightfall. Dinner was slow cooking, mainly because they were all too listless and exhausted to mess with it. But as Deuce warmed a little, the psychiatrist in him began to have a fit.

So far two men were dead; Zane had shot one and they’d watched one pretty much commit suicide trying to escape justice. Deuce supposed Redjacket could be alive somewhere downstream. In his opinion it was unlikely. So unlikely that they’d elected not to waste time and energy trying to find him. He glanced to Earflaps, sprawled on the ground on the far side of the fire, trussed up and snoring noisily.

Deuce looked up across the fire at Earl, who sat staring into the flames with a frown set on his face. It didn’t seem the time or the place to address any issues pertaining to his father and Ty, did it? Or was he just terrified of doing it and being in the middle? He shook his head and glanced to the side, where Ty and Zane sat next to one another. Ty was hunched over and rocking slightly, just like he always did when he let his self-control slip a little. And it was probably serving a secondary purpose of keeping him warm.

It was alternately fascinating and painful, watching Ty and Zane together. They fought and they argued, sometimes cruelly. But Ty had brought Zane up here, hoping Deuce would help him, and Zane had been willing to leap into that river with nothing but dumb luck as a lifeline just on the off chance that he might be able to help Ty. They were a study in extremes, and as much as they denied it, they seemed well matched. After watching Zane take Ty’s face in his hands and lean forward to speak to him—when it had very much looked like he’d been about to kiss him—Deuce suspected they were better matched than they knew themselves. But that wasn’t really a topic Deuce could bring up now, either, not in front of Earl.

Deuce squeezed his eyes closed and massaged the bridge of his nose, fighting a headache. “So, Ty,” he finally decided on, tired of the tense silence. “That was some distraction ploy you used back in the camp,” he complimented, looking at his brother closely in the flickering light. “How’d you know they wouldn’t shoot you?”

Ty looked up at him blankly, appearing not to understand. “What?” he asked in confusion. Zane turned his chin, watching Ty with a small frown.

“Yelling at the assholes with guns,” Deuce provided with a small smile. “Pretending you were losing it.”

Ty pressed his lips together tightly and then looked back down at the tin plate he held. “Yeah,” he answered flatly.

Deuce continued to look at him. So, mental breakdown and not a clever ploy, then. That was good to know, at any rate. Just as worrisome were the slight changes on Zane’s face when Deuce glanced at him; the frown went flat, Zane’s eyes narrowed, and then he squeezed them shut for a few seconds before reopening them and focusing on Ty again.

“You were pretending, right?” Deuce asked Ty.

Ty looked up and glared at him.

“He’s a dumbass for doin’ the yellin’,” Earl stated, pulling his blanket tighter around his shoulders.

Deuce looked over at his father as his head began to pound harder. “Dad,” he said in frustration. “Would you just shut the hell up for one fucking minute?”

Earl looked up slowly, looking at Deuce in shock. Ty stared at Deuce with much the same expression Earl was, his mouth slightly agape. Zane snorted and ducked his head as he rubbed at his eyes.

“Is there a reason you’re on his case more than usual, or are you just getting meaner in your old age? ’Cause you sure as hell ain’t gettin’ smarter,” Deuce snapped.

“Deacon,” Ty said softly, his voice surprised and full of dread.

Deuce didn’t look away from his father. He saw Earl’s jaw tighten as he ground his teeth. Neither of his sons had ever spoken to him like that. In fact, Deuce was pretty sure
no one
had ever spoken to Earl Grady like that and walked away except perhaps for Mara. Earl looked as if he was about to say something, but then he began to nod slowly, and he sighed. He looked from Deuce to Ty slowly. Ty met his eyes, though he did so with clear trepidation, and he shifted nervously where he sat. Deuce thought he might have caught sight of Zane’s hand gently settling on Ty’s leg.

“He’s right,” Earl said to Ty in a rough voice. “I’m sorry, boy,” he offered.