The Family

Chapter 3

…

They were all waiting for him when he led Honcho down off the mountain. It had been a lonely ride, one full of fear and wild thoughts. As much as he wanted to help the horse, leaving his father had been hard. Ever since Lily had brought that evil man, Scarabaeus, into their world, his belief that his father was invincible had been shaken. He could lose him, just like George was now lost. Memories from his childhood rushed back. He had always felt alone back then, even when he was with his mama. Her focus had always been on Billy and survival. Why she never took him and ran was a question he still struggled with, but she'd done the best she could. She had loved him but was crippled by a deep fear that held them both captive.

The family waiting for him in the distance had been a revelation, one that he now feared would change, and the thought of it made him sad. The life he had counted on since his father found him and brought him here now felt unstable. If they didn't find George the ranch would become something different, and he had no idea what that would look like or feel like. Someone had tried to kill George. He didn't doubt that at all, not after what Scarabaeus had done to his father and his uncles, and to Lily. That they were vulnerable and had almost died had scared him badly, but he'd never spoken about it with anyone, except Grampa George. Now the man who knew how frightened he'd become had been shot at and could be lying dead somewhere up in the Sierra Madre. His father would want him to be tough, so he did his best to hide his fear and sense of dread as he approached his waiting family.

Honcho groaned when they stopped, and Jim Littleshield walked over and ran his hand down his sweating neck. He took the reins from Soldier's hand, then pulled the boy to him. He spoke to him softly in Arapaho and Soldier nodded, wiping his eyes quickly, afraid someone might notice his tears.

"How are you doing, mon petite chou?" Lily asked as she reached over and gently patted his back.

"Fine, I guess."

"It is okay to be afraid, Soldier. We all are."

Soldier wanted to be angry with her, to push her away. But her voice was soft, and her kindness touched him, so he simply nodded. She was a strong person, and he admired that, even though at times he resented it. She was nothing like his mother, and he suddenly realized he had been holding that against her since she moved in. He didn't understand why. When Joe's cellphone rang, it was a welcome distraction.

"Hey, brother. Did you find Dad?" Joe asked and then paused, his eyes suddenly on Soldier and Lily. "Is he okay?"

Soldier looked at Lily, who suddenly gripped his arm. "Joe? Is Elan hurt?"

Her voice trembled and Soldier held his breath, fearing the worst.

"They were attacked by the men who shot Honcho. Elan took a bullet in the arm, but he's okay. It was a through and through."

"Is Marty okay?" Littleshield asked.

"Yeah. They both are," Joe said as he mounted his chestnut gelding. "There were three of the bastards. They managed to take down two of them but the other one got away on an ATV. I need to call Sheriff Sogard. He'll need to send a team up to recover the bodies."

"Will you be part of the team?" Lily asked.

"Hell no. I'm going after Elan and Marty. They're backtracking Honcho. From the description they gave me, I know where Dad went this morning. He took me up there a couple of times after my brother Christopher was killed. It was one of my mom's favorite places for a picnic when they were first married."

"I'm coming with you," Lily said.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Joe replied. "It'll be rough going up there."

"Did you forget I was French Intelligence?"

"Did you forget you're a lousy rider?" Joe asked with a smirk.

"She's getting better, Uncle Joe," Soldier said. "Papa's been teaching her."

"Thank you, chouchou," Lily said softly, squeezing his arm before turning to stare down Joe. "I am armed, mon frère, and I am coming. I cannot let you go alone. Not after last time."

"Then climb on that little sorrel mare of yours and let's move," Joe said, a shadow of pain in his eyes. "Call Di for me Uncle Jim. We might be up there a while."

Joe quickly called the sheriff as he led the way back up into the Sierra Madre. Soldier leaned against Honcho and the horse groaned. Littleshield mounted up and prepared to lead him down to the barn. Soldier watched Lily and Joe until they disappeared into the trees. He wanted to follow but knew his father wouldn't want him to. Papa was always protective of him, but what his father didn't realized was he felt the same way about him. After watching his recovery from what Scarabaeus did to him, protecting his father was all he thought about whenever he was out of his sight. He felt a deep sense of relief when Lily had insisted on going with Joe. He knew she would fight to protect him. She loved him. And as hard as it was for him to admit, that love made her family.

"Tough to just stay home and wait, boy," Uncle Jim said as they started the ride down to the ranch. "But Honcho will need our care once the vet's finished. George will be grateful for it when he gets home."

Soldier hoped that was true. He wanted them all home. Especially his papa. He had come close to losing him once and it had terrified him. It was why he had become jealous of Lily. His papa was the center of his world. Without him nothing would be the same. As much as he wanted Grampa George to be okay, for him there would be no family without his papa. So, he took one last look back up the mountain and tried to control his lingering fear.

…

George rested, breathing hard after his trek through the aspen grove. As much as he'd wanted to climb the ridge, he knew he didn't have the strength. Not wanting to run into the men who had attacked him, he was working his way around the meadow. It would take longer to get home this way, but it was his only choice. His leg was throbbing now, and his mouth was painfully dry. In the back of his mind he could almost hear Littleshield scolding him in Arapaho, but also encouraging him in the same breath. He was probably hallucinating, but his old cousin's voice was a comfort as he stumbled from tree to tree, trying not to trip over the rocks and exposed roots. The soft white trunks of the towering aspens that surrounded him brought his wife Josie's voice to mind. She had always had such confidence in his abilities, something he was doubting right now. He had no idea how long he'd been walking, but he finally paused to listen, smiling when he heard the soft music of a rippling creek. He could almost taste the cool water and pushed on with all the strength he had left. He was on his knees as soon as he reached it, palming handfuls of water to his mouth and pouring more over his head and the back of his neck.

"Damn that tastes good."

He looked up when he heard a horse nicker. George sat back on his haunches, staring at the Appaloosa named Heck. The animal stood just upstream, nodding its head and pawing the soft ground. He still had a halter on and looked to be in fairly good shape. George noticed a small cut just above his knee, but other than that, the crazy horse looked fine.

"I'll be damned. Are you real or have I gone completely 'round the bend?"

The animal answered with a snort, and George wondered if the sonofagun was feeling homesick. Apparently he'd forgotten all about throwing him. His attitude had shifted. Spending time alone without regular feedings and the company of other horses had taken the edge off his anger at the world.

They both heard the sound of an ATV at the same time. George's heart jumped and he quickly rose and limped over to hide behind a couple of aspens. The horse reared its head and snorted, its ears pricked forward toward the sound. He actually started toward it as the noise intensified, surprising the hell out of George. The ATV appeared just below the edge of the aspen grove, being driven like a bat outa hell. The driver slowed down when he saw Heck, and the demented horse fake charged the machine, making the driver swerve and bounce over the disintegrated remains of a downed aspen. George wasn't certain, but guessed the man was probably one of the men that had attacked him, and he whispered a prayer that the bastard would just keep on going. He did, cursing the horse loudly as he gunned the ATV and roared away.

Heck trotted back towards him, looking proud of himself. George had to smile at his shenanigans and arrogant attitude. The horse took a long drink of water before raising his head and looking over at George. The idea that he might try riding the spotted devil out of here was probably crazy, but he had to consider it. If the animal threw him again, he would end up in worse shape than before. The horse decided for him, crossing the creek and coming right up to him. His mane was tangled and matted, and he could see a few more cuts and scratches along its shoulders and ribs. George combed his fingers through the horse's forelock as he scratched his jaw. Heck moaned and nuzzled his arm.

"Running away wasn't as much fun as you thought it would be, was it?" He said softly as he rubbed the horse's ears. "I'm gonna try to ride your sorry ass, so go easy on me, okay? You toss me again and neither one of us will get back home."

He took the halter in hand and led the Appy over to a deadfall of aspens. Heck resisted briefly, but George jerked his head down and spent a little time talking softly next into his ear until the horse became calm. When he was somewhat confident the animal wouldn't bolt, he grabbed a fistful of its mane and stepped gingerly up on one of the fallen trees. Remarkably, his bad leg held his weight and he slid onto Heck's back and waited. The animal took a few steps back, then nickered softly as George pulled on his mane to turn him. He wasn't sure which way to go. The guy on the ATV was headed the way he was going initially, so heading that way might be a mistake. He had no idea where the other men had gotten to or if they ever caught up with Honcho. The meadow below was too open. He would be spotted if he tried to cross it. The easiest way home was in the direction the ATV had gone, which would take him past Josie's favorite picnic spot.

"Come on Crazy Horse. Let's take our chances," George said and urged him into a slow walk. "You get me home and all is forgiven."

The horse snorted as George guided him down along the creek.

…

Cecil hated this place. Hated the whole damn state actually. The only good thing about being here was the money. The bad part was, there wasn't a decent place to spend any of it. He slowed the ATV down to a crawl and waved at the security guard as he approached the east gate to Mr. Hyde's new ranch. His wife Laurel loved it because she said the house looked so western, as if she knew shit about the West or Wyoming or decorating for that matter. Mr. Hyde liked the isolation. The huge log house backed up against a grove of aspen at the tail end of a long meadow in the middle of over fifteen hundred acres of hilly land, most of that forested. You couldn't even see the house from the road, and there were plenty of outbuildings to stash whatever Mr. Hyde didn't want anyone to see. There was also a helipad, and Hyde's helicopter was there now, and that meant the boss had called in more men.

He was rattled, and he hated that feeling. Maybe that hippy was a federal agent. If he told Mr. Hyde they'd had a shootout with a Fed, he might just shoot him. A man like him didn't like surprises or screw-ups, and that whole hunting expedition this morning had been one big clusterfuck, thanks to Jessop and Reese. Hyde liked Jessop, and so did Mrs. Hyde, maybe a little too much. Telling him he was dead would not be pleasant. In his opinion, Jessop deserved what he got. Taking a shot at that old cowboy was plain stupid, but the man had always been a hot head. Cecil had bailed his ass out several times, and the boss was going to want to know why he hadn't this time. He planned on blaming that on the hippy Fed and that damn Indian. But even if he did, there would be hell to pay. Hyde didn't like failure, and he didn't like people running around who might be a threat. He'd wanted that old cowboy dead, and he wasn't. The hippy had said they were family. Too bad for them. It wouldn't be the first time Mr. Hyde had destroyed an entire family to protect himself. His own was known for it.

He drove the ATV slowly toward the barn, hoping to have time to catch his breath. He tried to stem that telltale tingle of fear he always had when he brought bad news to the boss. If his right-hand man had flown in on that chopper, then he was going to need more than a breather. He was going to need a shot of whiskey. Maybe two. He parked inside the barn and got out. He examined the bullet holes that pocked the machine, realizing how close he'd come to never seeing the ocean again. He grew up on the coast, and being this far from it made him feel claustrophobic, no matter what the locals said about the big sky. He missed the smell of the sea. He missed shrimp and grits. He missed taking his skiff out on the inland waters and drinking beer in the warm sun. He hated the cold, and he hated this job. His boss too, if he was being honest.

"Where the hell is Jessop?"

Cecil jumped at the chillingly high voice of Kyle Taft, Mr. Hyde's right-hand man.

"Mr. Hyde wants a report. A good one. So, Jessop better have a damn good reason for not being here."

Cecil laughed and turned to face the odd-looking man. "He's got a damn good reason, Taft. The idiot's dead. So is Reese."

The tall man's pale blue eyes went dark, and he finally noticed the bullet holes in the ATV. He walked over and fingered a couple, softly whistling a tuneless song.

"Ambush or fuck up?"

Cecil almost lied, but Taft had the uncanny ability to know a lie when he heard one. He told him about the two men they'd come upon and how the old man Jessop had taken a shot at was family to them. He described the firefight, doing his best to make himself look good. He lied and exaggerated how badly he'd wounded the Indian, but the man didn't react. He hesitated at the end of the story and Taft was quick to pick up on that.

"What are you leaving out, Mr. Suggs?" He asked with a slight intimidating whine.

"The hippy guy claimed to be a Fed," he replied. "Don't think it's true, but that's what he said."

"So, you think he was just trying to scare you?"

"That'd be my guess."

"Now that's an odd, and very specific claim for him to make," he said. "If he was trying to scare you, why not just claim to be local law enforcement?"

The man's tone was distrustful and irritating. He was one scary dude, a member of Mr. Hyde's inner circle and a longtime associate of his family enterprise. The two men had come up together in the organization. Their fathers had been close friends and had taught their sons that loyalty to that organization was the cardinal rule. Breaking your oath was a sin. Screwing up wasn't tolerated and Cecil began to sweat.

"Why are you here, Cecil?" Taft asked. "Why doesn't your story end with that Indian and so-called hippy Fed dead?"

"They took out Reese and Jessop…"

"While you ran," he said the accusation softly and Cecil cringed.

"Come on, Taft…I was fighting for my life…and they were good," Cecil choked out.

"You ran and led them straight back here."

Cecil hadn't even thought of that, and his armpits were suddenly sticky with fear. "I'll fix it, Taft. I will. I promise."

"That is Mr. Taft to you, Cecil."

His last comment was icy, and Cecil backed up toward the ATV where he'd left his Glock.

"Don't go stupid on me now," Taft chided as he pulled his Walther 9mm and aimed it straight at Cecil's face. "Mr. Hyde and I have a few more questions. Shall I call him, or would you rather try for that Glock of yours?"

"Mister Taft my ass" was what he wanted to say but didn't. The asshole had bought that Walther 9mm because James Bond used it. He hated the guy and James Bond. Just because he grew up in one of those fancy houses in Charleston, didn't make him any better than him. They were both killers. It didn't matter where you came from, a killer is a killer. At least that's what his mama always said.

He knew he was in trouble the minute Mr. Hyde walked in, but they still needed him…at least he hoped they did. He was the only one who could identify the hippy and the Indian.

"What the hell happened, Cecil? You were supposed to take care of one old man, and you come back here with your tail between your legs."

The boss was roaring mad, making Cecil babble out as many excuses as he could think of. He answered every question they asked and described the two men with as much detail as he could remember.

"You sure you actually hit that Indian?" Mr. Hyde asked.

"Well, it might have been Reese who shot him," Cecil admitted. "But I was busy with the hippy."

"The one who claimed to be a Fed?"

"Yeah, him."

"Which one of them shot Jessop?"

"The Fed."

"Did they follow you?" Taft asked.

The question flustered him. "I don't…I don't know. That Indian was on the ground when I left, so…"

"Did you get any names?" Taft asked, sounding almost unconcerned as he picked at his fingernails.

"Hell no. They were shooting at me," Cecil practically shouted.

"I don't like incompetence, Cecil, and cowards even less," the boss said. "If they tracked you here, I don't want you anywhere around if they show up. I think it's time for you to go back home for a little while. Think about your mistakes and about your future. Kyle will clean up your mess."

Cecil couldn't believe what he'd just heard. Home? Mama's cooking? Warm weather and warm water? Hell yes.

"Go pack your bags. Russell will fly you into Idaho in the chopper. Our private jet will be waiting to fly you back to South Carolina."

With that the two of them walked out of the barn, leaving him with Russell and two new guys he hadn't met yet. Once he was back home in Port Royal he would just disappear and leave Mr. Hyde and his organization behind. He'd had enough of this shit.

He finally managed to relax when the chopper left the Sierra Madre behind and glided out over the Red Desert. It was an empty, barren landscape, and he'd often thought of going there just to get away from all the assholes that worked for Jefferson Hyde. Russell dipped the nose of the chopper and he giggled when his stomach dropped. He felt a sharp prick in the back of his neck and suddenly felt flush and wobbly. The man across from him slid the side door of the chopper open and the wind tore at his clothes and his sanity. He wanted to reason with them, to tell them he didn't deserve this, but the drugs made it impossible. It didn't matter. They pushed him out and he managed a curse before the red earth rose up to meet him.

…

…