Chapter 23

Searching

Raylan could hear the crinkling of paper through the radio, then a car door slammed.

"Goddamnit," Art muttered. "I hate maps. GPS is the greatest invention of mankind. Just a minute." There was more crinkling and a few more choice words. "Looks like there's an old mine shaft about a half mile up the hillside behind where the smokehouse sits."

"You mean where it used to sit," Tim observed.

"Whatever," Art said. "It's there."

"Red or blue?" Raylan asked.

"Red. What damn difference does it make?"

"Supposedly the ones that were unstable were identified in red. But . . ."

"If Ellstin didn't want anyone snooping around he might have had it labeled that way?" Anna guessed.

"That's what I'm thinkin'," Raylan said. He slid the hat on and adjusted it with a grin. "Who's ready for a little hike?"

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

When they arrived at Gayle's, there was a Louisville Police cruiser in the driveway.

"Gayle's neighbors are going to wonder what the hell is going on." Winona sighed. "Between what happened last fall, the fire and now, this."

Adam slowed, pulling up in front of the house and turning off the ignition. He handed Winona the keys.

"Thanks for driving," she said, already half out of the car.

"You're welcome. Go on in, I'll get Willa."

Winona shot him a quick smile. "I'm so glad you're here," she said. "I don't know what we'd do without you."

"Here's my sister," Gayle said from the couch when Winona came in. A Louisville policewoman, her auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail, rose from beside Gayle.

"Officer Martindale," she stated. "Tina Martindale. Your sister tells me that your father has dementia? And you think he may have taken the boy fishing?"

"Yes," Winona confirmed. "He loves to fish with Davis, and yes, he has dementia and a heart condition. His confusion has been better lately. It comes and goes." She looked at Gayle. "Did he take his medicine this morning?"

Gayle's brow wrinkled. "Yes," she nodded. "I gave him the pills myself and watched him take them. In fact, he didn't give me any trouble, and he usually complains. He got dressed without a fuss, too."

"He planned this," Winona said. "He knew he was going to leave. He could've been planning this since the other night, when he was talking to Raylan."

"Ohmygosh, you're right!"

The officer listened to the exchange, then broke in. "Where would he go? If he did plan this? Is there somewhere he would want to take your boy?"

"The lake," Gayle whispered. She put a hand to her mouth. "Why didn't I think of Dad taking him fishing. It's all he's talked about." She chided herself again. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"What lake Ma'am?"

The door opened and Adam came in with Willa, followed by Wade.

"Did you find them?" Gayle cried when her husband walked through the door. Her eyes sought his, hopefully.

Wade rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, not looking at his wife. "No luck."

Winona turned to the officer. "Marrowbone Lake. It's in Tennessee, just this side of Nashville. We used to go there all the time when we were kids. Daddy's been talking about it all week. Sometimes the past is more real to him than the present."

"Marrowbone Lake?" Wade paced the living room. "Do you really think he'd try to drive that far?"

"There are some places he likes to go around here," Winona said. She handed the officer the list she'd scrawled on the back of a receipt as Adam drove. "But Raylan said Daddy was going on and on about Marrowbone Lake and all his buddies in Nashville."

"These friends," Officer Martindale said. "Do you know any of their names?"

"Bud Winters called Daddy the other day," Gayle said. "They talked for almost an hour."

"Bud was a mechanic at the dealership Daddy worked at," Winona told Adam.

"Bud is his first name?" Officer Martindale asked.

Gayle shrugged. "I guess. It's the only thing Dad ever called him."

The officer wrote down the name. "Anyone else?"

"Ma-ma-ma-ma," Willa pouted and Adam handed her over. The baby burrowed her face into her mama's cleavage, rooting. Winona flushed.

"She's hungry." She caught Gayle's eye. "I'm going to slip into the kitchen and feed her." She rose, Willa's little mouth puckering, ready to burst into full-fledged crying. "The only other friend I can think of is Pete, but I don't remember his last name."

"It's Hildreth," Margery said, emerging from the kitchen with Kyle in tow, in order to give Winona some privacy. "You remember. He's the man who beat Davis out of 'Dealership of the Year' for two years running."

"That's it, Mom! Hildreth. Just a minute," Gayle said, rushing into the dining room. They heard doors opening and shutting and moments later she emerged with a handful of envelopes. "We got a Christmas card from Pete and his wife last year. I stuck all the envelopes in here so I'd have the addresses." She flipped through the stack. "Here it is!" She held up a red envelope. "Peter Hildreth, 883 Wilshire Place in Nashville."

"Alright," Officer Martindale said with a level of satisfaction at the number of leads collected in such a short time. "I'll get on these two names and have the local fishing spots checked out, too. We have a BOLO out on your father and the van. I'm sure we'll have them both back safe and sound soon.

-o-o-o-O-o-o-o-

"Are we there yet?" Tim called out in a childish whine, bringing up the rear on the hike up the mountain.

"Don't make me come back there," Raylan countered.

Anna, sandwiched between the two, laughed at their easy camaraderie. It was clear to her that the two men held each other in respect and, though they probably wouldn't admit it, affection.

They moved through the brush and scrub trees of the hillside above Noble's Holler. The way was full of roots, pine needles, and rocks. The three walked carefully, eyes cast down. It would be easy to twist an ankle.

"Look at the way this brush is trambled down," Raylan said. "Looks like a path."

"A recent one, too," Anna added. She picked up a broken stick. "This hasn't had time to dry out yet."

"Watch what you pick up," Tim advised. "Snakes." He chuckled when Anna gave a panicked glance over her shoulder and very gingerly took her next few steps. He filed the information that the lovely FBI agent was afraid of snakes away for another oportune moment.

Raylan continued to lead the way, deeper into the holler, checking in with Art a few times along the way. The deeper they went, the weaker the radio signal became. They continued to follow the freshly trambled path for another ten to twelve minutes until the aged and wooden face of an abandoned coal mine came into view.

"Ellstin!" Raylan tried shouting once more, he voice echoing as it bounced around their narrowing path.

"Psssst."

The human sound was coming from entrance to the mine.

Raylan looked ahead, into the dark entrance, where he saw the face of a younger, African-American male he'd seen around Ellstin before. The man waved Raylan over.

Tim pulled his scoped Police Precision Rifle to his shoulder, at the ready, and covered Raylan at a 100 degree angle from behind. He silently signaled to Anna to do the same. It was a tactical maneuver he learned in Afghanistan that she was unfamiliar with, but she quickly fell into position.

"Marshal," the man whispered as Raylan came a little closer.

"What's your name, son," Raylan asked. "I'm Raylan Givens."

"I knows," the man said. "I's Aksel."

"Aksel, where is everyone?" Raylan asked. "In there? With you?"

"They is still out dere, Marshal." The man was excitable.

"Out here?" Raylan didn't understand.

"No. Da' men. Who come to do us harm."

Raylan tried again. "Well . . . where is Ellstin Limehouse? Is he alive?"

The young man finally answered. "He in here. He got shot."

Raylan turned to the other two. "I'm the obvious one to go in, Ellstin knows me."

"You've got three minutes, Raylan, to go in and come back out and show me your smiling face," Tim cooly agreed with Raylan's decision to check out the situation. "Or I'm coming in, blazing."

"You heard the man," Raylan tipped his Stetson to Aksel. He turned to Anna, and said, "Here. Catch." Gently, he tossed her the radio and then, followed Aksel into the darkened entrance.

It was pitch black inside, and it took a minute for Raylan's eyes to adjust. The mine smelled dank and musty, like wet, rotting wood. It was cool inside, despite the rising outside temperatures of the late Spring. His heart pounded and his blood pressure went up. He hated mines. Mines were to Raylan as Afghanistan was to Tim. Raylan could feel the sweat collecting at the base of his neck and wiped at it with his hand.

Aksel led Raylan in about 20 feet, when he saw Ellstin seated on the ground. His arm was in a sling made of what looked to be a torn t-shirt. He had indeed been shot.

"It's 'bout time ya' showed up," Ellstin flashed him a toothy grin.

"Ya' didn't make it easy for me to find ya," Raylan defended himself.

"Good. 'dat was the idea."

"Are you the only one hurt?" Raylan asked, crowching down to the injured man's level.

"We gots three dead," Ellstin hung his head. "We hid the bodies so we can go back and give 'em a proper Christian burial when these sons-a-bitches is caught. And I woulda been the fourth if those mens had their way."

"Was it Arndt?" Raylan asked, hoping that now, Ellstin would come clean.

"I s'spect so."

"And how many are there?" Raylan asked.

"I counted three . . . still alive," Askel said, "All ya'll crackers look da' same to me."

"Is anybody else hurt or injured?" Raylan rattled off his questions, very aware of the time he had left.

"Naw. Just me."

"And can ya' walk?" Raylan asked. "Looks like ya' lost quite a bit of blood there."

"I don't know," the leader of the holler answered. "I could try."

"We got a chopper that's about a 20 minute walk from here."

"I ain't leavin' to go to no hospital," Ellstin insisted.

"Well, then maybe we can chopper in a medic to help ya' out." Raylan interrutped himself by holding up a finger. "Hold on a mintute. I need to go and satisfy my sniper buddy's itchy trigger finger that I'm okay. Know what I mean?"

"By all means . . . You do 'dat," Ellstin chuckled but was stopped by a jolt of searing pain.

Raylan gave the man a firm, reassuring pat on his good shoulder, stood up, and walked out of the mine the same way he came in. "We got three civilians dead, one injured in here," Raylan announced to his team. "Looks like a GSW to the shoulder. We're gonna need a medic. With some antibiotics. Ellstin says he's not leavin' his people."

Anna immediately relayed that information on the radio, her voice crackling on the other end.

"I'm goin' back in," Raylan announced.

When he got back to Ellstin, an older woman he'd never seen before was kneeling in front of him. The bandage was off, and Ellstin was leaning forward, a pained look on his face.

"I called for a medic," Raylan said. "You're gonna need antibiotics.

The woman glanced up at Raylan, made a disgusted sound and spit on the ground, narrowly missing his boot.

She returned her attention to Limehouse.

"You's a lucky bastard, Ellstin. That there bullet went right through ya'. Now, this is gonna sting like the dickens but it gotta be done." The woman took a dark brown bottle from a flour sack bag and looked up at Aksel who was still hovering close to the older man. "Hold him down, ya' hear?"

"Yessm," Aksel said, laying one hand on Limehouse's leg and the other on his good shoulder.

The woman tipped the bottle and a yellowish liquid flowed out and into the bullet wound. Ellstin let out an animal groan and strained against Aksel's grip.

Raylan tried not to visibly cringe at the sight, the smell, the sound.

She paused. "Holdjer breath," she suggested. More of the smelly medicine splashed out onto the exit wound. She pulled a wad of clean bandages out of the bag and bound the shoulder again. Then, reaching back in, she came out with several leaves which she crushed in her hand and offered to the man. "Chew this for 'da pain," she said.

Limehouse shook his head. "I wanna be clear-headed."

"Suit ya'self."

Raylan walked back outside. "He's refusin' medical help. "At least our kinda help," he thought to himself. "So, scratch that medic," he said to Anna to relay to Art.

The people of Noble's Holler had been totally self-sufficient ever since it was settled by emancipated slaves right after the Civil War. Of course they would do their own doctoring. Walking back in, Raylan thought to himself, "Ellstin will probably be just fine."

Ellstin was sitting up a little taller when he returned. "Aksel here tells me ya'll gots yo'self a new colored gal wit' ya' . . . as part o' yo' law brigade." Looking Raylan in the eye, he asked, "Is d'ere somethin' ya' want ta' tell me? Somethin' havin' ta' do wit' New Orleans?"

"How does he do this?" Raylan thought to himself. "Know things he can't possibly know." Clearing his throat, he carefully answered with, "No. Not at this time." Shifting his weight, Raylan uttered, "I do have another question for ya', though. These three men who came here to cause ya' harm . . . when's the last time ya' saw 'em? Was it before or after the explosion that took out the bridge?"

Ellstin looked confused which was understandable after what he'd just been through.

"It was b'fore," Aksel answerd for him. "Those two that was shot was when they was runnin' away back over 'da bridge. The other three, they gots away."

"Did ya' see how they got away? Were they drivin' a particular kinda vehicle?"

"It was dark. Hard ta' see," Aksel went over it in his head. "Looked like t'was one of 'em big SUV's. Wit' the windows all dark."

Raylan nodded. Looking back down at Ellstin, he asked, "And you're sure everyone here is fine? Women, children? Don't need any help with rebuildin' or nothin'?"

Ellstin cocked his head. "Marshal. Ya' know we don't take kindly to nothin' from nobody. Too many strings that we don't want or need."

"Yeah," he shook his head. "I do know that. And I respect it, too. And I'll do my best to make sure my superiors understand."

"I'm countin' on you," Ellstin gave him a stern eyeful.

"How are ya' ever gonna cross that river?" Raylan tried one last time.

"Everythin' we needs is right here," Ellstin said with conviction and pride. "That bridge will happen again, when it's 'sposed ta' happen." Unbeknownst to Raylan, the people of Noble's Holler had other access to crossing the river, ways that would always be kept secret.

"Alright," Raylan said, out of verbal ammunition and adjusting the hat on his head. "Ya' know how to get hold of me if ya' need anything."

"We won't," Ellstin assured him.

As Raylan left the mine to join Tim and Anna, he knew the man was right. Despite the hat, he squinted as the sun shone on his face, and he took in a deep breath of fresh, fresh air into his lungs.

"We can head on back to the copter," he announced.

"What about the others?" Tim asked, still posed in a defensive stance.

"There aren't any others to look for. At least not now. Not here," he explained. "From what the witnesses said, there were five men. Two were shot, the ones Art and Rachel found. And three more took off. In a dark SUV with darkned windows. It was dark. Not a very helpful description, I know."

"Do you believe the witnesses?" Anna asked. "I mean, if the men escaped, why have they all been holed up in here all this time?"

"Maybe they weren't sure the men were gone until we came in," he gave his best guess. "I know these folks are all waitin' until we leave before they all will come out."

"How do you know that?" she asked.

"Because I know Ellstin Limehouse," he said. "Trust me. We can go on back now."

"Do you think Arndt was involved?" Tim asked a question of his own.

After leaving the coolness in the mine, standing in the sun suddenly made Raylan quite warm. He removed his hat and wiped the sweat off his forehead. "Arndt was behind it, but he wasn't here. He sent his lessers to do his dirty work."

"That sounds about right," Tim finally lowered his rifle, his arms and shoulders sore and tired form maintaining his defensive posture for such a long time.

The three headed back for the twenty minute hike toward the clearing to board the chopper for the short ride across the river.

Right before they boarded, Tim yelled out, "Snake!" Anna leapt into the copter in two seconds flat with Tim howling with laughter behind her.

"You shoulda seen how fast you high tailed it into this chopper," he snorted, trying to catch his breath, far too amused with himself.

Raylan, the third to seat himself in the floor of the bird before takeoff, leaned over and said to Anna in a deadpan tone, loud enough for Tim to hear him, "Just think of how much fun you're gonna have, thinkin' of a way to get back at ol' Tim, here."

"Oh, I won't sleep a wink tonight worrying about you plotting your revenge," Tim mocked her.

"Be afraid. Be very afraid," she promised, as Tim continued laughing.

Raylan bumped arms with Anna to get her attention. "I think this is Tim's way of blowin' of some steam after bein' in a tense situation."

"Speak for yourself, Raylan," Tim chided. "I was as cool as a cucumber."

"Maybe," Raylan gave him a raised eye brow. "On the outside."

Up high in the air, they watched as the Coroner's wagon drove away from the scene, presumably after picking up the bodies of Arndt's two men.

"Looks like we'll be headin' back to the office, soon," Raylan again guessed. To Anna, he suggested, "How about you and me go through the 'known associates' files and take 'em to Leslie's? We could run through the files with Art, and then we can head back to Louisville with Adam, Winona, and the baby.

"That sounds like a plan," Anna agreed.

She glanced at her watch and saw it was already after 5:00 p.m. With that flick of her wrist, her new ring, which felt foreign on her finger, caught a glint of a sunbeam and sparkled like a prism, all the colors of the rainbow.

"Adam did good selectin' that ring," Raylan said, watching her notice it for the first time all day.

She looked up at Raylan and smiled. "He sure did, didn't he?"

(To be continued . . .)