Chapter 34

Best Laid Plans

Tim raced down the road with his rifle and bag in tow, just as he'd been trained in the military, to run a fast 6-and-a-half minute mile with pack. Adrenaline pumping, he sprinted the last 100 feet and when he reached the van, he began to pound on the passenger side with his fist. Weston immediately clicked the locks, and Tim opened the door.

"You got a rope? It didn't go as planned," Tim panted, sticking his head inside. Not waiting for an answer, he opened the door climbed into the back of the van.

"It's over there," Weston pointed back to the left. "What happened? I heard the shots!"

Rummaging through the neatly-organized supplies, he answered. "We got Anna. She's handcuffed. Bruised and scuffled as far as I could see in the dark. Then, there's Raylan whose leg tangled with a pit bull's jaws. He can't walk. He can't get over the fence."

"Alright," Weston nodded. "Sounds like a scoop and run."

"Yes!" Tim exclaimed a few seconds later upon finding the rope. "What say I scoop them up over on this side of the fence, so you can run."

With that, he took off, racing back towards the fence where he left Raylan and Anna. He pumped his legs as fast as he could, until he reached the fence line. With the rope, the rifle, and his bag over his shoulder, he took a flying leap at the metal fence and was half way up in one jump. "Raylan," he called out in a low voice.

Tim was answered with the whir of a bullet flying past his ear. He saw the shadow of a man through the foliage on the other side of the fence, much bigger and taller than Raylan. Tim was a potential walking bomb with all the ammo in his pack, so he backed off the fence, dropping five-and-a-half feet back to the ground and ran away from another whir that came in his direction.

The van was pulling up slowly with its lights off, and he ran toward it with everything he had. Weston reacted quickly, unlocked the doors, and lowered down the passenger window. Throwing his pack into the cab first, Tim dove into the van through the open window and collided into the shoulder of the Homeland Security Officer.

"Floor it!" Tim yelled.

Another wave of bullets flew toward them as Weston whipped a U-turn, burning rubber, with Tim's legs still out the window, and headed up the road at a speed above 60 miles an hour. Once they were clear of gunfire, Weston slowed the van, pulled off the road, and turned to the sniper. "What happened?"

Tim turned his contorted body and pulled his legs inside the van, into the passenger seat. Out of breath, he panted, "I don't know. I couldn't get in. And I couldn't wait around to find out why."

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

"Get movin'!" the burlier of the two men yelled at Raylan.

"He can't walk," Anna huffed under her breath.

"Shut up, you black bitch," the other man shoved her forward, almost causing to her fall to the ground.

The burly man picked Raylan up by his belt and found his holstered service weapon. "Well, well. Look what we have here. I'll take that." He grabbed the marshal's gun and holster. "You know, you're dead meat for shootin' at the dogs."

"Wasn't me," Raylan lied. "It was the one you chased off, on the other side of the fence. And I think you should know . . . He's got friends."

The burly man answered him with, "So? We got friends, too. Now, move it!"

Raylan took one step forward on his bad leg and collapsed to the ground. He grabbed the leg and groaned in pain.

"You know what we do around here with a lame animal?" The burly man proceeded to answer his own question. "We shoot 'em. Put 'em outta their misery." And he took Raylan's gun out of the holster and pointed the muzzle to the side of Raylan's head.

"Wait!" Anna pleaded. "You'd better let Mr. Arndt know that you have US Marshal Raylan Givens here. Alive."

The burly man crouched down to Raylan's level. "Are you Marshal Givens?"

Raylan wouldn't answer his captors.

The burly man chuckled. "The nigger gal is right. Mr. Arndt would love to have a few words with you." He put the gun back in its holster and then, turned to his accomplice. "Jase. There's a tarp in the shed. Go get it, and we'll drag the marshal's ass back to the compound." He then reached over and grabbed Anna by her handcuffs and forced her to sit down on the ground next to Raylan. "You stay right there, and don't give me a ration of shit."

Raylan leaned over, closer towards Anna. "You coulda got away." He was clearly pissed.

"I know," she softly answered him. She understood what it felt like to fail a mission.

"Shut the fuck up!" the burly man yelled at the two. "I don't want to hear another word outta either one of you."

All the LEO brother and sister could do was to look at one another and tell the other, with their eyes alone, to be strong.

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

A.D. Karen Goodall railed on the other end of the line. "They've got Deputy Marshal Givens, too?! What the hell, Todd!" Task Force be damned. Karen didn't care if her Homeland Security counterpart liked her tone or not. This was Raylan they were talking about.

"Deputy Marshal Givens was injured during the operation and couldn't hoist himself over the 15 foot high fence on the return," Weston tried to explain.

"How bad?" she asked. No matter she how she tried not to, she still cared about Raylan, more than she should.

"A guard dog had him by the leg," Weston reported. "From what Deputy Marshal Gutterson tells me, Agent Rulé had an opportunity to get over the fence to freedom . . . but she declined to do so. She opted to remain there at the compound . . . with her wounded brother."

"You know?" Goodall grimaced. Relatives working together on an inter-agency task force was strictly forbidden.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "But I know you didn't know. No one knew. Not even them. I won't put it in my report."

"Thank you." Then, Goodall changed the subject, sounding a little more collected. "From what you told me earlier, Agent Rulé isn't in such great shape herself."

"No," he confirmed. "Apparently, she's been roughed up quite a bit. But she conscious, mobile. She also in handcuffs. There's no way this is good."

"We could storm the compound," Goodall suggested. "Just give me time to get some reinforcements in place."

Weston offered her confirmation. "That would be my next move."

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

"Get these two some water and some of that slop you call food." A slight, muscular man with close-cropped graying hair who Anna recognized from photographs as Leon Arndt barked at the two goons who'd dragged them in moments before. When the burlier one gaped at him, open-mouthed. Arndt ordered. "Now!"

Leaving Raylan on the floor they hurried out of the room. Arndt strolled over, ignoring Anna for the time being, and focused his attention on the injured marshal. "I called a friend of mine, a doc here in town shares our world view," he chuckled. "Privately, of course. He's on his way to have a look at that leg of yours." He squatted. "Mind you, I'm not happy about my dogs. I got two injured and one dead 'cause of you." He smirked. "The doc's a vet, by the way, but he's seen his share of human patients workin' for me."

"You've kidnapped two federal law enforcement officers, Arndt," Raylan managed. If he kept his leg still, the pain was manageable. "Let me make a call and we can end this without more killin'."

The thin man pushed to his feet, chuckling. "From what I've heard of you, you ain't opposed to killin'. Why the sudden change of heart? Becomin' a daddy to that sweet baby girl made you soft?"

Raylan's head snapped up at the mention of Willa.

"I got eyes and ears in places you can't even imagine," Arndt said. "Just you remember that."

Raylan's heart pounded at the thought that once again, Winona and Willa could be in danger and not even realize it. And he had no way to contact them. How in the hell were he and Anna going to get out of this mess?

Arndt turned his attention to Anna. "You've turned out to be more trouble than you're worth. Although," he scratched his head and stooped again, leaning in towards her. His breath smelled of cinnamon, and he cracked his gum while he stared at her. "Why don't we see how much your brother here cares about you?"

Frank returned at that moment with two bottles of water and two plates filled with some kind of meat drowning in a brownish sauce. "He ain't her brother. Least that's what that DNA report thing said." He dropped a water bottle beside Raylan and set the plate down. Pulling a plastic fork from his pocket, he threw it on top.

"You let her read it to you, didn't you?" Arndt snapped. "You're an idiot. I read it and there's absolutely no doubt that the Marshal here's mother was a race defiler."

"You want me to feed the nigger, too?" Frank asked, sneering at Anna.

"Can't let her starve," Arndt said. "But she don't need a fork. She's hungry enough, she'll eat."

Raylan picked up his own fork and tossed it to Anna. "I'm not hungry," he said. He twisted off the cap of the water and took a long swig.

"Have it your way, nigger-lover," Frank said. He stooped to pick up the plate of food and disappeared back the way he came.

There was a sharp rap at the door, and Arndt walked over. He looked through a one-way peephole. Satisfied, he opened the door. The veterinarian was about the same height as Arndt, but chubby, with a head of blonde, curly hair and a baby face. He couldn't have been more than thirty-five, by Raylan's guess.

"This'n here has a dog bite and maybe a broke ankle. The nigger has some cuts and bruises, but she'll live."

Without a word, the vet knelt and took a close look at Raylan's leg. "I don't think he needs stitches. When was your last tetanus shot?"

"Last year," Raylan said.

"You're good." Pulling some scissors from his bag, he cut away the already torn bottom of the jean leg and tugged at Raylan's boot.

"Ow!" Raylan yelped.

"This has to come off," the vet tugged again, and Raylan clenched his teeth against the pain. The boot came off with a sucking sound revealing his swollen ankle.

He dealt with the dog bite first, pouring what looked like an entire bottle of hydrogen peroxide over the meaty part of Raylan's calf and then, slathering on antibiotic ointment. Anna's stomach churned in distress as she watched Raylan stoically suck up the pain. He took another tube of ointment and several bandages out of his bag. "This dressing'll need to be changed daily. Use more hydrogen peroxide and, if it itches or gets red, call me."

That finished, he examined the swollen ankle. Raylan winced as he poked and moved the joint up and down.

"I don't think it's broken, but it's a bad sprain. Mighta torn some ligaments in there. No way to know without an MRI. I'll wrap it, but you need to see a doctor when you get outta here."

The man wrapped Raylan's ankle and treated the worst of Anna's cuts with more of the antibiotic salve. "Be right back," he said. They heard a car door slam, and the vet returned with a battered pair of crutches. "Keep weight off that ankle," he said, setting them down near Raylan.

That's not gonna be a problem, Raylan thought to himself. After the examination, the leg and the foot were throbbing worse than ever.

The vet held out his hand to Arndt, who snorted and then, reached in his pocket, pulling out a wallet and peeling off several bills.

"And the dogs?"

"Jesus," Arndt fumed, adding several more bills to the pile in the young man's hand.

"I appreciate it." He slipped the money into his pocket, flashed a grin and left.

"Now," Arndt said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Like I said, let's see how much your new-found sister means to you, Marshal."

Raylan waited.

"I want Ellstin Limehouse to pay for what his family did to mine," Arndt said. "That self-righteous nigger bastard never did know his place." He paced a line between Raylan and Anna, hands gesturing. "I'll make a trade." He pointed a long finger at Anna. "Get me Limehouse and your sister the FBI agent goes free. Considerin' you're injured, I'll give you twenty-four hours to bring him to me. Alive."

He put two fingers to his lips and whistled. Almost immediately, Frank and Jase appeared. "Take Marshal Givens to the front gate and let him go."

"But . . ." Frank began. Arndt leveled a stare at him, and the man's mouth slammed shut.

"Come on," Jase said, pulling Raylan roughly to his feet.

Arndt picked up the crutches and handed them to Raylan. "You can return these when you come back with my delivery."

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

"Wait, over there." Karen tugged the binoculars out of Tim's hand and focused them in on the gate to Arndt's compound. "It's Raylan."

Tim grabbed them back. "He's on crutches," he said. "And he's alone."

"Where's Agent Rulé?" Todd Weston held his hand out for the binoculars to take a look for himself.

"No idea," Tim said. "But I'm gonna go and get him."

"Marshal Gutterson," Karen said. "I think we should . . ."

But Tim opened the door and was gone. He ran to Raylan, covered by Goodall and Weston from behind the van, and Art and Rachel from behind Art's SUV. The two marshals slowly made their way from the entrance to the road, to safety.

"Let's put him in the back seat, here," Art ordered as the two approached closer. It was obvious Raylan was in a lot of pain.

Art and Rachel opened both doors to the backseat and helped Raylan slide all the way back in one motion, so that the injured leg was supported by the length of the seat.

"Follow us to Hardin Memorial in Elizabethtown," Art instructed Tim once Raylan was secured, reading from his smart phone. There was no room for Tim in his rig.

"No," Raylan spoke. "If I have to go to a hospital, take me to University Hospital in Louisville."

Art and Tim locked eyes. They instantly knew he wanted to go there because Winona was in Louisville.

"Well," Art said. "You heard the man."

"Raylan," Tim interrupted. "Where's Anna?"

Raylan shook his head in disbelief and frustration. "I got twenty-four hours to deliver Ellstin Limehouse to Arndt in exchange for Anna. Arndt's not playin' around."

Stunned by Arndt's demand, Art finally said, "Tim, would you fill Karen in?"

"Sure thing, Boss," Tim nodded. Then, he reached over and patted Raylan on his good leg and said, "Glad to see you out of there."

Raylan nodded and swallowed the dry lump in his throat. How in the hell were they going to be able to deliver Limehouse to Arndt and his most certain death? The marshal's gaze shifted to the back of the vehicle, stinging at the thought of losing the sister he just found.

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

"Oh, Raylan," Winona murmured when her eyes met his. Her eyes glistened, but she managed to hold back the tears.

Raylan was sitting up on a gurney in the triage area of the ER. It was now after 8:00 a.m. He'd been there for several hours, waiting. It had been a busy night at the ER, plus there was a shift change at 6:00 a.m. He had an IV in his arm and was waiting to be taken for an MRI.

"I'm fine," he said before she could utter another word. When he saw her, all he could think about was how upset she looked, in her condition. "I tangled with a guard dog. They're givin' me antibiotics in the IV to ward off infection." He pointed to the IV pole to prove his point. "And the doctor thinks the ankle is just twisted, not broken, but they want to make sure. See? I can even wiggle my toes." He grimaced as she looked down to see him move his toes, a little.

By now, she was standing beside him, and she leaned down to kiss him.

When their lips parted, she asked, "Raylan, how's Anna? Rachel told us you've seen her." She was asking both for herself and for Adam.

"She's alive," he said, thinking she was okay for at least the next 21 hours. "She's one tough agent."

"Thank God," Winona looked and sounded relieved. "Can I tell Adam?"

"Sure," he said.

"Here," she said, pulling her phone out of her purse, "I'll text him."

"You'll have to go outside the ER to use your phone, M'am," the nurse reprimanded. "No cell phone usage allowed in this department."

"Okay." Thinking out loud, she said, "I'll go out to the lobby and tell him in person in a minute." She looked down, into Raylan's eyes. "I'm so glad you're here. Daddy's here, too. Having more tests run. After they release you, Adam said we can take his hotel room so you can have some privacy, get some rest. He'll stay in our room at Gayle's."

"Winona," he stopped her. "As soon as I'm released, I'm back on duty."

She looked perplexed. "What do you mean you're back on duty? You in no shape to go anywhere." She looked him up and down. In the hospital gown, she could see the scrapes and bruises on both his legs from being drug on the ground on through the brush on a tarp, not to mention the blood tinged bandage around leg. His entire foot and ankle were swollen and discolored.

He shook his head in frustration. "You know I can't talk about this case. Not even with you."

"Well, I don't understand why you can't come home with me," she said, visibly upset, disappointed, and feeling let down. She thought he would be released and have some time with her and Willa. She thought she'd have some time to tell him they weren't going to have another baby, after all. She didn't want to tell him here. She thought. She thought wrong.

"Winona." He reached out for her hand.

She pulled her hand away, protectively tucking her arms around herself.

"If I could tell you everything, don't ya' know I would? And if I could go home with ya' right now, I would do that, too. There's no place I'd rather be."

She looked down and fought the all-too-familiar feeling of wanting to run as far as she could away from the man on the gurney and never look back. Raylan sensed the conflict going on inside her. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand back into his, tugging her closer. "Look at me," he insisted. His face was intense. "I have to go. There's no other way."

"Who's making you go?" Her face was alarmed, tense. "Is it Art? I'll go talk to Art. Is it that Karen Goodall? Is she threatening your job?"

Raylan squeezed her hands in his. "No." He locked eyes with hers and shook his head.

"Is it you?" She looked at him in utter disbelief.

"No."

"Are you telling me the truth, Raylan?" She let go of his hands.

"I swear," he said. "I'm tellin' you more than I should." He swallowed hard. "I don't want to go. I have to go."

It suddenly dawned on her. She threw up her hands in frustration. There was only one reason why he was the only one, out of all those LEO's, who could do whatever it was he had to do. She shot him a look of steely daggers. "You're going to Harlan, aren't you?"

He just looked at her, tight lipped, his eyes pleading, Trust me.

"Mr. Givens?" an orderly interrupted them, abruptly yanking back the curtain. "I'm here to take you down to Imaging."

Winona crossed her arms, stood there, and said nothing as the orderly wheeled Raylan away.

(To be continued . . . )