William Krueger - Heaven's keep

“Your husband knew?” Cork said to Adelle.

“The story isn’t over,” the woman said. “Before you judge him, please just listen.”

Cork wanted to grab the kid and shake the story from him, the whole thing, in an instant. Struggling to sound patient, he said, “Go on.”

“My granddad drove his truck. We went back inside the plane. The woman was right there where I left her. She was unconscious. My granddad carried her to the truck and put her inside. He said we couldn’t leave the hole open, so we filled it back in, and spread snow over it real careful so it was hard to tell we’d been there. Then we brought her home.”

Cork could contain himself no longer. He reached out and grasped the kid’s shoulders. “What did you do with her?”

“Let him go,” Adelle said. She pried Cork’s hands from her grandson and gathered Nick under the protection of her arm. “If it weren’t for him, you and your friend would be dead now. He saved you yesterday. In that canyon.”

“You? You fired those shots?”

The boy nodded. “I was at the barn. I heard Lame outside talking on his phone. I heard him say the buried plane would be a good place to get rid of O’Connor. I knew that was you. I told my granddad. He said we should stay out of it, but it didn’t seem right to me. So I rode out. I took my rifle. I don’t know. It seemed like a good thing. I got there and you already had the hole dug. Then the men came out from where they’d been hiding and I knew they were going to kill you. So I tried to shoot them. But I missed. I guess I was kind of scared.”

Cork gathered himself and shoved aside his impatience and his anger. “Thanks,” he said more quietly, then asked, “What about my wife?”

Adelle continued the story. “We hid her and we nursed her. She was hurt bad, but we didn’t know what to do.”

“Why didn’t you take her to a doctor?”

“Because we would have to tell the truth. And they would know what Lame did and they would put him in jail. Lame’s been good to us. We didn’t want trouble. And if Lame was sent away, we didn’t know what would become of us.”

“He didn’t know about her?”

“Not at first. We were…” She looked down. “We were afraid of him. But she just got worse and worse. And finally my husband said we had to tell Lame. Lame had to figure what to do.”

“How did Nightwind take the news?”

“He was mad, like we knew he would be. I thought he was going to hurt Nick.”

“I knew he wouldn’t hurt me,” Nick said.

“We told him the woman needed help,” Adelle went on. “She needed a doctor. He said that if the people who’d shot her knew that we knew, he couldn’t protect us and they’d kill us all.”

“What did he do?”

“He made us leave the ranch for a few days in case those men showed up looking for us. When we came back, she was gone.”

“Did he say what he’d done with her?”

Nick said, “I asked him if he killed her. He said no and I believed him.”

Cork looked at the Arapaho woman. “And you? Did you believe him?”

“I wanted to. But I don’t know. She was gone and I tried to forget. And then you came back looking for her. And we”-she put her arm around her grandson and drew him to her-“we decided that you needed to know the truth, whatever it cost us.”

“Does your husband know you’re here?”

“Yes. He stayed at the ranch. He believed he should let Lame know what we’re doing.”

“Where is Lame?”

“I don’t know. He left last night and still wasn’t back this morning.”

The priest said, “I’m sure that by now he knows about Ellyn Grant, Mr. O’Connor. Word on the reservation travels remarkably fast. And he’s probably aware of what you know and the danger it presents to him. I can’t imagine that he’ll simply wait around to be arrested, though Lame isn’t a man easy to predict.”

“Yesterday we made sure that he couldn’t fly away,” Cork said. “And there aren’t a lot of roads out here and No Voice says his guys are patrolling, so if he tries to drive there’s a good chance he’ll be spotted. But sometimes, Father, a cornered man just hunkers down and waits.”

“And then what?”

“That’s always the question.”

A woman rushed into the mission and stood just inside the door, breathing hard. A ball cap was pulled over her long hair and shaded her eyes. She wore faded jeans and a T-shirt with an image of four Apache warriors holding rifles. The caption for the image read

HOMELAND SECURITY. FIGHTING TERRORISM SINCE 1492.

Cork recognized her, though he couldn’t remember her name. He’d seen her the night before at the office of the tribal police. She was a dispatcher.

“What is it, Lee?”

“I just spoke with Chief No Voice on the radio. He’s on his way back, but he said I should come over and tell this to Mr. O’Connor.” She looked at the woman and the kid. “I suppose it’s good you’re here, too, Adelle. It’s about Ben.”

“What about him?” Adelle asked.

“We just got a 911 call from Lame Nightwind’s ranch. Your husband’s been shot, Adelle. It doesn’t sound good, but it’s not fatal.”

“Who shot him?” Cork asked.

“I don’t know.”

Cork spoke again. “Who made the call?”

“Lame Nightwind,” the dispatcher said.

It was thirty miles to Nightwind’s ranch. Cork drove like a madman. In the dust raised behind him, Father Frank and the Arapaho followed in the truck they’d driven to Red Hawk. Ten minutes after they left town, Cork’s cell phone rang, and he handed it to Parmer.

Parmer answered, listened, then turned to Cork. “It’s Sheriff Kosmo. He’d like you to stop immediately and wait. He’ll have men out here as soon as he can and an ambulance.”

“Tell him to go to hell.”

Into the phone, Parmer said, “Sheriff, I’d have better luck trying to stop a bulldozer with a feather duster.” He listened again, then held out the cell phone to Cork. “He wants to talk to you.”

Cork took the phone, snapped it shut, and handed it back to Parmer. Then he bore down even harder on the accelerator.

Half a mile from Lame Nightwind’s ranch compound, Cork stopped. “Check your Ruger.”

Parmer opened the glove box where he’d placed the weapon. He pulled the firearm out, ejected and checked the magazine, then slapped it back into place. Cork swung himself out of the Jeep and opened the back door just as the Arapahos’ truck drew up behind him. He lifted out Quinn’s Winchester, which he’d kept.

Adelle, Nick, and Father Frank got out of the pickup and hurried to the Jeep.

The priest frowned at the rifle in Cork’s hands. “Is this necessary, Mr. O’Connor?”

Cork checked the magazine to be sure it carried a full load of rounds.

“I’ve got no idea what we might be walking into, Father. It could be Lame Nightwind or it could be a couple of professional killers. I just want to be prepared.”

“Mr. O’Connor, I understand your eagerness-” the priest began.

“Father, what you understand or don’t isn’t important to me. Nightwind may be the only man alive who knows where my wife is. I intend to get some answers from him.”

“What if you kill him first?” the priest said.

“I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Cork pushed the priest aside, got into the Jeep, and handed Parmer the rifle. Adelle Iron rushed to his door and stood looking at him very afraid.

“What about my husband?”

“I’ll do what I can,” Cork said. “But until we know the situation, you and Nick and the father stay back. Do you understand?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer. He kicked the engine over, and as soon as she stepped away, he sped off.