Judy Christenberry - Randall Renegade

Jim had torn out of the saloon and found a pay phone. He called Patience. Her voice was cool when she’d told him that yes, she was raising a baby.

“Who’s the real mother and father?” he’d demanded.

“None of your business,” she’d said.

“Fine!” and he’d hung up the phone.

He hadn’t seen or heard from her since. It had been three years, but she still owned his heart whether she knew it or not.

And now she had called him. She’d cried on the phone, asked him to call back. What was going on?

He started his truck and drove fast to Rawhide. He went to the same pay phone he’d used to call her before. He didn’t need to look at the paper. He still knew her number by heart. Not that he’d ever tell her that.

“Hello?” a wavery voice answered.

“Patience?” he asked. After all, Red had said she was crying.

“No, I’ll get her.”

He grew even more tense as he waited.

“Jim?”

“Yeah.”

He didn’t intend to make this call easy for her. He’d suffered a lot because she’d wanted nothing to do with him unless they were engaged.

“I need help. I didn’t know anyone else to call.”

“What kind of help?”

“My little boy has been kidnapped.”

“And you haven’t called the law?”

“I called them.”

“Then why are you asking me for help?”

“They won’t do anything.”

Jim was momentarily speechless. “Why not?” he finally asked.

“Because the man who kidnapped him is his father!” The tears were there in her voice.

“Sounds like you’d better listen to the law, Patience.”

“You don’t understand! He’s crazy!”

“No, I don’t understand. And I don’t know why you’re coming to me for help. You threw me out of your life years ago!”

“I threw you out of my life?” she screamed back at him.

“That’s right. Find someone else to fight your battles.”

He hung up the phone.

After an hour of sitting at a back table in the saloon having a beer with his friends, he asked, “What do you hear about Patience now?”

“Nothin’,” his friend Roy said. Roy worked at the feed store and knew almost all the gossip around.

“Nothing? Does she still have that kid?”

“Last I saw her she did.”

“Who’s she seeing now?”

Roy shrugged. “Maybe someone from Buffalo.”

“I see. Well, good. Glad she’s happy.”

Another half an hour and he made an excuse and headed for his truck. Of course Patience was seeing someone. She was a beautiful woman. So let her ask her new boyfriend for help.

AFTER A RESTLESS night, Jim rose and grabbed the phone in the bachelor pad, which was what the bunkhouse built for him and his cousins was called. It was early, but he figured Patience would be awake.

The same wavery voice answered.

“May I speak to Patience?”

“No. She’s gone.”

“Is this Mrs. Anderson?” Patience’s mother hadn’t sounded this old three years ago.

“Yes.”

“This is Jim Randall. When will Patience be back?”

“I don’t know. She went to find Tommy.”

“Is that her son? The one she said was taken?”

“Yes,” the woman said with a sob. “Patience has gone after Tommy and I’m so afraid the boy’s father will hurt them.”

“Mrs. Anderson, I’m coming over to see you. I’ll be there in about half an hour.” He hung up before the woman could say yes or no.

Jim knocked on his little brother’s door in the bachelor pad, then stuck his head in. “Drew, tell Dad I had some personal business to take care of. I’ll get back as soon as I can.”

“What time is it?” Drew asked, rubbing his eyes. He’d finished university last year and still wasn’t happy with the early mornings.

“Almost six. Tell Dad, okay?”

Drew closed his eyes and nodded at the same time. Jim didn’t hold out much hope that he’d remember.

When Jim reached the small brick home on one of the few back streets of Rawhide, he parked his truck and hurried to the front door. Knocking, he called, “Mrs. Anderson? It’s Jim Randall. Can you let me in?”

The door opened slowly. A woman he remembered as vibrant appeared pale and worn as she peered at him through the screen. Slowly she pushed it open and gestured for him to enter.

“Mrs. Anderson, I need to know what has happened to Patience. You said she’s gone after her little boy? Won’t that be dangerous?”

“Yes. I told her not to go. But she wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Where did she go?”

“Up in the mountains. The boy’s father has a camp up there. He…he just came to our house and grabbed the boy. And he cleaned out our pantry and left some worthless coins in place of the groceries.”

Jim frowned. “What do you mean, worthless coins?”

The woman hurried to a pine dresser. She picked up something and returned to Jim.

“These,” she said as she poured five small tin disks into his hand.

“Did you show them to the sheriff?” he asked.

“What’s the point? He already said he wouldn’t help us.”

“Why?”

“Because we never did anything legally about Tommy. Patience never formally adopted him. Legally, Joseph, his father, has custody.”

“Why do you think he’s dangerous?”

“Because he’s crazy. He wants Tommy to be a soldier!”

“And you told the sheriff this?”

“He told us he couldn’t do anything.”

Jim was as frustrated as Patience’s mother sounded. “I’ll go talk to the sheriff.”

“But what about Patience and Tommy?” She gave him a pleading look, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Awkwardly he patted her arm. “I’ll do what I can.” He turned and left.

A sharp wind was blowing and he settled his hat on his head and turned up his collar. It was late October and it wasn’t unusual to have northers blow through, some of them with snow.

He parked in front of the sheriff’s office. Jim knew Sheriff Metzger well. He’d had one or two minor run-ins with the law as a teenager, but he’d become a model citizen.

“Sheriff Metzger,” he said as he entered, sticking out his hand.

“Jim, how are you?”

“Fine. I have some questions, though.”

“Well, sure, son. Come on in and have a seat. How about some coffee?”

“Thanks. I’d like that.” Jim settled into the chair beside the sheriff’s desk. He glanced at the only other man in the office, an elderly deputy. “Hi, Dick. How’s it going?”

“Just fine, Jim. Tell your daddy hello for me.”

“Sure.”

The sheriff set down a mug of coffee beside Jim and circled the desk to take a seat. “Now, then, what’s bothering you?”

“It’s about Patience Anderson. She’s an old friend and—”

Sheriff Metzger held up a hand. “I told her I couldn’t help her,” he said.

“Sheriff, I talked to Patience briefly last night. But her mother says she left to go after the boy and I’m—”

“She left? Surely she hasn’t gone up to Kane’s camp! I told her she’d just have to wait. He’ll get tired of a little boy, I said. He won’t want to take care of him.”

“Who is this man?”

“You don’t know? Do you remember Faith, Patience’s older sister? She married a man named Joseph Kane. When Faith died—”

“Faith is dead?” Jim asked, shocked. He hadn’t heard anything about that. He would’ve called Patience if he’d known…

“I thought you said Patience was a friend.”

“She was. But apart from last night, I haven’t talked to her in three years. What happened to Faith?”

“She died in childbirth. That husband of hers didn’t want her to see a doctor. She bled to death. The baby was saved because Patience got there in time to get him to the doctor.”