Joanna Wayne - Miracle at Colts Run Cross

Bart stepped into the den. “Mother gave Juanita the week off so that she didn’t have to explain to her about the kidnapping, but the ladies made sandwiches and warmed soup. Can I get you some?”

“I can’t eat,” Becky said, “but we’ve finished up in here. Tell mother I’m going to my room for a while—and that I really need to be alone.”

“Sure.”

Being alone was the last thing Nick needed. And oddly, the soup sounded good. “I’ll join you. I just need a minute to wash up.”

“You’re holding your neck at a funny angle,” Bart said. “You must still be in a lot of pain from that hit you took yesterday.”

“Some, but don’t talk about it. I figure if I ignore it, it will give up and go away.” He didn’t believe that for a second, but still he’d leave the pain meds in his duffel bag. He was in the middle of the biggest game of his life, and he had to be completely alert.

DERRICK LAY in the twin bed and stared into the blackness. It was so dark he couldn’t even see David though he was just a few feet away. There was a window, but the weird guy who’d brought them here had nailed boards over it so they couldn’t escape while he was sleeping.

This was all Derrick’s fault. He should have known Uncle Langston wouldn’t send someone to get them who looked like this guy. But then he didn’t look so different from some of the cowboys who worked at the ranch. Some of them had tattoos, too, and they were good wranglers and nice people. Uncle Nick and Uncle Matt said so.

Only the guy hadn’t mentioned Uncle Langston until Derrick did. He just stopped the car and called them by name. Then Derrick had asked him if he was there to take them to the hangar where Uncle Langston kept his jet. He said yes and told them to get in. Derrick had hopped in first.

All his fault, so he had to come up with a plan to get them out of here before this crazy guy started twisting their arms behind their backs again. Grown men weren’t supposed to hurt kids.

Christmas was Friday. Their pageant was Christmas Eve. He had to come up with an escape plan fast.

He was smart for a third grader. He made A’s, well except in math. He figured math didn’t really matter if you were going to be a football player. He’d never once seen his dad working multiplication problems.

They could blindside the kidnapper and knock him out with a skillet. He’d seen that once on a TV show. Or sneak into his room while he was asleep and tie him up with the sheets. Only he and David were locked in the bedroom, and if they tried to break the door down he’d hear them.

But they could…

He closed his eyes and then opened them suddenly as the plan appeared like magic in his mind. He climbed out of the bed in the dark and felt his way to David’s bed, sliding his hands across the covers until his fingers brushed his brother’s arm.

“David.” He kept his voice low but shook him awake. “We don’t have to worry about Daddy getting five million dollars. I know how we can escape.”

As it turned out, getting five million dollars in cash on short notice was more of a problem than any of them had anticipated. Nick had the funds but not in liquid assets. Converting it to cash would incur time that they didn’t have.

Finally, it had been Langston who’d arranged the transaction through the business account of Collingsworth Oil. Becky wasn’t sure how Langston had explained his need for so much money in small denominations, but apparently he had, or else the bank didn’t ask questions of their larger business accounts.

Becky and Nick were on their way into Houston to pick up the money from one of the main branches now. Nick was still in obvious pain from Sunday’s injury, so Becky was at the wheel and fighting the noonday traffic. Nick was holding his head at a weird angle and massaging the back of his neck.

“Do you have something to take for the pain?” she asked.

“Back at the ranch, but I’m not taking anything that affects my judgment.”

Becky took the freeway exit to the downtown area. The city was decorated for the holidays with huge wreaths on the fronts of buildings and storefronts and holiday displays in all the shop windows. The light changed to red, and she stopped near the corner where a Salvation Army worker was standing by her kettle and ringing a large red bell.

The spirit of the season came crashing down on Becky like blankets of gloom. Ever since the boys were old enough to tear wrapping paper from a present, Christmas had been her favorite time of year. She loved the carols and decorations, the boys’ excitement and the traditions.

They always decorated the tree before dinner on Christmas Eve. The entire family took part, but David and Derrick had more fun than anyone even though they spent as much time sneaking fudge from the kitchen as they did hanging ornaments.

Then, as far back as Becky could remember, they’d had hot tamales and Texas chili on Christmas Eve before leaving for the community Christmas pageant at their church. It was the highlight of the evening with even the eggnog, hot chocolate and desserts that followed taking a backseat.

“Derrick has a speaking part in the Christmas pageant, and David plays his drum.” She didn’t know why she’d blurted that out except that the thought of Christmas without them was unbearable.

“They’ll be there for it,” Nick said. “The boys will be back with us by tonight.”

She wanted desperately to believe that, but the cold, hard knots of doubt wouldn’t let go. The light changed again, and she sped through the intersection, eager to get the money in hand.

“I’d like to be here for the pageant,” Nick said. “And for Christmas morning, too.”

The old resentment surged. “Don’t you have a big game in Chicago on Saturday?” Even when he hadn’t been cleared to dress out, he’d always traveled with the team.

“I’ll miss the game,” he said.

“Are you feeling guilty, Nick?”

“I just think it’s important that I be here for Christmas this year. Can we just leave it at that?”

She spotted the bank ahead and determinedly forced her bitterness aside. She parked the car in a lot across the street from the bank. Nick paid the attendant while she grabbed the large valises they’d bought for the money and locked the car door. When they left the bank, an armed guard in street clothes would walk them to the car.

“I’ll take those,” Nick said, joining her and slipping the bags from her arm.

He slung the strap over his left shoulder and linked his right arm with hers. An incredible feeling of déjà vu swept over her. Walking arm in arm with Nick, the valise over his shoulder, a feeling of urgency burned inside both of them.

Like the night they’d rushed to the hospital for the twins to be born. Her water had broken and she’d been propelled into labor with strong contractions that came much faster than normal. Nick had flown into action, trying to be tough but clearly as frightened as she was. But he’d stayed with her every second.

The image of him holding both the boys in his arms minutes after they were born pushed its way into her mind. His smile. His wet eyes. The tenderness when he’d kissed her and thanked her for giving him the world. She shivered as the memories took hold.

Nick let his hand slip down to encase hers. “It’s going to be okay, baby. This is all going to be okay.”

But who was Nick to promise a happy ending?

DAVID WAS CURLED UP in a smelly old chair with stains all over it. He looked like he was asleep, but Derrick saw his eyes move every now and then and figured he was just faking it, probably thinking about Derrick’s stupid plan.

It had sounded great in the dark. The kidnapper couldn’t watch them every second. He had to go to the bathroom and when he did, they’d raise one of the windows, kick out the screen and make a run for it.