The Long Ride Home Page 15

  “Starr didn’t go with him?”

  Mary shook her head. “She hates Weasel and she doesn’t want any part of that crowd. She tried to talk Kylan out of going. They had a huge fight and he left with Weasel.” She raked trembling hands through her hair, so it was as wild as the fear in her eyes. “Weasel’s crowd is older, and some of them…” She bit her bottom lip when it started to tremble too. “Kylan’s not safe with them. And if he gets caught drinking, he’ll get suspended and won’t be able to go to nationals.”

  So they wouldn’t be calling JoJo. If it had been any other kid, David would’ve said it served him right. But Kylan wasn’t any kid, and intentionally or not, David had had a big part in whatever set him off.

  “Does Starr know where they went?”

  “A tire party somewhere north of town.”

  “Tire party?” David echoed.

  “Like a bonfire, except they’re too lazy to gather wood so they just burn old tires.”

  David grimaced, imagining the stench of burning rubber. “I’ll go with you.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  He ignored her, taking a right into the casino parking lot. “If this crowd is as rough as you say, you shouldn’t go alone.”

  And if Kylan didn’t want to come home, Mary wasn’t physically capable of making him. David was.

  She wanted to argue, he could see it in her eyes, but good sense and concern for Kylan won out. She nodded reluctantly. As he pulled into a parking spot, Starr leaped out of her battered car and came running, her face puffy with tears. She jerked open Mary’s door. “I called my cousin Janelle. She parties with Weasel sometimes.” Starr gulped, her dark eyes fixed on Mary. “She said they were going to Freezeout Ridge.”

  Mary’s face went pasty and she clenched her hands into white-knuckled fists.

  “Janelle said she wasn’t going because the border patrol’s been on a tear, bustin’ up any parties they run across and callin’ in the tribal cops.”

  “Shit.” Mary squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. Then she dragged in a deep breath and opened them again, setting her jaw. “We’ll go get him.”

  “Maybe me and him should go,” Starr said with a doubtful glance at David. “I know the way, and that place…”

  Mary shook her head. “I’m going.”

  “Me too,” Starr said.

  “No. You know those guys—”

  “Yeah. I’m related to most of ’em.” Starr settled the matter by climbing in the back seat and slamming the door.

  Mary hesitated only a beat. Then she nodded at David. As he wheeled around, she said, “Take a left and go to the end of Main Street. Then take another left at the stoplight by the concrete tipi.”

  He followed her terse instructions and ended up on Highway 89, heading straight north out of town, past the hospital and signs that said Port of Piegan and Canada. A couple of miles out, Mary said, “Take a right up there.”

  The smaller highway angled to the east for a bit before cutting north again, getting narrower with every mile until the pavement ended completely. The gravel road started out broad and well-maintained but degenerated into rutted dirt pocked with mud holes. The pickup bounced and rattled, jarring David’s bones and slamming his shoulder against the door as they jolted through yet another wash out.

  Starr kept up a running monologue from the back seat, cursing Weasel, all of his crowd and Kylan’s hard head. How he could believe those jerk-ass scumbags were any friends of his. Was he trying to lose his chance to rope at nationals?

  “I told him.” She sniffled, the tears starting up again. “I said he’d get suspended if he got caught, but he said it didn’t matter, ’cause if he didn’t have Mutt, he couldn’t rope for shit anyway.” She punctuated the sentence with a glare at David.

  “That’s no excuse,” Mary said tightly. “I’ve told Kylan flat out to stay away from Weasel and them.”

  “But—”

  “No but.” Mary braced one hand on the dashboard as David wrestled the pickup over a set of axle-dragging ruts that didn’t fit his dual rear tires. “He won’t have to worry about having a horse for nationals. I’m not hauling him down there if this is how he acts.”

  David’s head bounced off the ceiling hard enough to make him see stars as they lurched over a cattle guard. Would Mary really refuse to take Kylan to nationals? Or was that just bravado, anger easier to handle than fear?

  And curse David’s selfish soul, he couldn’t help but think—just for a second—that if Kylan couldn’t go to nationals, taking Muddy away from him would be a whole lot simpler.

  “Take that road,” Mary said, pointing to the left.

  “What road?” David braked almost to a stop, squinting at what appeared to be a dried-up mud bog. Tire tracks ran through it to a packed dirt trail on the other side. But since it obviously saw little or no traffic, at least it wasn’t as rutted.

  The so-called road circled the flank of a long, high ridge, backlit by a sun that had only now dropped low in the western sky. “Is that Freezeout Ridge?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” As Starr leaned forward, peering between the front seats, a column of black smoke billowed ahead. “Those dumb shits. They ain’t even smart enough to wait ’til it’s dark to light their fire. If there’s border patrol anywhere close, we’re screwed.”

  The draw narrowed, squeezing the road into a tight S curve. Out in the open, the prairie gleamed with slanted golden sun, but in the dense shadow of the butte, it was twilight.

  Mary wrapped her fingers around the door handle. “Stay in the pickup, Starr,”

  “I’m not scared—”

  “Kylan’s still mad from your fight,” Mary cut in. “If he sees you, it’ll be harder to get him to come with us.”

  And David wasn’t absolutely sure they could force him, especially if Weasel and the others decided to interfere. David’s hands bunched in reflex, his body tensing for a possible fight. His last attempt at brawling had been an embarrassment, but he was sober now and a whole lot more motivated.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Flames glowed ahead as the draw widened to form a small bowl carved into the base of the butte. Two battered cars were parked near busted-up chunks of concrete that looked like the remnants of a foundation. A cabin or possibly a barn. Hard to tell through the haze of oily black smoke.

  One thing was obvious—it was a dead-end road. They were bottled up like flies in a jar if any kind of cops came along.

  Starr hunched down, peeking from behind the headrest of Mary’s seat. In the smoke and the shadows, no one outside would see her. And they were all looking. Only half a dozen people, David saw with relief. Two guys and three women, all in their twenties, David guessed, though the years had been hard enough they could’ve passed for forty. Kylan was a soft spot in the crowd, standing toward the rear with a beer bottle in one hand.

  Mary took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders. “Let me do the talking.”

  “No problem,” David said.

  Starr ducked lower as they kicked open their doors, triggering the dome light. The thud, thud of the doors closing was loud as a thunderclap in the now-silent clearing. As David and Mary approached the fire, a couple of the guys stepped forward to meet them, one wiry with a narrow, ferret face and hair slicked back in a greasy ponytail. The other weighed at least four hundred pounds, none of it muscle.

  Okay. They could maybe take these two as long as the big guy didn’t fall on them. David put himself behind Mary’s left shoulder as she stopped a few paces short, just out of reach. Even over the stench of burning rubber, David caught a whiff of body odor.

  “Hey, Mary,” the fat guy said with a sloppy leer that was missing a couple of teeth on one side. “Never figured you’d show up here.”

  “Hey, Weasel.”

  The fat guy was Weasel? David eyed him in amazement.
Either the nickname was based solely on his personality, or he’d been a lot skinnier as a kid.

  “If you wanna party with us, you better brought your own booze,” Weasel declared.

  Mary spread her hands, showing they were empty. “I guess we’re outta luck, so I’ll just take Kylan and go home.”

  “Maybe Kylan don’t want to leave. And you ain’t even introduced me to your friend.” The nod toward David sent a ripple through multiple chins. “Or is the hotshot cowboy too cool for us rez boys?”

  David shifted onto the balls of his feet, uncomfortably aware of how flashy his Finals jacket looked compared to the other men’s cheap, greasy windbreakers.

  Mary tilted her head toward him. “Weasel, this is David.” She kept her voice cool, her stance firm but not hostile as she shifted her gaze to the huddle of people. “Come on, Kylan, let’s go.”

  Kylan didn’t move. His face was set in the usual stubborn, sulky lines.

  “He’s tired of bein’ a sissy boy, always under your thumb,” Weasel taunted. “He’s gonna stay here, party with the grownups.”

  David slid his gaze from Weasel to his buddy and on to Kylan, let his disgust show as their eyes met. Is this what you want?

  Kylan couldn’t hold his stare. But he didn’t budge. Neither did Weasel.

  The skinny guy smirked. “Guess you can go on back to town, Mama Mary.”

  “Guess so.” To David’s astonishment, she stepped back, started to turn. Then she paused. “Oh, by the way…when we were driving out here, JoJo called to warn me. He heard on the scanner that the border patrol saw your smoke and they’re headed this way.”

  For an instant, they were frozen. Then they burst into frenzied movement as if the grass beneath their feet had gone up in flames. The women scurried around, fumbling for bottles and cans that weren’t empty yet while Kylan made a futile attempt to kick dirt on the fire. Only Weasel hesitated, like he might call her bluff.

  “Shit, Weasel,” the ferret-faced guy said, joining the stampede toward the cars. “Cops got a warrant on me. I gotta get out of here.”

  Weasel grunted, gave Mary one last leer. “Later, bitch.”

  The car sputtered and then roared, the skinny guy revving the engine as Weasel lumbered over and wedged his bulk into the passenger seat. Kylan started after them.

  “No, Kylan, you can’t—” Mary jumped to intercept him, but he shoved her away. She stumbled, going down to one knee as Kylan broke into a run.

  David didn’t bother to talk. He launched his body at Kylan like the defensive tackle he’d been back in high school. His shoulder slammed into Kylan’s chest and they went down in a heap, David on top. He heard the air go out of Kylan’s lungs in one big oof. The kid squirmed, but between lack of oxygen and David’s weight, it was a weak effort.

  His buddy Weasel wasn’t waiting around anyway. The car whipped around in a ragged, bouncing arc, the back bumper swinging close enough that the tires spat dirt in David’s face as the skinny guy gunned it. They hit the road at an angle, lurching over the grassy berm. The rear end slewed sideways, first one way and then the other. One tire caught in some brush on the shoulder, sent the car careening up the side of the draw. The driver yanked at the wheel and it swung sideways, slid downhill, caught, the uphill tires coming off the ground.

  For an instant, it hung there, a breath away from rolling down the embankment and into the draw below. Then the tires slammed down and the front end came around. The car bounced onto the road and away, skidding through the bend in the draw and out of sight. The second car followed more carefully.

  Kylan jerked, driving an elbow into David’s gut. He rolled off, turning the kid loose.

  Starr ran up to crouch beside him, tears streaming down her face. “Ky, baby, are you okay? Oh my God, I don’t know whether to hug you or kill you.”

  She chose the first, flinging her arms around him and burying her face in his chest. At first, David thought the girl was making the weird moaning sound. Then he realized it was coming from behind him. He twisted around, alarm shooting another spurt of adrenaline into his veins. Mary was still on the ground where she’d fallen, crouched into a tight ball with her fists pressed against her eyes, face screwed up tight. She rocked slowly, rhythmically, her lips moving, another low, guttural moan coming from deep in her throat.

  David scrambled over to her on hands and knees and reached out, but he stopped short of touching her. Was she injured? Having some kind of seizure? “Mary? Are you hurt?”

  She gave no sign of hearing him. He leaned in closer, straining to hear the words she mumbled. “Eighteen, nineteen, twenty…”

  She was…counting?

  “Mary?” he said again, letting his hand rest lightly on her shoulder.

  She flinched away, shaking her head, counting louder. David pulled his hand back.

  “Starr.” he called softly. “What’s happening to her?”

  Starr peeled herself off Kylan and stood. With oily smoke swirling around her, face smeared with black makeup and hair wild, she looked as if she’d emerged from the apocalypse. She stared at Mary, edging closer. “Flashback, maybe? I heard she used to get them, and this is the worst place…”

  “What do I do?” David asked, helpless.

  “I dunno, but we gotta get out of here before the cops really do come.”

  Kylan stumbled to his feet, hunched over, his breathing labored. He shot a glare at David. “What did you do to her?”

  “I didn’t do anything!” David snapped. “You’re the reason she’s here.”

  “She din’t have to come after me,” Kylan shot back, but there was a whine under the bravado.

  “Oh, shut up,” Starr said, jabbing her elbow into his side. “You’re such a jerk.”

  Mary didn’t seem to hear any of it, still rocking and counting.

  “Can you carry her to the pickup?” Starr asked, with a panicked look over her shoulder at the road.

  Mary was small enough, for sure, but would she freak out if David grabbed her?

  “We have to go,” Starr said.

  She was right. They couldn’t get caught here with the fire still burning, remnants of the party scattered on the ground around them and beer on Kylan’s breath. David sent up a quick, silent prayer, then scooped Mary into his arms and staggered to his feet. Damn. For a little thing, she was packed pretty solid.

  She stiffened, her head rearing back, her eyes popping open but not seeing.

  “Easy, Mary,” he murmured in her ear. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

  He strode toward the pickup, fast as he could in the dim light, hoping to at least get her in the back seat before she came unglued. She strained against his hold, strong in her panic. David stumbled, nearly lost his grip, but as his hands began to slip, she went limp, curled into him and buried her face inside the open front of his jacket like a frightened kitten.

  Starr hustled ahead and opened the door. David tried to settle Mary on the seat but her fingers clutched his coat, refusing to let go.

  “Can you drive?” David asked Starr.

  “A stick shift? Uh…maybe.”

  “Not very good,” Kylan said. “I’m better.”

  “You’ve been drinking,” David said. “Get in the pickup. Starr can manage.”

  David ducked his head and slid into the back seat, Mary on his lap. Starr shut the door behind them and jumped behind the wheel.

  “Put it in first gear and let the clutch out slow,” David said as she fired up the engine.

  She did as instructed. The pickup lurched, but she didn’t kill the engine. She eased it around and onto the road. Kylan slouched on the passenger’s side, sneaking worried glances at Mary as David coached Starr through shifting into second gear and then third, which was as fast as they could go on the god-awful road.

  The pickup rocked through
a set of ruts and David cupped Mary’s head to keep it from bouncing against his shoulder. A sigh shuddered through her body and her hands released their death grip on his coat. She flattened one palm against his chest, the other fell into her lap. The harsh lines smoothed from her face.

  She was the only one who could relax. The air inside the pickup crackled with tension as the rest of them strained their eyes for any sign of a vehicle bearing down from any direction, but the visible lights were all stationary, orangish outdoor security lamps that had flickered to life as the sun sank behind the mountains.

  David’s adrenaline began to fade, slowly pushed aside by awareness. Mary’s warmth, the soft press of her body against his, the friction generated by the rocking and bouncing of the pickup. His body responded, his blood heating and his pulse rising.

  Stop. Geezus. He had to think about something else. Anything but how perfectly she fit there in his arms. How easy it would be to tip her head back, put his mouth on hers…and get his throat ripped out in return. He tried to conjure up depressing thoughts. Picture the withering, sun-baked prairie back home. That was always guaranteed to deflate his…mood. Dry. Dust. Desert…

  Afghanistan. What had happened to Mary over there, bad enough that re-living it could completely disable her? David had only vague impressions of news reports, half-heard stories of roadside IEDs and suicide bombers. He’d never paid attention. Had never wanted to know.

  Wasn’t sure he wanted to know now.

  After a five-minute eternity, they reached the main road. David breathed a sigh of relief as they bounced over the cattle guard and then sucked it back in when headlights popped over the hill behind them, followed immediately by an explosion of blue and red flashers.

  Starr said a very bad word as she pulled over. “Still think you shoulda drove?” she asked, shooting Kylan a spiteful glare. “Woulda been real smart, getting a DUI when you don’t even have a license.”