A Pair of Second Chances (Ben Jensen Series Book 1) (26 page)

"I guess the Sheriff was thinking along that same line. I guess that's why he called in the State Police to help with the investigation. Three dead drug dealers was a little more then his department could handle all by itself I guess." Linus said with a wide eyed look.

"Yeah, funny, as in strange. I heard on the news this morning that those men were shot with a 30-30. Strange weapon for a bunch of drug dealers." Linus just shook his head and looked at the cash ticket the teller had handed him.

"Well Ben" he spoke, not looking up from the ticket. "Apparently, counting was not one of the higher skills of the "They" you worked for."

Still on edge, Ben asked; "How's that? The mortgage due is $75,000 right?"

"Actually Ben, it's a tad over $73,000... but, this here, what was in the sack, is only..." Linus hesitated for a second; "$80,000 dollars!" Linus laughed. "Jesus Christ Ben! Where in the hell did you get eighty grand, without selling a hair on a hide?" He hesitated a few seconds with Ben just looking across the desk at him. "You're really not going to tell me are you?" He said, partly disbelieving.

Ben looked at him stoically, for several more seconds, then cracked a wide grin. "Nope Linus... I ain't! and Linus? I've got places I have to be." He stood and started moving toward the door. "I'm sure you'll figure out how to put that against my debt. I'll come by in a few days and you can tell me how much trouble I'm in." Ben laughed.

Something struck Linus at that moment, like the proverbial thunderbolt.

"Ben?" he asked; "Does this" he raised the bank's cash ticket and shook it; "have anything to do with those Jamaican fellas, they found dead over to Ennis?"

Ben stopped and slowly turned back toward his friend and Banker. "Why would you ask that Linus?" he asked seriously.

"I don't know Ben. Something about the way you said. "Did a job" and "Took out the trash"... and then... three dead drug dealers... that bag of money... I ... "

"Jesus Linus! You had me goin' for a minute. But, truth is, you're right! I have to admit it! You're right! Needin' money bad, I sobered up, shaved, looked around for an opportunity and found a gang of drug shovers to track from Chicago to Ennis Montana; where I, with a bad attitude and a 30-30, outnumbered, what? three to one? more? figuring some got away, ambushed 'em so I could rob 'em and pay my debt to the Bank! Damn Linus! You've been workin' too hard Buddy! You couldn't sell that story to Steven Spielberg!" Ben laughed. "You crack me up Linus, you surely do!" Then, still laughing, he turned and walked out the door, leaving Linus standing behind his desk with his mouth hanging open.

What Linus couldn't see was the look on Ben's face when he stepped through the front door walking to his truck sitting at the curb. He was spooked. He really hadn't worried much about himself being connected to some drug runners out of Chicago. Montana was a big place.

It's a big place alright, but the whole state had fewer people then the City of Chicago. Things just had a way of standing out more out here. Especially, if they were out of place. It worried him. It occurred to him that those men had found him. Who had they spoken to? How had they got his name?

"Damn! Son-of-a-bitch!" he cursed.

The euphoria he'd walked into the bank with, after the night he'd had, evaporated in a flood of what ifs. What if one of those people who'd inadvertently given up his name put it together and called the state police? What if they asked at a gas station if they knew how to get to the Jensen ranch?

"Aw shit!" he cursed as he drove out of Columbus, pounding on the steering wheel.

He drove a few miles cussing before he finally told himself; "Ok dumb ass, get a grip. What do they have? Somebody asked about you. Somebody was wondering where you lived, and now those somebody's are dead. But, what can they HAVE on You? Nothing!"

"You policed up your brass. You policed the area. You left no evidence they can tie you to that place with. Hell, you even took the battery out of your phone till you were back out of that area and a few hundred miles away. You left nothing but tracks. You didn't even buy fuel within a hundred miles of the place. And what you did buy, you paid cash for. No one saw you in the same county as those fools. No one. Well, except for Amanda. Relax. You've left no evidence."

As he said that last, he looked down at his boots; "Tracks" he thought.

He pulled the truck into McGivern's Mercantile in Butte, jumped out and walked quickly inside. Thirty minutes later, wearing a brand spankin' new pair of high top boots, he walked out, carrying his old boots in his hands.

Ben climbed in the truck, drug a shoeing rasp from under the seat and, sitting on the seat of the truck, worked those old boots over for ten minutes, destroying the soles. Then, he started the truck, drove two blocks down the street and around the rear of the Safeway store, and dumped one of the boots in the dumpster.

The second boot rode on the seat beside him to a bridge over the Missouri River on I-15, about 40 miles north of Helena, where the boot sailed out the window, into the big river below, bound for the Gulf of Mexico.

Rolling on to Great Falls he pulled in to the parking lot of an Ace Hardware, went inside and bought a hacksaw and a half dozen fresh blades.

Just past Choteau, on the way back to the cabins, he pulled off the gravel into a wide pullout. Sawing feverishly for most of 45 minutes; and ruining three of the saw blades in the process, he cut that good old 30-30 he'd pulled out from behind the seat into a half dozen pieces. These he scattered in creeks, ponds and rivers he crossed along his path as he returned to the cabins and Amanda.

Feeling a bit more secure, now that any connection, beyond whoever the Jamaicans had talked to, was destroyed, he drove the few remaining miles to the Lodge and was just turning up the driveway to the Lodge when his phone rang.

"Well sir, four big black fellas, from somewhere down in the car-uh-beuhn," he started; "at least that's what they sounded like to me, had that funny, sing songy kind of accent, you know? They come in here, mid afternoon, wondering where your ranch was. Said they were lookin' for an outfitter, and heard you was one."

"Really, you tell 'em how to find me Ellis? I... uh ... never seen 'em."

"You bet Ben, told 'em how to drive right up to your front door. Didn't really have a reason not to, though, they didn't look or sound like hunters to me."

"Well Ben, it seems three, big black fellas, from one of them car-uh-beuhn islands, went an' got themselves shot dead, over to Ennis! Whoever done the deed, done it with a 30-30."

"Really? Damn bad luck for them Ellis." His chest was thumping like a drum and the blood was roaring in his ears so loud, it was making it hard to hear the phone. "But what's that got to do with me Ellis?" Ben asked, scared his voice was shaking, and hunting his mind for a way, any way, to talk himself out of this.

"Oh," Ellis hesitated. "Nothing, nothing at all." Ellis chuckled. "Just thought you should know Ben."

"Nah Ellis, sold that Ol' thing for beer money, two, three years ago." Ben lied yet again. "Damn thing couldn't hit the ground anyway."

"You bet Ben. Your Ol' Dad used to have to club all those deer he killed with that rifle over the years. Never could hit 'em with a bullet." Ellis said, sarcastically. "Well, whoever done it needs to take good care. There's still one of that four still walking."

That Old man was warning him he knew. Right at that moment he was glad he still lived in a place where you could know that your neighbors had your back. That they watched out for each other, in a way he thought, you wouldn't find anywhere else in the country.

He was still worried though. Inside him festered the feeling gnawing away at his guts, that those men had talked to more than just Ellis Cantrel. That they'd talked to people who weren't his neighbors. People who would talk. He knew he'd better get his story straight, and tell it the right way, when the police came asking questions. And come they would, of that, he was sure.

The other thing, he knew for sure, was that he'd need to keep some distance from Amanda. When the police found him, he didn't want anything leading them to Amanda. He needed to make sure she was kept out of it.

Chapter
27

When she heard the sound of the truck coming up the drive, late in the afternoon, almost evening, she stepped over to look out the window. She and Timmy had just returned to the Lodge from a walk around the perimeter of the big meadow that lay, mostly, to the east of the buildings.

She watched as Ben drove up, and could see him talking on his cell. It made her a little nervous when he put the phone down and then just sat in the truck with his chin on his chest.

Finally, he pushed the door open and slowly climbed out. She pulled the Lodge door open and stepped out onto the porch, Timmy close behind.

"Hi Ben. You ok? You... look kind of worried?"

Ben blew out a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks. Making a wide eyed face he stepped up on the porch. "Hey Timmy! I got you this ball in town" he tossed him a red rubber ball he'd picked up when he bought the hacksaw in Great Falls.

"If you take it around the side of the Lodge here, around there," Ben pointed; "You can throw it against the wall and try to catch it when it bounces back. No windows on that side so you've got no worries!"

"Happening? Yeah, you could say that." Ben spent the next few minutes filling her in on all that had happened, and all he'd spoken with... well... except for Emily. He saw nothing helpful for anyone in revealing that little bit of news. Hell, it still had his head spinning.

"Oh God Ben. I'm so sorry. I never wanted this. I only wanted Timmy and I to have a chance. A second chance. I've made such a mess of things." she put her face into her hands and started crying.

"Hey, stop." Ben pleaded. "It's not as bad as it might sound, really. We'll work all this out. It's just gonna take some more time."

"Work it out? How Ben? What are you going to do when they arrest you for... for... Murder?" she cried, tears streaking her face. "What am I going to do?"

"Listen," he commanded, gripping the woman by her shoulders and shaking her softly. "They aren't going to arrest anyone for any of that. I'm sure they'll come around eventually to ask me some questions. But, that's all they can do. They can have their suspicions, but, they've got no evidence. They've got nothing. They can't even put me and those fools in the same place at the same time. Well, not after the campground anyway." he smiled at her, still holding her shoulders. "and they were alive when they left there! Some doctor can likely attest to that!" and he laughed.

"They'll snoop around, but they won't find anything. I wiped away all the tracks that could lead to me. I promise!" Ben pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her in a hug. "I promised you girl. I'd get you and your boy through this. I intend to keep that promise."

Amanda responded by wrapping her arms around him and hugging back. "Thank you Ben. Thank you so much. They'd already have us if it hadn't have been for you." She looked up at him and without warning, kissed him again... and that electric wire got plugged in and went to arcing again.