Broken Angel (9 page)

SEVENTEEN

S
heriff Carney stepped from the shadows beneath the eaves of the livery when Mitch Evans began to slide the livery door shut. The horses nearby did not move.

“Got to say I’m disappointed, Mitch,” the sheriff said. “You and me go a long ways back.”

Carney had his pistol holstered. The two-way was clipped to his belt, but he’d shut it off. No telling when that simpleton Billy Jasper might call to ask about something, and Carney didn’t want any distractions here. Didn’t want anyone interfering either. If this could lead to finding the girl, Carney wanted this interaction as off-camera as possible.

“Clarence, you about gave me a heart attack,” Mitch said in a relaxed voice. “What brings you out after curfew?”

Mitch was slightly bigger, slightly older. In daylight, his face showed a few more wrinkles, and he was losing hair faster than Carney, but in his usual overalls, he cast an impressive shadow. He could crack walnuts with his bare hands.

“I never thought you were the one. But looking back, it makes sense.”

“Clarence?”

The sheriff leaned against the edge of the door. “I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon, how easy it might be for you, like hiding a needle in a haystack of needles.”

“It’d be nice if this conversation started making sense, Clarence.” Carney guessed Mitch had repeated his first name to emphasize their longstanding friendship.

“You know how things work in Appalachia,” Sheriff Carney said. “Bar Elohim is not intrusive in private affairs. Sure, public moments are recorded, and radio chips track the movements of every horse, every day. And you know the argument about how that protects folks in more ways than one. Gives them privacy. Just like the best place to have a secret conversation is in the middle of a party with fifty other conversations around you. Bar Elohim doesn’t have the time and manpower to examine more than half a percent of what gets recorded and saved. On the other hand, everyone knows that all of that information is somewhere on the mainframe, and enforcement can use it to unravel just about any crime against God or Appalachia, right?”

“Sure, Clarence. Just seems like a strange time and place to discuss something we both know.”

“I was able to track a recent visitor in town,” Carney said. “Don’t even know his name, just his face. And the fact that he was a wanted man. I tracked him right to your doorstep. You were the only person in town he had any conversation with.”

Mitch leaned against the opposite door frame. “Be glad to help if that’s why you’re here. Lots of folks come to me for horses.”

“Not lots of folks with Mason Lee hard on their trail. Last thing anyone like that wants is a horse that shows Bar Elohim every movement through a radio chip.”

“Can’t speak for how others think,” Mitch said. “I assume you have a photo or something so I can identify him and tell you what I can about his conversation with me.”

“Mitch, I’m thinking there’s a saddle under the blanket of one of those horses. That would be strange, wouldn’t it?”

Mitch straightened a little.

“See,” Carney said, “if the horse isn’t reported stolen, then there’s no reason to track it by satellite, is there?”

When Mitch remained silent, Carney continued. “Someone shows up at night, leaves with the horse, then sends it back when they get to the next town. Is that how it works? Chances are slight that someone in law enforcement would show up and check your horses to see if all of them are accounted for, especially if you only did this every couple of months. And especially if you were good friends with the sheriff, right, Mitch?”

Mitch took a step away from the livery, toward the horses outside the stable.

“All I want is the girl,” Sheriff Carney said. “She’s coming for a saddled horse, isn’t she? Tell me when you expect her, and then maybe I can go easy on you and your family.”

Mitch whirled and dove toward Sheriff Carney. It was fast and unexpected. Carney pulled his pistol to clear it from his holster, but he realized he’d made a mistake, playing this conversation so relaxed.

Mitch’s broad shoulder hit the sheriff squarely in the chest, knocking him against the wall. His head slammed back with a thud, dazing him. Before he could breathe, Mitch was on top of him, pinning his arms with his legs, sitting squarely on his chest.

Carney was looking straight up, but Mitch’s face was in a shadow, and Carney couldn’t read it. He tried squirming, but the man was too big. Mitch pushed the gun away from Carney’s reach.

“Don’t make this worse, Mitch. Surveillance cameras show me getting here. You kill me and nothing will show me walking away. Any investigation leads right to your door. Let me up right now, and let’s talk through a way to keep you from being sent to a factory.”

“What’s wrong with allowing a few horses to travel unsupervised now and then? What’s wrong with a little freedom? I’m tired of all this.”

“Tired enough for death by stoning?” Carney was trying to think of a way out of this. “Mitch, I don’t want that to happen to you. All you need to do is let me know when someone comes to you for an illegal horse.”

Then he heard a whirring sound. A sickening thump. Mitch tilted sideways, fell off Carney’s chest.

Carney pushed off his hands into a sitting position. It took him a moment, and the light at the entrance of the livery, to make sense of what he saw.

An outline of a man stood in the light. He held a pitchfork like a baseball bat. Poised to strike again.

Carney was in no position to raise his hands to protect himself from the thunderous blow to his head. The pain lasted only a heartbeat, then all sensation disappeared into a black void.

EIGHTEEN

L
eading the horse by the reins, Caitlyn was halfway through the gate when a monstrous figure rose from a low set of bushes just outside the fence. She took a half step backward and nearly lost her grip on the reins.

“You’ll have to turn the horse back into the livery. It’s past curfew.” The voice speaking to her was male. He sounded young—and apologetic.

She had no idea who he was or of his intent. But anyone out after curfew was disobeying the law. She knew she should feel terrified, but so much had already happened, she felt numb. She had to trust her instincts.

She wasn’t an expert rider but had spent enough time in a saddle to ride comfortably. She calculated about ten steps between her and the stranger. She turned the horse slightly to put him between her and the man for protection, then stepped into the stirrup with her good leg, ignoring the pain in her injured foot, and swung up quickly into the saddle.

The man had already lunged toward her. Much quicker than she expected for someone of his bulk. Before she could urge the horse toward the opening in the brush, he took the reins from her.

“I think the sheriff is looking for you,” the voice said. “If not, you’re still breaking curfew. And stealing a horse.”

Caitlyn thought of jumping down and trying to sprint, even with her sore ankle. Theo was back in the trees. Maybe she could warn him as she fled.

But with his other massive hand, the man reached up and locked one of her wrists in his fingers. “I can squeeze harder,” he said, “but I don’t want to. I don’t like hurting people.”

Instinct told her this man, large as he was, was telling the truth. She didn’t think he wanted to hurt her. Still, fear finally started pumping past her numbness, and she knew she had to escape arrest.

“Then let go of my wrist. You’re holding the horse so I can’t go anywhere.” She rubbed a foot along the ribs. Maybe she could kick the horse hard enough to bolt.

“I think you can. I don’t like being fooled either.”

“Please let go of me,” Caitlyn said. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Horse stealing is wrong. There’s a criminal code for it, but I haven’t learned it yet. Otherwise, I’d officially record this arrest on my vidpod.”

“It’s not what you think,” she said.

“I’m not so good at thinking. That’s Sheriff Carney’s job.”

“My job too,” said another voice. “Don’t know how you got here, but for someone so stupid, you saved me a lot of trouble.”

Caitlyn turned her head. From her elevated perspective on the horse, she saw the man approaching from the livery, maybe twenty paces away. It was too dark to see his features, but she recognized the object cradled in his arm.

A shotgun.

Billy didn’t like to hurry decision making because he always seemed to decide wrong. Like now. After leaving the jail, he’d decided not to directly approach the livery, because whatever Mason Lee had planned against Sheriff Carney couldn’t be good. If Mason was willing to lock Billy up, it wouldn’t be smart to just march into the livery when he knew all about the shotgun and what it felt like to have the barrel pressed into his back.

But when he’d raced around to the gate behind the livery, hoping his escape would make up for what happened with Mrs. Shelton, there’d been this girl, stealing a horse. Billy figured she probably had something to do with why the sheriff wanted him to watch the livery and Mitch in the first place, so she must be important. Even if she wasn’t important, she was breaking curfew and stealing a horse.

Now what?

Mason was right there, outlined by the light of the livery in the background, pointing the shotgun. In a way, Billy felt relieved. Immediate control had been taken away from him. He didn’t have to make a decision.

One handed, Mason flipped the shotgun around and offered the butt of it to Billy. “You going to tell me how you got out of that jail cell?”

“You’re giving me your gun?” Billy was so surprised at the offer of the shotgun that he kept his grip on the girl’s wrist.

“One minute you’re smart and the next you’re stupid. I’m not aiming at myself. ’Course I’m giving it to you…now take it. Watch the girl while I take the reins.”

“What about Sheriff Carney?” Billy asked as he accepted the weight of the gun.

“He’s in the livery,” Mason said. “Now you going to tell me how you got out of jail?”

Mason took the horse’s reins.

What had the doctor called the big ox?
Billy.
So how had Billy the simpleton escaped the jail cell?

This bothered Mason more than he would let on, as he prided himself on taking care of details. All of them. After locking Billy in the cell, Mason had gone through the sheriff’s office and removed all the firing pins from the weapons. Small as the chance was, with what Mason had in mind, there might come the day that Sheriff Carney had a gun on Mason. It wouldn’t hurt knowing the weapon was useless.

Mason would find out how the simpleton escaped the cell, but more important was getting the girl secured, like Carney and Evans. After using the pitchfork handle to knock the men out, bale twine to tie securely both unconscious men, and Evans’s bandanna to gag them, Mason dragged them into a feed room. He came out of the livery to look for the girl, whom he had seen leading the horse out through the gate. He’d intended to follow her first to learn what he could about her escape plans. Instead, Billy had sprung up out of nowhere.

Instead of seeing Billy’s arrival as a complication, Mason decided that Billy could be of considerable use once they reached the inside of the livery. So before calling out, he’d emptied the shotgun. It hadn’t been easy, cracking it open and dropping the shells into his motionless open hand at the end of the cast. Nor had it been easy keeping the shotgun tucked under his good arm so his other hand could transfer the shells into his pockets—one in each so the shells wouldn’t clink as he walked.

But after the men were tied and the gun was emptied, the rest of Mason’s plans would be easy. They would end with a fire killing Carney and Evans and framing Billy. Mason would be long gone with the canister before anyone figured out what had happened. Long gone, as in free. Outside.

The girl on the horse was silent as Mason turned them both around. She wouldn’t be silent for long, he thought, grinning in the dark. Some pleasures would arrive sooner than others.

With Billy behind him, Mason walked the horse toward the large, open doors of the livery. As he neared the building, he lifted his face into the security lights, making sure the surveillance camera had a good view. According to his plan, the footage would show the girl on the horse’s back and the deputy pointing a shotgun at both of them.

Face toward the camera, Mason clearly mouthed a silent word.
Help.

NINETEEN

T
he livery was built with open rafters, wide beams of wood where rats scurried with impunity, heard but unseen in the deep shadows. The fluorescent lighting that hung from the beams illuminated a corridor of clean concrete running between stalls. Billy felt more at home here than with his adoptive parents and certainly more comfortable than in the sheriff’s office. He felt a twinge of sadness at the memory of being plucked away from the livery and forced into the deputy position.

He looked at the clean floor with nostalgia and smelled the hay and straw with approval. The horses were still well cared for.

He glanced at the stalls, and some of the horses looked back with various degrees of curiosity. Billy knew many of the horses better than he knew any people.

Here in the light, Billy finally got a better look at the fugitive. She showed no emotion from her perch on the saddled horse. She stared calmly at Mason Lee’s back. She was wearing a cloak, with only her hands visible. And, of course, her face.

Billy blinked, hoping he didn’t show how his stomach suddenly felt dizzy. At least that’s how he would have explained it if he’d ever risked telling anyone what had happened when her eyes met his. Something about her calmness. Mostly her face, drawing him in so that he could hardly breathe.

He forced himself to look away, searching for Sheriff Carney.

“First tell me how you escaped the jail cell, then I’ll tell you where to find the sheriff.” Billy didn’t understand how Mason could have so easily anticipated Billy’s next question.

“I had a key,” Billy said.

“You had a key.”

“Ever since I locked myself in, I kept a key tied to my shoelace. I didn’t want to give Sheriff Carney a reason to yell at me if I locked myself in again.”

“Blind pig finding an acorn.” Mason shook his head in disgust. Billy couldn’t tell if Mason was disgusted with Billy or himself.

“Where’s Sheriff Carney?” Billy asked.

“It won’t matter to you.” Mason reached his good arm behind him and pulled out a pistol he’d tucked into his belt at his lower back. “Might as well drop the shotgun. No shells in it.”

Billy felt his mouth drop open. No shells. He wanted to open the gun and look but was afraid that Mason would shoot him or the girl.

Mason pointed the pistol at the midsection of the girl on the horse. “Toss the shotgun in the hay. You don’t want her to be belly-shot. Trust me.”

Billy threw it onto the nearby hay.

“Good boy,” Mason said, as if speaking to a dog. “Go down to the far end and open the other set of doors. As you work your way back, open each stall and let the horses out. I want them all out in the yard. Then open the yard gate.”

“The horses might run loose,” Billy said, recoiling from the instructions. This was the worst thing that could happen. Except for a fire.

“Do it,” Mason snapped. “If you don’t come back, you’ll be leaving the girl to die. Understand?”

Billy thought about it long enough to make sure he understood before nodding his head. He wished Sheriff Carney were nearby.

“Go,” Mason said.

Billy returned to Mason in less than five minutes. The horses knew his smell and were accustomed to him moving them out in the yard to clean the stalls. Billy couldn’t stand it, thinking that some of the horses might have already escaped through the open gate and were wandering into the hills.

“Now fetch some twine,” Mason said.

Billy pulled twine loose from a hay bale, seeing no choice but to obey, and he dropped it in front of Mason.

“Help her down,” Mason said, standing well clear of Billy. Still, Billy could smell the man’s sweat, like that of a boar.

“I’m sorry,” Billy said to her softly, reaching up. “He’s Mason Lee. The bounty hunter. I didn’t know things would happen like this.”

She surprised him with a small, compassionate smile. She didn’t struggle. She was light, bracing on both his arms, and her cloak was soft on his face as he set her on her feet. It seemed to Billy that she didn’t weigh anything at all, even accustomed as he was to moving things with little effort.

Mason kept his pistol trained on both of them. “Tie her hands. Behind her back.”

As he did, Billy saw that her fingers were long, almost like claws. He didn’t find it frightening.

“Tie her ankles,” Mason said. “Then set her on her back in that hay.”

Billy was as gentle as he could be. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again.

When he straightened, he noticed for the first time a strange metal canister near the pile of hay. He’d never seen it in the livery before.

“Sit on the floor, raise your knees, and tie your ankles,” Mason directed Billy, now pointing the pistol at his midsection.

Billy lowered himself. He cinched the twine until Mason grunted with approval.

“Roll over.”

“You can shoot me this way,” Billy said. “I’d just as soon see it coming.”

Mason walked to him and kicked him in the side of the head. It rocked Billy but didn’t turn him over.

“You
are
an ox,” Mason said, half in admiration. “That’d put any other man down. Now roll over before I shoot the girl.”

Billy turned onto his stomach. Mason pounced on his lower back and sat heavy.

“I’ve got this pistol tucked under my bad arm,” Mason said. “But don’t think I’d be slow to pull it on you. Both hands behind your back where I can tie them myself.”

Billy thought it would be better to die fighting, but the thought of the girl held him back, as he had no doubt Mason would shoot her. Maybe if Billy obeyed, she’d be okay. He knew now that she was the fugitive and worth bounty money. Billy lifted his hands from the concrete and put them on his back. Mason wrapped his wrists with the remaining twine, then stood.

“Not going to shoot you,” Mason said to Billy. “That would spoil my fun.”

He knelt beside Billy and showed him the long bowie knife he’d pulled from the sheath on his back. He nicked Billy’s cheek. The blood felt like tears.

“You shouldn’t have crossed me in the sheriff’s office,” Mason said. “When I’m finished with her, you’re next. Then I burn the place down, and you’ll take the blame.”

“People here know I don’t like hurting anyone,” Billy said. He heard a sound, like rats, on the rafters. He wanted to keep Mason talking.

“Not after they see the surveillance camera, with you and the shotgun following us into the livery. A person like you would let the horses out before starting a fire, right? That’s on surveillance camera too.”

Billy thought about it and realized it was true.

Mason laughed. “If only you could see your face and that frown.”

Mason stood again and moved to the girl. He pulled the metal canister close and opened the lid and set it beside the girl. White vapor rose from inside.

Mason held the tip of the knife above the girl’s belly. “I’m going to cut you wide open. It’s all right if you scream. Please do.”

He looked back at Billy. “You watching?”

Billy was watching. What he saw was a big rock that fell on Mason’s head.