No Mercy (28 page)

“You coming?”

“Nope. I’m too damn old to go traipsing around in the muck. I’ll wait here and play lookout. If I honk the horn, stay put.”

I hiked down the hillside to find a spot close enough to the action so I could hear and see what was going on tonight, but far enough away that I’d be part of the scenery.

At the bottom, in a flat area scraped clear of foliage, sat a fire pit ringed with the large flat stones Axel mentioned. Smaller white ones lined the inside. Were those the rocks Chet told me he’d seen the guys hauling? Is this where they performed all the rituals?

My gaze scanned the terrain. A couple of boulders had tumbled down and were imbedded in the rocky slope, but weren’t big enough to hide behind. I homed in on the sparse scrub oak bushes scattered along the back of the draw.

I could enter about two hundred yards down from the ridge. Seemed to be my best option. To test the theory, I crawled from the backside through the underbrush, pushing aside decaying leaves and breaking off low-lying branches so I’d have an unobstructed view. I mentally marked my spot and hiked up to my access point, leaving a clear set of footprints to Rollie’s truck, in case the Warrior Society members were practicing Indian tracking skills.

“Well?” he demanded.

“I’ll be shaving it close to keep them from seeing me, but I’m sure I can make it work. If not, and they do see the whites of my eyes… I doubt any of them can outrun me.” None of them could outshoot me, but it probably wasn’t smart to bring that up.

“Good.” Rollie aimed the truck at the ditch and spun a U-turn. “Now, when you come out here tonight, make sure you don’t drive past and miss it.”

“You have a string or something I could use as a marker? Since I’ll be coming from the other direction?”

“Check under the seat.”

I unearthed a piece of white nylon rope. I jumped out intending to comb the ditch for a stick.

The driver door slammed. “Hang on, I’ve got a stake.” Rollie rooted around in the truck bed, holding out a short chunk of metal as thick as a piece of rebar.

“This’ll work.” The parched earth had little give, but I screwed it in deep enough so the wind wouldn’t blow it over. I tied the cord around the top. No one would see my flag unless they were specifically looking for it.

After we’d returned to the truck, Rollie said, “You gonna sneak in, using some of them stealth tactics Uncle Sam taught you, eh?”

“That’s the plan.”

He opened his mouth. Shut it. Fumbled for another cigarette. Still, he didn’t speak his mind. He puffed away as we tooled down the gravel road in silence. It freaked me out a little because Rollie rarely curbed his tongue.

“Spit it out, Rollie.”

“What are you gonna do? Especially if you hear something about them killing Levi? Pull out your Desert Eagle and mow ’em all down? Show ’em ‘No Mercy’ hell-bent on vengeance?”

Feeling belligerent that he’d found a flaw in my plan, I retorted, “If I do, it’s no less than what they deserve.”

He shook his head, staring at me, his eyes bleak, his weathered red face wrinkled with concern.

“Jesus. What now?”

“If you are capable of mass execution, then you ain’t no different than the terrorists you been fighting the last few years. Think about it before you do something you can’t undo.”

Rollie flipped on the radio. Conway Twitty’s “Tight Fitting Jeans” effectively ended all conversation.

We didn’t exchange another word until we said good-bye as he dropped me off at the top of the driveway.

Dog-tired, I trudged upstairs. I had a long night behind me and I might have a long night ahead of me. I crawled between the sheets, still tangled from my romp with Dawson, and conked out.

It weirded me out, dressing for recon in my frilly, floral bedroom. Seemed I’d performed this ritual in another lifetime. Last time I’d been in Iraq. Last time I’d been 100 percent.

The disjointed sensation lingered as I climbed into the truck. I didn’t play the radio. My mind blanked, my sole concentration on breathing slow and deep so it would look like I wasn’t breathing at all.

I cruised the edge of the road. The second my headlights caught the flash of white, I parked in the ditch and turned off the engine. Cut the interior light, slipped out the passenger door and eased down the steep incline.

The ground was mucky from the rain. My boots felt like cement blocks from the caked-on mud. When I reached the spot where I’d cleaned out the underbrush, I belly-crawled into position on my elbows.

Seven figures were crouched around the bonfire. I didn’t recognize anyone with my naked eye so I pulled out my binoculars.

The attendees had coated their faces with red and white war paint, making it hard to tell who was who. Moser stood sturdy as a tree. The sunken chest belonged to Randall. Short one, Little Bear. Bulky guy… Bucky. Axel was tasked with dragging material for the fire from the outskirts of the group. A broad-shouldered man sat with his back to me. His face was aimed at the rocks, so I couldn’t see it.

A strange feeling unfurled in my gut.

The guy standing, doing all the talking, seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place him either. I listened.

“—making such a big deal about it.”

“We’re making a big deal because our friends are dead. And you can’t give us no good reason why. This wasn’t ’sposed to be part of it. Albert’s accident—”

“Yeah,” Moser interrupted. “We shoulda told the cops the truth about what happened. Now people are talking. Chasing us down and asking questions. Thinking we’re killing people. Ain’t gonna be long before—”

“Did your ancestors surrender when faced with adversity? Remember what happened to Lakota warriors when they practiced their religious rituals? They were slaughtered. If anyone knew, especially law enforcement, that a bunch of young Indian males were renewing some of those sacred rites, it wouldn’t matter whether or not Albert’s death was accidental. They’d arrest you.” He pointed to each person. “All of you. You’d spend the rest of your lives in the penitentiary.”

No one answered him.

I’d heard that voice before. Where?

Axel tossed the pile of tumbleweeds on the fire. A flash of eager yellow flames engulfed the desiccated plant, instantly burning it into red coals. As he poked the embers, he said, “We ain’t talking about Albert. We’re talking about the others. Did you kill them? Levi and Sue Anne?”

Everyone jabbered at once.

The big man stood, lifted his arm to the sky. Metal glinted in the fire’s orange glow. He fired in the air. Twice.

Immediate silence.

My heart pounded like a tom-tom. Not many men that size in this county. Three I knew of off the top of my head. One was dead. One worked for the man who’d threatened me. One had woken in my bed this morning. The man started to turn—I wanted to squeeze my eyes shut—but I kept the binoculars trained on him. Even as my hands shook and the pitiful mantra of
please don’t let it be him
began a loop in my head.

The brightness of the fire illuminated the man’s wrinkled red face. Not Dawson, thank God.

Hiram Blacktower.

But my relief was short-lived when I realized the man Hiram was talking to, the man in charge, was Hope’s boyfriend, Theo Murphy.

I refocused. Chaos ruled. Moser shouted accusations at Theo. Bucky and Little Bear were pointing and yelling at Hiram. Randall sat on a rock, rocking, his arms wrapped around his up-drawn knees. Axel watched the scene unfold with strangely wise eyes, stirring the coals out of reflex, not need.

Hiram raised his gun and fired again.

Silence fell.

Theo said, “Thank you, honored leader.”

Axel snickered.

Theo whirled on him. “Have something to say, Axel?”

“To you? Yeah. This is bullshit. I don’t know why you’re in the Warrior Society anyway. You ain’t Sioux.” He spoke in Lakota to Hi.

Hiram shook his head.

Theo snapped, “In English.”

Guess I wasn’t the only one who didn’t understand the language.

Axel didn’t look at Theo. Nor did he miss a beat when he switched to English and addressed Moser. “Didja invite them ’cause they offered to buy us booze? Is that really what the Warrior Society is about? Getting drunk and letting anyone in as long as they bring us a suitcase of Coors?
Shee
. How’s that make us different from the rez gangs, eh? Just ’cause we ain’t selling meth don’t mean what we been doing is right.”

Moser twitched. Little Bear angled his head from the fire, leaving his face in shadow.

My rage festered in the surreal stillness.

“We were doing just fine on our own. For a while, I was even proud of the group we started. A place where we talked about our Lakota heritage, learned our traditions. Ever since Moser brought in this white motherfucker”—he pointed at Theo—“and this half-baked half-breed”—he aimed his slender finger at Hiram—“
they’ve
taken over. Now they’re dressing in buckskin and war paint? Telling
us
how to be Indian? How screwed up is that?

“Some of our
kolas
are dead and these guys are saying
so what
? Ain’t that what we were trying to get away from on the rez and everywhere else? Adult white folks dismissing us as worthless thugs? Or savages?”

Bucky said, “Axel’s right. That horse coulda thrown any of us. Why’d we hide the truth?”

“It’s too late to make it right now. Who woulda been in trouble anyway? We’d be headed to juvie, not the pen. But didja ever wonder how he”—Randall gestured to Hiram again—“knew
exactly
where to dump Albert’s body? It was like he already had a place all picked out.”

All faces turned toward Hiram.

“We let Blacktower take advantage because we was all too drunk to realize both of them had other motives.
White man
motives. Makes me sick. Especially when I heard what you guys did to Lanae. There ain’t nothing in our history, or any Lakota ritual, about raping a virgin as a sacrifice to the Great Spirit. These assholes just wanted a young piece of dark pussy, and they used us to get it.”

Warning chills raced up my arms. Axel was playing fast and loose against a guy with a gun. Not smart.

“That’s enough, Axel,” Theo warned.

Axel paid no heed. “I ain’t gonna listen to this bullshit. I sure as hell ain’t gonna take part in something that’s gonna hurt anyone.”

“I’ll remind you that this sudden burst of conscience will not absolve you of your past actions in any of these situations, either in our eyes, or in the eyes of the law,” Theo said.

Axel laughed. “You can do whatever you want, ‘Great White Chieftain’ or whatever dumb-ass name you wanna be called. And you better let me do the same.”

“Or what? What makes you think you’re safe?”

Nothing thinly veiled about that threat.

“If anything happens to me, like what happened to Levi or Sue Anne, I got someone who’ll spill everything that’s been going on with this stupid group to the sheriff. And then he’ll come after you.”

“You wish,” Theo sneered. “Sheriff Dawson won’t do a damn thing based on the scared ramblings of a fifteen-year-old kid when he hasn’t done squat about two clear cases of murder.” An arrogant expression crossed Theo’s face. “He doesn’t care about dead Indians. Only thing he cares about is getting elected sheriff. And since high school kids can’t vote, and neither can the people on the rez, I don’t think he’ll be too concerned.”

Part of me wanted to defend Dawson; a bigger part feared Theo had made the right assessment.

“Wrong. If I tell him that you—”

“I’ll tell him that you failed my class, which isn’t a lie, and you’ll make up all sorts of lies to cause problems for me.”

Axel said, “You asshole.”

“And if any of the rest of you really want to push it, I’ll inform the sheriff I suspect you guys”—he gestured to Little Bear and Moser—“killed Levi because he’d cozied up to your old girlfriend, Sue Anne. How long you think it’ll take before he connects the dots to Sue Anne’s murder?” He faced Randall. “You’re not out of it either. Albert ran away from home and hid out in your basement. Not to mention Bucky, here, stole the horse, that killed Albert out of his uncle’s pasture. Don’t forget you all participated in the mating ritual, some of you several times. Not one of you here is without guilt.”

Dead silence.

“Don’t screw with me, boys; I’ve got you by your little teeny balls.”

Axel spit on the rock by Theo’s feet. Then he said to Bucky, “We’re outta here. For good.”

Bucky shot Hiram an anxious look before he chased after Axel. I gave the kid credit; he didn’t turn his back to the man with the gun until they were out of sight.

Theo glared at Moser, Little Bear, and Randall as they backed up, also intent on escape. Without a word they fled. An engine sputtered, roared to life, and broke the quiet.

Hiram plopped on a rock. “This ain’t going the way it was planned.”

“No, really? Brilliant deduction.” Theo stood. “Stay here and put out the fire.”

“Where you going?”

“To follow those little shits and see if I’ll need to do any more damage control.”

“
More
damage control? What’d you do?”

“What needed done. What you and that asswipe Kit were too civilized to do.”

Hiram shook his head. “That ain’t your job. You’re supposed to be convincing her to sell. Period.”

“She will. Soon.” Theo disappeared up the hillside.

I listened until I heard his vehicle drive away. Then I pushed back through the bushes and unsheathed my knife. Ten seconds later I had that knife at Hiram’s throat.

“Drop the gun.” My voice was an unrecognizable growl.

He didn’t argue.

“Kick it next to the fire.”

Hiram stretched his leg. With the toe of his boot he sent the gun skittering over the barren ground like a silver spider.

I dug the blade in, drawing blood so he knew I wasn’t bluffing. My knife skills were rusty. I looked forward to a hands-on refresher course.

“Did you kill Levi?”

“No!”

I didn’t believe him. “Did you kill Sue Anne? Leave her to bleed to death on my porch?”

“No. But—”

“But what?”

Another pause and he blurted, “I think Theo did.”

“Did he kill Albert Yellow Boy, too?”

“That was an accident, I swear.”

“Convince me.”

“Moser, Little Bear, Bucky, Randall, Theo, and me were out here doing fast mounts and dismounts. As Albert climbed on, a rattler spooked the horse and it reared. Albert tried to get loose, but his shoe caught in the stirrup. The horse threw him sideways and broke his neck. Killed him right away.”

“Why’d you move him to my land?”

“We thought a dead boy, especially a friend of Levi’s who’d been in trouble, would convince you and Hope to sell the ranch faster.”

“Was that scare tactic Theo’s idea?”

“Yeah.”

“Why should I believe you didn’t kill Levi as an additional incentive for us to sell?”

“That wasn’t in the plan. We figured Wyatt would leave the estate stuff to Hope. With him dying… she’d need someone else to depend on.”

“It never occurred to you she could depend on me?”

“Ah. No. Kit introduced Theo and Hope, thinking Theo could feed us information on everything that was going on, while convincing her to sell to us.”

“You purposely set up my sister with that piece of shit?”

“Nobody twisted her arm to crawl in his bed, Mercy.”

I hissed and dug the blade edge into his Adam’s apple. “Wrong answer, Hi.”

“Okay, okay! Yes, Kit set them up.”

“When?”

“About five months ago.”

Jesus Christ. They’d planned to get their grimy hands on the Gunderson Ranch before my dad was even in the ground. “How did Kit know Theo?”

“After Theo moved here, he came into the real estate office asking about local land for sale. He was scouting for that group in North Dakota he used to work for; them guys wanted a place to run a huge herd of buffalo.

“Kit promised Theo if he could talk Hope into agreeing to sell to Kit’s investment group, he’d set a side a large section for them buffalo guys to buy. Problem was, we didn’t know Theo was such a wild card. He wormed his way into them kids’ group by talking about his ‘Indian blood’ and his understanding of Lakota rituals. When Theo bragged that he could get them kids to do anything he wanted, including hurting themselves and each other, it freaked Kit out. Everything was s’posed to be handled on the QT. He sent me to keep an eye on him.”

“Theo, the almighty Indian leader, didn’t care you were babysitting him?”

“No. Since I’m Lakota, he acted like I was Tonto to his Lone Ranger. Them kids didn’t care who hung around either as long as there was enough booze flowing.”

“Were you there when they raped Lanae?”

He swallowed hard and I smelled his guilt.

“Did you participate?”

Eerie silence.

“Answer the question.”

His voice was barely a whisper. “Yeah, but I was drunk.”

My hand awaited instructions from my brain.

One quick slice
, the barbarian in me urged.

Get more information first
, the dutiful soldier retorted.

I breathed. Weighed my options.

Another voice broke through my rage. Not my dad’s. Rollie’s.
Don’t do something you can’t undo.

It took effort, but I forced the blade from his throat. I had enough information. I could’ve walked away. Instead, I exchanged the knife for the Sig and placed the barrel at the base of his skull. Although we were ten feet from a fire, Hiram shook uncontrollably. I didn’t care. “Was Dawson involved in any of this?”

“No.”

“None of it?”

“None of what?”

“Hiding the truth, Hi.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

The man was so stupid it shocked the hell out of me this Warrior Society stuff stayed under the radar on his watch. “Yes, you do. Kit. And you. And Trey. And Laronda. Who had a hand in setting fire to my buildings? Whose idea was it to assault me? Or was it an attempt to kill me? And do you know how pissed off I am that Hope bore the brunt of that attack?”

No answer.

I grabbed his hair and yanked. “Don’t so much as twitch again or I’ll put a bullet in your addled fucking brain.”

Hiram whimpered like a kicked dog. “Don’t hurt me.”

“Like Trey tried to hurt me by whacking me at Clementine’s?” That crack in my vulnerability still burned my ass.

“Trey done that on his own. He was just supposed to—”

“Supposed to what?”

“He’s a good-looking kid, and we thought because it’d worked with Hope—”

“That I’d fall on my back and spread my legs for him? Jesus. You guys are stupid.”

“So we were wrong, but we didn’t have nothing to do with none of the rest of that stuff.”

I let my voice explode in his ear as I pushed the gun deeper into his skin. “Convince me.”

“C-come on Mercy, you’ve known me for years. You think I’m c-capable of that kinda stuff?”

“I didn’t think you were c-capable of rape, you sick bastard, but you managed to do that. And now I see why Josiah wants nothing to do with you. You don’t have a shred of honor, Hiram Blacktower.” I leaned over his shoulder and whispered, “Give Kit a message. He won’t know where, he won’t know when, but I am coming for him.”

I smacked Hiram in the back of the head with the gun grip hard enough that he tumbled off the rock. He fell face-first in the mud, and groaned once. I didn’t know if I’d knocked him out or if he was faking it.

I didn’t care. And I sure as hell didn’t stick around.