Ryker’s Justice

Evernight
Publishing ®

www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2014 Lee Ann
Sontheimer
Murphy

 
ISBN: 978-1-77130-964-6

Cover
Artist: Sour Cherry Designs

Editor:
Lisa
Petrocelli

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING:
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is
illegal.
 
No part of this book may be
used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission,
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This
is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or
dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

To
the family, friends, and readers who enjoy my stories both long and short, I
want to say “thank you”.
 
Without you,
none of this would be possible.
 
As a
wise woman once said, it takes a village to raise a child and I say a major
metropolis to support a writer.

RYKER’S JUSTICE

Lee Ann
Sontheimer
Murphy

Copyright © 2014

Chapter One

In
his natural element, Jude moved over the fallen autumn leaves with stealth, so
quiet that his feet made little sound. The woods enveloped him as he blended
with his surroundings. He belonged here and he knew it. Growing up as the
youngest of the half wild Ryker clan, he’d spent many childhood hours beneath
these trees. Jude knew where the deer grazed beneath the full moon, where the
sweetest wild grapes grew, and how to track almost any forest creature with
success. He’d hunted here, slept on this ground, and sought solace from nature
as long as he could remember. This forest nurtured his spirit and often
sustained his body when the cupboards at home were bare. When he left to join
the Navy, he had grieved at losing this patch of woods almost as much as he
regretted leaving his family behind.

Returning
to the old Ryker place, more ramshackle than he remembered, hadn’t been easy. If
he hadn’t been on assignment he wouldn’t be here now. In his fifteen years
away, he’d learned to appreciate the sea and to let the never-ending waves
provide a sense of comfort, but he’d never forgotten the rocky hills and secret
glens of his native
Ozark Mountains
. Until
now, he’d been back a handful of times, the most recent when his father died in
May. After spending a week scrubbing away the grime of decades, cleaning until
his back ached and fingers bled, he had managed to make the old house habitable.

Jude
had burned most of the trash and debris he hauled out of the house. He
purchased both a new mattress and sheets for the bedroom,
then
bought a couple of used recliners in town so he’d have a place to sit. No way
in hell did Jude consider sitting on any of his dad’s aged and stained
furniture.
What he hadn’t burned, he’d stored in the barn.

On
this October morning, he inhaled the loam of the woods and savored it. The wind
brought a hint of wood smoke, a familiar fragrance. It reminded him he’d have
to cut wood soon so he could heat the old house. The first frost of the season
two weeks earlier had brought a chill to the long nights but he’d hunkered
under a heavy-duty sleeping bag and one of his late mother’s old quilts found
in a closet upstairs. Although she had died when he was six, he remembered the
smell of the rose scent she favored, the soft timbre of her voice, and the
loving contentment he’d known in her arms. Until she died, she’d rocked Jude,
the youngest of the family, to sleep every night and sang to him. The maple
rocker remained in the living room, although he hadn’t dared plant his muscular
frame in the seat. Having it there was enough.

A
yellow leaf fluttered to the ground, slow and lazy. Jude hoisted the rifle he
carried higher on his left shoulder and scanned the treetops for squirrel. Fried
squirrel sounded fine for supper or if he wanted to make the effort, so did
squirrel and dumplings. He hadn’t had either for years but he remembered the
taste. He’d grown up eating game--squirrel, rabbit, venison, and deer,
sometimes coon or wild hog. The rest of the Ryker’s diet revolved around
hamburger, hot dogs, and bologna. A pot of beans had simmered on the stove
through the winter, seasoned with ham if they had it, bacon if they didn’t. His
mom had made fried chicken, he recalled, but his father never did. Fried fish
from the river, though, had been another favorite.

He
sniffed the wind, hoping to catch the elusive aroma of cooking mash so he could
track down the still he suspected wasn’t far, but all he caught was the river’s
smell. Ten years in the Navy gave him an appreciation for saltwater but he’d
never abandoned his original affection for a wild river. Five years spent
working as a special agent for the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and
Explosives had brought him back to the
United States
. Jude had been
assigned everywhere from the California coast and the urban sprawl of
Washington D.C., to the Appalachian mountains, but when ATF got serious about
busting a major moonshine operation in the Ozarks, they pegged him as the agent
for the job.

No
one but his supervisors knew why Jude Ryker returned home, not even his
brothers. Everyone assumed he’d exited the military for whatever reason and
being a Ryker, considered shiftless in the eyes of the community, he’d crawled
home because he had no place else to go. His brothers had never left so his
prodigal return had been long expected. Local gossip said no Ryker could make
it long in the outside world and although he’d spent a decade in the Navy, on
ship and later as a submariner, no one figured Jude to be an exception. None of
the rest of his family had gone anywhere. They followed the expected pattern
and even his brothers’ successes weren’t acknowledged by the locals.

Adam
still worked at the feed mill, Noah as a supervisor at the poultry processing
plant, and Elijah taught wood shop at the county high school. His two sisters, Abigail
and Esther, were both married with children. His siblings welcomed him back
with the devoted yet casual sense of family they’d always shared. When
necessary, they were tight and connected. Adam remained closest to Jude, friend
as well as brother, but he hadn’t even shared with Adam his real reason for
return.

I should’ve asked Adam to come
squirrel hunting with me,
Jude thought, but he dismissed the idea as quickly as it came. He couldn’t, not
when he scouted around for any evidence of a still nearby. He doubted anyone
would dare to trespass enough to put their still on Ryker land but it wasn’t
impossible either. With Daddy dead for more than five years and Jude absent
until last spring, someone might think their presence might go unprotected. And
if they had, Jude figured they’d pulled up stakes since he came back in May.

But
he believed the still to be close, probably on one of the adjacent properties. If
he could discover it, then he’d make major progress in identifying the
participants, making the bust, and shutting down the illegal liquor operation
in the county. He’d accepted the duty and he would carry it out.

Right
now, though, he wanted to enjoy the morning in the woods, shoot a few
squirrels, and just be Jude, not Special Agent Ryker. So he ambled through the
woods along the familiar paths. He savored the minimal warmth of the late
October sunshine filtering through the trees. His feet moved across the forest
floor and when he came out of the woods to the riverbank, he paused to admire
the water.

Sunlight
danced across the surface and highlighted the ripples. The current moved fast
here, always had. Across, on the opposite bank, Cockrell’s Country Inn stood as
silent as a sentinel and cast a shadow over the water. The frame structure
dated back to the early 1900s and although Jude remembered when it sat empty
and almost derelict, the owners had refurbished it in recent years. Rick and
Mary Cockrell had accomplished the near impossible by turning it into a viable
inn with a good business. Since he came home, he’d worked for them as a
handyman when needed. It made as good a cover as any.

He
tilted his head up to gaze at the second story and when a curtain fluttered,
Jude grinned. The room belonged, at the moment, to Nicole McAdoo. He knew
little else about her but her name but she’d intrigued him from the day she
arrived at the inn. He’d spoken to her, a polite good morning or an evening
how-do-you-do but nothing more, although he wanted to very much. Jude ached to
know why her eyes were shadowed with sadness and why she seldom smiled. He’d
like to be the guy who made those eyes sparkle and those lips curve into a
sweet smile.

Aware
of her gaze, he lifted one hand in greeting. He hadn’t expected a response and
thought she’d probably jump back from the window, startled. Instead, Nicole
opened it and leaned out. “Hello, Jude Ryker!”

A
grin spread across his face. Her boldness came as a surprise but it pleased
him. She’d seemed too timid to hail him from across the river. “Hello,
yourself, Nicole,” he shouted back with a wave. Then, before the encounter
could turn into a calling match sure to attract attention, he turned back into
the cover of the trees. Later, he vowed, he’d get better acquainted with the
lady.