Solomon's Decision (22 page)

"Yeah." All day to get there. Another day to get back. "Yeah!" It would work!
"Look, Denny, you remember when Pa said I was almost old enough to go up to the line
shack alone?"

"Last winter," his brother agreed.

"Well, I'm older now. So I'm old enough."

"I don't know," Denny said, sounding really doubtful.

"I do. Besides, what could happen? We've been up there a zillion times, and the
worst thing that's happened was when the mice got into our food." It was beginning to
sound like a grand adventure, and he was more determined than ever to go.

"Yeah, but Pa was with us."

Jace jumped to his feet. "He's busy haying." Starting down the hill, he looked back
over his shoulder. "Are you comin' or what?"

"I'm comin'," Denny said, still sounding unsure.

They ran down the hill and across the wide driveway between the barn and the
house. From the barn, Abby's and the twins' high voices told Jace they were at their
never-ending game of saving the world. At breakfast they'd decided it was Ginger's day to be
Catwoman. Just as they reached the house, Ma came out the back door.

"Hi, guys," she said. "I'm glad you're here." She set a covered dish on the
passenger seat of the station wagon. "Ellen Greyhawk broke her arm this morning and I'm
going over to take care of the babies while she goes to the clinic."

Jace drew a deep breath. "Ma, can we...?"

"Jace, you're in charge until your pa comes in. Keep the littles out of mischief.
There's roast beef and ham in the 'fridge for lunch. I'll be home by five." She climbed into
the car and pulled the door shut.

"Ma!" Jace could just see all his plans falling apart. "Wait a minute!"

She rolled down the window, looking impatient. "Denny, you help your brother,
now. I've got to go. They're waiting for me." The engine caught.

"Can we go for a ride, Ma?" At least he wanted permission to take the horses out,
a rule Pa was immovable about.

"As long as you take the littles," she said as she drove out the driveway.

Well, hell!
Jace kicked at a big piece of gravel. They might as well stay
home. Who wanted an adventure with three little kids tagging along?

* * * *

"Well, can you get a message to him?" Madeline drummed her fingers on her
desk. She hated to make personal calls from the office, but this was an emergency.

Even more, she hated to be calling Erik. The less contact with him she had, the
better she'd like it.

Liar! She would give her right arm--and maybe more than that of herself--to have
him here right now.

She needed someone to reassure her that her entire life wasn't falling to pieces.
Twice today someone had asked her how come Jethro had changed his mind. The first time
it happened, she'd simply denied it. The second, she'd been just as quick with her denial,
but she'd wondered. Was there something she didn't know?

Calling the Z-Bar-Z hadn't helped. The hand who answered the phone didn't know
when Jethro would be back from his fishing trip. He'd decided to stay an extra week. He
might call home sometime this week, but if he didn't, no one would worry too much. They
were gettin' the hay in, and everything else was goin' just fine.

Ordinarily she wouldn't have worried. Jethro's summer fishing trips to the Three
Forks area of Montana were as much of a local institution as the Social. It was the only
vacation he ever took. But did his extended absence this summer mean he was avoiding
questions? Had he really decided the money Charlie and his sleazy buddies were offering
was more important than his word?

She couldn't believe it. Unless his wife had talked him into it. That woman could
convince a bat to fly at high noon, when she wanted something bad enough.

"Tell him Jethro Zenger may have changed his mind. Tell him...."

She worried the tip of her nose. "Just tell Erik to call me, as soon as possible."
Reciting her home and office numbers, she listened as the voice on the other end made it
clear she didn't have the faintest idea of what she was doing. With a sigh, Madeline hung
up, certain Erik would get a garbled message, if he got one at all.

Should she leave a message on his answering machine at his apartment? No. That
wouldn't do any good. By the time he got back to Garnet Falls, it would be too late.

The rest of the afternoon dragged by. Erik didn't call, nor did he that evening. If
only she had some idea of where he was, but she wasn't even sure whether it was
Minnesota or Wisconsin. Never having been east of the Rocky Mountains, she found all
those states in the middle of the country confusingly alike.

Thunder grumbled across the sky as she was preparing for bed. Another summer
storm. They'd been lucky to get through the Fourth without one, considering how they
seemed to blow up more often than not when the weather got this hot. She lay awake,
listening, and wondering if what she planned to do was right.

She really believed it would be best for the twins, but would it be best for her? For
Erik?

* * * *

Once free of the courtroom, Erik tried to call his Washington office. Getting a
busy signal, he then dialed Madeline's home number. No answer. Nor was there one at the
Zenger Ranch. Jethro must still be fishing. Frustrated he dialed Wils Bates's number.

An answering machine thanked him for calling and invited him to leave a
message. He did. It was short, succinct, and profane.

One more try. He waited through several rings before Walt Thomlinson answered.
After giving a quick rundown on the progress of the hearing, Erik asked about
messages.

"Let me see." Walt always took the message log home at night, since so many
NWT staff people were in the field all day. "Erik? There doesn't seem to be anything
here."

"Nothing?" He couldn't believe that he'd had no calls. That hadn't happened in his
memory.

"Not a thing." Erik could almost hear him grimace. "I even had to show the temp
who came in today how to use the phone."

"Damn it, Walt, you'd think we could get competent help!" Erik said, irritated out
of all proportion and aware he was being unreasonable. "Well, if anything was really
important, they'll call back, I guess."

"How'd the hearing go today?" Walt said. "Will you be done this week?"

"I doubt it, considering tomorrow's Friday." He realized he was snarling. "Hey,
look, Walt. Don't mind me. I've got some things going on in my life right now that aren't a
hell of a lot of fun."

"Well, let me know if I can help."

"Thanks, but I'm going to have to straighten this out by myself," Erik told him,
appreciating his associate's concern. "Look, I'll check my answering machine. Maybe
she...they called there." Impatiently he cut the connection and dialed his apartment in
Garnet Falls.

The only message on the tape was from Charlie Bittenbusch. The last person in
the world he wanted to speak to.

* * * *

Ginger lay in her sleeping bag, wishing she was home in her own bed instead of
high in the mountains. The thunder stalked closer, only a slow count of eight between the
last flash and its sound. That meant it was just a little over a mile away--close enough to be
dangerous.

She pulled the bag over her head, knowing it wouldn't shut out the sound, but
feeling a little more secure when she couldn't see the bright flashes, even through her
closed eyelids.

It wouldn't be so bad if they were in the line shack. It sat in a sheltering stand of
pine, all taller than it was. Lightning wouldn't strike it, according to what Uncle Jon had
told her. It only struck the highest point around.

She hoped the tree under which they slept wasn't the tallest one in this particular
piece of forest.

This was one of Jace's ideas she wished she hadn't been so ready to go along with.
She couldn't believe she'd even helped him convince Denny that they should sleep out
under the stars, instead of staying in the line shack and going on in the morning.

It had sounded like such a great idea, to go see Wounded Bear Meadow before
they built a parking lot on it. That was what Uncle Jon said developers did--after they built
a fancy hotel people had to drive their cars to. She didn't think that was so bad. When she
grew up she was going to have lots of cars. She'd need a parking lot all her own. And a
race track, for her Indy racer.

If there was a road up to Wounded Bear Meadow, she wouldn't be lying here
waiting to be struck by lightning.

Tomorrow morning, she'd tell Jace she wanted to go home. Abby already
did--she'd cried a little before she went to sleep--and Kyle kept worrying about what Uncle Jon
would do to them. He hated to be scolded, especially the way Uncle Jon did, with eyes that
looked right into you and a voice that made you want to shiver.

The thunder was closer. She just knew it was.

Wounded Bear Meadow might be the neatest place in the whole world, but she'd
trade in a minute for her own bed back in town.

Madeline was in bed, wondering if tonight she would finally get some sleep, when
the phone rang. "The kids went up to the old line shack this morning," Jon said. "It looks
like they decided to stay all night." He sounded as if the children did something like this
every week.

"Oh, Jon, did they go alone?"

"Well, yes, but I wouldn't worry if I was you. Jace may still be a kid, but he's a
sensible, responsible kid. And you know Denny--he's real protective of the littles."

Madeline couldn't believe Jon was being so calm about the situation. "What
if...?"

Jon said, "I figure it'll do 'em good to stay up there. Maybe they'll get cold and
hungry enough that they won't pull a fool stunt like this again."

Her belly clenched. "But-- but--"

"Hey, Linnie, it's okay. They'll be safe up there, and in the morning, when I go up
and get 'em, they'll wish they'd spent the night in their own little beds."

She was partially soothed by the amusement in his voice. "So you're going to
teach them about suffering the consequences of their actions the hard way?" She didn't
approve of her babies having quite this strong a lesson, but if Jon wasn't worried, she'd try
not to be.

But what if...? Her vision wavered and her knees gave way. She was only dimly
aware of the cool oak floor as she collapsed onto it.
NO! Not my children! Jesse is
gone. Isn't that enough?

"Linnie, listen to me!" Jon's voice came from the receiver, now lying on the floor
beside her. "The kids are all right. Do you hear me?"

She picked up the phone, put it back to her ear with a trembling hand. "I'll be there
as soon as I can," she said, struggling to make her still-rubbery legs obey.

"You're not goin' anywhere but to bed, you hear?" His voice slowed her panic.
"Come first light, I'll be riding up there to bring 'em down. And it'll be a long time before
any of 'em wants to go on an adventure again."

"Jon, what if--" She didn't know what horrible situation she feared, but she knew
her children were in danger. Terrible, life-threatening danger.

"Linnie, you just listen to me for a minute, okay? I'll admit right now Jace wasn't
too bright, taking the littles off like this, but I guarantee he's takin' good care of them. Do
you believe he'd ever deliberately put them into danger? Any of them?"

Madeline had to deny the possibility. Both Jace and Denny were good boys,
mature and responsible for their ages. She allowed herself to be convinced that the only
danger facing her children was a mild discomfort. "And if I know the boys," Jon said,
"they'll have taken plenty of food. They might get a little cold, though, because we brought
the blankets down to be washed and haven't taken them back up to the line shack
again."

"But they're so little," she protested, her fright almost reduced to apprehension.
"What if they get scared, all alone up there?"

"Then they'll not be so ready to go along with Jace next time," Jon said. "You
know those three littles will do anything he suggests."

Yes, she knew. More than once she'd felt another hundred hairs go white when
Ginger or Kyle related one of their adventures, all of them courtesy of Jace's fertile
imagination. "I don't like it," she said, not yet willing to share Jon's confidence that a night
alone in the mountains would be good for her babies.

"Linnie, if I thought for a minute that those kids were in any danger at all, I'd ride
up there tonight, but I don't. I'll be on the trail at first light, and they'll be home in time for
lunch."

She drew a shaky breath. "Promise?"

"I promise. And they'll all be eatin' standing up," he said.

Madeline didn't feel like laughing, but she couldn't help a smile. "Be my guest."
Jon had never laid a hand on any of the children, although he'd often threatened to. She had
a hunch that there had been times Denny, at least, would have far rather had a spanking
than some of the more novel punishments Jon assigned. It had taken him much of last
summer to reduce a fallen cottonwood to firewood.

With a few more words of reassurance, Jon said good night. "I'll call you when I
get 'em back down," he told her. "Probably along about noon."

He hung up, and Madeline was alone with her fears. No amount of telling herself
the children were perfectly safe worked. Her fertile imagination painted picture after
picture of disaster, and she lay awake, tense and exhausted, unable to still her thoughts or
relax her body.

How could she sleep when her children were alone in the mountains? Every
coyote's call, every rustle of a night creature would bring them to full and terrified
wakefulness.

Sometime in the night thunder rumbled, far off in the mountains. It pulled
Madeline out of a restless, nightmare-filled doze. Ginger, absolutely fearless about
everything else, was terrified of thunder and lightning.

* * * *

Toward morning it began to rain. Curiously Madeline was soothed by the gentle
patter on her roof and she finally slept soundly. That was why, when the phone rang at six
twenty-seven, she practically jumped out of her skin. She hit the alarm clock with her usual
groping slap, but the ringing continued until she came alive enough to realize it was the
phone.