Dusk settled over the mountains as C.J., Wyatt and I arrived at the nearly empty parking lot of the Coogan’s Cove picnic area. C.J. and I had spent many days fishing here, but we were usually long gone before the sun dropped. The road to the cove was narrow and winding with rock outcroppings rising along the edge of one side and steep drop-offs on the other. It wasn’t an easy drive in the daylight but became downright perilous at night.
A scattering of cars remained after a summer day of hiking and fishing. A few people would be down by the river, packing up their fishing gear. Others would be completing day hikes. Only two small groups of people used the picnic area as far as we noticed.
A family at the nearest picnic table packed the remnants of their dinner. A boy of maybe ten gripped a red Kentucky Fried Chicken bucket overflowing with debris. He managed to carry it without losing any contents to the nearest bear-proof trash can and waited for a teenaged girl. She bobbed her head, dancing to music I guessed streamed through her white earbuds, though I never understood how people enjoyed walking around with noisy Q-tips shoved in their ears all day. She rolled her eyes in response to her little brother’s pleas for help. With an exaggerated sigh, she opened the metal door and waited while he dumped the contents. Dad slipped his arm around Mom and whispered to her, the two of them giggling as they followed the kids to a shiny sedan with an overflowing luggage carrier strapped to the top. Minutes later, they left for their hotel or to complete their journey home or wherever they were headed.
At a far picnic table in a shadowy corner, a young couple kissed and groped each other. Probably high schoolers enjoying the last evenings of their summer break, they ignored their untouched and cooling food on the table, far more intent on tasting each other. They didn’t react to the arrival of a car containing three nervous men. I doubted they knew we were there at all.
After I shut off the ignition, only the sound of the ticking of the cooling engine filled the air. I glanced at my watch. “Ten minutes early.”
C.J. said, “Maybe he isn’t here yet.”
“That’s the car he was driving yesterday.” I pointed to a space occupied by an Explorer a dozen slots away in the parking lot.
Wyatt’s head swiveled as he surveyed the woods. “He would’ve wanted to get here early, familiarize himself with the area. Make sure you didn’t set him up somehow.”
C.J. groaned. “So he’s watching us.”
I pushed open the driver’s door and winced at the creak of the hinges echoing in the silence of the parking lot. The female half of the couple broke away from her partner and looked at me.
I leaned against the hood of the car, doing my best to appear braver than I felt. “Let’s get this over with.”
Together, we climbed the wood-chip-covered path to the rear of the picnic area. The young couple glared in irritation at the interruption. Apparently, they had come up for enough air to recognize this wasn’t their bedroom or the back seat of their car.
When we reached the top of the hill, the forest thickened into shadows so dense we couldn’t see if anyone waited. A small wooden sign with an arrow pointed down a dark trail weaving to the river below. We huddled and debated what to do.
I couldn’t see the tattooed man but assumed he was watching us. “His move.”
We didn’t have to wait long until a voice came from the shadows. “Who are they?”
I turned in the direction it came from but couldn’t find the source. “My friends.”
“The young one… Is that your grandson?”
Wyatt nodded but didn’t speak.
“And the big old dude. I’m guessing that’s Cody.”
C.J. replied, “Cody Joe.”
“Cody Joe? How quaint.” A twig snapped in the woods. I thought a shadow shifted, but I wasn’t sure. “Cute how you left out the Joe part. Thought maybe if I went looking for Cody, no one would realize who I was asking about?”
I could only shrug in defense. I had been protecting my friend and wasn’t ashamed about that. No sense in arguing.
“Why did all three of you come? You could’ve brought the money by yourself and not put them at risk.”
I didn’t like him thinking of risk in the same way I did. That made it all too real. It also confirmed we had made the right decision. “They wouldn’t let me.”
Wyatt spoke up. “We thought it would be safer this way.”
“For him, maybe. Not for me. And sure not for you, Grandson.”
The gurgling of the rushing water of the river had muffled our ability to pinpoint the man’s location. The metallic sound of the slide being pulled back on a pistol clanged through the woods. My heart skipped a beat. I held my breath and braced myself for a shot, but none came.
The tattooed man materialized from the shadows with a pistol held to his side. “Thought I would even the odds. Three on one didn’t seem fair.”
My bladder felt full. I wouldn’t have been surprised to feel a stream running down my leg. Fortunately, I was an old man. I only dribbled. No one noticed. “No need for a gun.”
“As long as no one does anything stupid, you’re right.”
I swallowed, trying to lubricate my throat to keep my voice from cracking, but I didn’t have any saliva.
The tattooed man motioned with his free hand to the nearby picnic table. “Put the money there and back up. If it’s all there, this’ll be over.”
The moment of truth. “I wish I could.”
His eyes narrowed, the gun clenched in one hand as the open hand slowly fell to his side. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t have it yet.”
The tattooed man stood stock still, puzzlement spreading across his face. “Why would you come without it?”
“What would you have done if I hadn’t shown up?”
“Gone to your house and killed you.”
“That was my guess. I’m trying to avoid that.” I spread my arms wide, my best “we’ve come in peace” look. I doubted it worked. “I’m getting your money back. I’ll have it tomorrow morning. As soon as it’s in my hands, I’ll drive over to Knoxville and deliver it to you. Promise.”
“Promise?” The tattooed man stared into the woods at the spot he had come from. Through gritted teeth, he said, “You promised you’d have it tonight.”
“No, actually, I didn’t.”
The man closed the distance between us in a flash and jammed his pistol against my head, the cold metal digging into his skin. “You calling me a liar?” he yelled.
I’ve always been told your life flashes before your eyes in moments like that. It didn’t for me. I only saw the potential future. The tattooed man pulling the trigger and everything being over in a flash. Wyatt leaping forward to defend me and taking the bullet instead. C.J. trying to use his bulk to wrestle the gun away and failing. I needed to calm things before any of those things happened. “No. Never. I just meant…”
“Talk fast, old man.”
“We talked to the preacher. He called the sheriff and told him to give it back.”
“The sheriff said no?”
“No! I mean yes. I mean…” Sweat ran down my back. My legs quaked. I dribbled a little more and no longer cared who noticed. “He agreed. He’s giving it back. We’re picking it up at ten tomorrow morning.”
“Why tomorrow?”
“Something about evidence lockers and chain of custody and… I don’t know. He said tomorrow.”
The tattooed man glowered, and his eyes flicked back and forth across my face as if he was trying to decide whether to believe me. Then he pushed away and screamed, “Arrrrrrrrgh!”
The young couple that had been making out jumped. With a startled glance in our direction, they gathered their loosened clothing and ran toward their car. A minute later, they peeled out of the parking lot, nearly clipping a large SUV that was entering. The tattooed man paced back and forth, talking to himself. “Tomorrow is not fast enough. I need it now. Now. I need it now. Not tomorrow. Too late. Too late. It’s not fast enough.”
The SUV parked, and two men exited. They began the climb up the hill to the river trail. Must be tourists, I thought, because you left the woods at night. You didn’t enter them. I prayed, though, that their presence might save us. The tattooed man wasn’t deterred by them because he never seemed to notice them at all. Instead, he screamed in frustration, grabbed my shirt, and pushed me flat on my back on the picnic table. I felt my head wound open up and blood trickle down. He shoved the pistol against my cheek. Spittle flew from his lips. “Why shouldn’t I just shoot all three of you right now?”
My heart pounded in my chest. I grasped for Wyatt’s words from earlier. “Because then you’d never get the money. You need us to get it.”
“But tomorrow’s not fast enough.”
“It’s all I’ve got to offer. You can’t get blood from a stone.”
“He can’t,” said the smaller of the two approaching men. “But I can.”
Wyatt gasped.
The stranger stepped in front of him and smiled. “You must be the legendary Wyatt Earp.”