Chapter Six

Although less than a quarter mile from the house to the barn, Pearl drove the Carryall that morning to cart flower sprays from the funeral, instead of her usual walk. As she drove back home and parked in the garage beside her ‘53 deep red Willys Jeep, her mind troubled, she replayed the incidents surrounding necklace and the Champ Runcie family walkout. She prayed for each person affected. For salvation. For truth to be revealed.

So intent on this newest Champ controversy, she didn’t notice right away something amiss as she entered the house. Then she nearly slipped on utensils scattered on the kitchen floor. “What the blazes…?”

The house looked like a helicopter flew through it. Several holes gaped in the walls. Cracks marred the dining room windows. Cushions, drawers, and papers scattered everywhere. The antique roll-top desk had fallen face front. In her bedroom, mattresses from the high oak bed, made by Polly Eng’s local Chinese ancestors before the turn of the century, were slashed and tossed.

How could this happen without anyone at the barn hearing?

And why tear up an old house?

She began to suspect a vengeful Champ when she heard a rustle behind her. Before she could turn, a rough shove toppled her as she flailed to keep her footing. Someone scuffled across the floor, the front door slammed, and she heard yells. She crawled to the door in wincing pain and peered out.

A man in baggy overalls and another in orange prison suit rushed for the bunkhouse. Shouts, glass breaking, and soon Ginny’s Jaguar careened like a movie stunt over her lawn, tumbling a barrel of purple petunias. The red car staggered full throttle down her driveway with Paunch and Blue in full chase, barking in fury like hounds after a prey. Scat leaped a foot, hit the grass running, and did a frantic run up the Camperdown Elm.

Pearl managed a shaky rise to her feet, rubbed her shoulders and legs, and limped to the garage. “I may be an old, crippled up woman, but while I still have breath…” She backed out with a squeal of tires though doubts assailed her. She should go for help. It’s dumb to take such a risk. “But it will be too late to catch them.” She slapped the steering wheel. “They can’t get away with this.”

Adrenalin high, she booted the floorboard and passed around Paunch and Blue. She raced after the Jaguar and cut them off on the right as they tried to turn down Cahill Crossing. They sideswiped her and she gave it right back. They swerved down Stroud Ranch Road and crossed Runcie Road toward Bottle Lake and Bullfrog Meadow. A dead-end. Nothing but clogged up dead brush and trees.

The Jaguar made a complete U-turn.

One of the men leaped out and tried to get her to stop.

How dumb can he be?

She rushed him and he jumped out of the way. The Jaguar driver rammed a blockade sideways behind her. The other man banged on her window. She throttled the Carryall into reverse. Oh, no, what am I doing to Ginny’s car?

She slammed into the Jaguar. It flipped around and roared past her. The two cars raced down the road. Then Pearl watched in horror as the Jaguar crashed into a stand of cottonwoods. She braked to a stop and waited. When she saw no movement from the bashed Jaguar, she backed up beside it. She rolled her window down and hollered, “Are you okay?”

An arm reached inside and grabbed for her steering wheel. She shot into reverse and dragged the man until he finally let go, collapsed on the ground.

Paunch and Blue yapped behind them and rushed toward her. She got out, opened the door for them, and they hopped in the Carryall. Before she could close the door, the man who had been the Jaguar driver now with bloodied and bruised face pushed her in the back with the dogs. He crawled into the driver’s seat and aimed a revolver at her. Pearl studied the gun’s markings. Her late husband Cole’s revolver, stolen from her house.

“How did you get out of that wreck?” Pearl thought fast about her options while she tried to calm the dogs.

“Must be the good life I’ve lived.” The man drove one-handed over to his partner and yelled at him. “Poison! Hold this gun on that crazy lady.” He motioned him to the front seat.

“You’re the one who’s crazy. Get her and the dogs out of here and let’s go. The gang’s waiting for us.”

“Not yet. She and I have a score to settle.”

~~~~

When Reba dialed 911, she got a lot more than EMTs or the law. The Cahill ranch exploded with neighbors, strangers, and assorted kids and dogs that flooded the road and converged on the front lawn. They mingled and analyzed and told Reba they wanted to be the first to “sniff around while the tracks are fresh.”

Meanwhile, they obliterated the tracks.

Reba refused to let anyone in the house except Ginny and Vincent. Seth guarded the front door in Pearl’s hickory rocking chair, his Model T parked under the Camperdown Elm. He hummed a tuneless song and carved a galloping horse from white pine.

“I’m waiting for the deputy,” she announced to the growing crowd of spectators.

“Road’s Enders are polite to a fault when it comes to private domains,” she told Ginny. “But news of a break-in is such a shock.”

“I’m so glad I locked my bedroom door,” Ginny said. “Big city habit. Found a key in one of the drawers.”

“Where is that deputy? Surely not hanging out at Lisl’s place.” Reba rang Postmistress Lisl Monty.

“The deputy’s delayed,” Lisl reported, “but he’ll be there soon.”

“How come you’re not here? There’s a full-blown tailgate party at Cahill headquarters.”

“Someone’s got to watch downtown while there are vandals and kidnappers loose. Maybe even murderers. After all, this is a government building.”

Even if it is a fourteen by fourteen shack with a flagpole. “Kidnappers? Murderers?”

“Until we know where Pearl is, we’ve got to leave all options open. By the way, Don Runcie’s on his way over too. Be sure to give him coffee. Black. No cream or sugar. But you know that. I’m nervous and just rambling.”

Don? Black coffee? She didn’t know that much about him yet. Her mind jogged to a flicker of Don and Lisl as a momentary couple, sometime that first year after he lost Marge.

Reba hung up and checked her ransacked bedroom. Chest of drawers pulled out and emptied. Clothes ripped out of the closet. She couldn’t find her jewelry box with its store of trinkets and treasures. A silver and diamond cross and chain. An amethyst ring, her February birthstone. A Reba pin in rhinestones. A thick, gold chain with small gold nuggets, a gift from Grandpa Cole. “The only gold in Road’s End ever,” he liked to tease.

So glad I wore that necklace to church. Or am I? She grimaced at the scenes it evoked. All she wanted now was peace and quiet. Not happening any time soon.

She also found missing a music box that played “Memories,” given to her by Tim Runcie.

Reba changed into jeans and a red flannel shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbow. Ginny rushed in, “My Jaguar’s gone!” They heard a distant siren and ran to the porch.

The patrol car squeezed as close to the house as it could through the maze of vehicles. Deputy Lomax pushed through the crowd and ignored their questions. “What’s missing?” he asked inside.

Reba peered around once more at the clutter. “Some food. Some of Seth’s carvings. Some jewelry. Haven’t had a chance to check everything. No big stuff.”

“How about my Jaguar?” Ginny retorted.

“Yikes! Sorry, I’m kinda flustered right now.” Reba offered her a conciliatory shrug.

Ginny scooted to the kitchen.

The deputy scribbled a flurry of notes in a small leather notebook. “Make as complete a list as you can. Check any stashes of cash. Or drugs. Prescriptions.”

Ginny burst in the dining room with a tray full of cups, teakettle, and tea bags. “Maybe they were searching for a cache of gold. I recall the legends surrounding Road’s End. Your Grandpa Cole told us some of them.”

“Maybe the deputy would prefer coffee,” Reba said.

“Oh no, he’s a full-blown tea sipper. Aren’t you, Brock?”

“Yep, when I’m on duty. Too much caffeine gives me the jitters.”

Brock? They’re on a first-name basis after two days?

The deputy snapped pictures in every trashed room. “No reason to search for tire tracks. The spectators messed up the outside crime scene. Okay, Reba, where have you been today?”

“Besides church? Up on Canyon Hill with Johnny Poe.”

“Looking for lost heifers?”

“No, just riding. Grandma, Seth and Ginny were here when I left about 5:30 a.m. I took Seth home and headed up the hill. After I returned, we went to the barn, to church. Grandma came home first and haven’t seen her since.”

After the deputy left, Reba and Ginny started cleaning.

“Where did all this stuff come from?” Ginny said.

“Hoarding and accumulating proves thrift, in Grandma’s mind.”

Clusters of trash piled in the corners of the empty dining room. Assorted sizes of boxes, stale cosmetics, fluffs of lint had been tossed out of odds and ends drawers. Reba packed unfamiliar items back into the two boxes Seth brought after his house explosion. “I don’t know all that was in here,” she muttered. Will check with Seth.

She picked up an old scratched leather bound book with worn edges and metal clasp. She opened it slightly and noticed cursive writing. A journal. Maidie’s? She tamped down the urge to do any more peeking inside. No time. And it wasn’t hers to read. Seth gave these things to Grandma.

Cash in a tin box from a kitchen cupboard amounted to $27.50. Service-for-eight antique silverware still filled the dark plum velvet lined mahogany chest. Pillow case wrapped costume jewelry tucked at the bottom of Pearl’s wardrobe closet.

“What in the world were they looking for?” Reba asked.

“They were in a hurry,” Ginny noted. “And they may have been interrupted in the act.”

“By Grandma.” Reba shivered as she wondered what happened. She said a quick prayer.

“You know what else is missing? The dogs aren’t howling at all that company.”

“Surely they didn’t steal Paunch and Blue. Oh! I’ve got somewhere else to look.” Reba rushed back into Pearl’s bedroom. “Grandpa Cole’s revolver and shotgun are gone. They’re armed.”

“Or maybe your grandma grabbed them.”

“I sure hope we can find grandma soon. And your Jaguar.”

“I noticed the deputy didn’t make any inquiries. I’ve got an idea.” Ginny ran out on the porch. “Has anyone seen my car today? Rides like an ocean breeze. Fancy wheels. White convertible top. Pair of white seagulls hanging from the mirror. A Don’t Even Think About Smoking sign on the dash. Has anyone seen it?”

“What model?” someone shouted.

“It’s a Jaguar.”

“Lady, that’s all you had to say. Don’t need no other detail in these parts,” Tucker with the red striped suspenders said.

“Could be I seen it.” Jesse Whitlow, Sue Ann’s younger brother, displayed a distinct drawl copied from his Georgia native dad. “What’s the engine like?”

“Fast,” Ginny replied.

Jesse’s older brother, Rod, spit out, “5.3 liter V12.”

Jesse whistled. “I’d sure like to see it.”

The crowd buzzed with possible sighting stories.

“Could of sworn I spied it parked near the McKane cabin last night,” Tucker claimed. Several others nodded.

Reba peered at Ginny’s crimson face and clamped mouth. Finally, Ginny wrenched back her shoulders. “Where could someone hide a Jaguar around here?”

“If you don’t care how banged up the rig gets, there are a dozen cow trails and gully washers that crisscross the sections,” Seth told her. “Goat paths once provided the only access in or out of here. But those thieves may be long gone by now.”

“The only decent road from our place to anywhere goes straight to Main Street,” Reba said. “Or Highway 95.”

A six-year-old Younger boy raced past them carrying Scat and wearing an Earth First!ers Not Welcome t-shirt. At least the cat’s not missing.

Reba and Ginny slipped back inside the house. Reba peered out the kitchen window as Ginny scouted the kitchen for more coffee, tea, chocolate and cider, enough for a mob. Norden edged through the crowd in a Harley-Davidson motorcycle, a bright burnt orange skull cap on his head. Abel sat behind him. “Jace’s little brother doesn’t look anything like him.”

“Neither does Norden.”

“There are kids in the corral messing with the horses. I’d better go check.” Reba squeezed past Seth in the rocking chair.

Out in the yard, Ursula Younger offered roast beef or peanut butter jelly sandwiches and pop for a donation. Baby Aaric was slung in a backpack. A hand printed sign announced: “Proceeds for Maidie Fortress Bell.”

Reba reached the corral as William and Katlyn Runcie tried to saddle one of Pearl’s mares. She searched for Tim or Sue Anne as Don rushed over, shooing them away. They sprinted to a gathering of kids who watched one of the Younger boys show off a toy model Navy F-14 Tomcat with missiles and swing wings that changed form in mid-flight, a replica from the recent Gulf War. Abel hung back, but peered around the taller kids with interest.

Reba lent a wary gaze toward Don. He yanked off his cowboy hat. “Dad’s not going to pursue the matter. For now.” He held out his hand. “Peace?”

So soon? Just like that? Thank you, Lord. She grabbed his hand with a grateful smile and reinstalled her Dating Don List.

Tim sprinted by toward his Dodge truck with Buckhead Whitlow.

“Where you going?” Don asked.

“Joe Bosch reported signs of some sort of altercation beyond the corner of Stroud and Runcie Road. Going to investigate.”

“I’m coming with you,” Don said.

Reba waved to Ginny at the window and rushed for her pickup.

Tim tried to veer out of the driveway, but got hemmed on all sides. Norden hopped on his motorcycle with Abel and led a parade route to the road. Many in the crowd jumped into vehicles and on horses and tried to unscramble the mess to follow them. Reba noticed Jace’s silver Volvo among them. Where had he been hiding? At least not with Ginny.

Ginny suddenly appeared, slinging open Reba’s passenger door and sliding in. “I’m not sure you want to be here. I’m afraid this is going to turn into a crash derby.”

“It’s my car that’s missing.”

“Where’s Vincent?”

“Beatrice Mathwig cornered him with talk about Idaho opal mines. Said her late husband had an interest in them. He took her to his hotel room to get some brochures.”

“What?”

“She also needed to get back to manage the front desk. He told me we should call him as soon as we hear anything about Pearl. And that he has the necklace under lock and key.”

Tim stood on his running board shouting orders as Buckhead steered from the passenger side. Don sat in the back. Reba tried to wave everyone else away as Jace and Tim both turned at the road crossing.

Reba moaned. “They must have guessed we’re following a lead on the robbery, but they’ll only mess things up, like they’ve already done.”

“Turn right. Now!” Ginny ordered.

Reba sped right at Cahill Crossing.

“Maybe the stragglers will follow.”

Reba looked behind. “Yes!” She prayed for safety as she careened down Cahill Crossing and onto Main Street.

“Turn left, quick!”

Reba veered into the alley between the Steak House and Leather Shop, then left again to Runcie-Cahill Cutoff. She paused for the last of the line of rigs to turn on Main and doubled back to Bullfrog Avenue.

“No one behind me. Hope I can catch up with the guys.”

Soon they saw Buckhead jump out of Tim’s stopped pickup. Jace roared around them and kept going. Reba slowed and Buckhead banged on her window. She rolled it down. “You two get in Tim’s truck and hand me your keys. Don and I will get the deputy and try to foil the fire chasers.”

They piled out and Buckhead with Don in tow swerved her pickup back to town.

Ginny got in the back before Reba could. She had to hop in the front. She didn’t look at Tim but kept her attention on the road ahead.

“Afternoon,” Tim said, his head stiff, voice cold. “That was all Buckhead’s idea.”

He and Reba sat like stones as he tried to catch up with Jace. She hadn’t been this close to him since before his wedding. She risked a quick side-glance. Sun-streaked dark hair, black Converse sneakers, and jeans. He’d always been a conflicting combination of sloppy cool and politeness to his elders, tongue-tied with beautiful girls, and sensitive to nerds. Like her. The cool. The cute but not quite pretty.

She tried not to dwell on his shirt sleeves rolled up, revealing a rumple of tanned arm muscles. Thank God Ginny is here. A chaperone. A go-between to bridge what might have been and what is. She noticed in the mirror he didn’t try to control his lifelong lazy left eye as it fluttered and blinked. Otherwise, he projected control and bravado. She forced her mouth to move. “Your dad says you and Mr. Whitlow want to try some beefalo.”

Tim offered a sound close to a growl. “Heifers shouldn’t tromp where they don’t belong.”

Was he talking cows? Or me and his dad? “Bulls need watching too,” she retorted.

They nearly collided with the silver Volvo parked in the middle of the hole-punched, rain-puddle road. Jace had scrunched branches and sticks next to the tires.

Tim rolled down his window.

Jace made a face like a cat caught in a mouser. “No four-wheel drive.”

Tim got out and pulled several boards from his truck bed. He yanked away the sticks and crammed the boards instead. The Volvo peeled out. Then bogged again.

“If you’ll leave the boards with me, I’ll keep working on it. No need to hold you up,” Jace offered.

“You’re in our way,” Tim said.

Jace backed away and Tim squeezed the Dodge by.

“I’ll stay with Jace,” Ginny said.

No. Please, Reba mouthed.

But Ginny turned her back and fussed with the boards.

With great reluctance, Reba eased into Tim’s truck. Awkward. But Tim seemed relaxed, his mood much improved. “Hey, let’s call a truce, just for today. Let bygones be bygones.” He hummed a catchy tune and beat his fingers against the steering wheel.

Madonna? Elvis? She couldn’t figure out which one. “Slow down,” she suggested. “Might be other signs along the road.”

He offered a quick smile. “Hey, I think you’re right.”

What? The sudden friendliness. Because Ginny was gone? Or because Jace had trouble? That’s it. He’s jealous of Jace. Reba felt like humming a tune too.

When she noticed deep ruts that looked recent, they got out to study them.

Tim pointed as he interpreted. “Two vehicles traveled side by side. The tires swerved back and forth like fighting racers.”

“Look at the severed branches and shaved bushes too.”

They got back in and wound around broken glass, bumper parts, and pieces of tire. They followed the war zone trash scattered across the forest floor. Around a bend a tortured sculpture of mangled red metal in the cottonwoods and tamaracks. “Oh, no! Ginny’s Jaguar.”

Tim pulled to a stop. “Be careful. There may be someone in there.”

Reba pried open her door and crept to the wreck. “Looks empty to me.” Blood stained the white leather upholstery of the once sleek convertible.

They searched the crash scene, then waited for the Volvo and any others to appear.

“Hey, Reba Mae, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you for a long time.”

“Oh?” Every nerve in her body tensed. She had her questions too.

“How come you didn’t want to date me anymore? I thought we had a good thing going.” He hit his forehead. “How dumb. Of course it doesn’t matter now.”

“Um, yeah. I think getting engaged and married tends to cut off a relationship. At least, it should. It did. It was you, not me, that broke us up.”

“I mean, before that. Sue Anne told me your grandma gave her the go-ahead to ask me out to that dance. I figured you were trying to send a message. You wanted out. It knocked me so bad, I did stupid stuff.”

Reba felt like she’d been suddenly doused with an icy shower and flaming fire all at once. Her hands trembled. Numbness began at her feet and started to rise. Grandma.Did.What? She couldn’t think. She didn’t know what to say. Her gut hurt.

“You didn’t know?” Tim reached out and touched her shoulder. She felt the old buzz she used to get. She determined not to cry. She wouldn’t make a scene. Like throw herself at Tim and beg him to take her back. Or run into the forest and never return.

Calm yourself, girl.

The Volvo roared down the road and joined them. Reba tried to enter into Ginny’s dismay over the Jaguar. After her friend’s initial shock, she circled around the crunched car. “I’m sure it’s totaled.”

Tim and Jace agreed.

“You got good insurance?” Jace asked.

“Yes, but what a hassle. Sorry, Reba Mae, looks like you’ll be stuck with me longer than I thought.” She peered again at her friend’s face. “You’re white as cow’s milk. Why? It’s my car that’s messed up, not yours.”

She took a quick breath. “I’m fine. I just…feel so bad for you, Ginny. It was such a beautiful car.” Ginny nodded and turned back to the wreckage. Thank you, Lord. Thank you, thank you.

Soon the deputy, Don, and Buckhead arrived. “We took the long route,” Buckhead explained. “Had to shake off the Younger boy and his friends, as well as Tucker, and would you believe, the Mathwig Triplets.”

Deputy Lomax cut off the side road from intruders and possible traffic and took photos of the crash. “We can determine a match from the blood samples, but it will take time. Now I’ll get tracks and evidence. Will also have to call in County Sheriff Ed Goode and some other backups on this one.”

Ginny whipped out her camera. “For insurance and posterity.”

At Reba’s urging, they spread out and searched a wider area, but found no bodies or other vehicles. In particular, not Grandma Pearl’s Carryall.

“I wonder if the other rig carried the occupants away?” Tim speculated to the deputy.

Jace joined them. “But the tracks go no farther than the smashup.”

“No one has reported autos coming from this road,” said the deputy.

“That’s because most everyone’s been at our place,” Reba reminded him. “And even there, we didn’t hear anything at the barn while the robbery took place. Not even the Jaguar driving away.”

“We had drama of our own going on,” Ginny reminded her.

Reba avoided looking at Don.

“Don, Tim, and Jace. They’re all here,” Ginny whispered in her ear.

My past. Maybe my present. But of the future?

Tim and Don hurried away and shortly returned with a trailer from the Runcie Ranch. The guys winched the Jaguar on the trailer.

“I’ll ride with you,” Ginny said to Tim. “I’ve got to make some calls and find out what to do.”

In a quick moment aside, Tim squeezed close to Reba. “Today. It was great. Even though we got kicked out of church.”

“You didn’t get kicked out.” But I got bumped out of your life. Why?

“Can I hitch a ride?” Don asked.

“Of course.” Reba cheered again at the sudden turn, her and Don doing okay.

As Tim, Ginny, and the Jaguar rocked and rolled down the trail, Reba hiked to her pickup, full of fired up emotions. Riled about Tim and what he revealed. Shaken by the day’s emotional ups and downs. Worry about Grandma Pearl. As Don piled in, she turned the key and heard a familiar putt-putt and sputter. She crawled out of the cab as Jace looked back from his Volvo.

“What’s the matter?” he said.

“Out of gas.”

He studied under the hood and below the chassis. “I think you have a leak. You two can go with me. I won’t bite.”

“Yeah, but will your car run any better?”

“Bad news, it’s somewhat of a lemon purchase. It breaks down. Good news, I know how to fix it.”

Don got in the back. Reba slid in the front and watched Jace write in a notebook. “Making a report?”

“Sort of. I’m chronicling my adventures in Road’s End. How’s the back today?”

She tried a stretch. “A little better. Gauze and bandages and pain meds help. I never thanked you properly for the cream. Fortunately, I was wearing one of my sturdy flannel shirts. What do I owe you?”

He looked up with a scowl. “Nothing, of course. Just being a neighbor.” He closed the notebook and tossed it on the backseat next to Don. “You ever do anything but work? Like having fun?”

Her freckles felt inflamed. “The kind of work I do is fun.”

“Yep, I agree to that,” Don said.

He got his crinkly grin back. “I understand. The gun and tackle shop has been the most fun thing I’ve ever done. Besides the days when I thought I could make a difference in the world.”

“Where did Norden and Abel go? I thought they were with you.”

“I told Norden to take him home. Safer there.” He looked down. She detected something. Maybe a hint of sorrow.

Reba appreciated pulling her thoughts away from Tim’s devastating revelation. She tried to focus on Jace, to relax in his presence. The tidy mustache and straight eyebrows contrasted with the curls on top. Four buttons of his yellow cotton shirt undone, she steeled herself against the ripple of attraction. She sure didn’t need that. Not now. What a day. She stifled a chuckle. Now Don was the chaperon.

“You and Ginny seem to be friendly.” She noted another shadow on his face. His eyes shielded something private.

“She’s a great gal. And did you observe green streaks on that Jaguar’s red paint?”

“I noticed,” Don said.

Grandma’s car. Her stomach hurt again. This time with a new twist. Worried over her safety mixed with anxiety in confronting her.

Jace broke the silence. “You’re awfully quiet. Tim got your tongue?”

“Of course not. Why would you say that?” Especially in front of Don, of all people. What must he be thinking back there? She closed her eyes. “I’m sorry. I do have a lot on my mind.”

“Hey, I understand. All too well.”

When they arrived at the Cahill homestead, Jace said, “Get your gas. I’ll take you to your pickup. You’ll be able to drive it home, but you’d better get that leak fixed.”

“Mighty neighborly of you, but Don can do that for me.” She hoped she didn’t sound too snippy.

Don slipped an arm around her shoulder. “I can fix leaks.”

Everyone had returned home. Reba noticed the Model T gone too. She must check on Seth. Hope he’s okay.

As she pulled up into Don’s cab with the gas can, Reba realized something else was missing today. That is, someone. As a rule, Champ would be in the middle of a scene like this. The whole community involved. A chance to be the big leader. An opening to take charge. Yet, he was totally MIA.

Kinda nice.

Now to rescue my pesky pickup. And find Grandma.