Riders In The Sky Part 45

He stood for an hour, waiting.

He stood for two hours, waiting.

Only the sea, and the sky, and the thunder of the waves, the explosions, the mist, and the ragged hasp of his own breathing.

Finally there was a long deep breath, a long and slow and shuddering exhalation while his eyes closed and his shoulders slumped and his lips moved in a silent prayer he feared wouldn't be answered.

no sign, case; no sign.

it's just you, and now you know it * * * *

He raised his head slowly to face the horizon again, and for a brief moment, a flicker of an eyelid, the waves rolled instead of crested, the thunder died, and he was alone despite the people who were on the beach behind him.

"All right," he said aloud, and nodded. And sighed. "All right."

A brush of his hands over his jacket, and he made his way back to the beach. The others had already left, he could hear them ahead on the path, whispers now and muted speculation. He reached for a pine branch and missed it, reached for another and closed his fingers around it, pulling the needles off, scattering them on the ground.

Midway was empty when he reached it.

The cold wind had softened, blocked by the woodland, warmed by the sun.

He shrugged off his jacket as he entered the house, dropped it over the newel post before walking into the living room. He stood in front of the window, hands behind his back. Lisse, John, and the British woman were on the couch; the woman with the veil sat in the armchair, the two girls flanking her. Cora sat on the floor at John's feet. Reed looked around, hurried into the kitchen, and brought back a towel, and a chair which he set in front of Casey.

"You're scaring the kids," he whispered. "It'd be better if you sat, you know?"

Casey stared at him, finally understood, and nodded. Once he was seated, pa.s.sing the towel over his hair and face, and Reed was on the floor beside Cora, he looked at Beatrice Harp and said, gently, "Tell me."

And she did, saying, "His name was Trey Falkirk, and unlike you, he didn't make it."

When the telling was over, he leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs, hands loosely clasped between his knees. He stared at the floor for a while, glanced up only when Cora got to her feet and left the room, trying to be as quiet as she could. Then he turned his attention to Jude Levin and her daughters.

He kept his voice soft, but the girls flinched anyway: "I'll bet you've asked yourself more times than you can count why this has had to happen to you."

Those big dark eyes over the veil filled instantly with tears as Jude nodded.

"John's asked himself the same thing, I know," he told her. "So have I." He looked at the floor again. "I wish I could-"

"Wait."

It was Cora.

She stood under the entrance arch, hands behind her back. He frowned puzzlement-she seemed unaccountably nervous, didn't settle down even when Reed scrambled over to join her. He, however, had a smile on his face.

He would have scolded them for interrupting, but he knew they had something important to say, and it was equally clear they'd been rehearsing it while he'd been gone.

So he gave them a one-sided smile and said, "Cora, I have never, ever known you to be without words." A mock glare. "This had better be good."

Cora brought her hands around to the front.

He sat up sharply, lips working but no sound.

In her hands were a pair of black western boots, as clean and polished as the day he'd first brought them home, over fifteen years ago.

She swallowed. "Reverend Chisholm ..." She swallowed again. "Reverend Chisholm, if you're... oh, h.e.l.l... if-"

"I'll say it," Reed told her softly.

"No!" An apologetic smile. "No." She licked her lips and swallowed again. "If you're going to... to tell us things we don't want to hear ... if we're ..."

He saw the tears and rose slowly to his full height, from the corner of his vision seeing the girls edge closer to their mother, seeing Lisse fumble for and take John's hand and squeeze it tightly. He stepped over to Cora and took the boots from her, inhaled the scent of fresh polish and old leather, and smiled wondering if it was possible he could love two people more than these two, right now.

"It's got to be right," she said in a small voice, not Cora's voice at all. "You know what I mean. It's got to be right."

He saw the two Coras in her face then, the ones he used to know-the one who was raised on abuse and disdain, cowering a little, terrified of being wrong ... and the one who tried not to give a d.a.m.n about anything, especially herself.

He laid a finger on her cheek, brushed away a tear, put a hand on Reed's shoulder, and squeezed it, once.

It was difficult to say the words they wanted to hear, more difficult because he never believed he'd ever hear himself say them again: "You two are right. I think ... I think I'd better go upstairs and change."

Cora put a hand to her mouth and said, "Oh ..." and couldn't say any more.

He smiled gently and winked at them, pushed between them, and said, "Cora, while I'm gone, why don't you have a talk with Starshine there. Maybe you two can exchange the names of the butchers who attacked your hair."

He didn't look back as he climbed the stairs, but he heard Cora laughing, and Lisse sighing, and the girl named Starshine demanding to know what he was talking about, what's the matter with her hair?

At the top of the stairs he turned automatically toward the bedroom, took a step, and stopped.

Do it right, he told himself; if you're going to do it, you pig-headed oaf, then you'd d.a.m.n well better do it right.

6.

Cribbs paced his office, alternating between fear and righteous anger. "What the h.e.l.l do you mean, they aren't gone yet?" he yelled at the speakerphone on his desk.

"I mean, they ain't left yet," Cutler said, his voice sounding well-hollow.

"You talk to them?"

"No, I ain't talked to them. How can I talk to them? You want me to drive right over, let half the world know I know where they are and who they are?"

Cribbs waved his arms. "G.o.dd.a.m.nit, Norville, you're the d.a.m.n owner of that place. All you want to do is see who's squatting there, you idiot."

"Idiot? Me? Who's the one come up with these jokers in the first place?"

Cribbs took in a breath, puffed his cheeks, and let the air out slowly. He took a position at the window and looked down at Midway, the cars and the people. On the horizon he could see smears of clouds as that storm made its way closer.

"All right," he said. "All right, Norville, no sense us going at each other's throats here. The thing we need to know is, why haven't they left?"

"You ask them. I'm not going anywhere near them."

The mayor shook his head. "We got to know, Norville. Even I can't stop Oakman from doing something dumb if he knows they're still around." He slammed a fist onto the desk. "d.a.m.n! Good Lord, why the h.e.l.l can't anything go like we want it to? Why the h.e.l.l does this have to happen now, of all times."

"You want me to answer that, Jasper?"

"Oh, shut up, Norville, that was a rhetorical question." He shook his head again. "Tell you the truth, in a perfect world, I'd sic those b.a.s.t.a.r.ds on Freck, the son of a b.i.t.c.h can't even shoot a man in the back, for G.o.d's sake."

"Freck's an idiot."

"Now that I can agree on. And I own up, it's my fault, I thought I could count on him. I-" He stopped, looked at the street again, and grinned. "Norville, you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"It'll cost us extra."

"Who cares? What's another million here or there, what with what we've already got?"

"So who's gonna talk to them. Not me. I've already talked to them once, on the phone, and I heard what they done. I ain't going anywhere near them, and that's something else you can take to the bank."

"Don't worry," Cribbs said. "I got an idea, kill a couple of birds with a couple stones. Talk to you later."

He broke the connection and couldn't stop smiling, couldn't stop chuckling.

Jesus, Jasper, he thought; why the h.e.l.l aren't you ruling the world yet?

Ronnie Hull stood at the counter in the Camoret Weekly's office and swore as she punched a number into her cell phone. It would be the fifth attempt, and she hoped this time she'd gotten it right. The b.u.t.tons were so small she kept hitting the wrong ones, the last time getting some music store in Hilton Head, for G.o.d's sake.

Daddy was going to hit the ceiling when he saw the next bill.

"Rick," she said in relief when the connection was made, "it's me, Ronnie."

"Hey, Ron, what's up? You coming up, keep me company?"

"Very funny. Look, I can't talk long. Can you see all the streets from up there? With those binoculars?"

"Most of them, yeah. Trees get in the way, but yeah, most of them." > A distant sound of wind; she hoped he was all right up there.

"Would you please look for Daddy's car if you can?"

"What's the matter?"

"I'm not sure. He's been p.i.s.sy all day, and stormed out of here a little while ago, saying if no one's going to help him with his story, then he'd get it himself."

"Sorry, I don't get it."

"Rick, he doesn't think those guys from last night have left the island. He thinks they're still here, and he's going to try to find them.''

Ben Pellier hung up the bar's wall phone and rested his forehead against it, tapping the floor with one heel.

Alma bustled out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on her ap.r.o.n. "Ben, I can't find the-what's wrong?"

He closed his eyes, pressed a fist to the wall.

"That was Hector. It's ... it's Senior."

"Oh, dear Lord, no."

"About twenty minutes ago."

"What about Junior?"

"Gonna be all right so far. Touch and go."

He could hear her weeping, could hear Pegleg scratching at something at the bottom of his cage, could hear the front door open and Billy Freck say, "Come on, Pellier, give it over, I ain't got all day."

Verna wrinkled her nose, looked to her left at the sheriffs closed door. Trying to hold her breath without seeming to, she hit the intercom b.u.t.ton.

"Sheriff?"

"I told you not to bother me."

"It's Neely, Sheriff. He's here at my desk, and he says he knows where those men are, the ones who shot the Raybourns."

"He what?" Cribbs yelled.

Oakman winced and pulled the receiver away from his eai for a second. "He says he knows where those killers are staying. Thought you ought to know, you being the mayor and all."

"He's a drunk, throw him in a cell."

"Can't do that, sir."

"What, you're not making enough money already?"

"Deputy Dewitt's already taken his statement."