All the Old Lions (A Thea Barlow Mystery, Book One) Read online

  I must have blacked out, for when next I became aware of anything, I was lying motionless, sucking in air with labored breaths. The ache in my drawn back shoulders had become a constant, a permanent fact of existence that could almost be dismissed while I basked in the comfort of Max’s voice. Max! I jerked to alertness.

  It wasn’t an hallucination, the voices were real, reverberating down into the hole as if from a distance.

  “Where is she, Enright?” It was Max, harsh and angry, one step from explosion.

  “How should I know?” Jim answered.

  “Look, you bastard, I followed your tracks from where Thea parked our truck. I want to know what happened.”

  “Our pickup. Isn’t that cozy. She your whore now? Get your hands off me.” Icy contempt laced Jim’s voice. Nothing would more easily put Max in a rage.

  I kicked frantically, trying to make a noise that could be heard, but the murky darkness swallowed my pounding and moaning. I went back to rubbing my ankle against the heel of my shoe. Urgency did the trick, and my heel popped free from the canvas shoe. I flopped and kicked and shook it free, then began to work on the other foot.

  Jim’s fury seemed to have been shaken from him. “All right, all right,” he said. “I did see her. She went to get something from the house and found Potts in there. Scared her to death for some reason. I ran him off and she left.”

  “How did she leave, Enright, how? The pickup’s still there.”

  “I should know? She was standing by the truck when I left. I thought she went back to town.”

  “Thought, hell! You left her like that with Potts around?”

  No Max, no, I thought. Please don’t fight. Look for me. But I heard the sharp crack of fist against bone and feared the explosion was on.

  I had to warn him; Max didn’t realize how dangerous Jim was.

  Jim’s voice broke into a shocking shrillness. “Hit me again, Holman, and you won’t live to find her.”

  Again I tried to shout, but the resulting muffled groan choked me into silence. If only I could get rid of the gag. I scraped my cheeks against the rough ground and tossed my head. The knot slid tantalizingly up and down, but was not loose enough to be pried from my open mouth.

  None of my thuds against the earthen floor could compete with the sounds that filtered down to my ears from outside. Fist struck against flesh, followed by pain-filled explosions of breath. My eyes remained glued to the opening about ten feet above me, but not a flicker of shadow, or movement, crossed the scrap of light.

  “What happened to her?” Max grunted in barely audible gasps. “Tell me.”

  Jim’s answer, “Never,” was followed by a sickening fleshy crack, and then another. Then dead silence.

  For a breathless second I listened. Nothing. Once more I began threshing and flailing, until suddenly, my other shoe flew off and one foot slid out of the binding. I lurched to my feet and collapsed against the wall, heaving for air. The faint sound of an engine sputtered into life and moved away. Tears stung my eyes. Max had left me.

  The stupid oaf! A rush of fury washed out fear and a rising tide of panic. Stupid macho posing! If he’d taken time to look around he might possibly have found me, but no! He and Jim had been aching for a showdown. Well, it was a cinch no one was going to rescue me. If I wanted out of this damned hole I’d have to do it myself.

  Filled with fire—or false courage—whatever the body manufactures from senseless rage, I cautiously began to walk off the parameters of my prison. The wall face was rocky and uneven, but by keeping close to it, and testing each step, I fought the terror of a yawning drop-off lurking somewhere in the darkness. It soon became more difficult to keep my shoulder to the wall, and took me a moment to realize it was because the wall had taken a decidedly outward slant, and another moment to recognize the advantage that offered.

  If this portion of the pit sloped outwards all the way to the opening, instead of being upright, I might be able to climb, or scootch, my way up. The uneven surface provided plenty of footholds. If my hands hadn’t been tied behind my back, it would have been a relatively simple scramble. First I tried a sideways approach, thinking I could use my hands, even behind my back, to some advantage. I rose the first small distance from the ground, found another foothold and slid up another measure, but then was unable to move my inside leg into position again. Making an attempt rocked me off balance and I fell to the ground. Pain shot through my shoulders and ribs, but the little success spurred me on. I got back on my feet and attacked the wall again. Head on, this time, lying flat on my belly against the surface, legs splayed. By turning my torso, one of my hands could try for a slight amount of leverage. Slight was right. Mostly my hands flopped uselessly, but my chin proved surprisingly agile.

  The pain was unthinkable. Dirt, rocks and roots scraped away layers of flesh and cloth with each sliding move. Yet every inch gained urged me further on.

  Another push on a foothold sent a tearing pain along my cheek. The reflexive twist of my head nearly sent me plummeting, but the root that tore my cheek caught the gag and held me clinging to my perch. When my heart stopped pounding, I realized that the momentary weight of my body had pulled the cloth gag away from the corners of my mouth. I set to work ducking, bobbing, grimacing, trying to pull the sodden mass over my bottom lip, and chin, until finally it fell limply around my neck. Instantly, my tongue and jaws pushed the repulsive wad of stuffing from my mouth. With it came everything I’d eaten since the beginning of time. The revolting stuff slid down my neck and front. I didn’t care.

  I rested my cheek on the earthen wall as if it were a satin pillow and filled my lungs with great gulps of glorious air. With my mouth freed, everything seemed easier. Even the fear of falling was gone. If I fell, I thought blithely, I’d just start all over again. But did I dare try a scream? Was anybody up there to hear? More importantly: where was Jim?

  The opening glimmered just a short way above my head. With my goal so close, I didn’t want to risk the chance of discovery by the wrong person. A few more pushes and I could inspect the rim. To the left of a rough slab of rock was a smooth, stable looking, weedy edge held together with a tangle of roots. Could I inch my way over there, or would I have to try exiting over the rock slab? I debated the angles involved, weighed the pros and cons, knowing all the while that nothing short of an operable elevator would change my direction. I was just passing time, afraid of what awaited me outside. My chin rested on a clump of sod, the toes of one foot scrabbled for a precarious hold, while the arch of the other foot rested on something rather sharp, braced for a painful push off. Well, I thought, I couldn’t just hang there forever.

  The next move put my head through the opening. Light forced my eyes shut. I clung with my chin on the slightly jutting edge of rock while my left foot searched desperately for purchase. My arms floundered helplessly behind me, an aching mass of electrified numbness. I pushed with my toes and scraped my neck and breast painfully across the rock’s edge. Another hoist gouged flesh from ribs and hip bones, until I was far enough out to flop over onto the rim’s edge. Out! At least my center of gravity was clear, and I needn’t worry about falling back in.

  I tried to wriggle further, but couldn’t move. I lay exhausted, breathing in short sharp gasps that were more like sobs. Max, I thought, eyes still closed against the sun. In a minute I’d scoot free, jump to my feet and go find Max.

  My cheek rested against the hot stone and I squinted, letting the light gradually sift through my lashes until I could open my eyes and see. Fences, animals. In a flash, I recognized the back of Enright’s barn and the maze of corrals. Awkwardly, I flopped my head over, scraping my chin across the rock until my other cheek rested on the stone. My stomach lurched. Jim sat propped against a pile of blackened logs, chin on chest and hands dangling between his knees.

  Unconscious? I couldn’t tell. I tried to pull myself forward, working to get my right knee up on the pit’s grassy edge.

  “Don’t move,” Jim sa
id, without looking up. The harsh voice rasped along my spine like a saw.

  I stopped immediately, unable to take my eyes from his still form. He was about twenty feet away, with a sagging barbed wire fence between us. From what I could see of his bowed head, he was in pretty bad shape. A large cut across his forehead had bled freely, and still oozed between clots.

  In fact, I thought, spirits quickening, he looked completely done in. Besides, to get to me, he’d have to cross the fence. I moved discreetly, inching my knee up on the rim beside the rock. My other foot, still dangling down in the pit, scrabbled frantically for a firm hold.

  “I said, don’t move.” Jim snapped.

  I obeyed, but not as willingly this time. I left my knee on the rim, ready for the final push out when the chance came. “Please Jim,” I croaked. My tongue felt too big for my mouth and the words sounded blurred and muzzy. “Let me get my legs out. It hurts.”

  He raised his head. The full view of his face was horrible, streaked with blood, the upper lip swollen into a malignant grimace. Mr. Hyde revealed.

  He chuckled as if he’d read my thoughts and found them amusing. “Go ahead,” he said, “but I’m just going to shove you in again. Only this time, I’ll get the rocks thrown in so you’ll stay put.” He jerked his head, indicating something behind me.

  At his first word I shoved and wiggled, flopping around like a gaffed fish until I could roll away from the hole. Once free, I got a better look at my surroundings. A three-strand barbed-wire fence circled the area encompassing the gaping hole and a natural nest of reddish rocks that rose behind it. It would be an easy task to pry, or roll a boulder either into the hole or over its opening. I shivered and scooted further away, both from Jim and his hell hole.

  I leaned against a rock, and we eyed each other warily, gathering strength. Except I didn’t seem to have any left to gather. It was incredibly hot. Sweat licked across my abraded skin with pinpricks of pain. My mouth felt like a wool blanket and I couldn’t seem to generate enough saliva to swallow. My resources were drained. Every nerve ending whanged with the agony of my pulled-back shoulders. Yet, somehow I had to prepare for another attack. Stave off disaster. No way was I going back in that hole.

  Dazed with pain, I stared at my legs and wondered if they’d work when I needed them. My jeans were caked with sooty grime and my bare feet were dark with blood and dirt. I looked worse than Jim. A bra strap had broken and my camp shirt was a thing of the past, the buttons torn off and one side hanging in shreds. Every inch of exposed, and unexposed, skin was scraped raw and bleeding.

  I groaned. “Why can’t we just stop, Jim? It’s so silly, nobody’s really hurt—or dead yet,” I amended giddily. It seemed a sane thing to do. Reasonable. I could actually see us, dusting ourselves off, going our separate ways, everything forgiven and forgotten.

  “It’s gone too far for that, Thea. I made my move, and now I’ve got to finish it. Minnie had no business coming out here in the first place. We made good use of Lil’s land for sixty years; why should we give it up to some old woman,” he spat out the words as an epithet, “who wants to play at ranching, or would sell to any dry-farmer trash who came along with a wad of money in his pocket? But she wouldn’t take a hint. None of this would have happened if she’d just gone back to the sticks where she came from.”

  “So it was you who cut the fences, and damaged the wells to scare her off.” I couldn’t keep the contempt out of my voice. “And that nasty note left in her mailbox? I would have expected more from you.”

  “That was Cora’s work.”

  “Cora?” So Cora was mixed up in this. “What did Cora have to do with it?”

  “She didn’t want anybody but herself nosing around in the town’s history; she thought she could run Minnie off with a few threats.” He made a disparaging sound. “Then Cora saw that picture. She knew right away what it meant. She told me, but I didn’t believe her. I had to see it for myself. I still have a key to Halfway Halt, so it was easy to get in.”

  My thoughts had been so focused on survival that I found it difficult to pick up the pieces of everything that had happened before. But I remembered fast. I knew this land business wasn’t the real issue. But what had they seen in that picture of Minnie and Lil that none of the rest of us, including Minnie, herself, had caught?

  “What about that picture, Jim? Why did you steal it?”

  He ignored my question. Bracing himself against the pile of logs, he rose to his feet and flexed his arms and legs methodically, one after the other.

  I was scared. I had to keep him talking, and there was something else I had to know. “Did you kill Cora?”

  “I pushed her. She was drunk. She said she wouldn’t tell any one, but I didn’t trust her. We met out in the parking lot I wouldn’t have done anything if she hadn’t shot off her mouth.” His voice rose, gaining strength. “It was her fault. She was drunk. I just pushed her and she hit her head against the truck’s side mirror. Dropped like a rock.”

  He leaned against a fence post. When he spoke again it was in the soft cultured tones of the old Jim, the one I thought I knew.

  “I really liked you, Thea. For a while there I actually thought we might…”

  I turned him off, unable to listen to what he was saying. I knew it was only a matter of minutes before he came for me. As unobtrusively as possible, I studied the fence, my biggest obstacle. It was ill-tended, the posts knocked askew and the wires limp. In one place they sagged nearly to the ground. Could I jump it?

  Jim pushed away from the fence post, and my heart began a dull thudding. A fly buzzed lazily around my face.

  He gestured to the gaping hole, “You wanted to see the coal burnout pit. How do you like it so far?”

  I didn’t answer.

  “I’ve lost my touch. Cora and Minnie practically dropped at my feet. I didn’t have to do anything. I should have known you’d be different. But you have to go. You do see that, don’t you? I can’t back out of any of this, now.”

  I tucked my legs under me and hoped I could rise to my feet when the time came.

  He started toward me, walking slowly, stopping to stretch his neck, rub his arms, warming the muscles he planned to extend. Or maybe he just wanted to frighten me. He appeared quite confident that there would be no trouble from that quarter. He might be right, I thought grimly, but not from lack of effort.

  He had to cross the barbed wire fence; that would be my chance. And it would be a chance only if I could get to the section of the fence where the wire sagged close enough to the ground for me to get across. My heart raced and I shifted my legs, heartened by muscle twitches indicating there was some life left in them. A pulse drummed in my head. Behind me, one of my useless hands grabbed a rock. What I thought I could do with it I’ll never know, but its solid feel gave me a sense of security.

  Jim’s eyes never left my face. He stepped on the bottom strands of wire and held the top one up to duck under. When he did, I lurched to my feet and staggered into a run. I heard him laugh and within seconds his hands dropped heavily on my tortured shoulders.

  “Sorry, sweetheart. I wish there were a better way.” He twisted me around and pushed me back towards the hole. “Potts will be the perfect scapegoat for your disappearance. You made a pretty convincing case against him; even Holman will have to back me up if there’s no other evidence.”

  He grinned, pleased with himself, and leaned forward as if to nuzzle my neck. Instinctively, I jerked my head up, trying to clip him under the chin. The blow glanced off his jaw but took him by surprise. His hands dropped. I lashed out with my knees and feet, the only weapons I had. I missed his groin, but caused enough damage that he gasped and doubled over. I kicked again, wishing I wore jackboots, reveling in the chance to inflict pain rather than receive it, so intent I lost precious moments before I realized I was free.

  I turned and darted down the fence line. Without arms for balance, every rock, every pebble, was a threat; a dead branch to jump spelled immi
nent disaster. Would I be able to cross the fence? I heard his pounding feet and heavy breathing close behind, but ran on until he caught my tied hands, and yanked me to a halt.

  Pain shot through my shoulder blades and brought a shriek from my throat that ripped through the stillness like a knife through canvas. He dragged me back towards the hole, muttering words I was too terrified to hear, dragging me back to that horrible darkness.

  I struggled blindly, flailing, kicking, my head still filled with the dreadful knell of pounding feet. Then other hands seized me and threw me to the ground.

  Max!

  He twisted Jim around and landed a blow on the side of his jaw. Jim staggered, then lunged at Max, his face contorted with rage at the unsuspected attack. Momentarily stunned, I gasped for breath and tried to scoot away from their surging feet.

  Jim struck with a flurry of blows that took all of Max’s strength to meet. I watched as he fought for breath, ducking and dodging. How far had he run before jumping in two-fisted?

  I staggered to my feet. I knew I’d have to help, but my legs were about as stable as trembling reeds. Everything swam fuzzy-edged in front of me. The sound of fist against flesh and exploding breath beat against my ears.

  Max landed another blow and I felt a shocking surge of pleasure when the cut over Jim’s eye opened again and blood leaked down his face. But still he pressed, backing Max steadily.

  The hole! I tried to scream, but nothing came out. “Max,” I finally croaked, painfully trying to gather more volume. “Don’t back up. There’s a hole!”

  He surged forward like a cornered grizzly, into a raging, vicious battle. Blood flew, splattering the bleached ground with startling color. Jim flung himself sideways to dodge a knee. Something flew through the air and cartwheeled across the ground: the picture that Jim had tucked into his shirt. A crack to the jaw rocked Jim back on his heels.

  Max leapt and followed him to the ground, pummeling him relentlessly until he appeared to be senseless, then raised him by the shoulders as if to slam his head against the rocks.