deliberately in danger

8/6/2019 Deliberately in Danger

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Chapter 1

These days Al Trainer is a cop from a no-

where little place in central Colorado

called Wide Spotpopulation 1047. At

43 in spite of bad knees from his college

basketball days and a screaming need for

bifocals he doesnt think hes middle-

aged and bristles at the idea of slowing

down.

For twenty years, he worked undercover

for the CIA going places and doing things

that nightmares still occasionally bring

back to life. When Al reached retirement

age three years ago, he left that life

behind; turned his back on it allthe dark

underbelly, the deviousness, the

arguments with his conscience, the

violent deaths hed been responsible for;

all of it. Taking the job in Wide Spot washis idea of washing two decades of blood

off his hands. A chance to do something

good in a place where the nightmares

could fade.

The small Colorado town east of TroutPass on US 24 has been his haven. Hes

been there for the last three years and

knows everyone in town. And everyone

believes they know him. When they see


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him they see a man theyve come to rely

on for fair, if somewhat unique,

management of the towns peace. He

hardly cared that he was hired by thetown council in a desperate attempt to

avoid Park County taking over the their

law enforcement offices or that theyd

have hired Attila the Hun if hed been in

the right place at the right time. In that

climate, Als credentials were welcomed.

Those false documents were the last

contact hed had with his real identity and

his former employers. Thereafter he

became, in thought, word, action and

reaction, Albert Trainer, deputy-sheriff of

Wide Spot, Colorado.

A bit over six feet tall, during holidays

when the town spreads out its best table

cloth for its most prominent bachelor, he

can top two hundred thirty pounds. His

only concession to intentional exercise is

a morning run. This he does in absoluteseclusion.


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Chapter 2

Weekends in a small town bring out therowdies just like any larger city. This

makes weekends the busy season for law

enforcement. Occasionally though, there

would be a Tuesday through Thursday

when circumstances dampened the towns

wild side enough that Al could get away.

He spends this time alone and away from

Wide-Spot. Way away.

About three hours northeast of Trout

Creek Pass a valley created by the slopes

of Devils Head and Buffalo Peaks cuts

across Pike National Forest. The South

Platte River winds through the full length

of the valley accompanied by a state

highway. At a sharp curve between

Trumbull and Sedalia, where the highway

leaves the rivers edge, a small sign points

west up a single-lane stretch of blacktoptoward Colorado's Front Range section of

the Rockies. A few miles up this narrow,

tortured, little-used ribbon of asphalt

whats left of a town huddles in the

afternoon shadow of the mountains.

The thirty hardy souls who call this

remnant of the mining hey-days home,

live clustered around a rough wooden

structure. Built in the 1940s to replace a


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burned-out trading post, the isolated

decaying structure now houses what

passes for the local convenience store. At

its front these days, a weathered sign thathad once proudly announced beer and

bait now offers its merchandise in a

dilapidated whisper.

The inside of the rustic store is lit by a

single fluorescent light suspended over

the cash register. The farther reaches and

back corners not lit by the flickering tube,

set in perpetual shadow. Banks of

shelves, covered with cracking linoleum,

line the rough wooden walls. The

sagging shelves are stocked to the edge

with goods. Items displayed decades ago

and never sold are crowded behind newer

merchandise. One front corner window is

dedicated to hardware; opposite the

warped front door, another window

displays hiking gear. In the disarray and

under years of dust, everything fromaspirin to zippers can be found.

If a hiker were determined to spend an

afternoon or seclude himself for a few

quiet days, he might drive along the

blacktop past the old store and on westtoward the mountain. He would find that

the asphalt surface dwindled to a gravel

track that ended at an up-slope clearing.

Here, the mountains geography would


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force him to trade his vehicle for hiking

boots.

Somewhere up in elevation from theroads end, a creek emerges from a

jumble of cracked boulders and fallen

trees. This secluded wilderness clearing

is known to locals as the Tumbles. A

location not marked on any map;

nevertheless it serves as a landmark; the

point at which the climb to an abandoned

fire tower and picnic spot becomes easy.

To reach it, a hiker would first follow a

daunting trail. Beautiful, quiet and

unspoiled, but daunting. The terrain

makes the trip painful for failing joints

and aging muscles; still, this unspoiled

inhospitable spot is Al Trainers get-

away.

When his beat-up pickup truck would

nose up to the beer and bait sign it would

usually be on a Tuesday afternoon. Mostdays were long enough to drive up and

arrive at the old convenience store before

dark. He never needed much, but

stopping for a few supplies and beer had

become a habit.

From behind the warped makeshift

counter, the proprietor, a middle-aged

woman, would welcome him. In all the

months hed been stopping by, theyd


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never exchanged names; just pleasantries,

local news and upcoming weather

conditions. Conversation of a more

personal nature seemed inappropriate.

Following her own instincts, the

proprietor suspected he might be some

kind of government man, but she never

asked. And Al never offered much in the

way of detail. She knew what brand of

beer he preferred and what meager

supplies hed want. She knew exactly

what shed need to assemble to fill his

order as soon as she heard the old truck

rattling up the blacktop. She could have

had it ready to hurry him on his way. But

she never didhurry him.

When he came in, hed always taken off

his sunglasses and hat before the screen

door had time to slap closed behind him.

Who does that anymore, she always

thought. Men rarely even took their hatsoff to eat much less when they came

inside. Shed always smiled at his good

manners. Hed smile back and nod and

run down his list. That was more or less

the extent of any communication.

That simple routine was predictable. The

comfort of it wasnt lost on a man whose

workday activity ranged from dull

idleness to screaming sirens. There was


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no in between. From slowing down

speeders to breaking up broken-bottle

fights between drunks, from protecting

private and public property to wipingspittle off his face, he rode the peaks and

valleys of activity at a steady pace.

Beneath it all, he negotiated the personal

maze created by his own hidden history,

small-town politics and friends. To a man

used to dealing with a town councils

strong vocal personalities, weekend

drunks and arrogant speeders, the quiet

unhurried leisure of the remote

convenience store suited Al.

Here, there were no intractable superiors,

no curious friends and no budding threats.

Just the natural elements of a wilderness

too rough to interest novice campers or

day hikers. That he couldnt fish in the

Tumbles was a small inconvenience. He

slept stretched out in the sun, watched the

sky and listened to the clash of water andstone and the hum of a land that vibrated

to his own internal chord. Here, he used

the order of nature to re-order, mend and

strengthen the inner tools that kept his

new life in balance.


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Chapter 3

When the screen door slammed behind Althis time, a mental alarm sounded. An

oversized knapsack lay on the floor.

Around it, items from the high dusty

shelves were scattered in disarray. On the

end of the always-cluttered counter in an

old plastic ashtray, a cigarette burned.

Hed never known the woman to smoke,

but then how well did he really know her.

The items scattered on the bare plank

floor spoke of a careless frustrated search.

She never searched for anything; she

knew exactly where every outdated,

useless, dust wrapped item was to be

found.

Behind the counter, the woman who had

never failed to greet him with a smile and

leaned forward, her face twisted in pain.

Im closing. I cant help you. Comeback tomorrow.

Stopped by years of experience he would

never shed, he took in her appearance

before he spoke and, sensing irregularity,

he side stepped into the shadows. Whenhe didnt turn to leave, the woman drew

back from the counter with a stumbling

jerk. In her place, the bulky figure of a

man rose up twisting her arm behind her


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as he did. Taller than the proprietor by

more than a foot, the only other attribute

Al noticed was the .45 in his hand.

We got ourselves a real woodsman; a

genuine Davy Crockett. The man

gloated. Robin, get in here. He

shouted over his shoulder toward the rear

of the store.

Al, Trainer corrected him. Im Al.

The man mocked him. You look like a

Davy Crockett to me.

A slender figure stepped through the

stores back door. Ah Marty. Now

youve done it." Robin's tone carried a

reluctance not lost on Al. "Why couldnt

we just leave guns out of it?

Marty snorted. Dont start that again.

He released the woman with a twist thatforced her to her knees. Without taking

his eyes off Al, the man retrieved a small

pistol from his jacket pocket and tossed it

over the womans head to Robin. What

about her car?

No good, Marty. Robin said. Her car

wont start, battery I think. And ours is

definitely done for.


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Al stepped out of the shadow. You want

a ride? He was going to offer his keys.

The woman spoke quickly, running herwords together. They tried to rob a bank

up in Denver.

What ever else Marty was, when he raised

his gun butt to strike the woman, Al

recognized a bully. A short tempered,

easily frustrated bullywith a gun.

Moving forward to distract Marty, Al

calmly acknowledged the frantic

information. That was up in Denver, this

is here. You want my keys? Tanks full

of gas. Al reached into his pocket with

two fingers and slowly pulled out a set of

keys. As he reached to place them on the

counter, he dropped them. Bending to

retrieve them before Martys weapon

could follow its target, he slipped a small

knife out of his jeans pocket into his boottop then stood slowly while gently

placing the keys on the counter.

Marty, lets take it and go. Robin

pleaded. We aint really done nothin

bad yet. We can be long gone and theyllquit lookin for us in a couple a days.

Shut up! The cops are already on our

tails. I got a better idea.


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Robins voice was unsteady. I cut the

phone lines out back and cells dont work

here. Lets just go. The town is empty,only these two have seen us and it'll take

them a couple of hours to hike to the

highway for help. We can be gone before

anyone around here can get word out.

Al liked Robin's thinking. He'd sized up

the burly figure behind the counter and

doubted that he could take him. Or if he

should even try. Looking for options, he

wondered if the woman would react

quickly enough to disarm Robin if he did

try the big man.

"You've screwed up enough for one day.

We're gonna do this my way." Marty

growled at his accomplice.

Al saw options galore available to end

this, but they all depended on the womanand he didnt know her well enough to

even hazard how or whether shed react in

kind and in time. So, erring on the side of

caution, he waited to see how things

played out.

Yanked to her feet and shoved around the

counter, the woman stumbled into Al.

Get some of that chain you got over


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there and a couple of them padlocks.

Marty ordered her.

Al felt a few of those many optionsslipping away.

Robin, make sure he dont have nothin

useful on him then chain em together.

No talkin about it; just do it, damn it.

Just, for once, do what I tell ya.

The .45 never left Als position. He stood

obediently while Robin padlocked one

end of a length of chain around his waist

and the other end around the woman. His

options were reduced to a negligible few

by that length of chain. Still, there had to

be a way. He just didnt know what it

was.

When Robin pocketed the padlock keys,

Marty didn't seem to notice. Al had

already sensed the friction between thetwo would-be bank robbers and mentally

nodded his approval. If he couldn't have

them, Robin was his choice to be the

keeper of the keys.

You two. Marty waved the captivestoward the open knapsack. Fix that up

just in case more things don't go right.

He glared at Robin. The big planner over

there, he thumbed in his partners


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direction, probably screwed up the

timing on the pick up too.

Robin squirmed under Martys accusingeye. Al caught the reaction and stored it

away for future use.

Put one of them little tents in there, I

aint for sleepin under the stars. It aint

natural.

On his end of the chain, Al kept quiet and

stayed out of the womans way. She

assembled an assortment of items

designed more to meet Martys inner-city

ideas about camping than practical

overnight requirements. When she

reached to include a hammer, Al smiled.

When Marty forced it out of the knapsack

at gunpoint, the woman balked. How are

you going to set up a tent without a

hammer?

Marty was ready. Use a rock! What,

you think Im gonna let you put a weapon

in there, now forget the hammer. Were

in the woods right? Get a rock. The

woman shrugged and, glancing at Al, put

the hammer aside. It was becoming clearwhat might have gone wrong with the

bank robbery.


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With the knapsack packed, strapped and

ready, Marty tossed a roll of masking tape

at Al. You Davy Crockett, tape her eyes

shut. He ordered.

Linked by five feet of chain, blindfolding

the woman reduced their options again.

This time to nil. Another elusive plan,

never fully formed, had to be abandoned.

Marty fanned them into action. Bring

it. He pointed the ever-visible .45 at the

well-stocked knapsack. Get in the

truck.

I dont know about this, Marty. Why

dont we just leave them here. Robin

whined. This is kidnapping and we

never talked about kidnapping.

Marty growled. Shut the hell up or so

help me, Ill Taller than six feet,

Marty towered over his partner and flexedhis huge fist. They all expected the short-

tempered man to strike his partner. When

he swung, Robin crouched to grab the

knapsack and avoided being struck. A

history of violence had taught Robin

when to duck.


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Chapter 4

Three of them crammed into the cab.Robin and the over-stuffed knapsack rode

in the pickup bed. Out of Martys sight,

Al tugged at the chain coiled on the seat

between him and the woman and tested

the padlock at her waist.

Which way? Al asked, buying time as

idea after idea flicked across his thinking

only to be cast aside as too dangerous or

too complicated.

Up there, Marty waved a huge hand

toward the mountain that rose at the end

of blacktop. Where this road ends,

theres supposed to be a trail along a ridge

someplace that leads to an abandoned fire

tower. Get us there before noon

tomorrow and youre free to go. Mess

with me or screw up the timing and,Marty held the gun to the womans

temple for emphasis. Al guessed they

were being met by someone who was

unwilling to risk any delay. Someone

offering them a get away.

What makes you think I know how to

get there from here? Ive heard there are

half a dozen fire towers in these


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mountains. Al played for time waiting

for an idea, any kind of idea, to form.

You wouldnt be here if you didnt knowthe area. Martys short fuse was

fastened to his trigger finger.

Behind the wheel, Al continued to stall.

Wait a minute. You think I know this

area? I was lost looking for directions.

Al told a sensible lie.

She knew you. When she saw you drive

up, I could tell shed seen you before. Lie

to me again and This time, Marty

buried the muzzle of his gun in the

womans thigh. Do we understand each

other?

Okay, okay. I guess we just pick the

straightest route. Als agreement was a

concession to reality and a quest for time.

Time to work up a plan that would givehim control of the situation. Only then

could he hope to keep both of them alive.

If he wanted to reach the correct fire

tower by truck and in record time, he

could go back to the state highway, headsouth for a couple of miles and then take

the county road through the National

Forest to the service road that led directly

to it. Coming in by highway from the


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south, the trip would be about fifty miles

and they would arrive at Martys meeting

place not only before noon tomorrow but

before nightfall today. Thats what Alwould have doneif he trusted Marty to

free them unharmed.

He didnt.

Daring to chance that neither of their

captors really knew the area, Al put that

plan away as too simple, too straight

forward, too limiting and too quick to end

their lives. Marty had no reason to leave

them alive to report to the police. Theyd

never live to walk away from the fire

tower, and confined in the cab of the truck

for fifty miles there were not enough

opportunities for a couple of people

linked by a chain to escape a serious

threat from a .45.

Impatient to be away from the store,Marty threatened and growled. Get

going. Youre on the clock ya know.

Al turned the key and backed out of the

dirt parking lot. The truck took to the

blacktop. Tires squealing and enginerevving he headed away from the store,

toward the mountain, toward the place

where the blacktop ended and the gravel

track began.


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In the mountains, distance in the air is not

a measure of the time on the ground

particularly when elevation is involved.The fire tower was an easy stroll above

the Tumbles clearing, but the route Al

planned on taking as far as the clearing

would be a demanding hike. They would

be picking their way along an overgrown

trail obscured by crumbling rock. Al

needed time to think; to plan. Somewhere

along this route, he was certain something

would come to him. At least the slow

tedious travel as far as the Tumbles would

give him time to think. In hopes of

saving their lives, he was going to

deliberately put them in danger. It didnt

make sense, but it was the best he could

come up with. When the blacktop ended

and the truck thumped onto the gravel

road, Al went into action.

Not far up this road was the spot where heusually parked his truck to began his

wandering. Dust rolled into the air

behind the truck. Skidding from side to

side, gravel scattered giving the

impression of speed. On a curve he knew

all too well, he yanked the steering wheelto the left and jammed on the brakes. The

trucks rear skidded sideways and off into

a section of washed-out shoulder.


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What the hell are you doing? Martys

reaction time wasnt as sharp as Al

anticipated and Robin, tossed about in the

truck bed, was even slower to react.

The first time Al slid into this wash-out,

hed gentled the truck out of it and back

on the road promising himself to slow

down on this curve in the future. This

time, he gunned the engine encouraging

the rear tires to spin tossing up dirt and

gravel, digging in deeper.

Marty was yelling, Robin was screaming,

the woman was hanging onto the

dashboard, Al was smiling.

The rear of the truck began to sink tilting

the vehicle to one side. Al mashed his

wrist into the door panel then pushed the

door open. Tumbling out, he pulled at the

chain, dragging the woman after him. But

for the woman's blindfold, Al might havedived into the forest. But, running wasnt

his plannot yet anyhow.

By the time Robin rolled out of the tilted

truck bed, weapon at the ready, Al was

brushing gravel off the woman giving nohint of having intentionally trashed his

own truck.


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Marty crawled across the seat and spilled

out the drivers side door. He lay

sprawled in the gravel only a moment

before the truck tipped gently onto itsside. Its tires spinning without traction,

the old Ford slowly slid into the shallow

wash.


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Chapter 5

In ditching the truck and setting themafoot, Al bought time by slowing their

escape and made himself indispensable to

Marty by intentionally breaking his wrist

compass. Nothing else had been

accomplished. But he got what he

wanted. Now, he would have the control

he needed.

Marty waved the .45, cowing the captives,

reasserting himself. If you want her

dead Davy Crockett, I can arrange it. I

need you, I dont need her.

Al was ready. We should be able to get

closer to the trail I think you want by

going this way. Waving his arm in the

general direction of the mountainside, Al

worked at being agreeable. Lying is an

art practiced best by careful application.Al had practiced carefully for a long time.

He was good at it. And he was pretty sure

by now that Marty didnt know the area.

We dont need the truck. Al offered an

embarrassed grin. You were right. Alittle groveling might put Marty at ease.

I do know a little about the area. We can

still be up there in plenty of time. Theres

a shortcut not far from here. We can go


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straight up to the tower by following a

stream I know, but its rough going

around a recent landslide. Al layered lie

upon hope upon prayer and spliced inconfusing non-details trusting that the

woman would know to keep quiet.

Marty only had one real choice. He was

forced to accept Als plan in place of his

own. Robin, get down there, get the

pack.

He loomed over his captives dark and

threatening. I warned you about lyin to

me The bully jerked his head toward

the woman.

Al stepped between the bully and his

target. We need to get moving. You

want to keep score or you want to get out

of here?

The bully shoved Al aside and vented hisimpatience on Robin. Get a move on,

were sittin ducks here.

Martys frail partner struggle up the ditch

bank dragging the over-stuffed knapsack

by its straps. Not for the first time, Alcaught a look pass between the two that

suggested they were not allied by mutual

concern. Robin wasnt here by choice,

and made no attempt to conceal the fact.


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You, Martys index finger thrust at Als

face for emphasis, lost the truck, so you

can carry the pack. The angry mankicked at the stuffed knapsack and caught

his accomplice in the shin. Without a

gram of concern for the injury, Marty

ignored Robins pain.

Al pulled the pack toward him with a

show of outward obedience. Then he

tested the control hed sacrificed his truck

to gain. You know, wed make better

time if she could see where she was

going. He wanted the blindfolding tape

removed.

Martys short temper took over. "Robin

whines, now you gonna whine too. Shut

the hell up. Go!"

The pistol waved in the womans

direction was sufficient. Al shoulderedthe knapsack and took the lead. With the

woman's hand in his, he hoped to

overcome any pull on the chain and

steady her blind stumbling. Progress

along the gravel road was steady and in a

direction that satisfied Marty. A directionAl selected at a pace he selected. Not

fast, just steady. Slowly, the distance

between the captives and their kidnappers


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stretched into a distance allowing for

cloaked conversation.

Al spoke to his feet concealing the factthat he was talking, trusting that the

woman would hear and understand the

need for quiet. You know, this could

become ugly. Can you handle it?

She didnt answer but he noticed that she

dropped his hand and her faltering steps

steadied easing the tug on the chain

between them.

Youre a risk taker arent you? She

kept her voice low and in it Al heard no

trembling trace of fear.

He nodded; he wasnt the only risk taker.

Risk is the price we'll pay to take

advantage of an opportunity. Al hissed.

I need to know what youre going to do

when time comes.

For several steps, she didnt answer him.

When she did, it wasnt what Al expected.

I was a nurse; killing isnt in my nature.

Ive never so much as hit anyone even inanger. I dont like guns; dont even hunt.

Well once I hit a bear on the nose; that

was fear. I don't know if I could take a

life. Any life. Even these.


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The trace of hesitation in her voice was

what separated people who had done the

kind of work Al had once done from therest of the population. When the time

came, he suspected he would be on his

own with the addition of her safety to

consider. He had only a short time to

prepare a civilian to do the things it had

taken training and experience to prepare

him for. It shouldn't come to that. If it

does, I need to know that youre in a

hundred percent.

Blindfolded?

Im working on that.

Can you work faster? She smiled in his

direction.

Al changed the subject. What the hell is

in this pack? He shifted the unfamiliarweight and gritted his teeth.

Stuff Marty requiredand a few things

we might need.

The path Al selected narrowed into anovergrown trail as the climb up-slope

began in earnest. The air thinned as they

gained altitude and cooled as the sun

moved toward setting. Killing time, Al


27/67

often detoured off the path through brush

and around boulders adding time and

distance to the hike. When the obscure

trail curved sharply around an outcrop ofboulders, the climb became steeper.

From here to the Tumbles, they would

gain almost five hundred feet in elevation.

This was hiking neither bank robber

appeared prepared for.

Al took another chance on himself. Its

getting dark and shes going to fall and

take me with her, then where will you be?

Whats the risk in removing the blindfold

now?

Marty studied his prisoner and his guide;

the graying man in the dingy jacket and

the lined face of the woman in old jeans.

Of all the mistakes the arrogant bully had

made that day, the next one would cost

him dearly. He made the mistake of

taking his captives to be ineffective asopponents. He would come to regret that

assumptionabout both of them. Robin

mumbled something behind Marty that Al

couldnt hear.

Marty barked. All right. But the chainstays.

Convinced that Robin would be their slim

chance at salvation if or when they


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reached the fire tower, Al agreed to

accept the removal of the womans

blindfold and ignore the chain without

fuss. Drawing the woman to within armsreach, he went to work on the

blindfolding tape.

He needed her calm and alert. Whats

your name? He asked. I dont think I

ever knew it.

Ruth. Ruth OConnor.

Al. Trainer. A couple of mountain folks

like us should to be able to handle a

couple of city kids like these. Dont you

think?

With the blindfolding tape pulled free of

her face, Ruth scanned their surroundings.

Al watched her take in the path ahead, the

rocks around them and saw her turn in the

general direction hed selected. Relieved,he was convinced that she knew exactly

where she was.

Marty missed her expression of

recognition. Get moving. He ordered.

Hiking is one thing; gaining elevation is

quite another. Al struggled to conceal the

pain in his knees. If he weakened, he'd

lose the edge he'd gained when he took


29/67

the lead and he needed to be the one

choosing the path. As long as his

leadership remained unquestioned, he was

confident that they would survive. Hisconfidence was based on years of

shepherding covert teams in and out of

danger but confidence wasnt the only

thing Al would need to survive in the

mountains of Colorado. With an

untrained woman as his only ally, he

would need blind obedience and total

cooperation.

Careful not to be seen, Ruth tugged at the

chain for Als attention and spoke in time

with the sound of their steps. Youre

headed for the Tumbles arent you?

Yeah. Ive got a plan. In truth, what he

had wasnt a plan; it was little more than

an idea, but he saw no sense in scaring

her with honesty.

If you let me lead, I can show you an

easier trail for bad knees that would

probably put us there long before dark.

I dont want to get there before dark. I

want to arrive just at dark. They arentlikely to let us stop before then. If we

arrive too soon, theyll make us go on to

the fire tower. Then he thought to add.


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And theres nothing wrong with my

knees.

Her muted response to his obvious lie wasa less than ladylike snort. But she was

right about his knees. And there was a

shorter path. Normally when Al was

hiking, shorter was better. They could

have reached the Tumbles in half an hour,

but it would still have been light when

they arrived and Als plan needed it to be

dark. So dark that their captors wouldnt

know where they were. So dark they

couldnt see the fire tower that would be

just above them. Hiking distance was the

only way he could manage to time their

arrival just right.

If you took the lead, theyd notice. It

might be better if they think yourewell

youre... If they thought she was

helpless, all the better. Still, Als

experience had taught him not tounderestimate others.

Helpless? She understood his intent.

Yeah. Al frowned at a notion he hoped

wasnt true. He was likely going to needall the help he could get and it looked like

a small hidden pocket knife and a middle-

aged woman were going to be the best he

could do. Behind or beside him, the


31/67

womans step never faltered. There was

no longer any drag on the chain at Als

waist. His earlier fear that shed lag

behind was proving false.


32/67

Chapter 6

On the mountainside, there was nolingering dusk. The sun disappeared

leaving the trees and brush in deep

shadow. The sound of water clashing

against rock ahead of them told the

captives where they were. It didnt tell

Robin or Marty anything. A moment

later the four of them stepped into the

small clearing where Al had spent dozens

of hours. The timing was perfect.

Carefully formed plans seldom worked,

but this time Al was delighted. He

dropped the bulky knapsack and toppled

over beside it pulling the woman down

next to him.

Before Marty could threaten, Al ramped

his temper up to full throttle. If youre

going to shoot us, go ahead. Youll be atthe tower a couple of hours after daylight

tomorrow. Im not going any farther in

the dark. Id just as soon you shoot me

here and now as to stumble onto a snake

or a walk into a bear in the dark. So, he

waved his approval at the pistol, have atit.


33/67

Bears forage twenty hours a day this

time of year. Ruth offered the fact to

support Als wild notion.

Bears? Marty cringed.

Al shrugged, but he heard fear in the

bullys voice.

Marty, perpetually angry, kicked at the

pack.

Do you want me to set up the tent for

you? Al was pretty sure that a

condescending tone would prod Marty

into action. As he suspected, the arrogant

bullys reaction followed suit.

You think I cant do it? He growled in

the shadow of an obscene gesture

exercised for Als benefit.

Al hung his head to hide a smile.

Establishing a make-shift camp by

lantern-light quickly became something

of a circus. Martys ego had suffered

through the afternoon hike with each step

he was forced to take as a follower.Attempting to erect the tent without help

was nothing short of useless bravado, his

way of recovering lost dignity. In truth,


34/67

his wilderness skills fell short of even

Als low opinion.

Martys efforts were a show. Hisaudience sat on a bed of pine needles

leaning comfortably against a fallen tree.

With an offer of bottled water Robin took

a seat next to them. Ill by any standard,

one shin bruised to the bone, Al took

secret note of the fact that Martys

accomplice was exhausted by the hike.

From the shadows, the three of them

watched Marty struggle with the small

tent Al had carried with the knapsack.

Pitching a tent by lantern light would be a

chore for someone who knew how. For

Marty, novice woodsman that he

obviously was, in the shadows, the

difficult became impossible. For Al,

Martys antics began to firm up an

otherwise flimsy plan. He laughed,

daring to point at the frustrated man.

An angry man and a gun make a

dangerous combination but when Al had a

plan, he acted. He might have acted more

cautiously, but that wouldnt have been

Al. He ignored the weapon and laughed.He would have laughed at anything Marty

did. The idea was to laugh at Marty. And

Al laughed, pointing at Martys confusion

over the tent.


35/67

You think its so funny. Marty

chambered a round five inches from Als

nose. You put it up. Marty bit off thecommand ramming the gun into Als

chest. A bullys way of regaining lost

dignity.

Al apologized, humbled himself and

climbed to his feet dragging at the chain.

Can I do it alone? He flipped the chain.

When Al had a plan, nothing, but nothing

got in the way, especially when it was

working.

Marty jerked his head and Robin

unlocked the padlock that had rubbed

Als hip all day. Laying the chain at

Ruths side and grinding the padlock into

the loose soil, Al whispered two words

into her ear. Not yet.

Al Trainer could set up a small tent in tenminutes, in a gale force wind, on uneven

ground, between bolts of lightening and

under hostile fire. Setting up this tent,

however, made unique demands. This

tent was key to the plan for which Al had

searched. Besides an excuse to get thechain unlocked, the tent, if he set it up

according to his plan, would give them

the time they needed to get away. All he


36/67

needed was a couple of loose tent pegs.

And a little cooperation.

The small tent eventually sat taut andperfectly shaped waiting for Martys

approval. Al stood in the lanterns light

admiring his work until the big man and

his ever-present pistol forced him back

onto his end of the chain. When the

clogged padlock clicked closed, Al grit

his teeth. Failure didn't sit well. For all

his effort, the two of them were again

chained. Running was still out of the

question.

Robin was first in the tent to sleep while

Marty kept an eye on the chained pair.

For a while the two captives sat watching

flecks of moonlight glint off the .45. If

we could separate those two, Al

whispered, Robin already seems to be at

odds with Marty. It shouldn't be toodifficult to drive a wedge between them in

our favor. Of course, if Marty falls asleep

on watch, we could make a break for it in

spite of the chain. Al offered, hoping to

avoid the confrontation his loose tent peg

plan would require.

Or, the woman added, if we can stop

them right here, before they have a


37/67

chance to get away. Wouldn't that be

better?

If we have a chance to get away anddont, what youre talking about is

deliberately taking on two weapons and

two desperate outlaws. The daring ideas

were usually Als.

You afraid of a little danger? She knew

he wasnt, shed been watching him since

the beginning.

Useless danger, yes." Al faced her

challenge. "Im scared. Scared you dont

know what youre suggesting. In a

sullen silence, Al continued thumbing

through their options; sorting ideas in his

head, again conjuring a plan only to find

it flawed and be forced to abandon it

without sharing the idea.

He didnt realize how long the silencebetween them had lasted until he was

startled by her voice low and clear.

If youre thinking you have to protect

me, you should know that I can take care

of myself. Ive had some survivaltraining. I was an Army nurse for twenty-

two years. Southeast Asia, Middle East.

Dont let the fact that Im female fool

you. Im probably in better shape than


38/67

you are. I can catch a fish with my bare

hands and see a fly at twenty feet and

my knees are still good.

Al winced at the truth. This was a time

for inventorying assets not saving face.

Point taken.

You asked me if Id be in a hundred

percent when the time came. Ive thought

about it and now, Im asking you the

same thing.

Sure. Al nodded in the darkness. If it

comes to that. Hopefully it wont but if it

does. Al agreed and the die was cast.

He just didnt know what shape the

casting would take, what action would be

required, but now at least he knew

someone was watching his back.

Twenty feet? Al questioned what was

surely an exaggeration of her visualacuity added for his amusement.

Well, she yawned, maybe nineteen.

They watched Martys dark shape move

around the campsite, rooting in theknapsack, smoking too many cigarettes

and wandering tripping and stumbling in

the dark. The bumbling bank robber

began to imagine dangers in the forest


39/67

that only he could see. He saw eyes

watching him from every angle. When he

convinced himself that theyd been

followed from town, he insisted thelantern be extinguished; yet he continued

to smoke and mumble to himself.

Al laughed. Maybe hell get poison ivy

or better yet, fall and break a leg. I

wouldnt let you splint it you know. You

wouldnt help him as long as he has the

gun would you?

There was no answer; the woman slept.

Al intended to keep one alert eye on

Marty. He settled down under his jacket

for warmth and with the other eye,

watched the stars overhead. Wherever he

slept under an open sky, he listened.

Here, he listened to the mountains

sounds. This was the place he came to

spend his down-time. The noisy natural

sounds soothed away reality replacing itwith the sound of rock and water from the

Tumbles and the smell of a bed of pine

needles.

The muted rattle of the chain brought him

back to reality. He realized that he musthave been asleep. An arm reached over

him followed by the pressure of a head

against his shoulder and a body stretched

out close to him. Hed forgotten the


40/67

comfortable feel of a woman. Most of the

time, it wasnt something he dared to

allow himself to think about.

Im cold. She whispered. I hope you

dont mind. In other circumstances, Id

wait for an invitation, but you seem a

little slow.

Any time, any circumstances. Al

pulled his jacket over her and drew her

warmth in closer. Not as slow as you

might think. Youre here arent you.

Marty prowled constantly but for Al,

there was nothing to be done. The

exaggerated route hed chosen and the

forced nature of the climb had taken a

physical toll that he privately

acknowledged. Bone deep fatigue

wouldnt be denied. He lay listening to

the womans breathing and to the

mountain. The night sounds told himdawn was no more than three or four

hours away. Comfort and warmth

blended with exertion and lack of sleep.

Al drifted away from consciousness.


41/67

Chapter 7

By moonrise, Marty had fretted himselfinto exhaustion and he woke Robin. The

rustle of the changing of the guard woke

Ruth. She lay quiet. There was

something about a mans arms that could

warm a woman head to toe and she didnt

want to give that up. Still, in time, she

quietly rolled away from Al and sat up.

Robin, she hissed. Robin.

The slender shadow crept toward her.

Be quiet, youll wake up Marty. What

do you want?

A few minutes of privacy. Please.

Unchain me, just for a minute. I promise

I wont run off. I promise. The woman

begged.

Martyd shoot me if he woke up and

found Id unlocked you.

I promise. Ruth repeated. "Please."

Robin hesitated then dug out the key;daring Martys anger was no small thing

but Robin was already at odds with him

and finally finding the courage to defy

him felt good. Back in the store, when


42/67

Marty had relinquished the small

revolver, he was unaware that he could

easily have been Robin's target. Now,

however, the pistol was pointed at Alssleeping head.

Only a short time passed before, as

promised, Ruth returned to the clearing.

Approaching the figure huddled near Al,

she settled quietly to the ground between

the sleeping man and the pistol.

You dont want to be here do you?

Ruth whispered.

Robin shivered, pocketed the pistol and

blew on a pair of chilled fists for warmth.

By the time dawn pushed back the night,

the two had been in conversation for an

hour. In that time, Ruth had driven home

the wedge they needed between Robin

and Marty. Robin's story convinced herthat Marty was responsible for the bank

robbery, but the actions that bungled it

were Robins deliberate attempt to stop

the crime. The car trouble they had and

the botched getaway into these mountains

were Robins doing. Marty had neededmoney, lots of it and Robin was caught in

his scheming by circumstances.


43/67

Al knew what woke him. Whispering.

He didnt move, open his eyes or draw

audible breath. Ruth sat with her back to

him talking to Robin. For a minute hethought they were in league. Their words

were obscure but the tone they shared was

conversational. He knew he should not

have slept but any harm was done.

Al. Ruth turned shaking him.

Im awake. He admitted.

If you can take Marty, we can get out of

here and turn him in to the sheriff at

Sedalia.

What? Al found himself again buying

time.

Take Marty. Ruth repeated

And if I cant?" Al protested any planguaranteed to fail. "Take him that is?

Hes six-eight, two-eighty. Hes got

twenty years on me. Are you crazy!

Then youre not the man I thought you

were. She dared him. Maybe youdrather take the girl.

What girl? Al wasnt slow, but

sometimes he was a little dense.


44/67


45/67

The women nodded. Al felt his position

as leader slipping away and he didnt

know why.

You think Im some kind of hero? Al

was half afraid of the coming answer.

Somehow theyd set him up. Forced him

to back himself into a lose-lose corner.

Again the nodding heads encouraged him.

Not a hero, more like a fool. Im not

taking on a .45 in the dark.

Ruth held out her hand. In it, the small

pistol Robin had surrendered while they

talked. Take this. The gun Marty has is

the one from the store. It hasnt been

cleaned or fired in years. Its probably

loaded with blanks. It was my Fathers.

He came home from the war hating guns

but we needed something in the store.

It wont hurt you. Robin whispered.

Like hell it wont. Itll make a hole big

enough to drain away gallons of body

fluid and several important organs. Alhad taken a hit from a .45 more than once

and the memory was vivid.


46/67

But its loaded with blanks. Robin

repeated. You wont get hurt.

Thats a dangerous myth. Al spat.The velocity at which that harmless

wadding leaves the barrel is enough to kill

at close range, and inside that tent, trust

me, is close range. Im not going in and

neither are either of you. As far as were

concerned, Marty is packing live rounds.

You understand? Al had his say and he

could see that the two women had let go

of a plan that would most likely have

permanently disabled if not outright killed

him.

Still, Al knew what had to be done and he

was glad hed rigged the tent while setting

it up. What remained was to share his

plan with two women who were about to

take on a man both had reason to fear

and hate. That they were not an

experienced, highly trained team becameclear during his whispered make-shift

briefing. Their attention wandered; not in

fear of their task, but in what Al soon

identified as fidgeting expectation. These

two couldn't wait to get Marty on the

defensive.

Earlier, when hed set up the tent to

collapse on cue, Al had done so with no

thought that hed have allies when the


47/67

time came, much less eager ones. He

assigned each woman a peg; he would

take the side of the tent opposite them.

Carefully, he explained to Ruth andRobin that they must all pull at their

assigned pegs at the same time in order to

have the tent fall smoothly around the

sleeping figure. He stressed that they

must, absolutely must, wait until they

received his signal before pulling. Once

the tent was down, they were to

immediately begin rolling Marty into a

snug log so that Al could wrap the chain

around him before cutting away the tent

fabric at his head and legs. If everyone

cooperated, Al promised the women, it

would take less than sixty seconds to turn

the tables on the big man.

Weather threatened their one advantage

surprise. Dawn came behind gray clouds

and distant rumbling thunder. Serious

thunder or rain on his tent would surelywake Marty. There could be no further

delay. He might begin to stir at any

moment.

Als team ignored the coming storm.

They itched to be about their task for thesake of it. He wondered if thered be

even enough accidental cooperation to

yield any measure of success. Lacking

that, hed probably be forced to find out


48/67

once and for all if he could take the

muscled kidnapper.

He neednt have worried about success.He should have worried about

cooperation. The zealous women pulled

their pegs before Al had determined

where Martys head lay. The tent floated

down on the sleeping man. Before the

canvas had settled, the women rolled the

now helpless man toward Al shoving him

out of their way, bumping the hapless

bully over Als un-pulled tent pegs.

Bound by the tent, the two women stood

over their captive congratulating each

other. Al was wrong, it took less than

thirty seconds.

The first slit Al cut in the tent roll allowed

him to retrieve the .45. The second

opening exposed the red pulsing face of a

man well practiced in the art of anger and

virtually unskilled in its management.The women stood by congratulating

themselves, amused by the impotent

profanity Marty bellowed.

Al listened to their triumphant chatter.

He should have been relieved that thesituation had been resolved without injury

but what he felt was a hint of doubt. The

sooner Marty was delivered to the law,

the more likely the bully was to escape


49/67

retribution at the hands of a couple of

recently empowered women.

Marty thrashed and twisted in the roll ofrain-soaked canvas cursing and

threatening what he would do once he

freed himself. He verbally abused the

natural peace of the mountain morning

until Ruth threatened his face with a

switch. Al had witnessed revenge. He

even believed in it in some situations, but

Marty lacked the concept. Al would have

to intervene on his behalf if the womens

hostility escalated. Defending a bully was

not something Al would relish.

Only the mans head was visible outside

of the rolled, chained tent. Due to the

womens preemptive actions, Martys feet

were not where Al intended them to be

when the tent fell. It was not going to be

possible for the irate man to walk wound

up in the tent as his feet were. He wouldhave to be freed before he could be

properly restrained.

You gotta get me outta here. Martys

arrogance was all Al needed to confirm

that preparing him to hike back down themountain was not going to be an easy

task.


50/67

Ladies, Al set about asserting his

imagined authority. We need to tie him

up and get back to the truck. Theres a

radio in it. If its still working, we cancall for help.

The women stared at him. Al had seen

that look before and it always meant that,

as clear as he believed his orders were,

more of an explanation was required.

Facing the women, Al rattled a loose

section of the binding chain. One end

around his wrists, the other around his

ankles should slow him down but allow

him to walk. Were going to have to

unwind him but hes not going to be easy

to handle.

Al had already guessed that what needed

doing was too simple not to become

complicated with the women involved.

He was right. Without a pause, Robin

went into action. She dug into theoversized knapsack tossing assorted items

out of her way. When she rose from the

pack, she headed directly across the

clearing for Marty. She went swinging a

cast iron skillet.

Al lunged taking a position between the

young woman and the writhing bundle.

Standing between Marty and Robin


51/67

wasnt exactly the way he thought hed

use the wedge between them.

Where are you going with that? Hedemanded, already suspecting Robins

goal.

Al turned to Ruth and flexed shoulders

that still ached from yesterdays march.

I cant believe you packed a skillet?

Robin. He considered urging decency

on the young woman and abandoned the

idea immediately. Better to reason

compassion, he thought, but suspecting

that wouldnt stop her either, he suggested

common sense. Well have to carry him

if you knock him out. Either that or sit

here in the rain until he comes to again.

Im not going to knock him out.

Robins Midwestern drawl accented her

threat. Im going to beat the livin crapout of him.

Al believed her.

Look Ive seen for myself that he

mistreats you but there are legal ways tohandle that. He tried to bring her back to

her better nature, assuming she had one.

And a skillet isnt one of them.


52/67

Al could see that his argument carried no

weight. Ruth, handle this.

The woman remained comfortably seatedat a distance. Al, he beat her, he

degraded her. When she was fifteen he

traded her for drugs. He used her as it

suited him. I say let her have at least one

whack. When Ruth smacked her thigh

for emphasis, Robin flinched.

At one time, Al Trainers lifes work was

confronting hostile action; he never

wanted to, yet, when required, he always

did what needed doing. But a

confrontation with a determined woman?

That, he avoided whenever possible.

Hed been lucky that these two had

listened to him about the gun; but now,

against them, he felt outnumbered and out

of his element.

Still, he was reluctant to stand by in thepresence of wholesale murder. He

preferred reasoning interference. It

demanded less blood. He tried Ruth

again. You arent the woman I thought

you were if you can encourage violence

as an answer to violence. Youre a nursefor Petes sake!

Robin stood over Marty, the skillet raised

over her head. Al saw the hatred in her


53/67

eyes and recognized that she was quite

capable of hitting the squirming man.

And hitting him repeatedly.

You cant stop her. Ruth told Al If

you interfere now, she will only try again

and the next time you might not be there

and shell succeed. She needs to stop

herself. To know that it was her choice.

Someone else stopping her wouldnt

resolve anything.

Al wasnt into psychology. He was into

not witnessing deliberate murder and to

getting everyone off the mountain alive

and in reasonably sound condition. For a

heavy moment his eyes were on the skillet

raised over Robins head. Als only

option seemed to be to tackle her feet as

she began the down swing. That should

throw off her aim and limit Martys

injuries.

The moment when Robin would have

swung passed and the skillet clattered

harmlessly where she threw it against the

rocks. Wrapped in the tent, Marty lay

quiet. And very lucky. Al hoped hed

learned a lesson.

Ruth stood, brushed imaginary dust off

her jeans and smiled as though near


54/67

murder hadn't just happened. Now

what?" She faced Al.

Offered leadership, Al jumped at thechance to quiet raw nerves.

"We use that chain to restrain him then

head down the mountain and call the

law."

"He could still escape." Ruth noted and

Robin nodded agreement.

As easily as he'd gained command, Al felt

it slipping away.

"Theres whats left of a fallen tree, a

section of its trunk, a stump, it's not far.

Ruth pointed. We can wrap the chain

around it. She left the description

incomplete allowing the image of Marty

chained to what remained of a fallen tree

to form for itself.

Al looked at Marty then, one at a time, at

the women. A dead stump? What for?"

He puzzled a moment and then saw no

point in interfering with what they had in

mind. "Never mind." He surrendered toa logic he recognized but would only

understand when he saw it in action.

"Your idea. Your plan. You go get it."


55/67

In times of need, lack of chivalry came

naturally to a man who had commanded

women as well as men. They weren't all

the same to Al, but in times of necessity,arms and legs, and brains were what made

the difference between success and

failure; polite society didnt enter into it.

Under no circumstances did he intend to

let either the small revolver or the old .45

pass into either womans hands. He

would be the one to keep an eye on

Marty.

The two women pushed, dragged and

rolled the stump of what was once a fir

tree into the clearing. Al studied the

flared root base and what was left of the

two-foot diameter trunk. A huge bulge on

the trunk near the roots, probably what

killed the tree, guaranteed that the chain

circling the stump between the bulge and

the roots would stay put.

When Al pronounced his reluctant

approval of their find, the women went to

work while he stood guard with Robins

pistol. He wasnt sure who he was

protecting, but he wasnt really prepared

to shoot anyone but Marty. In the nexthalf hour, Al watched subtle revenge at

work.


56/67

Ruth and Robin pulled at the chain and

flipped the tent and its contents rolling

down a slight incline where its forward

motion was stopped abruptly by a tree.Not exactly the way Al would have done

it, but the rough handling accomplished

the task. Marty was knocked nearly

senseless and freed from the winding tent

and the chain.

Woozy from his impact with the tree, the

bully was belted by the chain padlocked

snuggly at his waist. The opposite end of

the chain was wrapped around the stump

between the root flare and the bulge.

Marty wasnt going anyplace that he

couldnt carry the stump. When Al

mentioned that the chain at his waist

might be a little tight, two pair of eyes

under knit, disapproving brows snapped

in his direction.

Al defended his reasoning. Im justsaying that when he lifts that stump to

walk--.

Hardly generous, Ruth allowed an

additional two links.

When Martys head stopped swimming,

the two women jerked and prodded the

big man on his feet.


57/67

Al traded the pistol for the more

intimidating .45. Under its threat, held

steady in Als hand, Marty picked up the

stump but refused to move. Legs spreadfor balance, he woke the heavens with his

ranting. In the language of curdling

anger, his violent nature boiled over in a

tirade, not so much against Al as against

the women.

Al groaned and made an attempt to

convince the bully that he needed to

cooperate. With both his hands on the

stump, Al pushed Marty up to a boulder

pinning him there with the stump wedged

between them. Hardly above a whisper

Al gave reason a try.

You listen to me you sorry excuse for a

human being. Youre a cruel son-of-a-

bitch and thats earned you pretty near

anything either of these women want to

do to you. So as far as Im concernedthey can beat you to death with that skillet

and pound your carcass to mush with it.

But, man to man here, I feel that I oughta

warn you because apparently youve

missed learning a valuable lesson in your

miserable life. And that is that thecruelest man isnt as capable of as much

downright meanness as is the sweetest

woman whos out for revenge. And

youve set these women against you.


58/67

Now, whether you live long enough to be

arrested is entirely up to you. If youre

smart enough to stop pissing them off,

you just might survive this. But if youkeep up this yelling, if you dont shut up

and they dont beat the crap out of you

first, I just may shoot you myself. After

a second thought, he added. In the foot

and leave youfor the bears."

Al took one long step backward allowing

the stump to drop at Martys feet. The

thud was followed by silence. Al was

satisfied that perhaps some bit of truth

had finally penetrated Martys anger.

The trip down slope was a nightmare no

military task or small town assignment

would ever be able to match. The light

drizzling rain persisted. A downpour

would have washed the steep trail clean

and given them some chance of secure

footing, but the fine droplets created athin coat of mud underfoot. Marty

stumbled and slid barely keeping to the

trail as Ruth led. Directly behind Marty,

Robin kept an uneven pace leaning on a

branch which she had fashioned into a

walking stick. Behind her, Al brought upthe rear, the smaller pistol wedged in his

belt at his belly, the big .45 in the small of

his back and a steady eye on Marty.


59/67

He should have known that the peace hed

wrenched from Marty was temporary.

Still Al hoped hed seen, and heard, the

last disruption. He hoped, but not forlong. He didnt see it but he was certain

that Robin and her walking stick figured

in the deed.

Marty stumbled off the trail and was

dragged down an incline by the weight of

the falling stump. He tumbled into a

stand of aspens where freak momentum

flung the chain into a loop around his

neck.

The three of them began inching their

way down the incline toward the choking

man. When Als jacket caught on in a

thorn bush, the women slid quickly past

him and on down the toward Marty. Als

intention was to reach Marty and untangle

the choking length of chain before the

man lost consciousness. He was certainthat the womens intentions no doubt

varied.

At the bottom of the incline, Marty

couldnt or wouldnt calm down.

Blistering the quiet forest with a gaspingharangue, he alternately clutched at the

wet slippery chain then pumped his fists

into anyone who got near him. In lashing

about, he grasped at Ruth with a hand


60/67

large enough to encircle her throat. In an

unplanned second, Marty had a hostage.

The chain that bit into his neck began toloosen as he calmed. With his free hand,

Marty was able to escape the strangling

loop. As he did, his grip at Ruth's throat

tightened.

Als experience told him how things

would go if he allowed Marty to settle

into control. He stood eye to eye with the

choking woman and toe to toe with her

determined captor. Gunplay was out of

the question. Al locked on Martys eyes

and bent toward Ruth. "You told me you

had training. You know what to do?"

When she nodded understanding, Al's

right fist shot from his shoulder at the

moment he yelled for her to duck. If Ruth

had ducked, she'd have been free and

uninjured, but she twisted to Al's right,

into the path of his fist. His blow rippedacross her jaw and into Marty's throat

strangling the startled mans air flow.

Stunned, Ruth crumpled at Marty's feet.

Al backed away from him dragging her

by the collar. Then he cocked the pistoland pointed it prepared to fire.


61/67

She tripped me. Marty rasped and

pointed at Robin ignoring all aspects of

his attack on Ruth.

I dont care. Al shrugged and waved

the pistol. Get up there. Under Als

threat, Marty worked at dragging the

stump back up to the trail.

Al pulled Ruth to her feet tugging at her

jacket. On her jaw, a bruise in the shape

of his knuckles was already forming. In

the Army, didn't you learn to take orders?

I told you to duck. You dodged. Why

didn't you duck?" He demanded.

In the police academy, didn't you learn

to be civil to civilians? You hit me, can't

you just apologize. Do you have to yell.

She shot back.

It took them another two hours to cover

the distance back to where Al had ditchedhis truck. They found it exactly as they'd

left it less than twenty-four hours ago.

Al stood on the edge of the gravel road

and waited for those few hours to catch

up with events. He knew what he needed.He needed to get into the truck. He

needed its radio to be in working

condition. He needed to keep Marty from

taking off, stump and all. He needed to


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keep the women from brutalizing the

bully. He couldn't trust either of them

with the pistol. He needed to be in two

places at once.

Always open to options, Al saw only

three choices. He pushed the kidnapper

to the edge of the road above the wrecked

truck. "Listen to me. Ive got three

choices. You can let me chain you to that

truck down there. I can shoot you where

you stand, or I can leave you and this

pistol up here with the women. I don't

much care which. Its up to you. But, I

need to get down there." Al pointed to

the truck. Not that he cared what

happened to the bully; he was tired of

defending the likes of Marty against the

women.

If his radio worked, Al would send a call

for help. If the radio didn't work, he

would be forced to leave the man chainedto the chassis of the over-turned pickup

truck. It was the only way they could

make it back to town for help before dark.

Another night in the mountains, cold, and

without food or shelter in this rain was

not an option and it all depended on aperpetually hostile man whose only fear

seemed to be bearsand a couple of

women.


63/67

Finally, a plan worked. Held in the sights

of the .45, Marty chained himself to the

trucks chassis apparently unaware that he

was trading the stump for an effectiveprison. He responded predictably. He

kicked at the undercarriage and the tires

and howled at the imagined injustice

being done him.

Up on the road, the women sat in the mud

on the shoulder watching events transpire

at the bottom of the ditch. "Robin, it will

be better for you if you turn yourself in."

Ruth broached the difficult subject.

"Yeah, I thought about that. Some of the

things I've done have to be paid for and

the way things work, I'll probably have to

testify against Marty"

"Is that a problem?"

"He's my step-brother. I probablyshouldnt speak against him, he raised me

after our parents died, but hes done

wrong and the only way I can get myself

right is to do whats right. Thanks for

believing me and for treating me decently.

No body ever did that."

Ruth nodded. The women fell silent

listening to Marty howl; watching Al

work around the mangled truck. Cold


64/67

clumsy fingers grappled with damaged

wiring in his effort to power the radio.

The headlights flashed and the horn

blared in turn. Als struggle to create theproper connection became a challenge

that amused and distracted the tired

women.

"So? You and Al, are you? Robin

hinted for details. You know, an item?"

"Us? An item? No. The single word

trailed off as Ruth watched Als delight

when the reluctant radio come to life.

In minutes, the county sheriff's car

followed by two state troopers arrived

scattering gravel and splattering mud.

Marty was hauled out of the ditch and

bundled, chain and all, shrieking and

flailing into the sheriff's car. Robin sat

weeping in another car.

It was over.

One minute Al and Ruth were standing on

the mountain road in the rain listening to

Marty howl obscenities at them, the next

they stood shivering, inside the old store.

Waiting for the patrol car that would take

Al home, Ruth leaned on the cluttered

counter. Silence in the old store had


65/67

always been comfortable. Now it was

awkward. Painful. Theyd been through

too much to talk about the weather.

Shared too much danger to be casualacquaintances. Where once little or no

conversation was the norm, the silence in

the store shouted until Ruth spoke aloud

to her own thoughts. I would never have

hurt him or allowed Robin to hurt him.

You could have fooled me. Al shot

back the contradiction.

Robin needed to believe that someone

was on her side for a change. Siding with

her was a way out without anyone being

killed. It was all I could think to do to

avoid your plan.

My plan? You think I would have killed

two people just like that? Al snapped his

fingers.

Her eyes held him. I think you know

how. She whispered.

A lot of people these days know how,

that doesnt mean they would. Als

innocence in this instance wasnt much ofan argument in his favor and he knew it.

Hoping to end her pointed evaluation, he

thought to distract her by exaggerating the


66/67

effort it took to shake himself out of his

soggy torn jacket.

She pressed on. You would have; youhave the ability. It was in your voice, in

your attitude. Dont misunderstand me,

in the middle of everything, I was glad

you were there, glad you stood up to

Marty, glad you werent afraid to take a

life if it had come to that.

He stood at the door listening to her tell

him truths he truly wished he could

separate himself from.

It was like you had a job to do and when

you finished it, you put away the tools.

The voice, the attitude, theyre like your

jacket, something you put on to do a job

then discard when the work is done. The

ability to kill though? Can you shed that

too?

Some truths shouldnt be denied. Cant

be denied. Who Al was and the things he

had donethese were the kind of truths

that demanded honesty. He hoped that

silence would serve both masters. Candor

and honesty.

Having said what she believed needed

saying, she moved on. Ill have your

truck towed to Sedalia for repairs. When


67/67

theyre finished with it, do you want to

pick it up here?

Surprised, he nodded at the subtleinvitation, opened the screen door and

raised his hand in a half-hearted salute.

Everything that needed to be said, for the

moment, had been said. No additional

conversation was called for or required.

When he returned, things would not be

the same in the old store or at the

Tumbles. Yet, that would probably be

alright he admitted to himself. In time, he

would tell Ruth the whole truth about Al

Trainer.

deliberately in danger

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