Chapter 1

1998

Fists beat like hammers on the metal sides of the mobile home. Mary Lou Smith heard them, insistently striking hard enough to leave hollow dents behind. Chunky fingers clawed at the windowsill as she ran from room to room. She heard the guttural curses of the two angry voices that battled against the flimsy walls of their home.

 Lou’s mother stood with her back braced against the door, her feet splayed in the worn shag carpet. Her body jumped with every thump of the trailer door as an assailant fought with his shoulder to break through the thin barrier. In one outstretched hand, she held a tattered black canvas bag. She whispered, “Take it!  Go! You don’t have much time.”

“Can’t you come, too? I can’t go out there alone!” The words hiccupped from Lou in great heaving sobs.

“Go! There isn’t much more time. Take the bag and run like hell, child!”

Lou heard the door jam splinter, wood tearing apart at the seams as the intruders came closer to entering the home. Her mother heaved forward but maintained her strong stance against the door.

Lou needed no more urging. She snatched the black bag from her mother’s grasp and fled down the narrow hallway to the largest bedroom at the back of the home, her bare feet flying over discarded clothing in her path. With shaking fingers, she pressed the window releases and slid the creaking pane open. She peered out, searching left and right; there was no one in sight.

She leaned over the windowsill and dropped the black canvas bag to the ground. Carefully, she placed one leg on the other side of the window. “Just like climbing a fence,” she told herself. She landed in the dirt on the balls of both feet, crouched like a tiger. She picked up the bag, pushed her head and one slim arm through the strap and clutched the bag to her chest. Then she did what her mother told her. She ran like hell.

Fleet of foot, she was the star of the track team in high school. The practice didn’t go to waste as she tore across the deserted back pasture into the dark woods behind the mobile home. As she ran, she heard a scream from inside the trailer.

Lou stopped and turned to stare back at the trailer. Then she heard it. Branches snapped and leaves rustled. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears and her breath came in huge gasps. She stumbled and, as she righted herself, she felt a blinding pain as it slashed across her temple

She fell to her knees just as she broke from the woods onto a paved street. She lifted a hand to block the lights of the oncoming traffic. She heard a desperate screech of tires as a truck swerved to miss the object crouched in the middle of the road.

“Please, God, help me…” she muttered as she fell, the black bag falling by her side.

****

Old Jeb groaned as he climbed into the cab of his pickup. “Man, what a long day,” he sighed, looking across the seat at his companion, John Wester. John stretched out his long legs and reached to turn on the radio as they pulled out of the gates at the state fairground’s horse complex, where an auction preview had just taken place.

“None of that rock and roll crap, John,” Jeb said, talking around a toothpick in his mouth.

“Yes, sir,” John replied. “What did you think of this year’s colts?” he asked.

“There were quite a few I have my eye on,” Jeb replied. “I’m really interested in Sunset’s Finale Girl, even though she’s not at the top of the list.”

“Was that the quarter horse?” John asked.

“Yeah. She would throw beautiful foals if we breed her with Wester’s Folly.”

John nodded and lay back against the headrest, his eyes closing. Jeb heard one muffled snore from the boy before saw the form falling to the street. He swerved to avoid it and skidded to a halt. He dropped from the cab of the truck, now further in the ditch than out, and scrambled around the front. He knelt beside the body that lay on the gray pavement at an odd angle, obviously unconscious.

“Lord ha’ mercy! It’s a girl! John!” He cradled her in his arms and lifted her from the pavement, the black bag still dangling beneath her, bumping his legs as he walked.

John slid over to the driver’s seat and put the truck in four wheel drive. Jeb watched as he carefully maneuvered the truck out of the ditch and then leaned across the bench seat to fling open the door. Jeb lifted the girl so John could get his hands under her armpits and pulled her toward him. The girl started to rouse and clenched John’s arm tightly, worry etched on her face. She sat up, staring intently out the back window of the truck. Tears rolled down her cheeks as he turned his head to see what was upsetting her. There were flames reaching into the sky where a home had once been. She clutched her head and winced.

“Go… go…” she mumbled as she lost consciousness again, her head falling into John’s lap.

Jeb jumped in the front passenger seat just before the side window shattered into pieces. John grabbed tightly to the wheel and jammed his foot on the gas. Tires dug into the pavement, leaving behind black streaks as they screamed away.

Further down the road, both men sat up from their bent positions and turned toward the girl, now slumped in the middle of the seat. She was still unconscious and unmoving. Jeb wiped the sweaty dark bangs from her brow, revealing the small gash from the bullet that had torn across her forehead. He removed a square cotton handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to the wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

But then a movement caught his eye. The black canvas bag was still hanging over her shoulder and began to move. John took one hand off the wheel and reached cautiously toward the bag. He grabbed the heavy metal zipper and moved it down the length of the bag. A chubby little arm stuck out from a hole now created by the open zipper, its tiny little fist shaking in frustration at the strangers.

“Well, I’ll be damned…It’s a baby,” He muttered, rubbing his chin.

“What do we do now?” John asked.

“We damn sure can’t wait to see what’s going to come up behind us, John,” Jeb glanced in the rearview mirrors, fear evident in the voice of the normally unshakable man.

“Well, then, what are we gonna do with her?” John asked hesitantly.

Jeb lifted the folded handkerchief from her temple, looking closely at the shallow wound. “We’re going to take her back to Sadie and see what she says.”

“But what about that?” John asked with a look of pure fear, pointing toward the still form that had been lulled to sleep by the motion of the truck, the small fist now resting peacefully against its cheek.

“We’re taking that, too.”

****

The sweaty man walked slowly back through the woods, his dress shoes crunching against the gravel drive as he walked toward the burning trailer. His curses could be heard as he swore under his breath. “Bitch just had to be a runner.”

“Did you lose her?” the other assailant asked as put a gas can in the trunk and closed the lid.

He swore again and wiped his forehead with the tail of his T-shirt. “Yeah. I thought I had her. I even saw her fall. Then some Good Samaritan stopped and picked her up out of the road.”

“Did you get the plate number?”

“Nah. It was too foggy. By the time I got there, they were gone.” He waved the barrel of his gun in the direction of the road. “Boss is going to have my ass.” He cursed again.

“I checked the house. The package is not inside.”

“I know. She had it with her.”

“You’re sure she had it with her?”

“Yeah. I saw her carrying a bag. What do you want to bet Mommy gave it to her before she told her to run?”

“You should have caught her, Jackass.” He flipped open the phone and spoke quickly to the boss, explaining what happened. Then he turned to the sweat-soaked man and said, “Boss says you’re no longer needed.” He pulled the gun from his belt and fired.

****

Lou woke to the gentle sway of the truck.  Suddenly, the memories came back to her and she sat up abruptly, grabbing her head and squeezing her eyes closed, the pain shooting from one side of her skull to the other.

“Whoa, there, little lady,” a gentle voice caught her attention as the pain forced her to sit back against the seat of the truck, her hand clutched against her head. Through squinted eyes, she peered at the dark form on her right. She turned her head to get a better view and quickly closed her eyes again as waves of nausea hit her.

“Don’t you worry, none. We got you and that little bag out of the road,” a gentle voice said.

An exhaled breath was her only response as she cracked her eyes again and saw that the bag and its contents were, indeed, safe. The simple motion of her eyes as they opened caused wave after wave of nausea to crash against her. She turned slightly, unable to keep from expelling the contents of her stomach onto the shirt of the unlucky soul on her left before darkness claimed her again.

****

Sadie stepped from the front porch of the grand old house, her eyes shaded by her hand to block the headlights. She was gowned in a short, cool, robe of cotton with snaps that closed the front. The length reached just past her knees. Her brows knit together as she carefully went down the back porch steps, her ample girth a hindrance.

“Sadie, we ran into some trouble,” John said loudly, as he slid from the front seat of the truck. He held both hands out to the side, then gave up and started to remove the vomit soaked shirt he wore. The snaps pulled apart easily, leaving him in an undershirt that was reasonably clean. He laid the dirty shirt on the hood and turned to unload the cargo from the truck. He placed his hands beneath her armpits and slid her to where he could maneuver an arm beneath her shoulders and one beneath her knees. Her head fell back over his arm, long brown hair swinging in the breeze, as he turned to face Sadie.

“What is that? Oh, my Lord! John, what have you gone and done now?” Sadie’s dismay was evidenced by her indrawn breath as she bustled forward to see the bundle in John’s arms.

“Sadie, just wait till you hear what happened,” he said.

Sadie followed John through the backdoor. She clucked over his shoulder as he carried the unconscious girl down the hallway to one of the spare bedrooms. He laid her gently on the bed and Sadie bent over to assess the situation. “Of all the wounded creatures you’ve brought home, John, I think this one takes the cake.”

“This ain’t all, Sadie. Wait till you see what Jeb’s got,” John said, pointing over his shoulder to where Jeb stood with the black bag.

A startled cry pierced the silence of the room. The little bundle in the bag was wide-awake and wasn’t very happy about it. Sadie pulled the red-faced baby from the canvas bag.

Jeb looked inside the bag, removing two full bottles of milk and several diapers. If he saw the remaining contents of the bag, no one was aware. The stoic expression remained on his face.

“Anything else in there, Jeb?” John asked.

“Ain’t none of our business, Boy.”