A Cowboy's Love Part 19

"Don't worry, Metzger," he said. "We'll watch it." He'd signed off and replaced the radio on the dashboard.

So they'd waited, for over an hour now, screened by a shadowed clump of scrub oak, positioned on a rise that overlooked the desert where the plane was due to land. Thick clouds filled the sky, keeping the light of the full moon from the sand and the sage. Only occasionally, as though a shutter were being opened, did the clouds break apart and allow the rough terrain to become clearly visible. And then... "I see them!" Jamie exclaimed softly.

In a momentary burst of moonlight there was the dull gleam of the black van, moving without lights, approaching from the west.

Jamie's voice was quiet, intense, her eyes fixed on the vehicle in the distance.

"Right." Cal followed the line of her gaze and spotted the van moving slowly along the rough desert floor. He placed a restraining hand on her arm. "Don't move yet. Let them get to where they're going."

Jamie didn't need to be told. She concentrated on the vehicle, watching it move over the rocky terrain, waiting for it to come to rest. She watched and she tried to think clearly despite the pounding of her heart and the flood of adrenaline through her body. She was in the grip of a need that was so powerful it was almost physical, a need to close the distance between herself and Mandy. It took all the strength she had to control the irrational impulse to race down into that valley, to throw herself at the van and hope somehow to gather up her little girl out of it. Foolish, she knew. Foolish but almost irresistible.

When the van stopped, Jamie leaned forward over the steering wheel.

"Now," she whispered to Cal. She put the truck into gear but kept her foot on the brake.

In the distance, she saw Ray get out and reach behind the seat to take out a handful of stick-like flares, and watched as he drove them into the sand, every ten or twelve feet, pacing out a long rectangle, with Tina driving behind him, leaning through the half-opened door, torching each flare in turn. It had been too dark for Jamie to have seen it earlier, but in the flares' light she could see that the makes.h.i.+ft runway had already been roughly cleared and now that it was ready for the plane's arrival, Tina brought the van around into position, about fifty feet away from the burning flares, ready to meet the plane.

"Okay, Jamie," Cal said quietly, looking at his watch. "Those flares won't burn for very long. That plane will have to land in a few minutes. Start driving in slowly and come around behind them."

Jamie took her foot off the brake, letting the truck's own weight carry it quietly down the slope. Keeping as much as she could within the sheltering hollows, and steering for the cover of thick clumps of scrubby trees, she touched her foot to the gas, just enough to keep the truck moving, keeping their advance as quiet as she could. She made a wide arc around the end of the runway, keeping an eye on Tina and Ray who were facing south, away from her. With the engine of their souped-up van running, they never heard her approach.

"Hold it there," Cal said quietly, at about a couple hundred yards' distance from the runway. With luck, if the clouds continued to cover the moon, the darkness would conceal them for as long as they needed, and Jamie held the truck there, ready to move quickly, as soon as she got the signal.

The flares would have only seven or eight more minutes' burning time, but as Jamie and Cal watched from the truck, they could see, silhouetted against the silvery clouds, the plane approaching from the south. It was showing no lights, except for the interior c.o.c.kpit lights, and it came in quickly, touching down and rolling up close to where Ray and Tina were waiting. As soon as the plane came to a stop, the pilot climbed out and joined Ray and Tina on the ground.

Jamie eased up on the brake and the truck rolled forward, a few feet at a time, while the three people below, blanketed by the noise of the plane's engine, unloaded the cargo onto the ground. She set the truck into position, now only two hundred feet from the plane, and Cal took aim through the open window.

"Hold it steady right there, darlin', and stay down." Cal sighted carefully. "There's going to be plenty of action in a minute. Be ready to move fast."

In quick succession, Cal fired twice and the plane's front tire exploded, the landing gear collapsed, and the plane dropped, disabled, to the ground. In the confusion of noise and billowing dust, the three people froze momentarily, looking into the dark, trying to find the origin of the shots.

Jamie turned on the headlights, illuminating the little group.

Ray tried to back out of the glare while he grabbed at his phone that was snapped to his belt. The pilot jumped to the plane's wing, with a big pistol in his hand. Tina was running for the van.

Jamie had the truck in motion and Cal had his door open. He yelled back at her as he dropped out onto the ground.

"Go get her, Jamie!"

Speeding now over the rough terrain, Jamie circled the truck around Tina, getting between her and the van, herding her as though she was a frantic cow, back toward the plane, as the woman ran about wildly, trying to avoid being run down by the onrus.h.i.+ng Ford.

On the ground, Cal knelt, quickly sighted and squeezed the trigger. The phone was blown away out of Ray's hand, the force of the impact throwing his hand up over his head and spinning him off his feet. The second shot pinged off the plane's door, throwing sparks into the pilot's face, and he crouched down in a hurry. Cal fired once more, this time directly at the pilot who was again reaching into the c.o.c.kpit for his pistol. The shot slammed him, spread-eagled against the plane. He fell to the ground, rolling over, clutching his right shoulder as blood ran down between his fingers.

Ray, on the ground, was trying to think fast, trying to figure out what was happening. The truck's headlights were moving toward them, pinning Tina in place like a moth on a board, and like a black cut-out against those lights Ray saw a tall man who was walking slowly toward him. The man was carrying a rifle and Ray knew the man was coming for him. He saw the man stop about twenty feet away, then lean forward and lay his rifle on the ground. Then, still slowly, purposefully, the stranger kept coming, his face illuminated by the burning flares. Ray saw what was in the man's eyes and he knew he was in for a fight. He came up from the ground swinging.

Cal blocked the first blow easily, but Ray was a big man who sensed he might be fighting for his life. He drove his fist against Cal's face, feeling hard bone against his knuckles. That was the last blow he landed.

When he'd started for him, Cal's anger was still rational. He was seeking revenge-for Jamie's sake. But something happened to him in the first instant of contact between them, something that was powerfully intensified when Ray's fist crashed against his face, something born of his anger and the night's darkness and the fiery backdrop of the burning flares, something that had been gathering itself in him for many months, something awful and evil.

Cal's rage exploded, ignited by a fury that went far beyond Ray Nixon. In the light of the flares, sparking and sputtering behind them, the writhing figure before him became every blackhearted devil that had ever raised its head against him, and Cal struck back with his fists, blow after repeated blow And as he fought, there seemed to him to appear in the twisting glow, in a procession, every one-ton animal that had ever fought him or thrown him or tried to stomp him, and especially-oh, most especially-the one, finally, that had ground him up against a stinking piece of steel and taken his youth away from him. And he saw, in the flames and in the shadow, as though in a strobe-lit parade, every golden day of his own glory, now gone forever, and he saw every careless, jaunty afternoon in the sun, carelessly enjoyed, too soon lost.

All Cal's self-restraint was gone and his rage fed on itself. In a fury that seemed to flow from him in a deadly slow motion he slammed his fists over and over again into Ray's face and body. When Ray slipped to the ground, Cal lifted him so he could hit him again. The violence was unnecessary-a simple arrest would have been enough-but Cal was beyond knowing that; he was driven by demons that he had to destroy and Ray was their subst.i.tute, a handy big brute of a man against whom, at first for Jamie's sake, and for Mandy's, and then for his own, Cal continued to fight. He beat against him until the flares had burned down to the ground, and only then, as they hissed and sputtered out in the sand, was he finally released from his own fury and only then did he let Ray go.

He stood over him, breathing painfully, his rages and his demons finally wrung out of him. It was all over, and he stood at the center of the steady light from the truck, and only then did he see that it had been only a man he'd been fighting so mercilessly, and only then did he think to look and see if he had killed him.

But Ray was not dead. The dumb sonofab.i.t.c.h was only collapsed and bleeding on the sand. Cal stared at him for a while, unaware that his own face was wet with blood and tears. His breathing felt strangled and it made his chest hurt. He took his bandana from his back pocket and wiped it across his mouth. Slowly, he caught his breath. On the ground, Ray was gasping, too beaten to move. Cal grabbed him by the back of his collar and dragged him, stumbling, back to the plane, where he dumped him onto the ground, next to the pilot, who was gripping his bleeding shoulder and moaning. Cal wiped his hands on his jeans, as though they'd gotten into something dirty.

"In my great-grandfather's day," Cal said to them, "they hanged your kind from the nearest tree."

Then he turned his back on them and, as he went to pick up his rifle, he shot a lightning-quick glance over at Jamie to be sure she was okay.

What he saw made his breath come more easily and he had to smile. She had positioned the truck between the van and the immobilized little group in front of the plane. Through the driver's-side window, she was holding the big Smith and Wesson on them, and n.o.body was moving. Cal knew she hadn't a clue how to operate that big revolver, but she sure looked ready to kill. Her hand was steady and eye was cold, and if he'd been the one looking into that deadly barrel, he wouldn't have been inclined to fool around with her.

He walked to the truck and, standing next to the window where Jamie was bracing the revolver, he turned toward the three people on the ground.

"Get your faces in the dirt," he yelled at them, "all of you! Put your hands behind you, where I can see them, on your head!" Then to Jamie, loud enough so he could be sure they heard him, "Hand me that radio, honey, and if any one of them moves, shoot to kill."

He knew she'd be no more able to shoot to kill than she could fly, and he winked at her, giving her a little smile, as she pa.s.sed the radio to him through the window.

But Jamie was in no mood to be flippant. She was very scared and she was desperate to get this over with so she could get Mandy out of the van. And she'd seen what Cal had done to Ray, and she knew that wasn't all for her sake alone. She knew she'd seen him fight his demons, and it scared her to see how fierce Cal's demons were.

But she did her best to hold the revolver steady, and she waited silently while Cal radioed to Metzger on the special frequency.

"Hey, Metzger. Where are you people? Jamie and I are holding the bad guys here for you. You expect us to hang around all night?"

He grinned mischievously at Jamie. He was feeling a whole lot better now.

"Stop showing off, Cameron." Jerry Metzger's hard voice rasped back at him over the radio. "You cowboys think you're a bunch of freakin' heroes. You just keep those people under control and our chopper will be down in a minute. Then we'll show you how it's supposed to be done." Even as he spoke, Cal heard the roar of the helicopter's engine and saw its lights, moving quickly toward them.

"Okay, Metzger. I see you now. We'll keep them on ice for you here."

"And hey, Cameron"-Cal could hear the good humor in the agent's voice-"in case I forget to tell you later, you two did a real good job. Thanks a bunch." The radio went silent and Cal handed it back to Jamie. Even as Jamie took it from him, the helicopter descended, whipping up the sand fiercely around them all. She handed the revolver to Cal, and he slipped it into his belt.

Now she was free to do what she'd been waiting for through all the excitement, and she opened the door, jumped out and raced for the van.

She slid the van's door open, expecting to find Mandy, frightened and cowering inside. Instead, there was no one. No one! She climbed into the vehicle and crouched helplessly at its center, looking around and around again, as though maybe if she looked one more time, Mandy would miraculously appear. As though maybe she'd made a mistake and not looked carefully enough. When her mind finally let it get through to her that Mandy wasn't there, she got out of the van fast and ran back to Cal just as the DEA chopper was setting itself onto the churned-up ground.

"Cal! Cal!" She grabbed his arm, demanding his attention. "Mandy's not there! She's not in the van!"

Agents were jumping from the helicopter, their guns drawn, and Cal was able to relax his guard on the three prisoners. In the midst of the engine's roar and the yelling of the agents and the whipping sands being blown by the helicopter's rotors, he had trouble making out what she was saying, but he saw in her face how frightened she was. He put an arm around her and put his mouth close to her ear.

"Take it easy, honey," he shouted. "What's happened?"

"I'm telling you, Cal! Mandy isn't in the van! She's gone!"

Jamie's eyes flashed wildly out to the black desert around them, invisible beyond their small, illuminated area. She pulled out of Cal's arm and ran to Ray.

"Where is she, Ray? What have you done with her?"

She paid no attention to the agent who was frisking Ray and handcuffing him. She grabbed her ex-husband by his jacket and turned him to face her.

"What happened to her?" She was screaming at him He stared blankly at her, obviously confused by her presence here at this desert rendezvous, and equally baffled by her questions. Ray was badly beaten, b.l.o.o.d.y, in serious pain, and plenty of trouble. He had enough to think about without focusing on Jamie and questions about Mandy.

"Jesus, how the h.e.l.l should I know? She was sleeping in the van." He looked over at Tina, who was also being handcuffed. "What happened to the kid, Tina? She was sleeping in the van, wasn't she?"

"How should I know?" Tina's responded sullenly, also concerned with her own problems as the agents prepared to take her away. "She's your kid. I told you we shouldn't have brought her."

They were being led away, and Ray called back to Jamie, over his shoulder.

"I don't know what happened to the kid. We stopped once, about five miles back. Maybe she got out then."

Cal couldn't believe their callousness.

Stupid sons of b.i.t.c.hes!

He saw Jamie's face, a white mask of panic. How much more of this nightmare could she take? As he put an arm around her, one of the agents approached him.

"Are you Cameron?" Cal nodded at him and the man held out a hand. "I'm Metzger," he said.

Cal saw a forty-ish man with thinning hair, the pouches of fatigue beneath his eyes emphasized by the helicopter's light flas.h.i.+ng brilliantly over their heads.

"Glad to meet you, Metzger."

"This was a close one," Metzger said, "but we pulled it off, the whole operation. The others are being picked up right this minute. Even as we speak." His words were triumphant but the worn, cynical expression on his face made them almost sarcastic. It didn't mean much to win one battle in this never-ending war. "We got a bunch of the big guys. In Park City. And in Vegas. A couple of other places. This here was a small piece of a much bigger operation. We're going to need you folks to come in and make a statement, give us some information."

Before Cal could answer, Jamie interrupted him.

"No. Not now. My little girl is missing. We've got to find her. We have to go."

"That's right," Cal said, backing her up. "What you could do for us, Mr. Metzger, on your way back, you could call the deputy sheriff in Sharperville. His name's Al Crosby. If we don't pick up the little girl's trail ourselves, we'll need a search-and-rescue team to start looking for her when daylight comes. He can start alerting the volunteers."

Briefly, Jerry Metzger focused his attention on Jamie. Sometimes he had to be reminded that there were other problems in the world besides breaking up the drug business.

"Sure thing. You've already done plenty to help us. I'll radio Crosby for you."

As he walked back to the helicopter, he called back to Jamie.

"I hope you find your little girl. It's a big desert out there."

The helicopter lifted up, twisting to the south, and Metzger was gone, leaving a couple of agents to guard the van and the plane until they could be examined for use as evidence. Later, flatbeds would take them away and soon the only sign of what had happened here in the desert would be the burn marks left in the sand.

In the sudden, dark emptiness, Jamie pressed close to Cal, trembling, feeling what was left of her control slipping away from her, as though her very breath and blood were draining out of her body. She was so frightened; she needed help so badly.

Cal's strong arms around her should have been a rea.s.surance and a comfort, but she could only stare wild-eyed, out into the night, cold now with the wind coming up. Far away, a pack of coyotes howled and Jerry Metzger's last words repeated themselves coldly in the dark.

"It's a big desert out there."

Chapter Twenty-three.

With the flare-fires burned down and the helicopter lights gone and the desert's evanescent s.h.i.+mmer not yet visible, Jamie looked out into the eyes of a pitiless, terrible reality. Somewhere in its silent s.p.a.ces, the desert was hiding Mandy from her, making no promise to keep her safe or even to return her at all. Jamie's mind seemed to have frozen and suddenly she was hollow-empty inside.

She took a few aimless steps, trying to think. "We could build a fire. If we make a big fire, she might see it."

She paced away from Cal, as though to look for firewood that might be strewn about, but she was seeing nothing. She circled back to him, distracted, and as he put his arms around her again, she burrowed briefly within their protection.

Oh, G.o.d. Help me. Please help me. I can't think. I can't think. I don't know what to do.

Even her skin felt numb and nerveless.

"No, wait," she said She pulled out of his arms one more time, walked away a little and then came back. "Ray said they stopped about five miles back. If we drive straight back the way he came, and make the fire there, we'd have a better chance of her seeing us."

"Good thinking," Cal said. "A fire's a good idea. That might just-"

She hadn't heard him; she was already climbing into the truck. She had no thought for what was in his mind.

Poor kid, Cal was thinking. She's going to eat herself up. And a fire may not be much help. h.e.l.l, Mandy may not even be able to see a fire. Most likely she's hidden herself away somewhere, scared and exhausted, probably fallen asleep by now, under some brush or behind the rocks.

Still, Jamie's going to go nuts if she doesn't take some kind of action and it couldn't hurt to build a fire. Who knows? It's a remote chance, but Mandy might see it.

a.s.suming she's still okay, of course. h.e.l.l, anything can happen to a little girl lost out in the desert at night. There are animals out there. Plenty of rattlesnakes. Wolves, even. Or, she could have taken a bad fall in the rocks. She could be caught in a crevice, maybe with a couple of bones broken.

She could be unconscious, or she could have gotten herself into some place that's too hard to find, or she's just too scared to call out.

In the lights of the truck he checked the rifle's breech to be sure it was empty.

I don't even want to think what might yet happen before we get to her, and there isn't a d.a.m.ned thing we can do until morning. Jamie's going to be a basket case by then. I guess building a fire's a good idea, help her feel she's got some control. Help her keep the panic down. Help her get through this.

Cal looked up into the scudding clouds and sent a few silent words into the sky.

Don't let this get really bad, okay? Let the little girl be safe. And please let Jamie come through it all right. Please?

Then he walked to the truck's door and reached in to set the rifle into the rack behind the seat.

"Why don't you drive, honey," he said. "This gimpy leg of mine could use a little rest."

He'd have used any excuse at all to give her something to do, and she didn't even answer him; she slipped right behind the steering wheel and had the truck in gear by the time he'd come around the front to the pa.s.senger side and hoisted himself up beside her. She'd turned it in a tight arc and was moving even before he had the door closed.

"I was thinking," she said, "maybe we could call the deputy." She was peering into the band of light that ran ahead of them like a broad line of pale, glowing yellow laid over the sage and reddish sand. Her stomach felt like a huge fist had grabbed it. "If Al Crosby got the message from Metzger, he might already have some information for us. Maybe Mandy's been found already. Maybe he could check at the Nixons' place, or even at the trailer. She could be waiting for us right now. Someone could even have taken her to my dad's."

She was grasping at any straw and they both knew it.

She stopped the truck when the odometer showed they'd traveled five miles. She left the headlights on, got out of the truck, stood inside the lights' glare and called out into the night. Several times, as loudly as she could.