No Mercy Part 39

"I'm serious."

"I am, too, friend. The truth is, I sort of went off on him when I found out Trey's been his employee for the last year."

"You didn't know?"

"Not a clue." I brooded into my coffee cup. "Does it make you wonder who else is in his employ?"

"Yeah. Kit hasn't been telling anyone, even the people who work for him, who his investors are."

"So Trey doesn't know?"

"Nope. Neither does Laronda."

"You asked her?"

"In a manner of speaking."

Part of me wondered how far Dawson had gone to pump Laronda for information.

"Evidently Kit thinks I'm the only thing standing between him and owning the ranch."

"All the more reason to watch out for him. He's up to something."

I stood and refilled my cup. "I can handle Kit no problem."

His chair sc.r.a.ped on the linoleum. From behind me he said, "I recognize the dismissal, so I'll drop it for now. But if you need to talk, you know where to find me, okay?"

"Okay." That was surprisingly easy.

"I have to go home and change before going into the office. Can Jake or Sophie give you a ride to your truck?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it."

"Can I get one for the road?"

I set down my cup and rummaged in the cupboard. "I don't know if we have any Styrofoam cups with lids, Dawson."

He turned me around. "I wasn't talking about coffee." Then his mouth came down on mine hard and he kissed the living daylights out of me.

I could scarcely breathe when he finally pulled back.

"Mercy Gunderson, you make me lose my ever-lovin' mind."

Dawson left without another word, which was good because I was pretty speechless anyway.

An hour later, I looked up from the Tri-State Livestock News when Jake said, "I'm borrowing the truck for a little while today. I need to haul the ATVs over to Bernie's place. They're running like a pack of crippled old dogs."

"How about if I do it and save you the trip? I wanted to talk to him anyway about Axel, and this'll give me a reason to show up."

"Sure." Jake didn't demand to hear my plans, wasn't his way, but I sensed his curiosity. "Another thing. Queenie's back in the old barn. We need to talk about options with her. She's old and that sore on her leg ain't healing. The vet's done everything he can."

No one wanted to put down a horse, least of all Jake. "Whatever you think. You know I trust your judgment with the livestock." I paused. "Where are the other horses?"

"TJ and Luke are keeping them at their place. With the ATVs out of commission they'll need them for a couple of days."

I pushed back from the table. "Let's get them loaded up and I'll try my luck with Bernie."

About two thousand barking dogs greeted me as I pulled up to Bernie's Repair Shop. The place was as junk filled and badly maintained as I'd expected-maybe a little worse. The shop itself was in better shape than the residence, a cobbled-together configuration of two trailers circa 1950.

A line of cars stretched from the start of the gravel driveway to the metal building housing the shop. I couldn't tell if the building was intentionally that hideous shade of orange or if it'd been overrun by rust and naturally faded into an ugly pumpkin color. I backed the trailer to the biggest garage door.

Small tractors, ATVs, mowers in various states of disrepair were scattered like random victims of a machine apocalypse. I shooed the dogs off as I hopped out of the truck. The tailgate hinges on the trailer squeaked as I dropped the loading ramps to the ground.

Bernie showed up as I released the tie-downs. "Morning, Bernie. I don't believe we've met. I'm Mercy Gunderson." I didn't offer my hand, knowing he wouldn't shake it anyway. "Jake Red Leaf called you about taking a look at these?"

"Uh-huh. Which one is the throttle sticking on?" Bernie asked.

"I don't know. I was on my way into town and got roped into being the delivery person." Nice fib. I turned and caught my first good look at Bernie Rouillard. Typical Lakota man-his age was difficult to discern, somewhere between forty and sixty. He was tall and gangly with ridges and b.u.mps on his face, due to fighting, teenage acne, and genetics. His black hair was chopped into a bowl style, which was unflattering even beneath his stained "Screaming Eagles" ball cap. Made me think of Josiah Hightower. I hoped this talk would be less cryptic than that one.

Bernie climbed into the trailer and popped the first machine into neutral and rolled it to the ground. He repeated the process with the second machine as I stood by the door.

"You gotta come in and sign a work order."

"No problem." I followed him inside the small, windowless office. "So Axel is your son?"

"Uh-huh."

"He was friends with my nephew."

"Uh-huh."

"Levi talked about him."

Scribble scribble on the work-order tablet on the desk.

"In fact, I was at the Eagle River Community Center the other night, but I didn't see Axel hanging out with Moser, Little Bear, and that crowd."

"That's because he don't have nothing to do with any of them no more."

"Really? How'd he manage that?"

Bernie shrugged.

I'm sure he expected me to drop my mostly one-sided conversation. I figured as long as I occasionally tossed in tidbits about upcoming repairs, he had no choice but to hear me out. The Gunderson Ranch paid in cash, paid on time, and I doubted he'd want to lose the income.

"Jake told me to tell you someone will be dropping the riding mower by later this week."

"That mean you leaving the trailer here?"

"Yep." I paused. "So Axel doesn't have anything to do with the Warrior Society?"

"Nope."

"Was that your suggestion? Or his decision?"

Bernie snorted. "That boy don't listen to no one, least of all me. Jake say when he needed these machines done?"

"In the next couple days."

He handed me the receipt. "Tell him I'll be in touch. Have a good day." Bernie swapped his ball cap for a welding mask on the desk and disappeared into the bowels of the shop. A deafening machine kicked on, distorting the air, followed by a steady flash of bluish-white light.

Talk about being dismissed. I left the office and tossed the tie-downs in the truck bed, dislodging the beer cans from the night at the dance; they were somehow still rolling around in the back of the pickup like macabre souvenirs.

I thought of Levi and the connection we'd finally forged that night. The feeling of loss made me angrier than ever. Why was I being stonewalled at every turn? Because of my gender? Because I wasn't all Indian? Because of my father's connection to law enforcement? Or was it something else? G.o.d. I knew how Dawson felt-inept and like an outsider. I slammed the door hard and smacked the steering wheel with the heels of my hands. "G.o.ddammit!"

"My dad gets that reaction a lot," came from the pa.s.senger's side of the truck.

Startled, I whirled toward the kid crouched on the floorboard, clutching an enormous backpack. My eyes narrowed. "Axel?"

"Yeah. You're Mercy. Levi Arpel's aunt, right?"

"What are you doing stowed away in my truck?"

"I need a ride to town."

"Why don't you ask your dad?"

"He's busy welding or some such s.h.i.+t."

I laughed. "Nice try. If you're gone, your dad will blame me."

"No, he won't. He'll think I called my ma and she picked me up on the road. She does it all the time so she don't gotta talk to him. Besides, it ain't like I'm a prisoner. I can come and go when I want."

"Yeah?" I gave him my best no-bulls.h.i.+t stare. "That's why you're hiding on the floor instead of sitting on the seat?"

"Okay, I am sneaking off. Dad wants me to stick around and help him. I got stuff to do today." Axel licked his lips. "I heard you asking him questions."

"So?"

"So if you give me a ride to town, I'll give you some answers."

I cranked the key so fast it almost snapped in the ignition.

When we cleared the tree line, Axel popped up like a gopher out of a hidey-hole. "Thanks."

I shot him a sideways glance. Scrawny kid. Probably took a rash of c.r.a.p for being small. With his smooth skin and slight frame he seemed younger than Levi and the others. "I don't see any reason to beat around the bush, Axel. Tell me about the Warrior Society."

Axel recited what I already knew, almost by rote. But slowly, as if he expected to drag it out until we reached town and he'd make his escape without really giving me any new information.

Screw that. I jammed on the brakes and the back end skidded. "Enough bulls.h.i.+t. I've heard this. I want to know how you managed to leave the group when no one else could."

He slumped in his seat. "Because of Albert. He started running away. His ma called my ma and blabbed some of what Albert had told her about the group. Even though my folks are divorced, Ma talked to Dad and they both forbid me from partic.i.p.ating."

"And you quit just because they demanded it?"

"I didn't have a choice. I'm the youngest in the group, and I don't got a car or a cell phone. I didn't want to seem like a p.u.s.s.y or a little kid to them, so I told everyone I thought it was a stupid group, against tradition, and that's why I wanted to quit."

"But you didn't believe it was?"

"At first, it was really cool to be a part of it. Part of them. But then..." Axel studied his fingernails. "Then it changed when they came around. When school got out, my ma sent me to Rapid City to live with my cousins for the summer, so I really didn't have a choice."

"So why are you back here now? This isn't a safe place to be."

No answer.

I kept pus.h.i.+ng. "I can't believe if your parents sent you away before any of your friends were killed that they'd let you come back now." Ping. Lightbulb moment. "They don't know you're here, do they?"

Axel shook his head. "I heard what happened to Sue Anne. Freaked me out. I needed to get back here. My cousin's buddy was coming to the rez, and he gave me a ride. Dropped me off on the road and I hid out in Dad's shop. I was gonna call one of my friends to pick me up, but I heard you were headed into town and I thought I'd hitch a ride."

Kid probably heard the desperation in my voice as I'd tried to talk to his father. Truth was: I was desperate and wasn't about to blow this opportunity. "Fine. I won't turn around and take you straight back to your dad if you tell me something."

"What?"

"Who are the leaders of the group?"

Silence. He wouldn't even look at me.

"I'm not kidding, Axel. Tell me."

Axel spun in his seat. "Or you'll what? Dump me out here and make me walk to town? Shee. Wouldn't be the first time I had to walk. Nothing you threaten me with is as scary as what they'll do to me if they find out I talked to you."

"Yeah? Maybe being seen with me in town is all it'd take to tip them off that you and I were chatting, so why don't we skip the secret bulls.h.i.+t pact and you tell me what I want to know."

He blanched. "You were the one."

"One what?"

"The one who got Sue Anne to talk. You're the reason she's dead."

That statement ratcheted my guilt up another notch and I lashed out. "Wrong, I wasn't the one who slit her throat. They did. And they'll do it again. Maybe to you."

"You don't feel a bit guilty for getting her killed, do you?"

My patience shattered. I grabbed him by the s.h.i.+rtfront and shook him. "You have no idea what I feel. No idea what it's like to see that girl carved up and covered in blood and discarded like garbage. They bound and gagged her and left her to bleed to death on my porch. My porch, Axel. I couldn't help her. I couldn't save her. Just like I couldn't save my nephew. And I'll be G.o.dd.a.m.ned if I'll sit around and watch these s.a.d.i.s.tic f.u.c.king... murderers kill anyone else...." My voice cracked and trailed off when I noticed his eyes were wide with fear.

I released him abruptly, sucker-punched by shame. Bullying a young kid wasn't the answer to any questions. Ever. I slammed the truck back in gear, hating that I'd probably brought this dead end upon myself by violence and intimidation.

Axel broke the silence in the cab when we were on the outskirts of town. "Stop here."