Heaven's Keep (39 page)

“To get away?”

“Get away to what? The woman he loved is dead. He’s given up his ranch. And I keep thinking about that note. Unfinished business. What business?”

“I hope to God we have a chance to ask him,” Parmer said.

In the rain and without moonlight or even the ambient light of the stars, they were nearly blind. Parmer, just a few feet away, was almost invisible. Only from the occasional snort and the clap of a shoe on an exposed stone did Cork know where the horses were hobbled.

“Cork?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you really believe it’s possible Jo’s still alive?”

Cork didn’t answer.

“I mean, where would he have kept her all this time?”

“I don’t know what’s possible anymore. I couldn’t have imagined that anyone would survive what happened in Bodine’s plane, but she did.”

“Could she be his unfinished business?”

“I wish I knew, Hugh. I wish to Christ I knew. Let’s get some sleep.”

He pulled his blanket around him but didn’t sleep immediately. He spent a long time staring into a dark that was full of things unknown.

In the night, the drizzle turned to snow, and in the morning, in a shroud of falling white, the two men rose, donned their body armor, mounted their horses, and continued after Nightwind.

They rode through the day without incident, the whole time in snowfall. Periodically they stopped to rest the horses, but only briefly. In the afternoon, the snow came down harder and a wind kicked up. The blowing mess cut their field of vision to less than a hundred yards. Nightwind’s tracks became harder to follow. Cork knew that the snow and the clouds would bring an early dark, and he was worried he would lose his quarry. Every hour or so, he or Parmer tried to raise Kosmo on the radio, to no avail. They both understood that until the weather cleared they were cut off and alone.

Late in the afternoon, they came to a stream that issued from what appeared to be a deep canyon. The tracks of Nightwind’s horse led beside the stream and into the canyon.

Parmer checked the map. “Dead-ends a couple miles farther.”

Cork balked at following the tracks. In a canyon, if Nightwind knew he was being followed, it would be easy for him to establish a vantage above and pick them off. And the dead end was doubly disconcerting. Cork’s natural inclination was to climb to higher ground and try to track from above. But if he did that, he might lose Nightwind for good and in doing so lose any hope of finding Jo.

“We split up here,” he finally said. “You head up, follow the rim. I’ll stay below with the stream.”

Parmer looked ahead into the canyon. “If he’s going to jump you, this is where he’ll do it.”

“It’s where I’d do it,” Cork agreed.

“If that happens, do your best to keep him busy,” Parmer said. “I’ll get behind him as fast as I can. If you hit the end of the canyon and nothing’s gone down, backtrack and I’ll meet you here and we can figure what to do next.”

They shook hands. Parmer turned his horse up the slope and began to mount toward the canyon rim. Cork made sure the magazine on his Savage 110 was full, and he chambered a round. He cradled the rifle across his lap and urged his horse ahead at a walk.

In the protection of the canyon, the wind ceased to be a problem, but the snow still dropped a translucent curtain all around. Above him, the rock walls, dotted with juniper and scrub brush and jumbles of broken rock, rose up and disappeared in the snowfall. The ground snow was deeper here, sometimes reaching midway to the horse’s knees, and the only sign of the trail was the mess left by the passage of Nightwind. Judging from the lack of drift in the prints, Cork figured the man wasn’t far ahead.

Fifteen minutes into the canyon, the trail ended abruptly. The prints of Nightwind’s horse simply stopped. The snow ahead was unmarred, as if the man Cork had been tracking had vanished into thin air. He realized that Nightwind had backtracked and was behind him.

He spun his horse just as the first shot came. Cork felt a club hit him in the middle of his chest, and he was knocked from the saddle. He hit the ground and his horse charged back the way it had come. Cork lay facedown in the snow, still as death. His chest hurt like hell, but the Kevlar vest Kosmo had provided him had stopped a round that would have pierced his heart. He waited, barely breathing. Finally he heard the crunch of Nightwind’s boots in the snow. The man stopped a couple of feet away.

“Christ,” Nightwind said. “Didn’t I warn you?”

He stepped closer and knelt. He laid his rifle in the snow and slid his hands under Cork’s body to turn him faceup. Cork made his move. As he rolled over, he reached up and grabbed Nightwind’s coat. He caught the man off guard and flung him easily to the ground. Not two feet away from Cork lay the rifle. He snatched it up and swung the barrel toward Nightwind, who’d scrambled to a crouch and was about to launch himself.

“Move and you’re the dead man,” Cork said.

Nightwind froze. He studied Cork, his body tensed while he weighed his options. Finally he relaxed, abandoned his crouch, and stood to his full height. “Now what?”

Cork rose to his feet, keeping the rifle trained dead center on Nightwind’s chest. “Now you tell me about my wife.”

“And then what?”

“Then I take you back.”

Nightwind shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“You’re not in a position to bargain.”

“On the contrary, I’ve got what you want most and I don’t intend to give it to you without getting what I want in return.”

“Which is what?”

“You let me go.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Then your wife is lost to you forever.”

Cork said, “Not necessarily. Right now I’m thinking I might string you up and have a go at you the same way you did Gully.”

Again Nightwind shook his head. “Uh-uh. That’s not you, O’Connor.”

“You have no idea what I’m capable of. Especially where my wife is concerned.”

“I know you love her and I know how that feels. My whole life Ellyn’s been everything to me. Whatever I’ve done and tried to do it was for her. That freedom I’m asking you for, it’s about her and about love.”

“How so?”

“Why do you think I headed into these mountains? Just to run?
Hell, I’ve got nothing to run to. Everything I care about is gone. Ellyn. My ranch. A future. I figured up here I could regroup and then go after the men who killed Ellyn because I’m damn sure they’ll be coming after me. It would have been easier for me if you hadn’t crippled my planes.”

“You already took care of the men who killed Ellyn. Gully and Mike.”

Nightwind laughed, a bitter sound. “I’m talking about the men behind all this, the ones really responsible for Ellyn dying. Mike and Gully were nothing. They were like tools in a shed, used to get the dirty work done. No, the guys I’m after, the guys pulling all the strings, with their money and their power, they’re going to be almost impossible to get to. But I know who they are and I know how to get to them. And swear to God I’m going to make them pay. You think Gully suffered, that was nothing.”

“Tell me who they are. The law will get them.”

“The law is a turtle. This needs to be finished quickly.”

“How do you know these men?”

“I’ve done jobs for them over the years.”

“You brought them to Ellyn?”

“Yeah.” He didn’t seem happy about admitting it. “She was desperate. The little casino in Hot Springs, it was going nowhere, and building it put the rez deep in debt. These people, they were drooling to get their claws into an Indian casino, and they have the money to make a huge project happen. She thought it was the way to help the Arapaho. She was afraid Little Bear’s plan would end up with the big oil companies fucking the land and the people on it because that’s the way it’s always ended. I told her these men were dangerous, but she was sure she could handle them. Fact is, she wasn’t doing too bad until you came along.”

“Whose idea was it to get rid of Little Bear on the charter flight? Yours?”

“We worked it out together. With some help from Gully and Mike.”

“Ellyn couldn’t persuade him any other way?”

“He couldn’t be bought. And he was too old to be swayed anymore
by her other obvious charms. Me, I was happy just to get him out of the picture.”

“Yeah, and how’d it feel murdering all those people, murdering Sandy Bodine?”

“I’ve killed men before, O’Connor. From what I’ve been told, you have, too, so don’t go all sanctimonious on me. We both had our reasons.”

“What did you do with Bodine’s body?”

“Burial at sea, so to speak. On my way to Aurora, I flew over Lake Superior and dumped him. You know what they say about that lake? Never gives up her dead.”

“What about Stilwell?”

“That wasn’t my doing. Mike and Gully said they sank the body in a bog somewhere in the Wisconsin woods. God only knows where.” Nightwind eyed him levelly. “So how about it? You going to let me go?”

The wind sent snow between them and against them, and Cork felt the cold kiss of it on his face.

“How do I explain it to the wives of the men who died on that charter plane? How do I explain it to Becca Bodine?”

“Tell ’em you did it for love. They’ll understand.”

“And if I let you go, you’ll tell me where my wife is?”

“That’s the deal.”

“How do I know I can trust you?”

“Same goes for me. As soon as you have what you want, what’s to prevent you from shooting me? Mexican standoff, O’Connor.”

Nightwind grinned, lifted his hand as if it were a gun, and pointed it at Cork.

The shot came from behind Cork and above him. Nightwind’s body jerked with the impact of the round, and he looked startled, then his knees buckled and he dropped to the ground and lay bleeding into the snow. Cork went to him quickly. Nightwind stared up into his face and blinked several times as if stunned.

“Lame?”

Nightwind grunted. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t come alone.”

Cork heard the scrape of boot sole on rock, and a moment later
Hugh Parmer was at his side holding the Weatherby he’d taken from Nightwind’s ranch.

“Why did you shoot?” Cork said angrily.

“I thought he was going to shoot you.”

“He didn’t have a weapon, Hugh.”

“I thought…” Parmer looked at the wounded man’s empty hand. “Christ, I couldn’t see. The snow, Cork.”

Nightwind coughed blood. “Looks like neither of us gets what we wanted, O’Connor.”

Cork set his rifle down and gently lifted Nightwind and cradled his head. “Lame, I swear to God I’ll deliver these men to justice. Just tell me who they are. Tell me where my wife is.”

Nightwind breathed with great difficulty, and a sickening rattle came from deep in his throat. He said, “You love her, O’Connor, and love’s brought you a far piece. This is hard country. It’s full of hard men, but you bested them all. There’s a good deal in you to admire. If love was everything, you’d have what you came for. But there’s one thing love can’t do. It can’t give you back the dead. You won’t see your wife again. Not in this life.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“She’s been dead since almost the beginning.”

“If she’s dead, where’s her body?”

“A place you’ll never find without my help.”

“Tell me.”

Nightwind struggled for breath, then said, “Give me your promise you’ll go after these men. Even if the law can’t get to them, you will.”

“You have it.”

“Something to write with? I don’t want you to forget.”

Parmer pulled out his wallet and plucked a piece of paper from among the folded currency. He dug inside his coat and drew out the pencil stub.

As Nightwind spoke, Parmer wrote down the information he provided, which was the name of the place Cork would find Jo, the names of the three men responsible, the name of a bank in Denver, and the number of a safe-deposit box there.

“In the box,” Nightwind said. “All the evidence you need to get these guys. Been gathering it for years. Insurance policy, you know? Photos, tape recordings, records. Your wife. Others before her. It’s all there. In the hands of a good prosecutor, it’ll put these assholes in the gas chamber, I swear it.” He grabbed hold of Cork’s coat sleeve. “Get them, O’Connor. Promise me you’ll get them.”

“I promise.”

Nightwind let go.

Parmer handed the paper over, and Cork read the name of the place where Nightwind had said he would find his wife. He was baffled.

“Bonita, Mexico?” he asked.

“In Sonora,” Nightwind said, nearly breathless.

“I don’t understand.”

“You will.”

Parmer said, “Maybe we can bind your wound, Lame.”

Nightwind shook his head. “It’s over. Just let me go.”

Cork told Parmer to round up the horses. Parmer looked down at Nightwind. Then he looked at the rifle he’d used to fire the fatal bullet. Finally he turned and walked away into the snow to find the horses.

It wasn’t exactly over. Nightwind lingered for another hour. He spoke no more and struggled simply to breathe. Cradled in Cork’s arms, he stared up at the falling snow, and when the snow stopped and the wind blew the clouds away he stared up at an evening sky filling with stars. The canyon ran near the foot of Heaven’s Keep, and the great formation stood white and imperious in the last light of day. At the very end, just before Nightwind took his final ragged breath, his eyes drifted to the cold face of rock, and it seemed to Cork that a sense of satisfaction settled over Lame Deer Nightwind, as if he’d just been given the answer to a great question. Afterward Cork followed the dead man’s gaze to the top of Heaven’s Keep, which appeared to be among the stars themselves, and he thought that maybe if he climbed there he could look into the face of God and understand all the tragedy that had brought him to that place.

But in his head he knew that he would never climb. And in his heart he doubted that he would ever understand.

I
t was an old Spanish mission, whitewashed stucco, set amid saguaro cacti and creosote bushes, with the Sierra Madres in the distance under a cloudless blue sky. Blooming bougainvillea climbed the courtyard walls, and the flowers of a large garden grew in the shade of desert willows. At the center was a fountain bubbling softly.