Renewing Lost Love (4 page)

Melanie’s heart is breaking at the pain she
sees on Pinky’s face and hears in his voice. She lays her hand on
his arm and she says, “Pinky, this is not your fault! James Bixby
is the only one at fault here. He intentionally misled you into
believing she was dead. What’s important now is that we find her
and try to get her away from him! Let’s be thankful that Eric saw
that picture on the computer and recognized her. At least now you
know she is alive.”

Nodding his head, Pinky says, “You’re right,
Melanie. I’ve wallowed in self pity for fifteen years. It’s time
for me to take positive action. Thanks.”

He stands to leave but Melanie places her
hand on his arm interrupting his exit and asks, “What curse?”

Surprised because he didn’t even realize he
had mentioned the curse, Pinky explains, “Oh, my grandfather was
cursed by an old Creole woman years ago. According to the curse all
of his male descendents will be unhappy in love. At the time
Jasmine disappeared the curse seemed to be very potent and I
believed in it. I never even questioned her death.”

Melanie looks skeptically at Pinky and asks,
“You don’t still believe in all of the curse stuff, do you?”

Smiling Pinky says, “No, I understand now
that we are responsible for our own destinies. Thanks Melanie.” As
he walks out of the house and heads back to the office over the
barn he picks up his cell phone and calls his contact at the Bureau
of Alcohol, Tobacco, and Firearms in Washington DC. He wants them
to check with their operatives in the field to see if they can get
any information about James Bixby and where he might be living.

The ATF agent says, “What’s up Pinky? Why all
this interest in James Bixby? From what I’ve heard he’s just a peon
in the organization with no authority. He’s not even well liked by
the other members.”

Pinky explains, “I have reason to believe the
woman living with him was kidnapped from Louisiana fifteen years
ago. I want to try to get her back to her loved ones.”

The agent asks, “Really? Where did you get a
piece of information like that? We haven’t had any kidnapping
reports associated with the militia like that.”

Pinky answers, “You won’t find a report about
her being kidnapped. We always thought she died in the swamp, eaten
by a gator. I only recently found out she is alive and living with
Bixby in the militia compounds.”

The agent asks, “You sound like you know this
woman?”

Pinky says, his voice cracking, “I was
engaged to her when she disappeared.”

The agent says, “Ah ... that explains your
interest then. I’ll see what I can find out. How did you dig up a
piece of information like this?”

Pinky explains, “Eric Calloway saw our prom
picture on my computer and recognized her as having been at the
compound in Idaho. Melanie Farrady said she and Bixby left Idaho
before she escaped. She thought they were going to Montana, but we
don’t know for sure.”

“Give me a couple of days, I’ll find out what
I can,” says the agent.

******

It’s only late September but it is already
freezing cold in the mountains of the northwest corner of Montana
along the Idaho border. It feels like it could start snowing at any
time. I shiver inside my thin jacket as I hurry across the compound
to the cabin I share with James Bixby. I have been in the cooking
shack cleaning up from lunch and now I want to make sure there is
plenty of wood for the wood stove to keep the cabin warm.

This is the smallest of the three compounds
that James and I have ever lived in. Six men and three women share
the four cabins. With no running water or electricity life here is
very primitive. I long for a good long soak in a hot tub of water
but I know that won’t be happening any time soon. Ever since James
twisted my arm three weeks ago I haven’t been able to haul more
than small buckets of water from the creek and James is not about
to help with the women’s work. God, I hate that man! At least he
keeps the wood box full and food on the table, I can be grateful
for that much.

As I am hurrying across the compound I hear
James bellow, “Jasmine!”

“Here I am James, what do you want?” I call
back.

I follow James Bixby back to our cabin where
I help him find the backpack he is looking for. I ask, my heart
pounding, “Are you going somewhere?”

“Not me, us. We’re leaving here tomorrow. You
need to get everything packed tonight.”

“Why James, we just got here!” I am
distressed because I have felt relatively safe here, unlike the
other two compounds where we have lived. I only have to fear James
here.

“I said so! That’s all you need to know
Bitch!” growls James. “I suppose you’d rather stay here and become
the live-in whore for those two single guys. Well, you belong to
me, Jasmine, only me and don’t you forget it!”

A cold shiver runs down my spine at the anger
I hear in his voice. I begin gathering our things together and
stuffing everything into the boxes and bags we use every time we
move.

Bixby is standing beside the bed watching her
movements through hooded eyes. Damn but she is still a beautiful
woman and even after fifteen years he can’t seem to get his fill of
her. He interrupts her activities demanding, “Woman, get over here
and give your man some lovin’. I need for you to show me how much
you love me.”

I swallow the bile that automatically rises
in my throat. Forcing a smile to my face, I stop what I am doing
and walk across the cabin to where he is standing. I reach up
placing my arms around his thick neck and kiss him with the fake
enthusiasm I know he expects. I unbutton his flannel shirt running
my hands over his still muscular shoulders and down his chest
saying, “Oh, James, I love you so much!”

I kiss him again as I unfasten his pants and
let them fall to his ankles. Then I wrap my fingers around his
semi-flaccid shaft and caress him. I push him back toward the bed,
“Lay down Sugar Bear and let me love you.” When he sits down on the
bed, I remove his boots, then his pants and shirt.

Smiling lecherously as he looks at her from
the bed, James says, “Strip for me Jasmine, I like to watch you
strip.” As he watches her remove her clothes his hand is massaging
his limp shaft.

I stand in front of him and slowly remove my
clothes piece by piece moving provocatively pretending to be a
stripper, teasing him as I uncover each part of my body. When I am
naked I approach the bed but am stopped cold by his next words.

“Not so fast, I want you to suck me
Sugar.”

I look down at the floor so my hair forms a
veil shielding my face as I struggle to hide my revulsion. I sink
to the floor at his feet, again swallowing down the bile rising in
my throat.

As promised, two days after his original call
the ATF agent from Washington DC calls Pinky’s cell phone and he
answers, “Pinky.”

“Hey Pinky, I got that information you
wanted. After Bixby left the compound in Idaho he moved to one on
Flathead Lake in Montana. They stayed at the compound on Flathead
Lake for almost three years but left six months ago. No one seems
to know for sure where they went but it is thought they went to a
small compound on the Montana-Idaho border near Sandpoint. From
what I am told he is with a woman named Jasmine, long red hair,
about thirty.”

Pinky, his heart pounding with relief to know
she is still alive, says, “Well, at least that gives me a starting
point. Thanks for your help and let me know if you hear anything
else.”

The agent says, “Pinky, I need to warn you
that he was told to leave the compound at Flathead Lake because he
wouldn’t stop talking about retaliating against the men that killed
Darren Calloway. It seems that he wanted to be the one to kill
Calloway and you guys beat him to it. He has gathered as much
information as he can about where you guys live and how you
operate. If you’re patient he may come right to your door.”

Pinky asks, “Do you have any operatives at
the small compound near Sandpoint?”

The agent answers, “No, it is thought to be
two brothers and four other men including Bixby. They split off
from the original compound in Idaho where Calloway was in charge.
Evidently, these men all hated Calloway for one reason or another.
I don’t know if Bixby is trying to convince them to help him get to
you guys or not.”

“Do you have any information about what he
drives or how they travel?” asks Pinky.

The agent replies, “The only information I
have is from six months ago. He was driving a 1970’s era Chevy
pickup, blue and white with a camper on the back. Evidently he
stays in the camper when he’s on the road.”

“That’s good to know. Thanks,” responds
Pinky.

******

Pinky walks into the office, sits down at the
computer, and checks the weather in Sandpoint, Idaho. Heavy snow is
predicted overnight. Damn! A storm means he can’t fly to Idaho
tonight. He’ll have to wait until tomorrow and see what the weather
is like then.

Scoot seeing Pinky’s frustration says, “Hey
Pinky, what’s wrong? Is there anything I can do to help?”

Pinky looks up from the computer and says, “I
just got word that Bixby is thought to be at a compound near
Sandpoint, Idaho and I was checking the weather in the area. Heavy
snow is predicted for this afternoon and tonight so I can’t check
out the lead until tomorrow.” Hesitating only briefly, he says,
“Scoot, I need to let you know the ATF agent told me that Bixby is
planning on killing all of us. He is angry because we killed Darren
Calloway. I was told he has gathered as much information as he can
find about us, how we operate, and where we live.”

Scoot shakes his head, “Damn! What’s with
these people? We were only protecting Melanie and Eric.”

Pinky adds, “From what the agent said, he
wanted to kill Calloway himself. He was mad because Calloway
embarrassed him in front of the others at the compound in Idaho and
we took away his revenge. It sounds to me like he is crazy.”

Scoot says, “No kidding. Pinky, you know
we’re all in this with you, don’t you? We’ll help you rescue your
Jasmine just like we helped Barry rescue Melanie and you guys
helped me rescue Skye. I guess what I’m trying to say is, don’t do
anything foolish. Let’s make a plan and treat it like any of our
other operations. We want to make certain you are successful.”

Looking down at his hands, Pinky feels a warm
flush creeping up his chest and neck. He looks back at Scoot and
says, “Thanks Scoot, that means a lot to me. You guys are the
best.”

******

Early the next morning, James Bixby and
Jasmine Leblanc leave the compound near Sandpoint, Idaho headed
south through Montana. A foot of new snow fell overnight and the
roads are treacherous but that is not something that will stop
James Bixby.

Once he gets an idea in his head, nothing
stops him. I am scared to death and my knuckles are white where I
am gripping the seat of the truck. James is driving like a maniac
on the narrow, winding mountain roads.

After we have been driving for about an hour,
I ask, “Where are we going this time, James?”

Cutting his eyes toward me he answers,
“Wyoming, it’s time I took care of those bastards that killed
Calloway. Nobody else is willing to help, so I’ll do it
myself.”

******

Early the same morning, Pinky checks the
weather in Sandpoint and sees that the skies are clear. Checking
with Scoot to make sure it’s all right for him to use the
helicopter he heads to the helipad to prepare for his trip. Stump
approaches him and asks, “Say, Pinky, do you mind if I tag
along?”

“No, I’d appreciate the company. It will be
easier to spot the truck with two sets of eyes looking for it.”

“Great, I’ll just go grab my backpack. I’ll
be back in a minute,” says Stump.

He walks back to the office, bounds up the
stairs, and grabs his backpack out of his bedroom. As he passes
through the office he says, “Scoot, I’m going with Pinky. See you
in a few days.”

Scoot says, “That’s good, thanks Stump. Try
to keep him out of trouble please. I’ve never seen him so wound up
about anything before. It worries me.”

******

I breathe a sigh of relief when we finally
reach the valley and don’t have to drive on the narrow mountain
roads for a while. With the roads so icy I was scared we would
slide off a cliff and die

Since I am staring out the frosty side window
of the truck as we are driving along, I am startled by a loud boom
and then the truck rocks violently swerving sharply, the tires
squealing. I scream in fear, my heart pounding.

The truck bounces off the road through a
fence and across a pasture. Holding tightly to the dash and the
seat, I glance over at James and see him desperately trying to gain
control of the truck and keep it from overturning.

He screams, “Damn! Damn! Damn!” When the
truck finally comes to a stop we are a good hundred yards off of
the road, down a slight incline and resting up against a tree on
the driver’s side. A huge tree limb is sticking through the front
windshield separating my side of the truck from James’. I say a
quick prayer of thanks that whatever caused this accident that it
happened here and not in the mountains.

James evidently hit his head against the side
window because he appears to me to be unconscious. I can see blood
running down the window from the side of his head and his hands are
lying limply in his lap. I can’t tell from where I am if the tree
limb has him pinned or not.

I am torn. Should I stay and help James or
go? This may be my only opportunity to get away from him. I don’t
really have the proper clothes to be traipsing across the country
in the snow, but I may never get another chance to escape.

Making my decision I climb out of the truck
and move to the camper where I grab James’ spare pair of boots. I
slide my feet into them over my tennis shoes to help them fit
better and grab a couple of the blankets and the bread and peanut
butter. I hurry back to the road and start walking as fast as I can
in the same direction we were driving. I walk the rest of the day
only resting for short periods trying to put as much distance
between me and James Bixby as possible. Every time a car approaches
I hide in the trees along the side of the highway to avoid being
seen.