Staring down on us from the forty-foot-high crest of crumbling earth stood a girl—fifteen, maybe sixteen years old. Hell, what little I knew of young girls at the time, she could’ve been a lot older or a lot younger.
Gal swayed like a creekside weeping willow in the hot breezes that hissed over the sun-scorched earth beneath her feet. Wisps of shoulder-length, straw-colored hair fluttered across a pretty, grime-smeared face. Her flowered cotton dress flapped around equally filth-encrusted legs.
Under my breath, I mumbled, “Lord above, Boz. Looks as if she’s trying to chew a thumbnail all the way up to her elbow. Snapping and biting like a rabid dog. Spitting out the bits.”
His flabbergasted gaze locked on the ghostly, ethereal apparition, Tatum shook as though in the throes of malaria and muttered, “Sweet merciful Jesus, how’s this possible?”
Air rushed from between clenched teeth when I hissed, “Looks most like the child’s been living underground. Killers had to have missed her. She escaped. Found a hidey-hole somewhere close, I’d be willing to wager.” Pretty sure I might’ve sounded as if I was questioning my own reasoning.
Boz moved to take a step in the specter’s direction only to witness the girl turn and vanish from view. By unspoken agreement, we heeled it for a steep, slanted wash nearby. The craggy, earthen cut was the only ascending access within close proximity that led to the crest of the dirt bluff.
I managed to scramble to the sheer bank’s disintegrating summit a few steps ahead of Boz. A quick survey of the rough, table-like expanse of Turkey Mesa, as it spread away from the river, revealed that the child had scampered near a hundred yards, stopped, then stared back at us again.
Boz huffed and puffed his way to a spot beside me. Wheezing from the unexpected exertion, he sucked air like a winded racehorse. He waved and, between gasping breaths, called out, “You come on back now, girl. Won’t harm you. We’re here to help.” He got no response.
I shrugged, then said, “We’d best go round her up, Boz.”
Soon as we started her direction again, the urchin bolted like a frightened deer. For half an hour the fleeing child scuttled over the rock-strewn, rattlesnake-, cactus-, and scorpion-littered landscape with us clumsily clambering along behind. The chase finally brought us to the entrance of an ugly, deep, funnel-like gash in the earth’s hoary hide. An abbreviated, canyon-like wound that our prey had no chance of escaping.
At the bottom of the narrow ravine, the cornered waif wedged her back against the fissure’s farthest and highest wall. Arms flung wide against her earthen prison, she crawfished from side to side in agitated terror. Let out a piteous howl, like some kind of wounded, terrified animal.
Eyes the size of ten-dollar gold pieces and panic-deepened to a shade of blue near those of a pharmacist’s cobalt-colored drug bottles, she glared up at Boz and me from the floor of her dusty refuge. The angry, defiant, and sullen look etched into her panicky visage appeared fully capable of wringing tears from a Civil War veteran’s glass eye.
Of a sudden, the girl seemed to mine the depths of some unseen inner strength and assumed the stance of an ancient, witchy crone. She made strange, incomprehensible sounds and gestures at us. Things that didn’t sound of this earth came from her mouth. Then, in a voice sheathed in ice and death, she growled, “Come down here, and I’ll kill both you sons a bitches.”
My God, but her surprising, raspy warning sent icy shivers up and down my sweaty spine.
10
“MY DADDY DIDN’T RAISE ANY COWARDS . . .”
I MOTIONED FOR my out-of-breath partner to stay put. Then, one careful, hesitant step at a time, I advanced on the agitated child. Held my hands out, palms upturned in supplication. And, in the manner one might use when speaking to a frightened animal, said, “No need to be scared, girl. Not gonna hurt you. Swear, we’re not gonna hurt you.”
The troubled youngster flashed a bug-eyed, brittle gaze at me that was filled with needle-pointed daggers. A tormented groan reverberated in her narrow, heaving, child’s chest. From somewhere amidst the folds and pleats of her tattered, print dress, she produced a glistening, heavy-bladed butcher’s knife. The wooden-gripped weapon’s curved, razor-sharp edge gleamed in the advancing sunlight that sloshed into the narrow pit from above.
Cracked, chapped lips peeled away from the trembling gal’s teeth in a snarling scowl. As though speaking from the bottom of an empty rain barrel, she growled, “Don’t you come any closer, mister. Not another step. Get near enough, swear I’ll cut your heart out, if I get the chance. I swear before sainted Jesus, I will. I’ll do it. I will. I will kill you graveyard dead.”
In spite of all efforts to the contrary, I couldn’t help but smile. Drew to a rocking halt, leaned back on my heels, and cocked my head to one side. “Now, now, no need for that, miss,” I said. “Can promise you, Boz Tatum yonder and me are friends. Could well be the best friends you’ve got right at this unfortunate juncture. Rest assured we have no intention of doing you any harm.”
For a single, bullet-fast instant, unanswerable questions appeared to flit around behind her confused, darting, trapped-animal’s gaze. One cheek twitched when she snapped back, “You expect me to believe that load of horse manure, mister? After you and your gang rode up from the river in the early morning dark and. ...” A racking sob shook her from head to foot before she gasped, “And murdered my parents.”
Hands in the classic gesture of surrender, I said, “No one here had anything to do with your family’s terrible passing, miss. Before God, I swear it. Me and Boz live not far down the river. We run a little bit of a horse-raising operation, for the immediate time being anyways. All the shooting woke us before the sun got up good. Came on quick as we could. Deeply regret as how we didn’t make the trip as fast as we probably should’ve. Just had no idea of the urgency.”
Face covered in a layer of sweat, muddied with the powdery red dust of west Texas, she gritted her teeth so hard it sounded like a squirrel breaking walnuts. She sliced the knife back and forth through the sultry air. A single, enormous tear formed in the corner of one eye. The salty pearl bled onto her twitchy cheek and carved a tiny gully through the dirt down to the edge of a grime-caked jaw. Jewel-like droplet hung there for a second, then fell onto her heaving breast.
“How do I know you’re telling me the truth?” she yelped. “I got away during all the confusion. Went back when I thought you and your men had finally ridden away.”
Shook my head. “Wasn’t me or Boz,” I said. “Can’t say it enough. We had nothing to do with what happened earlier this morning.”
“Well, say what you will, I saw what evil men did to my parents. Oh, God, all that shooting scared me so ...” A racking sob sawed its way through the girl’s body. She rubbed bitter tears on the upper part of a dirty arm. “So much noise and confusion. I ran. Couldn’t stay. Ran until I found this spot to hide myself in.”
“You don’t have to run, or hide, anymore, child,” I said. “We’re not here to hurt you.”
Her face twisted into a mask of deeper fear and pain. “I’m still not sure what happened to my little brothers. Don’t know exactly what has become of them.” Then as though speaking to someone not there, she mumbled, “I suppose it’s likely they died in just as dreadful a manner as my poor mother and father.”
Not much I could’ve added to her brutal assessment. So I just kept silent and waited.
Then, of a sudden, she crow-hopped sidewise, stumbled, but regained her footing. She waved the knife at me again. The haggard look of stark terror and puzzlement on her pretty face intensified as she said, “For all I know, you could just be spinning a windy whizzer, mister. Just so I’ll give up my only weapon. Only thing I’ve got to protect myself. Perhaps my only salvation.”
In a voice tinged with sadness and understanding, Boz called out from his spot at the mouth of the ravine, “Oh, no, child. The man’s tellin’ the truth. My friend Lucius Dodge don’t lie. Honestly, we come here to help.”
The panicked girl’s nervous eyeballing flicked from one of us to the other. Then, she growled like a kicked dog.
“Broke our hearts when we found your ill-fated kin,” Boz continued. “ ’Specially them poor buttons. Took us the most part of the mornin’ to make sure they was all properly cared for. Even put God on notice as how their immortal souls ’uz comin’ his direction. Now, why don’t you lay that big ole gut cutter aside, come on back to the ranch with us?”
I took a hesitant step or two toward the tormented child’s defensive position. Drew to a halt just a few feet away from her. Offered an open-palmed hand and then said, “Believe me, you’re safe now, darlin’. Truly, there’s no
