“I don’t know what I want anymore,” he said, setting his spoon down and placing his hand on top of hers. “I miss my boys. I just don’t understand it. I got a sense that Bruce wasn’t lying. He had no reason to kill Ryland.” He paused. “Ten years. That’s the longest our families have ever gone without issue. Why would he jeopardize that peace?”
“I wish I knew. Maybe if you had listened instead of putting a bullet in him, we could have avoided burying three of our own.”
“You want to blame me?”
“Of course not. I’m just angry.” She lifted her head and sighed. “Angry at the way things have played out. Angry at Luke. Angry at Seth. Angry at you. I’m just so tired of being angry, Hank. I want peace, not war. We have enough on our plate to deal with. I want the rest of our family to stay alive, for goodness’ sakes!” she said, tears welling in her eyes.
“What do you want me to do, Ruth?” Hank asked. He genuinely meant it. If she’d said let’s move, he would have done it in a heartbeat. But she didn’t. Her answer was interrupted by Faye, one of his daughters. “Father. Martha Riker is here.”
“Here?” He shifted his chair back and it screeched against the rough stone floor. No Riker had ever approached their house. They’d driven by. Hurled insults. But like them, they had always given their territory a wide berth.
“Hank,” Ruth said in an admonishing way.
“It’s okay.” He walked out onto the porch to see Martha approaching on a horse. He scanned the tree line, searching for her kin. Was this an ambush? Some form of payback for what had happened to Miriam? She was a bold woman. Far more fearless than Bruce ever was. She looked like Little Red Riding Hood with a red cloak that covered her body and a hood that concealed that stone-cold face. Martha stopped short of the home and threw back her hood to reveal those silvery dreadlocks. Her eyes scanned them. No fear. No hint of her intentions. “Hank. Ruth.” She gave a nod. “I wish to pass on my condolences for your loss.”
“For our loss?” Hank scoffed. “I buried three of my boys. Good boys they were.”
“I’m not here to question their morals. I’m here for a truce.”
“A truce?”
“Yes, now that you have the one who murdered your children.”
“No, the law does and I hardly think he acted alone.”
“I have his word he did, and I passed on that evidence to the sheriff.”
“You turned in your kin? Bruce’s brother?” Ruth asked.
“I did.”
“Bullshit,” Seth said.
She eyed him with contempt. “You can ask Dan.”
He was baffled. There was no way on the face of the earth a Riker would willingly hand over one of their own, especially if they were responsible for the death of a Strickland. Even after hearing what Seth and the others had done to Miriam, he wouldn’t have turned them in. They were family. All he had.
“Why?”
“You’re asking why after three of your sons are dead? It’s obvious, is it not?” Her gaze roamed their faces. “We can continue to shed blood or we can stop now before all of your family is dead.”
“Our family?” He chuckled. “You think it would be us lying dead?”
“You’ve buried four, we’ve buried one.”
He stepped off the porch. “Well, I can even that out for you if you like.”
“Hank!” Ruth said, sidling up to him and placing her hand on his arm as he went for his gun. She was the anchor, always the anchor. Ruth stepped forward. “You must forgive my husband, he’s still grieving.”
“And you’re not?” Martha asked.
“Oh, don’t mistake my calm demeanor for weakness. I would love nothing more than to rip you off that horse and bury a blade in your heart… but where would that get us?” Her nostrils flared.
“Agreed. More of the same.”
“Exactly. How is Miriam?”
Martha gave her a fierce stare. “She’ll survive. Just as us Rikers have for generations.”
Ruth gave a nod. Hank stepped forward. “How do you propose a truce?”
“I already have. Offering up one of ours.”
“One for three?” Hank snorted. “Not much of a truce.”
“If numbers are what you wish to argue, let’s discuss how many of your boys raped my youngest daughter, shall we?” Martha said, raising her voice.
“She wasn’t raped,” Seth said, stepping down, jabbing an angry finger at her. “We never touched…” The words left his mouth without thinking.
“Shut up, Seth,” Hank barked.
It was too late, he’d already spoken. He’d already revealed his involvement. Martha’s hand went into her pocket, and several of them were ready with fingers on triggers. Slowly she retrieved a voice recorder and tossed it to Hank. He caught it. At first, he thought she was recording Seth’s confession; she wasn’t.
“Listen to it. It’s a copy. That’s your proof regarding Alby. From here on out, as long as none of you come near my family, or attempt to stir up trouble, we will avoid further bloodshed. But be aware. Mark my words. If you venture in our hills, touch even one hair on the head of a Riker. All bets are off and my kin will wipe every single one of you out until there is no memory of the Stricklands in this county.”
Hank scoffed. “Big words from a lady that has one foot in the grave.”
“Your decision. I’ve done my part.”
With that, she turned the horse and rode out without looking back. Watching her ride out infuriated him. The nerve of the woman. And yet it puzzled him. He thought Dan had figured out who was behind the death of his boys, he didn’t think one of their own had handed him over.
This was new.
Uncharted territory. What game was she playing?
Hank could have shot her in the back and been done with it but he knew that would only fulfill what Bruce had said about bringing
