FORTY-TWO
It was thirty miles to Nightwind’s ranch. Cork drove like a madman. In the dust raised behind him, Father Frank and the Arapaho followed in the truck they’d driven to Red Hawk. Ten minutes after they left town, Cork’s cell phone rang, and he handed it to Parmer.
Parmer answered, listened, then turned to Cork. “It’s Sheriff Kosmo. He’d like you to stop immediately and wait. He’ll have men out here as soon as he can and an ambulance.”
“Tell him to go to hell.”
Into the phone, Parmer said, “Sheriff, I’d have better luck trying to stop a bulldozer with a feather duster.” He listened again, then held out the cell phone to Cork. “He wants to talk to you.”
Cork took the phone, snapped it shut, and handed it back to Parmer. Then he bore down even harder on the accelerator.
Half a mile from Lame Nightwind’s ranch compound, Cork stopped. “Check your Ruger.”
Parmer opened the glove box where he’d placed the weapon. He pulled the firearm out, ejected and checked the magazine, then slapped it back into place. Cork swung himself out of the Jeep and opened the back door just as the Arapahos’ truck drew up behind him. He lifted out Quinn’s Winchester, which he’d kept.
Adelle, Nick, and Father Frank got out of the pickup and hurried to the Jeep.
The priest frowned at the rifle in Cork’s hands. “Is this necessary, Mr. O’Connor?”
Cork checked the magazine to be sure it carried a full load of rounds.
“I’ve got no idea what we might be walking into, Father. It could be Lame Nightwind or it could be a couple of professional killers. I just want to be prepared.”
“Mr. O’Connor, I understand your eagerness-” the priest began.
“Father, what you understand or don’t isn’t important to me. Nightwind may be the only man alive who knows where my wife is. I intend to get some answers from him.”
“What if you kill him first?” the priest said.
“I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”
Cork pushed the priest aside, got into the Jeep, and handed Parmer the rifle. Adelle Iron rushed to his door and stood looking at him very afraid.
“What about my husband?”
“I’ll do what I can,” Cork said. “But until we know the situation, you and Nick and the father stay back. Do you understand?”
He didn’t wait for her to answer. He kicked the engine over, and as soon as she stepped away, he sped off.
A hundred yards from the ranch house he pulled to a stop and scanned the compound. Except for the horses grazing in the pasture behind the barn, nothing moved. Two hawks circled on thermals above the foothills, and beyond that the face of Heaven’s Keep, distant and brooding, looked down. A line of dark clouds had begun to mount from behind the Absarokas.
Cork reached for his rifle. “Stay here and cover me,” he said to Parmer. “I’m going to check the house.”
He used the protection of the boulders that were a natural part of the landscape and made his way toward the ranch house.
Behind him, Adelle Iron parked the truck next to Parmer and the Wrangler.
Cork reached the porch and bounded up the steps to the front door. He waited, then tried the knob. The door was unlocked. He nudged it open but kept to the side, out of sight. When nothing happened, he kicked the door wide and slipped inside. He scanned the living room and the dining room beyond. He listened carefully but heard nothing. Then he sensed movement at his back. He spun and found Parmer in the doorway.
“Easy, Cork. Just me.”
Cork turned back to the interior of the house. He motioned with his hand for Parmer to follow. Slowly, carefully, they went through the whole place. Nightwind wasn’t there. They returned to the Jeep.
“My husband?” Adelle asked.
Cork shook his head.
“At the cabin,” she said.
“Wait here until we’re sure.” Cork’s attention became focused on the outbuildings. He sprinted to the garage and peered through a window. Nightwind’s pickup was parked inside, along with a Jeep Cherokee. Cork turned to Parmer, who’d shadowed him.
“His vehicles are still here. He’s around somewhere. We’re going to check the outbuildings one at a time. I’ll go first, you cover me.”
Parmer was dripping sweat. His shirt was soaked dark. He put a hand on Cork’s shoulder. “The sheriff’s people will be here in an hour or so. Sure you don’t want to wait?”
Cork wanted to scream so bad he could barely speak to Parmer. What he managed to say was this: “I have to know about my wife. If God himself were coming in an hour, I wouldn’t wait.”
For an instant, Parmer’s grip tightened on Cork’s shoulder, then released. “All right, I’m with you. Whatever it takes.”
Cork ran in a crouch to the next outbuilding, where Nightwind kept his backhoe. He tried the door. It opened easily. Inside, except for the silent bulk of the great machine, the place was empty. He motioned Parmer to join him, and he nodded toward the barn.
Cork slipped along the front wall toward the barn door, which was pulled wide open. From inside came a steady hum that Cork couldn’t identify. He motioned Parmer toward the rear of the building. Parmer climbed a rail fence and disappeared in back. Cork reached the door and edged his left shoulder and his head around the threshold. Slowly, the scene revealed itself to him. The barn was in disarray, tools and materials thrown about as if in the heat of an angry battle. A chair sat in the middle of the room. It was empty, but an uncoiled length of rope lay like a long, dead snake on the ground around it. The hum continued, coming from the corner of the barn that was still hidden from Cork’s view. His finger nestled the rifle trigger, and he eased himself farther into the barn.
What he saw stopped him cold.
A body hung upside down, its ankles tied to a rope that ran through a pulley suspended from a rafter. It was male, nude, eviscerated. Entrails hung from the gaping wound and lay in the dirt directly below. The body was black with a skin that seemed to ripple. Flies. Thousands of them. The source of the hum Cork had heard.
Parmer entered through the back door and came to where Cork stood.
“Jesus,” he said. “Is that Ben Iron?”
Because of the flies, Cork couldn’t tell. He walked to the hung body and nudged it with his rifle barrel. The flies dispersed. The body slowly rotated. Cork looked at the face.
“It’s Gully,” he said.
Parmer glanced around. “Where’s Mike?”
“Over there.” Cork walked to a stall where a body lay thrown on a bed of hay. Most of the lower jaw had been blown away, but enough of the face still remained for Cork to see clearly who it had been.
“What’s with the chair and the rope?” Parmer asked. “He tied Gully there first, then decided on this?”
Cork shook his head. “I can’t make heads or tails of Nightwind.”
“Where is he?”
“Only one place that I know of left to look.”
At that moment, the Arapaho truck sped past the barn.
Cork ran to the door and watched the trail of dust rise as the truck raced toward the cabin. “Goddamn it! Come on, Hugh.”
Under the threatening sky, they hightailed it to the Wrangler and followed the truck into the foothills.
When they reached the cabin, the truck was empty and the cabin door was ajar. Cork heard voices inside, talking loud and fast. He heard Adelle cry out. He grasped his rifle and jumped from the Jeep. Parmer leaped out the other side. The priest appeared in the doorway. He looked stricken and beckoned them forward. They came cautiously. Cork held his rifle ready.
“Nightwind’s gone,” the priest said.
Inside Cork found Ben Iron lying on the sofa. He was conscious but not in good shape. He’d been beaten
