Authors: Reavis Z Wortham
Following the hand-drawn map, Anna found the rented house with very little trouble and parked in the empty front yard surrounded by trees on three sides. In the late afternoon light there were no other buildings in sight except for a ramshackle barn in the distance. She didn't know what kind of vehicle John T. drove, but he obviously wasn't there. She drummed her fingernails on the cloth seat, thinking.
“Dispatch, this is Deputy Sloan.”
“Go ahead, Anna. Remember, you can call me Martha.”
“I'm serving a warrant at⦔ she read the route number on the mailbox.
“Ten-four.”
She stepped out, her foot squishing in a sea of red mud. Eroded car tracks crisscrossed the yard. A light shower dimpled the puddles. She paused, listening to the sound of high water in the roaring creek not half a mile away. A darker line of clouds moved from the southwest, followed by the grumble of distant thunder.
The house was a typical salt-box Texas farmhouse with a small inset porch in the left front corner. One peeling, shiplap-covered wall bowed outward and from the long perspective from the front, curved up and down like rolling hills. She'd already seen the other side when she pulled in. There were no ruts leading to the back.
Grit on the concrete porch steps scraped under her shoes. Once there, she checked the window to her immediate right. The paper shade was drawn and still. Angling her body so as not to stand directly in front of the door, she banged on the screen with the heel of her hand.
After a long, silent moment, she banged again. “John T. West! Sheriff's department! Open up!”
She banged again, harder. “Sheriff's department, John T.! I have a warrant for your arrest! Come to the door!”
She bent outward to check the length of the house. Nothing moved. No one sprinted out the back toward the woods, at least no one she could see from where she stood.
She rapped her knuckles on the loose glass in what she expected to be the living room window. The paper blind blocked her view there as well. “Sheriff's department!” Anna tugged at the screen door. It opened easily. Propping it open with her foot, she twisted the knob on the wooden door.
“Search warrant!” For the first time she drew her pistol and pushed at the unlocked front door. Stiff, it only swung open for about ten inches. The part of the living area within her view was completely empty. She peeked inside and because she was small, slid sideways through the opening.
The wooden door swung wider and the world exploded as a booby trap triggered both barrels of a sawed-off twelve-gauge pointed at the door.
“Cody.”
“Go ahead, Martha.”
“I can't raise Anna, and it's been half an hour.”
“Where did she last report?”
She gave him the route number for the house. “She went there to serve that warrant on John T. West.”
“I'm on the way. Did you call the constable in Cooper?” It was the nearest town to John T.'s house.
She heard his engine roar as Cody pushed the accelerator to the floor. “Sure did. Jim Ed Hathaway. No answer at his house, and I can't raise him on the radio, neither.”
Cody flipped on his siren. “Did he go out there with Anna?”
“Can't say.”
“All right. Let me know if you hear anything else. I oughta be there in twenty minutes or so.”
He was about to hang up the microphone when his Motorola squawked again. “Cody.”
“Go ahead, John.”
“I'm hitched to your bumper.”
Cody checked his mirror. “Hang on tight.”
Five minutes later his radio squawked. “Cody, this is Jim Ed.”
“Where are you?”
“Pulling a car out of a low place not far from Cooper. The water's rising so fast that it's cut folks off all around me. Why?”
“You know where John T. West lives?”
“Yessir, that mean son of a bitch lives on a back road south of the river, but it's getting' out of its banks now and spreadin' fast. It's raining like hell here.”
All the creeks in that part of the county drained into the Sulphur River, a deep, winding cut with steep banks sometimes twenty feet from top to bottom.
“I'm gettin' it pretty good myself.” Feeling the sedan's front end slip, Cody backed off the gas. “I'm driving as quick as I can, but this highway's slick as glass.”
“I know it. I'm having to find a way around Springhill Slough. I'll be coming up on the post office in about five or ten minutes.”
“That'll be about when I get there.”
Cody dropped the microphone in his lap and concentrated on his driving. The water seemed higher on that side of Chisum and the fields were shallow lakes. It hadn't rained this much since the night the kids were taken, nearly four years earlier.
Minutes later, Cody rounded a curve to see flashing lights as Jim Ed pulled on the highway a quarter mile ahead. He flashed his headlights and Jim Ed's voice came over the radio. “I see you. We're gonna lose some time when we get off the highway up here. I sure hope these roads ain't washed out.”
“You get me to my deputy. I believe she's at John T.'s.”
“You figure she's hurt?”
“I hope not, but she still hasn't checked in.” Cody prayed that her car was stuck somewhere between them and John T.'s house, but that wouldn't explain why she hadn't called.
Jim Ed knew where he was going, so the only thing slowing them was the road conditions. He stopped at a submerged plank bridge not far from John T.'s house and got out, slamming his door in frustration. Rain hammered his hat and bounced up from the stream of roiling, glassy water.
Cody braked and opened the door. “What's the matter?”
“There's a bridge under here somewhere.”
“How deep is it?”
He studied the glass-slick surface. “Not quite deep enough to worry about, yet.”
“Is there another way around?”
“Not that'll be any better than this. I'm gonna see if I can feel the edge with my feet. You get in my car and follow me. If we make it, you can wade back and get yours.” Jim Ed opened his trunk and took out a shovel. Like a man walking on ice, Jim Ed eased forward in the strong current, feeling for the solid oak boards underneath the ankle-deep water.
He jabbed downward, feeling for the edge of the rough bridge. He felt the shovel miss, as the water caught the wide blade. “Here it is! Come on.”
Leaning into the current, Jim Ed stood at the very edge of the bridge. The water pushed at his legs, and he knew it wouldn't be much longer before it gained enough power to take him down.
Barely touching the gas, Cody eased forward and passed so close to Jim Ed that he thought the side mirror would push the Delta County constable off into the current, but he missed by inches and continued several yards onto slightly higher ground.
Leaving his car, Big John waded onto the bridge. The current pulled like a live thing against his legs. He took Jim Ed's arm. “C'mon. I've watched this water climb your britches while you stood here. We'll leave the cars here and ride in your'n.”
When they were inside with Cody, Jim Ed pointed. “Turn up there past the graveyard.” The slough was out of its banks and headstones jutted from the water. “Hope it don't wash Miss Millie Bills out of the ground. She ain't been down there long enough to set.”
By then, Cody saw Anna's sedan parked in front of the house. He pushed the car as hard as he dared, and a minute later they stopped in the flooded yard. Three doors opened simultaneously as the men jumped out of Jim Ed's sedan.
“Anna!” Cody rounded the car and splashed through the ankle deep water. “Anna!” He saw her on the porch, lying on her back, her fingers dangling only inches from the rising water. “John! She's shot.”
The big deputy jumped the steps and landed on the boards. Drawing his pistol, he faced the destroyed door. “She alive?”
Cody pressed his fingers under her jaw, feeling for a pulse. His voice choked. “I think she's dead.”
John growled and pushed through the ventilated door. A shotgun was tied to a step ladder. A limp line running from the trigger to the door showed how the contraption was rigged to fire. “No one did it by hand. They's a booby trap here.”
Cody moved his fingers on her neck, pressing harder. “C'mon kid.”
John disappeared into the house and Jim Ed followed, a shotgun ready in his hands.
Cody checked again. This time finding a pulse so weak that he barely felt it. “Thank God!” He grabbed her shirt and ripped it open, buttons rattling across the porch. Three small holes seeped blood. Another hole at the bottom of her bra bubbled through the material when she took a wet, shallow breath.
He ripped his own shirt off and used it as a compression bandage. He figured it was useless, but it was the only thing he could think to do.
John and Jim Ed came back outside after clearing the house. Jim Ed frowned when he saw Cody in his undershirt. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to stop the bleeding.”
“I thought you said she was dead.”
“Thought she
was
. We gotta get her out of here. She's about bled out, and I think there's a hole in her lung.”
“Is it bubbling?”
“Yeah.”
Jim Ed launched himself off the porch and opened the trunk. He rummaged around for a second and ran back through the rain with a roll of silver tape.
“What's that?”
“Duct tape. Where's the hole in her lung?”
“Through her brassiere.”
“Take it off.” Jim Ed ripped off a piece of tape.
Cody dug a pocketknife out of his pants pocket, selected the largest blade, and cut Anna's bra off to reveal the bullet wound.
Jim Ed wiped the hole with the palm of his hand, brushed her breast upward, and slapped the tape over the round wound. Anna immediately convulsed and twisted in Cody's hands. She gasped, breathed in, and then coughed blood.
Jim Ed nodded. “That'll seal it for a little while.”
Big John shouldered past. “Let's go.” He picked up the petite deputy and rushed toward the car. Jim Ed opened the back door as Cody hurried around to the drivers' side. John fell backward into the seat and Jim Ed piled into the front.
Cody slammed the shifter into reverse then paused. “We can't go back the way we came. The water'll be too high.”
“Turn left and pray the slough hasn't trapped us here.”
Pepper was gone and I was getting punished for it in more ways than one.
I was missing my best friend so bad it hurt, and she was off somewhere without me.
Second, I'd spent my time in church while Miss Becky prayed, and I admit, I prayed some too, but not as hard as she did. Now, here I was again sitting in that crazy woman Melva Hale's house while Miss Becky and Norma Faye talked to her about how hard it was to live alone.
When Miss Becky called Norma Faye to come get her, she said it was because even though we had problems, other folks like Melva Hale did, too, and she thought the Lord wanted her to do for others and maybe he'd make sure Pepper was okay.
I'm sure Norma Faye was feeling a little put upon, too, having to haul Miss Becky everywhere she wanted to go while Grandpa was gone.
I couldn't take that old woman's giggles anymore, so I went outside to watch it rain. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself, because there weren't any chairs to sit on, not even one with a cane bottom, and I couldn't hang my legs off the edge of that raggedy-assed old porch for the water running off the roof.
I hadn't even brought a book with me, but I'd seen all those romance magazines scattered around in Melva's house and thought about going inside to get one of them. I struggled with the idea of reading love stories, and decided that at least it was
something
to read. I was ready to go through the trash and read the labels on soup cans.
When I came back inside, Norma Faye waved at the screen. “In or out.”
“I need something to read.”
She softened. “All right hon. Miss Melva, is it all right if he reads one of your magazines?”
She was sitting there, rubbing her forehead. Her eyes were closed. “He can have all he wants. I've done read 'em up.”
A couple of magazines on the couch had covers I was interested in, but wouldn't pick them up with Norma Faye and Miss Becky watching. One called
Daring Love
reminded me of a comic book with a drawing of a smiling blond woman in a pile of hay, with a guy leaning over her like he was going for a kiss. Her shirt was unbuttoned down far enough to see her brassiere.
There were others;
Western Romance, The Love Book, True Romance
, and
True Confessions
. It seemed like they ran toward what might be the truth, so I steered away from them. A cheap magazine rack was stuffed full of even more titles, and I saw something like a newspaper with the title of
Police Gazette
.
It had women with big boobs on the cover, too, but I took it anyway to read about police stuff. Tucking it under my arm, I jumped off the porch and ran through the rain to stretch out in the backseat of Norma's car.
The headline read, “The Lure of LSD.” In a little box toward the bottom I saw a story about hippies. When I opened the paper to that double page spread, there were a dozen pictures of hippies, and most of them were fighting with police officers.
The headlines screamed “Youth Goes to Pot” on one page, and “Cop Fighters” on the other. The first story was about something called “love-ins” and “sit-ins” and hippie girls who smoke cigars. The cop fighters' side was mostly pictures of colored people hitting police.
I'd never seen anything like that paper, and disappeared into a world I didn't know existed, the world that Pepper had left home for. It didn't take long for me to think she'd made a big mistake.
I jumped when Marty knocked on the glass with a knuckle. I rolled the window down enough to talk. His eyes were dull, almost dead. “
Now
what are y'all doing here?”
“Miss Becky's in there with Norma Faye. They came to visit with your mama.”
“You damn Parkers are over here too much.”
“You ain't a woofin'. I didn't want to come in the first place.”
“Hey, you seen my lighter? I lost it the last time y'all were snoopin' around over here?”
I shrugged, but he took it the wrong way.
He studied me for a long moment with dead eyes. “Yep. Keep it, and I don't want y'all back over here.”
I didn't try and explain. “Believe me, I'm with you on that one.”
He straightened up and headed toward the barn. I saw a pistol sticking out of his waistband as he walked away. I made sure he was gone, then went back to my magazine. Rain drumming on the roof made me sleepy and I put the magazine down. It was pouring so hard that I couldn't see through the water sluicing down the windshield, so I closed my eyes.
I dozed and slipped outside and into the air. It wasn't raining and the talking horse was whispering in my ear. “
See it?”
I tried to rouse up, but sleep pushed my lids back down. They were so heavyâ¦
“Don't you see?”
Grandpa appeared and rubbed the horse's ears. “It's hard to see.” The horse squeezed against Grandpa, pushing him into a barbed-wire fence so hard it started cutting through his clothes. “It's right there in front of us all.”
He held up a Police Gazette. The headline was fuzzy.
The car door opened and jolted me awake. I sat up quickly, rubbing my eyes. Miss Becky slammed the passenger door.
“You ready to go home and get some supper, sleepyhead?” Without waiting for an answer, Norma Faye started the engine and backed up. When she did, I saw the old swaybacked horse standing beside the barbed-wire fence.