Chapter 1 #2
Still, the entire drive had been spent with him silently fuming and her sitting so tensely beside him, trying her best to keep Lily as well as herself from making any noise that might set him off again.
It made for a long, miserable drive. She’d almost wet her pants during that first leg of the trip because he drove when he wanted and stopped when he wanted, and she was too scared to ask him to stop when she needed to pee.
She needed to pee now, as a matter of fact, because their last stop had been two hours ago when Lilly had cried to be fed.
They’d stopped at a roadside scenic viewing spot, which fortunately had two park tables and benches to sit on while she nursed her toddler.
He hadn’t even let her do that in the warm privacy of the cab.
“Because that,” he’d said, stabbing at Lily with an angry finger, “ain’t puking her guts up in my truck.”
So, there she’d been, sitting on an icy bench, a baby blanket thrown over Lily and her shoulder, shivering in her light spring jacket and jeans as she watched the driver and the two movers who’d been following them in their truck smoking in a tight group while every now and then giving her assessing looks from where they stood talking near the back of the van.
She’d been so very grateful to see all of them when they’d pulled up to her old house. Now however, they only made her nervous.
“B-but,” she protested, pointing back at the first cabin they’d passed before continuing on to this one. “The house is right there!”
“Ten grand,” he snapped, abruptly upping the price. “Or your shit goes in the mud.”
Her jaw fell. “But I already paid. Call your boss!”
Snapping away from her, he marched to the back of the moving van.
“No!” Jumping to stop him, she grabbed the handle when he did. “You can’t! This isn’t fair—”
He let go of the handle so fast and grabbed the front of her coat, hauling her up on tiptoes right until her foot slipped in the mud and down she went. Not to her knees, though. When she lost her balance, he shoved her and she landed flat on her back with a wet, muddy splat!
Lily whacked her forehead against Stace’s cheek, and the baby instantly stopped crying and screamed instead.
Stace stared in shock up at the driver she had just spend the last two days riding with.
He still had the front of her jacket in his fist. Bent over her, he shook her once, actually hauling her up off the ground before slamming her back down again.
She flinched, shielding Lily as he ignored the screaming toddler and brought his other fist right to the end of her nose.
“I don’t like liars, and I don’t like cheaters.
Rules are, I get paid upon delivery. You’ve already put me through enough grief, now you’re robbing me of my hard-earned pay.
I’m not leaving until I get it.” He yanked her head and shoulders off the ground, and slammed her back into it again. “So, give it!”
Shouting, she threw up her arm to protect the baby from attack when he drew back his fist and opened his hand. That’s when she heard running footsteps in the slick mud—one of his mover buddies, coming right at her head to kick her, to kick Lily. Her shock broke and she screamed.
Which was when the massive, bearded, lumberjack of a man rushing up to meet them grabbed the driver’s slapping arm, yanking him off her—and off his own suddenly flailing feet—and slammed him into the side of the moving truck.
“You try anything like that again, and I will break your arm,” the big man growled.
Now, it really was the driver’s moving buddies rushing in to help their boss, but they didn’t make more than a few steps, before the booming report of a shotgun firing into the air stopped everything.
The driver, the lumberjack holding him slammed against the truck, and both spare movers froze where they were.
Rolling onto her knees, hugging Lily to her chest, the only sounds Stace could hear was the sporadic drip-drip-drip as the last of the mid-December snow slush melted from the roofs of the two cabins and the thick forest of evergreens all around them.
Even her baby’s dwindling cries sounded weirdly distorted as Stace scrambled to get out of the mud and up onto the icy grass.
Shaking, wet, covered in mud, Stace stole a peek backwards through the skeletal branches of a wintering shrub. An old man was standing on his front porch, dressed in baggy jeans and a flannel button-down shirt, but no coat. He held the rifle in his hands, still pointed right at them.
“I been sharp-shootin’ since before your pappies grew their first cock-hair!” the old man hoarsely bellowed. “Get! I don’t have to miss!”
“And I won’t miss,” the lumberjack promised.
He went through the driver’s pockets until he found the truck keys.
Only then did he release the man, all but flinging him back at his visibly nervous friends.
He almost slipped before one of them grabbed his arm.
He regained his balance every bit as angry as he’d been before.
His teeth were bared and his snarl was enough to send her scrambling to get her feet under her again when he spat, “I ain’t going anywhere without my truck. ”
Slipping in the mud, she managed to get through the leafless bushes and onto the safety of the lawn. Clinging to her baby, she spun back to find the big man had moved. He was now standing between her and the three movers, all of whom were fixed solely on him.
Letting his right arm drift behind him up under the back of his heavy brown coat, it was only when his huge hand withdrew, wrapped around the butt of a wood-handled revolver, that Stace realized he was armed too.
“I will hurt you,” he warned the movers.
The driver actually smirked. “You want to pull a knife on me? There’s three of us, and one of you. Pretty sure we’re going to hurt you too.”
The lumberjack pulled the gun out from behind him, letting all three see it. “Do tell.”
“You can’t shoot all of us,” the driver snarled, his two friends looking from the revolver to him. They backed a step away.
Chuckling, the bearded lumberjack cocked the hammer on his rifle. “I sincerely hope I don’t have to shook any of you. Your truck, on the other hand…”
He shot out the dual rear tires.
“Shit!” The more skittish of the movers grabbed his companion’s arm and they both jumped back.
Even the driver retreated, although only half a step.
His eyes were still furious, and although it looked like he wanted too, he did not chase after the big man who calmly circled the truck to shoot out the front two tires as well.
Both she and Lily jumped at each shot. Grabbing her mother by the shirt and hair, the baby screamed all over again.
Something poked her in the back of the head and Stace jerked, ducking away from this new threat, right up until she recognized the knobby branch of a wintering tree stretched out and gently bouncing from its contact with her.
“Hey!” the driver behind her shouted as the big man continued on his way around the truck, shooting out the tires.
“Hey,” another hoarser voice called, and she looked to the old man still standing on the front porch. His rifle was leaning up against the side of the cabin as he held a phone to his ear and waved her to him. “Get inside, girl.”
She’d never had such an urge to run towards an armed stranger in her life, but she didn’t know him or the big man who’d now rounded the big rig and who now held the gun at the driver who was yelling, “I’ll fucking sue you.
That’s my truck you just shot to hell, and those tires is $500 each! You owe me!”
“Guess that’s another five grand you won’t be collecting.”
“Watch me beat it out of you,” the driver snarled. His face was dark, his fists clenched, and in the distance, the familiar wail of a police siren could just be heard.
Shaking his head, the lumberjack raised the gun and aimed it straight at him.
He cocked it again. “See if you can help me with a little math problem. A revolver holds six shots, and I just killed ten of your tires. If I reloaded at the front bumper, tell me: How many bullets do I have left? Come on, now. Use your common core. This is the day when math really can save your life.”
“Cops are coming, man!” one of his mover buddies called from behind the wheel of the pickup. “Let’s go!”
“I’m not going anywhere. Not until I get my money.”
“Are you nuts?” Eyes bugging, the movers glanced at one another.
The look that passed between them was an entire conversation’s worth, one that ended in a firm decision.
He jumped into the white pickup, and both doors slammed.
A half second later, the vehicle came rumbling to life and immediately backed down the muddy road.
It pulled into the short driveway of her aunt’s cabin, turning around before peeling out the way they had come, splattering everything behind them with a wave of mud and rocks.
Two sharp smacks, like the clapping of hands, caught her ear and when Stace looked back to the front porch, the old man pinned her with a stern frown.
He snapped his fingers and pointed the porch at his feet.
“You get your hide on up here, little miss. Don’t you make me come get you, or you won’t like what happens. Come on, obey me now.”
Her feet were moving before her brain or quivering stomach accepted the wisdom of following his command. She hated confrontation. She hated it more when people got angry with her. And that tone… she wasn’t used to not obeying that tone.