Chapter 36 – Cody
Chapter Thirty-Six
Cody
I’m trying to show some respect, but Shay ignored five of my phone calls and this really isn’t like her. I want to know how this art show of hers is going along and I’ve gone through four hand-rolled cigarettes outside while Caleb takes his afternoon nap.
“I’m heading out to where that phone is. I don’t believe she just stopped along the highway or the signal dropped. She’s not answering.”
“Could just be a dead zone,” Coleton suggests shakily.
“Can I trust you boys to stay here with Caleb?”
“He’s sleeping. Can’t be any harder to take care of than a horse while he’s knocked out cold.”
“He’ll need supper and minding so he doesn’t put anything strange in his mouth or tumble into a pond.”
“We’ve raised plenty of critters before.”
I throw on my cut, a black Stetson and pack two pistols on me for the ride.
I shouldn’t use my nicest bike for this, but it’s my fastest and right now, I need fast. I tried to be patient and not the crazy unhinged criminal that scared the shit out of Shay the first time she saw that dark side of me.
But she isn’t answering her phone. And Grayson’s assurances could have fallen through since he didn’t put Renshaw in the ground.
And then there are the ex-immigration agents who formed the Iron Frontier MC and all the trouble they’ve been causing for the club chapter out east and the gun lines from Texas.
It’s not that I don’t trust Shay. We’ve built trust up between us.
I just can’t stop myself from being that possessive, protective man who will worry about her when she’s out of sight and do everything in my power to make sure that nobody hurts her.
My Ducati stays covered in a thick black motorcycle cover to keep the ranch dust off of it. Coleton helps take the cover off and I give him basic instructions on what to do if I’m not back within the next day or two.
“I should call you by tonight,” I tell him. “Get Kylie over here as soon as possible and make sure nothing happens to Caleb.”
What happens when I have to go out there and shoot someone to save Shay?
She won’t want to be with me anymore. I look at the ranch one last time, wistful about it.
The bliss we had there could have only been temporary.
I keep pushing on my desire to be normal, but no matter how I try to do the right thing – get a woman, step up for her son, bring a new life into the world, the same dark shit I try to keep off my ranch comes crawling along the edges like an evil shadow.
But this is the last time.
We’re going to have to agree to be two different sides of a coin after this, because I tried mercy for Shay and it didn’t work. This time, there’s going to be a reckoning.
I ride away from the ranch kicking up dust behind me.
I don’t want to scare Caleb or answer any of his questions.
It’ll be better for him if the kid thinks he lucked into an evening with the wild ranch boys rather than the truth.
Shay’s missing. I try calling her again one more time from the road, nearly swerving into a Mac truck.
After that, I focus on trailing her location, memorizing the directions and ignoring every legal directive on the wide stretch of open highway as I leave the ranch behind.
I cut across using state highways to get to the north-south interstate where Shay – or somebody else more likely – chucked her phone out the window.
There’s a crack on the screen, but otherwise the screen isn’t broken. This stretch of road might be some evidence of where she’s going. The next town over is Branford, so I might as well try there in case her captor isn’t very bright.
I doubt he must be. For a moment, there’s some horror as I wonder if maybe Shay left me on purpose.
She wouldn’t have left Caleb. No matter what, she wouldn’t have left Caleb.
With Shay’s phone in my pocket, I drive fifteen miles to the next town over.
I have to fill up the bike, which attracts more attention than I would like.
I’m a taller-than-most, red-haired man with a nice bike like that isn’t a common sight out here.
A kid with a brown cowboy hat, dirty jeans, buck teeth and a righteous stammer asks me several questions about the bike and even if I’m in a rush, I don’t want to be mean to the kid.
Just when I think I’m wasting my time, I ask him if he’s seen a red truck come this way and he tells me that there’s a black couple staying at the motel in town. He takes his hat off and shakes his head.
“I would’ve warned the woman but her man was looking at her with a fierce expression. This place ain’t safe for people of her color after dark.”
The kid seems young – no older than sixteen.
He’s thin and tall, about six-foot-three and dirty, no more than a hundred and fifty pounds soaking wet.
His green eyes are kind enough but sheltered by the big hat covering them up.
He doesn’t seem dishonest about what he’s saying, but I’ve never really heard of such a thing.
“What do you mean by that?”
“There’s folks waiting around to see if anyone colored comes into town. Once it gets dark and the men start drinking and talking, they make it a game to scare them.”
“Scare them?”
“Starts that way.”
I give the kid a once over. “Remind me your name again?”
“Lopez.”
He doesn’t look like a “Lopez”. I suppose there’s a hint of a tan to that skin, but for the most part he’s pale with green-eyes, looking more Irish and like a Shaw than like a Mexican. His cheeks turn red when he notices my gaze shift to a more curious, if not suspicious scowl.
“Lopez?”
“I’m half Mexican,” he says, almost apologetic. “But I grew up in Oklahoma and my daddy is Texan, and he raised me right here my whole life.”
“Right. Mind telling me what hotel they’re staying at?”
“Mind if I have a cigarette?” Lopez asks pleadingly, not exactly forcing the exchange for information, but making it clear that he would prefer some kind of quid pro quo.
I hand Lopez the cigarette. He seems relieved that his ploy worked.
I’m going to hell for giving this kid a cigarette, but I would shoot crack into his veins myself if it got me closer to Shay.
“Sun coming down already. I’d better get to them.”
“If I were you, I’d stay away,” Lopez says. “They were marked for death the moment they chose to stop here.”
“You sound pretty sure.”
Lopez looks at me with wide eyes. “My daddy said that’s what happened to my mother. They waited until she had me too.”
The kid’s eyes look wide and empty and he retells the story like it’s just a matter-of-fact.
“They raped her in a farmer’s field before they shot her,” he says. “And they’ll do the same to that black lady and her man. Worse, maybe.”
“Bit dark for a kid like you to know about all that.”
Lopez shrugs.
I look at him and wonder if I should do something. I reach into my pocket and hand the kid $500 in cash.
“Tell me where they are and get the hell out of here,” I tell him. “I don’t know about your kin or your situation but… I don’t like what I’m hearing.”
The kid ashes his cigarette. He looks too young to be doing something like that.
“Nowhere to go,” he says. “But I could use the money.”
Lopez shoves the wad of cash into his pocket.
“Go to Oklahoma,” I tell him. “There’s a restaurant called The Fire Spot. A biker bar. Tell them Cody Hollingsworth sent you.”
“How am I supposed to get all the way to Oklahoma?”
“You have five-hundred dollars and a cigarette, kid. Figure it out.”
“It’s the Super 8 Motel – 876 Lantern Way, just off the highway. Red diesel Chevy.”
That’s the one.
I put my helmet on and leave the strange kid at the gas station behind.
Maybe I should have done more to help him, but right now I can only think about getting my wife back.
I speed back onto the interstate and ride out an additional five miles into the bleeding sunset, which quickly fades into a hot steel dust.
The Super 8 Motel looks like it hasn’t been updated since the late eighties.
This place is desolate, one of those towns out West that’s so remote that the town might as well be a cult unto itself.
I’m sure each one of my movements stands out, and according to that Lopez kid – I might now have much time.