Last Man Standing

55

Strait had heard the sirens too and he couldn’t believe how quickly everything had gone to hell. Story of his life. He put his gun against Claire’s head and pulled out her gag. He had already untied her so he wouldn’t have to carry her.

“Afraid you’re my ticket out of here, lady. And even that might not be enough. But just so you don’t get your hopes up, if it looks like they’re going to take me, I’m gonna shoot you.”

“Why?” wailed Claire helplessly.

“’Cause I’m pissed off, that’s why. ’Cause I worked my ass off for nothing, that’s why. Now come on.” He jerked her along as they made their way toward the equestrian center. There were trucks there that maybe, just maybe he could use to get out of here. They were approaching the center from the east and when he saw the peak of the big hay barn, Strait actually smiled. The farm was vast and its topography complex, and the cops would come in the front, no doubt, while Strait left from the rear. By the time they realized what was going on, he would have ditched the truck, gotten to the little safe house he had set up just for this contingency and then quietly disappeared, not with all his money, but with some of it.

They cleared a rise in the land and started down toward the horse stalls. The man came at them from out of the darkness. At first Strait thought it was Macy, but then the clouds moved past and the moonlight revealed Billy Canfield standing there, shotgun in hand. Strait instantly held Claire in front of him, the gun to her temple.

“Get out the way, old man, I ain’t got no time for you.”

“Why, because the cops are coming? You damn right they are, ’cause I called ’em.”

Strait shook his head, a vicious look on his features. “And why’d you do that?”

“I don’t know what the hell you been doing on my farm, but I do know you been sleeping with my wife. You must think I’m stupid or something.”

“Well, somebody had to be screwing her, Billy, ’cause you sure as hell weren’t.”

“That’s my business,” roared Canfield, “not yours.”

“Oh, it’s my business, all right, and let me tell you it was some damn fine business. You didn’t know what you were missing, old man.”

Canfield raised his shotgun.

“Yeah, go on and fire, Billy, and with that scattergun you’ll kill this nice lady too.”

The men silently stared at each other until Strait completely realized his advantage.

Still using Claire as a shield, he pointed his pistol at Billy and prepared to fire.

“Billy!”

Strait looked over in time to see Gwen and Baron charging straight at him. He yelled, pushed Claire away and got off two quick shots. And then a bullet hit him in the head, instantly crumpling him.

Web had rushed out of the woods, quickly taken in what was happening and fired, killing Strait. Baron reared up and his front hooves came down on Strait’s body.

Web quickly ran to Claire’s side. He didn’t have to check Strait. He knew the man was dead.

“Are you okay?” he asked Claire.

She nodded, then sat up and started crying. Web hugged her and then looked over and saw that Billy Canfield had shuffled over to a dark mass and then dropped to his knees. Web rose, and went over to him and looked at where Gwen lay on the ground, her chest covered by a pool of blood where at least one of Strait’s shots had hit its mark. She looked up at them both, her breath coming in painful gasps. Web dropped to his knees, ripped open her shirt and saw the wound. He slowly covered her chest back up and looked at her. His expression obviously told her the truth.

She gripped his hand. “I’m so scared, Web.”

Web knelt down closer as Billy just squatted there, staring at his dying wife.

“You’re not alone, Gwen.” That was all he could think to say. He wanted to hate this woman for what she had done to him, to Teddy Riner and all the rest. But he couldn’t. And it wasn’t just because she had saved his life, and Claire’s and Kevin’s. It was because Web didn’t know what he would have done had he been in the woman’s shoes, with all that rage and hatred building up over the years. Maybe he would have done the same; he just hoped not.

“I’m not scared of dying, Web. I’m scared I won’t see David.” Blood dribbled from her mouth and her words were a little garbled, but Web understood her.

Heaven and hell; that was it? With maybe purgatory not even an option.

Her eyes were starting to lose focus and Web could feel her grip loosening.

“David,” she said weakly. “David.” She looked to the sky. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned . . .” Her voice trailed off and she started sobbing.

Web assumed the woman would have crawled to her little chapel if she’d had the strength. He looked around for something, anything. And then it appeared in the form of Paul Romano walking stiffly over to them. He had driven off in the truck that had been hooked to the trailer by the pool, flat tires and all, thanks to Web.

Web rushed over to him, looked at his bloody leg. “You okay?”

“Just a scratch. Thanks for asking.”

“Paulie, can you take Gwen’s Last Confession?”

“What?”

Web pointed to where Gwen lay in the grass. “Gwen’s dying. I want you to hear her Last Confession.”

Romano took a step back. “Are you nuts? Do I look like a priest?”

“She’s dying, Paulie, she won’t know. She believes she’s going to hell and she won’t see her son.”

“This is the same woman who masterminded wiping out Charlie Team and you want me to forgive her too for all the stuff she’s done?”

“Yes, it’s important.”

“No way am I doing that.”

“Come on, Romano, it won’t kill you.”

Romano looked to the sky for an instant. “How do you know?” “Paulie, please, I know I have no right to ask you, but please, there’s not much time. It’s the right thing to do.” He added in desperation, “God will understand.”

The men stared at each other for a long moment and then Romano shook his head, limped over and knelt down beside Gwen. He took her hand in his, made the sign of the cross over her and asked her if she wanted to make her Last Confession. In weakening tones she said she did.

Finished, Romano rose and stepped away.

Web again knelt down beside Gwen. Her eyes were starting to glaze over, but for a brief moment she was able to focus on him and even gave him a weak smile as though to thank him, as with each breath she pumped more blood out of her body. The resemblance to the wound that had claimed her son was striking.

She clutched Web’s hand with renewed strength and mouthed the words, “I’m so sorry, Web, can you forgive me?”

Web looked at the beautiful eyes that were growing dimmer by the second. In those eyes and the woman’s features he saw a different image, that of a young boy who had trusted Web and who had then been failed by him.

“I forgive you,” he said to the dying woman, and he hoped that somewhere, somehow, David Canfield was doing the same for him.

With that, Web stepped back and passed her hand over to Billy, who took it and knelt down beside his wife. Web watched as the chest rose and fell with greater and greater speed, and then, finally, it just stopped and the hand went limp. As Billy quietly sobbed over the body of his wife, Web helped Claire stand, put his arm under Romano to assist him, and the three started to walk off together.

The shotgun blast made them all jump. When they turned around, Billy was just then walking away from Strait’s body, a curl of smoke rising from his shotgun.