No Mercy

TWENTY

Queenie’s strides ate up the prairie. Rain warred with the swirling fog, though I scarcely noticed the conditions. Remembering how to ride a horse wasn’t like remembering how to ride a bike. I jounced in the saddle, out of kilter with the animal’s natural grace. The anger and fear pounding in my blood was synchronized to Queenie’s erratic hoofbeats. I needed patience. Prudence. A faster horse.

I spurred her harder when she lagged. The ridge Theo had picked stretched above a small spring-fed stream and wasn’t as verdant as in years past. I tugged the rein in my right hand; Queenie didn’t hesitate at the switch in direction. As we galloped along, I peered over the edge. Nothing below us but chunks of shadowed shale and clumps of stony soil, colorless as the sky.

Queenie slowed down considerably. I nudged her with my heels again. She grunted annoyance but picked up the pace slightly. Poor girl was struggling. Her sides billowed with each heaving breath. I’d make sure Jake pampered her when this was over, but right now I longed for a riding crop to urge her on.

The crest banked and Queenie lost her footing. She bobbled, righted herself, and slowed to a snail’s pace. We’d made it three-quarters the length of the ridge when three things happened simultaneously: a loud crack reverberated through the canyon, an engine gunned somewhere ahead of me, and my horse came to a dead stop.

When Queenie fell, I fell. The flank strap loosened, and the saddle and I pitched sideways. I smacked the ground on my left side hard enough to make my teeth clack together like castanets. Searing pain shot across my collarbone, up my neck, and down my arm. I didn’t hear that distinctive pop, but I immediately knew I’d dislocated my shoulder.

The reins snapped from my hand. The gun slammed into my lower spine before it jiggled loose from my pants, and hit the mud. My foot popped out of the stirrup, saving my leg from getting pulverized beneath fifteen hundred pounds of dead weight.

My ankle was wedged beneath Queenie’s withers. Grunting against the pain, I wiggled my foot until it was free. The plastic bag caught air and whapped me in the chest. Ignoring the intense agony, I shifted to reach for my gun. I patted the soggy ground.

Nothing.

White-hot spears of fire zipped through my left side as my shaking fingertips connected with the Taurus’s short barrel. Almost… Nope. Still too far.

Gritting my teeth, I slid my hand higher, inching my fingers down the smooth slide, what seemed a millimeter at a time, until I could curl the tips around the barrel. The breath I’d been holding exploded in a rush as I nestled the gun in my palm.

The sound of a revving engine edged closer.

I was out of breath and out of time. Through the adrenaline rush of surviving my worst nightmare, I realized that for me to retain the element of surprise, it had to look like Queenie’s body had incapacitated me. I needed a diversion.

Resting the gun temporarily on the ground, I rustled in the garbage bag, snapped the rubber band on a stack of money, and released a crumpled handful of bills. The wind whipped the loose cash in a swirl of green, a tornado of color against the slate sky.

Despite the pain screaming in my shoulder, I pressed my body to the mud. My heart pumped like an oil derrick. Hot sweat poured from every pore, mixing with the cold rain, making my skin greasy with fear. I thumbed the safety, and cradled the gun to my chest beneath the bag. From beneath lowered lashes I watched and waited.

Theo appeared. Alone. Cautiously alert. A measly.22 clutched in his hand. He spared me a quick glance, then focused on the money blowing across the grazing field toward Nebraska.

My brain was stuck on one thing: Where was Hope? Why wasn’t he holding her hostage to ensure my cooperation?

Because she’s dead.

No. I refused to think along those lines or I’d go crazy and do something stupid. Be smart. Be patient. Breathe. Listen.

Theo took two steps toward me.

I had one chance to make this work; I hoped like hell Theo’s reflexes were slow. His greedy gaze focused on the bag of money. When he reached for the bait, I lifted the gun and put two bullets in his knee.

Theo’s screams echoed as he fell to the ground, clutching the flapping chunks of bloody skin where his kneecap used to be.

I rolled to the right and sailed to my feet, kicking his.22 aside and out of his reach. My useless left arm hung like a slab of meat. Through the brilliant haze of pain, I aimed the Taurus inches from Theo’s face. “Where is Hope?”

He was blubbering. It didn’t appear he’d heard my question.

To get his attention, I jammed the muzzle between his eyes and yelled, “You’ve got three seconds to tell me where my sister is.”

“Up on the ridge.”

“Alive?”

Blubber. Blubber. Blubber.

I whacked him on the forehead. “Alive?”

“Yes.”

“Then why isn’t she here?”

“She passed out after I… shit, it hurts.”

“After you what, Theo?”

“You’ll hurt me if I tell you.”

“I’ll hurt you worse if you don’t tell me right goddamn now what you did to her.”

Through his mumbles I heard, “I broke her nose.”

Red rage consumed me. I flicked on the safety, gripped the barrel in my hand, and clocked him in the side of the head with the grip.

Theo screamed again.

“You are a sick fuck, beating up a defenseless woman. Did you kill Levi, too?”

“No!”

Again, I hit him with the butt of the gun. Same spot. Only harder. His girlish shrieks didn’t soften my purpose.

“I’ll ask you again. Did you kill Levi?”

“No.” He was sobbing, rocking like a lopsided egg. “I swear. I didn’t kill him. I swear.”

“But you killed Sue Anne.”

He nodded.

“Why?”

No response.

“Don’t think I won’t beat you to get answers. We both know you aren’t man enough to withstand the kind of punishment I can dish out, so start talking.”

“Sue Anne was going to tell the tribal police, the principal, and the community center director I raped Lanae.”

“When did Sue Anne tell you this?” When he seemed reluctant to answer, I smacked him again. He screamed again. “Answer the question.”

“After you talked to her that day on the rez. I followed her home from work that night.” He whimpered and rocked. “It hurts.”

“Tough. Why did you leave Sue Anne to die on my front porch?”

“To make it look like the same person who’d killed Levi killed her.”

Then why hadn’t he used a gun on Sue Anne? Why had he used a knife to slit her throat? “You admit that, yet you expect me to believe you didn’t kill Levi?”

“No. I swear-”

“Did you set fire to the buildings?”

“I tried.”

“Why?”

“If you died, Hope would be in charge.” He rocked back. “Hope wanted to sell from the start. Don’t blame me-”

“Save it. Take me to her. Stand up.”

“I can’t.”

“Do it.”

“But it hurts.”

“Too bad. Get up.” Injured or not, I kept my eyes on him every single second. Slowly, Theo rolled to his good knee. His thin shoulders heaved. Looked like he was throwing up. He moaned loudly. He took his own sweet time wobbling upright to stand on one leg like a drunken crane.

The second he was vertical, his stance changed. When he lurched sideways and threw the rock at me, I reacted instinctively. I fired two shots at his heart, one shot in the center of his face.

The blasts knocked him back, knocked him flat, and he was dead before he hit the dirt. I didn’t need to double-check. I hadn’t missed. No one survived three direct hits from a large-caliber gun from ten feet. No one.

Wiping the sticky blood spatters on my face with the inside of my wet forearm, I assessed the situation. One dead guy. One dead horse. One ATV. Me, basically a one-armed bandit. My gaze landed on Theo. Tempting, to put my boot on his hip and send his body careening down the hillside. Let the buzzards and the coyotes take care of his worthless carcass, just like in the old days of the Wild West.

But that’d make it difficult for the rescue workers to bring his body back up. No point hiding the fact I’d killed him. It’d be a true test of my acting skills to work up an ounce of remorse.

Crouching down, I threw my gun in the garbage bag on top of the money and dragged it behind me. I limped between Queenie’s twitching body and Theo’s sprawled form toward the ATV. At least I wouldn’t have to rifle through a corpse’s pockets for the keys; they hung from the ignition like a silver charm.

I tossed the bag in the back of the four-wheeler. Didn’t help. Jesus. My shoulder socket burned as I climbed on and started up the machine.

Rain beat on my face. Thunder crashed and lightning spiked close by; my skin tingled, and the hair on the back of my neck prickled. When the back end of the ATV skidded out, I forced myself to slow down on the rain-slickened embankment. I couldn’t save Hope from the bottom of a ravine.

Just ahead a big cottonwood loomed above a misshapen lump.

Hope. Motionless.

Just like Levi.

No. Hot fear lanced me and I refused to look to the sky for the circle of crows. Once I reached her I cut the engine and bailed off, momentarily forgetting about my shoulder, but the instantaneous pain was a raw reminder.

I slipped in the muck, falling to my knees. Hope was curled up in a ball; her broken wrist flopped between her breasts like a dead trout. I leaned as close as I could without losing my balance. Blood crusted the middle of her face like a strawberry birthmark. I placed my finger on her carotid artery.

A faint pulse, but a pulse nonetheless. Thank God. I smoothed my shaking hand over her face, her arm, her throat; everything was icy cold.

Since I couldn’t pick her up I gently rolled her flat.

Burgundy spots of blood polka-dotted her white shirt. I didn’t see additional injuries. Hope might be in shock, but I wouldn’t have to field dress wounds before calling for medical attention.

It took four frustrating attempts to remove the cell phone from my left rear pocket with my right hand. Between the moisture and my trembling limb, the silver box squirted from my grasp like a slippery bar of soap. I plucked it up, crud and all, and hoped it hadn’t broken in my fall. I dialed 911.

Explaining the severity of the situation to dispatch didn’t go smoothly. Then again, babbling in a thunderstorm about an injured pregnant woman, a man I’d shot to death, and a dead horse could’ve sounded like a crank call.

After hanging up, I immediately called Jake. He knew exactly where I was on the ranch, but I had to talk fast to convince him to go to the house and stay there so he could lead the ambulance to us.

Now all I had to do was wait. As good as I was at the waiting game, it’d be a miracle if I didn’t go insane. I didn’t dare sit down or I’d pass out from pain. So I paced.

How many times had I been in situations like this? All over the world? Injured, waiting for help to arrive? Praying that everything would turn out all right once it did?

Dozens. Upon dozens. And as I paced in that sodden field, I realized I wouldn’t miss that part of my life a bit.

• • •

From my vantage point, I saw Jake gallop in on his horse Ace, the ambulance close on his horse’s hooves. The lights flashed red blue red blue in a blur, but the siren was silent. Two patrol cars finished up the motorcade. Jake’s mount shied and jerked hard to the left, instinctively fleeing from the dead horse and the scent of blood. He spurred in my direction.

The ambulance followed Jake. I pointed to my sister, lying on the ground. Rome and a guy I didn’t know jumped out. Hope didn’t stir as they checked her.

Jake dismounted and tied Ace to the cottonwood tree. He loped over and his gaze flicked me top to bottom. “You ain’t looking good. What’s wrong with your arm?”

“Dislocated my shoulder when I fell off the horse.”

His eyes went wide. “You rode out here?”

“Yeah. Long story.” I paused, returning my focus to the medical crew. “Sorry about Queenie. It happened so quick.”

“Might’ve been a heart attack. Not your fault.”

Our eyes met again. No recrimination in his, just concern.

“I’m not hurt as bad as Hope.”

“But bad enough.” Jake yelled, “Got another injury here that needs attention, Rome.”

“No. I’ll be fine. Just get Hope stabilized.”

“She is,” Rome said as he pushed to his feet. “Let me see you.”

“How is she?”

“Unconscious. The sooner we get her to Regional Hospital, the better. She isn’t in immediate danger so they aren’t sending the helicopter, especially in this weather.”

“What’ll happen once she gets there?”

“They’ll probably determine whether the break on her wrist requires surgery and reset her nose. We’ll have to wait and see on the prognosis for the baby.”

I’d forgotten about that. “So can we go right now?”

“Whoa. You aren’t going anywhere.” When he placed his hand on my biceps, my arm stung like he’d smacked me with a crowbar and it was difficult not to shriek with pain. “I’ll have to call for another ambulance for you.”

“What? Why can’t I ride with her?”

“Can’t have two injuries in the same cab. Against county policy.”

Another reminder of why I hated bureaucracy. “I am not going to sit here and wait for a fucking joyride while Hope is in surgery, Rome.”

“Calm down.”

“I am calm.”

“If there was any way around this-”

“There is. Fix me first.”

His startled gaze met mine. “Are you serious?”

A large figure was slogging across the field. Dawson. Through gritted teeth I said, “Yes. You’ve done this before, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then do it.”

“Dammit, Mercy, it doesn’t work like that. We need an ortho to reset it-”

“No. You do it. Now.” I shuffled closer. “I am going to the hospital with Hope in that ambulance. I don’t care if I have to ride into Rapid City on the damn roof one-handed.”

“You’re in shock.”

“Quit being a chickenshit. You aren’t going to make it worse.”

“Mercy, I don’t think-”

“Don’t fucking think,” I hissed. “Just do it.”

Resigned, Rome sighed and pointed to Jake’s hand. “Give her your glove so she’s got something to bite down on.”

Jake whisked off a thick glove and rolled it up lengthwise. “Open,” he said, and I unclenched my jaw. He worked it in my mouth across my tongue, stretching it until my teeth were covered in leather. “You sure about this, Mercy?”

I nodded.

“What do you need me to do?” Jake asked Rome.

“Brace yourself and hold on to her. No matter how tough she thinks she is, this is gonna hurt like a son of a bitch.”

No lie. I bore down, focusing on the rough texture of the glove against my tongue. The tangy taste of the sweat-stained leather and dirt burst in my mouth.

“Easy.” Rome placed his hand on my collarbone and I almost launched into orbit from the agony of that simple contact.

Jake became an immovable wall on my right side; my shoulder was jammed into the center of his chest. His left hand gripped my left hip. He wrapped my fingers around his right wrist and whispered, “Squeeze.”

I should’ve fallen back on my yoga training and deep uji breathing. Instead, I held my breath and my body rigid. Despite my claims, Rome couldn’t just pop it into place; he’d have to maneuver the bones back into proper position.

When Rome jiggled my arm back and forth, I squinched my eyes shut and swallowed the nausea. My breath stuttered in a muffled scream. Shit. That hurt.

“Easy. Almost got it.”

Liquid streamed down my face, couldn’t tell if it was tears or rain. I increased my grip on Jake’s wrist.

After a harsh jerk, something popped. It grated, bone grinding on bone, making my knees buckle from sheer blinding pain. The glove in my mouth couldn’t stifle my agonized howl. Saliva dribbled out the corners of my lips. Jake hauled me upright and held me steady while Rome finished the torture.

Rome twisted until everything snapped into place. I grunted, and the soggy glove dropped from my mouth. The burning sensation morphed into a constant throb. Rome gently lowered my arm as I buried my face into Jake’s neck, sagging against him.

I couldn’t catch my breath. I shook like a wet dog. I should’ve been mortified that I looked weak, but I hurt too bad to care.

Dawson said, “She okay? What happened?”

Rome said, “Dislocated her shoulder.”

“Shit.” Then, “Why isn’t she getting treatment down by the ambulance?”

“Because I just reset it for her.”

“Christ! Are you kidding me?”

Jake was stroking my hair and murmuring softly in Lakota.

“You aren’t supposed to-”

“I know,” Rome snapped. “She insisted.”

“What in the hell were you thinking, Mercy?” Dawson said.

I stepped back and gazed at Jake, mouthing thank you. “I’m thinking it’s time to get Hope to the hospital.” I didn’t look at Dawson until he blocked me in.

“Not so fast. You have to answer some questions first.”

“Later.”

“Now.”

I blinked the moisture from my eyes. “Then you’ll have to cuff me, Sheriff, nothing besides metal bracelets will keep me here. Nothing.” I lowered my voice. “But we both know I can take you in a ground fight, so don’t even try to stop me.”

“Don’t push me, Gunderson.”

“Don’t think I won’t shoot through you, just like I shot through Theo, to get to my sister, Dawson.”

Hard cop stare. “You admitting you shot him?”

My hard stare right back didn’t waver. “Yep.”

Rome and Jake crowded in around me. “Mercy isn’t going anywhere besides the hospital,” Rome said.

“Back off,” Dawson warned. “That’s a county ambulance you’re driving. Last I knew, you worked for me.”

“Last I knew, it was an elected position,” Rome retorted. “And if you want to keep the job as sheriff come election time, you’ll let her go right now.”

“You threatening me?”

“Just stating the facts. After what she’s been through in the last month, not to mention what she went through today, she doesn’t need this right now.”

Dawson’s gaze moved between the three of us. I gave him credit; his eyes didn’t linger on me. No one would suspect he’d rolled out of my bed yesterday morning.

“Fine. Answer this, Miz Gunderson: am I gonna run across any other bodies up here?”

“No.”

He pressed his nose to mine. “The second you’re cleared from the hospital, the second, I expect you in my office.”

“Rome,” the short guy shouted from beside Hope’s stretcher. “She’s ready. Let’s go.”

Jake wrapped his jacket around me and said, “I’ll stick around, see if Dawson needs anything else. Once this is done, I’ll call Sophie and we’ll head to the hospital.”

I nodded.

Jake and Rome kept me sequestered from Dawson as I climbed into the back of the ambulance and endured the hellish back-roads ride into Rapid City.

Rome must’ve done a good job setting my shoulder. The emergency room doc injected a muscle relaxant, slid my arm into a sling, and told me to have the VA follow up.

Hope’s wrist didn’t require surgery. The on-call ortho gave her a local anesthetic, reset it and her finger. The ear, nose, and throat doc was called in, and she reset Hope’s nose. Near as anyone could tell the pregnancy hadn’t been compromised.

Hope hadn’t regained consciousness. The staff assured me she was fine, just under a self-imposed hypnotic sleep. I remembered the catatonic state Hope had lingered in for days after she’d shot Jenny Newsome, and I wasn’t surprised that’s how her body and mind dealt with trauma.

How did I deal with trauma? I paced.

Jake and Sophie showed up. Sophie clucked around me like a grandmother peahen. I let her. She volunteered to stay with Hope while Jake drove me to the sheriff’s office. The sooner I got it over with, the sooner I could get back to the hospital. And tell my sister I’d killed her lover. Yeah. I could hardly wait for that conversation.

On the ride back home I didn’t want to talk. Jake didn’t seem to care. “Did Theo tell you he killed Levi?”

I directed my attention out the window. Not that I could see anything beyond the wall of grayish-blue clouds and ribbons of silver drizzle trickling down the glass.

“Mercy?”

“He said he didn’t kill him.”

“And you believe him?”

“I don’t know. He admitted that he killed Sue Anne and that he’d set the fires, so I think he would’ve bragged if he’d killed Levi.” Theo’s words: I wanted to make it look like the same person killed Sue Anne and Levi taunted me. Theo hadn’t known how Levi had died. Hope had kept her promise.

“If he didn’t do it, then who did?”

“I don’t know. It doesn’t make sense.” I told him everything Hiram and Theo had told me.

Jake’s jaw was so tight I expected it’d crack. “Do you think Kit might’ve done it?”

“Again, I don’t know.”

“What a piece of shit,” he said.

I didn’t know if he was talking about Theo or Kit since the description fit both of them. “Did you know about Hope and Theo?”

“No.” He sighed, rubbing the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Well, that ain’t true. I knew she was seeing somebody, but I wasn’t sure who.”

“Dad didn’t know?”

Jake shook his head. “As far as Wyatt knew…”

“What?”

“It ain’t my place to say.”

“Then whose is it?” I faced him. “Spit it out, Jake.”

He switched lanes to pass a rusted-out VW love wagon with Oregon plates. “First, I wanna know if you’ve hidden a gun in that sling.”

“The sheriff has my gun, remember?”

Jake shot me a sardonic look. “We both know you have more than one gun.”

“I’m unarmed for a change. Come on. Tell me.”

“A few weeks before Theo came into the picture, Hope and I had… gotten together again.”

I braced myself for my burst of anger. None came. Huh. Maybe the pain meds had mellowed me. Then his real meaning hit me. “The baby is yours?”

“Maybe. Hope had been feeling awful poorly, just like before with Levi. But I chalked it up to her being heartsick because of Wyatt dying. Then when unci told me Hope was pregnant…”

I hated that he never seemed to finish a sentence. “And?”

“And before I could talk to her about whether it was mine, Levi was killed. She had plenty of other things on her mind.” He paused to gather his thoughts. “Wyatt knew I stuck around all these years because of Levi. He never understood why Hope wanted to keep it a secret, ’specially after Mario Arpel died, but he accepted her decision. Now I feel like it’s happening all over again.”

Jake had hovered on the outskirts like an obedient dog, abiding by Hope’s wishes, waiting for scraps, when he should’ve stood up to her and demanded his paternal rights. But that wasn’t Jake’s way. Which is why Jake and I were never a good match.

I thought back to the dance. Hope and Theo had been discreet. Theo hadn’t sat in the front pew with her at Levi’s funeral. He hadn’t horned his way into anything, besides his interest in the ranch. “You think anyone in the community knows Hope was with Theo?”

“Not many.” He frowned. “Why?”

“Then there’s no reason for you and Hope not to go public with the fact she’s carrying your child.”

Jake turned toward me so fast he jerked the wheel and the back end of the truck skidded out. “What are you talking about?”

“Hope needs someone to take care of her; we both know that. Since the odds are good that lump in her belly could be your child, she should turn to you.” I was spinning this so hard I made myself dizzy. “Secret lovers bonding over tragedy. People love that romantic claptrap.”

Jake’s wide-eyed gaze remained on me instead of on the road. “You’re plum crazy.”

“You get a second chance to raise a child with her, and you get to look like a hero not only in her eyes, but in the eyes of the community.”

His face might’ve held skepticism, but his body language read interest. “Got it all figured out, doncha?”

“You have a better idea?”

“Nope. But I’d sure like to know what kinda drugs they pumped into you at the hospital.” He cocked his head and nervously slid his hands up and down on the steering wheel. “Weren’t more’n a coupla days ago you threatened to pierce my forehead with lead because of my past with your sister. And you were convinced I’d do anything to get my hands on the ranch. Now it’s like you’re holding an invisible shotgun to my head and telling me I gotta fall in line with your plans. What gives?”

How did I explain? Could I? Without sounding like a sappy Hallmark greeting card?

“Since all this has happened…” Raindrops beaded on the window, zigzagging a random pewter path before the wind wicked it away. “I’m tired of fighting, Jake. War. The ranch. With everyone around me. With myself. At my age, it’s hard to swallow my pride and admit that even when I thought I hated this place, I’ve never really fit anywhere else.”

Jake didn’t comment, which wasn’t a big surprise. The rest of the drive was silent.

When we turned up the rutted driveway I’d traveled a million times, Jake looked over at me and said softly, “Welcome home, Mercy Gunderson.”

For once I was grateful for his stoicism as I blinked back my tears.

Amid the clouds of misty fog I could tell the ranch was deserted. I don’t know if I expected Dawson to be lying in wait for me. I wasn’t disappointed, but I couldn’t shake the feeling I hadn’t seen the worst of this day.

Jake parked the truck behind the big barn while I trudged up the porch steps into the house. I needed a hot shower to wash away the grime and blood. Right after I downed a shot of whiskey or two to blur the grimy, bloody images in my mind.

I debated on how I’d unhook the sling to get my clothes off without help, when I heard a car pull into the yard. Great. Maybe Dawson had come looking for me. I knocked back a mouthful of fortification before I shuffled back outside.

Iris Newsome lingered at the bottom of the steps, her wrinkled face pinched with concern.

After the day I’d had, the last thing I needed was to hear her boring-ass pitch about my responsibilities as a landowner as she waved a petition in my face.

“Good Lord, Mercy. I just heard what happened.”

I frowned. “Bad news travels fast.”

“Is Hope all right?” Iris peered over my shoulder before those sharp birdlike eyes pierced mine. “Is she here?”

“No. She’s at the hospital.”

“Oh. That’s good. Unless…” Her hand fluttered by her sagging chin. “Did she lose the baby?”

How had Iris known about the pregnancy? I knew for a fact Hope wasn’t babbling near and far. “They’re keeping her overnight for observation.”

“And you’re here? Instead of being at the hospital with your poor sister?”

Stung by her chiding tone, I found myself nodding. “Temporarily. I have to turn myself in to the sheriff for questioning.”

“Why?”

“Standard procedure.”

“Isn’t it a clear case of self-defense?”

Did I look as confused as I felt? I eased down the steps, giving my brain time to clear a path through the pain meds and the whiskey. I doubted Dawson had released the fact I’d shot and killed Theo to the general public, especially since I hadn’t been officially interviewed. So how did Iris know what’d gone down only a few hours ago?

Logic said she’d been listening to a police scanner. Still, my spidey sense tingled. I had to play this cool. “Well, Dawson is cautious.”

“Cautious? The man is a buffoon. You’d think he’d be more concerned with figuring out who put two bullets in Levi, rather than putting you and Hope through more hell.”

My stomach pitched, my vision went blurry. Dawson had insisted on keeping Levi’s manner of death under wraps. Only a handful of people knew how Levi had been executed.

Including the murderer.

My thoughts rewound to Levi telling me he had someone to talk to. Someone who understood what he was going through. Someone who knew that section of land, Levi’s brooding spot. Someone who lived close by with easy access.

Snippets of conversations popped up. When Levi had said “she,” I’d assumed he’d meant Sue Anne. But “she” was Iris Newsome. A trusted family friend. A woman who was no stranger to tragedy. A mother who’d been grieving for her child for years.

A psycho who’d bided her time to take retribution on the person who had killed that child, by killing her child.

If I’d felt murderous rage before, it was nothing compared to how I felt now. But I was at a serious disadvantage to act on my violent impulse, unarmed, injured, and drugged up.

Before I could take action, Iris knocked me off balance, whipped me around, jerking my head back by my hair. A knife appeared in my peripheral vision.

“I’ll sign your stupid petition, okay? You don’t have to strong-arm me.”

“Don’t get cute with me, Mercy.”

“I’m not. What is going on? Why are you-”

“It’s too late to play dumb. Put your right hand in your front pocket.”

I got it halfway in. “That’s the farthest-”

“All the way.” She dug the knife deeper into my windpipe until my hand was completely buried in the pocket.

The knife tip gouged my throat with each jarring footstep. Blood ran and mixed with the rain as she frog-marched me through mud puddles to the fence.

“No one will believe I slit my own throat.”

“I’m not going to use the knife. You’re about to take a swim in the stock tank.” Iris clucked her tongue. “Such a pity. You lost your balance, bumped your head, and fell in. Not so unbelievable that you’d drown with an injured arm.”

“How long did you plan this?” I demanded.

“Drowning you? Spur of the moment.” Iris pulled my hair with enough force she ripped chunks out. “But I’ll enjoy watching Hope grieve over you, too. Move it.”

At this point I had nothing to lose by goading her. “God won’t condone you killing Levi because of Jenny’s death. That eye-for-an-eye stuff is bullshit. Aren’t you supposed to turn the other cheek?”

“I’d followed the Christian way and forgiven Hope… until she got knocked up. The little whore didn’t deserve a baby after I’d lost mine. Hope needed to suffer humility, just like I did, so she’d know what it’s like to be childless and alone.”

Iris’s comment from the day of Levi’s funeral floated back to me. I see her, and it’s just not fair. Iris hadn’t been talking about Hope grieving over Levi; she’d been talking about Hope being alive instead of Jenny.

She thrust me against the stock tank until the steel rim bit into my upper thighs.

It’d be impossible to fight her off without the use of my hands. Yet I wouldn’t let her drown me like a rat. If I kicked sideways and knocked her over, it’d give me a chance to run.

Iris yanked my head back. “Don’t fight it. I hear drowning is peaceful.”

“You vindictive bitch.”

She twisted the tip of the knife deeper into my flesh. “You have no idea. I liked that Levi always trusted me. I liked the look on Levi’s face as I shot him in the heart. I liked watching those big brown eyes widen with fear as I put the barrel to his head and pulled the trigger. “

She’d described his last moment so vividly Levi’s terror beat in my blood. Gunpowder filled my nostrils. My heart stopped beating. My head pounded. I was suffocating. I was dying.

Mercy. Focus.

I shook off the shock and the muzzy feeling, bringing up my foot to deliver a snapping side kick to her knee.

A loud ringing clank echoed next to my ear. Then the knife dropped from my throat, the death grip in my hair loosened.

With both hands immobilized, I lost my balance and crashed sideways, but I managed to twist and land on my back, not my shoulder. The air left my lungs in a rush.

Through the blood rushing in my ears and another helping of excruciating pain, I heard thwack thwack thwack.

Once I could breathe again, I focused on the rhythmic noises. I wiggled my hand out of my front pocket and rolled to my knees. Slowly, still fighting dizziness, I raised my head and saw Jake standing over Iris’s prone body wielding a flathead shovel.

Jake swung over and over. Smacking her in the head, taking chunks out wherever the steel edge hit: her arms, her legs, her back. Blood glistened on the steel. Red spatters smeared the wooden handle and covered Jake’s forearms.

I forced my gaze to Jake’s face and saw agony, rage, madness, and bloodlust. With every downstroke, a hitching wail broke forth from his mouth.

Bracing a hand on the lip of the stock tank, I stood on shaking legs. Jake didn’t miss a beat. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. I cleared my heart from my throat. I shouted, “Jake. Enough.”

He froze and looked over at me, the shovel stopping in midair.

I recognized that shell-shocked look. I’d seen it on soldiers. On civilians. In the mirror.

“Mercy? What? How…” He glanced at the body at his feet.

“Take a deep breath and put down the shovel.”

He swung the shovel again. The corner connected with the muddy ground next to Iris’ face. I admit, I cringed for a second, fearing he’d splice her head like a ripe cantaloupe.

“I-I heard her talking. When she said she liked killing him and how scared he was at the end… I-I lost it.”

“It’s okay, Jake.”

“No, it’s not!” He stared at Iris’s body, seeming to really see it, to really see what he’d done to her, for the first time. His face lost all color. “Oh God. I did that?”

The shovel slid from his blood-covered hands and clanked against the rim of the stock tank. He dropped to all fours and began to dry-heave.

We didn’t have time for him to have a crisis, even when it was justified. I hobbled over to him. “It’s over. You avenged Levi. You saved my life. No shame in that.”

“But look at what I did to her. Jesus. No. Don’t look. I can’t look…” More retching sounds, more keening sobs.

Iris’s body was seriously fucked up. Deep gashes cut through her clothing. She looked like… someone had beat her to death with a shovel. “Jake. Listen-”

“You don’t understand. I’m Indian. She’s white. When Dawson sees her like this, he ain’t buying it was self-defense.”

“He won’t find out.”

Jake lifted his face. “What did you say?”

“Pull yourself together because we have to get rid of this body right now. We’re planting Iris someplace else.”

He sputtered, “B-but that’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong is she murdered your son. She was a malicious, bitter woman, and if you hadn’t killed her, I would have. And trust me, the way I planned to do it? No one would’ve mistaken it as self-defense.”

There was that look of fear I’d gloried in when I’d made my late-night visit. He’d fall in line. He had no choice.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what? Getting rid of her body?”

“No. Protecting me.”

“Besides that you’re indispensable to the ranch?” I locked my eyes to his. “Because whether I like it or not, you’re family, Jake. We take care of our own.”

A beat passed. Jake nodded once. “What now?”

“Get an old blanket and a tarp and bring the truck over here. Hurry.”

As Jake drove the rig around, I made sure Iris’s keys were in the ignition of her Honda. Jake and I rolled her up in the motheaten burlap tarp. Neither of us was particularly gentle with her remains; she didn’t deserve dignity.

With my bum arm I wasn’t any help loading her into the truck bed. I already knew a dead body is tough to maneuver. Jake was learning firsthand.

“Now what?” he panted.

“Take her to that ravine about two miles north, where the Newsome Ranch borders ours. It’s a ways out, which makes it perfect. Get on the rutted road that snakes down and dump her in the gully, but make sure she isn’t on our land, and make damn sure you leave nothing that can be traced back here. You’ll have to be really careful because I’ve heard those crazy religious freaks keep a close eye on things.”

“I know. What’ll you be doing?”

I grabbed the blanket and pointed to Iris’s car. “Halfway between here and their place I noticed the fence was down, so I’ll drive in as far as I can go. Then I’ll double-back across the field on foot.”

“You really think once someone finds the abandoned car they’ll believe she walked that far? By herself?”

“I don’t care because it won’t be our problem.”

Jake gave me a once-over. “You wearing that to the sheriff’s office?”

Mud covered my shirt. Every piece of my wet clothing clung to me. My boots squished. The last thing I wanted was Dawson grilling me on why I’d stopped home and cleaned up. Showing up gross and dirty at the sheriff’s department was a great alibi. “Yeah.” My gaze moved over him head to toe. “You have an extra set of clothes?”

“In the tack room.”

“Stop and change afterward. Wrap up those clothes in the tarp and stuff them in the grease barrel in the machine shed. We’ll burn them later. I’ll need gloves. Or rather, a glove.”

Jake rummaged around inside the cab. He waved a yellow cotton glove liner and held it out for me. “This ain’t the first time you’ve done something like this.”

A statement. Not a question that required an answer.