CHAPTER NINETEEN

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Rainhorse had positioned himself high in an old Elm tree about twenty-five yards away from the barn where he believed Rose Rattling Thunder would later meet the twins.  From his position he saw the bodyguards arrive around six-thirty—there were four of them.  He could also see through the dining room window, where the poker table had been set up. He saw players trickling in, mostly elderly Sioux and Lakota men, wearing expensive clothes, watches with gold rings and chains.

At the head of the table was a Sioux woman, who he thought had to be Rose Rattling Thunder. He also saw her father, smiling, shaking hands and kissing the asses of the high rollers.

Rainhorse had seen Rose walk into the diner with Apollo and HRT, but it was from a distance, so this was his first good look at the heir apparent to the Rattling Thunder crime enterprise.

After a thirty-minute meet and greet, things settled down and play began around seven-thirty-five. He noted that, after a cursory sweep of the grounds when they first arrived, none of the bodyguards made their way to the back again.  They all remained in front of the house, where they believed any potential threat would approach.

An hour went by, then two, then three. None of the players moved from the table, except to get a drink or use the bathroom. Rainhorse listened to sounds of laughter and the occasional dispute, but other than that, nothing happened he considered to be out of the ordinary. Finally, at just after ten o’clock, Rainhorse saw the players stirring, standing, stretching. Only moments later did he catch sight of the twins, walking toward the barn. Rose Rattling Thunder was nowhere to be seen.

Chapa and Chumani entered the barn. It was a full ten-minutes later before he saw Rose Rattling Thunder appear. He smiled as he saw her carrying a six-pack of beer toward the barn. He had guessed right.

He waited ten-minutes before climbing down from the tree and quietly slipping into the barn from the rear.  He could hear Rose and the twins laughing in the stable. He smelled cigarettes and kerosene and saw the soft amber glow of the lamps filtering past the stable door, which was closed.

He peeked over the top of the stable door and saw the three of them sitting on the bales of hay.  He heard a cheap sounding radio playing Magic Carpet Ride, by Steppenwolf. They were having a grand time, seeming to not have a care in the world.

Rainhorse barged through the stable door with his gun pointed in the air. One of the twins stood and drew a breath to scream. He grabbed her, jerked her toward him and covered her mouth to squelch a scream, all with only his left hand and arm. He put the barrel of his pistol to his lips, and gave a long loud, raspy, “Shhhhhhhhhh.”

Rose reached for her purse. Rainhorse glared at her and pointed his gun at her head, “Do not think about it. This gun has a silencer and can quietly spread your brains across the back wall before you can make a peep.”

Rose froze.

Rainhorse got a much closer look at the Sioux woman.  She was petite, but very shapely. She was close to the same age as Neha and nearly as beautiful but in a hardened manner. She wore no makeup and her skin was smooth, but slightly leathery-looking.

“Leave us alone,” Chumani cried out.

“Quiet, I said. I am not here to hurt any of you,” Rainhorse said, “but I can only make that promise if you all keep your cool and not make noise. Understood?”

The twins nodded, so did Rose. “Turn off the radio,” Rainhorse said.  Chumani turned it off and resumed her motionless position with her hands in the air.

He then lowered the gun, again pointing it at Rose's forehead. She was frozen in place but did not appear to be scared in the least. She simply glowered at him. The two girls, however, were severely shaken. They seemed perfectly content to remain quiet and motionless.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Rose said. “Who the hell are you?”

“You and I are going to have some time to get to know each other when we are on the road,” he said. “For now, I need to secure these young girls.”

“I'm not going anywhere with you,” she barked.

“Keep your voice down,” Rainhorse demanded. “I would prefer not to knock you out and carry you, but I’m prepared to do so. Now, each of you, toss your cell phones onto the floor in front of you.”

Rose and both twins complied. Rainhorse used his boot heel to crush the phones. Chumani used her hands to squelch a scream watching her phone being crushed.

Rainhorse pulled a series of cinch straps out of his pocket. There were three of them bound loosely together, forming makeshift handcuffs.

“I want each of you to slip these over your wrists, quietly,” he said. “Do it now.” The twins reached for them right away. Rose Rattling Thunder hesitated. He cocked his pistol loudly and pointed it at her. She did not flinch but the twins gasped.

Slowly, Rose reached for the cinch straps, slipping them onto her wrists. She looked up at the big Cheyenne. There was hate in her eyes. Rainhorse tightened Rose’s first, tightening and locking them in place, then did the same with Chumani and Chapa.  He pulled the bag from his back pack. It was the very same bag he used on Lindsay two years before.  Rose resisted, kicking at him, but he got the bag over her head and locked into place.

“Don’t move or I’ll knock you out cold,” Rainhorse said to Rose. “Nod, if you understand.”

She paused for a second. Rainhorse could see the bag expand and compress with her breathing. He could feel the anger emanating from her. Finally, she nodded.

He then gagged each of the girls and used two additional cinch straps to tie them to a guard rail in the stable. He peeked out of the stable into the rest of the barn—all clear.

The former Ranger picked up Rose’s purse and emptied the contents onto the ground. There was a small handgun and one other thing of note, a five by eight-inch leather-bound book. It seemed to be a diary or some sort of journal. He picked it up and stuffed it into his backpack, along with her gun.

He pulled Rose to her feet by the back of her coat collar. He reached into his pocket and pulled an envelope, tossing it on the ground in front of the twins. He looked at his watch and then the young girls, “In about eighteen minutes the men inside will reconvene the poker game. When Rose does not show, the will come looking for her. They will find you.  Make sure they see this envelope. It will explain everything. Do you understand?”

They both had tears in their eyes, frightened to death, but they both nodded.

Rainhorse nodded and tugged on Rose’s collar. She followed.

The former Ranger guided Rose by the neck collar back to Ellie’s Jeep. He had cinches prepared and already in place to secure Rose’s hands to the security grab handle above the passenger door.  He looked at his watch. He had about six minutes before they would begin to wonder where Rose was. He needed to put as much distance between himself and the house as possible.

So far, so good. The operation had thus far gone without a hitch. He looked at Rose. He saw her chest heaving.  She was breathing heavily. It was more than just the walk, he thought. The reality of what was happening to her had finally settled in. She was frightened. Good. He could use that later.

He started the Jeep and took off. He stopped when he reached the main road. He unlocked the bag and unzipped it, exposing her mouth, but leaving her eyes covered.

She spit at Rainhorse.

“Now, that was not very nice,” he said, resisting the urge to backhand her across the face.  He wiped the saliva from his cheek.

“Let me go, you son-of-a-bitch,” she demanded.

“Not likely,” he replied.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To a remote location, where you will be held until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Why, tomorrow afternoon?”

“That is when I intend to exchange your life for the lives of Lona Littlebird, Ska Red Feather and the other girls your father has kidnapped.”

“You’re crazy,” she barked. “My father will kill you.”

“Better men have tried,” he replied.

“He’ll never give in to your demands,” she insisted.

“Oh, I think he will,” Rainhorse said. “I think he will do anything to keep you from harm.”

“He’ll find you,” she came back.

“He might if he had time,” came the reply. “He will not. Tell me this. Are Lona Littlebird and Ska Red Feather safe and unharmed?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she maintained.

“Look,” Rainhorse said. “Whether you like it or not, we are going to be spending a few hours together. So, let’s do this the easy way, shall we?”

“Are you the man who killed my father’s bodyguards?” she asked.

“And Apollo’s, too,” he replied. “Yep, that’d be me.”

“Do you intend to hurt me?”

“Not if you tell me what I need to know and not if your father plays nicely,” he said.

He pulled over to the side of the road and stopped the Jeep.  He jerked the bag off her head.

She glared at Rainhorse, wide-eyed. She took in a breath and held it. He pulled a large, serrated blade from its sheath and showed it to her. He smiled. It was time for his Oscar-worthy performance speech, one he had used many times in the past . . . quite effectively.

“I have little time, Rose, certainly not enough to go through a little lying dance,” he said. “You know I killed Apollo’s and your father’s bodyguards. You know what I’m capable of doing. I have done things in the past that I hoped I would never have to do again, but . . . I am prepared to do so.”

Rose gasped and began to hyperventilate, “What kind of things?”

Rainhorse flashed a wicked smile, “Things that involve torture,” he continued. “I can make things quite unpleasant for you to get the information I need. Neither one of us want that. I’ve been trained to inflict unimaginable pain—the kind you’d probably live through but never recover from, if you know what I mean. I don’t want to do that, though. It’s exhausting for me and you’ll end up maimed for life . . . that’s if you do actually live through it. I’ll still find out what I want to know and your face will be . . . horribly scarred.  Can we please avoid this?”

Her expression transformed from combative to fearful. He saw tears beginning to well in her eyes for the first time. He had her—he knew it.

She fell silent. Rainhorse allowed the silence to linger as she mulled over her situation.

“If I talk to you, you will not hurt me?” she asked, finally.

The venom in her voice had disappeared, he noted. She was speaking timidly now. He smiled again.  He’d never tortured anyone in his life, much less a woman. He had learned early on that the threat of torture—the anticipation of it—was good enough. For women, forget the threat of rape or a beating. Rainhorse had always gotten the information he wanted by threatening to disfigure a woman’s face.

“I will not hurt you if you tell me the truth,” he said. “And you should know, I was well-trained in the art of interrogation as a Ranger. I will know when you are lying.”

Rose drew in a breath and held it.

“I don’t know who Ska Red Feather is,” she replied. “Lona is being well cared for. Father wants her looking her absolute best when she is delivered.”

“When I found you, I took a book from your purse,” Rainhorse said.

Rose involuntarily gasped, “You have my journal?”

“I do. What’s in it?”

“Nothing,” she snapped. “Just random personal notes.”

“Your reaction a moment ago suggests otherwise.”

“This was a mistake. I’m done talking,” she said.

“I am not, however,” the former Ranger said, “and I do not have much time. I want to move onto more important things. How many girls are being held?”

“I don’t know.”

“Remember what I said about lying?” he scowled, holding the tip of the blade to her neck, pressing it tight enough to her skin that it drew a tiny flow of blood. He moved the tip of the bloody blade to her cheek, pressing it against her skin lightly.

She gasped again. Her eyes widened in horror.

“You know, there are muscles in your cheeks that I can sever that will not only make a horrible scar, but cause your whole face to droop,” the Cheyenne said. “Even the most gifted plastic surgeons cannot fix it.”

He pressed the tip of the blade harder on her cheek.

“No!” she cried out. “Stop.”

"How many?" he repeated in a raspy voice.

“There are six, total, counting Lona and the other girl, Ska. You know, even if my father would agree to the exchange, Apollo will never allow it,” Rose said. “Apollo doesn’t give two shits about me.”

“I think your father will be very convincing,” the big Cheyenne replied. “After all, it is your father’s friend, Joey Takoda, who is holding the girls. I would say that gives him a little leverage.   It may even cause a battle between Rattling Thunder and Apollo—all the better.  In that fight, my money is on your dad. Protecting one’s children brings out the best in men, would you not agree?”

“How do you know about Takoda?” she asked.

Rainhorse saw Rose’s body stiffen at the mention of Joey Takoda’s name. It was the first actual verification that indeed, Joey Takoda was holding the girls.

“A little birdie told me. You know what I do not understand,” Rainhorse said. “You seem to genuinely care about Chumani and Chapa . . .”

“I do.”

“Lona is their best friend,” he boomed. “How could you be part of that?”

“Business is business,” she said. “Besides, Lona will live like a queen. She is being sold to one of the wealthiest men in Asia. Her life will be far better with him than it would be here on the res.”

“Oh, so you’re helping her?” the former Ranger replied, incredulously. “Maybe you haven’t heard the news, then. Apollo changed his mind. He’s selling her to some sicko who’s into bondage and torture.”

“Biondo?” she asked.

“I don’t know his name.”

“Biondo was never part of the plan,” she insisted. “I don’t believe you . . .”

“Apollo told me on the phone, himself,” the Cheyenne said.

Rose fell silent. Rainhorse could see her chest expanding and contracting. She was breathing deeply.  He slid the bag back on her head, leaving her mouth exposed. He threw the vehicle into gear and began to drive again. They drove in silence for about ten minutes.

“I’m sorry,” Rose said, quietly.

Rainhorse did not answer.

“I did not know Apollo was selling Lona to Biondo,” she continued. “If I had known this . . .”

“If you had known . . . what? You mean it was ok to kidnap her from her mother and sell her for profit, as long as it was to the buyer of your choice? You are a Sioux woman, kidnapping the children of your own people and selling them for profit. You’re disgusting . . .”

Before Rainhorse could finish his thought, he felt the force of a large vehicle slamming into the rear of his Jeep. The Jeep lunged forward. Rose shrieked. He looked in the mirror.  Cutting through the darkness he saw the chrome of the full-sized truck’s bumpers glistening in the moonlight. A large truck had been following them with its lights switched off.

“Dammit!” screamed Rainhorse. “How can that be? It’s only been a few . . .”

The truck slammed into the rear of the Jeep again, switching on its headlamps, flooding the Jeep’s interior with light.

“Dammit!” Rainhorse exclaimed. Rose cried out again, louder than before.

“My father is aware of the trail leading to the back of the house,” Rose bellowed. “He always positions a guard on the highway near the trail. I told you that he’d find me.”

“At this rate, that idiot is going to kill me and you, both,” Rainhorse said.

“Stop the car,” Rose boomed. “You can still walk away. It’s over for you.”

“Like hell,” he replied. Rainhorse looked in his rearview mirror and saw the truck speeding up, preparing to slam his Jeep a third time. The former Ranger waited until the last possible second before impact and swerved hard left into the opposite lane and then slammed on his brake.  The momentum of the Jeep caused the right two wheels to come off the ground, nearly upending the vehicle. Rose screamed, but Rainhorse managed to maintain control. Both he and Rose were propelled forward but were caught by their seat belts. The truck’s momentum carried it past the Jeep. The driver of the truck slammed on his brakes, as well. The truck screeched to a halt, swerving sideways.

Rainhorse threw the Jeep’s transmission into park, unbuckled his seat belt, pulled his pistol and stepped out of the vehicle. The Sioux driving the truck rolled down the window but never got off a shot. Rainhorse shot him through the forehead before the window was completely rolled down. The body of the truck’s driver slumped, causing him to release his foot from the brake. The truck rolled slowly off the road.

He got back inside the Jeep and pulled away.

“What happened?” asked Rose, still wearing the bag over her eyes.

“Nothing good for your side,” he replied.

“You know, more men will come?” she said.

“Fortunately, I’m prepared,” he replied. “Any more men HRT called to find us on this road will be sorely disappointed.”

Lindsay had given him a map with an alternate route back to Ellie’s cabin in the event he thought he was being followed. It meant he would once again get off the main road, although the detour would cost him an additional forty minutes of driving time.

Thank you again, Lindsay, he thought.