CHAPTER TWENTY

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Rainhorse pulled the bag back down over Rose’s mouth and locked it. He drove in silence. Rose made no further attempts to talk. When he was five minutes away from the cabin he called Lindsay.

“I have Rose,” he said. “I am almost there.”

“We’ve been so worried about you,” Lindsay said. “You’re overdue. You never checked in.”

“I’ve been a little busy, Lindsay,” he stated.

“Neha is in the other room.  She is despondent.  She thought you were dead. Did everything go as planned?”

“I had a hiccup at the end,” he reported, “but otherwise, all went better than I expected.”

“You should have called sooner,” Lindsay said. “The closer we are getting to the end of all this, the more worried Neha is becoming. She has really deteriorated over the last few hours. I am really worried about her.”

“It is understandable,” Rainhorse said.

“The twins are ok?” she asked.

“Yes, they were a little frightened, but they are fine,” he replied. “I will be there soon.”

He hit end.

Rose said something, but the bag muffled the sound as it was intended to do. He reached over and zipped opened the bag, freeing her mouth.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“I said, it sounds like there’s trouble on the home front,” Rose answered. “It’s Neha Littlebird, isn’t it?”

“That is not your concern,” he said.

“We knew you were looking for Lona,” Rose said. “It has to be Neha. Who is the other girl? It’s the white girl from the diner, isn’t it?”

“Also . . . not your concern.”

“You don’t seem concerned that we know about Neha,” Rose continued. “That’s a mistake. You must know, when this is over, my father will never allow Neha to live. Even if you hide her now, he will eventually find her.”

“He will not,” Rainhorse insisted.  “When this is done, I am taking Neha and Lona far away from the res.”

“Good luck getting away with that,” she said.  Some of the fear she had felt earlier seemed to be dissipating.

“You are a world class bitch, you know that?” he said.

She nodded, “So I've been told. Tell me, why were you concerned about the twins’ safety?”

“Because, unlike you, I do not wish to see any child hurt.”

“Even the family of your enemy?”

“Even them. Children are not responsible for the crimes of their parents.”

Rose opened her mouth to say something, then paused, falling silent.

“We are here,” Rainhorse said.

Neha saw the Jeep pulling into the drive of Ellie Limberhand’s cabin. She burst out of the door toward the Jeep. Lindsay followed close behind. She opened the passenger door screaming.

“You evil bitch,” Neha wailed, flailing her fists at Rose’s midsection, “What have you done with my daughter?”

Rose screamed as Neha landed blow after blow to her stomach and the side of her head. Lindsay tried to pull Neha away, but the diminutive Sioux woman broke away and began attacking Rose again.

“Get your Pitbull off me,” Rose spouted.

It took several minutes for Lindsay and Rainhorse to calm Neha and escort her into the house.  Lindsay had prepared a special room for Rose. She used aluminum foil to block out the windows from the outside in the bedroom and the bathroom, so Rose would be unable to see her surroundings.

She had prepared a chair with cinch straps to secure Rose in a comfortable seating position in the room. Once Rainhorse had her secured, he turned to Lindsay.

“How is Neha?”

“She is in her room, laying down,” Lindsay said. “She is calming down some.”

Rainhorse failed to anticipate an emotional outburst from Neha, though he fully understood it. The frustration and anger had been building in her. Her outward appearance of self-control had disappeared the moment she saw Rose.

“What time is it?” he asked.

“It’s one twenty-two in the morning, why?” responded Lindsay.

“Because in the envelope I left behind, I left instructions for Hank Rattling Thunder to call me at one-thirty.  You watch Rose. I’m going to grab the phone and put the battery in place and wait for the call outside.”

“Take this,” Lindsay said, handing Rainhorse a handwritten piece of paper.

“What is this?” he asked.

“It’s a plan for tomorrow,” she said. “Neha and I have it all mapped out. You’ll need it when you talk to HRT.”

He looked at it and smiled at Lindsay, “Thank you.  Be careful with Rose. She’s a real rattlesnake.”

“Don’t worry,” Lindsay said. “We’ll get along just fine. If she gives me any shit, I’ll turn her over to Neha.”

Rainhorse chuckled, “That would do the job. I’ll be back.”

Rainhorse walked out the front door, taking deep breaths, preparing himself for the call he knew would come. At one-twenty-nine, he placed the battery in the cell phone and turned it on. Less than thirty seconds later, the phone rang. The display read, CALLER UNKNOWN.

“This is Rattling Thunder, I presume,” Rainhorse began.

“You filthy Cheyenne sack of shit!” HRT screamed. “If you touch a hair on her head, I will light your balls on fire.”

He continued to wail obscenities and threats at the top of his lungs, demanding the immediate release of his daughter and threatening Rainhorse with all manner of torture. He used every obscenity and racial slur imaginable. The former Ranger listened for thirty seconds before interrupting.

“I’m hanging up,” he said, calmly. "You can call me back in ten minutes, if and only if, you are prepared to listen.”

“What?” HRT bellowed. “Don’t you even think about hanging up, you . . .”

Rainhorse hit the end button, and removed the battery again, knowing he was taking a calculated risk. The move could backfire and only make HRT angrier, but he needed to establish himself as the man in control. It would be he, not HRT, that set the tone of the conversation.

Exactly ten minutes later, Rainhorse placed the battery back in the phone and turned it on. It rang almost immediately.

“Don’t you dare touch a hair on her head,” he snapped in a controlled voice.

Rainhorse smiled at the concerned father’s attempt at restraint, “She has not been harmed and will not be, provided you play nice.”

“What do you want?” Hank Rattling Thunder said angrily.

“Listen very carefully,” Rainhorse ordered. “This call will not last long. You will not have time to triangulate the signal. I have Rose and I am prepared to kill her. You have already seen what I am capable of doing. You have Lona and I know you will kill her, too. I do not have a desire to hurt Rose. I just want Lona and the rest of the girls released—that’s it.”

“Bullshit!” HRT bellowed.

“Shut up and listen. Tomorrow at three o’clock in the afternoon, you will bring Lona, Ska and the other four girls you are holding to Wolf Point. Travel west on Blaine Street toward Town Pump Food Store.”

“That is where the farmer’s market is,” he interrupted. “There will be five hundred people there . . .”

“A thousand, I have read.”

“You’re crazy. I’m not doing that.”

“Yes, you are,” Rainhorse said, firmly. “Take west Blaine only. I will be watching. Across the street from Town Pump Food Store is a hardware store. Park in their parking lot and call this number. If you deviate from this instruction, Rose will be killed. That is all.”

“Please, do not hurt her,” HRT said, in an unexpected, vulnerable tone.

“You release Lona, Ska and the other girls unharmed, and I will hand over your daughter to you . . . also unharmed,” Rainhorse replied. “This I swear.”

“Wait!” screamed HRT, but Rainhorse had already disconnected the call. The phone began to ring again, almost immediately, but instead of answering it, he pulled the battery out.

“How did it go?” Neha said.

“How long have you been standing behind me?”

“Long enough,” she said. “Rainy, that was a dangerous game you were playing with my daughter’s life. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Rainhorse looked at Neha. Her expression was crestfallen. He literally felt much of the trust she had in him beginning to fade.

“This is a dangerous business,” he said. “I need you to trust me.”

Neha nodded, her expression still one of fear and disappointment, “I have a bad feeling about this.”

“I understand,” he said. “I wish I could offer you assurances.”

She nodded, “I need to be alone tonight. I hope you do not mind.”

“Of course. I will move an extra chair into the room where Rose is. I will sleep there so I can keep an eye on her.”

“Thank you. I’m so tired, Rainy. I’m going to bed.”

He nodded. She turned and walked back into the house.

Rainhorse followed her to the door. He walked into the bedroom where Rose was. She was tied to the chair, still wearing the bag. Rainhorse checked the integrity of the cinches.  Satisfied, he stood, and unzipped the bag and pulled it off.

She immediately spat at him again.

“Things are in motion,” he said, wiping saliva from his arm.

“You’ll never get away with this,” Rose snarled.

Rainhorse ignored her and dug into his back pocket and pulled out the leather-bound notebook he had taken from Rose’s purse earlier. His eyes widened as he began thumbing through it.

“I want to go back to an earlier discussion,” Rainhorse said. “What is this?”

Rose gasped and then tried to recover, “That’s . . . nothing. It’s personal. Just random notes I have made to . . .”

“Save it, Rose,” Rainhorse said. “I know exactly what this is. The question is, why does it exist? And why would you keep it with you?”

“You have no idea what that is . . .” she insisted.

“My guess is . . . it is insurance—leverage, perhaps?” Rainhorse said, ignoring her remark. “Not leverage against your father, though.  It is leverage against . . . Apollo, right?”

Rose fell quiet.  She flashed him a look, a combination of contempt, and something else, an emotion he couldn’t quite identify.

“Creating it was smart,” Rainhorse continued. “If the relationship between Apollo and your father ever goes sour, it would be great leverage for you. Or perhaps if your father unexpectedly turned up dead, the journal would have been your tool to stay in the game. I get why you did it.”

“Keep your friends close . . .” she said.

“And your enemies closer,” the Cheyenne finished. “I understand.”

“What do you intend to do with it?” she asked.

“You’ll see.”

“I see you know the concept of keeping your enemies close,” she said. “Does that mean, you intend to . . . keep me close?”

“You are as close as you will come,” he said.

He stood, slipping the notebook in his back pocket, and left the room. Lindsay was waiting on him.

“What was going on in there?” she asked, inquisitively.

“Just a little more . . . interrogation,” he responded.

“Neha is upset,” Lindsay said. “She is worried sick that this will not work.”

“I would be, too,” Rainhorse responded. “Make no mistake about this Lindsay, this could end badly.”

“I know you won’t let that happen. I have faith in you. I’m going to bed.”

“Lindsay,” he said, causing her to pause, “I’ve read through your plan. It is amazing. If we are somehow able to pull this off, it will be because of you.”

“Neha and I worked on it togeth. . .”

“I know who did the work on this, Lindsay,” he interrupted. “Your fingerprints are all over this, metaphorically speaking. Thank you.”

She nodded, “Good night.”

Rainhorse walked outside to the front porch where he knew he would not be overheard. There was only one thing left to do before morning. He dialed Vernon Gill, who answered on the first ring.

“Do you have Rose?” he asked. “Are we on?”

“We are,” Rainhorse said.