Holdin' On for a Hero (3 page)

Chance listened to the music that came over the line. She waited quite a while before her father answered. “Chance? Why in the world are you calling at this ungodly hour? Is something wrong?”

She ignored his questions. “Father, have you heard from Wyatt?”

“What?” Irritation was clear in his voice. “You call and wake me up to ask if I’ve heard from Wyatt?”

“Well, have you? I need to talk to him. Do you know where he is?”

“Chance, there’s nothing you need to talk to Wyatt about. How many times do I have to tell you that you and Wyatt are from different worlds? Surely by now you realize that he just doesn’t belong with our kind of people. He—”

“Don’t start!” she interrupted him. “I didn’t call for a lecture and I know how you feel. But that’s not important right now. All I want is to find out if you know how I can get in touch with him.”

“No,” came his sharp reply.

“Okay, sorry I bothered you. Bye.”

Without waiting for him to say more she hung up the phone. Sometimes her father really annoyed her. All the years Wyatt had lived with them, Maurice had treated him well. Wyatt had been the star of the football and basketball team in high school and Maurice had acted like he was really proud of him, bragging to other parents at the games about Wyatt’s skills. Now he acted like he couldn’t stand Wyatt and she didn’t understand it. She had a suspicion it had something to do with Patricia but no evidence to support it.

Dismissing thoughts of her father, she called long distance directory assistance and asked for the number for Wyatt’s father, John Wolfe. As soon as she scribbled the number down she severed the connection and dialed.

It rang many times and she was about to hang up when a man’s voice answered. “Hello?”

“Mr. Wolfe? Hi, this is Chance Davenport. How are you?”

“Fine, Chance.” His voice was strong and clear. “And you?”

“Just fine. I’m really sorry to bother you, but I’d like to get in touch with Wyatt and I don’t know where he’s stationed. Do you have a phone number or address for him?”

There was a momentary pause before he replied. “No, Chance. I don’t have a number for you. I’m sorry.”

She sighed in frustration. “Okay, well, thanks anyway, Mr. Wolfe. If you hear from him will you tell him I called and ask him to get in touch with me?”

“Yes, I’ll do that. Goodbye, Chance.”

“Bye.” She hung up the phone and paced back and forth for a minute. There had to be someone who would know where Wyatt was. The question was, who?

Chapter Two

Swain County
,
North Carolina

What felt like a giant drum pounded in his head, waking Wyatt from a drunken sleep. With a groan he opened his eyes. From the level of light in the room it appeared to be just after dawn.

Sitting up made his head pound harder. The horrible taste in his mouth made him grimace. “Must’ve drank a river,” he mumbled. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Alcohol seemed to be the only way to keep the dream at bay.

He could almost hear Digger’s voice in his mind. “Come on, man, you gotta get over this shit. Hell, turn on that woman magnet and find yourself another honey.”

“Yeah, that’s just what I need,” he murmured, making a face as he thought about his nickname. His SEAL team had nicknamed him Magnet a long time ago. It was short for Woman Magnet. Wyatt had never seen himself that way but all his team gave him hell about the way women came on to him.

He could remember overhearing his commander talk about him to another SEAL team leader who was interested in getting Wyatt transferred to his team. “The big Indian? Hell, that’s Magnet. Motherfucker’s too good-looking for his own good. Attracts women like flies to shit. But you won’t talk me out of him, you cocksucker. He’s the best scout we got. Can sneak up on anything. Anything. Son of a bitch’s so quiet he’ll be on your ass before you know he’s there. Not only that, the fucker fights like nothing you ever seen before. He’s a one-man squad all his own. So you keep your fucking hands off Magnet. He’s mine.”

When Wyatt had heard that he had felt an odd sense of pride. Not at being considered a woman magnet but at his commanding officer’s brusque compliment on his performance. Now he found himself wondering if that was really what he wanted to leave behind—the fact that he was a good killer.

He pushed aside the thoughts as he got off the bed and slowly walked into the bathroom. His reflection in the mirror over the sink seemed to confirm his suspicions. He looked like he had drunk a river. He brushed his teeth then stuck his head under the cold water, sucking in his breath at the chill.

The water cleared the cobwebs in his mind. With a towel draped over his hair he went into the den and added a couple of logs to the fire then went to the kitchen. He put on a pot of coffee and sat down at the table. As he dried his hair, he tried to remember the events of the past evening.

He remembered going to Ralph’s Bar and having a couple of drinks with Jimmy Martin and Billy Hawkes. They were talking about taking a trip up to West Virginia to ride the Gauley River. A couple of girls came over to the table and asked them to come to a party the upcoming weekend at Fontana Lake. The girls hung around for a little while and one of them suggested that she and Wyatt take a ride.

He had considered it, but passed. She struck him as the kind of girl who was looking for a husband and he was definitely not in the market. After three wives and far too many live-ins he had decided he was not suited for marriage or long-term relationships.

About nine o’clock, trouble walked in the door in the form of Greg Holling and his cadre of followers. Greg was the son of the richest man in the county, one of the richest in the state. His father, Winston Yale Holling, practically owned the town of Bryson and most of the county. Many of the Cherokee looked to him for their jobs.

Greg was three or four years younger than Wyatt. He was about six feet tall, slim, with blond hair and a perpetually arrogant expression stamped on his handsome face.

Billy nudged Wyatt with his elbow and nodded in Greg’s direction. “Looks like the rich boy’s come slumming.”

“I’d like to stick my fist in that little prick’s uppity face,” Jimmy barked.

Wyatt put his hand on Jimmy’s arm as he started to stand. “Let it go, man. No need to look for trouble.”

Unfortunately, trouble did not have to be looked for. Greg strutted over to the table where Wyatt sat. Behind him were his friends, what the Indians called “the country club cubs”.

“Don’t I know you?” Greg looked down at Wyatt.

Wyatt shrugged and took a drink of his beer. “Do you?”

Greg smirked and looked back at his friends for a moment. “Aren’t you Wyatt Wolfe, old man Wolfe’s boy?”

Jimmy and Billy both bristled at the way Greg said “boy” but Wyatt just looked up at Greg without expression. “That’s right.”

“Well, well,” Greg sneered. “I hear you’re in the Navy—SEALs or something. I guess you think you’re some kind of badass, huh, Redskin?”

“Nope.” Wyatt took another drink of his beer and looked across the room.

“That’s not what I hear. The way I hear it you think you’re better than everyone else.”

Wyatt continued to stare across the room without speaking. Greg leaned over in his face and jeered. “What’s the matter, Indian? Chicken? Look at me when I talk to you, boy!”

Wyatt turned his head and pinned Greg with a cold stare. Greg immediately backed up and Wyatt stood. He towered a good four inches over the smaller man. “What is it you have to say?” he asked coldly.

Greg backed up another step. “I don’t have shit to say to you, trash. Stay outta my face and outta my town or you’re gonna wish you had.”

Wyatt’s expression didn’t change. He simply looked at Greg for a moment then walked over to the bar, got a bottle and left. Anger was seething inside him. He knew that the Holling family had been tormenting the people in the county, just as he knew they had chosen the Indians as their special targets. His father had talked of little else the past week since he had come home. He said it was like history repeating itself all over again.

Wyatt told his father that the people should seek legal recourse to stop the harassment, that was what the law was for. Inside he churned with suppressed anger. He hated people like the Hollings and the way they treated others. They were another example of the way the rich white man stepped all over everyone else. But he had sworn that aside from his duties to the Navy he was not going to fight anymore and he meant to keep that vow, even if it meant he had to feel like something was eating him up from inside.

Wyatt got up and poured a cup of black coffee. He didn’t remember much that happened after he left the bar except for cracking open the bottle and tilting it up to his mouth. After that there was a blank.

He took his coffee upstairs, put on an old sweat suit and laced up his running shoes. He left the coffee unfinished on the dresser when he went outside. The air was cold and crisp. Icicles sparkled like diamonds and the snow looked soft and pristine.

After a long deep breath, he started running. He headed north, along the bank of the Tuckasegee River toward Fontana Lake. His thoughts turned to the situation between the Holling family and the Indians. It was not something new. The trouble had started a long time ago, even before he was born.

His eyebrows drew together in a tight frown. Lately he had been drawn to old memories. The memories were not complete, but hazy and fragmented. He could not even consciously call them to mind, but when they did come they filled him with a rage and fear he didn’t understand. He started up a steep hill and suddenly his mind carried him back, back to the day his mother died.

A heavy
-
set man was laughing as others held Sarah down and ripped her clothes off
.
Another man watched from the shadow of a thick cedar
.
Wyatt screamed and struggled against the man who held him immobile
.

“
Get your hands off her
!
Leave her alone
!”

The man holding him laughed
.
“
What
’
s the matter
,
boy
?
Ain
’
t never seen a real man do it
?”

Wyatt fought harder to free himself but the man hit him in the side of the head and lights danced in front of his eyes
.
Sarah was screaming for them to let Wyatt go
,
but the men only laughed at her pleas
.

The heavy
-
set man dropped his pants and knelt down between Sarah
’
s legs
.
Chills ran down Wyatt
’
s spine at the scream that erupted from his mother
.
In horror he watched as the men took turns brutalizing her
.

As the last man stood and zipped his pants
,
Wyatt was released
.
He ran to his mother
’
s side
.
Her face was swollen and covered with blood
.
Blood ran from her nose and eyes and even dripped from one ear
.
Her body was battered
,
crossed with bloody trails.
.
He could not believe this was his mother
.

He tried to lift her but she was too heavy
.
“
Wake up
,”
he pleaded
,
gently shaking her
.
“
Mom
,
wake up
.
We have to get out of here
.”

But Sarah would never wake up
.
There was no life left in her body
.
He screamed and looked around for help
.
The men watched him with jeers and laughs
.
No one offered to help
.
He turned his attention back to his mother
,
shaking her and pleading with her to wake up
.
When he realized she was dead he felt like a spear had been shoved through his chest
.
He screamed in grief and pain
,
throwing himself across her cold body
,
and crying
.

The men left him
,
still laughing as they started the walk back
.
Wyatt cried until there were no more tears then lay still
,
staring blankly at the valley below
.
“
Please help me
,”
he whispered
.
“
Someone
,
please help me
.
They killed my mom
.”

A sound like the whispering of the wind reached his ears
.
He thought he heard words in the wind
.
He sat up and looked around
.
His eyes widened as a mist swirled up from the ground
.
He bolted to his feet and backed away in fear as the mist moved toward him
.
He could not move fast enough
.
The mist enveloped him
.

“
Will you take the help that is offered
?”
The words rang in his mind
.

“
Yes
,”
he answered fearfully
.

“
Then be One
,”
the whisper rose like a roll of thunder
.
“
Merge and become the champion of the People
.”

“
How
?”
Wyatt looked around
,
trying to see through the white mist that surrounded him
.

“
Believe it to be so
.”

Wyatt closed his eyes tightly
.
“
I believe
,”
he whispered fervently
.
“
I believe
,
I believe
,
I
—”

A disorienting sensation claimed him and he staggered blindly
,
unable to see or hear anything except the storm that raged in his mind
.
Abruptly an expanding wave washed through him
,
swelling until he was filled to overflowing with the sensation
.
He felt like a giant
.
Nothing could hurt him
.

Wyatt stopped at the crest of the hill and looked down at the waters of the lake. The memory faded from his mind to be replaced with a black void. He shook his head and tried to recall it. At last he gave up. It was always the same. He would think he could hold on to the memory but it would vanish like mist in sunlight and he would not be able to remember anything except waking up lying beside his mother, covered in blood and holding a hunting knife. He knew there were missing pieces but he could not find a way to consciously bring them to mind.