Sacred Ground (25 page)

"He panicked and told Mike Ferrell your whole plan. It's over. You'd be smart to let
Willow
leave with me. Since everyone thinks you're dead, why don't you leave and never come back," Brett suggested, stepping closer to
Willow
.

"They won't be able to prove I'm involved with any of this. Without proof, you're shit outta luck," Gordon said, his laugh rising slightly. “I'm sticking to my plan.”

"You're a ruthless, heartless man, Gordon Jenkins. Listen. Do you hear the drums? Do you hear the chanting? Do you hear the rattles? Listen, Gordon, the old ones have come to question you."

"Bullshit! I don't believe in all this mumbo-jumbo.” Gordon looked around, his body movements revealing his discomfort and fear. “I don't hear a damn thing."

"The old ones say you've been robbing artifacts from the sacred grounds. Is that true?"

"You're making it up, right?" Gordon stepped back.

"But you have. Even dead men need money to live, right? Did you think you'd get away with it? The sacred grounds are protected by the ancestors," Brett explained, moving forward.

"You don't scare me!"

"I'm not trying to. Listen to the drums. They're angry. Listen to the rattles. They have unrest about them. Listen carefully to the old ones. They're here to pass judgment on you." Brett adjusted his bow higher toward Gordon.

"You don't scare me," Gordon repeated, his tone weaker than before.

"I'm not trying to. I know you hear it. I know you're guilty, and so do you. You need to be punished for the way you've treated Willow Howling Moon. Do you think they approve how you've treated their daughter? You promised to take care of her and protect her from harm. You turned against her and her people. They want revenge. No, I take that back. They want justice." Brett lowered the bow, astonished by the growing fever of the old ones' dancing. Their disgust, anger, and purpose became transparent.

In what seemed like a dark mist, a skeletal figure emerged. The transparent warrior gripped Gordon's hand and it bled, leaving a puddle of blood in the soft dirt. Quickly a second and third warrior stepped from the ominous darkness. The warriors surrounded Gordon and prodded him along until they pulled him into the swirling dark mist with them.

Gordon's blood-curdling screams drowned out the rhythmic beating drums. The old ones took the offender into a twisting, fierce funnel, which spun into nothingness.

Brett sat. Droplets of perspiration rolled from his forehead, separating at the bridge of his nose, and then finally making paths down both sides of his cheeks. Wiping at the moisture with his palms, Brett realized he still remained hidden in
Willow
's barn. He thumped his mud-cast hard with his right knuckle and winced. It certainly hadn't healed.

The buffalo stone necklace from his dream now hung from his neck in the real world. If he told
Willow
, would she believe him? Brett moved his palm over the stone and felt peace and a sense of belonging.

The small, stifling enclosure imprisoned him. Low casting sunbeams filtering through the slits in the barn walls told him it soon would be night. He wondered what
Willow
had accomplished all day. He desperately wanted to be there if she needed him. He felt worthless.

* * *

Mike pulled his sheriff's rig to a stop.
Willow
didn't miss his curious and careful glances around. He smiled and she returned the gesture. She only hoped Mike was as good a friend as Brett thought.

She hadn't wanted to tell him that she didn't care that much for Mike, who seemed to be a loner, almost to a point of annoyance. He might be good at his job, but not especially good with people.

"Willow Jenkins," Mike called out, nodding a hello.

"Willow Howling Moon," she corrected.

"My apologies.
Can't blame you much."

"That's supposed to mean what?" she asked, convinced she'd never be able to like this coy man.

"Nothing exactly.
Well, I heard some stuff. People do talk, whether we want them to or not. I just meant I don't blame you for dropping the last name. He wasn't exactly good to you or Lance. It's none of my business. That's not why I'm here, is it?"

"Come on in for coffee and we'll talk." She needed to check the house before telling Mike anything about Brett. Without waiting for Mike to answer, she led the way back inside and busied herself with making a pot of coffee.

"You care to tell me the last time you saw Brett?" Mike asked in a deep, sheriff-like tone.

Willow
pressed her index finger to her lips and motioned for him to keep talking with her fingers, and then she looked around for lingering listeners. Straining to hear anything but the deep voice of Mike coming from the kitchen, she found the back door unlocked, with a slightly disarrayed rug in front of it. Staring down at a dark puddle, she bent to look closer . . .
blood
, she thought. It had to be from Gordon's hand. She returned to the kitchen, convinced that Gordon had left the house.

"He's gone for now." she said, her tone nearly a whisper.

"Who are you talking about?"

"Before I answer you, tell me one thing. How good a friend are you to Brett?"

His expression turned serious. "I would take a bullet for him, if it came down to it. He's maybe the only real friend I have. I don't get too personal with most folks, gets in the way of doing my job. I need to be impartial. Keeping a distance helps me accomplish that."

"I see your point. If I were to tell you someone tried killing Brett by dropping him over Rattlesnake Cliff, would you believe me?"

"What? Good God, so it's come to this, has it? I should have known. I knew that slime ball Wyatt was up to something. I tried catching him sabotaging Brett's place several times, but he's always slipped away. Damn. You did say,
tried to kill Brett
, right?"

She read the genuine concern in Mike's expressive face. "Brett's alive and well actually. I won't begin to explain it. I think I'll leave that one up to him. He asked me to call you. Said to tell you he needed your help."

"I'll do whatever he asks.” Mike got to his feet. “Can I see him?"

"Sit down and have a cup of coffee." She poured two cups, grabbed the cookie canister, and sat across from Mike. "There's more."

"More?"

"Wyatt is a big part of this whole scheme. But it's much bigger than any of us suspected. Gordon is alive," she blurted out, nearly choking on the words.

"Gordon Jenkins?” He jerked to his feet. "Not possible!
Willow
, you can't expect me to believe you." He pulled his fingers through his thick brown hair.
"Gordon alive?
I buried that bas . . . I buried him. Most God-awful, gruesome task I've ever had to do. I've had nightmares about it near every night these past months. I'm sorry,
Willow
, it just isn't possible." He sank back into his chair and took a long sip of hot coffee.

"If Brett told you Gordon's alive, would you believe it then?"

"I expect it would take Brett telling me. No offense."

"None taken.
Couldn't believe it myself.
I still don't want to believe it. I wish he were dead," she whispered.

"Can't blame you.
Don't especially like the man myself. I nearly had him . . . never mind. Where is Gordon?"

"I don't know. He was here and I stabbed him in the hand with a knife. I can't begin to tell you how timely your appearance was when you drove up just now. He couldn't very well show himself to you yet.”
Willow
paused to offer Mike a chocolate chip cookie and set the jar back on the table. “He has a plan, and I've ruined it. You can be sure he'll come up with a new one. He'll be most convincing, but first he must eliminate a few people who can prove otherwise, like Brett and me."

"Where's Brett?"

"Come with me."

Chapter Fifteen

Someone was moving the entrance bales, interrupting the silence. Brett tensed. Had Gordon or Wyatt found his hiding place? He glanced around for a weapon and slowly moved his palm over a smooth, carved, wooden bow. He stared at it in disbelief.

"Go on inside, I'll keep guard,"
Willow
said.

Brett wished she had come inside. He longed to see her beauty. His heart quickened just by hearing her voice.

"Brett?" Mike asked. "What the hell happened to your leg?"

"A long story.
I knew I could count on you to come. This is the craziest situation I've ever found myself in. I'm hallucinating and dreaming like a drunkard."

"What happened?"

Brett motioned for his friend to sit. "
Willow
explained everything, didn't she?" he asked.

"She said Gordon is alive.
Told her I'd have to hear you say that before I could consider believing it."

"Well, it's true. I didn't just get a passing glimpse of him, Mike. He talked to me.
Bragged about coming back from the dead.
Said he knew about
Willow
and me. Damn his soul!"

"You and
Willow
?
I find that about as hard to believe as Gordon being alive."

Brett laughed. He couldn't help himself. "I know what you mean. We can't believe it either. A lot of good it does us. That sorry excuse of a man is alive." He clenched his jaw.

"Whose body parts did I gather? The man had Gordon's wallet, scorpion medallion and chain.
A set-up?"

Brett nodded. "But the way Jenkins tells it, you hit the body with your car first. They led you to believe it was Gordon, to keep you quiet. It would have been manslaughter.
Any truth to that?"

"Some. I've only told my immediate supervisor this, but it seems time to tell it now. Wyatt pushed that body in front of my car, no doubt about it. I had a hard time believing the corpse was Gordon, too. I also knew my car couldn't have smashed-in that guys face the way it was. I kept quiet, letting Wyatt believe I felt responsible, hoping he'd get careless and slip, or that he’d take me into his confidence. I believed it was only a matter of time before I'd figured it out and exposed the truth. It's been six months and I'm starting to believe the body must have been Gordon's. Your mishaps at the ranch have kept me going. I always seem to be three steps behind Wyatt."

"I knew you wouldn't cover up the truth," Brett said, relieved.

"It's murder, plain and simple. Three bullets were found in that mess. Wyatt shot the dead body only twice in my presence. If Gordon's alive, you can bet he inflicted the first shot that killed that man. They made sure his face was unrecognizable before they pushed the body in front of my car. But I'll never be able to prove it, unless one of them confesses. Gordon and Wyatt have managed to stay ahead of me, so far."

"Before seeing Gordon, I believed Wyatt had been either the murderer or accomplice," Brett said. “But it didn't make sense. I thought about motive and could only come up with
Willow
. Now I realize they'd implicated her, wanting me to think she pulled off the mishaps at the ranch. Wyatt is―"

"The accomplice," Mike interrupted, rubbing his chin. "I have no proof. I never believed he could have pulled off any murder. Never thought he had the balls for it. Yet, he was my only suspect. From the beginning I knew Wyatt was involved, but not the brains. Gordon Jenkins made a mistake by showing up. Before, I couldn't prove a thing. Now I have strong suspicions. He not only could have accomplished your run of bad luck, but I believe he was, oops, I mean is capable of murder."

"He tried killing me.
Came damn close to accomplishing it too."
Brett adjusted his weight, moving his cast with his hands.

"
Willow
said Gordon tossed you over Rattlesnake Cliff. How on earth did you climb up out of there?"