TREASURE KILLS (Legends of Tsalagee Book 1) (30 page)

“Let’s just drop it.” Galynn walked out the back door and sat on the porch steps..

Artie sat open-mouthed, staring at her back through the screen door. He shook his head and returned to his lo mein. Still alone in the kitchen, he took his plate to the sink, rinsing it, and headed for the living room to watch some TV.

Near eleven Galynn still hadn’t re-appeared, so Artie began to replay the whole dinner conversation in his head. Apparently, her anger had something to do with what he’d said about Punch. It was one of those puzzles about what men say to women to make them mad, so he thought maybe he’d better go apologize.

He found her sitting on the steps of the back porch, her arms crossing her knees. She looked up at the full moon high in the sky. Artie sat down beside her and looked up at the moon, too.

“Wow. Some moon tonight,” he said.

Galynn nodded.

“Listen,” Artie said. “I’m sorry I said those things about your dad. I just thought—”

“It’s okay,” Galynn said. “I don’t know why I got so emotional about it. Everything you said is true. He is an idiot.”

“Well, okay,” Artie said. He felt visibly relieved. Sometimes, when you wandered into a woman’s emotional storm, it wasn’t always clear how to find your way out again. Then, sometimes you got lucky.

Galynn looked over at Sunny’s house half a mile away. The bright moonlight clearly outlined it, as well as all the out buildings there. No lights shone from any of the windows.

“Sure is a beautiful and peaceful night,.” Artie said, still hopeful he’d made it back from hostile territory.

Both sat in silence taking in the quiet and sheen of the late fall night, a perfect night. The air was cool, but not cold, without a breath of wind. Nothing could be heard in the pervasive stillness, except for the distant rumble of two motorcycle engines. But that, too, ceased after a bit.

Chapter 27

All Hell Breaks Loose

Red Randy and Threebuck ran the bikes slow to keep the noise of the big engines as quiet as possible. About a mile from the Griggs woman’s house, they cut the engines and coasted downhill the last quarter mile before stopping. A short dirt road—really only two ruts with grass down the center—ran over a concrete drainage pipe placed in the bar ditch, and stopped at a pasture gate. Threebuck opened the gate, and the two men pushed their bikes well into the pasture to hide them from view. The full moon’s bright light didn’t allow much hiding, but tall grass in the pasture broke up the bikes’ hulking outlines.

Another farmhouse and its buildings stood between the two men and the Griggs woman’s place, but Randy wanted to move to it on foot, knowing the sound of their bikes would be a dead give away. The guy Oxley had told them Sunny would be gone, but just in case she’d decided not to leave, he didn’t want to alert her. Better safe than sorry. If she was gone, as Oxley said she’d be, they would take care of her later; if not, he still wanted the element of surprise. Randy decided they’d walk the last three-quarters of a mile, taking a track well behind the intermediate farmhouse. He thought they would sneak in, quietly go about the business of finding their prize, then sneak out. If they did it right, nobody would realize they’d even been there.

After they’d walked about two hundred yards through the field, Threebuck asked his companion, “Did you bring the flashlight?”

Randy held his hand up. “Listen,” he said in a whisper. He squatted; Threebuck followed his lead. “What is it?” he asked Randy in his own whisper while looking about furtively.

“Thought I heard someone talking,” Randy answered softly. He stood up a little into a crouch, looking over the top of the tall grass. “I think I see some people sitting on the back porch of that house. Let’s go this way,” he said, indicating a route more toward the road and the front of the house.

Twelve minutes later they loped up to the rail fence separating the pasture from the yard and the gravel drive that ran along the side of Sunny’s house. Randy slid between the rails of the fence and stood surveying their location. Threebuck followed.

Randy pointed toward the large building fifty yards behind the house. “That’s the barn. Let’s go,” he said. They skulked toward the building, seeking shadows as they advanced. At one point Threebuck stopped short and looked about fearfully.

“What are you doing?” Randy asked. He’d reached the shaded side of a tractor parked to one side of the barn yard, and squatted looking back at Threebuck who stood frozen in the direct moonlight.

“Did you hear something?” Threebuck asked in a loud whisper.

“Hear what?” Randy asked back with irritation.

“Sounded like a bear or something,” Threebuck said.

“You’re plum spooked. There ain’t no bears out here. Now get over here!”

When they reached the barn door, itself standing in deep shadow, Randy felt along its surface, studying the latching mechanism with his hands. He lifted a piece of the latch, and slid a long iron bar back along its guide. He stopped at one point when metal screeched against dry wood. He looked back toward the house and around; waiting, to see if the sound awakened anyone. After only a few chickens inside the barn clucked inquiringly, Randy continued sliding the iron bar further back. One of the large double doors swung outward a foot or two, creaking softly. The two men looked about again, then slipped inside the barn.

Shafts of moonlight filtered in through the many cracks on the moonlit sides of the barn, speckling the contents and the dirt floor inside. An even fainter light filtered in through the open loft door above them. But most of the interior lay in inky shadow.

“Give me the flashlight,” Randy whispered to Threebuck.

There was a palpable pause. Randy impatiently snapped his fingers and said again in a little louder voice, “C’mon. Gimme the flashlight.”

“I thought you had it,” Threebuck said.

Randy, in his loud whisper, swore vigorously at Threebuck. When he turned back to feel his way forward, he kicked a galvanized bucket and sent it careening noisily into a stall post.

* * *

At eight p.m. Hayward and Soc played their fifth hand of gin rummy, and despite the steady in-flow of coffee, both found themselves getting sleepy.

“Gin,” Soc said again. He’d already won the previous four hands.

“Are you kidding me?” Hayward asked, but the question was rhetorical. He threw his cards onto the tabletop in disgust, and stretched both his arms above his head. “Think I’ll take a little nap,” he said. “I figure them boys won’t show up until ten or so.”

Soc examined Hayward’s cards and wrote the tally on the score sheet. After adding things up, he said, “You owe me ten bucks.”

“Did you deduct for that Salisbury steak dinner?” Hayward asked. “Coffee’s free,” he added. He’d already moved toward the back of the RV to stretch out on the bed there.

“Eight bucks, then,” Soc said. “Although, I ain’t sure about the cost of the Rolaids I had to chew to offset the dinner. Guess I’ll let that go.”

“I’m just going to catch a few winks so I’ll be alert when all the action starts,” Hayward said. “You can use that sofa bed, if you want. We better douse the lights.”

In his dream, Soc looked for a bathroom inside a large building. It appeared to be a museum of some sort. He was standing in front of an exhibit of stuffed raccoons. He’d searched several corridors, but none of the doors indicated a men’s room. And he really had to go bad. At one point he desperately opened a door only to find a janitor’s closet. As he stood there looking at the deep sink, a mop bucket fell from a shelf and clanked along the floor.

When he awoke, he threw back the leather and fleece blanket, and headed toward the soft light illuminating the small bathroom of the RV. The red numerals of the digital clock on the microwave, read 12:17. Did he hear people talking outside?

“Hey, Hayward, wake up,” he said in a whisper as he shook the man gently.

“Oh, crap,” Hayward said as he awakened with a start. “What time is it?”

“Shh,” Soc said. He held one of the blinds slates up at the small window looking out. “I think our varmints are here.”

Hayward got up from the bed, and looked out the window, too.

“Something ain’t right,” Soc said. “We better arm ourselves and get out there to see what’s going on.” He headed to the front of the RV, put on his down vest, and picked up his shotgun leaning against the driver’s chair. He pumped the shotgun once to insert a shell into the firing chamber, clicked on the safety, and headed for the door. He stopped there to look back for his friend.

“You coming, or not?” he asked.

“Yeah. Hold on a sec. I gotta pee first,” Hayward said.

Something thumped on the roof of the RV. “What the hell was that?” Hayward said.

“Sounded like a baseball hit the roof... or a rock.”

The two men waited to see if another something would strike the RV. But by then, with Soc holding the door open, they could hear the voices plainly. One was a man’s voice, a deep sinister base; the other was a woman’s. It sounded like Sunny.

* * *

Normally, Sunny slept soundly, but this night restlessness gripped her, and sleep came fitfully. An afternoon of organic grocery shopping had worn her out, bring about an early bedtime, around ten. Something startled her awake at eleven-thirty, and she lay listening for several minutes. Just starting to doze again, another sound popped her eyes wide, and got her out of bed to investigate. The noise sounded like it could’ve come from the barn. She crept about the house on tiptoes peeking out several windows. Looking toward the barn and cellar, all seemed quiet. She squinted to see through the dark shadows covering the barn’s front. Was one of the barn doors open a little?

Perhaps Hayward and Soc had captured a raccoon, she thought. And they were in the barn. Still, that didn’t seem right. She didn’t think it likely the two elderly men would check the live traps until morning.

Sunny shrugged and turned to go back to bed. Pulling the covers over her, she heard a clanging noise. Distance muffled the sound, but it was loud enough to not be mistaken, and it came from the area of the barn.

“That was no raccoon,” Sunny said to herself. Back out of bed, she slipped on her heavy fleece robe, went to her closet, fumbled around the shelf above her head, and pulled out the gun belt and holster. She flung the belt around her waist, buckled it, and removed the pistol from the holster, checking the load, spinning the cylinder. Shooting somebody, anybody, wasn’t part of her plan, but if it was that damn Gale playing one of his stupid Hill Man games, he’d learn a lesson he wouldn’t soon forget. She headed for the back door.

* * *

The creature moved laterally at the edge of the trees. The bright moonlight dappled his dark brown all-covering hair with spots of silver as he moved, draping him in a natural camouflage. Fearful wouldn’t describe his frame of mind, but he did remain cautious. He would not move out into the open field beneath the bright exposing light of the full moon until he fully understood the risks.

The dwelling, this night, looked pretty much as it always had except for the addition of the small structure in the field behind the large structure. Moving along the line of the trees, getting as near to the structure as he could while still hidden within the tree cover, he looked closely and sniffed the air periodically trying to sense any danger.

He picked up a rock about the size of a softball. Throwing rocks at these things, or any structure, usually seemed a good way to determine if any of the Others remained inside. But before he could heave the rock, he noticed two figures near the barn scurrying toward it; stopping in the shadows of a tree, then scurrying forward again. He thrust his head forward, looking closer and sniffing. His keen eyesight and night vision showed him two male Others, one much larger than the other. At first, he couldn’t understand what they were doing. Then it occurred on him. They, also, had come to take The Food.

“Mmrrrooph!” he exclaimed, standing to his full height. His eyes narrowed and his lips curled as a low, fierce growl issued from deep in his throat. He paced back and forth in the shadow of the trees. Presently, he heard a sound coming from the barn. Maybe these two Others only wanted to steal eggs from the fat birds. Maybe they had no interest in The Food at all, or didn’t know its location. He would sit and watch a while longer. He had a clear view of the small cave where The Food awaited him. If it appeared that these two Others had come for his treasure, he would take immediate action. But for now he would wait and observe.

* * *

In her green plaid pajamas over which she wore her powder blue fleece robe with her six-shooter belted around her waist, Sunny headed out to the barn. Her bunny-headed pink house slippers flapped as she walked across the yard. She left the pistol holstered, but carried a flashlight in her right hand. The moonlight shone so bright there was no need to turn it on. She could see almost every detail of everything, except for those things that lay in shadow. Dark shadow concealed the cellar door; so Sunny couldn’t really tell if it stood open or not. She turned on the flashlight, but the beam didn’t quite reach the cellar door.

She thought,
If Gale has come to play his tricks, no doubt he’ll go for the kimchi first.
Sunny moved toward the cellar, and the light from her flashlight revealed that the door still remained closed. Wouldn’t hurt to open it, and look inside just to make sure the
kimchi
was still there. She threw back the door and took the two steps down into the cellar. Pointing the light into the back right corner, she saw the earthen jar stood intact, and apparently undisturbed.

A rattling noise came from the barn like something had fallen, and then a scraping noise as if something had been dragged across a hard surface. Sunny switched off the flashlight and turned to listen. Men could be heard talking in a low voice.
There was most certainly someone in the barn
, she thought.
It had to be Hayward and Soc... or Gale and White.
She headed that way.