“Let’s dismount and lead her for a while so she can catch her breath,” Jess said, pulling her to a stop.
“I’d guess the both of us are pretty heavy.”
Jess agreed and nodded in the dark and felt Villatoro slide clumsily off Chile’s back. When he was clear, Jess swung out of the saddle and shoved his hand between the horse’s flank and the saddle blanket, where it was hot and moist with sweat.
“Soon as she cools down, we can ride her in,” Jess said in a low whisper, leading her by the reins. Villatoro walked alongside with a hand on the saddle because Chile and Jess knew where they were headed, and he didn’t.
Above them, in the trees, was a sweep of light.
“What was that?” Villatoro asked.
Jess put a gloved finger against his lips and shushed him. “Headlights,” Jess whispered.
They stopped and listened. Far above them and to the east, Jess could hear a motor and the crunching of gravel under tires. There was the squeak of brakes being applied, a surge of the engine, then another squeak before the motor was killed.
“They blocked the gate,” Jess said.
In a swath of moonlight, he could see Villatoro bury his face in his hands in despair.
Sunday, 11:59 P.M.
VILLATORO AND HEARNE sat at the kitchen table drinking coffee. The shotgun was on the table as well, along with a box of shells. In hushed tones, Villatoro was telling Hearne about the encounter in the trees at Swann’s place, and Hearne kept shooting glances at Jess while he did it. Jess sipped his coffee with his back to the kitchen counter and half listened.
Annie and William were asleep on the couch in the living room under the same blanket. Monica rifled through Jess’s refrigerator and cupboards looking for ingredients so she could make lasagna, but she couldn’t find noodles or cheese and gave up. She said she wanted to cook something because she was too nervous to sleep.
“So it’s all coming together,” Hearne said, sitting back as if he were in a loan officers’ meeting. “They robbed Santa Anita, all five of them, and moved up here. Then Rodale screwed up, and they executed him for it, but Annie and William happened to be witnesses. That set everything in motion.”
Monica had settled on baking a cake, and Jess watched her as she looked again and again at the directions on the back of the cake mix box. He could tell she was distracted, that she was doing something just to be doing it. Who would want to eat cake?
Villatoro turned to Jess. “What are we going to do? Those men are killers.”
Hearne said, “The sheriff told me he called the FBI. They’ll be here tomorrow morning. Like Jess said, all we can do is wait it out until we can tell our story. But the ex-cops have probably figured out where you are and who is here,” he said, gesturing with his head toward the sleeping children. “They’ll want to silence them-and us-before we talk.”
Villatoro looked at his wristwatch. “I wish there was someone we could call.” Celeste should be home and could get the ball rolling urging local law enforcement to contact the FBI or Idaho authorities. Then he thought of Donna, waking her up, telling her what was going on. She would go hysterical. Plus, there was nothing she could do to help. But it was important, he thought, to tell her he loved her. That he always had.
Jess said, “I wish I knew the names of those ex-cops, the ones who got turned away when they tried to volunteer. I would guess they’d want to help us out. There are plenty of good ones up here, I think. They’d be pretty pissed off if they knew what these guys were doing.”
While they talked, Jess noticed that Monica kept looking at him as well as Hearne, as if measuring something besides cake mix.
“Do you have an idea?” Jess asked her.
She shook her head. “Not about that.” Then she looked hard at him. “Jess, I’d like to talk with you.”
Jess felt uncomfortable that she was calling him away from Villatoro and Hearne.
Hearne felt it, too, and said, “Excuse me, I’m going to call my wife. I want her to know I’m safe.”
“That’s a good idea,” Villatoro said, rising from the table. “You call, then I’ll call Celeste and then my wife.” He said it with a tone that barely disguised what he meant, which was, in case we never see them again.
“We can step outside,” Jess said to Monica.
As she started for the mudroom and the door, Hearne turned around with the receiver in his hand. “There’s no dial tone.”
Jess froze. He knew what that meant.
Villatoro said, “They’ve cut the line.”
Jess said to Hearne, “Try your cell phone.”
“It’s gone,” Hearne said, gesturing with empty hands. “I lost it at Swann’s.”
“What about you?” Jess asked Villatoro.
He shrugged. “Mine never worked up here in the first place. Wrong company.”
“So we’re blocked in, and we can’t communicate,” Jess said flatly. “I’ve had better days.”
In midsentence, the lights went out. From the living room, Jess heard Annie scream.
DAY FOUR. Monday
Monday, 1:24 A.M.
CARRYING TWO HISSING Coleman lanterns, Jess entered the house from the barn. He put one lantern on the table and held the other up at shoulder height, so he could see the faces of everyone shining back at him. Monica held both William and Annie in front of her. Hearne sat at the table. Villatoro was behind him, holding the shotgun.
To Hearne, Jess said, “Can you still ride?”
“I haven’t forgotten how.”
Jess nodded outside. “Then take Chile into town. She’s still saddled, and that way you can avoid the road. You might be able to get to Sheriff Carey before daylight. Maybe you can convince him to get his men together and get out here.”
Hearne nodded, went to the gun cabinet, and pulled out another shotgun. “Should I take this?”
“Yup.”
Jess turned to Villatoro and the Taylors. “I’m not running. This is my place. I’ll know if they try to come because there’s only one way in with a vehicle.”
No one said a word. They were waiting for more from him, he realized.
“I know every inch of this ranch, and they don’t,” Jess said. “That’s our only advantage. We’re going to hold our ground. Don’t worry, I’ve been preparing for it all of my life.”
“But you’re old, Jess.” It was Annie, who sounded concerned. He didn’t even know she was there.
“Annie!” Monica said.
“Hell, let her be.” Jess laughed. “She may be right.”
AS JESS pulled Chile’s flank strap tight and adjusted the stirrups for the shorter-legged Hearne, the banker said, “Jess, let’s make a pact.”
Jess finished, turned.
Hearne said, “If I don’t make it, promise me you’ll take care of Annie and see her through. William and Monica, too.”
Jess tried to read Hearne’s face, but couldn’t get past the resolve in it.
“I’ll do the same if something happens here to you,” Hearne said.
“You trying to tell me something?” Jess asked.
Hearne simply looked at him, said, “I mean it, Jess.”
“Then okay,” Jess said after a beat. The pact seemed noble and worthwhile, he thought. He held out his hand, and Hearne shook it.
“Remember,” Jess said, “trust your horse to find the way in the dark.”
OUTSIDE, JESS stood with Villatoro on the front porch and watched Jim Hearne wheel on Chile and ride off into the dark. He could hear hoofbeats drum and recede into the meadow.
Jess handed the weapon he had taken from Swann to Villatoro. “You probably know more about handguns than I do.”
“I never shot anyone,” Villatoro said.
“You mean you can’t, or you never have?”