The whine of tire rubber on road filled Walt’s ears.
“I’m just saying,” Jerry continued, “that that’s the way it’s going to be. I need to hear you say it too, Brandon, or you can stay behind when we switch to the horses. I’ve got no problem with your doing that. It’s either all in or not in at all. An operation like this, it’s just the way it’s got to be.”
“We get it,” Walt said.
“I gotta hear him say it.”
“I’m in,” Brandon said.
“We might face charges,” Jerry said, “Walt and I… That boy’s our blood. It’s not fair to ask that of you, but I’ve got to lay it out the way I see it.”
“I’m in,” Brandon repeated. “And, just for the record, they fired first.”
Jerry turned to face Brandon for the first time.
He was grinning.
68
Cantell futilely sprayed the garden hose on the burning pile of wood while McGuiness shoveled dirt on it. Salvo was trying to flatten the pile and spread out the logs with a rake. For all their efforts, the fire continued raging, throwing sparks and smoke high in the sky. Leaning against the rocks behind them were a loaded rifle and a loaded twelve-gauge over-under shotgun. Cantell had no desire to use the guns but understood the authority they represented.
Other thoughts competed in his head. The fire had been deliberately set as a signal. The girl’s doing. She had a brain and a lot of nerve-information useful to him, but unwelcome.
“Matt, take over here!”
Cantell passed the useless hose to Salvo and took off for the front of the lodge. Throwing the door open and looking directly toward the study, he could see that its door remained screwed shut.
He hurried outside behind the lodge and double-checked the window to the study. Plywood was screwed down tight.
Back inside, he stood in the middle of the living room listening to the boy banging around in the closet like he’d been doing for the past ten minutes. It was driving Cantell nuts, but he had no way to quiet the kid, to warn him.
Cantell didn’t see the girl, but she could be hiding anywhere.
He pushed the front door shut.
“First and last chance, Ms. Sumner,” he called out.
The kid’s banging stopped.
“If you give yourself up,” Cantell said, “we’ll treat you okay. If not, you’ll be dealt with… well… it won’t be pretty. Your call… I need your answer right now!”
He waited.
It was only when his eyes alighted on the destroyed radio that his head cleared. The radio reminded him of the jet.
The girl has a key.
Preoccupied with trying to copilot McGuiness’s emergency landing, he hadn’t considered how his stowaway had gotten on the plane. But now…
He’d had to deal with Sam Elliott and the boy, ad-libbing as he went. But now…
He ran to the fire, shouting as he went. Salvo and McGuiness had gotten some control over it.
“The girl has a key,” he announced. “Watch the inside of the house!” he called to Salvo. “You’re with me,” he ordered McGuiness.
69
Kevin had heard someone shout “Fire!” and then people stampeding out of the lodge. This was followed by silence.
He sniffed the air, didn’t smell anything. But he wasn’t about to stick around to find out if the place was going up in flames. He pulled the boards free from the ceiling as fast as he could. Two split and broke, three others came out cleanly. He now had a hole big enough for his head.
He shone the flashlight into dead space between the ceiling and the roof. Pulling free several more boards, he pushed the flashlight through. He climbed up into the attic.
Again, he smelled for smoke. He got dust and an overwhelming putrid odor.
He now shone the light in both directions. He could see the full length of the building.
The cowboy was tied up in the study below. He was a big guy, an adult. He knew the ranch. He’d be a good ally. Kevin needed him as an ally.
The attic floor was covered with a mix of sand and what looked like shredded newspaper, a decades-old attempt at insulation. It took Kevin a few tries to get the knack of placing his knees successfully on the crossbeams. Protruding from the sand-newspaper insulation was the occasional electrical wire. Following one, he dug down until he reached a junction box.
If he could get to the study and untie the cowboy, it would be two against three-decent odds. Once he got Summer out of the garage, it would be three against three-even better odds. He kicked the study ceiling hard but the boards held.
He thought he heard a man’s voice so he stopped and listened. It was coming from the general direction of the living room.
A few agonizing moments passed. Had they found the closet empty? The sound of someone leaving the lodge allowed him to breathe again. He waited. There was no more shouting.
Kevin drove his heel down on the junction box and it gave way, opening a small gap between it and the ceiling boards. He put his eye to the hole and could see the cowboy lying on the floor on his side. He was gagged. His hands were tied behind his back, his ankles tied with what looked like electrical cord with the leg of the desk between them. His blue eyes were staring back at Kevin.
Kevin knew he wasn’t getting through the ceiling without a chainsaw. The thought he might have to go it alone overwhelmed him. He wondered if the hijackers had found Summer or had the fire been Summer’s doing? That thought charged him with purpose.
Leaving the cowboy wasn’t right. If the lodge was on fire, he had no choice. And he needed him.
He aimed the flashlight around the attic, hoping to see another way down. Dust filled the beam. He lit on a paper wasp nest in the far corner, some sagging spiderwebs. Then he lit on a row of upside-down bats. Stifling a reaction, he now knew the source of the putrid smell.
He wanted out of there-now! He lifted his knees from the crossbeam and squatted on his feet, ready to move. Nothing he could do about the cowboy…
His knife poked him, nearly cutting him. His only weapon, maybe the only way he had to defend himself, it was crucial to his survival. He reached down and adjusted it.
But the cowboy was down there staring up at him.
Holding the knife, Kevin forced his arm through the gap. He trained his eye through the same hole. The cowboy nodded at him and bounced his way off to one side of the desk, out of the way.
Kevin sniffed the air again. Still no smoke.
What if he dropped the knife and the cowboy couldn’t reach it? But he had to try. It’d be cruel not to.
With the cowboy’s legs bound to the desk, it was doubtful he could reach the knife if Kevin just let it fall. He had to throw it.
Swinging his arm, Kevin signaled his plan. The cowboy nodded. Kevin hoped like hell they were speaking the same language.
As Kevin leaned lower to tell the cowboy to look out, there was a bang to the right.
Someone had entered the lodge.
“Boy? You hear me, kid?”
It was Matt, the one Kevin had hit with the fire extinguisher.
Kevin let the knife drop. It landed quietly on the rug, which was good, but well out of the cowboy’s reach, which was bad.
“Be that way!” Matt shouted from the living room.
Even if the cowboy managed to reach the knife, he was still locked in the room. Kevin began crawling quietly toward the opposite end of the long attic.
70
The hijackers had closed up the Learjet and camouflaged it well. Summer used her key. The Lear was dark inside, suggesting it was empty, but she stood there a moment before climbing the stairs and then shut herself inside.