The anthropologist walked over to the screen table, where she carefully rubbed at the sand and soil around the object. She then held it up for the others to see. It was a medallion in the shape of three interlocking triangles.
"A Valknut," Lucy whispered.
Gates turned the medallion over and rubbed at the back. "There's some initials," she said. "R.P."
As everybody turned toward him, R. P. Brown backed away with a wild look in his eyes and his fists held in front as if ready to fight. "It ain't mine!" he shouted.
"Don't worry about it, R.P.," Marlene said. "We know someone else with those initials. His name is Rufus Porter."
Brown lowered his fists with a look of relief. "Oh, I know that son of a bitch. He's always over at that Unified Church place. Piece of shit thinks he's real tough when he's hanging around with those assholes."
Jojola laughed. "Couldn't have put it better myself, old friend."
Brown grinned. "Thanky kindly."
Lucy walked up to Gates and hugged her. "We…she…was pregnant. Please make sure the baby is buried with her mother and grandmother." She then turned and walked away so that only her mother, who was closest, heard her say, "Me aflijo para usted y su nino… I grieve for you and your child."
"Katarain told me that he found a positive pregnancy indicator strip in Maria's trash," Marlene said to Gates, who nodded and turned back to her task. "By the way, where is Katarain?"
Jojola looked back to the road leading to the compound. He pointed to the figures of Katarain and Esteban, who were joined by the other four Basques, as they continued marching.
"Marlene, I think you better get to your radio and let Ireland know that trouble's on the way," Jojola said. He and Tran then took off for the van, jumped in, and roared off in pursuit of the Basques.
A few minutes later, Sheriff Steve Ireland winced as he looked up at the approaching van. The wound in his side, which was more than just a grazing and, he figured, was going to require a surgeon, was starting to stiffen up. However, they were almost done.
Most of the prisoners had been loaded onto the county jail bus and taken to the lockup. The bus had just returned for the last eight, who were the hardcores who'd holed up in the barracks.
He'd cut their power, which had left them with no communications, as cell phones didn't work on the property. He'd then given them a liberal dose of flash-bang grenades and tear gas, which had set off the barracks' sprinkler system.
Dumb thing to have, he thought as the temperature dropped and the shivering, stunned holdouts gave up and surrendered.
The eight were still shivering as they waited to board the bus when the van slid to a stop and Katarain and the other Basques stepped out with their rifles.
Ireland frowned. "I thought our deal was I wouldn't see you," he said to Katarain.
"Deal's off," Katarain said grimly. "We found my daughter. Now I've come for one of her killers. I think he's here." The Basque turned to the prisoners. "Rufus Porter, step forward and meet your justice in the name of Maria Santacristina."
Back in the line of prisoners, Rufus Porter blanched. Up to this point, he'd been playing the tough guy, threatening Ireland with all sorts of dire consequences "when my dad hears about this."
Ireland had just grinned and replied. "Your daddy's going to have his hands full trying to keep his baby boy from serving time in prison as some big hairy hillbilly's girlfriend."
Porter had scoffed and looked at his fellow prisoners. "We'll see who's bending over and taking it in the ass when this is all over."
Now Porter turned to Ireland with a sneer. "I'm your prisoner," he said. "Tell this spic to get lost."
However, before Ireland could do anything, the Basques suddenly pointed their rifles. "Looks like they got the drop on me and my boys," the sheriff said with his hands in the air.
Katarain spoke to the man behind him. "Esteban, the rope." The younger man stepped forward with a rope on which a hangman's noose had already been fashioned.
Porter blanched and started to tremble. "Sheriff, do something! I don't know what the hell he's talking about."
"Sorry, son," Ireland replied. "But your miserable neck ain't worth the lives of me or my men."
Porter stared bug-eyed at the lynch party. "Okay, okay, I was there. But I was only tagging along. That attorney, Barnhill, he called my dad and said Huttington had a problem he needed taken care of. I just got the boys together. Rick, Skitter, and Jonesy, they're the ones that did it."
Porter pointed to three other men in the group, who scowled and cursed him. "You're a dead man, Porter," Skitter spat.
"We'll hang them next," Katarain said as two of his men pulled Porter from the others and he placed the noose over Porter's head.
Porter was pulled roughly over to a large cottonwood tree where Katarain threw the end of the rope over a low branch and tied it off to the trunk. A pickup truck was brought over. Katarain climbed in and hauled the screaming man into the bed, where he was forced to stand.
"Oh God, Sheriff, don't let 'em lynch me," Porter cried as a dark spot grew in his underwear.
"Sorry, boy, nothin' I can do, and by the way, you pissed on yourself, tough guy," the sheriff said, and turned away.
"You buried her alive, sasikumea, you bastard," Katarain snarled into Porter's ear. "Quit trying to blame others, Huttington didn't know what you did to my daughter."
"Yes, he did. Yes, he did," Porter screeched in terror. "We sent him a photograph that Reverend Hamm took. Showed the four of us standing around the car with the girl inside. He's the one that mailed it to that girl I raped to scare her. And there's more…Huttington let Hamm and whoever he works for use the university's computers. I can tell you more, please, just don't kill me."
"Too late," Katarain said, and pushed Porter off the back of the truck.
"Nooooo!" Porter screamed, and kept screaming when the knot around the tree gave way and he hit the ground. It took most of a minute for him to realize that he wasn't swinging by the neck and slowly suffocating.
The Basques, the sheriff and his men, and even some of the prisoners were laughing. Esteban hauled Porter to his feet and took the noose off his neck, but then stepped back and wrinkled his nose. "I think he shit his pants."
Porter looked around, wide-eyed. Then yelled at the sheriff, who was wiping tears from his eyes. "You tricked me, you son of a bitch," he said. "Ain't no way what I just said ends up in court."
Ireland shrugged. "Fine by me. I think we got plenty to nail you with anyway, ain't that right, Jojola?"
"Oh yeah," Jojola said as he and Tran got out of the van.
They'd intercepted Katarain halfway back and talked him out of murdering Porter on the spot. "Marlene's gone through a lot to do this the right way," he'd argued, and the Basque had finally relented. Then they'd cooked up the "lynch mob" and radioed ahead to Ireland.
"There's plenty to put this piece of shit away," Tran added.
"Good, then I think you can just rejoin your buddies over there, Rufus," Ireland said, pointing to where the Aryans were glaring at their former comrade. "Explain to them your little tirade. You can all kiss and make up in the pokey."
Porter eyed the other prisoners and swallowed hard. "Hey, guys, you know I was just shining these freaks on. Didn't mean none of it," he said, but received only more glares and curses.
A deputy grabbed him by the arm to lead him to the bus, but Porter pulled his arm away. "Uh, Sheriff, can we talk?" he said.
"Why, sure, Rufus," Ireland said. "You can ride back to Sawtooth with me, and if you'd like to give a statement on the way, I'll see what can be done about getting you your own room in my little hotel with bars."