Deadly Lode (Trace Brandon Book 1) (10 page)

I drove
slowly
down the mine road and turned left
at
Goat Creek. I
’
d gone about three
-
quarters of a mile when a man with a bandana across his face stepped out of the bushes and held up a hand.
His
other hand held what looked to be a
9mm
automatic
.

I slowed to a stop, keeping the Bronco in first gear with the
clutch down.

“
Just sit tight, Luke. And hang on,
”
I whispered
.
“
I got this son of a bitch.
”

“
You
’
re wasting your time
,
bud,
”
I said
,
as the
masked man
came up to my
open window.
“
I
’
ve only got about twenty bucks on me
, a
nd Luke here isn
’
t carrying any dough.
Y
ou want a stretch in Walla Walla for a lousy twenty bucks?
”

“
Shut your fuck
in
’
hole
. B
oth of you
,
get out of the truck
.
”

“
Okay, okay, just don
’
t get trigger happy.
”

Reaching
for the door handle
with my left hand
, I
used my right hand to cut
the wheel hard
and fast
to the right
. I dumped the clutch
and floored the gas
,
fishtailing the Bronco
hard
into
the outlaw
.
The Bronco's
rear tire caught his
right leg
just below the knee
,
snapp
ing
it
like a twig
.

I slammed on the brakes,
killed the engine, grabbed my Smith
&
Wesson from beside my seat
,
and
jumped out
.
Luke was hot on my heels.
The highwayman had dropped his pistol
on the road
,
and
Luke
kicked
it
out of reach.
The poor bastard
was on his ass
,
rocking
back and forth, holding his
shattered
leg in both hands.
The break was a compound fracture
,
and bone was sticking up through his torn jeans.

“
Okay, amigo,
" I said, "
who sent you
,
and what were you after?
”

“
Fuck you, you son of a bitch
. Y
ou busted my leg all to hell.
”

I
kneeled down, reached out
,
and
tapped on
his
exposed
fibula
with the barrel of
my
.357
M
agn
u
m
.
He screamed like a
wounded hyena
.

I looked over at Luke. He
grinned and spat
a huge stream of brown tobacco
juice.
He was obviously okay with my interrogation techniques.

“
Want to try again, shit for brains?
”

“
All right
. . .
J
esus! Just give me a goddamned second
.
”

“
Second
’
s up,
”
I said
,
mov
ing
the barrel of
my revolver
toward
s
his
exposed and bloody
leg
bone.

“
Okay, okay
!
The guy
who
hired me is named
Thorny
. S
ome shit like that. I
don
’
t know his
real
name. He called
me
and
told me to grab your cores.
”

I grabbed his bandana and told him to wrap it around his leg above the wound.

“
Tie it tight and then loosen it every ten minutes o
r
so. I wouldn
’
t want you
're
sorry ass to bleed to death.
”

“
It hurts like hell,
m
ister.
”

“
Yeah, I bet it does
. Ab
out like
me and Luke would be after you
’
d pumped a few nine millimeters into us.
”

“
No,
sir
. I was told not to hurt you
,
unless absolutely necessary
. I was just to get the core.
”

“
And w
here were you going to take the core?
”

“
Nowhere. I was told to
dump the cores in the Methow River and burn the core boxes.
”

“
Okay,
J
ust hang on
while I call my cousin
,
”
I said, flipping open my cell phone.

“
You
r
cousin? Goddamn
it
!
I need a fuckin
’
ambulance.
”

“
I
’
ll see if he can bring one with him.
”

Luke spit another stream
,
and started laughing.

I called
Henry
and filled him in. He said
Deputy Haines was
just south of Winthrop
and could be on scene in about
twenty
minutes.
He
’
d have
Haines
alert the
paramedics in Winthrop.

I hung up and turned to the injured man
.
“
You
’
re in luck
,
highwayman
. T
he cavalry is on the way.
”

“
Thank
G
od
.
I
’
m dying here.
”

“
Don
’
t worry
,
dickhead
. Y
ou
’
re not going to die.
But
,
y
ou may wish you would unless I get a few
more
answers before
help
arrives,
”
I
said, moving my gun closer to his leg.

“
Hold on
. . .
g
oddamn it, just
hold on with the fuck
i
n
’
gun barrel.
”

“
Okay,
”
I said, lowering my shooter
,
“
I
want a few answers. First off
,
who the hell are you?
”

“
My name
’
s
Ike Moffit.
”

“
And where did you go to college, Ike?
”

Luke cracked up
, nearly choking on his chaw.

“
College? What in
the
hell are you talking about?
”

I
c
huckled
.
“
R
elax
.
I
’
m
just having some fun
. N
o reason this can
’
t be fun
, Ike
.
So, what
do you do when you
’
re not stealing core
?
”

“
I run some numbers, do some loan
-
sharking, help people remember promises they made. That sort of shit.
”

“
I see. So
, who were you supposed to call when the job was finished?
”

“
I
’
m to call a number and leave a message.
”

“
What number?
”

“
It
’
s on a piece of paper in my shirt pocket.
”

“
You right
-
handed or left
-
handed, amigo?
”

“
Right.
”

“
Okay, with your left hand
,
reach up, very slowly, and take the paper out of your pocket. Try anything cute
,
and I
’
ll do a little tap dance on
your
fibula
.
”

Ike retrieved the number and handed it to me. It was a Spokane area number.

“
Thanks, p
ardner
. Just rest easy
. T
he law and paramedics are
on the way
.
”

“
Why
’
d you say you were calling your cousin?
”

“
I did call
my cousin
. Just so happens
,
my cousin
i
s also
the
s
heriff of Okanogan County
.
”

Deputy Haines and the medics arrived a few minutes later.
Luke and
I explained what happened
while the medics loaded Ike into the ambulance.

“
We
’
ll have to haul him to Brewster,
”
Haines said,
carefully bagging and tagging Ike
’
s
9mm
pistol
.
“
It
’
s the closest hospital. When he
’
s able, we
’
ll book him into the county jail in Okanogan. You
’
ll need to come by and give a statement and file formal charges.
”

“
No
,
charges,
d
eputy
,
”
I said
.
“
H
e wasn
’
t out to hurt
anybody. H
e
just wanted the core. I think I know who put him up to it
,
but there
’
s no way we
’
ll be able to prove it.
Plus
,
the poor bastard will probably limp the rest of his life.
”

“
Well
,
if
he
’
s a convicted felon
, which I
’
d bet he is, with a
hand
gun
,
he
’
ll be
going away
.
”

I smiled at Deputy Hai
nes
.
“
I think I
can live with that.
”