Love Mercy Part 27

"No, Rett will be here in a minute."

"Meet you at the ranch then."

She poured some dry dog food out for Ace and filled his water dish, in case it turned out to be a late night. What she really hoped was that by the time they arrived at the ranch, August was sitting in his worn leather chair laughing at all of them for being so silly.

Love was at the curb when Rett drove up. When Rett started to get out of the driver's seat, she motioned her back. "No, you drive. I'll tell you how to get there."

Love was glad in that moment that someone else was at the wheel. While she had waited, like an incoming tsunami, all the sorrows of her life seemed to flow over her: losing DJ, then Daddy and Mama, Tommy's too early death and her dear, sweet Cy. All of them gone. Were they all together? Could they see what was going on? Did the saints sit on heaven's sidelines and cheer on the ones left behind as she'd been told by so many ministers? Love wasn't ready to lose one more person she loved.

Benni, Gabe, Dove and Mel all beat Rett and Love to the ranch. They were standing around the round kitchen table looking at an old topographical map chicken-scratched with notations. The sight of Cy's familiar printed letters caused Love to inhale sharply. She longed for his strong arm around her shoulders, a.s.suring her that things would work out fine.

"I called Rocky and Magnolia," Mel said. "They're on their way. Should we call search and rescue?"

"Already did," Gabe said. "They'll be here soon, but I suggested we start looking on our own. We know this ranch better than they do. They agreed." Having Gabe, a former police chief, take control made Love feel less panicked. He spoke directly to Love. "Daisy came back without him."

Everyone was silent a moment. That wasn't a good sign.

"I'll start baking a chicken," Polly said, wiping her hands down her ap.r.o.n. "And I'll make some biscuits. It'll keep while you all fetch August. Heats up easy. He'll likely be hungry."

"That's a good idea," Dove said, heading for the kitchen. "Give me some fruit. I'll make a cobbler."

While Dove and Polly set about doing the thing that they'd grown up doing when disaster struck, the rest of them turned to Gabe, whose high brown cheekbones seemed cut with a diamond knife. Rocky and Magnolia walked into the room just as Gabe started to talk. Zane followed behind them.

"Hey," Rocky said. "Zane was working at the church when you called. Thought we could need another set of eyes and legs."

"Always helpful," Gabe said, nodding at them.

"Okay, let's do this in teams," Gabe said. "Benni and Mel, Love and Rett, Zane and me. Rocky, I need you and Magnolia to stay here to tell the search and rescue when they arrive what we're doing." He pointed at Love. "You take the jeep, since I'm a.s.suming Rett isn't an experienced rider." He looked at Rett, and she nodded, her face solemn. "Take the north side, because it has the most drivable roads."

He pointed to the other sections of the ranch. "Benni and Mel, you two take the south part, starting at the lightning tree and to beyond the old avocado orchard. Zane and I will ride the western and eastern sections over by Smuggler's Cave and Siler's Ridge."

"We only have one horse," Love said. "I'm sure Daisy's in no shape . . ."

"We figured on that," Benni said. "We brought three. Tacked them up while we were waiting for you."

"Okay, everyone coordinate cell phone numbers, and let's get going," Gabe said.

Zane and Rett, quickest at that sort of thing, entered everyone's numbers in their cell phones so that they'd all be in constant communication . . . that is, if the phones worked at all sections of the ranch.

Benni handed each of them a red backpack. "They're actually for earthquakes, but they have everything you need: water, food, basic first aid supplies, flashlights."

"Let's pray before you all go," Rocky said.

They all gathered in a circle and held hands, listening to Rocky's hoa.r.s.e, sure voice ask G.o.d to keep August safe, to keep the searchers safe and, most of all, for them to trust and believe that all things work for the glory of G.o.d.

Love felt frozen as Rocky prayed, wanting to join in but feeling like a phony, begging for G.o.d's help when she'd ignored him for so long.

She drove the old jeep up the road toward the northern section of the ranch. It was soupy from the recent rain, and a couple of times they had to get out and push the jeep out of a soggy pothole. Love was proud of Rett. She pushed with grit and determination, stronger than her slight frame appeared.

They drove up roads barely wide enough to accommodate the vehicle, and Love scanned the deep crevice on her side, searching for a movement, a glimpse of faded denim. The old engine was loud enough to drown out any cries of help, so she was depending on her eyes to spot any indication of August. But there was no sign of him. Of all times for Ring to go lame and have to stay home. Love was sure if Ring had been with August instead of recuperating in the house, the dog would have led them to him.

They'd driven about a mile following the road that Love knew he customarily rode up to the northern part of the ranch when, like a flash of lightning, it hit Love where August might be.

She turned to Rett. "You know what? I bet he's at Big Barn."

Rett nodded, as if that was the most logical thing in the world that her grandma could have said. "Is it far from here?"

"About another half mile." Love felt her stomach clench.

"Should I call everyone?" Rett asked taking out Love's cell phone.

Love thought for a moment. "Not yet. I could be wrong, and then the search would get all screwed up. It'll only take us a few minutes to get there."

Since the day she and Mel rode up there to check out the strange writing August had complained about, and she told Mel the words he'd put into Morse code, she'd worried about his mind. But she figured they still had a little time. Most of the time, he seemed fine, and there had been so much happening with Rett that she decided she'd talk to Polly about it after Christmas. It was obvious now that had been a mistake. She tried to reel in her imagination, tried not to picture his battered body lying in a deep, brush-covered ravine somewhere, hidden from their view, vulnerable to the elements and wild animals that roamed these hills.

Love glanced up at the sky where the sun had already dipped behind a hill, a tangerine glow making the oak trees like sharp pencil sketches against a lavender blue sky.

Rett followed her gaze. "It'll be dark soon. Do you think the search and rescue can find him if we don't?" Love heard a tremble in her granddaughter's voice.

"I don't know," Love said, both hands death-gripped on the cold steering wheel. But she did know. Once it got dark, they always called off the search until the next morning.

They didn't speak again until they rounded the corner, and Big Barn came into view. Against the plum-colored sky, it loomed like a haunted house, its crooked, sunk-in roof giving it a lopsided, nightmarish quality.

"Spooky," Rett said, her words coming out with a soft breath.

That was the exact word that Love was thinking.

They were about a hundred yards away when something in Love caused her to cut the engine.

"What's wrong?" Rett said.

"It might be better if we walked in," Love said.

"Why?" Rett knitted her pale brown eyebrows together.

Love couldn't explain it. It was something a city person might not understand. Love had not only grown up in the woods, she'd spent much of her life up here with Cy, riding this land, learning its contours and sounds. There was a vibration in the air, something that didn't feel right. She realized now why she'd not really been afraid when she'd come here a few days ago with Mel. She'd not felt anything then. Not like now.

"Stay here in the jeep. Let me check it out first." She climbed out and started slowly walking toward the barn.

"Pops," she called out, her voice clear and strong in the cool, early dusk. "It's Love, Pops. Are you in there?" Suddenly, she wished she'd thought to bring Cy's shotgun. She was too vulnerable out in the open. Anyone could be hiding in Big Barn. She stopped, turned to go back and saw Rett walking toward her.

"Get back!" She waved her granddaughter away.

Rett moved up beside her. "No, I want to come with you. I'm not a kid."

Love was about to snap at her that it had nothing to do with being a kid, when there was a crack. A puff of dirt exploded in front of them. Crack-crack, crack.

Instinctively, Love tackled Rett, slamming her to the ground.

"What?" Rett warbled as she hit the ground with a thump.

"Don't move!" Love commanded.

THIRTY.

Rett Gunshots," her grandma said in a hoa.r.s.e voice.

Rett froze where she lay, feeling the damp, cold leaves on her cheek. Though her first instinct was to get up and run, she pushed back her panic. Relax, she told herself. She could barely see her grandma in the darkening twilight. Love had rolled over on her stomach and was watching the barn, where a light flickered somewhere deep in its bowels. She could hear her grandma's harsh, heavy breathing, the sound of wind in the trees, a bird's twitter, a rustling in the bushes to her left. Everything seemed louder, bigger, slower. The last few minutes felt like a movie she was watching in a dark theater.

"Don't move," Love whispered. Rett felt the soaked soil give under her when she s.h.i.+fted.

"Well, dang," her grandma said. "One hit me."

Rett felt her throat constrict. "Are you okay? What should we do?" Are you going to die? she thought.

"Crawl ahead of me. Keep low. We need to get behind the jeep. I'll be fine. It's just a surface wound."

Like some kind of old black-and-white war movie, they crawled toward the jeep, Rett's elbows and knees stained with soil, wet leaves sticking to her chilled skin. Time did that crazy thing it did when she was writing a song: it both stood still and flew by. She crawled and crawled for what seemed forever, waiting to hear another crack, another puff of dirt. But the only thing she heard was her own heavy breathing.

Behind the jeep, Love crouched and looked out toward the barn. It was dark and quiet; the source of light had moved deeper into the barn. For a moment, Rett wondered if they'd imagined the gunshots. She s.h.i.+vered and sat back against a front tire, waiting for her grandma to speak.

"Well, that stings a little," Love said, looking down at her shoulder. Blood seeped through her blue cowboy s.h.i.+rt, the stain appearing black in the dusky light. "Stay low, and get the backpack. Find me something to put over this."

Crouching, Rett fumbled with the jeep door, finding the backpack. She sat back down and unzipped it. For the first time in her life, Rett was truly terrified. Mister G.o.d, she prayed, help needed here, like, right now. Not a muscle moved on Love's face, but Rett knew she had to be in pain. She handed her the biggest gauze pad in the backpack. "Does it hurt?"

Love pressed the pad down on her shoulder, giving Rett a small smile. "Don't worry, Sweet Pea. It looks worse than it is. Try to call someone on my cell while I apply pressure."

Rett nodded, amazed at her grandma's composure. She flipped the cell phone open, the blue light from the screen illuminating her face. "No service." Rett felt like crying. El Senor, she prayed, feeling her breathing grow shallow. Stars popped and sizzled in front of her eyes. We really, really need some help.

In seconds, she felt a warm peace wash over her. Her breathing slowed, and the stars started fading away. They'd be okay. Somehow, she knew that.

Love struggled up and peered over the hood of the jeep at the barn. "You know, I wonder . . . Oh, Lord, have mercy. It's August."

Rett crawled over to Love and crouched next to her. She could see a light silhouetting a figure in the window. The figure held some kind of lantern. Even from their distance, maybe the length of a football field, Rett could also see it was August. He cradled a rifle in one hand and held a lantern in the other.

"What's he doing?" Rett asked, confused.

"I don't know," Love said. "But he must not realize it's us."

"August . . . Pops," Love called out. "It's Love. What's going . . . ?"

Before she could finish, he threw open the window and pointed the gun in the direction of her voice.

"Down!" she hissed, jerking Rett's arm.

"You'll not take me, you dirty b.a.s.t.a.r.ds!" he yelled. "Here's one for stinkin' Herr Hitler." The tat-tat of his shots echoed through the trees.

Love leaned her head against the jeep's door. "He thinks he's back in the war."

Nervous laughter gurgled in the back of Rett's throat. She knew that was totally not cool, but this was like some kind of insane music video. Did people really do that, go crazy and think they were in some other time? Did her great-grandpa August really believe she and her grandma were German soldiers? That was so messed up.

"Well, okay," she said, not knowing what else to say.

"If we're lucky, Gabe or some of the others heard those gunshots," Love said, glancing up at the early night sky. Stars were starting to show themselves, like tiny white carbonated bubbles. "But we have to find a way to try to warn them. I don't want them riding up without knowing what's happening. Someone could get hurt."

Somebody already has, Rett almost said.

"What should we do?" Rett asked, s.h.i.+vering. A cold breeze shook oak leaves in the trees above them, a soft rattling sound, like an old-time recording of people applauding.

"I'm going to try to move over to that rise over there." Love pointed to a hill behind them. "The phone might pick up a signal there."

"I should go," Rett said. "You're hurt."

"No. I'd never forgive myself if something happened to you."

"But, grandma-"

"No argument!" Love snapped, and Rett could hear the steel in her voice.

Except Rett always argued. Her grandma would learn that. "So, what if you get shot again?"

Love gripped her shoulder. "I won't."

Rett folded her arms across her chest. "But if you do."

Love's mouth turned into a slashed line. "Do not mess with me right now, Rett. Just do what I say and wait here."

"Fine, General Johnson," Rett said, holding up her hands. "Just be careful."

"I will." Love's voice softened. She reached over and patted Rett's knee. "I'll be okay. We'll all get out of this alive."

"I know," Rett said, making her voice sound more confident than she felt.

She watched her grandma crawl through the gra.s.s until she couldn't see her any longer. Then she turned and stood up slightly, trying to see if August was watching. He'd moved away from the window, but she could see the lantern's light bobbing inside the barn. What was he doing? Was he scared? Did he think that his buddies had deserted him? It made her sad to think he was feeling that way, alone and scared, especially when it wasn't true.

For some reason, she remembered what she'd once read about writing-songs, books, poems, whatever-how it was really just carrying the Golden Rule to its complete meaning, that being a writer meant trying to see things from someone else's point of view, imagining yourself to be them. She tried to imagine August's fear, how alone he felt, what he'd be wis.h.i.+ng for, who he'd be hoping to see. It hit her like a slap on the head.

"August!" she called out. "It's Aggie. I want to talk to you."

Behind her, she heard the faint sound of her grandma's voice cry, "No. Lord, me. Me-not her. Please. Please."