Girl Called Fearless: A Girl Undone Part 15

The door slammed behind him. You think this is settled, but I'm not giving up. You are going to tell me what you're up to.

I refuse to let you throw your life away.

I care about you too much.

My hand slipped off the doork.n.o.b. Yes, I care about him. Luke is my friend and we've been through a lot together. But just because I said that doesn't mean I don't love Yates.

Out in the front room, Luke was studying the aerial view of Salvation on the Sportswall. "The feds released a whole bunch more people this morning."

"Do we know if they let Nellie and Rogan go?" I scanned the image of snowy rooftops, searching out Luke's cabin. If Nellie and Rogan were free, maybe Luke would let go of his obsession with Jouvert.

Luke shook his head. "There's no smoke coming from our chimney."

d.a.m.n. How am I going to stop him now?

18.

A little while later, a livestock truck rumbled up the drive. Streicker took off out the back with Luke right after him. I grabbed my coat. I was not going to leave the two of them alone if I could help it.

The truck idled at the gate while Glock and Lugar went nuts, charging the fence around the metal building. Streicker grabbed both dogs and walked them by their collars to a kennel inside the fence, where they barked with their paws on the chain link until Streicker ordered them to lie down.

The truck pulled in, and Luke helped the men lower the ramp. Out came a beef cow with a rough brown coat and white face.

A light snow was falling, and I zipped up my coat. Glock and Lugar eyed me as I pa.s.sed, and I steeled myself, expecting them to bark.

When I got inside the metal building, the cow was standing in front of the backdrop while a man arranged the lights. Luke was stroking her neck and talking quietly to her.

I couldn't quite put it together: girls and cows?

The girls crowded the makeup mirrors. They all wore jeans and cowboy boots, and Western s.h.i.+rts embroidered with roses and doves around the yokes.

Streicker stood over his laptop, checking the image of the cow on the screen and giving directions to the guy in charge of the lighting. Then Streicker led a girl onto the set and put the cow's lead rope in her hand. He made her put her hand on her hip and tilt her body toward the camera. "Chest out, chin up," he told her. "Now unsnap those top two b.u.t.tons."

Smile.

I eased over to the laptop and watched over Streicker's shoulder as the image of the girl and the cow came up on the screen. He popped it into position on a page t.i.tled "LFOD Livestock Sales."

"LFOD?" I said.

"Live Free or Die."

The caption read "C Alberta La.s.s. Hereford." Below the photo was a list of statistics, and the words: "A polled heifer we really like. Very pretty fronted and feminine, but still shows lots of body ma.s.s and fles.h.i.+ng ability. Scarpanol-free. Minimum bid: $17,500."

My mouth went sour. The cattle auction was the front Streicker was using to sell smuggled Canadian girls.

"Why so cheap?" I asked him.

"Not so cheap. Add a zero and double the price."

Three hundred and fifty thousand was a lot less than I went for.

"Not everyone is part of a fifty-million-dollar package," Streicker said, reading my mind. "This is a good deal for a rancher. He gets a nice girl, saves the seventy percent import tax, and can keep his ranch."

"Yeah, and you make how much?"

"Enough."

Enough? Streicker made money smuggling girls and drugs out of the U.S., and then made even more smuggling other girls and drugs in. It had to add up to a fortune.

A strawberry-blonde walked over. Her face was clean scrubbed, and she didn't have her Western wear on. She played nervously with the gold chain around her neck. "I changed my mind," she said. "I want to go home."

The rest of the girls stopped what they were doing, and shot looks at each other. Streicker raised his head like a snake. "Come outside and let's talk."

The girl reached for her coat, but Streicker said, "Leave it."

"Okay," she said warily.

Don't go, I wanted to tell her. I slipped out after them and hung back behind the cattle truck. Streicker had grabbed her wrist and was dragging her to the dog kennel.

"What are you doing?" She bucked and jerked her arm, trying to wrestle free.

He yanked open the chain-link cage, ordered the dogs out, and then threw her in. She tumbled back as he snapped the lock shut. "You signed a contract," he said, jabbing his finger at her. "There's no 'I changed my mind, I want to go home.' You made a deal."

"I'll pay you back. You'll get your money, I promise. No matter how long it takes."

The temperature was below freezing, and the wind swept loose snow up in the air. She wrapped her arms across her chest and stuck her hands in her armpits.

"I sank twenty thousand into getting you here, not to mention the risk I took bringing you in. I don't believe you can pay that back."

"But I made a mistake," she pleaded. "I didn't realize."

"I don't believe that, Bree. You're a smart girl, and smart girls know what they're getting into."

"I didn't know you'd take my pa.s.sport. I didn't know you'd make me change my name."

"Bulls.h.i.+t. You knew you were coming here to get married, and married women change their names."

"I didn't know I'd have to pretend I was Bree Greeley from Topecka."

"That's Topeka, Bree."

"Stop calling me Bree. It's not my name."

"I really don't give a flying-" Streicker turned his back on her and strode toward the gate.

"You're going to leave me out here like this? It's freezing."

"It's up to you, Bree," he called over his shoulder. "Put on the outfit, do the photo shoot, and honor your contract."

I ran after Streicker. "Why don't you let her go? If she doesn't want to be here, she'll just make trouble for you."

"Like you did for Jessop Hawkins?"

Whoa. "I guess I am an example of what can go wrong."

"I can't let Bree change her mind. Not with five other girls watching. It will set a precedent."

I shook my head, frustrated. The girl stood back from the chain link, her shoulders hunched against the cold as Lugar and Glock paced outside the kennel.

"Of course, you could take her place," Streicker said. "You become Bree Greeley, and I set this girl free."

"You're joking, right?"

"Not at all. She gets to walk away. You disappear into a safe new life with a new ident.i.ty. Forget your fool's errand of trying to save the world." Streicker laughed when I didn't answer. "No, on second thought that's too easy. You wouldn't have to tell Luke about the reporters hankering for the truth about that girl who set herself on fire."

Streicker had me cornered, but for some reason I couldn't walk away from that girl in the kennel. "You don't have to let the other girls know you're setting her free. Tell her to fake the photo shoot. Send her back in a few days."

Streicker's eyes narrowed. "You're full of creative ideas, aren't you? I will not spend a dime to get Bree over the border. And I will not give back her pa.s.sport. It won't come close to covering what it cost to get her here. You understand?"

"Yeah. Got it." p.r.i.c.k.

Streicker walked off, and I looked back at the girl s.h.i.+vering inside the cage, the snow pelting her. I knew how she felt-lost and desperate to go home.

I couldn't give her the money she needed or get her back her pa.s.sport. I couldn't do a d.a.m.ned thing-except get her coat.

I tore back to the metal building, and grabbed her red down jacket and stuck it under my arm. Then I dashed toward the kennel, knowing Lola was probably watching at the kitchen window. "Here," I said, stuffing the girl's hat and gloves through the chain link. She pulled them on, and together we worked her jacket under the gate.

Her name was Hanna and her lips were blue. "Thank you. He's not going to set me free, is he?"

"No. He won't return your pa.s.sport, and he won't pay the bribes to get you over the border."

"My dad would pay."

"He would?"

"For sure. He begged me not to leave. I can't believe I was so stupid."

I glanced at the house. No sign of Streicker or Lola. I didn't want to leave Hanna out here by herself. "You must have had a good reason for coming though."

"I thought I did. I couldn't see myself as a miner's wife, living on so little, knowing that one day I could hear those two sharp whistles, telling me I was a widow. So when Mr. Streicker told me he could arrange to marry me to a nice rancher in America, I thought, all right. But I didn't count on it being like this."

"Yeah, it's not what you imagined." I squinted against the blowing snow. It was icy, and felt like tiny nicks on my skin. "Can your father really come up with twenty thousand dollars?"

"It might be hard, but he'd do it. He'd be happy to have me back behind the bar at his tavern."

Maybe Streicker would return her pa.s.sport, if I told him that Hanna's dad would pay to get her back. I didn't want to get her hopes up, though.

"I'm going inside, but I'll check on you, okay?"

She nodded. "Thank you for the coat."

"It was the least I could do."

The least I could do wasn't nearly enough. I walked back to the house, determined to persuade Streicker to let her go. He had plenty of pa.s.sports. He could give Hanna hers.

19.

Lola looked up from her never-ending baking when I walked in. "Boots," she said, pointing at the row beside the door, and gave her dough a twist. I wrestled off my boots and lined them up with the rest.

The Sportswall was on in the front room, so I knew Streicker was there, too. I padded down the hall in my wool socks, trying not to slide on the slick wood.

Streicker was sitting with his back to me when I heard him say, "D.C.'s covered with cameras and security forces. You'd have a hard time taking out Jouvert. Best place to strike would be an outdoor rally."

What? I hung back, listening hard.

"You want a midsize city with a warm climate like Fresno or Greensboro," Streicker continued. "A city that can't afford a big police force."

Luke mumbled something that I strained to catch.

"Yeah, you'd need access to Jouvert's travel schedule. The timing's good, though. Politicians in every state want him to help with their campaigns. Not hard to guess where he'll show up."

This isn't happening. Oh G.o.d. Luke, show me I'm wrong.

"From what I saw earlier, you could use a sniper rifle, but you'd have a better chance of getting the job done if you got closer."

I stepped into the room. "What the h.e.l.l are you talking about?"

Luke's head snapped up, and the look he gave me was the same as when he took the thumb drive away and hung it around his neck. "We're talking about putting an end to Jouvert."

"You mean, a.s.sa.s.sinating him."

"It looks like that's the only way to stop him."

"That's murder!"

"What other option does Luke have, Avie?" Streicker nailed me with his eyes. It's your own fault, girl. You wouldn't tell Luke about the reporters.