Holdin' On for a Hero Page 11

  Chapter Four

  Jackson County, North Carolina

  Billy Hawkes was sitting at the bar in Ralph’s when Greg Holling and a dozen of his men walked in. Billy looked at Ralph behind the bar. Ralph finished drawing a beer from the tap then moved over beside the register where an old shotgun was hidden.

  Greg Holling looked around at the people in the bar and smirked. “Well, boys, looks like we can take our pick tonight. Which one of these red bastards should we skin first?”

  His friends laughed and Greg opened his coat to display a handgun stuck in the top of his pants. People in the bar muttered uneasily among themselves, unsure whether to attempt to leave or just sit still and hope there would not be trouble.

  But Greg Holling was there to make trouble. He pulled a long-bladed hunting knife from his coat and grabbed the waitress’s arm as she tried to skirt around him.

  “Looks like this little honey’s ripe for pickin’, boys,” he laughed as he ran the tip of the blade down the side of the girl’s face, drawing blood.

  The sight caused more than a few of the men in the bar to rise from their seats, including Billy Hawkes. “Let her go!” he demanded loudly, starting toward Greg.

  “Who’s gonna make me?” Greg laughed. “You, Red Boy? Or should I call you Yellow? That is what you people are, isn’t it? Yellow?”

  Billy took another step closer. “I said let her go!”

  Behind the bar, Ralph pulled the old shotgun from beneath the counter. He hadn’t even raised it above bar level when the sound of a shot rang out. Ralph grunted as a bullet passed through his left shoulder and embedded in the wall behind him. A look of shock spread over his face as he stumbled back and fell, blood drenching the left side of his chest.

  Greg Holling shoved the girl to the floor and leveled the gun at Billy. “You next, Billy Hero? Ready to meet that Great Spirit in the Sky?”

  Billy’s eyes darted nervously from Greg to his men. He could hear nervous whispers behind him, people urging him to back down and not get himself shot. After a moment he dropped his eyes. Greg laughed and kicked out, catching Billy in the chest and sending him reeling backward into a table. Greg’s men fanned out, barring the exit as Greg walked over and picked up a bottle from behind the bar.

  While everyone watched in apprehension he pulled a white handkerchief from his pocket, doused it with liquor then stuffed it down into the liquor bottle. With a smirk at the people watching, he set the bottle down on the bar, took a lighter from his shirt and lit the cloth.

  The whispers and mutterings grew in volume as people started to get up from their seats. “Hold it right there.” Greg waved his gun as he walked toward the door. “First one to move dies.”

  Everyone in the bar froze in place, watching in fear as Holling’s men backed out the door. Greg was the last to leave. Before he did he threw the burning bottle across the room. It hit the back wall and exploded. The alcohol was like gasoline, fueling the flames. Tongues of fire crept like tendrils along the floor and up the walls.

  People began screaming and running for the door. Ralph was trampled by the mob as he tried to reach the fire and put it out. The first person through the door made it no farther than the steps before gunfire erupted. Blood spurted from the man’s legs in three different places before he fell.

  That created more chaos. The bar was burning and there was no escape. Billy made his way over to Ralph and helped him up from the floor as men began knocking the glass out of the windows and climbing out. He was coughing and choking from the smoke by the time he made it to the window.

  The sounds of guns being fired and the screams made it seem like a nightmare. Billy shoved Ralph out of the window then dove out behind him. As he hit the ground something pressed against his back. He looked around and saw one of Holling’s men, holding a hunting rifle.

  “Looks like we get to have us a hunt tonight.” Greg Holling laughed as he sauntered over to where Billy lay. “Load him in the truck, boys.”

  Billy fought against the men but there were too many. They put him in the back of Holling’s black pickup and piled in around him.

  He saw people watching from the parking lot as the truck pulled onto the road. Soon their figures were just silhouettes against a backdrop of fire.

  Deep Creek

  Wyatt sat down by the fire and stared at the flames for a long time. Chance didn’t know what he was feeling and was afraid to be the first to speak but eventually the silence was too much. “Wyatt, do you remember killing that man on Clingman’s Dome?”

  He turned and looked at her. “I think so, it’s all still kind of mixed up in my head. I didn’t remember anything about it for a long time. In fact, I had no idea I was involved in his death until recently. I went up to the Dome and camped out and I had a dream about it.”

  “You dreamed about what happened?”

  “Yeah.” He looked into the flames. “It was like I was there again.”

  He got up and put a couple of branches on the fire. “I always knew there was something I should remember about that time but I just couldn’t get it to come into focus, you know? But when Tsa’li sent us back I saw it. Only when that man showed up it made me think about those men who killed my mother. This rage started boiling in my stomach and all of a sudden it was like I was ten feet tall and not afraid of anything.”

  He sat down beside her again. “The visions of my mother’s death faded and I saw that man trying to rape you and something snapped inside me. I had to stop him from hurting you. I started toward him and saw him look at me like he was seeing some kind of monster. And I saw my hands wrap around his throat, stab into his neck. I felt myself kill him, Chance. Then I looked at you and you were scared half to death. The last thing I remember was reaching for you.”

  Chance searched his face, putting her hand on his arm. “I was afraid, Wyatt. You didn’t look like you anymore. To me you looked like…like someone I didn’t know. Your eyes were…I don’t know, wild or something…like an animal, and you were covered with blood. I thought you were going to hurt me. But then you touched me and I knew you wouldn’t hurt me. You fell down on your knees and put your arms around my waist and buried your head against me and I could feel you shaking. I don’t know why, but I knew I had to protect you. It’s strange, isn’t it, how we both blocked that out? I guess that was the only way we could protect ourselves.”

  “You realize that what you really did was protect a murderer?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “That’s not true. You saved me from being raped and possibly killed, Wyatt. That’s not murder.”

  He looked down for a moment. “Chance, I am a killer. That man wasn’t the first. There are other things I’ve remembered. Like the men who killed my mother.”

  “I don’t know about that. I never really knew all the details about how your mother died.”

  “She died at the Dome,” Wyatt said in a low voice. “We had gone to try and see the enchanted lake. Some men showed up. They raped and beat her and forced me to watch. She died in front of my eyes. Then they left us there. For a long time I thought I just stayed there with her body until my dad found us. But that’s not what happened. I followed those men and killed all but two of them.”

  Chance thought about what Adeola had told her. “Wyatt, I have a hard time believing that a ten-year-old boy could have killed a grown man.”

  Wyatt didn’t say anything and Chance leaned over to look at his face. “And even if you did kill them, it wouldn’t change anything.”

  He looked surprised and Chance smiled. “Regardless of what happened, I know the person you are inside. You’re not a cold-blooded killer. You’re compassionate and caring and you wouldn’t indiscriminately take a life. You don’t enjoy inflicting pain. That’s not who you are.”

  “I know of at least three women and a whole lot of men who would disagree with you,” he said harshly.

  “What they think doesn’t matter. They don’t know you the way I do. Wyatt, I’ve kn
own you almost all my life and I know you aren’t that kind of man.”

  “You’re so wrong,” he said in a grim voice. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

  “Yes, I do. I remember what happened graduation night. I know what you did to Mark.”

  Wyatt’s eyes grew round and his face paled. Chance thought he was going to pass out when he started gasping like he couldn’t breathe.

  “Wyatt!” She grabbed his shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

  He tore away from her and jumped up, smashing his hand into the rock wall of the cave. Chance jumped in alarm as he threw back his head and a sound like an animal’s roar emerged from his lips. When the sound finally died down, Wyatt put his hands over his face and sagged against the wall. Chance got up and hesitantly approached him. She reached out to touch him then withdrew her hand, afraid of what his reaction would be.

  He didn’t move and neither did she. The only sound was the crackling of the fire and the sound of his harsh breathing. Chance didn’t know what to do but felt she had to do something. She reached out and put her hand on his arm. “Wyatt, please, come sit down.”

  After a few moments he dropped his hands and looked at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Tell you what?”

  “That it was me that—that I killed that boy.”

  Chance took his hand and pulled him. “Come on, sit down with me.”

  He complied and they took a seat by the fire. “I didn’t know for sure it was you until tonight,” she said. “I remembered while I was in that trance or whatever it was.”

  “Then how can you say I’m not a killer?” he asked in a voice filled with despair.

  “Because you were saving me,” she said without hesitation. “If you hadn’t shown up he would have raped me. And I couldn’t defend myself. I was too dazed from hitting my head on the car. Just like the first time, you were rescuing me. If you want to lay blame on someone, lay it on me. If you hadn’t spent your life watching out for me then none of this would have happened.”

  “What kind of man am I?” he asked in a strained whisper. “Do you think my parents knew I would turn out like this when I was born? They must have.”

  “What makes you say that?” Chance was confused by his statement.

  “My name,” he rasped harshly. “Why else would they name me that?”

  “Wyatt?” she asked. “What’s wrong with Wyatt?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “My other name—Une’ga-dihi.”

  “Une’ga-dihi,” Chance repeated the name softly. “That’s beautiful. What does it mean?”

  “White-men killer.” Wyatt’s voice rose in volume angrily. “So, you tell me—did they know I would be this way? Could they have possibly known back then what kind of man I’d turn out to be?”

  Chance wondered if she could adequately answer that question. Since she had arrived there reality had taken on a new perspective, a twist had developed in the plot of her life. She had been given knowledge that she honestly didn’t know how to believe or explain. But she did know that she had to help Wyatt. There was nothing else she could do.

  “Wyatt, you say you remember the day your mother died?” she asked softly, changing the subject from his name.

  “What does that have to do with anything? I already told you what I remembered.”

  “Did you? Isn’t there something else? Think, Wyatt. After the men killed her what did you do?”

  He frowned at her fiercely. “I threw myself across her and cried then I went after them.”

  Chance nodded. “Yes, you went after them. But didn’t something happen before that?”

  “No! I told you! She was dead and I was lying there with her and—”

  His voice stopped suddenly and he looked at her in shock. “And I was begging for someone to help me.”

  Raking his hands through his hair, he closed his eyes. “I heard something. The wind…no…not the wind…but like the wind. It was a voice. It was speaking to me. I looked around for the source of the voice but there was no one there. There was nothing—”

  His eyes flew open and his words came faster and faster. “There was nothing but a mist. It rose up out of the ground and moved toward me, like it was alive. It came for me. I jumped up and backed away…afraid of the strange mist. But it grew bigger, and swirled all around me. Then I heard the voice again. Only this time I could understand. It asked me if I would take the help that was offered, if I dared to, and I didn’t know why but I said yes. The voice sounded like the boom of thunder in my mind. It said I was One and that I was the Warrior. That I should join and become the Champion of the People. I didn’t understand but the voice told me how. It said I had only to believe it. So I did. I made myself believe it with all my heart. The voice and the mist instantly vanished and I felt like I was in the middle of a tornado, spinning around and around. Suddenly something swelled up in my mind, like my head being filled with too much at once. When the feeling stopped I felt like a giant. Like there was something stronger than me inside of me and nothing could ever hurt me.”

  He looked at Chance with astonishment on his face. “That’s when I went after the men.”

  She nodded and took his hand. “Remember when we were kids and you would tell me your ‘Wolf Tales’?”

  He smiled. The Wolf Tales were something his father had started when Wyatt was a child. As is the case with all children, Wyatt was curious about his family, and why they had such an odd family name. No one else on the reservation had a name like Wolfe. His father had explained that the name came from his own father who was Choctaw. Wolfe meant ‘wolf’ in the Choctaw language. They decided to call the stories the Wolf Tales. No one else would ever equate that with their name but the two of them and that made it special.

  Later, when he’d ended up with Chance and her family, Wyatt had introduced her to the Wolf Tales and had explained about his mixed heritage and the origin of his name. She’d teased him ever since by calling him the Big Bad Wolf.

  Wyatt pulled himself back to the moment and gave her a slight nod. “Well, you remember the one about the children of Star Woman? How one was Brother of Light Face and the other was Brother of Dark Face?”

  “It’s only a legend,” he said.

  “But what if it’s not?” she asked then paused to consider her words before speaking. “What if that’s what happened to you? What if your spirit joined with the spirit of another, some opposite being—different from you in every way? Negative to your positive, evil to your good? Maybe a spirit that remembered the bloodshed and wars your people endured? What if that’s what happens to you when you’re in danger or trying to protect someone? What if that spirit becomes dominant and that’s why you can’t remember?”

  Wyatt shook his head. “Chance, that’s crazy.”

  “Is it?” She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t think so.”

  “Why?” He turned and put his hands on her shoulders. “Why would you want to believe something like that? Why can’t you just accept that there’s something wrong with me? That I’m violently insane.”

  “I can’t—I won’t believe that,” she argued. “You might be hard inside and even capable of causing pain, but you’re not insane and you’re not a cold-blooded killer.”

  “Hard? Capable of causing pain? I guess you mean to you.”

  “Yes.” She met his eyes. “All these years since…well, since the baby…every time I saw you, you acted like you could barely stand to be in the same room with me. You brought those women around and rubbed it in my face that you were with them. It hurt, Wyatt.”

  “I was hurt, too,” he said defensively. “As far as I knew you had killed my child—acted like all the rich white people I’d ever known. Used me then moved on to something better.”

  Chance’s eyes flashed and her face flushed as her anger rose. “You really piss me off sometimes!”

  Wyatt looked at her with his mouth hanging open in surprise, and she socked him in the chest with her fist.
“You know me better than that, dammit! You knew, you’ve always known that I love you. You couldn’t possibly have believed that I’d do something like that.”

  “That’s what I thought!” he argued in a rising tone. “Cheryl told me—”

  “Cheryl? God, how stupid could you be, believing her? For Christ’s sake, she and Patricia were thick as thieves! Or were you so dammed dense that you thought Cheryl had found the money for your little wedding trip lying on the sidewalk? Oh, don’t look so shocked. I heard Adeola and Beda talking about how Patricia and Maurice had given you and Cheryl ten thousand dollars for some lavish honeymoon.”

  “What? She told me her grandparents gave her the money.”

  “Well then, you’re a bigger fool that I thought.” Chance pushed him. “Anyone who would believe that, I’d like to talk to about some swampland I own.”

  Wyatt’s eyes narrowed. “Can we change the subject?”

  She snorted and tossed her hair. “Why? Does the truth hurt?”

  “Chance, just drop it.” His voice was tight and she could tell he was beginning to get angry. But at that moment she didn’t care. Everything was crashing in on her at once and she felt like she was going to explode.

  “No, let’s not!” she snapped. “I’m tired of being treated like some old rug you can walk on and not give it a second thought. You have no idea what I’ve felt, do you? How it’s been to go through life loving someone so much that you hurt inside and having him treat you as if you were nothing. So do me one gigantic favor and don’t give me any more of your pathetic excuses or arrogant orders. If you don’t care about me then just have the balls to say it and we’ll wish each other well and go our separate ways. But at least be man enough to—”

  “Shut up!” he barked.

  “You shut up!” She drew back and hit him in the jaw.

  Wyatt grabbed her fist as she started to hit him again. “That’s enough!”

  “Let go of me!” she shouted and tried to free her hand. But he would not release her. In fact, he grabbed her other hand and held both of them immobile.