Squirrel man landed on the same branch the lead assassin had perched on. The moment his toenails dug into the branch, he must have smelled death, because he started to turn. Rubin was on him before that could happen. Once again, his tremendous strength and his own speed prevailed. He snapped the assassin’s neck without giving him time to put up a fight.
This man seemed far less able to fight, too winded. Rubin didn’t take the time to examine him, not even psychically, but he was certain if he did, he would find that this was one of the men considered “flawed” and expendable. He hoped Jonquille wasn’t considered expendable. He had to get to her as fast as possible. He did take time to check the rifle the assassin was carrying. It was loaded with darts, not bullets.
11
Luther Gunthrie’s home hadn’t changed since he’d first found old used sheets of corrugated metal and carried them, one by one, over miles of trail, walking with each sheet over his head to bring it to the chosen spot where he’d decided to build his house. He was tenacious when he wanted something, and he loved the hidden piece of paradise he called his. He built the cabin with his own two hands. He built his outhouse next and then his outdoor shower.
He developed a spring that ran all year round to meet his water needs. There was plenty of fish. He could hunt or trap. He did have a bicycle for two once he married. His bride, Lotty, had been the love of his life. The two would pedal to the grocery store on the bike. You never saw one without the other. Luther always stayed close to his Lotty. They did everything together.
The trail leading to the rugged holler that went back to his home was so overgrown a person wouldn’t recognize that it had ever been an actual path at one time. Gunthrie preferred it that way. Since his beloved Lotty had gone, he stayed more and more to himself and discouraged visitors, particularly the official kind that he believed came looking for his still.
One had to trek a long way from the main trail to find the entrance to the holler, and then it was another mile or so in before you came across his cabin. The building was nearly hidden among the trees and overgrown grasses and bush. One would never know that just another forty feet behind the building was the most magnificent clearing surrounded on all sides by woods. The meadow was gorgeous and Lotty had loved it. Luther had transplanted every kind of wildflower they found in the woods that she fell in love with, into the meadow, just for her.
She had a garden there that he had built a fence around to protect from the deer. He claimed he thought it silly, but she loved it, so she got it. Whatever Lotty wanted, she got, and in return, she spoiled Luther as best she could. She painstakingly patched every hole in his clothing and mended every sock. She bartered for skins so she could make him shoes and vests and jackets. She knitted blankets and crocheted lacy curtains.
Their little cabin was cozy and had little feminine touches meant to give Luther a sense of being cared for. There wasn’t a time when he came home, even if he’d been gone for a while, that there wasn’t a cooking pot on the fire. She massaged his feet for him, especially in the winter when he went out hunting, and warmed his hands the moment he came in. Lotty had been as devoted to Luther as he was to her.
Early on, when Rubin first came back home to visit, checking up on the couple, bringing them rabbits to put in the stewpot, Luther had yarn stretched between his hands while she knitted him a sweater. He glared at Rubin, daring him to say something, but Rubin took notice that a man should treat his woman good that way. Lotty always seemed happy. Rubin liked Gunthrie a lot, in spite of the man being a bit rascally at times.
Diego and Rubin stayed above the homestead, studying every inch of it, looking for signs of life. There weren’t any high ridges to get over it, so they both had chosen one of the taller trees. Still, they needed a broader scope than what they were seeing. Both were tired. They’d been too long without sleep, but after running all night, they’d definitely gotten to the meadow before the soldiers who had taken Jonquille prisoner—if they had guessed the destination correctly.
Tired could equal mistakes, and getting Jonquille back was their first priority. That meant no mistakes could be made. The meadow looked as if it hadn’t been touched. The flowers were in bloom. There were no holes or bare spots to indicate that anyone had been digging to try to smooth the meadow to prepare it for a plane to land.
Rubin’s heart sank. Had he guessed wrong? He rubbed his jaw. The stubble there was beginning to get heavier. Each of those hairs was embedded in nerve endings, and those nerve endings helped to identify everything around him. He could find no evidence of the squirrel men. That didn’t mean much. He hadn’t been able to locate them when they had been secreted in the woods waiting to abduct Jonquille.
There’s no sign of Gunthrie in his cabin, Diego said. He’s an early riser. He’d be up, moving around by now.
Rubin was very aware of that. No matter his age, Gunthrie didn’t believe in staying in bed. Even on days when he claimed his bones ached, he said it was better to get up and move around, which was right. Gunthrie chose to sleep on a woven mat on the floor. After Lotty passed away, Gunthrie burned their bed, the one he’d carved for her. He’d hauled the mattress all the way from where the neighboring farm brought it on the back of their truck and left it by the entrance to the holler. He’d burned that mattress as well.
Others might not have understood, but Rubin did. That kind of gut-wrenching loss did things to you. Stayed with you and twisted you up inside. He knew why Gunthrie chose to live out his life alone in the backwoods, barely seeing anyone else. It hurt to lose the people you loved. It hurt to be afraid all the time that you were going to lose more.
Rubin was aware he held on to Diego too tightly, as he did Ezekiel, Mordichai, Malichai and now Jonquille. The squirrel men had made a mistake when they’d taken Jonquille. The healer in him, usually at the forefront, had been pushed far back and the predator was fully unleashed.
Do you think I was wrong? This was the only place they could possibly land a plane. It’s possible they aren’t going to fly her out. Another method of transport?
Diego continued to survey the peaceful scene below. It’s possible, Rubin. We made good time. We know the terrain and they don’t. They were just as tired as we were. They have a large force and believe themselves invincible. They could have camped somewhere for the night and planned to bring her here sometime during the day. That means they’ll send a crew here to get a landing strip ready. They wouldn’t have bothered if they couldn’t acquire her. They wouldn’t want to raise suspicion.
Diego was right. The ground crew had to be close by. Already here. They wouldn’t use Gunthrie’s shack. They’d camp out using high-tech gear. Where would they camp that any locals wouldn’t ever spot them? And would they have spared Gunthrie until they actually needed to kill him? Probably not. He was a loose cannon. He would be too likely to spot them moving around in his part of the woods. At some point they would have to examine the meadow to see how difficult it would be to quickly build a landing strip for a plane.
They’re here, Diego, they’re here somewhere. They came here and they made the decision to kill that old man.
We don’t know that for certain. Diego was cautionary.
If there was one person on earth who knew Rubin, it was Diego. He knew that place inside of him that was deep and wide. Whitney had found it and just expanded it.