The Hero (Thunder Point #3)

Author: Robyn Carr

“No!” she said hotly. “Please, no! If you could just give me a lift to the highway.”

He held up a callused hand. “Shh,” he said. “Devon, I know you’re from there. I don’t know why and you don’t have to tell me, but it’s pretty clear you needed to be out of the place if you’d drag your kid out in the dark of night and walk over a mountain.” He frowned. “She is your kid, ain’t she?”

“Of course!” She looked down. “I got a ride over the mountain. I should just get going....”

The child looked like her mother. Rawley was just checking. “Just sit. I can help you out here. You and the little one would be safe while you figure things out. You don’t have to be out on the highway, takin’ your chances.”

She just looked at him with those big blue eyes, her peachy lips parted. Her daughter continued to move Frosted Flakes around in her bowl, apparently oblivious to the conversation. “Why?” she whispered.

“I told you why. You need details? There was this war you’re too young to even know about and I came home a mess and no one wanted any part of me, of any of us. A lot of us wandered, just trying to forget or get the noise in our heads to stop. We had the VA but folks didn’t even know how to help Vietnam vets. Like I said, I took a lot of charity. I worked some here and there, slept on the street some, helped out at the VA some. Now—I got a house and a job. That’s my story. You keep yours till you feel safe. But, girl—we’re gonna have to make some changes ’cause I knew where you came from the second I seen you walkin’ down the road.”

Her eyes got pretty round at that, but she remained mute.

“The overalls, the braid... Once Cooper—the boss—gets in here and decides to start work for the day, I’ll take you somewhere to get clothes that don’t just holler commune-for-Christ or whatever that is you come from.”

“The Fellowship,” she reminded him quietly.

“And, if you are trying to keep a low profile around here it wouldn’t hurt to cut off that braid or something. You think that’s a good idea?”

She chewed her lip a little bit, thinking this over. When she did speak she said, “I know about Vietnam.”

“Be glad you don’t remember it.”

Thinking again she said, “Maybe I’m not far enough away. From the compound.”

“You think some of them might come lookin’ for you?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, not really. They’re not bad people. But...”

Rawley let that hang a minute. “But?” he prompted.

“They didn’t want me to leave. And I did anyway. And we’re not going back,” she added vehemently.

He cleared his throat. “Then we play it safe. If you see any of ’em snoopin’ around, you better sound the alarm. I’ve been in this town almost every day for over four years and no one from that place ever came here. My house is in Elmore, a thirty-minute drive from here and I ain’t never seen any of ’em there, either. I guess there’s a chance some folks from around here have been to that produce stand, or what you call the compound, so I reckon getting yourself a new look makes sense. There’s just one thing you’re gonna have to do to make it work.”

“What’s that, Mr. Goode?”

She remembered his name. Sharp for someone who’d been up all night and was probably worn to a nub.

“Gonna have to trust a stranger, miss. That’s what.”

Again she dropped her gaze. “Last time I did that...”

“I can figure that much out without the whole story,” he said. “I thought that place was safe. A refuge. Bent on charity and good works. But if it was a good and decent place, you’d have left in daylight with money in your pocket. I’m old and I’m jaded but I ain’t stupid.”

“For a while, it was a refuge and it saved me. For a while.”

“Here’s what we do, miss. We get you some Walmart clothes and I’ll take you and the little miss here to my house. You’ll have a safe and warm place to lay your head. There’s food in the fridge. You might wanna pretend to be kin—like my second cousin’s daughter. I didn’t have no direct family.”

Devon actually smiled at that. “Neither did I, Mr. Goode.”

“Might wanna call me Rawley for good measure.”

“Rawley,” she said. “I’m not sure...”

“Devon, you’re stuck with trusting strangers right now. It ain’t safer thumbing rides on the highway, I guaran-damn-tee. This’ll at least give you time to think and be safe while you’re doing it.”

Spencer Lawson was new to Thunder Point. He’d taken the job of Athletic Director and coach at the local high school and he and his ten-year-old son were living in Cooper’s fifth wheel while looking around for a place to rent. He had to admit, while it was a little tight on space, especially in the bathroom, it was not only convenient but it was a pleasure to wake up every day and see the bay. He didn’t have much of a kitchen in the RV, but then he wasn’t much of a cook. Besides, right next door, Cooper had the equivalent of two kitchens and a nice big outdoor gas grill.

Spencer had been up for a while. With coffee still in his cup he decided to wander next door to Cooper’s place. He left Austin, sprawled crossways, asleep in the big bed. They’d been sharing a bedroom since moving into Cooper’s RV but sleeping with Austin was like sleeping with the entire fourth grade. Most nights Spencer escaped to the sofa in the living room. As he walked across the deck toward the open doors of the bar, he heard voices...a woman’s voice as she said, “No! Please, no!”

And he stopped. He heard Rawley shush her and say, “Devon, I know where you’re from. You don’t have to give me details and I don’t have to know why...”

Spencer saw Cooper and Sarah out on their boards, skimming across the bay smoothly, the movement of their paddles synchronized. Quietly he took a chair outside the opened doors, shamelessly eavesdropping on the conversation. In five minutes, he had the story—this was a young woman with a child who had run away from some kind of commune or religious order. And Rawley was not only going to help her, but he would help her keep it secret. While he was dying to walk into the bar and get a look at this young runaway, he didn’t want them to stop talking.

A few minutes later, Sarah and Cooper were coming in off the water. They stowed their boards against the dock and untied the dog from it. Hamlet made a beeline for the deck. This was Spencer’s cue. He stood and waited for them. First he greeted Hamlet and gave him a vigorous head and ear massage. “Hey, old boy! How’s it going, Ham?” Sarah and Cooper strolled leisurely up the stairs to the deck.

“What’s going on?” Cooper asked Spencer.

Spencer lifted his cup. “I’m out of coffee.”

“You’re always out of something,” Cooper said. “Come on in, Rawley can hook you up. I’m just guessing, but I bet you want breakfast, too.”

“I might, yeah.”

“Where’s the kid?”

“Sprawled across the bed. Snoring.”

Cooper chuckled.

Ham was waiting anxiously, tail wagging like mad, hoping he’d get a treat. The three of them—and Ham—all walked into the bar together. Right away they noticed the young woman with a long braid and a small child sitting at the counter. Rawley looked up from behind the bar and the little girl broke into a huge grin, pointed and said, “Mama! Pony in the house!”

The woman laughed, putting a hand up to her mouth. Her blue eyes twinkled.

Ham went to the child immediately. He was excellent with kids.

“Just a dog, kiddo,” Cooper said. “Want to give him his cookie? Look out, though. He’s got a real slobbery mouth but he never nips.” He fished a huge dog biscuit out of the jar on the bar and let the little girl hold it out toward Ham. She held it in a flat hand, as if feeding a horse. Then Cooper looked at the young woman and said, “Hi. I’m Cooper. This is my fiancée, Sarah. And this is my friend, Spencer.”

“This here’s my cousin’s daughter, Coop,” Rawley said. “Well, second cousin, maybe even removed. Devon. Visiting.”

Cooper tilted his head and queried with his eyes. “Devon...?”

But Rawley didn’t answer. He didn’t answer because he didn’t know Devon’s last name. Finally Devon said, “McAllister. And this is my daughter, Mercy.”

“Pleasure. Rawley, you should’ve mentioned you had company coming. You could have taken the day off.”

“It was a last-minute thing but, if you can spare me, I’d like to show her around a little bit. They might be tired from traveling, too, and I can leave ’em at home and come back...”

“Take the day off if you want it, Rawley. I can handle the shop. Landon will show up to help out when he gets his lazy butt out of bed. And I’ve always got Spencer...”

“You okay with that?” Rawley asked.

Spencer looked at this duo—mother and child. She was plain as a pancake, and yet she was beautiful. She looked very young—early twenties? She was vulnerable, that was instantly obvious. He immediately wondered how she’d gotten trapped in a commune that wouldn’t let her leave. He had this sudden urge to step in, to offer advice or shelter or something.

“Sure,” Cooper said. “If you need more time, just let me know so I can make arrangements. How long are you staying?”

Again, the young woman didn’t respond but Rawley said, “That’s up in the air. I told her she can stay for a few days or weeks—it ain’t like she’ll be in my way. If you’re sure you don’t mind, we’ll hit the road, then. You ready?” Rawley asked her.

“Thanks. Nice meeting you all.”

And the three of them moved slowly out the back door, climbed into Rawley’s truck and the engine roared to life. It was two minutes before the truck was traveling up the road to the highway.

Then Cooper looked at Sarah and Spencer. “Rawley doesn’t have any family.”

“Well, second cousin, removed...” Sarah said.

“With no warning they’re coming?” Spencer asked. “Nah, they’re not family. I’d bet my last dollar on that.” For some reason he couldn’t quite explain, Spencer didn’t tell them about the conversation he had overheard between Rawley and Devon.

“It does seem strange,” Cooper agreed. “Rawley’s a little odd, but he’s not, you know...?”

“A kidnapper? A serial killer?” Sarah offered.

“More likely he found ’em hitching or panhandling. People don’t know this about Rawley, but he’s generous. Softhearted. He doesn’t like to let on that he has a helpful nature. He’s on the gruff and silent side, but he’d give anyone the shirt off his back. When we went through all Ben’s things after he died, Rawley took the old clothes to the VA, but he washed ’em first. Bags full of ’em. He has a generous nature—he gives a lot. I’m not so much worried about that woman and her little girl as I am about Rawley. I hope they don’t fleece him.”

“Maybe you should talk to him,” Spencer suggested. “What if that’s what happened? What if she’s desperate and takes advantage of him?”

“Well, I could try,” Cooper said. “But it might be hard getting anything out of him. That Rawley...he takes pride in saying as little as possible.”

“That girl looks about fifteen,” Spencer said, frowning. “He must’ve found them in trouble somewhere.” He glanced toward the dishes on the bar. “He fed them.”