Uncertain Justice

He retrieved his backpack, pulled the holster around to his left front, and pulled the pack on without stopping. The two women and Miles walked softly away, leaving the two men to get their friend down the hill by themselves.

"You ladies have a car?" he asked in a low voice.

"Yes." came the reply in an equally low tone from the older woman. She turned her head slightly to give Miles a faint smile. She got a nod and a flicker of a grin from Miles in reply.

"Mom, what are we going to do?" The young woman looked at Miles briefly and then back to her mother. That explained their relationship ... and their close resemblance.

"We're going to get back down to the road and call the police, that's what!" replied the woman firmly. She looked at Miles.

"We'll get there before them, right?" Well away from the three who had accosted them, the woman's low contralto strengthened until she was speaking at a normal volume.

"Oh yeah," replied Miles, "No problem. They'll be quite a while carrying him anywhere. The three stopped talking in favor of greater speed.

When they reached the bottom of the trail, the two women hurried toward a big midnight blue Mercedes sedan. Groping in her jacket pocket, the older woman retrieved a set of keys and thumbed the button on the remote that unlocked all the doors and disarmed the security system at the same time. Wrenching open the front doors, the two women jumped in. Both windows whined down as one of them touched a control.

Thrusting the key into the ignition, the mother started the engine. Miles closed her door for her. He leaned over to peer in the open window, supporting his upper body with both hands as he leaned on the doorframe. She had the car phone in her hand and was ready to punch in the 911 emergency number.

"Get in," she ordered. She was back in her territory ... the commanding tone came naturally.

"No thanks," Miles declined cheerfully. "You two are okay now. There's no way those guys can catch you."

He paused and checked the trail, just to be sure but there was no sign of the three men. He glanced across the highway to the dense forest, wondering how far in that direction he would have to go before working his way back to the east and the ranch.

"We have to report those jerks to the sheriff," complained the woman. She smiled brightly. "Oh! Listen, you aren't in any trouble. We'll make sure of that. Those jerks will be lucky to get out of jail before they're ready for social security." Miles had to smile. She was used to solving difficulties and thought she had this one fixed before it became a problem.

"Well ... you see," he paused while he considered what to tell her. "You see ... I don't really care what happens to those boys. That one will never walk again without a cane. He'll be reminded of what he did wrong every time he takes a step, and I expect he'll carry scars on his face for a long time ... you got him pretty good when you had the chance. I don't know that there's too much more punishment he needs."

"You don't want us to call the sheriff?" she asked incredulously. Miles saw the woman's daughter was leaning toward the driver's side to watch Miles through her mother's window. She was frowning indignantly.

"I don't much care one way or the other, actually," Miles responded slowly. "You do what you have to do and ... I'll do the same, okay?" He hoped the woman would understand. The woman's eyes flicked from one of his eyes to the other as she searched them for an answer.

"I don't understand what the problem is. Those guys attacked us. You were helping us. It's not like you attacked them." She stopped as it struck her that he most certainly had attacked the three men. She hadn't seen him coming but what she had seen was swift, brutal, and merciless. She looked up at the stranger for a moment longer. No trace of the explosive violence she'd witnessed earlier was visible on the man's face. Miles nodded as he saw comprehension dawning on her face.

"I think you begin to see the problem. I don't know who these boys know, ma'am." He refrained from mentioning he didn't know who the two women were either. There hadn't been time for introductions.

"They might have a daddy with enough money or influence to get me arrested. Or maybe some cop gets a wild hair up his ... well, let's say he decides I shouldn't have hit the young man so hard." His expression hardened for a moment, then eased.

"Anyway ... I don't feel like I can take the chance, so ... if you ladies are okay, I think I'll be gettin' along." Miles straightened; his hands moved to adjust the straps and buckles on his backpack and looked across the road for a place to disappear in the tree line. He was surprised to hear a click from the rear of the car. Turning only his head, he watched as the trunk lid rose slowly. He looked back down at the driver.

"Okay," relented the older woman. "I guess we can get along without getting everyone and his brother involved in this. We'll let it go. You're right ... that young man got what he deserved and there's not too much more we can do to him."

There was an incensed yelp from the passenger seat. Words tumbled over themselves as the young woman sitting there gave an opinion on whether something more might be due the would-be rapist. A rusty razor blade and the young man's genitals played prominent parts in her plan. Her mother patted her hand before the older woman turned back to Miles.

"But I am not going to leave you out here in the middle of nowhere with those men still around," she continued tartly. "Throw that stuff in the trunk and we'll take you anywhere you want."

At first the woman didn't notice the little frown that creased Miles' forehead while he mulled over what the woman proposed. His first concern was to wonder whether it was smart to be confined in the automobile when he could be in the open forest putting space between himself and the incident. When she did see the expression on his face, she misinterpreted it. Her tone softened.

"I'm sorry. We owe you a lot ... far more than we can ever repay," she coaxed. "Like you said, you shouldn't have to answer a lot of questions about what happened. But if you stay, that's exactly what you may have to do." She looked around the parking lot. "Are any of these cars yours?" she asked.

When Miles shook his head, older woman nodded. He'd confirmed what she already thought.

"So your best bet is to get as far away as you can get from here, right? Won't you please get in and let us drive you somewhere a long way off where they won't find you." What she said made sense. The corners of Miles' lips twitched in a brief smile and he nodded his agreement.

"Alright, you talked me into it," he said. He went to the back of the car and dropped his backpack in the spacious trunk. Debating with himself for a moment, he unbuckled the gun belt and tossed it in too.

The trunk lid hid most of Miles' body from the driver, but not all. He wasn't aware the gap above the rear seat and the bottom of the lid formed a slit through which the driver could see a little of what he was doing in the rearview mirror.

She saw his hand hesitate as it touched the buckle to the gun belt. She was glad the hesitation was slight and gladder still the decision was to remove it. She wasn't going to make an issue of it, but she didn't really want the gun inside the passenger cabin.

Nothing good could come of firing weapons with her only daughter in the car and somehow ... completely without any evidence one way or the other ... she didn't doubt the stranger would use the weapon if he thought he had to.

Seeing he was finished, she pressed the stud that brought the trunk lid down. Miles watched the automatic mechanism lower itself until locked firmly in place. He walked to the passenger side of the car and got in the back seat.

The woman put the car in gear and started for main road before Miles got his seatbelt fastened. They exited the parking lot and drove north. The 5.8-liter engine purred as they accelerated quickly up the hill.

§

He'd thought to accept a ride with them in whatever direction they were going, getting out when he felt the distance from the scene of the attack on the women was appropriate. Instead, he found himself enjoying the trip too much to cut it short. Neither woman seemed particularly shaken by their experience--both were more angered than anything else, particularly the young one.

Her name was Stephanie Waters, he learned. She had recently graduated from Harvard with a business degree in her pocket and she was taking the summer off before going to work in 'the business'. What that was didn't get defined further. He assumed an operation described that way meant a family business of some kind.

Finishing high school at seventeen, she'd taken only three years to get the normal four-year degree college degree. Miles was suitably impressed and told her so. He withdrew his offer to buy her a drink when he found out she still had five months to go to her twenty-first birthday. Smiling prettily, she accepted a rain check.

Her mother was Linda, a widow of five years who still wore the wedding band her husband had pressed on her finger twenty-two years ago. Linda drove with the assurance of a professional racecar driver, putting the big car through turns much faster than Miles would have driven on mountain roads he didn't know intimately. After he saw the firmness of her control, he relaxed to enjoy the ride. He tightened his seatbelt though.

He introduced himself, giving the women his real name. Neither woman reacted to his name ... Texas and even southern Colorado were a long way off.

Miles let the two women do the majority of the talking, satisfied with listening to them as they discussed the attack and results. They were both soon in agreement the incident was best left as it lay, though at heart Stephanie really wanted something more. Her mother partially agreed, regretted they couldn't follow through with a couple of Stephanie's innovative plans, and deftly maneuvering Stephanie into a better frame of mind as they drove.

An hour and a half later when the car turned off onto a wide side road, Miles wasn't able to see the road sign. Since the direction was still going away from the scene of the confrontation, it was fine. When Linda abruptly slowed before a tall metal gate, he straightened on the cushioned seat and prepared to get out, belatedly wondering just where he was.

The gate swung open when Linda pushed a button on the console and they drove quickly through. He opened his mouth to begin an objection, thinking to get out and hike further north into the mountains, but he never got the chance.

"We're home," announced Linda. "And it'll be time for dinner soon. Meatloaf good enough for you, Miles?" They stopped in front of a big, solid looking log cabin a mile and more off the paved road. The heavy logs helped the house blend into a forest covering the mountainside behind the property. The roofed porch that spread across the entire front of the building hinted the occupants spent a lot of time outside.

"Uh ... well, sure, Linda but I...."

"Good, there's a bunch left over from Tuesday night." Almost to herself she added the information they could bake some potatoes and there should be plenty of fresh green beans they could cook. She wondered aloud if there was any fresh bread in the pantry. Stephanie assured her there were a couple loaves left over from Saturday's baking.

Somewhere in the conversation, Miles lost his chance to separate from the women and make his way into the woods. Disconcerted at first, he quickly got used to the mother and daughter making plans that included him. They were willing to let him choose the desert. He chose ice cream and cherry pie. They let him get away with the over indulgence.

After dinner, they watched a spectacular sunset from the deck on the south side of the house and enjoyed a brandy in the spacious Jacuzzi--a spare swimsuit having been brought forth for Miles. The trio came inside when it got too cool for comfort and retired to the comfortable sitting room. Stephanie disappeared after a while without Miles being aware she'd left. He found Linda to be by far the most interesting woman he'd ever met.

She'd been married when she was sixteen and her husband Greg was seventeen, he learned. Neither had been interested in anyone else since they'd met in junior high. Stephanie had been born a year after they were married and they'd moved in with Greg's parents. A month after her birth, Stephanie's father graduated from the high school that he'd returned to finish and he'd immediately gone to work for his father's logging company.

Linda waited until the baby was three to go back to school and complete her high school degree. Later, she'd taken a job in her father-in-law's office as a secretary, becoming the office manager when the incumbent retired. She went to night school, coming away with a diploma in financial management. A Masters degree followed a few years later. When Greg assumed control of the company, Linda was his executive assistant and unofficial partner, involved in all aspects of the business.

Heiress to the lumber company her husband's father had put together and the trucking firm her husband had added to the family business, she ran both organizations with the same determination and, Miles gathered, a sprinkling of the same ruthlessness her husband had.

A nasty little turf war with a national trucking company had been settled only after the larger firm had been convinced rough tactics weren't going to get them anywhere. A union organizer from the upper Midwest reached a similar conclusion when Linda's independent loggers and drivers began to openly carry weapons in their trucks. After some delicate probing, Miles decided probably only a few bones had been broken in the confrontations.

Since her husband's death, the business had expanded three-fold after some shrewd business decisions in which she and the general manager, a Mr. Paul King, had collaborated. The trucking company was expanding and making a name for itself in the inter-mountain region from Montana south to New Mexico.

But for all of that, the central headquarters staff remained close knit. Paul's wife and children, in fact, were considered extended members of Linda's own family. Though not an official partner in the business, he received twenty percent of the profit as his salary. Miles thought he wouldn't mind meeting the man after hearing Linda's glowing description. On the other hand, it bothered him a tiny bit that Paul meant so much to Linda.

In the wee hours of the morning, Linda showed him to a guest room. He slept soundly but rose early to get one of Zeb's razors out of his pack and shave off three days growth of whiskers. It had come up that Linda didn't particularly care for bearded men.

A week later, Linda drove him back to the defunct ranch she didn't know Miles owned. Four days after she dropped him off, he topped the long hill behind the big log house and raced the horses down behind Linda's mountain hideaway.

Miles turned his horses into a big corral where they were greeted by the half-dozen riding horses Linda kept there. He dropped the packs in a corner of the barn and forked enough hay down from the loft to feed all ten animals. Then he strolled into the house for a reunion with the two women.

§

Stephanie Waters got over the brutality in a few days. She hidden most of her fears, but she'd seen the look in the mean eyes of her attacker and knew exactly what he'd had in mind. The first couple of nights, it had been hard for her to sleep without a nightmare interrupting her rest sometime in the night. But the bad dreams faded quickly.

She'd grown up with hard-bitten men who worked for her father and later for her mother. From them, she'd learned life wasn't always rosy and if you wanted to stay sane, you got over the rough spots as quickly and as best you could. Besides, that particular hooligan had suffered far more than he would have had the legal system gotten hold of him.

She watched her mother in amazement the first few days after Miles got back from retrieving his string of packhorses. She'd not seen her mother as comfortable with a man since her father died. Ever since Stephanie's father died of the cancer, her mother had been all about business with only an occasional male relative who acted as an escort for certain necessary social events.

Miles was ill at ease with nothing to do and he found things to do around the property. Two weeks into his stay, he volunteered to take care of the truckload of firewood that had been summarily dropped off the day before and Stephanie surprised her mother gazing out the kitchen window.

Easing her way to another window, Stephanie saw Miles working hard to chop the logs into usable sizes. Her face impassive, Linda was watching every move the man made. When Miles disappeared behind the woodshed, she resumed peeling the potato she'd been holding motionless. An introspective look settled over Linda's features.

Tiptoeing out of the kitchen, Stephanie smiled to herself.

Stephanie wasn't too shocked when Linda delayed returning to their townhouse and the company headquarters in Denver, saying Paul was doing a fine job running things and she deserved a longer vacation. Stephanie was amazed at the way Miles was able to engage her mother in bantering conversations, bringing out aspects of her mother's personality Stephanie hadn't been aware of.

She'd watched in awe as they washed and dried the dishes one evening. Miles teased and Linda laughed. Tossing back quick replies to bantering comments Miles made, Linda gave as good as she got.

She elbowed Miles in the ribs when he got in the way and he feigned being knocked sideways into the counter. He countered by slipping around behind her to jab her gently in the ribs. Linda was incredibly ticklish and nearly collapsed in the floor at his touch. Suds and water splashed everywhere.

All of this was so unlike the dignified, serious-minded mother Stephanie had grown accustomed to. So Stephanie settled in to watch the two older adults as they groped their way toward something she was certain neither was aware was coming.

Old folks could be so dense at times, she decided. Her mother hadn't been this happy since her father died. He'd suffered through years of chemo and radiation therapy before finally succumbing and there had been a time after his death when Stephanie had been afraid her mother wouldn't recover either.

She thought what was happening was great. A month and a half after the incident on the trail, she caught Miles coming out of her mother's bedroom and laughed at the embarrassed expression on his face.

When the couple came to the breakfast table--embarrassed and uncertain--wanting to explain, she laughed again. She hugged her mother and Miles, telling them she didn't understand how it had taken this long for them to get together. They'd both stared at her, astounded she'd detected something they'd thought well hidden.

With the little drama in the log house complete, Stephanie left for a seminar in advanced resource management in Seattle. The two were left to explore their relationship in privacy, though Stephanie called almost daily to talk to her mother. By mid-summer, she was talked with either Linda or Miles, depending on who was free at the moment and answered the phone.

Miles told Linda about his legal problems soon after they became lovers, declining to sugarcoat anything. It was a somber, all-day process before she came to terms with all the details. A realist, by nightfall she was indignant at the way Miles had been pushed into being a fugitive. He pointed out that, while he'd been innocent of the original charge, he'd certainly done some things afterward for which he could be found guilty. She'd stubbornly maintained he would never have done any of them but for the initial false prosecution. There was no resolution to that problem.