Page 19 of Roughstock
“Whatever it is, you need to be careful. You know they’re a warning of bad things to come, and if anything happens to you . . .” she said as tears flooded her eyes.
I pulled her into a bruising hug and whispered, “Nothing’s going to happen to me, and I promise, I’ll be careful.”
She didn’t seem convinced when she released me from the hug, and when she linked her fingers with mine as we walked down the stairs, I felt the connection—the connection with my family, my ancestors, and my parents. I felt my proud family lineage reenforcing my resolve to find out what happened to Trent’s father.
Despite telling them they didn’t have to get out in the cold, Granny and Jackie stood outside to watch me drive away. I was always sad to leave them, but today seemed so much . . . more. Trying to push the gloomy feeling away, I dialed Trent’s number and listened as the ringing filled the SUV.
“Hey, beautiful. Are you on your way home?” he asked, and I smiled as I responded.
“I just left Granny’s. I’m stopping to fill up at Quincey’s, then I’ll be on the way back.”
“You know, I can always go back up with you and maybe they’ll speak with me if you’re there too,” he offered, and I knew he was apprehensive about me being involved.
What he failed to understand was that I was already involved. I got involved when he and I became a couple, when I stood by his side as he took the Presidency of the Bastards, and when we buried his father. Nitro was a good man who loved me like my own father did, and losing him changed us all. I wanted to know who was responsible so Trent and the brothers could get the revenge they deserved.
“I promise I’ll be discreet when I speak with him. It’s not like I’m going to interrogate him.”
“I just . . . be careful,” he said then added, “I love you.”
“I love you more. I’ll send a text when I’m leaving the store. Please, don’t worry,” I tried to encourage, but the words sounded flat to my ears.
We disconnected the call, and I drove the familiar route out of Eagle’s Butte, headed back to Rapid. Quincey’s was about thirty minutes away, but everyone stopped there on their way off the reservation. It was a good place to gas up, use the restroom, grab snacks, and get prepared for the hours of nothing that filled the drive home.
Pulling up, I parked the car at the gas pumps and got out to fill it up. The cold wind cut through my clothes, and I opened the passenger’s door and grabbed my coat and wallet. The pump turned off and I walked back and removed the nozzle. After locking the vehicle, I walked across the parking lot and entered the store.
The older man behind the counter lifted his head from his crossword puzzle book and smiled at me before returning to his next word clue. I made myself a large cup of coffee, grabbed a few snacks for the drive, and walked up to the counter. Placing everything down, I watched as he smiled and wrote something in his book before addressing me.
“Did you find everything you need?” he asked as he began to ring up items.
“I did, thank you. Can you add the gas outside also?” He nodded, and I took that as my opening. “My granny is Aiyana Redstone and she said it was okay for me to stop by.”
Mr. Quincey smiled brightly and said, “You must be Cheyenne. Your granny said you’d be by today. What can I do for you?”
“I know this is probably a long shot, but my father-in-law used to come up here to visit friends and, well, he passed away a few years ago. I wanted to reach out to his friends, but I don’t know where to start.”
“What was his name?” the man asked as he placed my items into a bag and pushed my coffee closer to me.
“His name was Jeremiah, but everyone called him Nitro,” I explained, and he gave a curt nod before motioning his head outside.
I turned to leave, and he walked out from behind the counter and followed me. Not knowing if I should be concerned that he was telling me to leave, or if he was going to hurt me, I was defensive when he raised his hand.
“I knew Nitro. He was a good man, and I’m very sorry for your loss. But he didn’t have any friends up here on the reservation, besides your granny and your uncle, from what I remember him saying.” He looked around, and although there wasn’t anyone else out this far so early on a Saturday, he kept his voice low as he spoke. “If you’re wondering why he came up here, I don’t know besides what he told me.”
I stepped slightly closer to him and lowered my voice as I asked, “What did he tell you about why he was here?”
“I don’t know if he would want me saying anything, but he’s not here, so I guess it can’t hurt.”
I thought he was going to say he had a girlfriend, maybe a gambling problem, but what he said next chilled me to the bone and no amount of heat or time was going to thaw me from the fear at his statement.
“He was coming up to look for the missing girls.”
“Missing girls?” I asked, and just as he went to open his mouth, a large pickup pulled into the lot and up to the pump next to me.
He cut his eyes to me and suddenly changed the subject. “So, you’re gonna want to stay on this road for at least thirty miles before turning onto seventy-three. That will take you where you want to go.”
Raising my voice, I replied, “Thank you for the directions and the coffee.”
“Drive safe, miss.”
