It's time for another look at the inside of one of my books. Below is a look into one of my most popular stories, Arizona Redemption.
Arizona Redemption
Copyright (c) 2011 by SQ Eads
Victoria
Stilman skillfully steered the shiny, new SUV around yet another
curve. She shifted into a lower gear as the grade of the narrow,
mountainous road continued its steep decline. The thunderous roar of
an oncoming truck overpowered the heavy pounding of quarter-sized
raindrops against the windshield.
"Oh,
Tori, look. It's gorgeous." Tori's older sister, Bonnie, bounced
and twisted like a three-year-old, exhibiting the most excitement
she'd shown on the entire trip.
"Bonnie,
I can't look now." Her curt exclamation was in direct contrast
to Bonnie's soft, awed tones, and her harsh words slipped from her
mouth in perfect sync with the right-hand tires dropping off the
scallop-edged pavement. Tori white-knuckled the steering wheel,
gritting her teeth at the clunk and ping of rocks flying up against
the undercarriage.
Please, please don't chip the paint.
Mumbling a few derogatory words about drivers who insisted on taking
their half out of the middle, she carefully pulled back onto the
road. Who
says all the crazy drivers are in California? Someone shipped the
worst of the worst to this little,
nothing
town in Arizona. I'd like to run them off this sorry excuse for a
road.
As
if determined to prove her criticism unjust, the road widened, its
surface now glassy- smooth and even. It continued to curve more
gently, winding through a canyon littered with houses of every size,
shape and color imaginable.
Tori
tapped the brakes of the heavy vehicle and traded her grimace for a
grin as Bonnie's head swung from right to left – her pointer finger
tracking her gaze – the occasional ooh and ah, accompaniment to her
animation.
The
buildings appeared haphazardly stacked one upon the other, reminding
her of a child’s set of building blocks. Some looked as if they'd
been chiseled from the gray stone itself, while others clung to
patches of red dirt. Narrow, curving roads zigzagged and intersected,
connecting the hodgepodge of buildings like the fancy stitching on a
crazy quilt. Steps of stone and stairs of weathered wood added
further texture to the living tapestry.
"Tori?
I'm praying we can stay here. It feels...nice." Bonnie's
breathless words stabbed Tori like a knife blade.
“Me,
too, Tori,” came the raspy comment from nine-year-old Carla in the
back seat. A deep, wracking cough followed the brief statement.
Fingers
of fear traced a path up Tori’s spine – again. Carla’s cough
wasn’t improving and they had spent the last of their money on an
emergency room visit and prescription medicine.
So much for doctors and their guarantees. Bunch of quacks.
Trying
not to sound as grumpy as she felt, she struggled to interject a note
of gaiety in her voice. “Hey, you two, we’ve just hit town. We
don’t even know what the place is like, or if I'll be able to find
work.”
“Okay,
Tori…whatever you think. But I'll keep praying,” said Bonnie.
Tori
cringed. Bonnie never argued anymore, never insisted on her way,
hardly ever really expressed an opinion. Tori almost wished she
would. The two of them used to bicker. Bonnie, the oldest, wanted to
be the boss, and Tori, the rebel, refused to take orders from anyone.
However, since Bonnie had been assaulted, she'd withdrawn. She was
like a piece of delicate crystal ready to shatter at the first hint
of rough handling.
Tori
tried to be gentle, but it was difficult. She was in charge now,
making every decision, large and small, and surprise, surprise –
she didn't find it as satisfying as she once thought it would be. The
control she once coveted hung around her neck like a millstone. What
she wouldn't give for just a wee bit of sass from her too-fragile,
older sister.
Tori
hated the fear and uncertainty that permeated her sister's voice. She
hated herself for her part in thrusting more hurt and insecurity into
the life of one who'd worn the cloak of those torments far too long.
Bonnie deserved happiness, peace and security. And poor Carla. That
little scrap of humanity didn’t even know what those words meant.
Tori
determined anew to provide her sister and her ward with joy and hope,
regardless of the cost to herself. Yeah,
you did a great job the last time you tried to fix everything. That's
why you're here. Why you're on the run.
Desperate
to stop the piercing darts of accusation from penetrating the target
around her heart, Tori eased to the curb and shut off the engine.
“The downpour has lessened. Maybe we can stretch our legs.”
She
infused her voice with all the confidence at her disposal as Bonnie
and Carla fished under the seats for the shoes they’d kicked off
after their last stop. “We'll make it. We'll find a new life and be
happy. I promise. We are setting out on a great adventure."
She
reached for her sister's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Looking
into Bonnie's blue eyes filled with trust, Tori found it hard to
believe that the petite blond facing her was three years older than
her own twenty-eight years. We're
not really old – not exactly spring chicks either. The question
is...what do we have to show for the years we've lived? If we were
vehicles, they'd describe us as showing too much wear and tear,
having been driven too hard, and involved in a few too many fender
benders. So,if fate will give us a break this time, we'll prove we've
still got plenty of good miles left in us.
The
gentle rain stopped completely, like a giant hand turned off a
faucet. They climbed from the vivid, canary-yellow Toyota Sequoia
that Carla had dubbed Big Bird. As Tori carefully inspected its shiny
finish for any damage, Bonnie and Carla found a shady refuge from the
bright, May sun that burst through the fluffy, white clouds. Tori had
never seen anything like it – drenching rain one minute and
blinding sun the next. In San Diego the heat and moisture simply
mixed together.
One
final pass around the SUV and Tori was satisfied that the vehicle –
their only asset – had sustained no chips or dents. She tugged her
Arizona Diamondback baseball cap further down her forehead and leaned
against the concrete wall next to Bonnie. They stood for several
minutes in silence, taking in the three-dimensional tapestry before
them. The mountain community was awash with color. Soft, earth tones
were pierced and broken by lances and blobs of pastel color. Then a
vivid splash of red, blue or green – even purple – that stood out
in sharp contrast, would grab the eye.
“What
do you think, Bonnie? Is this an artist’s dream or his worst
nightmare?” Tori laughed.
“I
like that lavender one.” Carla coughed. She couldn't string ten
words together without falling victim to chest-rattling coughs. The
little blond pointed out a small house tucked amongst several green
trees. “It reminds me of an Easter egg.” (cough)
Tori’s
companions continued to point out their “favorites.” Their soft
conversation, the turquoise sky studded with white, fluffy clouds and
the moist, warm air finally penetrated the tension holding Tori's
body in its grip. Like gentle fingers untangling a skein of yarn, the
knots of anger, guilt, fear, uncertainty and jaw-clenching
determination slowly unraveled, leaving a thread of peace tickling
her heart and mind. She desperately grasped at the tiny tendril of
tranquility, aching for it to take hold and entwine her whole being
in its protective net. It's
been so long. Peace and tranquility haven't even been in my
dictionary since – since forever. And certainly since I decided I
could FIX everything so life would be great. Once I scratched my name
on that piece of paper and said “I do!” things went straight to
h--oops--downhill.
She'd promised Bonnie she'd clean up her language – even in her
thoughts.
Memories
swamped her. Tears welled in her tired eyes, but with a determined
effort she held back the overflow. I
did care about you, Ricky, maybe not like I should have, but…I'm
sorry. Probably, the only halfway smart thing I’ve done lately was
to sneak out of the hospital, load Bonnie, Carla and all our meager
possessions into the car and head east. Sucking
in a deep breath, Tori reminded herself to stop thinking about the
past, and concentrate on the future.
She
swung her gaze to the left, skimming the hilltop where a white puff
of cloud wrapped itself around a pale pink house as if to soothe and
protect it from harm. Perhaps this small mountain town, uniquely
beautiful, would provide sanctuary for her and her family. It was her
job to care for Bonnie and Carla. Perhaps here they would find
healing and rest – maybe even hope for the future.
****
“M
& M Construction.” Lance Manning jerked the phone from his head
as loud laughter crackled over the line and assaulted his eardrums
like a gorilla playing the tympani.
“I
thought maybe Kate had come down with the croup when I heard that
deep voice of yours.”
“Yeah,
right.” Lance chuckled. He dropped the receiver into place and
switched on the speaker. It was easier on one’s hearing when
talking to Chief of Police, Ron Kerwood. Too much time spent at the
practice range without proper protective devices had significantly
lessened Ron’s hearing. Hence, he assumed everyone in the world was
half deaf, and he spoke at a glass-shattering volume.
Lance
went back to doodling on the back of an old invoice. Just as a
slashed “Z” had been the signature for the appearance of the
legendary Zorro, so cartoons and caricatures scribbled on any blank
surface were a sure sign that Lance had been there.
He
felt rather ridiculous, sitting in the empty office yelling at the
telephone but better that than to end up with damaged eardrums. “Kate
had to take Shelly to the doctor for her two-year-old check-up.
Logan’s out loading sand. So, good old Uncle Lance gets to play
secretary.”
Another
laugh thundered through the receiver and reverberated around the
room.
Picturing
his childhood friend in his customary pose – that of defying
gravity by tilting his chair to a forty-five degree angle – Lance
unconsciously sketched a giant of a man, his muscular bulk spilling
forth over a tiny chair.
“Hey,
how’s the new chair holding up?” asked Lance. He continued to
fill in details in his drawing as he listened to Ron’s commentary
on the super-sturdy office chair he’d recently received from the
police department for fifteen years of dedicated service.
Lance's
fingers flew and a shiny star took shape on the massive chest of his
caricature. Then with a flourish, several bold black lines around the
man's middle grew into a gun belt with an over-sized pistol,
handcuffs, and various other paraphernalia. Lance cocked his head and
added a few extra touches to his cartoon character.
“So,
what’s going down, Chief?”
“Oops,
almost forgot. Actually one of your trucks might be going down.”
Lance
dropped his pen and snatched up the receiver. “What do you mean,
one of my trucks might be going down?”
“That
young fellow you just hired has your new dump truck hanging ten off
the embankment above Castle Rock.”
Lance
shoved away from the desk. “Man, why didn’t you say so?”
Dropping the receiver into place, he didn’t wait for Ron to answer.
He slipped mirrored sunglasses from his head to his nose, snatched a
worn blue cap from a hook on the wall, and snugged it down over his
unruly, blond hair.
Shooting
out the door, he crashed toe to toe, shoulder to shoulder with his
twin brother, Logan. It was a little like smashing into one's
reflection in a mirror. Thick, blond hair bleached by the Arizona sun
and struggling to escape the confines of blue ball caps, topped both
six-foot-two frames. Sky blue eyes locked gazes as the brothers
reached out muscular arms to steady one another. Denim jeans and work
shirts covered broad shoulders and long legs, unwittingly enhancing
the impression of casual strength and power.
"Ted's
in trouble with that delivery in Old Bisbee. Ron called and said
something about his “hanging ten” over the embankment. You know
Ron and his surfing terms. Anyway, I’ve got this horrible mental
picture in my mind. I’m on my way to check it out. Pray!”
He
hopped into his blue Ford truck with the M&M Construction logo on
the side, scattering gravel as he turned and headed toward the main
road. Lance knew his telling Logan to pray was unnecessary. Logan
took seriously God’s command to pray without ceasing and would
simply add this situation to his ongoing communication with the Lord.
His brother’s prayers on his behalf had been critical in getting
him through the toughest of trials. Lord,
help me to be more like Logan – on the inside.
Lance thought about how truly identical he and Logan were physically,
but he often found himself envying his brother’s steadfast faith.
Help
me turn to You first in every situation, and to keep the line open
all the time. I still have a bad habit of depending on my own
strength, leaning on “the arm of the flesh,” before coming to
You. Teach me, Lord!
****
"Tori,
look!" The timbre of Bonnie's voice shifting from awe to fearful
uncertainty snatched Tori's attention.
Bonnie
pointed down the road at a growing crowd of people.
"Can
you see what they're all gawking at?" asked Tori.
"Not
really, but it must be trouble." As was her current habit when
faced with difficulty, Bonnie threw up a protective wall, blocking
out the potential trauma, and quickly switched to a more pleasant
topic. "I've been paying more attention to those three little
kids playing in that huge ditch across the road." A smile
colored Bonnie's voice now.
Tori
turned her gaze to the three leaping, running, sliding munchkins.
Their wild antics rivaled the action of any good swashbuckler. The
would-be pirates were carting their box of captured treasure from
their cardboard ship, which they'd left anchored in a large puddle.
They were making their way to a small, dark hole in the hillside,
probably intent upon burying their stolen goods.
Tori
laughed at their imaginative play, then shifted her eyes once again
to the still growing mass of people. "Let's join the
lookie-loos." Pulling her dark glasses from the brim of her hat
and sliding them into place, Tori set out to find what was attracting
so much attention.
Bonnie
hesitated. “Carla and I will stay here and watch the little pirates
while you go look.” Bonnie grasped Carla’s hand in hers as if to
protect her from harm.
Tori
knew that in Bonnie's mind a crowd usually meant trouble. She watched
her sister's fierce protectiveness toward Carla replace her fear.
Tori often teased her about her "Mama Bear" face. Defending
Carla was the only thing that brought out the fight in Bonnie.
The
two blonds snuggled closer, side by side. They were one, bonded more
closely than many natural mothers and daughters.
When
Tori had pulled a bloodied, seven-year-old Carla from the center of a
gang beating two years ago and brought her home, she'd never thought
it would be the saving of Bonnie. But breaking free of her own
traumatic past to help someone worse off than she had given Bonnie a
purpose in life. Her maternal instincts blossomed and burst forth to
protect and enfold Carla.
"Tori,
don’t get too close. Okay?" Bonnie's command was as close to
an order as she came these days.
Tori
looked down at Bonnie's petite frame. She was so feminine looking
with her honey-blond hair softly caressing her creamy face, her
floral sundress fluttering in the slight breeze, and the daintiest of
sandals crisscrossing her tiny feet. She wasn’t much taller than
Carla, whose blond curls were on a level with Bonnie’s shoulders.
"I'll
be careful," said Tori. At least she could give the verbal
assurance her sister needed so badly. What
a pair we make, Bonnie and me – a picture of contrasts. Feminine
and tomboy. Light and dark. Short and tall. Timid and dauntless. Or
maybe that’s smart and stupid, depending on who you're asking.
Crossing
the two-lane road, Tori jogged around the corner toward the edge of
the gathering crowd. She eyed the huge drainage ditch in which the
kids were playing. They
must get quite a bit of water through here at times. That thing is
what...fifteen feet wide and almost that deep?"
She
began maneuvering through the murmuring mass of bodies, hoping for a
better view. Suddenly, the screech and wail of a police blow-horn
burst through the air effectively squelching all other noise.
MOVE
BACK! Everyone, please MOVE BACK!
Surprisingly,
the crowd immediately began to back away. They scrunched into a small
open area on the other side of the road.
Tori
couldn't believe it. One country cop, and this whole crowd was
obeying his every command like he was that dude in the Bible –
Moses or something like that.
Not
where I grew up. Twenty-eight years on the streets in downtown San
Diego says I can find a way around this Barney Fife-type and see
what's going on.
With the thought came the action. Tori scampered around the back of
the crowd, up and over a fence, around the back of a house and voila`
– she had a front-row seat. It took only a moment for her to spot
the cause of all the ruckus. Whew!
Big Mack trouble...and I don't mean McDonald's.
Across
the street, atop a fifty-foot embankment, hung the rear end of a
ten-wheel dump truck. Though the bed of the truck was raised
slightly, it looked like most of its fifteen tons of dirt was still
jammed in place. This was common ground for Tori. She'd spent the
last five years driving trucks for a landscape company. Buddy,
I think you failed to open the tailgate soon enough; and, with your
material dampened from the recent downpour, it won’t flow from the
bed. You are in a serious fix.
Tori's
gaze locked onto a boulder that slipped off the back of the truck and
began to descend the embankment. Her eyes followed the stone as it
rolled down, down, down until it finally dropped into the ditch at
the bottom. The
ditch!
Her heart stopped as she spotted Bonnie and Carla. They had crossed
the street and were leaning on the pipe railing, still watching the
pirate-kids playing in the
ditch.
Tori realized that her unique viewpoint allowed her to see this added
danger that was hidden from the mass of people with chins in the air
and eyes focused on the teetering truck. Someone
needs to get those kids out of the ditch.
While
Tori was trying to figure out the quickest way from her position, a
flash of blue caught her eye. She watched as a blue pickup truck
screeched to a halt alongside the ditch. A tall man jumped from the
truck almost before it stopped. He stood for a moment, hands on hips,
looking upward to the precariously balanced dump-truck. His head
suddenly snapped to the left. Tori knew the exact second he saw the
kids. Before she could take a breath, he flew over the pipe railing
and into the ditch.
When
the man landed and started running toward the kids, Tori jumped her
own fence, slid down a mound of rocky ground to the street, and
continued at a run. She worked her way up the embankment, sending
dirt and rocks tumbling after her as she scrambled for a foothold. By
the time she reached the top, the lack of air in her tortured lungs
folded her over like a rag doll with only half its stuffing. She
groaned.
Not
the smartest move only days out of the hospital.
Gasp. She could feel the pull of stitches against skin. Breathe
in…breathe out…slowly.
Finally
she gasped her way around to the front of the big truck and on toward
the driver’s door. Sucking in a deep, lung full of air she stood
straight. Then with practiced ease, she lifted her right foot to the
metal step, grabbed the hand bar and pulled herself up. Her left hand
automatically grasped the door handle before she realized the driver
was still in the cab of the truck.
"Hey,
buddy, how about you pull this machine out of here?" Her voice
squeaked with tension.
Tori
watched a drop of sweat cut a muddy swath down the young man's dusty
cheek. He seemed frozen in place, nothing moving except his lips. He
kept repeating the same words over and over. “Please, Lord…please
Lord.”
She
softened her voice. "Can you drive this rig out of here?"
As
if afraid to even turn his head, he muttered through clenched teeth.
"Nooo...can't... sooory...want out."
Tori
hiked her chin up a notch and gritted her teeth – a sure sign of
determination on the rise. I'd
pray too if I thought there was anyone to pray to...but, even if
there is a god, he'd never listen to me. So, as usual, I'm on my own.
"OK,
dude. Here's what we're going to do. You're going to stay just as you
are –
not that you look capable of doing anything else –
keeping your foot on the brake. Now set the parking brake. Go ahead,
you can do it.” She hoped she sounded encouraging.
It
seemed to take forever for the kid to do that simple maneuver, but he
finally accomplished it.
“That’s
my man,” exclaimed Tori. “Have you kicked in the interlock?”
“No.”
Panic shot out with the quick, one word answer, like a bullet fired
from a gun.
"Okay…no
problem. The brake is set, right?”
At
his nod, Tori continued in a soothing voice. “I'm going to open the
door."
He
flinched.
“And
you can climb out.”
His
hopeful glance was obvious, and the depth of his sigh almost broke
Tori’s heart.
"By
the way, what's your name?" Tori asked the question as she
gently pulled the door open.
"Ted!"
The word whooshed from his mouth with relief as he tumbled to the
ground and staggered away from the truck.
Tori
swung easily up onto the recently vacated seat and clasped the safety
belt across her lap. Flipping up the red cover, she thumbed the
interlock switch forward. Now, both tandems were driving. Okay,
Sweet Mack, lets get your tail back on solid ground. I’ll work on
getting the weight off your rear end, but you gotta promise me you’ll
move forward and not try any fancy back-flips.
Tori
disengaged the parking brake and slid the gearshift into
low-compound. The back wheels dropped slightly, biting deeper into
the soft ground and sending a chunk of Tori’s heart into her
throat. A terrible possibility suddenly slammed into her brain. Who
would take care of Bonnie and Carla if she got herself killed? Why
didn't she think of that before getting herself into a dangerous
situation? It had been less than a week since she'd luckily escaped
the last mess. Was she doomed to stupidity? Tori shook off that
depressing thought.
She
applied more pressure to the accelerator and the roar of the engine
grew. With the tandem axles driving together, the truck strained
upward. Tori eased the stick forward, letting the hydraulics gently
settle the bed into place as the Mack gradually pulled itself up and
over the embankment's edge.
It
was strange how five harrowing minutes could feel like hours of
tension. She punched the horn in relief and as a sign of victory,
then continued to ease the massive machine away from the drop-off.
All wheels now rested on solid ground. Tori took a deep breath,
kissed her fingertips and tenderly touched the dashboard. Sweet,
you are really sweet, Mack. Terrible habit – talking to myself, but
to machines? Crazy.
After
checking her mirrors, Tori shifted into reverse. Easing backwards she
was careful to stop inches short of the crumbling edge. She popped
the tailgate and began raising the bed. A couple of bumps of the bed
broke loose the clogged muck, and fifteen tons of dirt poured
smoothly down the embankment. Tori once again levered the bed into
place and maneuvered the big Mack into position. She faced the road
leading off the hill, thinking to make it easy for the kid to take it
from there.
Shoving
the truck into neutral, she set the brake, flipped the interlock off
and snapped its red cover into place. She released the catch on the
seat belt and reached for the door, mentally patting herself on the
back for a job well-done. A grin curved her lips. She loved driving
big trucks and heavy equipment.
Maybe
it's a control issue. All that power awaiting my command, resting
under my fingertips. Shoot! Nothing else in life follows my
directions. Is
it
any wonder I like working in a field that lets me be the master?
Metal
creaked. The heavy door swung open and a huge, brown hand clamped
around her arm and tugged her from the cab. Muscular arms slammed her
against a broad chest then squeezed and thumped until she thought
she’d pass out. It was a forgone conclusion, she'd have bruises on
her bruises. But, she hoped the stitches across her ribs and back
didn't pull loose. She wasn't ready to deal with that eventuality.
Tori
cringed as her control passed to someone bigger and stronger. Why did
it always seem to work that way?
Buy it NOW: Arizona Redemption
Scripture taken from the
HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright © 1973, 1978,
1984 .by International Bible Society Used by permission of Zondervan.
All rights reserved.
Sketches
of Bisbee, Arizona,
Copyright
©Charles
Turner, Bisbee resident and Art Teacher. Used by permission of
Charles Turner.
All rights reserved. No part
of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system
or transmitted in any form by any means, except for brief quotations
in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the author.
The following is a work of
fiction. References to real events, places, businesses and
organizations are intended to add a sense of reality to this work.
The Honorable, Mayor Charles E. (Chuck) Eads actually existed. Any
resemblance to any other person, living or dead, is purely
coincidental.
Cover Photo: Leia Job https://www.leiajobe.com
