Arizona Redemption - Short Preview

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