Home Everlasting (Holliday Book 3) Read online

  Lilith took a step back from her father, letting Mulreedy take over. "Date didn't go well?" she whispered to Marty.

  "It went. It happened. It's all over now," he said, his eyes fixed on the floor, the lip of the bottle came up to meet his lips. He tipped it back.

  "Where'd you get the beer?"

  "My truck."

  She nodded. "Hey Dad, you want me to take you home?

  "Come on Lilith. I'm trying to keep him here. It's for his own good," said Mulreedy. "He needs to start physical therapy. That can continue back home, after the initial things are done."

  "I don't need any damn physical therapy. Just need my horse," said Saul.

  "You'll fall off your damn horse, probably toppling the poor creature over at the same time," spat Mulreedy. "Why don't you people ever listen?"

  There had been a fundamental change in her thinking since her great grandfather had decided her future for her. No, that was wrong. She had let him change her future. Maybe it was a decision that she'd always knew she'd take. The ranch was home. But as she sat in her father's chair, overlooking the ranch through his windows, soon her windows, she felt a connection that she hadn't internalized before.

  Perhaps it was seeing her great grandfather's will. Perhaps it was thinking about her father's own mortality. But she understood now, especially now, why her father had tried to get out of bed to get home, knowing that he couldn't even walk.

  "I'll take you home, Dad," she said, moving forward to contradict Mulreedy. "He'll live if we take him home? You'll make house calls?"

  Mulreedy grunted, his nose flaring and his anger rising. "Yeah, I'll make fuckin' house calls. Fuckin' baby."

  "Marty," said Lilith, glancing over to him. "Get the discharge papers. Doctor Mulreedy's orders."

  Mulreedy put his hand in his breast pocket, still looking for a cigarette, and once again realizing he had run out. "Fuck that. Doctor Holliday's orders."

  Saul smiled. "My daughter," he whispered, grabbing her hand with his good one, and trying to get back up. "Thanks for coming to get me."

  She nodded and helped him to his feet, and then turned around as Mulreedy helped Saul into his clothes. It was awkward and took a while as Saul and Mulreedy argued about how to position his bad leg, but finally it was all on, and when she turned around, she found her strong, tall, heavyset father in front of her. It was a damn good sight for sore eyes.

  "Ready?" she whispered, looking at them both.

  Marty walked back in, papers in hand, pushing a wheelchair. "Alright, let's get this show on the road!"

  "I won't be needing that," said Saul, taking Lilith's hand again.

  "You just have to make everything even more difficult, don't you? You had a goddamn stroke!" said Mulreedy, more than exasperated. He was tired too.

  "Alright then," said Marty, pushing it down the hallway, letting it roll into the vending machine.

  Slowly, taking each step with ease, Saul's weight on Lilith and Marty, they walked him through the hospital. Nurses and doctors gawked, but shook their head in understanding. There was a specific cowboy spirit in Saul, and in so many men in the area. They refused to be handed death. They would take it on their own terms, even if they had to crawl out the hospital's doors.

  It was slow going, and Saul asked to stop for a moment, before they finally exited into the open air. It was a cool night, the stars shone brightly, and even Marty could sense the positivity in the air. Mulreedy traded places with Lilith as she brought her truck around. They slowly lowered Saul into the truck.

  "Ready?" asked Lilith, looking at her father. His labored breathing was troubling, but he seemed to be better just being out of the hospital. He nodded at her. She rolled the window down. "Doc, you gonna follow us home?"

  "Fuckin' hell yes I am. You people have no idea what you're doing," said Mulreedy. Harry emerged from the hospital and threw his pack to Mulreedy. He caught it greedily. "I'm keeping this."

  "Whatever, man," said Harry, laughing. "You look like you need it."

  Lilith revved her engine and slowly left the parking lot, as Mulreedy lit another cigarette and hopped in his truck and followed them. Marty brought up the rear.

  They all drove slowly. Saul's mood and countenance only truly improved when he heard Lilith's truck's tires rumble over the long gravel road that finally led home, to his home, where he was born and where he wanted to die.

  It was something that Lilith was finally appreciating. Not just the idea of coming back, but the idea of it being home.

  Her father looked at the dark mountains, against the starlit sky, and sighed.

  ~~~

  Judge Henrik wore his pajamas over cowboy boots, and a leather jacket covering his bare, and sizable chest, as he walked into the Sheriff's Office. Holt had called him, sounding stressed, aggravated, and like he was in a bind. While it wasn't technically kosher that they work so closely together, they had become friends over the years, and Henrik took it as his personal responsibility to call Holt out on all his nonsense and bad logic. And to recuse himself from cases if he became too close to Holt's facts.

  His chest hair stuck out from between the jacket, but he didn't care. He was one of the only judges in the Beartooth Mountains, and as such he could not care about a lot of things. "Where's Holt?" he asked the deputy on duty.

  "In his office sir," said the deputy, unflinchingly. Henrik was known to walk around or be in the Sheriff's Office at odd hours and be oddly dressed. It was just his thing.

  He wound his way past the desks, nodded at Clark and Honey in the cell and then walked into Holt's office, ready to face whatever crisis that had stumped Holt.

  He stepped inside to see Holt and Clark's lawyer, Tad, seated across from each other. "What the hell do you want?" asked Henrik, taking the other empty seat in the room.

  "Jim Dolmat," said Holt matter-of-factly.

  "Jim Dolmat?"

  "Jim Dolmat," repeated Holt.

  "The mechanic?" asked Henrik. "What about him?"

  "Yes Sheriff Holt. What about him? You called and dragged me over an hour all the way out here, to tell me what about this mechanic? Is this related to Clark’s case?"

  Holt got up from his chair and put his arms on his desk. "Jim Dolmat has confessed to Ricky's murder."

  "What?" whispered Henrik. "Impossible. Accomplices? Cause?"

  "I demand you release my client!" said Tad, gathering his briefcase and other papers. "You did not need to call me out here to tell me this. Just release Clark. Let's get this over with."

  "Sit down young buck," said Henrik. "Take that as an official court order." He reached into his jacket and took out a cigar and a butane lighter. He lit it and proceeded to blow smoke rings throughout the room.

  Tad looked over at Henrik and then Holt, and sat back down. "Continue gentleman."

  "No real cause, besides some pioneer thing, and he won’t name his accomplices," said Holt, running his hand through his hair. "I had a deputy brew a pot of coffee, anyone want some?"

  "What's this have to do with Clark, and also yes please," said Tad.

  "Because I'm not convinced," said Holt, stepping out and pouring two cups.

  "Neither am I," said Henrik, proceeding to chew on the cigar as he thought.

  "This has nothing to do with my client. You have a confession on the record, with motive I imagine? Release him," said Tad, trying to make himself sound forceful. It was difficult with Holt, an old mountain man, and Judge Henrik, an old blowhard, in the room.

  "Calm down minnow," said Henrik. "This has everything to do with your client."

  "Indeed," said Holt.

  "What did you deputies find out from the neighbors?" asked Henrik. "I imagine someone saw who vandalized the house."

  "No one's talking, at all. Nothing. Not a peep."

  "What about from Markus Kincaid?"

  "Wasn't home any of the four times the boys went out to talk to him. Maybe he's packed up because of the vandalizing."

  "Good," said
Henrik, picking tobacco pieces from his tongue. "I always disliked that little snitch of a man."

  "You're saying the confession isn't enough?" asked Tad, incredulously. "Is there evidence linking him to the crime?"

  "One of my deputies is checking Dolmat's shop. He said he's got some blood soaked clothes in there," said Holt. "But that's not even the issue. They tried to frame Clark. Is Clark in danger? Should I hold him here?"

  "That would be a violation of his rights," exclaimed Tad.

  "So would be dyin' because someone is after him," said Henrik. "I hear he's got a pretty lady in his life now too. She'd be mighty sad if Holt let Clark die."

  "That news traveled fast. And Lilith would probably lead a campaign to get me fired if Clark died," said Holt. "I love her to death, but I swear she has a vindictive streak."

  "Get's that from her grandmother," said Henrik. "I met the old lady once. Gut made of nails and steel wool."

  Silence fell over them as neither Henrik nor Holt knew how to solve this problem. Dolmat had confessed. There was much more to this entire thing then what was in front of them, and there was no way to figure out what it was yet.

  "Release my client," said Tad, again, with a little more force.

  "Send him home under guard, just in case. That should be enough to protect him," said Henrik.

  Holt nodded, still unsure if that would be enough. "You can go Tad, tell Clark the good news."

  Tad got up and dashed out, glad to finally leave.

  "How big is this, Henrik?"

  "Too big," he replied. He had chewed his cigar into oblivion and threw it in the trash.

  "Fink!" yelled Holt.

  Deputy Fink Carlson ran into the room. "Yessir?"

  "You're going to look after Clark. I ain't convinced of anything yet. This Dolmat news is odd and fine, it could work out. Hanssen could find something, but I just don't know it. Shadow Clark. Watch his moves. Protect him if someone comes after him. Report every 6 hours."

  "Yes sir, with pleasure," said Fink, smiling and patting his sidearm. "No one gets past me." He nodded and walked out.

  Holt sure hoped that was true. He needed a break in this case. Just a small one. Dolmat didn't deserve to go to jail if there was someone higher up they could get. Maybe Dolmat was coerced.

  He had a son. He had a shop. He was important in the community. He sighed, realizing, that none of those things mattered. If Dolmat had committed murder, it was over for him.

  Holt had put him in the conference room, and locked it, leaving only a legal pad and a pen. It would be good to keep him away from Clark and Honey, at least until Clark left. He probably needed some alone time to write his confession, anyway.

  He looked out his office door and saw Clark exiting the cell. He hoped that it wasn't over for Clark as well.

  "Well, Holt. How about my crime? You find who took my boots yet?" said Henrik, running his hand through his chest hair.

  Holt sighed and sat back down.

  ~~~

  Lilith sat with her father in the kitchen. She had cooked some eggs and bacon for him, with a cup of coffee. Mulreedy oversaw the entire operation and accepted some late night dinner, although begrudgingly. He bemoaned that sterile hospital food was definitely better than grease. Saul, however, disagreed loudly by eating several slices of bacon at once.

  It pained her to notice his struggle with chewing. The left side of his face wasn't wholly paralyzed, but it was clear that he was struggling with even the little loss of ability. Mulreedy had been clear, multiple times, that it would take months, even years to regain all of it. And Saul corrected him that it was clear that neither of them was going to live that long, anyway.

  This little bit of normality, even at the late hour, sitting with her father and Mulreedy was enough to bring her some happiness from the precarious predicaments that had recently plagued her visit home.

  And it was no longer a visit. Her father's collapse, her great grandfather's will, and even Clark, had solidified to her that she was going to stay. That was a huge realization, and one that she tried not to take lightly. She kept running it over in her mind to be sure it was real.

  "Dad, Doc, I have some news, perhaps it's the right time to share with you both," she said, munching into a slice of bacon and then dusting off her fingers.

  "Yeah?" said Doc, expectantly. She knew he was still waiting for an answer. But it was also clear that he wasn't going to be leaving soon. He'd never leave his best friend, especially now that the end was clearly closer.

  "I've decided to stay," she whispered. Once she said it out loud, it was both momentous and sad. She had decided something, and that meant that all the other possibilities, all the other futures were blocked. A weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and a dark veil had descended.

  "You'll take over the ranch?" asked Saul, picking up his coffee and then quickly setting it back down when his hands shook too much. He cursed.

  "I'll take over the ranch. And then, I will take over Doc's office," she said, watching as Mulreedy beamed and a smile took over his cigarette stained teeth. He took out his pack and lit a victory cigarette. Saul nudged his coffee cup towards him as an ashtray, knowing that he wouldn't be able to drink it.

  "Will you be able to handle both jobs?" asked Saul.

  "I think I'm going to promote Marty to Ranch Manager. He's a Holliday now, and I think he's more than suited for the job. He'll be able to run day to day things, and I'll do the bigger stuff," she replied. She had worked it out in her head earlier, before Dolmat's confession.

  She still didn't know how to broach that topic. She'd figure out a way to do it, or perhaps she'd wait until Holt came over and had a chat with her. She knew he would. He loved his followup visits.

  "Sounds like you have everything in order. What'll I do?" laughed Saul, a bit forlornly.

  "Recuperate. Move to Hawaii. Marry a stripper," replied Mulreedy.

  "What a life ahead of me."

  "I still need you Dad," Lilith said, reaching out and taking his good hand. "I dunno how to do this ranch thing like you do."

  "You'll pick it up right quick. Aggie did. You will," he replied. "I'm gonna go lay down on the couch."

  "I'll get ya there," said Mulreedy, helping him up and guiding him away. He seemed stronger with every passing minute, even though he still dragged his left leg.

  Lilith watched them go, thinking that although she had provided herself with some sort of certain future, there was still so much that was uncertain. Was there anything about her future that would ever be certain? Stability seemed like a nice fantasy.

  She checked her phone, hoping that Clark would text her as soon as he got out. He didn't have anywhere to sleep, his home was trashed, and she hoped he didn't sleep in his truck. She would invite him over, perhaps snuggle in one of the many rooms in the upper floors out of earshot, and just finally sleep next to him. That's all she wanted.

  She looked out the kitchen windows, at the starlit ranch outside, the dark monoliths of mountains still visible. She hoped she had made the right decision.

  Earlier, she had brought down the letter from Boston and set it on the counter, perhaps as a way to make the decision feel more real. But it didn't help. Boston was no longer real. Everything outside the ranch wasn't real. It was literally another world, and a world that she was choosing to reject.

  She took the letter, and without glancing at it, tore it into as many pieces as she could, ripping it again and again, until there was nothing left but illegible slivers of paper.

  The decision was made. She gathered up the slivers and threw them away, wishing in that moment that she could have burned it instead. But in that too, what was done was done.

  She took a look around the kitchen, soaking it all in. This was where she had grown up, and this was where she was going to die.

  So be it.

  Hopefully, Clark could share it with her. Otherwise, it would be a very large and lonely house. And a small and lonely existence.


  ~~~

  "Here," Holt said, throwing Clark his truck's keys. "Brought it over from the ranch a while ago."

  Clark nodded at him and smiled. Holt had always been on his side. He may not have all the answers about the case, or all the answers on why Dolmat confessed, but Holt always knew Clark was a good guy. Everyone knew that.

  Clark walked through the station, his head held high, as Fink trailed behind him. He patted Clark on the back. "Welcome to freedom," Fink said, helping Clark push the office's door open. They walked into the cool night air.

  Freedom. He took a deep breath, glad to finally be out of jail, glad to see his truck sitting out front, unmolested. He was going to go straight to Lilith, straight up the long gravel road, and see his lady. The moments they had in the conference room weren't enough.

  He unlocked his truck, hopped inside, and slowly left the parking lot, waiting for Fink to start his cruiser and follow behind him. He thought that the escort was a little too much, but Holt had insisted. He just wanted to see Lilith tonight, anyway. He wasn't going to stay over. There was a motel a little ways from the ranch. He'd stay there so he could still get to work. He'd need the money to fix up the house and move out. He had decided he couldn't live there anymore.

  Would Lilith let him live with her? Maybe it was too early. Maybe he would be asking for too much. He would try to broach the topic and see what she said. He'd just gotten out of jail. It was time to take some chances and some risks that didn't involve sitting and staring at the wall.

  The mountain roads caught his attention abruptly, as the twists and turns surprised him. He hadn't driven these roads in a few days, and not having grown up with them, they were still foreign to him. He slowed down, looking out his side mirrors to see Fink following him and also slowing down. He didn't know what to think about Fink. They were about to get a lot closer if Fink was going to be his shadow.

  Abruptly, Fink popped on his lights as well as the siren. Not knowing what else to do, Clark slowed down to a stop in the middle of the road. The darkness was complete around them. Just a cruiser and a truck on a lonely mountain road.

  Fink got out of his cruiser and walked towards him, his driver side spotlight disturbingly bright against the side of the truck. What could Fink want? Maybe he thought Clark was tired. Clark's breath and heartbeat quickened as Fink approached and rapped on the window with his knuckles.