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  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Adcard

  Copyright

  For Sandra Dixon,

  who always makes me laugh out loud

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I gratefully acknowledge and appreciate all acts of encouragement shown to me. It is true what the wise folks say, “Kindness matters.”

  Thank you to Sally McMillan, Linda McFall, Nichole Argyres, and the editorial staff at St. Martin’s Press.

  We are climbing Jacob’s Ladder

  We are climbing Jacob’s Ladder

  We are climbing Jacob’s Ladder

  Soldiers of the cross.

  ONE

  It was late when the old Ford pickup pulling a small travel trailer drove up to the office at Shady Grove Campground in West Memphis, Arkansas. Mary, the manager, always locked the door at 8:00 P.M., and any campers arriving after hours had to make their own arrangements regarding where to park. They were asked to put one night’s payment in an envelope kept in a bucket by the front window, stuff the envelope through a slot in the door, and select a site from the large map pinned next to the after-hours directions.

  Rose was usually the one to follow up by stopping at the site the next morning to find out how long the campers were planning to stay and whether or not they were satisfied with their hookups. Being late March, still well before the busy summer season, there were usually plenty of places from which to choose.

  Jacob Sunspeaker was the driver of the old truck, a 1974 model, blue and white, with New Mexico tags. He came from the southern tip of McKinley County, west of El Morro and just beyond Ramah. He was of the Zuni tribe, lived in the pueblo, in a small house beside his sister and her family. He made jewelry—bracelets and rings mostly, some belt buckles, all silver with an inlay design—which he sold in Gallup. That was where he bought his truck and trailer in the early nineties, when he was particularly productive and when the silver business was booming.

  The trailer he was pulling, a Coachmen, was rusted on the bottom and its gray paint was peeling on the front and sides. It was a twenty-four-footer, with a double bed, a table, and extra storage—plenty of room for two people, more than was really needed for just one.

  He took it to the market where he sold his bracelets and rings and over to Santa Fe and Albuquerque for the Indian Market and to some of the feast days at the pueblos, where he participated in the dances and got new ideas for his jewelry designs. He lived in it most of the summers, moving to his house only when the wind blew too hard, making it difficult to sleep or cook in a house on wheels.

  The Coachmen suited Mr. Sunspeaker. Once he had received the vision that became his mission and when the knowledge of what he had to do became the sturdy place from which to hoist himself, he found the travel trailer was the best possible means of always being ready to relocate and visit the next necessary destination. He discovered that he liked the feel of being mobile, of having a dwelling that moved so effortlessly with him.

  His sister teased him about taking up the habits of white people, so many of whom they saw driving their campers and trailers through the pueblo to get to the Hawikuh Ruins or Ojo Caliente, the hot springs near their homes. But her jokes never bothered him.

  He told her that the ease of few belongings and the ability to move quickly were more the way of Indians, he having descended from a people who traveled as nature dictated.

  The old Coachmen was dented in a few places, in need of a good wash, and two of the windows were cracked and covered with silver duct tape. Jacob Sunspeaker, however, was satisfied with both how it looked and how it pulled behind his old truck. He saw no need for an upgrade or a fresh coat of paint.

  No one knew exactly what time he drove into the campground. Old Man Willie, who lived in one of Rhonda and Lucas’s campers situated near the office, was usually the one who confirmed the times of arrival. Generally awake until very late, he stopped by the office every day and informed the manager on duty or one of the owners what time the after-hours visitors arrived.

  That night, however, the raw, moonless night that Jacob Sunspeaker found his way from the interstate over to the river, Willie didn’t hear the truck and the travel trailer pull in and stop. He was in bed, having eaten a very big dinner, and had been lulled to sleep by the extended winter chill and the black night of the March sky.

  He was dreaming of violets and an old lover’s smooth hands when the Coachmen pulled over to site number Thirty-four, one without hookups on the far right side of the campground, the grassy area near the Mississippi and close to the uncleared part of the acreage.

  Originally used for tents and people sleeping in their automobiles, that part of the campground had been closed for more than a year. The narrow piece of real estate owned by the Boyd couple jutted out farther into the Mississippi at that location and had been added to their purchase without their request. Over the years, the property had developed so many flooding problems that instead of trying to remedy them, Rhonda and Lucas had simply discontinued using that landing for camping sites.

  Only hikers and the guests who enjoyed private fishing visited the spot, but there was still a driveway leading to it. Apparently, Mr. Sunspeaker had not paid attention to the map at the office and had driven down on the main road, past the curve that led into the park, and turned right onto the old driveway and into the closed-off area.

  Willie had awakened because of a barking dog and was sad to be yanked away from a woman’s arms and the dream he loved so much. Because he was awake, he did hear the other vehicle that pulled in just after Mr. Sunspeaker.

  He peeked out the window just in time to see the one with the idling motor, the black SUV with unidentified license plates. He paid no attention to it, assuming it was an automobile belonging to a registered guest or that it was just someone visiting a friend. He knew cars came and went at Shady Grove as the campers enjoyed nightly excursions to Memphis and other places along the river.

  Since he was not familiar with Mr. Sunspeaker and his journey to Arkansas, Willie had no way of knowing that the SUV was the same vehicle that had been parked on the pueblo for a week as the old man prepared for his journey, the same vehicle that had followed Jacob Sunspeaker out of New Mexico.

  He also did not know the old man had seen the trouble coming to him in a dream in the form of a dark thundercloud and that Mr. Sunspeaker had pushed up his trip by more than a couple of days, trying to elude what he saw on the horizon.

  Willie simpl
y got back into bed, rolled over, and went back to sleep before noticing that the driver turned off his lights as the car headed down the main road behind the old truck and trailer and that there were at least three men inside, all dressed in black, two of them carrying guns. He pulled the covers tightly around his shoulders, wondering if the dream would come to him once more, hoping his lover had not drifted too far from his memories.

  No one, not even Willie, knew that trouble, like a late winter storm, had passed through the gates of Shady Grove on the chilly night in March when the sky was pitch-black, the stars and the moon hidden behind clouds.

  No one other than Willie heard the SUV as it entered the campground, and no one heard it leave within one hour’s time. No one witnessed the old man struggle and finally fall. No one recognized the words that passed between his lips or the anguished way he prayed.

  No one saw a thing.

  TWO

  The following day, Mary did not know there was a new camper on the grounds until she found the envelope on the floor in the office with fifteen one-dollar bills stuffed inside. She knew she hadn’t seen anybody different on any of the sites when she drove around the grounds early in the morning, picking up trash in her golf cart. She had also already spoken to Willie, who made no mention of any latecomers as he handed his friend his bag of trash. He spoke only of the frosty night and the way the shadows had danced along the edge of the woods.

  She took out the contents of the envelope, counted the money, considered where it might have come from, and logged in a receipt. She checked and sorted through the files and waited until Rose arrived to send her out to discover where the night’s late arrival had camped. She started brewing the coffee, opened the reservation book, and sat down at her desk for her day’s work. It wasn’t long before she saw her friend walking up the drive and coming into the office.

  “Somebody new here.” Mary gave the report before any greeting. Since English was not her first language, she spoke in the clipped way to which Rose had grown accustomed.

  “That’s nice. Good morning to you, too,” Rose replied as she walked in and shut the door. “It’s cold. I thought the weatherman said we were going to have a warm front this week.” She slid her hands up and down the sides of her arms. She was wearing only a lightweight jacket.

  “Weathermen don’t know about weather. I felt the cold in my shoulder yesterday. You should have asked me about what comes out front.” She was flipping through the pages of reservations to see if she had missed one for the previous night.

  “Ms. Lou Ellen has a doctor’s appointment this afternoon. Since Rhonda and Lucas are gone, I said I would take her. I hope that’s all right. You’re going to be here, aren’t you?” Rose unzipped her jacket and pulled it off. She hung it on the coat tree by the door.

  “Where I go?” Mary blew out a breath of air.

  “I don’t know. You could have a date or something.” Rose moved over to stand in front of the counter where Mary was working.

  Mary rolled her eyes. “I don’t see no reservation for anybody.” She was not responding to Rose’s suggestion.

  The other woman walked behind the counter. “Why are you searching for one?”

  “Because somebody stuck this in the door last night.” She showed Rose the fifteen one-dollar bills. “I didn’t see nobody new when I came in, and there’s no reservation.” She closed the book. “Willie didn’t mention anybody coming in.”

  “Maybe they parked over in the last row. It’s hard to see behind the trees.” Rose stepped around Mary and checked to see if the coffee had finished brewing.

  “You had your first cup yet?” she asked Mary as she walked toward the coffeemaker.

  “Nah, I got busy and forgot.”

  “Well, let me sit down beside you and we’ll drink together.”

  Rose wheeled the chair out from behind the counter and pushed it next to where Mary was standing. Then she reached for two mugs sitting under the window, wiped them out with a dish towel, and then poured coffee into each one.

  “It’s strange that Willie didn’t hear anybody,” Rose said as she handed Mary her mug and sat down beside her. “He doesn’t miss much around here.”

  They both glanced out the front window, trying to imagine where the new camper was parked. They held the cups of coffee in their hands, waiting for them to cool.

  “Maybe he already came and left,” Rose said.

  Mary considered the possibility. She took her first swallow, made a clucking noise with her tongue.

  “That has happened, right?” Rose asked.

  Mary opened the top drawer of her desk and found a sugar packet. She opened it and poured the contents in her drink. “Some,” she said.

  “Well, that’s probably what it is if they aren’t over in the last row.” Rose nodded.

  Mary stirred her coffee. There was a pause. “Ms. Lou Ellen get off her cane today?” she asked, tired of thinking about the mystery camper and his or her whereabouts.

  “Yep. She’s getting her walking license,” Rose replied. “She’s been immobilized and motorized and accessorized for longer than I thought she could manage. I suspect if that doctor doesn’t release her today, she might just find a new use for that stainless-steel cane he gave her.”

  Mary smiled. Both women knew that Ms. Lou Ellen’s hip fracture and surgery late in the summer the previous year had been a true hardship. The recovery period had taken longer than anyone expected, as there had been a few complications and the older woman was not one to sit around feeling content about being infirm and obeying orders. She had managed a difficult number of months.

  “She say she good as new,” Mary added. “I tell her she good as old.”

  Rose laughed. She took a sip of coffee and placed the mug on the desk in front of her, then looked out the window again.

  As if on cue, Ms. Lou Ellen had come out of her cabin and began walking on the path to the office. Both women watched her.

  There was nothing odd about her being out and about, for she often came by to join her two friends for morning conversation. But Rose noticed right away that something was different about this trip Ms. Lou Ellen was making to the office. This time, she was not alone. Following behind her was a skinny, three-legged black dog. They hobbled together toward the office. The women were stunned to see such a sight because they both knew that Ms. Lou Ellen didn’t have a dog and she had always made it perfectly clear that she did not like them very much.

  “Well, my, my,” Rose said to Mary as they stared at the older woman walking in their direction. She moved toward the office unhurriedly and carefully, using the cane as the doctor had ordered, while the dog, which the women in the office could now see clearly, limped behind her. The older woman appeared to be speaking to her new companion. She hesitated, as if she had thought of something, made a remark in the dog’s direction, and laughed. Then she started walking again.

  Ms. Lou Ellen made it to the front porch steps, slid the cane beneath her right arm, reached for the railing, and pulled herself up the four steps. She turned around to her new friend and he stumbled up next to her.

  “Somebody open up and let us in. It’s freezing out here.” She had made it to the front door.

  Rose stepped around the counter and opened the door. Ms. Lou Ellen moved in beside her, while the dog stood on the porch.

  “It’s all right, darling,” she said to the animal. “These women are harmless.”

  The dog backed away and walked over to the corner of the porch. As if he had been commanded, he sat down and then slid his front paws forward, stretching into a prostrate position.

  “Well, I guess somebody trained him right,” Rose said as they both stared at the old mutt, who lay in the corner watching the women.

  “I suppose,” Ms. Lou Ellen replied as she turned around and headed into the office.

  Rose pulled the door closed. She stood behind it, staring out the window at the dog.

  “Where did he come from?” she
asked as Rhonda’s mother moved to the table in the center of the room and stood beside it. She was wearing a dark skirt, a thick wool sweater, and a raincoat. The hood fell across her eyes and she pulled it away.

  “Who knows,” she replied. “He just showed up at my door this morning, crying.” She balanced the cane against the wall beside her and slipped her coat off. She threw it on the back of the chair and sat down.

  “He sounded like an old hant. I heard him out there whining and carrying on, tried to shoo him off. Darn thing wouldn’t leave.” She nodded and winked in Mary’s direction, her way of asking for coffee.

  “He must have been out there an hour before I opened the door and finally peeked out.” She settled in her chair as the other women listened. “When I did, well, of course, I realized right away who he is.” She blew out a puff of air.

  Rose and Mary waited.

  “Well, friends, it’s easy to see. Look in his eyes.” She touched the sides of her hair. She was spent from her walk.

  Rose peered through the screen. As if he had been called, the old dog lifted his head in her direction.

  “Well, what am I saying? You certainly wouldn’t recognize him,” Ms. Lou Ellen said.

  Rose turned to her friend, hoping that she was going to explain.

  “You haven’t known us long enough to recognize that memorable face.”

  Rose was curious.

  “It’s my ex-husband. Number two,” she said very matter-of-factly.

  Rose stared at her, wailing for more.

  “If you had seen the man, you’d know,” she said, waving her hands in the air. “Girls, it is Mr. Lester Earl Perkins returned from the dead to bring me trouble.”

  Mary poured Ms. Lou Ellen a cup of coffee, sprinkled some powdered cream in it, stirred it, and took it to her friend at the table.

  “Just like that old devil to come back as a three-legged dog and hound me.” She took the coffee with a smile. “Thank you, Mary dear.”

  “Phhtttt,” Mary responded. “Your dead husband wouldn’t be so quick to lay in a corner if he like you say he was.” She glanced out the door at the dog. He was still lying quietly on the porch.