Page 47 of God’s Country

“Give me the goddamn gun!” Ollie hollered.

Stan handed him the Glock. Ollie fired three rounds in rapid succession. “Shit.” He glanced at his brother. “Go after her. I’ll stay up here with the cop. The dead cop,” he added and gave me a killing look.

Stan took off at a run. I let go of the rope, stood up, and walked to where Ollie sat on his fat bottom, the barrel of the Glock pointed up at my chest.

“I’m your only ticket out now,” I reminded him.

“And I’m going it make it a trip through hell for you, I swear,” Ollie snarled at me.

I could see Leticia. She was at the canoe that she and her father had come in. I watched her lift it and slide it onto the lake. She stepped in, backpaddled a few yards into the bay, then headed toward the narrows, stroking furiously.

I turned my gaze toward Devil’s Door. The sun was in my eyes so I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I saw two figures standing atop the wall on the near side. Cordell and Tucker? I blinked against the glare, and when I looked again the figures were gone.

Down below, Stan raced to the lake’s edge and stood frozen as Leticia’s canoe grew smaller and smaller. Then, as if he’d had a sudden thought, he turned and disappeared on the path that ran through the trees past the pit toilet. He dashed toward the fold in the rock that was Devil’s Bottom. As Ollie and I watched, he grabbed something from the tall wild grass at the base of the cliff, gave a cry of triumph, and lifted the pack for us to see.

“Ha!” Ollie cried. Then, oddly for a man who seemed to care nothing about the Divine, he said, “Thank God.”

In that moment I wondered, and was to wonder many more times across the next few days, what God exactly was he talking about?

CHAPTER 28

Before we started down from the top of the cliff, Ollie hit me with his pistol. He swung it at my face, but I was able to turn so that it caught me just above my left ear, knocking me down. Then he proceeded to kick me. Despite the pain in his back, he managed to put a lot of effort into it. Between kicks, I reminded him that if he and Stan were going to get out of Boundary Waters, they needed me alive. He stopped, but I could tell it was with great reluctance. It took me a while to be able to stand up, then he marched me down. “Marched” isn’t quite the right word because we went slowly, the heavy man bent and swearing a blue streak, me stumbling a little because of the beating.

Stan met us at the campsite. When he saw me bleeding from the pistol whipping, he said to his brother, “Did you try to kill him?”

“Wanted to,” Ollie said. “Still might.”

“I waited for you,” Stan said, holding up the pack.

“Over there,” Ollie ordered me, pointing toward a log near the fire pit.

I sat and watched as the two brothers opened the dry bag. Stan reached inside and pulled out a bound sheaf of papers. I couldn’t make out what they were, but they looked to be official documents of some kind.

“What do you reckon?” Ollie said.

Stan gazed into the dry bag for a few moments. “Like he said, millions.”

“Jesus Murphy,” Ollie exclaimed.

“Still got some whiskey left?” Stan asked. “I think we need to celebrate.”

“In my pack in the tent. I’ll watch Dudley Do-Right here.” Ollie turned the Glock my way so that the hole at the barrel’s end was like a black, unblinking eye tracking my every move.

After Stan had disappeared into the tent, I said, “What is it that was worth all the deaths?”

“A fortune,” Ollie said.

“Millions?”

“And millions.”

“Didn’t look like money.”

“As good as,” Ollie said. “Now shut up.”

Stan rejoined us, an unopened bottle of Canadian Club in his hand. He cracked the seal, but before he took a drink, he lifted the bottle in a toast. “To the old man. May the bastard rot in hell.”

“I’ll drink to that,” Ollie said, and when Stan handed him the bottle, he did.