Scarlet Ribbons

Could he have gone to his brother's house, she wondered? No, they hadn't talked in years. That would probably be the last place he'd go.

Carrie was getting anxious, she had to find out what was happening. The first thing she did was check the kitchen table; her letter was still there and unopened. "Mom, where are you? Where's Dad?"

"I'm up here, Honey, in the bedroom."

Carrie found her mother sitting on the edge of the bed holding her dad's jewelry box on her lap. "Where's Dad? He hasn't seen my letter yet."

Julie knew from the coffee pot that he'd been in the kitchen. She couldn't imagine him not seeing the envelope. "I don't know, Honey, he was here, but it looks like he left again. If I know your father, he's headed somewhere to be alone for a while."

"Where, where would he go?"

"I have no idea, Carrie, your guess is as good as mine." Then she had a thought. "Honey, run out and get my purse, I have to make a phone call." Without hesitation, Carrie ran out to the car and was back in no time.

Julie thanked her daughter while digging for her phone. "I'll call Mr. Goznel, his boss; he'll know where your dad went." When she connected with the plant's main number, she had to listen to the receptionist brag about what a great man Axel was before being connected.

"Roy, it's Julie Brolin..."

"Julie, how's Axel? I was trying to call him but I read in the paper that his phone was broken in the fight and I didn't have your number; how's he doing?"

"You mean you haven't talked to him at all since it happened?"

"No, why, what's the matter, is he going to be all right?"

"I think so," she replied. "You see... " She went on to tell Axel's boss the same pack of lies she'd told everyone else... she and Carrie were out of town, the hospital released him that morning... the doctor said he was going to be fine.

"Roy, he might call you before me, if he does, please let me know where he is, will you?"

That sounded a little strange. Why would Axel call him before calling his wife? "Julie, is everything okay between you two?"

"We had a little row before I left. He might be still ticked at me, that's all."

He wasn't going to dig any deeper, but he knew Axel and there was no way he'd let a family squabble keep him from calling his wife and child after going through what he did. Something wasn't right. "I'll call you if I hear from him, promise," he responded.

After hanging up, Julie told her daughter Axel hadn't been in touch with his work either. "Let's go back to the ranch, Honey."

"The ranch? What if he comes back? We should stay here."

"Honey, some of his clothes are missing along with some other stuff. I'm sure he found a nice quiet place to recuperate for a while. He might not be back for a couple of weeks. We'll check periodically; in the meantime, we can't do any more than we have. The ranch is our home now; that's where we belong."

*****

Axel was surprised at how easily he slipped out of the hospital. Using the butter knife he hid from dinner, the flimsy lock on his closet door was ridiculously easy to jimmy. He took his clothes into the bathroom to clean. Luckily, he was dressed in dark clothes on the day of the attack, so the blood stains weren't all that noticeable. Once he was dressed, he simply and casually walked out. He saw only two nurses in the dimly lit hall and smiled as he walked past. Dressed as he was, he figured they presumed him to be a maintenance man.

Once he got about half a mile down the road, he realized how stupid his great escape was. He was really starting to hurt and was still seven or eight miles from home. About the time he recognized his chances of making it were nill, a passing car slowed down and pulled over. By that time Axel was holding his stomach and walking bent over.

A young man stepped out of the driver's side of the car. "Mister, do you need help?"

After what he'd been through, Axel wasn't sure if the young man's intentions were altruistic or sinister, but he was in no shape to be vigilant. "I... I could use a ride," he managed to eke out through the pain.

The young man rushed over and helped support him while they slowly walked to the car. Once they were both settled, the young man asked where he wanted to go. Axel gave him the address and they pulled back onto the road.

"My name is Denny," the young man announced, "are you going to be okay? The hospital is the other way; I could turn around and take you."

"No, no, I'll be fine. I just need to lie down and rest for a while."

When they got to his house, Denny helped him up the stairs. Axel limped over to a desk drawer where he kept a little cash for emergencies and offered the young man twenty dollars but he refused it. "Are you sure you'll be all right?" he asked. "I really think you should be in the hospital.

"No, I'll be fine," he reiterated. "You're a lifesaver though, thank you."

As soon as Denny reluctantly left, Axel dropped down on the bed while still in his clothes. He was out like a light in minutes.

It was after eight o'clock when he opened his eyes to a new day. His stomach was still sore, but not nearly as bad as it had been. He took it slow, but was determined to get into a nice, relaxing, warm shower; after which he felt almost like a new man, at least physically.

He made himself a pot of coffee and sat at the kitchen table to evaluate the rest of his life. There wasn't much to it. He hated his job. The only reason he worked there was the money, it paid well. He could give his wife and daughter a good life.

He looked over the breakfast counter and into the living room--did he want to stay in the house? No, every corner of every room held too many memories, it would be sheer torture to remain. Everything he ever loved was now gone. There was absolutely nothing to keep him there.

He saw the envelope on the table. It was addressed to him in his daughter's handwriting. He didn't need to open it; he could guess what it said, she was sorry, she still loved him.. hollow words. If they were true, she wouldn't have left him.

So now what, he asked himself? He wondered if his car was still in the parking lot of that bar. He called for a cab and was pleasantly surprised to see it still there. He stopped by the bank on his way home and had to wade through a deluge of admiring customers and staff, all giving him the same line of bullshit about what a hero he was.

By the time he got back home, he had almost sixteen thousand dollars, a full tank of gas, and as far as he was concerned, no past and no future. Most of the stuff hanging in his closet was work attire, clothes that represented his old life, a life that had betrayed him, a life he would no longer seek.

He'd always heard, "No man is an island," but he was out to prove them wrong. He packed only casual clothes and his mom's and dad's wristwatches. Between the devastation of having his wife and daughter leave him, the stabbing and subsequent disappointment of surviving it, and his thorough disgust with life in general, he hadn't cried a single tear through any of it, but that changed as he got ready to leave for what he knew would be the last time.

He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't leave without taking a walk through the house. He stopped in the doorway of Carrie's room and looked inside. He remember all the times he carried her to bed and tucked her in before reading her a story. That's when the waterworks started.

The harder he cried, the more compelled he felt to suffer through the memories. He walked out to the backyard and patio where the three of them used to take turns feeding the chipmunks. He looked over to the big oak tree where he had built a swing for Carrie when she was only five. He was going to take it down a few years back but she wouldn't let him. He could hear her voice in his head, "No, Dad, I still swing on it sometimes when I have something important to think about."

The tears turned into sobs and he had to sit down in one of the patio chairs Julie talked him into buying.

Finally cried out, Axel took a deep breath to steady himself before walking back into the house. He picked up his suitcase and left through the front door. He was half a block down the street when he glanced into his rearview mirror and saw his wife's car pulling into their drive. He pressed a little harder on the accelerator and kept going.

*****

Jim was sitting at the dining room table with an empty glass apart from the melting ice cubes and half a bottle of Scotch when Carrie and her mother walked in. "Jim, it's barely noon."

"So, it's got to be five o'clock somewhere in the world," he replied.

Julie turned toward Carrie, "Are you hungry, Honey?"

"Not really, Mom, I think I'm just going to go lie down for a while."

Jim waited until Carrie had left. "Have you seen these videos? There's only one of him actually getting stabbed, but there're several of him being put on a stretcher and taken away. A couple of them show a good shot of his face," he said, while turning his laptop around so she could see.

The first video started just as Axel made contact with the first assailant's jaw. It appeared the second guy hit him in the side before he had a chance to turn around but Julie saw the knife as the attacker pulled it back out. She gasped and put her hand over her mouth when the first guy stabbed him in the stomach. "Oh, my God, I hope Carrie didn't see this. She said she saw a video, I hope it wasn't this one."

"Well, if she hasn't seen it yet I'm sure she will. A bunch of them have gone viral, they're all over the net.

"So, did you see him? When's he getting out of the hospital?"

"He's already out; he left last night without anyone knowing it. The doctor gave me some meds for him. I thought sure he'd be at the house, but he wasn't there. Some of his clothes are missing, too. I have no idea where he'd go."

"Good, maybe if he disappears people will forget about him."

"JIM, that's a terrible thing to say. What about Carrie? She's still loves him you know."

"Honey, my job depends on my likability in front of the camera. If this gets out, I could not only lose my job, I could lose my career. I could wind up on some local station in Podunk Junction someplace."

"Oh, stop, you know that's not going to happen. You're the second most watched anchor in Chicago, for Pete's sake."

"You ever hear the term, 'Fame is fleeting?' Believe me when I tell you it's true." Just then, his phone rang. He looked at the display. "It's Bob from the station, hopefully, it's good news."

He tapped the connect button. Julie could only hear his side of the conversation. "Hi, Bob, what's up?... Yeah, I know, Julie just got back from the hospital... No, she went to the house but he wasn't there... She said some of his clothes were missing, it sounds like he took off for a while... she has no idea... Bob, if his wife doesn't know where he is, how the hell would I know?... For how long?... Shit!... Okay, well keep in touch, let me know when things start to die down... Yeah, okay, bye."

He looked over at Julie who was wondering what it was all about. "Well, word is out. Tim, our reporter who was at the hospital, finally got someone to tell him about your husband's daring escape," he sarcastically told her.

"Okay, what's that mean for you?"

Jim had a worried look on his face when he answered. "It means they want me to take some time off, just until things die down, he said."

"Okay, well, that's not bad, is it? Maybe we can go somewhere, take a vacation; it might take Carrie's mind off things for a while. The school seemed pretty sympathetic, I don't think they'd mind if she took a week off."

"What about Chandler, what's he supposed to do while we're all gone?"

"His grades are good enough to take a week off."

"We're not taking a vacation," he replied with a touch of anger. "If the station calls, I need to be ready to go right in."

"I just think it would..."

"The answer is no," he retorted with more anger. "Besides, Carrie's first riding lesson is this Saturday. She'll love that and I'm sure it'll take her mind off of things for a while."

Julie didn't like the way she was being talked to, but wasn't in any position to do anything about it, so she let it drop.

As soon as word leaked out that Axel had escaped the hospital in the middle of the night, every reporter within a hundred miles of Chicago knew there was more story to tell than just him getting stabbed.

Why would he escape like that?... Was it a set up... a mob hit maybe... why would he disappear... was he wanted by the law... who was he running from... why couldn't they find his wife... why wasn't she waiting for him at the house... was she with him or was she the one who took out the contract on him?

A good mystery is like catnip to a reporter. They staked out his house, but it was a lost cause. Several investigative reporters started researching but kept running into a brick wall.

It was a blogger playing a long shot who broke the first lead. He went to the bar where it all started and found the bartender who was there when it happened.

"Excuse me, I understand you were here when that guy got stabbed last week."

"Yeah, he was here for a good couple hours. I feel bad; I was the one who told him to leave. He'd already had four beers. By rights, I shouldn't have let him go but he seemed okay to drive. If I'd let him stay for one more he wouldn't have gotten stabbed."

"Yeah, but don't forget, he saved that woman, so you probably saved a life."

The bartender smiled, "Yeah, I guess that's a possibility."

The blogger pulled a business card from his wallet and handed it to him. "My name's Walter Frey, I'm a reporter."

The bartender shook his hand. "I'm Jack."

"I guess you heard the guy disappeared."

"Yeah, although it doesn't really surprise me that much."

"Why do you say that?"

"He was drowning his sorrows that day. I thought I'd try and cheer him up some so I asked him why he was so down. It took me a little while to get him to talk but he finally told me his wife and daughter ran off with another man."

This was just the kind of story he was hoping for, and it explained a lot. "How old is his daughter?"

"He didn't say but it sounded like she was probably a teenager."

"Shit, Jack, that's really rough."

"Yeah, I could just tell, his daughter was the apple of his eye."

"Damn, that had to hurt. Did he say who the other guy was?"

"No, I don't think he really knew. He did mention that the guy owned a ranch somewhere around here."

"A ranch... like a cowboy kind of ranch—yippie-ki-yay and all that?"

"I have no idea... I guess, but people who have horses around here usually say they own stables, not a ranch. Ranch is more of a Western term, so maybe the guy's from out west somewhere."

"Sounds like a possibility," the reporter responded. "Did he say anything about how he and his wife were getting along... before she ran off, I mean?"

"No, not really. To me, it sounded like the guy was completely blindsided. He said he came home from work to find his wife and daughter packing. When he asked what was going on, his wife told him she'd fallen in love with another man and she and his daughter were leaving to go live with him on his ranch. That was about it."

"Hmmm, I'm going to check around. I appreciate your help. Do me a favor will you, if you think of anything else, give me a call; the number's on the card."

"Will do," Jack replied.

Well, it wasn't much to go on, but he got some insight into the situation. It sounded like Axel just wanted to run away, and he couldn't say he blamed him, especially if he was completely blindsided as the bartender said.

As soon as he got back to his home office, Walter started searching for ranches in the Chicago area and was surprised to find a site called, 'The ten best ranches in Chicago,' but when he clicked on each one individually, they all called themselves either a horse farm or stables. Only one actually called itself a ranch. Well, he thought, it's as good a place to start as anywhere else.

After making the forty-five-minute drive, he discovered the place was owned by an elderly couple and their thirty-something daughter. He asked a few questions but knew from the start he was wasting his time. "Back to the drawing board," he told himself as he got back into his car for the drive back home.

*****

All week long, the atmosphere was very somber at the J Bar C Ranch. Jim was worried about his job, Julie was worried about Carrie, Carrie was worried about her father, and Chandler was pissed about the whole situation and was wishing his dad had never met Julie.

Things turned even worse for Carrie when her riding instructor showed up Saturday morning. Her blond hair was pulled back into a ponytail that stuck out from under her black Stetson. The brim of her western hat provided shade, but couldn't hide the sparkle of her blue eyes. Her boy's style plaid shirt stuck out in front just far enough and was tucked into the small waist of her tight fitting Levis. She was about as cute as a person could be, certainly cute enough to catch the eye of Chandler. He jumped off the front porch and approached as soon as she stepped out of the car. "Hi, can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm Cheyenne Benett, I'm here to give riding lessons to... " she dug a piece of paper out of her top shirt pocket and unfolded it, "Carrie Brolin, is that you?"

"No, I'm Chandler," he said while sticking out his hand. "An older lady taught my dad and me how to ride a few years ago."

"Yeah, that was my mom. She wasn't feeling well this morning so I'm afraid you're stuck with me today.",

"Damn," he said, widening his already big grin, "I could probably use a refresher course."

She smiled but decided to ignore the come-on line. "So, where do I find Carrie?"

"She's in the house. I'll get her."

Carrie was watching from the window and seething with jealousy. Chandler stood at the bottom of the stairs and called up to her room, "Carrie, your riding instructor is here."

"I'll be right down," she replied.

Chandler hurried back outside. "She'll be out in a couple of minutes. I have her horse and another saddled up. Let me bring them out for you." He quickly walked to the stables and led two nice looking quarter horses out by the reins. "This is Carrie's horse, Destiny. This one is her mom's. Dad gave them both horses and said they could name them, but Julie just calls hers Horse," he said with a laugh.

"She doesn't want to learn to ride?" Cheyenne asked.

"Naw, she's not into it at all. If Horse even starts to walk fast she panics."

Just then, Carrie came walking outside and approached. "Here comes Carrie now," he said. "Carrie, this is Cheyenne, she's going to teach you to ride." Carrie's greeting was unenthusiastic, but Cheyenne just chalked it up to being nervous. She checked the saddles and made sure everything was cinched up properly, then waited for Carrie to mount up before hopping up on Horse.

They started out slowly, with Cheyenne keeping an eye on Carrie's posture and telling her to keep her pelvis straight a few times. Carrie had to admit, after the hour-long lesson, she felt more comfortable in the saddle. Of course, Chandler was waiting when they returned. "So, how did it go?" He addressed Cheyenne rather than Carrie.

"It went well, she's a good student. I'll have her riding like Annie Oakley in no time," she replied with a smile.

"I thought Annie Oakley was a sharpshooter," Chandler replied with his broad grin.

"She was, but she shot all those flying plates in the air while riding bareback."

Carrie dismounted and handed the bridle to Chandler. She looked toward Cheyenne and thanked her for the lesson before going back into the house. Chandler wondered about her attitude. "Did she really do okay?"