Leave a Trail (Signal Bend #7)(118)

“Be that as it may. Len and I vote last. On the question of whether Seaver’s debt is paid. ‘Aye’ says it is.”

Show, Badger, Dom, Tommy, Zeke, and Double A all voted ‘Aye.’ Then Len and Isaac did the same.

“Okay, brothers. We got one last piece of business. It’s time for me to step down. Len, too. We can’t hold our offices from inside a prison three hundred miles away. We’ll be gone too long for this to be an interim change. I am handing over the gavel today. Show is my choice for successor.” His grin was sardonic and sad. “Had to beat him unconscious to get him to agree. But it needs a vote. First, we should hear Show’s choice for officers to sit with him.”

Show nodded. “Gotta admit, I’ve been remiss. I don’t want this office. I don’t like the reason I would take it. So I haven’t asked anyone to sit up here with me. But I’ve thought about who I’d want. And if they’ll sit with me, I think we can manage not to f*ck up what we helped Isaac build all these years. Tommy —I’d like you to have my back as SAA.”

Badger thought Tommy was a good pick. He was bull strong and watchful. He wasn’t a big thinker, but he paid attention to his surroundings, and he was damn good in a fight. Tommy was clearly surprised, but he nodded. “Yeah, Show. I got your back.”

Zeke was the right choice for VP, and Badger waited to hear his name. He was quiet, and Badger couldn’t see Show and him having the easy rhythm Show and Isaac had always had, but he had thirty or more years of experience. And he was smart and steady.

But Show turned to Badger. “Badge. Be my VP.”

“What?” Despite all the talk in the past several months about him being ‘the future of the Horde,’ Badger hadn’t expected anything like an officer position for years. He was the ‘little brother.’ Even now, with Double A the youngest patch and Dom the smallest, he was still ‘little brother.’

Isaac answered. “It’s a good choice. You’re smart, Badge. You think far, play things out. You’ve got a good heart. And you’re tough. You’ve been through the shit, and you came through it strong. You’re a lot like Show.”

Show laughed. “I was gonna tell him his was a lot like you.”

Badger remained speechless, managing only, “But…”

“I was twenty-seven when I took this gavel. Double A’s age when I took the VP patch. You’re the right choice, Badge. I told you I think you’re destined for this seat. This is a step on that path. I’d feel good knowing you and Show were at the head.”

“Show?”

“Wouldn’t’ve asked if I wasn’t sure, brother. You’re my choice.”

“Okay. Okay.”

Isaac grinned sadly. “Let’s vote it, then. All those in favor of Show taking the gavel and becoming the official third President of the Night Horde Motorcycle Club of Missouri.”

Unanimous.

Isaac stood and took his kutte off. Laying it on the table, he pulled his blade and sliced the threads that had bound the President patch to his chest. Len stood and did the same to his Sergeant at Arms patch.

Badger and all his brothers looked on sadly.

When Isaac’s patch was free, the tatters of threads making a frail fringe around its blood-red border, he laid it on the gavel, shrugged his now lighter kutte back on, and stepped away from the seat at the head of the table he’d built.



oOo



The second day of January was clear and bitter cold. A hard frost was still on the ground, glazing the remnants of the Christmas snow into a crisp, glassy crust. The whole Horde family stood on the clubhouse lot, saying goodbye to two of their own.

What they were doing had saved the Horde, and probably Signal Bend, too. They were free of the blood and death, of the danger and fear for their loved ones. Isaac and Len had offered themselves up as a kind of penance for mistakes and deeds for which they were all responsible. They had tried to make something good from something bad. Because Isaac and Len were going away, they had succeeded. But the cost was high.

Badger, wearing his new Vice President patch and feeling it like a searing ache in his chest, stood back a bit with his arm around Adrienne’s shoulders. He’d said his goodbye to his President and to his mentor.

Show was in the van, the engine running, waiting to drive them to St. Louis, where they would surrender at least six years of their freedom.

Isaac and Len were saying goodbye to their most intimate family—their old ladies, Isaac’s children. Len and Tasha were standing at the side of the van, wrapped up so tightly that, were it not for Tasha’s ginger hair, it would be hard to see where one started and the other ended.

Isaac squatted in his odd way near the passenger door, both of his children in his arms. Bo was only three and did not understand. He’d given his father a cursory hug and now was trying to extricate himself from Isaac’s arms.

Gia was five and smarter than her age. While she might not have understood all of it, she clearly understood enough. She’d laid her head on Isaac’s shoulder and would not let go. When Isaac finally went to stand, Bo skipped away, relieved, but Gia had to be pried away, crying, “No, Daddy! No! No!”

Lilli stood there with her head down. Shannon came and collected a wailing Gia. She kissed Isaac’s cheek and led his daughter inside, grabbing Bo’s hand as she went and taking him along, too. Isaac watched them go until the clubhouse door closed between him and his children.