Leave a Trail (Signal Bend #7)(63)

Sometimes he thought Isaac, Show, and Len understood that. But he also saw their nostalgia. He didn’t have nostalgia. His life was before him. Maybe that’s what the Horde needed to overcome their troubles. A vision for the future.

Their errand in St. Louis, though, was very much a visit to the past. Kenyon Berry, a former associate of the Horde and erstwhile leader of the defunct Underdawgs crew, and a personal friend to Isaac, was on his deathbed, and they’d come to say goodbye.

Badger didn’t know the man; he’d still only been prospecting when the Underdawgs were taken down in the wake left by Lawrence Ellis. Tommy had never heard of him before today. The two of them stayed in the hallway while Isaac and Len went into Kenyon’s hospital room. But after a while, Len opened the door and motioned for them to enter. With a quick glance between them, they went in.

Kenyon Berry was frail and thin, old enough, he looked, to be Isaac’s father. He had brown skin and a faint scruff of grey fuzz for hair. Wrapped in a stretched and pilled navy blue cardigan, with an oxygen tube in his nose, he looked like a man on his deathbed.

Isaac had been sitting in a chair at his bedside. When Badger and Tommy walked in with Len, he stood.

“Brothers, I’d like you to meet a great man. Kenyon Berry, this is Badger Ness and Tommy Nickels. My money’s on Badge to lead the Horde some day.”

Badger’s head swiveled so fast toward Isaac that his neck cracked audibly. “Boss?”

Isaac just gave him an enigmatic smile and nodded toward the man in the hospital bed. So Badger stepped forward, his hand extended. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Berry.”

The old man chortled weakly and then coughed. “Kenyon’ll do, son.” He gave Badger the once-over.

“Today is not the first day Isaac’s spoken of you. He speaks well. But I know you’ve had some troubles.”

Badger swiveled to Isaac again, a spike of rage shoving itself deeply through his spine.

But Kenyon put his hand up. “Easy, son. No confidences have been broken, I’m sure. I’ve had my skirmishes with cruel people, too. Use those memories. Don’t let them have you. Own them. Make them yours—wring strength from them. There’s power you can take from that evil, if you stay clear enough to see it.”

Badger nodded and said, “Yes, sir,” mainly because he was too befuddled by the exchange to do anything else. He felt like he’d been summoned to the Oracle or something, but he didn’t really know why he should care what this old man, this stranger, had to say to him. And Isaac saw him with the gavel? What the f*ck? They’d ripped his leather off his back four months ago—how the hell was he the future of the Horde?

He looked at Isaac, hoping to see something that would serve as an explanation, but Isaac was leaning over the bed, shaking Kenyon’s hand, his other hand on the old man’s narrow shoulder. Len turned and ushered him and Tommy out of the room again.

When they were in the hall, Badger asked, “What was that?”

“The boss is saying goodbye to an old friend.”

“No—with me, with us. Why were we in there? Why did he say that?”

Len shrugged and leaned against the wall. “Isaac respects that man. He’s given him knowledge and advice for a lot of years. I guess he wanted Kenyon to see that the Horde has a future. Because it’s true, brother. I see it, too. Not for a long time yet, but you’ve got a good head on your shoulders, when it’s not full of junk. You’ve got the will. And you’ve got the heart. The old man is right. We make the bad into something we can use. That’s how we’ve always gotten clear of our trouble. It’s experience. You can let it teach you, or you can let it warp you.”

Badger turned from Len to Tommy—who shrugged broadly. “Don’t look at me, man. I f*ckin’ know they’re not talkin’ to me. Only head I’ll ever be at is the one that flushes. And that’s how I like it.”



oOo



It was past dark when they finally left St. Louis for home. Badger’s head was abuzz on the rest of the ride. He knew that it would be decades before he’d even be an officer, much less lead the table, if he ever did. Isaac was in his mid-forties. But the thought that these men whom he admired so much, who awed him and intimidated him, whom he had let down so hard, saw him in that way—that thought shuffled everything he knew about himself and his club. And he felt a heavy weight of guilt, too. He’d been so angry and suspicious since the fall. He’d been absolutely convinced that his brothers were waiting for the chance to take him down. He’d been harboring hate in his heart, his love for his brothers going rotten.

It had been the Oxy, he knew, turning his head sour, making him see things wrong. But he did not feel worthy of their confidence. Not yet.

About ten miles from the county line, Isaac signaled to pull over, and did so immediately, onto the shoulder of the interstate. and the others followed suit. Isaac only pulled to the interstate shoulder if he had no choice—pulling off at the next ramp was the safer option. So everybody knew there was some kind of problem. When he pulled his phone out of his kutte pocket, they all waited on tenterhooks. Somebody had called him, Badger assumed. When they needed to reach a brother on the road immediately, they called twice and let it ring once each time, so the rider knew to pull off immediately.

Badger’s first thought was that Show had called, and there was trouble with Shannon and the babies.