The Long Way Home

Chapter 2: Jameson

I listened as someone ran down the side of my trailer. I could hear men yelling and the sound of boots in the gravel. I peered out the window by my bed as she appeared from under the gooseneck of the trailer and side stepped her way down the side of the camper, past the front door, stopping just past the tack room door. A soft beep sounded in the camper as she pulled open the tack room door and climbed inside. Judging from the way she kept looking over her shoulder, she was running from someone. Most likely the men with the flashlights, weaving through the rows of cattle trailers on the other side of mine. I sighed and dragged on my jeans that were laying in the floor by the bed before pulling my pistol from the drawer of the bedside cabinet and tucking it in the back of the waistband of my jeans.

Within only a couple of minutes, the men who I assumed were after her were at the door to my camper, beating on the side of the camper as if they were trying to tear it down. I cursed and grumbled, making it sound like they had interrupted my sleep.

At my door stood 4 men dressed in dark clothes, carrying mag lights and obviously armed. These weren't run of the mill truckers. These men dealt in cargo worth more than 3 ply toilet paper and bananas. "You better have a good damn reason for waking me up at 2 AM."

The tallest, in the middle of the group looked to his buddy. "I'm looking for a woman who stole my computer case from the cab of my truck. I'm so very sorry for dragging you from your sleep." He wasn't sorry.

"If you think she took it, what makes you think I would have anything to do with it?" I asked him, folding my arms over my chest.

He stammered. "She- she disappeared into this group of trailers, sir. And your trailer is the only one we can't see into with just our flashlights." He paused and looked over at his comrade again. I knew he could sense how annoyed I was with them. "She was small, thin, red colored hair... Looked pretty dirty, most likely strung out. Probably a prostit-"

His rambling was getting on my last nerve. I cut him off. "So you're telling me it takes 4 of you to come after a lot lizard with sticky fingers?" I couldn't help but snort. He apparently didn't like that. His tone changed pretty quickly.

"Listen." He snapped. "Just let us take a look around in here and we'll be out of your hair."

I raised an eyebrow and squared my shoulders back. "You can lose that attitude of yours and take a step back. The only place she could have hidden in this trailer is in the tack closet. The lock only works half the time anyway." I took a step over to the sofa and slipped my feet into my slides. "Let me get some shoes on."

I prayed to myself silently that she had found a place to hide. Once outside, I pulled the door to the tack room open and flipped on the light. Everything was in it's place aside from one of my saddle blankets that was haphazardly crammed under the coat rack. No one who wasn't familiar with the way I kept things organized would know that it wasn't where it was supposed to be. I turned back to look at the men outside. "See, not a soul in here."

They all four took turns peering inside the tack room with their flashlights, eyeing everything suspiciously. "Fine." The leader finally said with a sigh. "If you see her..." He began.

"I will personally deliver her to you, with your bag intact." I quickly dropped my smile. "Now leave."

The men scattered as quickly as they arrived-like rats. I let out a long breath and made my way back out the way I came. I wanted to make sure they were gone and weren't watching the camper too closely. I climbed back into the camper and locked the door behind me, pulling the shade over the window on the door. I headed back through, to the bathroom  and the second entrance to the tack room.

I slid the door between them open and stepped in. "Hey." I said softly. "You're safe. They're gone. I won't let them touch you." After several long seconds there was still no response. I knelt by the coat rack and pushed the clothes aside.

Pressed firmly against the wall with eyes the size of saucers, full of fear, sat the thin, bruised, shell of a woman. She stared up at me with crystal clear pale eyes and pupils as wide as tractor tires. She was under the influence of something. Most likely something those men had given her. Keeping their sex workers under the influence and eventually dependent on drugs was one way of making sure they couldn't leave.

"I'll get you some clean clothes and find something for you to eat. I'm sure you're starving. Come on out..." I held my hand out to her and smiled softly as she took it after close to a minute of waiting, staring at my hand. She was weak and looked utterly exhausted.

She followed me through the bathroom and into the kitchenette where I pulled out some leftover rice and steak and some tortillas. I popped it in the microwave. "You eat while I look for something for you to wear for the time being. Once you've eaten, I'll show you how the water works in the bathroom and you can get a shower."I pulled out the styrofoam container and passed it to her with a disposable fork.

She eyed me suspiciously in between bites as I dug through the laundry basket of clean clothes, looking for some sweats or some basket ball shorts that would fit her. When I found what I needed, I brought them and a clean towel to her.

"What do you want out of me?" She asked me, twisting the top off of the water bottle I slid to her. Her hands shook lightly as she brought it to her mouth. Withdrawal... I thought to myself.

"Nothing. Just trying to do the right thing." I replied. "What were you doing out this late, running from those men? I didn't see you carrying any bags like they said. Why were you running?"

She just shook her head and went back to what was left her food. I cursed myself in my head. Too soon. I had my suspicions, but I wasn't going to push her any further about it.

"At least tell me your name." I sighed.

She put her fork down and folded her hands on the table top. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, each waiting for the other to make a move, say something, do anything. She watched me, analyzed me, her pale blue eyes searching my face for some hint of my intentions. Finally she let out a tired sigh. "Caroline." She said flatly.  "My name is Caroline."

"Well, Miss Caroline, it's nice to meet you." I gave her a broad smile. "My name is Jameson. But most everybody just calls me Jame."