The Blastlands Saga

by DK Williamson

  “He doesn’t have room in his rucksack, Bob,” Bill quipped, causing Bob to chuckle.

  “That’s funny, Bill, I’ll have to remember that,” replied Greely. “We can board her if you like, Ranger.”

  “I’ll think about it, but I’m not really looking to buy,” Jack replied.

  “Well, let me know if you change your mind. A fine horse. I’ll see that Jenny gets groomed and tacked up for you.”

  Jenny, you have got to be kidding me, Jack thought.

  “Bill, I have something you’ll like. Come with me.”

  . . . . .

  An hour later they were on the road to the Deva State and Jack found himself annoyed. Jenny was a fine horse, calm and well mannered, trained to respond to voice commands and had picked up Jack’s body language quickly. Jack knew if she continued to impress he’d be spending some money. Apparently if it’s long-legged, female, and named Jennifer, I’ll fall for her.

  The route meandered through the dense Ozark woods as the hilly terrain dictated, the trees forming a veritable wall along each side. Jack could identify oaks, Loblolly pines, hickory, walnut, Osage-orange, sassafras, elderberry trees, and more, with many species unknown to him. Beautiful country, but an easy place to get ambushed.

  At a point roughly halfway between Seligman and the Deva State, the road curved sharply to the left. As the two travelers rounded the bend, they could see a wagon with a man and a woman aboard held at gunpoint by two men wielding pistols about a hundred and fifty yards ahead.

  Jack and Bill stopped. “Stay here, Bill. If things get messy, head back to Seligman.”

  “What are you going to do, Jack?”

  “My job,” Jack said coldly, keeping his eyes on the scene ahead. He sighed and glanced at Carson. “Sorry, Bill. I shouldn’t use that tone of voice with you. I aim to stop them, as soon as the wagon gets clear.”

  “Okay, Jack. I’ll pull back and watch around the edge of the tree line. Remember, this isn’t really in the Freelands or the Deva State. You be careful.”

  “I know. I’m going to try and run them off, and I will be careful, thanks.”

  Bill quietly rode his horse back around the corner while Jack put his Kalashnikov across the saddle in front of him and watched as the couple on the wagon handed a small bag to the two road bandits. The thugs put their pistols in their waistbands and gestured for the wagon to move, which they did, rolling on toward the Deva State.

  Jack signaled Jenny to walk and as she did so, he rotated the safety lever on his rifle to semi auto. As he neared the two men one of them yelled, “You gotta stop and pay the toll.”

  “What toll would that be?” Jack asked as his horse continued to close with the men.

  “A road toll, mister,” said the other thug, his face cloaked in a dark, heavy beard.

  “There are no tolls on this road,” Jack said as he turned Jenny to the right and halted her as he shouldered his rifle and brought it to bear on the two bandits. “Ranger. Hands up. Now!”

  “You said they was all gone today,” said the smooth-faced bandit as he raised his hands.

  “They were supposed to be,” the bearded one replied. “What are you gonna do with us, Ranger?”

  “Shut it. Bearded man, very slowly place your pistol on the ground in front of you using your left hand, then walk slowly backwards ten steps.” Jack had noticed both men had been holding their pistols in their right hands earlier, and had placed them in their pants as a right-handed person would, that is, butt toward the right hip.

  The bearded bandit complied and Jack had the other man repeat the process, then ordered the pair to turn until their backs were toward him. Jack dismounted and secured the two pistols in a saddlebag. He then had the two bandits empty their pockets and pouches of what little contents they held.

  “That small bag there. Is that what you took from the wagon?” Jack asked.

  “Yes. It’s all we got today. Thought there’d be more traffic, and no Rangers,” said the smooth-faced bandit as he glared at his partner.

  “You leave that. The rest of your stuff you pick up and get out of here. I see you again and I start putting bullet holes in you. Understand?”

  “What about our guns?” asked the bearded one.

  “If you can’t play nice, you lose the iron. Rules of the game.”

  “Where are we supposed to go?” asked the smooth-faced bandit.

  “I’m going to the Deva State, then back to Seligman. I see you either place or anywhere in between, you know what happens. Now get!” Jack barked.

  The two bandits trotted down the road to the northeast and turned right down a side road went southeast and disappeared from sight.

  Ol’ Carson saw the bandits run away and moved up to join Jack. “I’m no expert, but I’d say that was well done, Jack.”

  “I hope so, Bill. I’m a little concerned they’ll try again as soon as we get clear of here.”

  “Do you want to wait and see?”

  “No, let’s catch up to the two people on the wagon and return this to them,” Jack said holding up a bag that felt and sounded like it was full of coins, “then I’ll swing back down here and see if they stayed gone.”

  “Okay. What if they do come back?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.”

  The two men coaxed their mounts into a trot and headed up the road. Less than a mile ahead they caught up to the pair on the wagon. The couple looked back and saw the riders approaching, then slowed their horses to a stop. As Jack and Bill stopped alongside, the man on the wagon asked, “Did you get hit by those robbers?”

  “No, sir. We ran them off. I believe this is yours,” Jack said as he tossed the bag to the man.

  “I’ll be. Thanks mister! This is a week’s worth of work,” he said holding up the bag. “Can I give you a reward or something?”

  “No, sir. Rangers don’t take or collect rewards.”

  “I didn’t see the star. I heard all the Rangers was out today. Glad you came along.”

  “Glad to be of service. Bill, I’ll meet you at the gate in a little while if that’s okay with you. I want to go see if those guys actually left.”

  “All right, Jack. I’ll tell the police in the Deva State what happened. Maybe they’ll send some help.”

  “Thanks, Bill. Sir, Ma’am,” Jack said as he turned Jenny back down the road and trotted away.

  “God bless you, Ranger,” the woman on the wagon shouted as he rode off.

  Jack arrived a short time later at the side road where the bandits turned off. He dismounted with his rifle and began looking for signs in the dirt left by the two men.

  He found two sets of tracks. One made by a pair of flat-soled shoes and the other by a pair of boots with textured soles and elevated heel. Jack suspected the heeled boots belonged to the bearded bandit, but he wasn’t sure. Be more observant next time, he thought.

  Jack led his horse as he followed the tracks. About a quarter of a mile down the road the tracks led off into the woods to the right. Jack tethered Jenny to a nearby tree and walked up the tree line looking for spoor indicating where the bandits might have gone. Jenny snorted and Jack looked to his rear to see if something was wrong with the horse and saw the bearded bandit coming out of the woods diagonally across the road armed with a double-barreled shotgun.

  The two men saw one another at the same time. Jack turned as he brought his rifle to his shoulder and fired just as the bandit fired at him. Buckshot pellets buzzed a few feet over Jack’s head while the round from Jack’s rifle struck the bandit in the face, just to the left of his nose, killing him.

  From behind a voice called out, “Ranger! He was looking to go to Deva State and kill you. I didn’t have anything to do with it. I’m leaving. You ain’t gonna see me no more.”

  Jack could see the smooth-faced bandit at the edge of the trees about two hundred yards away and answered in a shout, “Fair enough.”

  He watched the man disappear into t
he woods. Jack walked the fifty feet it took to stand beside Jenny and said, “Thanks for the warning, girl.” He rubbed her neck and she snorted and bobbed her head. That tears it. I’m spending some money. “Let me pick up Mr. Idiot’s shotgun and we’ll get out of here. How’d you like to go to Geneva?”

  Several minutes later Jack caught up to the couple on the wagon and slowed Jenny to a walk to match the wagon’s pace. When asked, Jack told them what happened.

  “Ranger, I didn’t catch your name. I’m Cleat Perkins and this is my wife Zoe.”

  “I’m Jack Traipse. It’s a pleasure.”

  “Your friend Carson, he took off to see if he could get you some help. Guess you didn’t need it though.”

  “I guess not, but even so, going it alone is risky. You folks live in the Deva State?” Jack asked.

  “Sure do, but we go to Seligman once a week or more. The road is usually safe, but there are so few Rangers down Seligman way and the state police are short handed, so there are less patrols out now. Why so few Rangers?”

  “There’s an emergency situation down in the Kings Town area.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Hey, there’s some state police,” Cleat said pointing up the road at a pair of Deva State Police on horseback with Bill Carson following along.

  “Ho, Ranger!” one of the state police yelled. “Any trouble?”

  “I had to kill a bandit down the side road a mile or so back,” Jack replied, lowering his voice as they neared while gesturing over his shoulder back down the road.

  “This is the third or fourth time in two weeks this has happened. Maybe you fixed the problem. We’re so short-handed these days we can’t maintain regular patrols, and you Rangers are even worse off than us, I guess. It’s probably a good time to be a bandit or raider,” said the policeman.

  “Ain’t that the truth,” replied the other Deva State policeman. “What did this guy you killed look like?”

  “Average height, white, with a dark beard almost as big as he was.”

  “That sounds right. Our Chief would probably like to talk to you. Ask the gate guards where to go. We’re gonna head down and check the body. See you folks later,” he said, then the two policemen rode off.

  “If you won’t take a reward, maybe you’d accept a dinner invite?” Zoe asked Jack.

  “We were going to try and get back to Seligman before dark, otherwise we’d take you up on that, ma’am” Jack replied.

  “You could stop by and have a piece of pie.”

  “She looks like a good cook to me, Jack,” Bill said. “I don’t see how we can refuse.”

  “You’re right, Bill, and I do like pie.”

  Bill and Jack rode alongside the couple on their wagon to the Deva State. The gatehouse that provided entrance into the city-state was an impressive forty feet tall, equipped with two machine gun towers. The guard contingent was composed of local militia and Deva State Police.

  Jack told the guards of the two policemen who went to check on the body. They repeated the same thing Jack had been told before, “Our Chief would probably like to talk to you,” and gave him directions to the chief’s location.

  Jack decided to delay meeting the Chief of Police until a bit later, there was pie to be eaten after all. Cleat and Zoe led Carson and Jack into the Domestic Sector—the name of the area on high ground overlooking the Roaring River, where most of the Deva States’ permanent residents lived—and to their home, a tasteful two-story brick house.

  The kitchen was full of canning jars, with most of them filled with jams and jellies, and a few with vegetables, primarily pickles. An inquiry by Bill led to the disclosure that this was the Perkins’ business, canned goods.

  Zoe invited them to the dining room, and very shortly mulberry pie was served. Bill and Jack were of the opinion it was the finest mulberry pie they had ever tried.

  Jack decided to go pay the Chief of Police a visit, while Bill said he wanted to discuss a little business with the Perkins couple and he’d wait for Jack here, then they could go and conclude their business about the extremophiles.

  Jack walked to the police station, leaving Jenny at the Perkins place after recovering the bandits’ weapons and taking them along. When he arrived he discovered the two policemen he met outside town had returned and had just concluded a meeting with the Chief. They led him into the office and introduced him to Chief Wainwright, then left.

  “I don’t think we’ve met before, Ranger. You new to Seligman?” the chief asked as he gestured to the chairs in front of his desk.

  “No, Chief. I’m assigned to Geneva,” he replied as he took a seat, noting the chief seemed a bit suspicious.

  “A ways off your beat. Here on business, I assume. That’s fine. Since I don’t know you, I need to know what kind of Ranger you are. Most Rangers that come here do just fine. They don’t cause trouble, do their business, and leave. Some though, well... they think a Ranger star gives them license to do what they want, wherever they want, and that don’t fly here. So’s I got to ask, which kind are you?”

  “Chief, I’m the kind that knows this is not the Freelands and I’m pretty much a private citizen while I’m here. I’m not here to cause trouble,” Jack replied very matter-of-factly.

  “Good to hear! You look like a bright fellow, good attitude, we’ll get on fine. Those boys of mine you met outside the walls earlier confirmed that bandit you killed was the one who has been causing trouble the last couple o’ weeks. There’s reward money on him,” the chief said.

  “I can’t take a reward, Chief Wainwright. Rangers aren’t allowed.”

  “I thought as much. Still, you have my gratitude. I understand they robbed Cleat and Zoe?”

  “That’s correct, Chief. About halfway between here and Seligman. They knew there were no Rangers at the Seligman post, so they thought it a good time to take up toll collecting.”

  Chief Wainwright laughed, “They didn’t count on you though. Good enough for them. The gate guards tell me the Perkins got their money back, good on you. It’s a rotten time to be short-handed, the damned rads have decided Radium Spring to the southeast of us is a holy site so they’ve added it to their pilgrimage list. That’s what some of Seligman’s Rangers are out looking into. Bad timing, that’s what it is.

  “But enough of my bellyaching. You do what you need to, but a bit of advice,” Jack nodded and Wainwright continued, “keep the Ranger star covered up. Things will go smoother when dealing with some of the rougher denizens around here.”

  “Will do, Chief. Thank you. What do I do with the weapons the bandits were carrying?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. Keep’em.”

  “I’m not sure I—”

  The chief smiled. “A conscientious sort. Good trait in a Ranger. Leave them here. Maybe the militia can use them. Take care, Ranger.”

  Jack laughed. “Will do, Chief.”

  Jack stood, taking Chief Wainwright’s proffered hand. He left the bandit’s weapons with a sergeant at the front desk, and then returned to the Perkins place where he found Bill and Cleat talking on the front porch. Bill smiled when he saw Jack and said, “That didn’t take long. It looks like I’m going to be doing business with these folks.”

  “Distributing high quality canned goods throughout the Freelands, eh?” Jack quipped.

  “Ha! I might just steal that from you, Jack. You ready to go meet Yuri and Gregori?”

  “I’m ready anytime you are, Bill. Mr. Perkins, thank you for your hospitality. Please thank your wife for me.”

  “I will, Jack. We’ll always be beholding to you and you’ll always have a place here,” Cleat replied. “Might I suggest you leave your horses here? You can leave them in the corral out back. The Russians are usually in the Longbranch Saloon, one of the nicer places in the red light district, but it is in the red light district. If somebody’s gonna steal a horse in Deva, nine times out of ten it happens there.”

  “Thank you, Cleat. We’ll take you up on that offer,” Carson
said. “We’ll be back in just a bit.”

  . . . . .

  Bill and Jack walked to the exit gate that would take them from the Domestic Sector to the red light district. One of the state policemen—a balding man in his early thirties—gestured for them to come to him. “Ol’ Carson, ain’t seen you in awhile.”

  “Smitty! Yes it’s been a long time. Good to see you,” Carson replied.

  “I heard you was in town. You the Ranger?” he asked as he looked at Jack.

  “That’s right.”

  “Word’s out about you. I doubt anyone knows what you look like, but they know you’re with Bill.”

  “That’s not good. Is there likely to be trouble?” Jack asked.

  “Probably not, but you never know with some of these folks. There’s more than a few of’em that are just flat-out crazy. Just wanted you to know so you could be on the lookout.”

  “Thank you, Smitty. Would it be better for Bill and I to separate, or would that endanger him?”

  “That ain’t a bad idea. I’ll get somebody to cover for me here and I’ll walk with Bill. You go on ahead. Be back shortly.” Smitty turned and went into a nearby doorway.

  “Can you find the Longbranch okay, Jack?” asked Bill.

  “I have a general idea where it is. I assume it has a sign.”

  “Yep, in four foot high letters. Go down a ways and take the first corner to the right. At the end of the street on the right side is the Longbranch. I’ll come in after you and find a place nearby in case you need me. Gregori can be a bit... difficult sometimes,” he said.

  Jack gave a perplexed look and said, “Difficult? What does that mean exactly?”

  “He likes to push people’s buttons. Yuri generally keeps him from going too far.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. See you inside then.”

  Jack, slung his rifle over his left shoulder with the muzzle pointed down and passed through the gate which led to a walkway. The walkway was seventy feet long and thirty feet wide with fifteen foot high walls on each side that led to the entrance of the red light district. Deva State police looked down from each side of the walls.