B00C74WTKQ EBOK

by Tackitt, Lloyd

  “I had a ham stolen from my smoke house last night,” she said. “I’ve heard of chickens being stolen and other smoke houses broken into. I hope it’s not one of our villagers, or even worse, more than one of our villagers. That would be sad, because there isn’t a soul in this town that isn’t willing to help each other, there’s no need to steal from each other. But it could be one of ours doing it. It could also be that we’re getting hit by outsiders, someone living out in the brush and sneaking in. Not that I condone it, but I would almost prefer it. Stealing food is stealing life, it can’t be tolerated. We have to find a way to do something about it.”

  Tim said, “I’ve investigated most of these recent thefts and whoever it is, he’s careful not to leave a trail. He either hits during a rain storm that wipes out his traces, or waits until the ground is dry enough not to leave a trace. I’ll get Frank and his coon hound and see if his dog can pick up a trail from your place—it’s possible he left a scent. Frank will be here shortly.”

  Roman drummed his fingers on the table top distractedly. After a pause in the conversation he said, “I hate a thief worse than anything. If it’s a villager he’ll be banished. We can’t banish non-villagers though as by definition they’re already living outside our group. Tim, what exactly do we do if we catch outsiders stealing from us?”

  “We have the full range of options that our imaginations can come up with.” Tim said thoughtfully.

  Perry interjected, “That’s correct, we can do anything we need to. Outsiders are not protected by our rules since they don’t live here. What we want to consider is functionally stopping the thefts, not punishment for the purpose of correcting errant behavior. With a villager we want to mete out a punishment appropriate to the crime with the intent of reconstructing the offender’s behavior in such a way that the citizen earns full and complete participation in the community and the trust of the community. With an outsider we just want the stealing to stop.”

  “That could take many forms. We could simply execute him, and since he’s not a citizen a trial isn’t required. Strange as that sounds but we only have a very localized government, anyone outside of our jurisdiction, so to speak, has no rights or protections. Only if there was an overall government would that be the case. We could also just run him off with a warning, or we could bring him in as a prisoner and put him to work to make restitution and then run him off. Problem with that is we would end up feeding him more than he stole to start with, not very productive for us, and it would take too much manpower to guard him.”

  Tim said, “I hear Frank now. Anyone want to come along with us?”

  “Damn right I do.” Linda exclaimed. “I want to be part of whatever we do if we catch him, I can’t afford to be losing good food that way, and I’m pissed off.”

  Linda asked Sarah, “Would you mind keeping an eye on Scott for me? I’m not sure how long we’ll be gone and I don’t want him on this trip, too dangerous.”

  “Of course! He’s a joy to take care of, brightens my day to have him around. If you’re gone overnight, don’t worry about him, I’ll take good care of him.”

  “Thank you Sarah, you are a true blessing to us.” Turning to Scott she said, “Now you mind your Aunt Sarah just like you mind me—no mind her better than you mind me, and make yourself useful, take care of her chores while I’m gone.” She gave him a hug then a playful swat on the bottom as she turned to follow Frank and his hound.

  Linda, Roman, and Tim followed Frank to Linda’s smokehouse. Frank led his dog on a leash and walked around to the back of the little wooden building. Frank said, “If I was going to steal a ham, I’d come out of the woods yonder and keep the smokehouse between me and the big house, to keep from being seen. I’d come from the closest spot, too, walking in a straight line. I’ll take Brownie here and cut back and forth across that line, see if she picks up anything. If she does I’ll take her across it a few more times ’til she gets the idea that I want her to follow the trail. Y’all stay back a-ways at first so she isn’t distracted.”

  Frank led the dog beyond the smoke house and began working a zig-zag path towards the woods, hopefully crossing the thief’s trail with each zig and zag. Linda watched and saw that Brownie was getting more excited each time she crossed what Frank had assumed would be the thief’s path. In less than five crossings of the trail the dog was straining at the leash, trying to get back to the trail whenever Frank took her over and past it. Frank waved them to follow and then let Brownie follow the trail into the woods. She was straining at the leash, pulling hard while snuffling at the scent.

  Brownie raised her head to let out a trailing howl but Frank hushed her quickly. “Now Brownie, no talking. We don’t want this critter to hear us coming, alright girl?”

  Linda was amazed that Brownie obviously understood Frank’s instructions. That’s one damn smart dog, understands English. Brownie snuffled and grunted and even growled but didn’t let loose with her full voice or bark. Linda had heard Brownie howl more than once when on a trail and she had a beautiful deep voice. It always gave her pleasure to listen to it, but Frank was right—they didn’t want to announce their presence miles ahead of time.

  Brownie trailed the thief for several hours, not losing the trail or hesitating. Linda and the other men followed, all carrying slung rifles and holstered pistols. They had brought along a pack of food and two tarpaulins for shelter if needed. Tim carried his pack easily, even at sixty plus years he was in excellent condition. Roman and Linda carried the canteens. Frank carried one of Matt’s converted shotguns that were designed to instantly kill the largest of wild boars with just one shot. He was a tough old hunter, used to long trails in the deep woods, and not a man to trifle with. His shotgun, loaded with slugs, never left his left hand and the dog’s leash never left his right.

  Two hours before sunset, they were crossing a creek when a shot rang out and they dove to the ground. Frank was quickly back up and scrambling for cover with the rest of them when another shot from a different spot cracked the air.

  “Found them.” Frank said ruefully as they all hunkered behind cover. “At least two of ’em, anyway.”

  Lind asked with concern, “Are you hit?”

  “Yes’m, but only a scratch across my arm. Lucky thing, not bad at all.”

  Tim said, “Tie your dog off, Frank, so she doesn’t get hit when we go after them. They’ll want to shoot Brownie so they can escape. I’d rather not see that happen. Or maybe it’s best if you stay here or go back.”

  “I’ll tie her off,” Frank replied tightly. “No son-of-a-bitch shoots and me and gets away with it—hand me a canteen and I’ll fill her a bowl of water and leave her some food.” With that Frank pulled two bowls and a package of dog food from his own pack. He made Brownie comfortable then told her, “Stay still and be quiet, I’ll be back soon.” Brownie laid down and curled up comfortably.

  Once again Linda was amazed. Brownie understands and minds better than Scott.

  “Linda,” Tim continued, “you and Roman move to the left, try to spot and neutralize the man that fired from your side. Frank and I’ll go right and do the same. If anyone gets into trouble, sing out.”

  Linda said, “Roman let’s go over there and spread out about thirty yards and cross the creek in a rush at the same time, then join up again across the creek and work our way up the hill single file with me in front. When we spot our man we’ll spread out again, depending on the terrain, and get him in a cross-fire. Assuming the asshole hasn’t run away.”

  Roman whispered, “They won’t run knowing we have a trail dog, they have to stop us right here. Okay, let’s go.”

  They crawled into separate positions, spotting good crossing points for themselves. Linda looked over and saw that Roman was ready, she gave a hand signal and they burst out of the woods running, splashed across the creek and dove into cover again.
Two quick shots were fired at them but neither was hit, although Linda heard the sonic crack of a bullet only inches from her ear.

  Linda signaled to Roman to join her. He crawled laterally to her, staying under cover. “Okay, now we work our way up the hill, you follow me by a few yards and I’ll signal if I see him.”

  For the next hour they carefully moved up the hill in that fashion. Linda stayed low and took her time. She kept her head below the brush line, occasionally looking ahead from the side of a bush. Raising her head up would be asking for it. The problem with this method was that she had to navigate towards where the shots had come from by memory. She had been anxiously awaiting sounds of shooting from the right where Tim and Frank were but hadn’t heard anything. Apparently they crossed the creek further up, out of sight of their bad guy

  Linda signaled Roman to move up beside her. “I think he’s about fifty yards ahead, by that big pecan tree. We’ll split here. You crawl around to the left in a semi-circle and try to flank him. I’ll move over to the right and do the same. Be careful and stay low. Either one of us gets a bead on him open fire. The other will support.”

  Roman gave her a thumb’s-up and began slowly crawling away to his left. Linda began moving to her right. It was slow, arduous work, and she had to stop several times to pick thorns from her hands and arms. Crawling looks easy, but damn it’s hard, Thirty minutes later she was in a position where she could see the base of the pecan tree but she couldn’t make out the shooter. She inspected the brush under the tree carefully, picking through it visually almost leaf by leaf, looking for anything that didn’t belong there. After a long time she thought she saw a hand, but it was deep in the shadows of the brush and difficult to make out in the now-fading light. Time to do something, anything. It’ll be dark soon.

  Trying to determine where the shooter’s body would be in relation to the hand she thought she might be seeing, she carefully sighted in and squeezed off a shot. Bingo! Got him, or at least made him move! She quickly followed up with two more rapidly fired shots and waited to see if he moved again. She heard another shot from her left. Roman. He must have him in sight, too. Suddenly the shooter rolled from the brush and Linda pumped another shot into him, knowing for certain she hit him this time.

  The man’s body lay still, his rifle had fallen and slid down the slope a few feet ahead of him. Not knowing where the other shooter was Linda didn’t stand up, but crawled carefully towards the body. Within minutes she spotted Roman doing the same. They met in the brush in front of the body. As they came together they heard a single shot from well off to their right.

  Linda whispered to Roman, “Bet’cha they got theirs, too.” A few minutes later they heard Tim shout in the distance “We got ours! If you need help fire a shot.”

  Linda stood up. It felt good to stand after so long on the ground. She started to shout back to Tim when she heard the crack of a rifle and simultaneously felt a stinging sensation in her leg. Linda and Roman dropped down and got behind cover. Roman looked at Linda’s leg. “You’re hit. Let me look.”

  Linda felt the pain and looked down to see blood staining her pants. She pushed the leg over to where Roman could inspect it. He slid her pants leg up to her knee. “Through the outer edge of the calf. Small hole, same size on both sides. It’s going to hurt for a few days, but it should heal up okay.”

  Roman wrapped a clean bandanna around the wound and said, “Keep it as clean as you can until we can get a better bandage on it. I’m going after the guy who shot you. I know where the shot came from, see that small boulder over there by that dead tree? He’s behind it, got a glimpse. I’ll move around to get behind him, you stay here and keep the boulder covered. Watch for Tim and Frank, they’ll have heard the shot and think it was a signal for help so they’ll be coming along directly.”

  Linda nodded her assent and Roman quickly moved off. She lay in the prone position, rifle trained just above the rock. Damn that stings!

  Roman had been gone fifteen minutes when Linda spotted Tim and Frank coming in from her right. Risking getting shot again, she rose, quickly waving to them, then pointing to the rock before dropping back down. Just as she hit the dirt there was another shot, the bullet buzzing close over her head from the boulder. She had gotten lucky and caught the shooter off-guard. A moment later, she heard Roman’s rifle crack and saw brief motion from next to the boulder. Then Roman casually walked to the boulder. Got him.

  Linda stood and limped towards Roman. Frank and Tim quickly caught up to her, obvious concern on their faces.

  “Flesh wound, minor but annoying is all.” Linda said calmly.

  They arrived at the boulder where Roman was turning over the body. “Look at that, just a kid. Probably only fifteen or sixteen years old.” Roman looked distressed.

  Linda replied, “He chose his path, shot at me twice trying to kill me. Would’ve, too, if he’d been a better shot. Don’t feel bad about it Roman, his fault not yours. He was old enough to have run away instead of attacking, and the little son-of-a-bitch tried to kill me so damn him. Him or us Roman, him or us. Thank you for taking care of him for me.”

  Chapter 18

  The girls were gathered in a semi-circle facing Race. They were wearing their camouflage and had striped their faces with grease mixed with ashes. Each face was striped horizontally exactly the same way.

  They’re scary enough looking. Race thought.

  “Okay girls. We’re going to keep calling ourselves Adrian’s Angels in public—but from here on we call ourselves Adrian’s Rangers in private, as we agreed. He taught us to take care of ourselves, protect each other, hunt food, and be on our own. We’re free and independent but only because of him.”

  Race saw in their faces a fierce pride, a justified pride. “For the next two days we’re going to practice scouting and locating the enemy. We’ll go out on patrol from here and make a two day loop back. On day three we’ll rest and clean up then drive back to the ship.”

  “Why do we have to go back to the ship?” Alana asked.

  “Because we gave our promise to Adrian. We don’t need the ship and they don’t need us, but we promised Adrian and we keep our promises. Don’t we Alana.”

  Alana nodded somberly, “Especially to Adrian.” She said quietly. The other girls nodded along with her in full agreement. “Especially to Adrian.” Another of the girls said.

  The next morning the girls were moving by first light. They walked single file through the mesquite brush, spaced as far as they could and keep in sight of the girl ahead. The second oldest girl brought up the rear of the line to make sure the younger ones didn’t fall behind. They moved slowly enough to be completely silent and used hand signals for communication.

  Race suddenly got a whiff of mesquite smoke and raised her hand to halt the column, each girl in turn raising her hand to signal those behind. She stood for a minute sniffing the air, it smelled fairly close. She signaled a sit-down halt and then moved back down the line checking each of the girls, making sure they had their rifles loaded with one in the chamber and the safety on.

  Race chose Lila and Celia to accompany her and ordered the rest wait where they were. With the two girls behind her she began cautiously working her way through the brush following the smell of what she thought must be a campfire. Excellent, a perfect training opportunity to practice reconnoitering an enemy position.

  As she moved towards the smell she eventually spotted smoke curling up from a low spot nearby. She and the two girls moved closer to the smoke, constantly stopping and scanning every opening through which they could see. She was looking for guards, but found none. When they had gotten close enough to hear muffled voices they advanced by crawling. They crawled fifty yards before seeing the camp. Watching for a few minutes and looking for guards the girls slowly and silently crept up to a position from which they could see the camp clearly.


  Three men were moving around the campfire. It was a long-term camp, apparent by the amount of debris the men had scattered around it. Two tents stood back of the fire a short distance. The men were bearded and had long shaggy hair, wore filthy clothes and showed no outward signs of being interested in hygiene. Animal remains near the fire suggested that they were living by hunting, and little else. Race didn’t want anything to do with men like these, yet she was completely unafraid of them. As long as she had her rifle she was at least equal to them, possibly superior given her training.

  She could now clearly hear the men talking. “Time to go huntin.” One of the men announced as he picked up his rifle. Another man said, “I’ll wait here, don’t feel like hunting today. Stomach’s not right.”

  The second man picked up his rifle and snarled at the sick man, “Do your business further off than yesterday, and do it upwind this time damnit.”

  The two men with their rifles slung over their shoulders began walking out of camp towards Race.

  Damn the luck. They’ll walk right up on us in a second. She whispered to the other girls, “Safety’s off and fingers on the trigger, but don’t shoot unless I do.” She took her own rifle off safety as she said it.

  When the men were twenty feet away Race quickly rose to her feet, followed by the two girls. “Hold it right there mister,” she said in a completely calm voice.