That is where I had been working towards all night. I needed to get there. I needed the scoped rifle that was in the cave. There I had a chance, a chance to get one more of them. Even with my bad leg, I could climb down and get the AR. I would climb back up and I would run no more. I would not wait until night where they again would dominate the darkness. I would hunt them as they hunted me. If I could get just one more of them, that would leave Dan with the odds of two to one. He could do it. My son could take out the last two and save my family. I believed in Dan. I needed to get just one more.
Something sailed through the air and landed up in the thick draw behind me. Then a deafening blast ripped through the oaks. Shrapnel cut through the foliage with some tearing the flesh on my left shoulder. They had found me again. Another grenade landed closer as I threw myself behind the rock next to me. Another blast ripped the draw and shrapnel ricocheted off the rock. The next grenade would land on top of me.
I pushed myself to my feet and ran. Forcing my wounded leg to work, I crashed through the scrub oak as I ran down the draw. Grenades! I had not counted on grenades. I should have.
Another blast sounded behind me. They had the high ground and were driving me to the sandy opening below. I had no choice. I could not withstand the grenades in the small ravine.
As the ravine opened onto the broad wash bed, I stumbled and fell. I shoved to my feet and sprinted. Only forty yards to go. Forty yards and I would pass from sight behind the old ponderosa. From there I could slip away to the cave. The massive tree roots loomed before me when something slammed into my back. I pitched forward into the sand as the Sig Saur flew from my hand. Hitting the sand face first, my arms stretched out before me. Stunned from the shock of the bullet, I had no breath. My mind was dazed and my body struggled to draw air into my lungs. I lay in the sand, not moving. I felt like a prize fighter who had just been dealt a knockout blow.
I heard a laugh, it was Zackary, Zackary Williams. The man had won. I did not want to die with my back to him. Gathering my strength, I drew my arms under me and pushed up to my hands and knees. Blood had already pooled in the sand below me. Raising my head, I saw my 45 auto in the sand ten feet away. It might as well have been a mile away. Lowering my head, I looked at my chest. The bullet had exited the left side of my chest passing through my lung.
I pushed to an upright position on my knees. Bringing up one knee, I placed my hand upon it and shoved myself to a standing position. With effort I turned to face him. Dizziness rushed over me and I reached out to steady myself by grabbing one of the tree roots at my left shoulder.
Zackary walked towards me, stopping twenty feet away with his rifle barrel lowered. From the right bank another agent slid to the wash bottom and positioned himself beside Zackary. Then the last agent appeared from the oaks on the left bank and joined them.
“Well, Jake Bonham, you made a good run,” Zackary said sarcastically.
He looked every bit of his reputation, rugged and strong, keen eyed and vicious. I did not answer him.
“This is the height of living, Jake. I love it. I knew you were tough, but three of my agents? That’s good. At best, I figured you would only get one and if you were lucky, two. Three? That’s real good. It’s been years since I’ve lost that many.”
I still did not say anything.
“I had hoped to take you back alive. I was going to hang you by the light pole in front of the old church on Kanab’s Main Street. You hanging there would help take the starch out of those thinking of getting out of line. But, it doesn’t look like you could make the trip. I’ll have to settle with taking your head.”
Zackary stopped speaking and furrowed his brows. Ever the keen predator, he saw something in my eyes that he did not like.
Here they were. One, two, three, standing side by side, twenty feet in front of me. From the beginning of the conflict till now, never had I seen agents next to each other and never this close.
A wicked grin covered my face and Zackary furrowed his brows even deeper. A cowboy does not pack a six shooter all his life and not know how to use it. My grandfather had taught me the fast draw as a child. Seldom had a week gone by in my life that I had not practiced.
My right wrist flicked and with a blur, my hand Spalmed the rosewood grips of my 44-40. In a flash, the old pistol cleared the leather holster with the hammer eared back. By reflex, I pulled the trigger, the hammer fell, the gun bucked in my hand. The bullet took Zackary Williams between the eyes.
Reflex, speed, and muscle memory, Zackary was still standing when my second bullet struck the agent to his right. It entered below the right eye.
The agent on the left was barely raising his rifle when my third bullet clipped his chin and smashed through his throat.
I stood there in the sandy, wash holding on to the root of the ancient tree. The bodies of my enemies lay before me, not a twitch coming from them. Holding the old revolver in my hand, I could not help but spin it around my finger once before sliding it back into the holster.
My family was safe. I think I’ll go tell them. Strange … The earth was slowly tipping. It started to tip faster. That was very strange … Suddenly the earth slammed into the side of my face and I plowed into the sandy wash. I blinked my eyes and the spinning world slowed to a stop. My eyes blinked again, more slowly this time. The sand of the wash bottom was cool as it pressed against my cheek. The sun was getting dark; it must be getting cloudy … It is time to tell my children that they are safe but … I’m tired. I think I’ll rest first, just a little. It must be getting ready to rain it is so dark.
I closed my eyes to rest, but heard the sound of a walking animal. I could not raise my head to look, I was too tired but I knew it was a horse. It stopped in front of me and I forced open my eyes. I could see the dark stocking legs of a bay horse. From off the horse a women’s leg extended to the sandy floor. A turquoise velvet skirt was drawn up to the knee of the woman, exposing the light brown skin of the leg. The foot was laced inside a high top Apache moccasin. There was a knife scabbard stitched inside the moccasin with a bone knife handle exposed. That made me smile. It was Sandy. I would like to see those green eyes, but … the rain clouds must be getting very heavy. They are blocking out the light. It’s very dark. I can’t see … I’m tired. I think I’ll sleep… .
Chapter 37
FREEDOM
A sound, a familiar sound. I could not quite place it but I knew that I had heard that sound many times before … There it was again. In the dimness, for a moment, a soft warm breeze caressed my cheek. I could not see anything; it was dim but not dark. Stillness now … then that sound, the soft rustle of a fabric. Again, a soft warm breeze passed over me. The dimness slowly gave way. There was a sliver of light. Heaven? A soft summer breeze rustled the drapes of an open window. My window.
Gentle light of an afternoon sun filled the room that was mine. I looked through the open window and could see the deep green leaves of the cottonwood trees that stood above the cemetery. Full leafs, deep green. That was the size and color of cottonwood leaves to be found in late summer. Late summer?
My eyes slid slowly from the window to a woman sitting in a chair. It was a rocking chair and the woman’s long black hair was pulled back in a single ponytail. One foot on the floor and one foot tucked up to her on the seat of the rocking chair. The chair was slowly and gently rocking as the woman looked upon an open book she held in her hands. She was lost in reading. As in the first day that I had seen her, she had on the maroon blouse and the velvet turquoise skirt with the belt of silver conchos. The leg that was drawn up to her exposed the soft brown skin and the Apache moccasin. There was the bone handle knife.
Muscles that had not been used for a long time responded, and a smile came to my face.
I closed my eyes and memories flooded my mind. The drapes rustled again as another breeze entered the window. I drew in a deep breath. The air tasted differently. For the first time in my life, I was tasting the air of true freedom.
/> I held the breath a moment longer then let it out as I opened my eyes. The woman in the chair stopped rocking. I watched her as she remained motionless. Slowly she raised her face from the book and looked at me. There they were, those green eyes filled with light.
About the Author
LaVoy Finicum is a rancher and family man who lives in northern Arizona. As he has watched the freedoms of this great land of America being eroded away through unconstitutional legislation and outright thievery, he decided to do more than sit idly by. He wrote this novel in an effort to teach the principals of “natural law,” to show that certain truths are “self-evident” and that our rights come to us from God and are “inalienable,” meaning that they cannot be given away or taken away.
John Locke (England, 1632–1704) was a physician, statesman, and political philosopher who expressed the radical view that government is morally obliged to serve people, namely by protecting life, liberty, and property. He insisted that when government violates individual rights, people may legitimately rebel.
A recent example of this type of behavior was demonstrated when the Federal Government sought to take away the grazing rights from LaVoy’s friend and neighbor, Cliven Bundy. This they did by force of arms. It was only when the common man stood up, willing to meet force with force, that those rights were preserved.
It is time to back up talk with action.
Only by Blood and Suffering: Regaining Lost Freedom Page 26