by Bobby Akart
Jake moved along the side of the truck and kept his weapon trained on the man, whose blood was forming a pool on the pavement. “Cover me,” he whispered to Javy’s men as he walked by.
Colton walked sideways, focused on the stand of pine trees that lined his side of the road. The large field on Jake’s side was devoid of activity.
Jake approached the older man cautiously and pulled his arms away from his broken body. “There’s no sign of a weapon, not that it matters,” said Jake. “His skull is fractured and he bled out on the pavement.
“Hit-and-run maybe?” surmised Colton.
“I think so. Look at how the body was dragged along for twenty feet. Colton, this must’ve happened this morning. The blood’s still fresh and the old guy is still fairly warm.”
Colton shouldered his weapon and looked around the scene. “You know what else, there are no skid or swerve marks. Whoever ran him over didn’t care to avoid the contact. It was deliberate.”
“And they were headed toward Saltillo!” yelled Jake as he ran towards the truck. “Let’s go!”
They raced towards Saltillo, fearing the worst. Junior’s men might be on the warpath and the poor old guy in the road was the first casualty of the day. Colton became very afraid for the safety of Russ Hilton and his family.
Jake and Colton were on edge as they made the final turn into Saltillo. A roadblock was in place and two men immediately moved to a defensive position behind a makeshift barrier of railroad ties. A tractor with a trailer full of manure blocked a dirt road that led around the barrier.
“Stop about a hundred feet short,” said Colton. “I’ll go talk to them.” As Jake pulled to a stop, Colton exited the truck with his hands raised in the air. He slowly walked closer to the men until they ordered him to halt.
“That’s close enough, mister!” said one of the guards.
“State your business,” hollered the other.
“My name is Colton Ryman and I’m a friend of Russ Hilton’s. I was here a little over a month ago. You might remember. We stayed with the Hiltons and I played a few tunes with Russ that night.”
The two men crouched lower and talked for a moment. Then one man rose and summoned Colton to come closer.
“You can put your arms down, Mr. Ryman. Would you mind telling us why you’re here?”
“I need to speak with Russ, but I also need to warn you. Someone may be coming this way that ran over and killed an old man about five miles back toward Crump. Have you seen anybody?”
“No, not yet,” the other man replied as he shouldered his weapon. “Any idea of when it happened?”
“Recent,” replied Colton. “Do you have a roadblock like this one on the south side of town? They may be approaching from there first.”
“We do,” responded one of the men. “Crap! We’ve got to warn them. Let me move the tractor so you guys can come in.”
While the vehicles were rearranged, Colton instructed Javy’s men to remain at this entrance to assist one of Saltillo’s guards. Jake and Colton would drive the other into town so they could warn Russ. If Junior or his men were coming, Colton might have arrived just in time.
As they eased into town, Russ was having an animated conversation with Cherry. Colton immediately ducked beneath the dash so Cherry didn’t recognize him.
“Stop. Stop. Stop,” instructed Colton.
Jake pulled into a side street and immediately turned off the motor. They sat quietly and listened in.
“This is disgusting and atrocious,” bellowed Russ. “What’s wrong with you people? You can’t hang people anymore and especially because she wouldn’t kowtow to your demands for information. We can’t help you, Mr. Cherry. You should leave now before other folks in town see this and get really pissed off!”
“You’ve been warned, Hilton!” yelled Cherry as he motioned for his men to get into the car.
Three men on horses rode alongside Cherry’s vehicle as he spun gravel and headed back to the south end of town. Colton contemplated chasing after them, perhaps making some kind of citizen’s arrest for the death of the old man on the bike.
“I know what you’re thinking, buddy,” said Jake. “We could grab him. He might make a good prisoner for a hostage swap someday. We could use him as leverage for another purpose. Or we could hang them all for killing the old man and send a picture of that back to Ma.”
“Yeah, all of the above,” Colton growled. “But the timing is awful. I also suspect Cherry is expendable; otherwise Ma wouldn’t send him on this errand with only two guards. If it was important enough, Junior would be here.”
“Whadya think Junior’s up to?” asked Jake.
“Probably the same thing we’re doin, all the more reason we need to get our ducks in a row before we antagonize Ma and Junior further.”
Jake patted Colton on the shoulder. “Good thinking, my man. Let’s go see a fellow country crooner.”
Chapter 18
Late Morning, November 7
The Stables
Shiloh Ranch
Snowflake was the happiest pony on the planet. She and Alex had developed a bond that few horse trainers would understand, and it was certainly beyond Stubby’s comprehension, who’d been around horses all his life. He marveled at the two as Alex allowed Snowflake the opportunity to sniff her and nuzzle her neck. Once that first step was accomplished, Alex eagerly scratched, stroked, and hugged the much larger animal. They were one together.
“Look at her spirit, Stubby,” Alex gleefully exclaimed. Snowflake was hopping around the horse pen like a young child running around a room in utter excitement, not sure which way to go first. “She’s ready to ride.”
“Alex, I see that,” said Stubby. “I’m not sure you are. This ain’t the Kentucky Derby and you’re still recovering.”
“I’ll take her slow,” Alex insisted. “Come on, you can ride with me and we’ll talk. I have things to tell you.”
Stubby weighed the risks. He and Colton had discussed her recovery earlier this morning and Alex was approved to ride at a slow pace. They needed to ease her back into the saddle, so to speak. Alex was an integral part of their operation and she’d be needed in the days to come.
“Okay,” Stubby said somewhat reluctantly. “I’ll have the boys saddle them up.”
“Come here, Snowflake,” said Alex. Snowflake trotted towards her. “You and I get to ride. We gotta take it slow, deal?”
Snowflake responded with a whinny as she raised her nostrils into the air to smell the opportunity to be freed from the confines of the barn and pen.
Within a few minutes, the two riders rode into the fields towards the river. Snowflake was content to have Alex in the saddle, and likewise, it seemed Alex didn’t want to lose the opportunity she’d been given to ride. They were both on their best behavior.
“She’s a warhorse, Stubby,” started Alex. “She’s not some namby-pamby pony named Snowflake. She’s ready for battle.”
“I don’t disagree, Alex,” said Stubby.
“Well, I want you to know that neither am I. I’m not weak, nor am I afraid. I’m ready to take care of the Durhams and I intend to help.” Alex pulled the reins back and Snowflake responded by stopping. Alex, and her horse, stared at Stubby defiantly.
“Why are you two giving me the look?” asked Stubby. “I’ve never thought otherwise.”
Alex continued to stare at him for a moment and then continued. “I know you well enough now. You’re planning something. Something big—against the Durhams. I’m better now and I want in. I want to help.”
Stubby dismounted and gestured for Alex to do the same. They walked their horses to a relatively flat muddy beach at the river’s edge and allowed them to drink. Snowflake also chomped on some tall grass protruding out of the water.
“You know that your role in my plans is totally dependent on your parents,” started Stubby. “They love you and it’s up to them to determine your well-being. Naturally, I can think of half a dozen ways for you to help with what I
have in mind.”
“I’ll talk to them tonight,” she said. “If you’re putting together ideas, I should be included in the planning and the attack itself.”
“Alex, what makes you think that we’re going to attack?” asked Stubby.
“Because it’s the only way to push them out.”
“Not necessarily,” said Stubby. “But let’s save that conversation for later when I work out the details. If you can satisfy your parents that the effects of the concussion are gone, then you’re in. Fair enough?”
“Yes,” she replied. “I have another thing to talk to you about.”
“Go ahead.”
“I need to address the issue of Chase,” she began. “This will also relate to what you may or may not have in mind in your plans.”
Stubby and Alex pulled their horses away from the water and began riding again towards the north end of Shiloh Ranch. Stubby wanted to check on a fence that had become damaged by the recently rising Tennessee River. Javy had repaired it and Stubby wanted to see how it was holding up.
“Chase is impulsive, which makes him dangerous,” said Stubby. “I’ve watched him grow up, largely without the direction of his father. The end result is a high-spirited young man who is constantly seeking attention, sometimes without regard to the consequences of his actions.”
“Stubby, I feel bad,” said Alex, turning in the saddle to look directly into his face. The tough exterior she’d portrayed a moment ago softened and her eyes welled up in tears. “This is his home, not mine. He’s not even speaking to his dad, and his mom cries about it. I feel responsible because everything he’s gotten in trouble for has involved me.”
Stubby pulled to a stop and explained the difficult relationship between Jake and Chase. “Since I’ve known the Allen family, Jake and Chase have been at odds. This happens sometimes. You do realize that the world doesn’t hold hands and sing kumbaya every night, right?”
“I know, but they’re family—” started Alex before Stubby cut her off.
“Yeah, but not like yours,” said Stubby. “What you have with your mom and dad is unusual nowadays. The Allens love one another. They have issues that you don’t have. At the end of the day, however, they are family and will stick together. As for Chase, with age and perhaps a change of scenery, he’ll become a mature young man. All teenage-boy screwups don’t end up in the hoosegow and all golden-boy prom kings don’t end up being president. A lot can happen in early adulthood.”
Alex contemplated this for a moment and made a mental note to never marry before she was at least twenty-five, and hopefully the man of her dreams ended up being much older than her. She wasn’t ready to tame a teen.
“Okay, anyway, I have a suggestion,” said Alex. “Before I left Miss Rhoda’s, I talked with Beau and the girls about something. They all want to help.”
“That’s good,” said a noncommittal Stubby. “But they would be best served defending their own farms. We don’t need them to get involved in our troubles.”
“Stubby, they don’t see it that way. The people of Savannah want their homes back. They’re tired of hiding. Honestly, they see the Durhams as their problem, not ours.”
“What are you sayin’?” asked Stubby.
“They want to organize and band together. They want weapons and they want training. They need leadership. When it’s time to make a move on Junior over here, they want to approach Savannah from the south and within the town using the Tiger Resistance.”
Stubby laughed. “This ain’t a made-for-TV movie.”
“They know its real life,” argued Alex. “They want their homes back.”
Stubby slowly continued the ride as the north fence line came into view. “Who’s gonna lead this band of brothers? You?”
“No, not completely,” replied Alex. “I propose we send Chase over there. For one, it gets him out from under the shadow of his dad. Second, it separates us as we move forward, which will probably please my parents. Third, he’s a good trainer and really helped show me the ropes. If we send him with guns and ammo, as well as a sense of purpose, I think he’ll do a great job and it will surprise the heck out of the Durhams too.”
Stubby chuckled as he rode alongside Snowflake and Alex. “How old are you?”
“Fifteen.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Yes, sir, it’s a true story. I’ll be sixteen in a couple of months. Does that mean you agree with me?” asked Alex, beaming with pride.
“Maybe, we’ll see.”
Chapter 19
Afternoon, November 7
Northwest Hardin County
Jake let out a huge belch as his protruding stomach filled with catfish expanded beyond his jeans. “Excuse me, but I’m stuffed outta my mind. I’ve never had catfish this good, Lisa.”
“Well, thank you, Jake,” replied Mrs. Hilton. “Boys, there’s plenty more where that came from. Anybody ready for a final helping?” She received a variety of groans in various octaves in response.
“We look like a bunch of bears getting ready to hibernate,” said Russ. “At least they have to get off their butts and catch fish. We get to lay around and belch.”
Colton managed to hoist himself out of the Hiltons’ dining room chair and became the proverbial party pooper. “I’m afraid we’ve got to get goin’. While I really appreciate that you can take some of these names off my contact list, there are a few closer to the bridge that we need to see ourselves.”
“Okay, I get it,” said Russ. “Listen, there’s not a chance Junior moves on us before we get together in a couple of days, is there?”
“Always a chance, Russ,” replied Colton. “Be ready. I believe Junior’s making plans like we are. Cherry may have been here as a last-ditch effort to flush us out, but he also might be gathering intel. Whatever you do, beef up security and focus on the task at hand.”
Lisa approached the table with a large paper bag full of catfish wrapped in aluminum foil and some hush puppies. “Take this back to your families. At least they can get a nibble too.”
Colton hugged Lisa and assured her that Madison would get some of her catfish. He then picked up baby Wyatt T. Hilton out of his crib and gave him a tickle under his chin. The newborn wiggled in appreciation.
One of Javy’s men agreed to stay behind to escort Russ and the other farm owners of Northwest Hardin County to the meeting site. Although most knew where the Shiloh Battlefield Visitor Center was located, they were not aware of the roundabout route that was the safest to travel.
With only a few stops left, Jake and Colton made good time. They added the other ranch hand to the front cab of the Chevy pickup and Colton took over the wheel. Jake had difficulty maneuvering the old truck anyway, especially with a third person on the bench seat.
The trip was uneventful and the evening began to set in as they made their final stop at the home of the man who had provided critical cover fire during their rescue of Alex. This was the most dangerous of the stops on their list.
The man was an ally in terms of his relationship with Coach Carey and his willingness to help, but he’d never met Jake or Colton. Colton would have to approach unarmed and be prepared to talk his way out of a bullet very quickly. If this reclusive man wasn’t so important to Stubby’s plans, Colton would have avoided the risk altogether.
“Ain’t no way we’re drivin’ through those iron gates,” said Jake. “Look at what’s on top of the block pillars.”
“Are those anvils?” asked Colton. “Like they used in the old days?”
“I reckon so,” replied Jake. “How do you wanna do this?”
Colton pulled the truck up to the gates and shut it off. The driveway sloped down the east side of a ridge and the sun was setting on the other side toward Memphis. He needed to get going because he really didn’t want to knock on the man’s door in the dark.
“Stubby says this guy is real important,” replied Colton. “He also was a big help to us when we rescued Alex. I need to thank
him and ask him to help us once again.”
“Here’s the portable ham radio and charger, new in box, as they say on eBay,” said Jake.
“You know what else,” started Colton. “Since I come bearing gifts, why don’t I give him the catfish and hush puppies too. It might help ease any tension caused by my trespassing up his driveway.”
Colton exited the truck with only his sidearm and his arms full of catfish and the Baofeng radio. He slowly walked up the winding, tree-canopied driveway towards a small ranch house at the top of the hill. Colton was completely unaware that a rifle scope had drawn a bead on his chest from the moment he came into sight. On the other end of the scope, an iconic marksman who’d served more tours in the Middle East than any other sniper from the Gulf War until the present—Charlie Koch.
As Colton reached the top of the drive, the gravel narrowed as a result of large rock formations rising twenty feet on either side of him. A normal road width would be larger than fourteen feet. Colton doubted the driveway chiseled through the stone could meet that standard.
He walked into the man-made tunnel and clutched the packages. He raised his hands as the house came into full view. It was a simple log home, with a large front porch and a green metal roof. Colton thought it could’ve been made out of Lincoln Logs, the toys he’d played with as a child.
“Stop!” a voice boomed down the hill toward him.
“Okay,” said Colton, raising his hands just a little bit higher and farther apart. “Please don’t shoot me.”
“If I was gonna do that, you’d be dead at the gate. What do you want?”
Suddenly a red dot illuminated on his chest. He’d seen enough military programs to know what that meant.
“My name is Colton Ryman, a friend of Coach Joe Carey. You helped me rescue my daughter, Alex, a week ago. I’m here to thank you and talk to you about something else.”
Colton could hear the faint sound of two-way radio chatter. He couldn’t make out the words, which were very few anyway. Probably code, he surmised.