Lilly had told her many times before that she was stubborn. And hard-headed. And unreasonable.
But never before had Lilly gone so far as to call her a “butthead.”
It might have been comical, except for the gravity of the discussion.
Further, there had been only a handful of times over the years when Lilly used Red’s given name. Usually to get her attention and usually when desperately frustrated.
Red, for her part, was incredulous.
“I’m sorry. Did you just call me Debbie?”
“I damn sure did. And I called you a butthead. I’d call you worse except I’m a good Christian woman.”
The shock value of Lilly’s words finally accomplished their desired affect.
Red softened and offered a concession.
“Look, you guys. Maybe you have a point. Maybe they’ll get me before I can get to Savage. I’ll make a deal with you.”
Lilly wasn’t in the mood to compromise. But they’d been going at it for almost an hour and this was the first sign Red gave that she might bend a bit.
“I’m listening, Red. But it better be good.”
“I will write a letter tonight. You can witness it.”
“A letter? What in hell is a letter going to do?”
“Lilly, please let me finish.”
“Okay then. Finish.”
“I’ll write a letter tonight. I’ll address it to the Texas Rangers. I’ll sign it and you can witness it.
“In the letter I’ll lay out all the evidence I have against Savage. I’ll tell them the three of them… Ed Sloan, Jesse Luna and John Savage, plotted together to dynamite my house, with the intent of killing all three of us. Russell, Rusty and myself. I’ll write that I was lucky to have survived, and only did so because I had just stepped onto the back porch when they detonated the explosives.
“I’ll spell out that I found blasting caps and a tattered but unexploded stick of dynamite in the wreckage. The dynamite had numbers on it that can be traced back to who bought it.
“I’ll say that Sloan rolled over on Savage and Luna, thinking by doing so I would spare his life.
“I’ll say that my dad was killed with Zarzapine, a drug manufactured to put down large animals. Luna told me that. He said he was given several vials of the stuff from Dr. Munoz, who’s in Savage’s pocket. If they want to dig up Dad’s body and do an autopsy on him, that’ll confirm it.
“Luna’s dead now, because I sent him to hell. But the Zarzapine should still be in Munoz’s office.
“I’ll write all that down tonight. I’ll also write down that Luna killed Crazy Eddie on Savage’s orders so Savage could repossess his house and land. And that Savage let him keep Eddie’s horses, which he used to take to Lubbock.
“Luna told me Savage was looking for a handgun. He said he found a really nice Smith and Wesson in Eddie’s house after he killed him. One with pearl handles. Luna thought the Smith and Wesson was so pretty he decided to keep it for himself.
“So he gave the gun he shot Eddie with to Savage just before he left town.
“If the Ranger wants to go through the trouble of exhuming Eddie’s body, he’ll find that the bullets which killed Eddie came from the same gun Savage used to kill those two men at the bank.
“That’s the key to taking Savage to trial. Even if the Ranger can’t prove Savage murdered my Dad or my family, the ballistics evidence from Eddie’s murder will be enough to convict him.”
“And what, exactly, is writing all that stuff down gonna do to prevent you from getting killed?” Lilly demanded.
“It won’t. But if I do get killed, all you have to do is send Lester Booker to Austin to give that letter to the Rangers. It’ll be enough for the Rangers to send investigators back to Blanco. It’ll be enough for Savage to stand trial. And you’ll be rid of the bastard.”
It was Beth who stepped in to add, “That’s not good enough, Red. We don’t have the same vendetta against Savage that you do. We don’t mind getting rid of him. But we don’t want to lose you in the process.”
Red pursed her lips, hesitated, then responded.
“I’m sorry. That’s the only concession I’m willing to make.”
-20-
John Savage was perhaps the happiest man in Blanco when Ranger Randy returned to the boarding house and announced he was setting him free.
“Don’t think this is permanent. I know what you’ve been up to and we’ll be keeping an eye on you. Eventually you’re going to slip up. And when that day comes I’ll take great joy in coming back here and taking you back into custody.”
Savage showed no gratitude, no remorse. Not even any concern that he’d dodged a bullet and beat the rap.
He smirked, “Does this mean I can go back to my bank and get back to business?”
“It does. Although you might want to wait until Dr. Munoz finishes moving the bodies of your victims over to the city morgue.”
“When’s he gonna do that?”
“Sometime today.”
“And who’s gonna clean up the mess?”
Randy was getting a bit peeved, but would keep his cool. However, he was more than a little testy when he replied, “You made the mess. I reckon you can clean it up too.”
“So I’m free to go?”
But Savage suddenly didn’t want to leave.
It dawned on him he was still a marked man.
A very marked man.
“But… I need an escort back.”
“Excuse me?”
“I can’t just walk down the street. Not by myself. People in this town hate me. Somebody will shoot me for sure.”
“You’re a bit paranoid, aren’t you?”
“No. I’m just being realistic. I need a police escort back to my bank.”
“Pass.”
“But you’re a sworn peace officer. It’s your duty to protect the citizens of Texas.”
“Not from their inner demons or irrational thoughts.”
Savage turned to Lester Booker and said, “How about you, Lester? Would you walk me as far as my bank?”
Instead of answering Lester turned to Randy and asked, “Do you need me for anything else, Ranger?”
“No sir. Thank you for helping out. I really appreciate it.”
“No problem. Glad to do it.”
The pair shook hands and Lester turned back to Savage and said gruffly, “Come on if you’re comin’.”
Randy watched the two walk away and couldn’t help but wonder what it was that happened in Savage’s life to make him the uncaring man he was.
But he didn’t have time to dwell on it.
He had a four day ride to Austin, where he’d do a detailed report on the goings-on in Blanco. He’d submit a “watch request” for the tiny town.
For the foreseeable future, all Rangers would be asked to ride into the town whenever they were close by just to check on things.
They’d ask around to see whether Savage was behaving himself. And if he was still up to no good, they’d conduct an inquiry to determine whether they finally had evidence to charge him with something.
In the meantime, Randy hoped the banker’s close call with the justice system would make him think.
Make him reassess the way he was treating his customers and neighbors.
Make him less of a bully and a bit less greedy.
Randy doubted that would ever happen. But he could always hope.
Actually, Savage did lose himself in thought on the long walk back to his bank.
That was okay with Lester. Savage’s silence meant Lester didn’t have to talk to the man. And Lester despised him as much as anybody else in town.
Savage wasn’t lost in his own thoughts because he was sorry. He fully admitted to himself he’d made some serious mistakes of late. But he didn’t regret taking the lives of Gomez and Duncan. Nor did he regret the shoddy way he treated his fellow citizens.
What he did regret, however, was not dispatching Red sooner.
He’d never liked Red.
Not even when she was but a tiny little snot, too tiny to be a threat to him, following her father all over town.
His feelings toward her never changed. She’d always been an excellent judge of character, or of men who lacked it.
And over the years she made little effort in hiding what she thought of him, even actively advising her friends not to do business with his bank because he couldn’t be trusted.
It was sheer bad luck she didn’t die in the explosion that killed her husband and son.
If she had, it would have been clear sailing for Savage. For the judge and Lilly were right. If Red was out of the way Savage would have free rein over the town. A license to ride roughshod over its citizens. For with Red gone no one else would challenge him.
On the other hand, maybe not.
Everyone in town knew Red was going after Savage. And every single one of them, including Reverend Fall and Pastor Walters, thought her justified in doing so. The two of them had recently talked, and wondered aloud whether it was sinful to root for a bad man’s death.
They decided it was, but that it wouldn’t stop them. Once the deed was done they fully planned to pray for forgiveness for Red. They’d just ask God to forgive them at the same time.
The townsfolk had discussed many times of late what might happen if Red lost the battle against Savage. If he or someone he hired managed to kill her first.
Several of the men said they’d avenge her death.
Now, many men would don a cloak of bravado under such circumstances.
Most would not act on it.
But then again, Red was loved by all, save John Savage, and someone would almost certainly make good on his promise.
If Savage outlived Red his end would likely come via a bullet to the head, fired from the anonymity of a stand of trees or dense shrubbery.
But it would almost certainly come. If Red were to be beaten.
And that was a very big if.
-21-
John Savage didn’t have a wide circle of friends, either in Blanco or anywhere else.
What he did have, though, was a wide network of contacts.
The majority of them were as shady as he was. Crooked lawyers, doctors, businessmen in every field. He even knew an IRS employee who had the ability to squelch a tax audit every time his name came due for one.
He also knew a man who knew other men. Other men who could “disappear people” for a certain amount of money.
Hit men weren’t cheap. They never were, even before the blackout.
Since the power went out, they were even more expensive.
Savage didn’t understand why, exactly. He’d have thought that since the earth had descended into chaos more people would be desperate to earn a living by offing others.
And since most police activities had closed up shop or become neutered, one would think it would be easier to get away with such murders.
It hadn’t turned out that way, however.
One very sad fact, at least from Savage’s point of view, was that contract killings had gotten more expensive since the blackout.
It was simply undisputable.
The killers were still out there. They were a bit harder to get ahold of these days. But they were out there.
The only thing that made sense to Savage was that perhaps there were always people out there with grudges who wanted others dead. They just never acted on it before for fear of being arrested.
He surmised that the blackout gave them new courage to put such plans into place. Chances were highly unlikely in the present world that they’d ever be caught.
So perhaps there were more people out there now looking for someone to murder an old enemy.
And perhaps the killers had more requests than they could keep up with, and were therefore able to raise their prices and still get plenty of business.
The old supply and demand principle.
It was what made America great.
-22-
Savage was a free man once again.
Once again able to bully his neighbors with impunity, using the power of his bank as a weapon. Using the notes on fellow Blanco citizens as a means to make them cow-tow to him.
Even as they hated him, they were careful not to anger him. For with one stroke of Savage’s mighty pen he could legally put them out of their houses and make them homeless.
The Ranger was on his way out of town, headed ninety miles to the southeast to Texas Ranger Headquarters.
He’d stopped at Red’s house on his way out of town to appeal to her one last time.
“It doesn’t have to be this way,” he’d have told her. “Please reconsider. If not for your own sake, for the sake of the friends you claim to care about.”
His words remained unspoken, though, since Red didn’t answer the door.
Randy thought he was being rebuffed, but Red was actually in the barn on the other side of the property. She was shoeing one of the horses, and teaching Jacob and Lilly how to do it.
Beth watched in fascination.
There was simply no one at the house to answer the door when Randy knocked.
He did return to the boarding house, though.
“I’m sorry,” he told Mrs. Montgomery. “When I checked out I forgot to give you a pay voucher.”
He handed her a form with the Texas Ranger emblem emblazoned across the top. It had been completed in the amount of their agreed upon rate: $280.50, and Randy had signed across the bottom.
“I didn’t think anything of it,” she told him. “These days more often than not my guests leave without paying. Most of them have no means to pay.”
“The Rangers always pay their debts. I will turn in my copy of the voucher when I arrive in Austin. It’ll be turned over to a paymaster, who will add you to his list of places to visit next time he makes his rounds. It might take as long as ninety days, since travel is slow these days. But when he comes he’ll pay you in full, in silver or gold shavings, and will pay interest fees if the bill is older than thirty days.”
“Well in that case, it’s a pleasure doing business with the Texas Rangers. Even if you did stink up my place by bringing that sorry animal into it.”
“Yes ma’am. I apologize for having to do that.”
“Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“I was hoping you would ask. How often do you see Red Poston?”
“Not often. A couple of times a week, maybe. The town has a meeting every day at five o’clock in the courthouse square. It’s where they share news and pass out food from the highway. I have a group of volunteers who go to pick up our food for us, but when I’m not busy and can break away I like to attend. Now that Red’s back in town, I’ll see her there occasionally.”
“I went by her house but she wouldn’t answer the door. Would you be so kind as to pass a message to her for me?”
“Certainly.”
“Just tell her I hope and pray she changes her mind before she or any other decent people get killed. Tell her I’m filing a full report when I get to Austin so they’re aware of the situation here in Blanco. Give her this…”
He produced a piece of paper, on which was written a cryptic number.
“That’s the radio frequency for Ranger HQ. If she knows anyone with a working ham radio, and if she changes her mind and wants the Rangers to handle this, all she has to do is swallow her pride and make that call. Our radio is monitored twenty four hours a day, seven days a week.
“Tell her it’s a three day ride. But in case of an emergency our men can trade out ponies at a friendly ranch about forty miles from here and can make it in a day and a half.”
Mrs. Montgomery had something to say, but hesitated.
“Go ahead ma’am.”
“I think the only working ham radio in town is in John Savage’s bank. Rumor has it he bought it from Crazy Eddie, our town prepper. Or stole it after Eddie was murdered.
“In either case, I don’t
think he’ll let Red use it to call in the people who are going to arrest him.”
“That’s disappointing to hear. In that case, if she needs us, tell her to make a bee-line to the Rocking 8 ranch. It’s about forty miles from here, on the eastern side of Interstate 35. They’ve got a working radio and can call us. That’ll save her from having to go all the way to Austin, and get us on the trail sooner.”
“Okay. Anything else?”
“Do you know her well enough to talk some sense into her?”
She laughed.
“Probably not.”
“Then that’s all. Thank you again.”
“No problem.”
It was a rather odd coincidence the pair was discussing the shortage of working ham radios in Blanco.
For at that very moment, in an upstairs room at the First Bank of Blanco, John Savage was plugging his ham radio into a long extension cord.
The cord ran down the stairs and to his portable generator which was running in a back room and vented through a window transom.
Savage was a novice on the radio set. He’d bought it from Crazy Eddie for five gold coins he’d rifled from a customer’s safe deposit box.
Eddie had installed it for him, ran antenna wire along the roof to the antenna of a shuttered AM radio station two doors down, and had showed him how to use it by calling a couple of other preppers while Savage watched.
He hadn’t taken any notes, but had a keen memory. And using a simple radio was nothing hard for a man of his superior intellect.
He sat in front of the unit and flipped the power switch.
-23-
Savage went back to the same source he’d contacted when he was shopping for a killer the first time: A man named Guzman who lived in a suburb of Dallas.
The first time he’d needed him he’d paid Ed Sloan a pretty penny to ride a horse to Guzman to explain to him what he needed to have done.
Sloan had returned a few days later with several things: a saddlebag full of dynamite, a box of blasting caps, and a promise that a man named Jesse Luna was only a few days behind him.
No Help From Austin: Red: Book 5 Page 7