Liberty's Hammer

by Reed Hill

  Chapter 15

  Three Eagles Ranch

  Outside of Hunt, Texas - July 5th, 2017 – 6:36 p.m.

  Finnegan and Haslett emerged from the garden path and waved to Brodie as they approached, “Hey, we need a gas can. The quad ran out just past the apple orchard.”

  Brodie had told the boys a dozen times to fill them up after every ride, but he chuckled thinking about how often he did what he was told when he was ten. He was lucky if he could get them to wear their helmets half the time. “There should be a few of them in the back of the barn on the west side,” Brodie pointed. “Use the red tank for unleaded.”

  “You have your own tanks?”

  Brodie watched Haslett and Finnegan head to the barn as Jeff Doyle approached, “Yeah, I’ve got a one-thousand gallon tank for unleaded and one for diesel, and a five hundred for kerosene. I took a chance in the winter and filled them when gas went down to five dollars a gallon.”

  “That was a good bet.” Doyle folded his arms across his chest.

  “Yeah, but it about bankrupted me at the time,” Brodie chortled, watching as Finnegan and Haslett walked out of sight past the stable. It had been a good buy with unleaded going for over seven dollars per gallon and diesel going for close to eight most places. “Good tax write-off I suppose.”

  Brodie bent his knees trying to stay fresh, and motioned them to little bench near the garden. It felt great to get off his feet. There almost wasn’t quite enough room on it for them, but Brodie was too tired to care.

  “I still don’t know about that Haslett.” Doyle rocked back on the end of the bench. “Giving him your son’s single shot bolt-action .204 was pretty smart.”

  “Thanks,” Brodie nodded and gave the politico a glance over his shoulder. “If he’s going to pull anything, he’ll have to do it rather slowly.” Brodie knew that the .204 hornet was a spunky little round, but he was more comfortable with the single shot aspect of the gun for Haslett. Even with the little thirty-two grain bullet, it packed quite a punch in the little varmint rifle, but was still palatable to Sara for Sam to use at ten years old. In truth, it was a hotter load than the guys out in the fields toting around their AR-15s, but Sara didn’t need to know that. Sam’s little rifle was more accurate at four hundred yards than several of the bigger ones he had. More importantly, it was a real bear to load, with the short-action bolt and held only one round, with no detachable or housed magazine for more rounds. It was a ‘load one–shoot one’ weapon, perfect for a child. Brodie thought it was a great solution for dealing with Haslett. Limited rate of fire and limited ammo. If Haslett is really that good, he will be just fine. Not happy – but controlled.

  “I know what you mean about him,” Brodie pushed a rock with his boot. “But what are we going to do with him? Chain him up in the barn?”

  Doyle offered back a feigned look of consideration, before waving it off with a chuckle. “No, but it sure puts us in a bind.”

  “That’s no lie,” Brodie scoffed scanning the stable and barn area. “What puts us in a bind is Mr. Meacham.” Brodie looked down and wagged his head a little. “We’ll need to figure something out better than an old tractor parts crate in the barn.” Brodie bristled a little, thinking about seeing the Solicitor General’s body wrapped in clear plastic painter’s drop cloths lying in the big crate.

  Brodie abruptly felt his world tunneling down and his mind’s eye went to the sight of an old Hajji curled up in ball, bleeding in the dust. Determined to control the vision, he closed his eyes and pictured Sara running after the boys as they chased a butterfly at Kerrville Lake by Schreiner Park. Lauren called out to them from a picnic blanket, teasing them to run faster and laughing. As the feeling passed, Brodie breathed again and opened his eyes.

  “Yeah,” Doyle reached to the nearby bed and picked one of the yellow flowers, examined it closely. “Thanks for handling that too.” Brodie could sense that neither of them wanted to take that discussion much further. Both knew how terrible a circumstance it was, but they had to make do.

  “I didn’t even bring it up the Haslett situation to the Governor,” Doyle offered. “That man’s dealing with enough.”

  “I hear that. Part of me wishes I didn’t know.” Brodie wondered where Haslett and Finnegan were. He expected to see the pair heading back with the can. They must have filled it and gone directly back through the orchard to the quad runner.

  “Listen, Nick,” the serious tone in Doyle’s voice made Brodie turn and face him, “I’ve got another issue that I thought you may be able to help with.”

  “Sure, what is it?”

  “We needed to coordinate with the Texas Guard Command staff, so we risked a call out on the landline,” Doyle sat up and winced as he stretched his back. “In hindsight, it probably wasn’t worth the risk.”

  “Yeah, I wouldn’t think any of us want a thousand ATF coming down on us like rain.” Brodie pushed his shoulders back and put his hands behind him on the bench for support.

  “What we need is a clean phone.”

  Brodie scratched his beard. “Clean phone, huh?”

  “Yes, preferably a wireless.”

  “Oh,” Brodie leaned back forward and put his elbows on his knees, “we’ve got a dozen guys out here with wireless, including me. But, I don’t know if any of them are what you’d consider ‘clean’ in any sense that they aren’t associated with anybody.”

  “Yeah, that’s the problem. Most of the phones would probably show up on a federal trace program in no time at all. We need a wireless that’s not easily tracked, to give us more time.”

  “I got a pre-paid wireless in my truck,” Danny Haslett emerged from the tall sweet corn with a couple of red gas cans. “I can let you all use that. I picked it up Friday as a back-up and it’s still in the plastic. Never did bust it out of the packaging and turn it on.”

  Brodie got up and pivoted to Doyle as the tall politician gave a slow blink of his eyes and took a big breath. “What do you think, Jeff?”

  Doyle didn’t answer right away, but rather put his hands on hips and looked down at the dusty grass near the garden. “All right. Go ahead and get it.”

  Haslett bobbed his head in agreement and shuffled off toward the barn.

  “If it’s still in the package sealed up, I think we could be in business,” Doyle gave Brodie raised eyebrows that looked like hope.

  “Agreed,” Brodie watched the small, wiry guy walking toward the barn where Finnegan joined him. Haslett spoke to Finnegan for a minute, pointing to Doyle and him, before handing off the red plastic can and heading toward the bevy of parked vehicles. “I don’t know what the alternative is, if the thing is open or looks like’s been returned or something.”

  “Let’s hope it’s legit,” Doyle adjusted his belt and put his hands back on his hips.

  “Yeah,” Brodie allowed a small grin, “I’m not a big fan of ‘hope for the best’ as a back-up plan involving the ATF and the FBI.”

  “No doubt.” Doyle’s mind spun thinking about the dangers of the day. He thought the days of flying bullets were well past him. “I hate to be a bother, Nick,” Doyle eyed the 9mm on Brodie’s hip. “But, there’s one last favor I need.”

  “Name it.”

  *****

  Three Eagles Ranch

  Outside of Hunt, Texas - July 5th, 2017 – 6:58 p.m.

  Callie strolled to the door, clicked the lock over and went to the bed where the pile of clothes sat waiting patiently, neatly folded. Sara had laid out a pair of newer looking jeans as well as a wraparound red and white floral skirt. Next to them were a simple denim shirt with pearl buttons and sleeve snaps and a pale yellow poplin blouse. A tank top along with a pair of white cotton panties and a lacy yellow thong lay underneath, both of which still had the tags on them. There were also a couple of bras, one lacy and one plain, also with the tags still on. At the floor were three shoe choices, a set of yellow flip flops, a pair of white, heel strapped sandals, and lastly a pair of low cut, brown leather bo
ots with a pair of white socks sticking out the top.

  She slowly let the robe slide off her and hung it up on the edge of the closet door, wincing from the twinge in her neck. Yanking the tag off, she slipped into the thong, lacy bra, and white tank top, and pulled on the jeans. They were a snug fit, but still pretty comfortable. She threw on the elegant shirt, setting the sleeves at elbow length, and tied the shirt into a knot at her belly button. Sizing the boots quickly to her feet and seeing they were pretty close match, she finished dressing.

  A quick check in the mirror showed the outfit as workable, but when she looked closer, all Callie could see was one exhausted cowgirl. She sighed as she wound her hair back into a quick loop and wandered back to the vanity for quick touch up of lipstick and mascara from her purse. In the tub, she had beat back the urge to just clean up fast and get to business, instead deciding to take time to revel in the balm of the water. The bath had done wonders for her frayed demeanor, and she almost felt like herself in the warm bubbles. Images of the attack replayed in her mind, but she forced them out.

  There were also a few moments where she wished Jeff would have joined her in the soapy warmth, but she pushed the images away each time as well. She was drawn to him, but Callie didn’t know him well enough to have those thoughts. But still, the thoughts had come to her, and she liked them and found they offered a little comfort. Jeff did seem to care about her in an authentic way. You can’t fake that kind of a moment, the embrace outside.

  Callie swiftly cleared a small smudge of mascara and headed out through the bedroom, and down the long hall. Passing through she sensed the march of time in the growing faces of the kids in the photos on the wall as well as family moments that spanned many years, so she slowed to enjoy the walk through the Brodie family historical record.

  A trip to the beach

  Mountain lake fishing.

  Family portrait in front of a Christmas tree.

  Grandparents with the kids in a park.

  Happiness.

  She stopped and touched a photo of one of the kids in a diaper on the tile, smiling with dirty knees and some kind of cake or brownie all over his face, a young, short-haired Mrs. Brodie laughing in the background out of focus. Is that what a complete life looked like? Could I pull it off and keep my career going?

  Her boot heels thumped the red tile floor as she made her way down the hall and out into the living room and toward the main areas of the house. Wandering through the vaulted room with the massive, beautiful sandstone hearth, she marveled at it as well as the exposed beams, oak paneling and accents. The decor was quite dated, but Callie could see that the craftsmanship was exquisite underneath the myriad and nicks and scratches.

  “You feel human again after that bath?” Sara greeted her from the kitchen with one fist on her hip.

  “It was glorious, Mrs. Brodie,” Callie took a step closer to her and gave her elbow a gentle squeeze. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Look at you,” she perused the outfit smiling. “I didn’t know what you’d like, so I laid out a few things. Looks like everything fits pretty well. They are going to mistake us for sisters.”

  “It was sweet of you,” Callie came to the kitchen and leaned on the counter, noticed that Sara Brodie was wearing almost the same thing except she wore her denim shirt loose and had on sandals. “Thanks so much for the bath and the clothes. Well…everything, Mrs. Brodie. ”

  “Call me Sara, please. It’s my pleasure. It’s the least I can do.” Sara Brodie’s caring eyes offered a sympathy that she hadn’t expected. It was a sisterly look, and Sara just gave a little bob of the head and a pat on Callie’s arm. “Don’t think anything of it. It’s good to have another lady around here to keep these guys honest.”

  “Speaking of that,” Callie stood a little taller and glanced around. “Where is everyone? I should be helping the Governor, if I can.”

  “They’re in the dining room. “Sara twisted and pointed through the kitchen to the large arched doorway beyond. “They were about to make a conference call, so you can probably just join them. I doubt you missed anything. They were just getting started.”

  “Thanks so much,” Callie titled her head and gave Sara another brief smile. “I think I’ll head in.” Sara was so kind and generous. As she moved to the dining room, Callie pondered what choices Sara would have made differently. She had the husband, kids and ranch life. Was Sara’s life more fulfilling? Did she have regrets? Callie enjoyed the tempo of her life, but seeing the photos on the wall and the ranch, she wondered if was all worth it. Sara seemed so content, so calm and self-confident. She seemed happy.

  Callie moved past Sara through the kitchen toward the dining room. As she walked through the doorway, she saw Jeff do a double-take and rapidly re-focus while Chief of Staff Joe Lopez also looked up, although his attention went immediately back to the avocado green wall phone which lay on the center of the table. She smiled, enjoying Jeff’s reaction as she slipped into an empty chair. The Governor was mid-sentence and she did her best not to disturb him.

  “—so in that case, General Stein, I would think we would not want to go too far into the city center proper. Is that right?”

  The voice on the line replied without hesitation, “That’s correct, Governor. Proceeding into the urban area is fraught with all kinds of challenges. The insurgents will very likely deploy part of their forces outside and then fall back into pre-defined fire sectors under the guise of retreat. We’ve seen this before in Kosovo, Iraq, and Afghanistan. It’s difficult to resist for young, inexperienced soldiers, and can be deadly.”

  “Yes, I imagine it would be,” Governor Chase scratched his check and peered at Lopez and Doyle.

  “So, the main tactic we’re likely to see is a hit-and-run scheme where they engage us outside the city and then provide a false retreat back to the kill zones, trying to suck us into cross-fire and mortar positions with limited or no viable paths of retreat. It’s best just not to get sucked into the ploy.”

  “We haven’t had been able to get any satellite imagery,” a different voice spoke up on the other end, one that had a more distinct Texas drawl. “Those are federal assets and we’ve not been able to gain the cooperation from the DoD, Homeland Security or intelligence agencies to use them as you know.”

  “Yes, we’ve come to expect that at this point,” Chase shifted on his seat, frowning.

  “We’ve used one of our remaining drones on observation missions in the past hour, and, prior to it being shot down, we were able to obtain some information on the troops and vehicles. The city insurgents are difficult to assess, but we have decent intel on some of their hard assets. There are enough vehicles to transport approximately five thousand in the El Paso sector. In Del Rio sector, the troop capacity is closer to four thousand. We don’t have new information in the southern front, but last reports from Blackhawk recon runs suggest that McAllen sector has close to six thousand and Laredo is close to four thousand.”

  “Has your general thinking changed on strategy for our troop movements and assignments?”

  “No, sir,” it was the first speaker with the subtler, lilting southern tone once more, “we think the battle plan is sound. The El Paso group will approach and attack from the north with three battalions while 1st Battalion makes a hard attack from the east on the El Paso airport side. We expect them to engage and fall back and defend the intelligence center at the Post proper.

  “It’s a similar situation in Del Rio, where the insurgents hold the Air Force base. We will try to hit them hard from the southeast there, and run a pinching maneuver from the north of the base. Again, that’s a difficult attack given that they hold the base and have defensible positions and they have a perimeter set up around it. The good news is that they appear to have moved most of their troops to the air base leaving only perhaps one-quarter in the city center, some seven to eight miles to the west.

  “Laredo will be very difficult because of some natural obstacles in the eastern
lake and the river to the west. We frankly don’t know where they will set up, but as of now, it appears to be the north and the southeast.

  “Without a doubt our most worrisome sector is McAllen, where large numbers have already pushed north and set up a very sizable force in the areas of Edinburg and east along Highway 104. Our best assessments conclude that this force will eventually be used to move up the gulf coast to Kingsville and the Naval Station there, from which they would continue on Corpus Christi given enough time.”

  “The picture you’ve painted is rather grim, General Stein.” Governor Chase got up and began to pace with his hand over his mouth.

  “The drone imagery provided us with some new information as well. There looks to be an amassed cadre of vehicles and men around the boot heel region, sir. It looks mostly non-military, meaning trucks and sport utility vehicles.”

  “Well, that doesn’t sound too awful,” Chief of Staff Lopez tried to find the bright side as he wiped sweat from his brow. This was odd since if anything, Callie felt chilled in the room. She chanced a glance at Jeff Doyle from her vantage point a chair away. He focused on the conversation with his intense eyes, but Callie wanted to reach out and touch his arm.

  “The troublesome part is that the drone captured images of so many of them. They are located in the eastern part of Big Bend State Park. Hard to get an accurate count, but they would number perhaps three thousand, with accompanying vehicles. This has been a fairly recent development. We’re not sure what the intent is.”