by Joel Shaw
Milton cut him off. ”My buddy Wes here was telling me that Roland and his goon squad work for an associate of his from Kansas City. I guy named William Koch. Do you believe that? These clowns that having been lording over our hamlet are mercenaries. Didn't I tell you boys years ago that something wasn't right about their IDs and badges? The first time they came here they were acting like goddamn cowboys not professionals. I was right. Remember that?”
“Wait a minute. Are you sure? You are taking his word for it?” Harold studied Wes for a few seconds, unconvinced. “What are you doing here? I've never seen you before."
"I came up here on business." Wes told a string of lies: about the well running dry, the empty cisterns and money he owed to William. There was still hope now that Hanson was out of action. Maybe he could still sell his water. Maybe to these locals. What the hell. He needed the money.
"How much water do you have in that warehouse of yours?”
"About ninety thousand gallons. Most of it in bottles."
Jerry whistled. "It's been sitting in that warehouse all these years?”
"Yes. I brought it here in 2021."
"Where from?” Harold wasn't buying the story. Why would anyone transport thousands of gallons of water to St. Cloud back in the day when there was ample water to be had? The drought began in 2021. What was this guy up to?
"From Wisconsin." Wes hadn't expected to be cross-examined. His ribs were killing him. He wasn't thinking clearly. He should shut up, but he didn’t, he needed help.
“Why?” Harold insisted, happy to be the prosecutor in this case. He knew just how uncomfortable it was to be caught in a lie.
Wes was in check. He had already said too much. He spilled. "It's contaminated with Vibrio Cholera. I was ordered to dump it in Wisconsin. I moved it instead. That's the truth fella's. The Black Swans were ordered to help me load it on the train and send it to down to my business associate in Kansas City.” He paused. He hurt so bad that he wasn’t sure he was making any sense. He caught his breath.
“My associate in Kansas City told me that he desperately needs the water. I believed him. I was willing to help him out. It was a win win situation...until I found out that his men came up here years ago. I didn’t know that. Not only that, but they are holding millions of gallons of water hostage. He's been lying to me since the day we met. In the meantime, I’m sure you know this, water has become an incredibly valuable commodity,especially on the black market. The water they are holding is worth billions.
That registered with Harold. His heart skipped a beat. His quarry reservoir was worth billions, too. Billions. Nothing but trouble.
Then, Wes poured precious information. “There’s a portable water-bottling plant on the train. I have no doubt that he intends to bottle the water his men are holding and sell it to the highest bidder." He didn’t mention the contaminated water. His water. He let it slide. Maybe they would forget about it after they saw the water that the Swans had in the quarries.
Harold arrested the slide. "You were going to sell the contaminated water weren't you? You were going to sell it and take the money and run. You know that Cholera is a killer because you already killed with it. You are no better than a terrorist, mister.”
“He is a terrorist. No doubt about it, Cholera kills. I had Cholera when I was a kid. My tribe had...”
“Jerry, please shut the hell up.”
Wes let his head fall to his chest. He was drowning in lies. He wanted to die. Peace? He mumbled, "I was...I...I had no choice. I'm broke. Now I’m broke and busted up.”
Leland couldn’t keep quiet any longer. The more he listened to Wes, the more he disliked the guy.
“Ha. Join the club, asshole. We're all broke. The whole fucking country is broke. Except for the rich fuck's that ruined this country. Like your buddy in KC."
"And you," Leland said, poking Wes in the ribs with his finger. "You're wearing new clothes. You drive a Land Rover. You have money to buy fuel. You hoard contaminated water for fifty years, waiting for the right time and the right price to sell it to unsuspecting customers. You, mister share in the responsibility of turning our country into the Corporate States of America where there is no justice, no hope, no dreams...
Wes couldn't defend himself. He sat in silence, staring at the stain in his crotch. He had never felt so low. “I’m sorry.”
Leland slammed the passenger door. Conversation closed. He had heard enough.
"Let's get him to Faye's. The least we can do his wrap his ribs. We can decide what to do with him later." This was new territory for Leland. He had spent thousands of hours as a boy playing spy/counter spy. Now it was real. Don’t fuck it up. Be cool.
"I second that,"Milton said. "I'm starving." Harold cracked up. "It's beans and rice my man."
"I'm down with beans and rice. Let's go."
ROLAND LEFT FOR DEAD
Roland lay on the floor of the warehouse. A swan-shaped pool of blood spread from the gash in his leg across the concrete slab. His blood. He was in and out of consciousness, groaning, and moaning like a child. The heaping helping of hurt had neutralized the monstrous man.
Sanchez jabbed another ampule of morphine in his leg. He looked at Peters who was cradling the huge, bald head of the man whom had commanded his respect for seventeen years.
"This asshole is gonna die, man." Sanchez tossed the ampule aside.
"Suits me just fine." Peters let the head fall, it didn’t bounce.
"That makes you the CO, Peters. What are we gonna do...Sir?”
"We're going to do the deal. Load the train with as much bottled water as we can pile on it and take it to William Koch, man. We'll do some business when we get there. We're in charge, now. We're gonna be rich, dude. Let's get busy.
"What about Hanson?”
"Fuck him. Leave him there. He’s going to die, anyway.”
#
CHAPTER 23 -AMBER MEETS LELAND AND HAROLD
Wes was completely at the mercy of the strangers. He wasn't thrilled about having to spend time in the company of the lower classes. Uneducated peasants that they were. He would have to suffer their company until he healed. He wished for his satellite phone. He had left it in the desk at his warehouse. He had to make it back there, somehow, and call his wife. Maybe she could send help. Now, he had to heal, that's what most mattered.
Milton had almost forgotten the blunder that had occurred earlier in the day at Faye's. "You sure you want to show your face at Faye's, HC? She might have the shotgun in hand, waiting for your return."
Harold was thinking the same thing. "I hope she will take the time to listen to me before she pulls the trigger. I’ve decided to tell her about the quarry."
Milton was tempted to make a joke but the seriousness of the topic prevented him from doing so. "It's about time, HC. What brought you to your senses?"
"Let's say I had an epiphany."
"A what?"
"An epiphany or awakening. My mind cleared. I saw things the way they really are."
"Whatever. That's good, man. I hope she's ready to listen."
"I think you should take her to the quarry, Dad." Leland had given this a lot of thought. Why bother trying to describe it with words? “Once she sees it, she might be less likely to hate you for it. I think it will help her to understand your strong desire to keep it a secret."
"I like the way you think, son. That's a great idea."
"You guys can take this rig," Milton said. I'll keep Wes company if Faye will let us stay at her place."
"Thank you, Milton. I appreciate that." Wes was pleased to have Milton’s company. My bodyguard.
"No problem, Wes. I'll get you wrapped up and we can talk over beans and rice." Milton winked at Harold, hoping Harold and Faye would come to a meeting of the minds..."You boys should stay behind with me and Wes. Let Harold take Faye out there." He winked at the Leland and Jerry. They grinned and nodded. Jerry had a story to tell, but Leland’s hand prevented him from speaking.
W
ithin minutes they arrived at the curb in front of Searles'. Milton took the keys and told Wes to stay put. Who better to announce his. He was full of himself. He hammered on the door. “Faye...it’s us...your favorite.... Faye answered the door after two blows, surprising the group of men.
"Did someone tell you we were coming or what?"Milton joked.
Faye stood in the doorway, one hand on the doorjamb, the other, hidden behind the partially opened door, held her shotgun. She looked at the black Humvee at the curb. Her eyebrows raised, her pulse quickened but she said nothing.
"You got your shotgun with you?" Milton tried to lighten the mood. He could see he was having little effect on Faye.
"As a matter of fact, I do. What do you want?” She was weary of visitors. Even ones she knew well.
Harold stepped forward. "We have to talk Faye. Please let us in."
"We talked once today and I’ve been talking all day. What makes you think I want to talk again. Especially to you, Harold. I've had my fill of your lies."
"I..." Harold stammered.
Leland came to his dad's rescue."He wants to show you something, Faye. You should go with him."
"Do you want to show me your hidden quarry?" A smirk spread across her face.
Harold was shocked.
“You didn't think I knew, did you?"
Harold recovered.”No...I mean...yes...I know Jerry told you about the quarry this morning, Faye. I want to show it to you. Will you come with me? Please."
"Can't. I have company."
"Company? Are you in trouble? Are you OK? Before she could stop them, the three men had pushed their way into the dining room, expecting to see some of the phony Homeland Security goons holding her captive. Instead they saw a three-legged German Shepherd standing between he and two very dirty, disheveled females. They men stopped in their tracks and stared, for a good long while. They were speechless at the sight of the women.
Milton came to his senses. “Well, now, who do we have here?" he asked. His tone had reverted to smooth coolness. He was on the hustle.
“Let me be the first to introduce myself. My name is Milton Webber and I am very pleased to meet you ladies.”
Faye warned them off the scent. "Behave yourself, gentlemen. These women have traveled a long way to get here and from what they have told me I dare say they have left a few bodies along the trail. I would be on my best behavior if I were a male standing in this room at this moment."
Amber, somewhat embarrassed, stood and stepped forward with hand extended. "Hi, my name is Amber; this is Sheila, here.” Sheila nodded from where she sat.
“We’re not as dangerous as Faye said,” Amber continued. “We don’t kill everyone we meet.” She laughed briefly before realizing that she may have given the wrong impression. “I was k...” She didn’t get to finish.
“No, just the assholes,” Sheila interjected with a scowl.
Milton extended his hand. “Nice to meet you Amber, Sheila. I promise that I ain’t no asshole.” He smiled as he wiped his hand on his pants after shaking Amber’s hand. She was one dirty girl.
Harold was quite proper as well. “Hello, My name is Harold. This is my son Leland and we’re not assholes, either.” He laughed and it felt good.
Jerry cut in line. "My name is Jerry Goodfeather. Very nice to meet you, Amber. I like your name. You’re Native American aren’t you? I can tell a redskin when I see one, “ he grinned, “I’m a redskin, too. Can you tell? What’s your tribe? I grew up on the Sioux Indian Res. My...” Jerry made contact with Amber’s hand and quickly forgot what he was talking about. He felt a yearning inside which he had never felt before.
Faye observed the chemistry between the two youths as they touched.
"Don't say I didn't warn you, Jerry,” she said. She knew exactly what Jerry was feeling and lord it was heart-wrenching; she had been so lonesome of late.
She had once invited Jerry into her bed but he had graciously declined. It was awkward. She was twenty years his senior. That was years ago. Good for them. Good for them. This town could use a baby.
"Nice to meet you Jerry Goodthunder." Amber pulled her hand from Jerry’s grip, then with great anticipation and tears in her eyes, she turned to Leland.
"My name is Amber Kirby." She waited for a sign of recognition. There was none.
"My name is Leland Cooke, Amber. So, what’s up? Where did you two come from?"
The name Kirby registered with Harold and he knew what she was going to say before she said it. He couldn’t contain his excitement.
"You came from Texas, didn't you? Good gravy, you're Jade's daughter, aren't you?
Amber nodded enthusiastically, pleased to have finally been recognized. Validated. This was Family. She blushed. “You’re my mom's first...I mean you and my mom...I.." She was tongue tied and twisted.
“Yes. Your mom and I were lovers.” He pulled Leland close. Leland, this is Amber, your...half sister.”
Before Leland could reply, Harold held his arms open for Amber. “Can I give you a hug?"
"Sure, Mr. Cooke. A hug would be good, right now, if you don't mind the dirt and the stink." She blushed. Just her luck that she would meet her family looking the way she did.
Harold held her close, trying to prevent his tears from flowing. "How is your mother? She didn't come with you did she?"
Amber pulled away and looked him in the eyes. “No. She died a few days ago. She told me about you and Leland just before she died. That's why I'm here. I have no family left in Texas. Nothing.”
She reached for Harold again, clinging to him for comfort. This was the feeling she needed. The touch, the warmth, the tenderness. She could have fallen asleep in his arms.
Sheila was checking out Leland. His hair was wet still from his recent swim, and he was clean; the cleanest one in the room. “Hey you...you got a shower or something? I need to clean up."
Amber laughed uneasily. She released Harold and approached Leland. "Don't mind her Leland. She's gets ornery when she's dirty, and she is really dirty...Can I get a hug from my brother?" She looked into Leland's eyes after they hugged. “Which one of us is the prodigal child?”
Leland smiled, he drew Amber tightly to his chest. “Uhhh...both of us I guess.” He held her briefly then pushed her away, embarrassed. He had noticed her foul odor, he was she hadn’t noticed the tubular bulge in his pants. Why now? Was it obvious? Shit, now she’s going to think I’m a fucking pervert or something. He looked at Sheila. She hadn’t missed the bulge. She was staring directly at it with eyebrows raised. A new sensation washed over him. He closed his eyes, trying to hide his virginity. Lust just stole the show.
"What do you think, Harold? Can these ladies tag along with us and get cleaned up at your...whatever you call it...pond?" For Faye, this day was never-ending. She was tired. Just get it over with, she thought. “Come on Harold. It’s no big deal.”
Harold had the courage and now was his opportunity to let go of his obsession. He knew he had to say yes. He had to let it go. Like a child, he had to learn to share and be civil about it.
He replaced his grimace with a smile, “That’s an excellent idea, Faye." He wanted to say, I was an idiot and I know it. Please forgive me.
Amber took the cue. “We would really appreciate a shower or a bath, wouldn't we, Sheila?"
"How many times do I have to say that." Sheila was incensed still by the earlier mention of the Roland Hanson, not to mention all the idle chatter. She was too tired to fan the flames. “Let’s go.”
Milton reminded them that Major Hanson's Humvee was parked outside.
“Why don't you drive these ladies to the...ah pond, Harold? That reminds me.” He turned to Faye. “We have a stranger out in the truck who needs some medical attention. He's got some busted ribs, I think. I told him I would wrap his chest so he can breath a little easier. You got any bandages?”
This is turning into an extraordinary day, Faye thought, shaking her head from side to side. “Unbelieveable...OK,Who
is this guy? Where did he come from?" This better not be that Ranger guy.” She held her breath.
Milton gave her the short version of the long story.
Sheila listened with interest as Milton told his story about running over Major Hanson. It was clear to her that no one in the room liked Hanson. If he was dead, he wouldn’t be missed. She was beginning to feel better. She smiled for the first time that day. "That's a good start. That’s a damn good start.”
"What do you mean good start?” Harold asked.
Sheila stood and walked toward the front door. “Let’s say he had it coming and leave it at that,” she said.
Harold nodded, “Oh, OK. I agree with you. He definitely had it coming."
Leland was closely watching Sheila. She hadn’t said much, but when she did speak, he liked what he heard. Passion. A hot body and a bad attitude...that suited him. He turned toward the door to hide the growing bulge in his pants. He wasn’t thinking clearly, he excused himself. “I’ll bring Wes in.”
“I’ll go with you,” Jerry said. It appeared he had a similar problem.
"I'll get a sheet...”
The boys blushed. Leland looked over his shoulder. Whew. The remark wasn’t directed at them.
“We can make bandages with it.” Faye left the room cradling the shotgun like a newborn child.
Leland and Jerry had to carry Wes to the HumVee. His deeply tanned skin was pale. Clearly, he was losing his fight for life. Faye returned with the sheet and tore it in strips as she studied Wes. She then turned to the group, shaking her head. She was going to be blunt and honest. "This guy is bleeding internally. Wrapping his ribs won't save him. He needs a doctor."
Wes opened his eyes. "Is there a doctor in this town?"
The assembled group exchanged glances, shaking their heads in unison. Faye put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. "We can't help you mister. We haven't had a doctor in this town for several years. Sorry, but that's the way it is."
Faye guided him to a chair and helped him sit."Wrap his ribs, Milton. He'll be a little more comfortable. That's all we can do for him."