“This will be a chance for you to see if they might have what it takes.”
“Oh, hell, Jim. I haven’t even said I’d take the job yet.”
“But you will.”
“Now how in thunder do you know that?”
“Because I know you, Tom. You may live in a modern world now, but your soul is that of an old cowboy. You still believe in right and wrong and you believe in justice. Justice ain’t always pretty. But it’s essential if peaceable people are gonna be able to live their lives without looking over their shoulder all the time. Somebody’s got to step up to the plate and make sure that justice is administered.
“And I know you well enough to know you never run from a good challenge.”
They were off again at a good pace, and Tom had time to process his friend’s words. He suspected that Jim knew, just like Linda and Jordan knew, that it was just a matter of time before he agreed to take the sheriff’s job.
Now that he had Linda’s blessing, he knew it too. He just hadn’t admitted it to himself yet.
What Jim said was true. Tom did love a good challenge. And somebody had to do it. Why not him?
They didn’t stop again until they came to a road where someone had seen the outlaws take the woman the night before.
Mason Jobe, who everyone called Mace, was the best tracker they had. Tom knew him from the old days too. He was a good man.
Mace dismounted and took a good look at the tracks in front of them.
“Yep. This is them. Twelve, fifteen hours old. They’re moving pretty slow. Probably because she can’t stay on the horse at a full run. Not with her hands tied in front of her.”
Tom said, “Well, that’ll work to our advantage. Maybe we can catch them before they have a chance to harm her even more.”
-34-
They rode another hour, with Mace at the point, watching the tracks in the dirt.
A couple of times the ground turned rocky, and he could no longer see the tracks. He stopped occasionally and examined the rocks, to see if any had been kicked over.
“You look for dirt on top of the rocks,” he explained. Normally, rocks only get dirt on the bottom. The rain and the wind keep the top of the rocks clean. If you find any rocks with dirt on the top, they’ve been kicked over. That means that somebody rode through here since the last rainfall.
“And the last rainfall was just two days ago. See this rock, with the dirt on top? The dirt is still damp. It hasn’t had time to dry out in the sun. It was kicked over within the last couple of hours.
“We’re getting close. We’d best slow down now.”
Scott remembered from the old westerns he watched as a kid that outlaws sometimes used tricks to evade the posses behind them. One was to enter a stream or a river, then to walk or swim up or downstream and come out at a different place on the other side. Sometimes trackers spent hours trying to pick up the trail again.
Another trick was to leave the trail on rocky ground. An inexperienced tracker might have a hard time knowing that their prey had changed course and gone off in a different direction.
But old Mace wasn’t an inexperienced tracker. He knew to watch for all the signs. Besides the dirty rocks, he examined every patch of dirt they came across for signs of a hoof print. And on each side of the trail, he watched for broken twigs or tree branches.
They were moving at a walk now, and Mace had already given them the universally recognized signal to stop talking, by putting a finger to his lips.
At one point he dismounted, and tied his horse to a mesquite tree.
Without a word, the others followed suit.
They left their horses behind, and proceeded on foot. Cautiously, for they didn’t know if the outlaws knew there was a posse after them.
Until this point, no one had ever chased the bad men who had a habit of doing hit and run attacks on the citizens of Kerr County. The citizens themselves were terrified of the outlaws. In previous incidents, the frightened citizens generally stayed at home, licked their wounds, and considered themselves lucky that they hadn’t been killed.
But this… this was different.
In recent weeks, the gangs had been getting more and more bold. Instead of striking mostly at night, they’d been doing daring daylight raids. Some of them no longer covered their faces with bandanas or masks.
There was a sense that they felt they finally owned the city of Kerrville, and could do as they pleased.
They were also getting more and more vicious. They had always shot dogs who tried to defend their homesteads. But lately they shot all dogs on sight. Even the old or infirm. Even the dogs who showed no aggression.
In addition to getting increasingly more and more afraid, the homeowners had been getting angry.
That was why they’d entertained the thought of reestablishing the sheriff’s department.
It was getting quite ugly in Kerrville, and they’d had enough.
The attack on Bill Nowak and his family had been particularly brutal. The Garza gang had come knocking on the door, saying they were merely looking for a drink. When no one answered the door, they became angry. One of them shot a cat out of a tree in the front yard.
A young girl of eight, Bill’s granddaughter, ran from the house screaming, “They’ve shot Toby!”
She picked up the cat and cradled it in her arms. The man who’d shot it punched her square in the face, knocking out several teeth and sending her reeling.
The entire family came to the girl’s aid.
It didn’t matter that none of them were armed. Garza himself shot Bill in the head in front of his screaming family. Then they noticed his daughter Amanda.
One of the gang started to rape her, and she begged them, “No, please! Not in front of my children!”
It was then that a boy of three ran toward her, screaming, “Mommy!”
One of Garza’s men drew his pistol and shot the young boy through the chest. Then he put Amanda in a choke hold.
The gang mocked the others as they ran to help the old man and the child.
“Ain’t nothing you can do for them,” Garza laughed. “They’re way beyond help.”
The men forced a dazed Amanda upon a horse, tied her hands to the saddle horn, and ran a rope beneath the horse, tied to her ankles.
“We’re gonna go party now,” Garza told her. We’ll bring you back when the party’s over. And if you resist or put up a fuss, we’ll kill everybody else when we get back.”
Then they rode away, leaving two dead and the young girl bleeding in the dirt.
News of the attack spread quickly.
Bill Nowak was an elder statesman in the community. He and his family were well loved and respected.
This, finally, was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Jim Colson quickly rounded up some of the more fearless men to form a posse, and collected Tom almost as an afterthought. If he was considering becoming their sheriff, he needed to see the type of situations he’d be dealing with.
The Garza gang didn’t seem to be in any particular hurry to get away.
Perhaps it was because they could only move so fast with a rider tied to the saddle horn and unable to control the horse.
Perhaps it was because they were on rough terrain in the hill country above Kerrville. A wrong move on horseback, and one their horses could easily come up lame.
Or maybe they were in no hurry simply because no one had ever had the gumption to come after them before. They fully expected to be able to assault Amanda at their leisure, then kill her and leave her body to rot in the hills.
Or, if they were inclined to be in a generous mood, to abandon her to find her own way back home, beaten and barefoot and miles away from anywhere.
There was only one problem with the gang’s plan. They didn’t know that there was a band of six angry men right behind them.
-35-
Mace had done his job, and led the posse to the outlaw gang. Now he gave up the point position and Jim and
Tom took over.
As they neared the camp, they could hear the deranged men, drunk on stolen whisky, whooping and hollering. Even before they came into view, Tom cringed. Because from the noises he was hearing, he had a pretty good idea what was going on.
They crept over a grassy hill, directly above a small clearing some fifty yards away.
It was a dreadful scene. Amanda had been stripped completely naked, then leaned across a boulder. Her hands and ankles were tied to stakes driven into the ground on all four corners of the huge rock.
She was completely immobile and helpless to stop the men who, one by one, were taking turns raping her.
From their position, the posse could plainly see her face. It was bruised and bloodied.
She seemed barely conscious. But at least she was still alive.
Tom took over, determined to make sure she stayed that way.
Tom was the only one among them who’d ever killed a man, first in Cambodia, then at the compound three weeks before. He was confident he could do what needed to be done, without hesitation.
Jim, he was confident, could do likewise. Jim was like him. An old school man who believed hard in right and wrong, and saw no problem administering justice when it was needed.
The others he wasn’t so sure about.
Tom waved them all back below the hilltop.
“Okay, we’ll form a line. Our man on the north end of our line will line up on the bandit farthest to the north. Our second man will take their second man. So on and so forth. They’ve got two more men than we do. After you take your shot, the last two are fair game. Shoot for the chest. If you take a head shot and miss, they could go after the girl.
“Do not shoot if the girl is in your line of fire. Now then, if any of you are not willing to take another man’s life, say so now.”
He looked around at all the faces. No one said anything.
Tom could see the anger on each of their faces. They were ready.
“Okay, once we take position I’ll give you about ten seconds to acquire your targets. Fire when I do. Everybody make sure you’re locked and loaded and your safety is off.”
There was no more to be said. The group turned and crept back up to the top of the hill.
Tom, second from the left of the line of posse members, sighted in on the second outlaw from the left. He just happened to be the latest man in line, standing behind Amanda and getting ready to take his turn at her.
Ten seconds ticked by. Tom drew a breath, released half of it, and gently squeezed his trigger.
The man fell backwards, a hole in the center of his chest. He hit the ground with such force his head bounced and his ball cap went flying.
Even as the others were firing around him, Tom lined up his second shot on one of the two extra outlaws. As he pulled the trigger, though, he could see the man’s head explode. One of the other posse members was a quicker shot than Tom. Tom’s bullet passed through the man’s heart as he was falling, already dead.
In ten seconds, it was over. None of the outlaws had a chance to run for their weapons. They’d miscalculated and thought none of the townspeople had the guts to come after them.
It was a fatal mistake.
After the melee, only one man was still moving at the clearing below them. He was writhing in pain, and cursing a blue streak.
From one of the rifles to his right, another shot rang out, and the man instantly stopped.
Tom didn’t know who fired into the wounded man. Moreover, he didn’t really care.
They ran down to the scene, Tom and a couple of the others checking the outlaws, looking for any more survivors. Two men went to untie Amanda and find her clothes.
One posse member, who Tom didn’t recognize, stood over the body of the man getting ready to mount the girl and fired a round into his chest.
Then, after a couple of seconds, another round. And then another.
Tom went over to the man and said, “He’s dead. Let it go.”
But even as he finished his words, Tom felt Jim’s hand upon his shoulder.
“Let him be, Tom. That’s her fiancé, David. Let him get his anger out.”
Tom understood. He watched as the man emptied his entire magazine into the dead outlaw. Then he looked around at the carnage they’d wrought.
Only when he knew Amanda was dressed did he go to her to make sure she was okay and ready to go back home.
-36-
By the time Tom went to her, she was already being consoled by her fiancé.
Tom held her hand and looked into her eyes. And tears formed in his own.
Tom had once been so close to the Nowak family he was almost considered one of them. Amanda herself used to call him “Uncle Tom.” He’d taught her how to swim, and then to fish. She once asked him questions about boys when she was thirteen and entering her awkward stage. She felt more comfortable talking to Tom than she did her own parents.
Tom could still hear the way she laughed when he told her to tell all the boys at school not to try to kiss her. That if they did, Tom was going to come and get them. So they could help him clean his gun collection.
Later on she told him a boy made a pass at her. It was the same boy who’d asked her what her Uncle Tom did for a living. Tom told her to tell the boy he was a hit man for the mafia.
Tom had always had a special place in his heart for Amanda. He’d always been very protective of her.
But this… this was something he could not have prevented.
Or maybe he could have. Maybe if he’d taken the position of sheriff sooner, the word would have gotten around that there was law in Kerr County again.
Maybe the outlaws would have gone elsewhere to perform their evil deeds, or wouldn’t have done them at all.
Tom didn’t know it now, but for the rest of his life he’d feel guilt for what happened to this woman. And he’d struggle with how much of the blame was his share to carry.
He gently said to her, “Mandy, I’m sorry. I should have been there to prevent this. As God is my witness, I swear to you that no man will ever hurt you like this again.”
She was in a daze. She was hurt and confused. But her relationship with Tom was still such that she fell into his arms instead of David’s.
Tom held her and very tenderly brushed his fingers through her hair. He rocked her back and forth, just as he did when she was a young child and was upset about something.
She was the closest thing to a daughter he’d ever had. He would spend the rest of his life holding true to the promise he’d made her. Both of them knew he’d lay down his life for her if it needed to be done.
“Now then,” Tom said. “Let’s get you home. They’re worried sick about you.”
David and another man helped her onto David’s horse, and he mounted up behind her. They slowly started back down the hillside. Tom watched them go, knowing he and the rest of them would soon catch up. He’d send one of the riders ahead to tell her mom she was on her way back, and to be ready to comfort her with whatever she might need.
Jim stood over the body of Manuel Garza, who until now was one of the most feared bandits in the county.
He asked, “What do we do with these bastards, sheriff?”
All eyes turned to Tom.
He didn’t argue. Didn’t dispute the title.
“Let the coyotes feast on ‘em. Mount up, boys. Our job here is done.”
-37-
Scott stumbled around on his injured foot for four days before he finally decided to do something about it.
A typical hard-headed man, he always put off medical care as long as possible. His general outlook was “it’ll heal on its own.”
But sometimes injuries need a little help, and when his foot swelled to the point he couldn’t put his shoe on, and hurt so badly he couldn’t put any weight on it, he finally capitulated.
But he still wouldn’t go see a doctor. They were way too busy dealing with real patients. Patients who needed them much more than Scott did
.
After he’d been shot a few months before, Scott woke up in the hospital. He had no clue how he got there, until a kind nurse named Becky Tomlin explained that Joyce and Hannah sent Robbie looking for him.
Robbie had found Scott unconscious and near death in his living room, and had taken him in to the emergency room.
Over the weeks that followed Becky gently and expertly brought him back from the brink and nursed him back to health. In a world where doctors were in short supply, there were many days when hers was the only face he saw.
He shared with her his hopes, his dreams, his worries and concerns. And she in turn shared hers.
During his hospital stay he and Becky became good friends.
And he trusted her enough to let her make a diagnosis and give him some advice on his injured foot.
What he hadn’t realized, though, was how it would make him feel to see her again.
“Well, hello, Scott. I was beginning to think you’d developed amnesia and forgotten your promise to come and see us occasionally.”
But she wasn’t chastising him. She said it with an easygoing smile. And a warmness that told him she’d genuinely missed him.
“John told me about Joyce. I’m dreadfully sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you. I didn’t know John had been up here. Did he get hurt again?”
“Oh, no. John’s been picking wildflowers and bringing them up here to the nurse’s station every Tuesday since he got released from the hospital. He says it’s the least he can do for the angels who saved his life. It’s a small gesture, but he’s a really sweet guy. Most of the staff just swoons over him.”
“Including you?”
The question caught her off guard.
“No, not me. He… he’s not my type. But he’s a sweet loveable hunk anyway. Let’s talk about you. How are you holding up?”
An Undeclared War (Countdown to Armageddon Book 4) Page 13