Rhineland Inheritance

by T. Davis Bunn

  “I am coming in to collect him,” Pierre repeated. “Along with fifty fully armed men. I suggest that you avoid a major incident and release him voluntarily.”

  There was a spell of heavy breathing in the other room, then, “Cut him down.”

  “Sarge—”

  “Do it!”

  The rope was released. Jake’s legs crumpled under him and he slumped to the floor. He tried to catch his weight with his hands, and gasped at the shock. Then he cried out again as the blood started flowing back into his limbs.

  Comforting arms were soon there to support him. “Take it easy, Jake.” Servais and Sergeant Morrows lifted him in a double-arm sling. “Can you walk?”

  “Maybe.”

  They made their stumbling way into the front room. A phalanx of men were still pouring in from the entrance and fanning out throughout the stockade.

  “Hold it a minute,” Jake ordered in a commanding yet weak voice. He nodded his head toward the MP sergeant and said to Morrows, “Let all but that man go.”

  “But, sir—”

  Jake raised his voice as much as he could, and called out, “All who will leave peacefully are free to go, with the understanding that if any of you ever enter this city again you will be arrested on sight.”

  Morrows tried again. “Sir, I don’t think—”

  “Pass the message along,” Jake cut in. “Take down the names of every man here. They’re going to be shipped out by the next possible transport.”

  “Yessir.”

  “See they are loaded up and escorted out of town. Remind them there are a thousand witnesses outside ready to testify.”

  “More,” Pierre offered.

  Jake turned and looked at the sergeant for the first time since he had been cut down. He discovered that he felt no anger. “Morrows, place this man under arrest for Conduct Unbecoming.”

  “Try kidnapping and striking a superior officer,” Pierre corrected. “Among other things.”

  The clarity of vision remained vivid, isolating Jake from the hatred in the sergeant’s gaze. Jake saw a man shackled by his own rage, a mouthpiece for the beast. “I meant what I said,” Jake replied. “All I want is a charge strong enough for him to receive a dishonorable discharge.”

  “Jake, listen to reason,” Pierre insisted.

  “What, you want my gratitude? You want me to grovel in the dirt and beg for mercy?” The sergeant snarled. “You’re nothing, Burnes. And you never will be.”

  Jake was certain that all this man wanted, whether he knew it or not, was to provoke Jake into being like him. That was the purpose of the beast, to consume a person with rage and the desire for revenge. Then whatever happened, the outcome was sure. The beast would have conquered once more. Jake said quietly, “Morrows, I just gave you an order.”

  “Yessir. Consider it done, sir.”

  “Okay,” Jake said. “Let’s go.”

  As they moved for the door, Pierre asked quietly, “Are you sure you want to let them go like that?”

  Jake struggled to put one foot in front of the other. “I’m sure.”

  He stepped through the entrance, and stopped once more.

  Against the backdrop of a night untouched by city lights burned a sea of candles. Little flickerings of hope in an ocean of darkness. Jake’s appearance was greeted by a rustling sigh, a sound as quiet and pleasant as the wind. He willed himself to stand erect, and proceeded down the stairs as best he could.

  Frau Friedrichs, the woman whose son he had first taken into the clinic was there to greet him. “I could not find your treasure,” she said in her heavily accented English. “But there were other ways to help.”

  Jake nodded. “I cannot thank you enough.”

  She smiled, an effort which creased her face in unaccustomed lines. “So now we both share the same difficulty, how to repay what has no price.”

  He looked out at the surrounding faces and asked the woman, “How did you bring all these people together so fast?”

  “I did not,” she replied. “You did. You see, Captain, you have many friends.”

  Jake spotted Karl standing beside the closest jeep, and agreed, “Good friends.”

  “Come on, Jake,” Pierre said. “We need to get you back to HQ.”

  As they passed Karl, Jake said, “I owe you much.”

  “A life, perhaps?” Karl asked, with a smile in his voice.

  Jake nodded. “A life.”

  “It is good to settle debts,” Karl said. “I shall report to you tomorrow, Captain.”

  “Not early,” Jake said, and allowed himself to be bundled into the jeep.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The first words Jake heard upon awakening were, “I hope you are thoroughly ashamed of yourself, soldier.”

  Jake shifted his aching head, licked at a gummy mouth, and managed, “Water.”

  A hand far gentler than the voice slid in behind his neck and raised him up, while another brought the cup up to his mouth. Jake gulped greedily.

  “Easy, soldier. There’s no hurry.”

  He drank, sighed a deep sigh, and drank again. “Thank you.”

  The hand helped him to settle back, but did not pull away. Not yet. “Going into town all alone like that. I ought to shoot you myself.”

  “It had to be done,” Jake whispered.

  “So you say.”

  “I couldn’t take an entire squad, looking for a tunnel that we weren’t sure was even there.” Jake cracked open one eye. “Is that coffee I smell?”

  “I don’t know if you deserve it,” Sally replied, reaching for the thermos. She poured a cup and said, “Can you manage?”

  “I think so.” He pulled himself up, groaning at the thundering protest in his skull. Jake reached to the back of his head and felt a bandage. “What’s this?”

  “Six stitches,” she replied. And with that the brave facade slipped away. “Oh, Jake,” she whispered. “How could you?”

  The sight of her quivering lip gave him the strength to push his feet to the floor. He reached over, grasped her arms, and drew her onto the bed beside him. He cradled her in his embrace, felt her trembling form, and closed his eyes to the sheer joy of nearness.

  “When Pierre told me what you had done,” she said, “I could have shot him, too.”

  “It’s over, Sally,” he whispered, kissing her hair.

  “This time,” she replied quietly.

  He nodded. She was right. Now he said what he knew he had to say, what he had been thinking of on the drive into town the night before. “This is who I am, Sally. Risks are a part of my life.”

  The stark genuineness of his declaration brought her back far enough to look into his face. Jake went on. “I live on the edge. I guess I always will. I need you, Sally. I want you with me. But I can’t change who I am just to allay your fears.”

  “Take it or leave it,” she said bitterly.

  “No,” he replied, searching for words through the pounding in his head. “I will always take greater care if I know you are there waiting for me. Always. It gives me a reason to come home. The best reason a man could ever ask for.”

  She sighed and found her way back to his shoulder. “What on earth am I going to do with you?”

  “Love me,” he whispered, holding her close. “Please.”

  They sat like that for a time, until Sally forced herself apart

  once again. “They’re all waiting for you.”

  “Who?”

  “Pierre, Morrows, half the division that’s not on duty, Harry Weaver, the kids, Buddy Fox—he’s still here in the infirmary, by the way. Shall I go on?”

  Jake dragged himself painfully to his feet. When Sally started to stand up to help him he said, “No, I’m all right, thanks. Do you think you could find me a couple of aspirin?”

  “Of course.”

  “Give me a few minutes to collect myself. Then I’ll see Harry, okay?”

  She nodded. “I’ll think about what you’ve said, Jake.”
>
  He managed a smile. “A man can’t ask for more than that.”

  * * *

  When Dr. Weaver had finished poking and prodding and pronounced Jake as fit as any man could hope to be after what he had been through, Burnes walked down the hall and into Chaplain Fox’s room. “What are you still doing in bed?”

  “My ribs gave me more bother than Harry or I expected. He wanted to keep me still for another day. How are you, Jake?”

  “Now that I no longer feel my head’s about to come off in my hands, I’m all right.”

  “Pull up a chair and sit down. Sally told me what happened. You took an awful risk.”

  “Yeah, I guess I did.” Jake eased himself down. “Something happened back there in the room when they had me tied up.”

  “It shows,” Chaplain Fox replied.

  “It does?”

  “Sally noticed it too. She came down to talk with me while you were being examined. She says that when she looks at you now she notices something deeper.” The chaplain gazed at him. “I agree. Do you want to tell me about it?”

  Jake struggled for a moment. “I’m not sure I can,” he said.

  Chaplain Fox nodded. “Words can be so constricting sometimes. So incomplete. They are made for the things of this world. But sometimes our greatest revelations do not belong to this realm at all. We are given a taste of the beyond, where words do not exist.”

  “That’s how it feels,” Jake agreed. “Exactly.”

  “I’m glad for you, Jake,” the chaplain said. “Very glad. But I want you to remember something. A life of faith is not based upon the moments of glory. Fireworks are splendid, but they soon fade. What is important is making steady, daily progress toward a life lived in Him, for Him. Do you understand?”

  “I think so,” Jake replied, thinking that maybe he really did. For the very first time.

  “No man can keep up the walk alone through life. All of us need the impetus and the guiding light of faith in Jesus Christ to help us stay upon the Way.” Chaplain Fox bestowed upon Jake his gentle smile. “Now go out there and face the world, and know that He will be there with you.”

  * * *

  The morning sun was brilliantly clear, and strong enough to transform the icy winterland into a vista of dripping, dancing rivulets. Jake walked slowly, exchanged salutes with grinning soldiers, took in the day with the wonder of a newborn. When he came into view of the front gate, the corporal of the guard came rushing over to greet him. “Sure is good to see you up and about, sir.”

  “Thank you, Corporal.” Jake waved toward where Karl and his friends stood waiting beyond the gate. “It’s great to be here.”

  The corporal pointed in Karl’s direction. “They’ve been hanging around all morning, sir. Sally—I mean Miss Anders, sir. She came out a while ago and said you were okay and got them something to eat.”

  “Thank you, Corporal.” Jake limped over and asked Karl, “What have you found?”

  “Nothing,” Karl replied. “How are you feeling?”

  “Sore,” he admitted. “Nothing at all?”

  “Now that we can move without worry,” Karl said, “it is much easier. But no more fruitful. The best two chances we had were bombed shut. Permanently.”

  “The door at the bottom of the second basement staircase?” Jake asked.

  “That was one of the two,” Karl confirmed. “The street was hit just down from there. Whatever was beyond the door is now no more.”

  “At least I don’t have to go down there again,” Jake said.

  “What do we do now?”

  Jake had already decided upon that. “Keep looking. I’ll meet you there in an hour or so.”

  “And if we find nothing?”

  “If at first you don’t succeed,” Jake said, turning back to the gate, “then it’s time to call up the heavy artillery.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Jake’s walk from the gatehouse to headquarters was interrupted numerous times by smiles and salutes and queries about his health. Everyone who had taken part in the raid on the stockade now felt they had a stake in his well-being.

  The HQ central hall was filled to overflowing with staffers. Pierre, Sally, and Sergeant Morrows stood in front, taking charge of Jake’s welcoming committee. Jake endured the attention as long as he could, but felt his patience ebb with his strength.

  Finally he could stand it no more. “What is this, a holiday camp? We’ve got a garrison to run. Back to work!”

  They responded with grins and a slow but steady withdrawal. Jake watched them go, then asked Sally, “Why is it when the colonel gives an order people jump, and when I do they grin?”

  “If it had been the colonel talking under these same circumstances,” Sally replied, “they would have reacted exactly the same way.”

  “For a moment there, I thought I was hearing the colonel,” Pierre said.

  “Me too,” Morrows agreed, heading for the door. “Good to have you back, sir.”

  “Just a moment, Sergeant.” Jake put a hand on his shoulder and drew him back. “Who’s the best demolitions man on our silent squad?”

  “The silent squad.” Morrows’ grin broadened. “I like that.”

  Jake shot him a narrow-eyed look.

  Morrows straightened. “Oh, that’d be Parker, sir.”

  “Can he be cautious?”

  “Pop a lid off a can of soup and not spill a drop, sir.”

  “Right. Have somebody round him up, tell him to get all he needs for a job. Then come back and join us in my office.” He stopped, corrected himself, said, “I mean, the colonel’s office.”

  “Right, sir. How large a job did you have in mind?”

  “About the size of the stockade,” Jake replied.

  * * *

  After the planning meeting was over, Jake rose from the desk. He was surprised when everyone else rose with him. “That’s it, then,” he said. “If we send for the trucks, it means we’ve struck gold. Everything goes into action then.”

  There were solemn nods and excited glances about the room. Jake thought to himself, time to fish or cut bait. The point of no return was about to be crossed. “Good luck, everyone. Dismissed.”

  As they filed out, Pierre approached him. “Are you sure you feel like going through with this today?”

  “No,” Jake admitted. “But we don’t know if Connors is still looking, and if so, how much time we’ve got left.”

  “Or if he’s found something already,” Sally agreed, joining them by the desk. “If he has, or when he does, there will be no stopping him or General Slade.”

  Jake looked askance at her. “What happened to all your care and concern for my well-being?”

  “You look pretty fit to me, soldier,” she said.

  Jake sighed in mock resignation. “Are you sure you know what to do?”

  “If you say that one more time I will scream,” she replied. “Five minutes after we get your signal, you’ll have trucks and men flooding your area.”

  “They’ll be ready and waiting for your word,” Morrows agreed from his place by the door. “Good idea you had, sir, splitting up the contingents like that. Keeps them from moving unless there’s a green light.”

  “Can’t a man have a private conversation around here?” Jake snapped.

  “Just going, sir,” Morrows said, not moving. “I only wanted to say I wished I was heading out with the first group.”

  “I understand your concern, Sergeant,” Jake replied. “But I need you here to muster the troops. Now move out.” When Morrows had vanished, Jake said to Sally, “Don’t forget the documents and supplies. And keep trying to find Colonel Beecham. If you do—”

  “You go tend to your knitting, soldier,” Sally retorted. “And let me tend to mine.”

  Jake nodded acceptance, then glanced at the lone figure still lingering in the doorway. Pierre rubbed his nose briskly and said, “Perhaps I should go make sure the lookouts along the roads into town are in place.”

/>   “Perhaps so,” Jake agreed. When he and Sally were alone, Jake asked, “That’s all the send-off you’re going to give me?”

  She looked long into his eyes and said quietly, “I’m a lot better at hellos than goodbyes, soldier. If you expect me to get used to your risk-taking, this is one little habit you’re going to have to learn to live with.”

  “I hope you give me the chance,” he replied.

  “Come back to me,” she replied, “and we’ll see.”

  * * *

  Jake arrived at the stockade sweaty and clammy; coming back to the place of his ordeal hit him harder than expected. As he was posting guards, a crowd of Germans gathered. They approached, asked of his health, showed him quiet respect. One old veteran from an ancient war even threw him a rusty salute. Jake responded with smiles and a few words, and found himself settling, centering, drawing from them the strength he needed.

  By the time Karl appeared he was feeling ready. “Where have you been?”

  “Checking up on one last possibility,” the dusty, grime-streaked boy replied. “It’s no good.”

  “Then round up your gang,” Jake said, “and have them circulate among these people. None of my guards speak German. Tell them all we’re going to be using dynamite, and that they should stand well clear.”

  Over the next quarter of an hour, Jake watched and waited as Parker and his two assistants wired the brig for demolition, and Karl’s gang completed their passage through the throng. The crowd, however, did not disperse. As word circulated of what was about to happen, the gathering took on a carnival-like atmosphere. The crowd pointed and chattered and waved whenever Jake happened to look their way.

  When Pierre joined him, Jake gestured toward the throng and asked, “Do you have any idea what this is all about?”

  “You’re the one who speaks their language,” Pierre replied. “But I suspect they don’t like Connors’ men any more than you do.”

  “So?”

  “Perhaps they think you are getting rid of the bad guys once and for all.”

  Jake mulled that over. “Don’t contradict them.”