“We Texans take a lot of pride in our highways and bein’ able to travel anywhere like the devil’s on our tail. ’Cause, sometimes, he is.”
Dillon mightily enjoyed her little chuckle at his words and the bright eyes she favored him with. Reaching out, he took hold of her hand, enfolding it with his own. “Such a delicate thang,” he crooned to his wife in a singsong voice.
“Dillon.”
Her tone said it all, the passion she felt for him and the fact that she was coming to care for him deeply. Her fingers twined with his and they rode in silence for miles, his Kylie taking in everything around them.
“No advertising signs,” she finally uttered. “It’s nice.”
“Just a man and his land. And the woman that makes it all worthwhile.”
She squeezed his hand, a heady sweetness that soon flowed through him like syrup.
“Should be comin’ up on a little town soon,” he continued. “The Ranchero Dining establishment is about twenty miles beyond. That’s where we’re meetin’ with Sheriff Taylor. It’s TexMex eatin’ at its finest.”
“So, what’s your favorite?”
“For breakfast, I’m partial to the spiced up eggs with tomatoes and the slab of toast. Dash is good at cookin’, but he doesn’t like that type of spicy food.”
“Hmmm…as your wife, I just might be partial to cookin’ up some of that spicy food. That is, if Dash doesn’t mind.”
“Guaranteed, he won’t mind. He could use the help. Kylie.” He brought her wrist to his lips and pressed a quick kiss. “Don’t you push yourself. Yep, I’d like some of your cookin’. I like my wife happy better, though.”
“You say the nicest things.” Her flirtatious tone surely did hit the right spots.
“If you ain’t good for a man’s soul.” Dillon paused, rubbing her hand on the side of his clean-shaven face. “Kylie, you gotta stick close to me, pardner. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
The sound of her soft voice held anxiousness over his meeting with Sheriff Taylor, and Dillon swore his heart tried to lodge in his throat. He promised himself nothing would happen to her, his precious wife. “Woman’s intuition?” he asked, keeping his tone neutral.
“Yes.”
She’d taken a few breaths before answering him.
“Sparks, I got enemies who wouldn’t mind shootin’ my hide full of holes. Most of ’em are in the Union. Don’t mean they can’t cross the border. It happens.”
“Yeah, and there was Jeb.”
Dillon kept his gaze focused as they soared down the highway. Still, he nuzzled his woman’s palm. A moment later, he enfolded her hand tightly to gain her full attention.
“Kylie, listen to me. I don’t want you to think. If need be, grab one of my guns, aim, and squeeze the trigger.”
“What about the safety?”
“Here, when a gun’s drawn the safety is off. Ole Betsy doesn’t have a safety.”
“Talk about Quick Draw McGraw. That should be your rifle’s name. An old kid’s cartoon,” she explained before he asked. “He was a horse sheriff, fastest gun in the West.”
Given his 150-miles-per-hour-plus speed, Dillon kept his laughter contained, but let a chuckle erupt. “Here it was Quick Draw the Law. Fastest gun in the west. Yippee yi-o ki-a. Riding around your way. Here comes Quick Draw the Law. The high-falutin’est, fastest shootin'est horse in the West.”
“McGraw, the Law,” she tested out, a laugh in her voice.
“I had an ornery cow pony I named Quick Draw. He’d lash out a hoof at any provocation. Finally, put some bells ’round his back hooves. He couldn’t stand the loud jangle and quit.”
“You know what.” Her voice was an invitation to him.
“What, sweet thang?”
“That’s one thing I really like about you. You’re what I call a solution man. So many of the guys I knew would throw a whiney fit over whatever their latest problem was, or expected me to help them as if I were their mother.” Her little thumb stroked his hand as she pondered. “I should have told them to go home to their mother. They weren’t ready for a real woman yet.” She sighed loudly. “But, that was virtually taboo. To say something like that.”
“A man cain’t be a real man without a real woman. And a woman cain’t be a real woman without a real man.”
“Has your culture always been that way?”
“Yes and no. That’s a long discussion. But me, Dono, and Dash come from good stock.”
With his gut lettin’ him know trouble was lying in wait like a riled rattlesnake about to cross his path—yet, was best faced down because that was the only path—Dillon sped them toward the small town, a community of like-minded souls that had gathered together some sixty years prior.
“Five Spurs,” she read the sign. “Why are there railroad tracks around that giant silver spur?”
“There are five railway spurs, from all points in Texas proper, and one of the families specializes in making spurs, plain to fancy. Also, Sparks, we used spurs for survival and weapons in the border wars. Great can openers and bark strippers.”
“Hmmm…a weapon. The Case of the Silver Spur Murder. I can see that Perry Mason type of story unfolding. The fully dressed victim, a cattle baron, lying in a pool of his own blood. The antique silver spur had been forcefully plunged into the hollow of his throat, as if it would stop his haranguing words forever… I read those Erle Stanley Gardner books as a teenager.” She took a breath, then asked, “Perry Mason?”
Dillon grinned, not only at Kylie’s little dramatization but because she opened up to him. “Dono and me used to watch Perry Mason religiously. Don’t you worry, I’ll get you some of those survival spurs.”
“Spurs that jingle jangle,” she teased.
Dillon tensed as he rechecked the stats displayed on his scope dial.
“What is it?” she instantly asked.
“We picked up a tail. It’s on the Tesla’s camera scope. Don’t recognize the auto. They’re matchin’ my speed exactly. Have been for a while.”
“What now?” She’d stiffened and her hand’s temperature dropped inside his.
“Arnie, Sheriff Taylor, may have some intel I need about our pursuer. Best to continue onto the Ranchero.” Dillon studied all his recorded information rapidly. “Looks like someone had an ambush set up, once one of us traveled this route.”
Gently releasing her hand, he gradually increased their speed and focused on getting them to their destination as fast as possible. Whatever occurred, it was best where there was good cover, and other friendly guns.
“Are you going to contact Dono and Dash?”
Her tiny voice jerked at his heart.
“Not enough time for them to arrive like the cavalry, Kylie.”
* * * *
Dono let the sack of oats he carried fall to the barn floor. For an instant, it felt as if his skull cracked wide open. As had happened before, the sinister vision flashed before his mind’s eye.
“Dash!” he hollered. “Dash, where the hell are you? We gotta leave now! Dillon’s in trouble. We gotta save Kylie. Where are you?”
Racing out of the barn, he halted and scanned for his brother. Mentally, he screamed for Dash, sending the message to his brother’s mind as they’d done during the border wars.
Quick moments later, Dash ran toward him from the far corral. Motioning to him, Dono sprinted for the house and headed for the entrance to their underground garage. There was no way he could get the Katydid powered up for flight soon enough. They’d have to rely on Dash’s pickup truck.
With Dash closing in, Dono hauled open the heavy steel door and rushed down the gradual wind of steps.
“What?” Dash shouted behind him, his boots ringing on the metal stairway.
“Vision,” Dono yelled. Not stopping, he charged toward the truck’s passenger door. “Dillon’s being ambushed.”
“Oh hell. Get in!”
Leaping in, Dono thrust open the driver’s door. In a split s
econd, Dash launched into his seat and fired up his prized mechanical beast. At the same time, he opened the garage’s panel doors. With a strong lurch and a huge growl, the large truck sped outside.
Briefly squealing the tires, Dash whipped onto the ranch’s road, then barreled down it like no one else could. In complete control, he constantly edged up their speed until the settled dust on the road formed a constant cloud behind them.
“How far are we behind them, do you reckon?”
Dash blasted his horn at an armadillo about to cross the road. Wisely, the critter halted, then trotted away with surprising agility.
“About twenty, twenty-five minutes. You know how big brother likes to drive.”
“Yeah, the devil on his tail. Start hauling out the guns, will ya.”
Dono flipped open the lid to the large long metal container between him and Dash. After checking the action and readiness of each weapon he mounted it on the dashboard.
“I shoulda known something was up.” Dono re-buckled the leather straps on his holsters, tightly securing them to his thighs. “Dillon always takes Betsy with him when he senses trouble.”
“Why the dang fuck did he take Kylie with him?” Leaning forward, Dash watched the road ahead like a predator.
“Must’ve had a reason.” Dono wiped the blade of each throwing knife, then slid it into a sheath next to their guns.
“Yeah, he’s blind with passion. He’s so besotted with her…well, hell, we all are.”
“Yeah, we all are. Did you try open contact yet?” With one eye, Dono observed the zigzagging rabbit who’d barely escaped the truck’s tires.
“Can’t. His signal is being monitored. Someone’s using heavy duty tech stuff. And I don’t want them knowin’ we’re coming.”
“Yep. Right move.”
With a sharp bounce, the pickup sped onto the pavement. Dash steered them into the proper lane, then roared down the highway. “Up periscope,” he threw toward Dono.
“Bring ’er up. I’ll scout a trail for you.”
Dash punched his panel button. “She’s comin’ up. Use that eagle eye of yours.”
Reaching forward, Dono took hold of the side grips that maneuvered the high-powered scope. Mostly, they used it when they were on the back country roads, watching out for friend or foe, or the telltale gleam of a rifle canon that could be tracking them for a kill shot.
With practiced precision, Dono reported on the traffic ahead as Dash wove in and out at a blazing speed, the warning blare of his horn almost constant for a time.
“All clear for the moment.” Dono kept the scope trained on the highway. “I can see the Five Spurs’ sign.”
“I ain’t slowin’. Unless you tell me there’s a problem.” Dash thundered past another truck similar to his own
“Not so far, little brother. Keep her smokin’ down the road.”
“We finally get a wife, one designed by God himself—”
”What the hell fuck?” Dono interrupted. “There’s a six truck phalanx coming toward us, just leavin’ Five Spurs. They’re damn for certain lookin’ for our hides.”
“Scope the road through town. See if it’s clear. There’s a stretch of ground—”
”Yup, got it.” Dono angled the periscope, searching the old winding road. “Clear. Soon as you can hit the dirt.”
“Keep watchin’. Tell me how close they get when I peel off.”
“Gonna be close, Dash. If I got your spot.”
“Time for the chicken not to cross the road!” Dash shouted.
In concert, they both howled a rebel war yell.
Dono kept the scope steady on the lead truck, even though his blood pumped fast and hot for battle. Camera-scanning it, he gleaned all the information he could for later.
“Here I come, you bastard hounds from the pits of hell!” Dash accelerated, if that was possible. The pickup roared straight toward the phalanx.
Dono couldn’t rightly tell if the enemy slowed, despite observing through the scope. What he did know is that he released the grips and seized a rifle canon while lowering his window.
Dash briefly screeched the brakes, and they violently swung off the highway onto the rocky ground.
Chapter Thirty-Six
General Hayworth One Foot
“Come on, baby,” Dash crooned under his breath, “you can do it.” With his hands like vises on the steering wheel, he eased the wildly fishtailing truck onto a straight course. Bumpily, they flew toward Five Spurs.
“All that dirt you kicked up blinded ’em,” Dono hollered.
“Blast the nuts off those yellow-bellied scum!”
“Blasting!”
Boom. Boom. Boom. Dono recoiled with each fired shot. With one eye on his rearview mirror and one on his giant side mirrors, Dash watched the lead pickup swerve back and forth. Smoke poured from its engine, and the driver turned off, his chase ended.
Remounting the rifle cannon, so it could power up again, Dono grabbed a second two-foot pulse rifle all in one swift motion and took aim out the window.
“Good kill, brother. Do it again.”
“They’re putting the laser cannon sights on us,” Dono yelled back. “I’ll keep taking out the lead truck. Maybe that will deliver the message.”
“Damn,” Dash uttered, looking for any way to increase their speed or find cover before the laser weapons could lock onto them.
Boom. Boom. Boom. The pickup slightly shook with each fired pulse.
“Got ’em!” Dono triumphed. “One more shot left before power-up. I don’t think whoever the bastard polecats are, they expected this kind of battle.”
“Laser lock on us,” Dash warned. “Rock formation ahead.”
“Firing!”
Boom. The faint sound of shattered glass reached Dash’s ears as he wove them around several scrub trees toward the stack of boulders.
“Got the windshield because the sun reflected off it. Lucky hit.”
Dono mounted the pulse rifle and snagged Killer, a sharp shooter weapon designed for taking out an enemy at a phenomenally long distance. He and Dono had used previous models during the border wars, mostly. From any high-point advantage, they’d picked off tank drivers as they emerged and enemy officers who led scouting parties.
“Laser lock still on us.” Dash charged the pickup for the boulder formation’s minimal shadow.
“Go! I’ll take any shot I can.”
Several moments later, Dash heard the high whizzing sound of Killer, then smelled the white sulfur residue. Braking hard, he skidded behind the small formation into the shadow, then whipped a U-ey in the direction of Five Spurs. “No lock,” he shouted.
Behind them, a fine spray of rock fragments exploded outward. The laser had been fired in a last ditch attempt to strike them.
“Woooweee, that was close,” Dono hollered. “Think I plugged a grill.”
“You’d think we was fightin’ a war again. Who are those snake-belly bushwhackers?”
“Dunno. But those trucks are ridin’ on Union-made springs.”
“Could be a slew of old enemies. Hell!”
Dash steered toward a relatively flat area, a gully wash that proved to be hard enough not to spin his tires. Hearing Dono fire again, he flicked a glance in his rearview mirror. Two trucks raced pell-mell after them, at an angle. A third trailed behind, a thin stream of white smoke coming from the front of the hood.
“Dang it! Missed,” Dono growled.
“You shot the headlight deader than a doornail. Hang on, brother. We’re about to land on pavement.”
Dash pumped the brake as much he could without high-bucking them over onto the truck’s roof. The pickup’s front tires slammed into the edge of the road. It took a giant hop as Dash gunned the engine, then sailed a short distance.
“What a butt wallop,” Dono yelled the instant they struck.
Wheeling around sharply, Dash nearly put the truck on its side. Instead, the tires gripped, squealed, and spun for a split second. The
pickup lurched forward, and they raced for Five Spurs proper.
Moments later, Dash slowed a bit. Two armored patrol jeeps from Five Spurs approached them. “Woopee. The cavalry.”
Hammering with his fist, he banged out a code for assistance on his horn, then opened the contact channel. After a quick explanation, he was given the go ahead to continue through the town.
Easing up on their speed for the length of Five Spurs, Dash focused on negotiating the gently twisting road. Though, most folks would be aware of what happened via an alert by their peace officers, and would stay out of their way.
“Almighty above, that was closer than a shavin’ razor.” Keeping Killer gripped in his fist, Dono automatically checked the weapons he’d used. “Yep, powered up, if we need ’em. How’s the pickup?”
“She’s holdin’ up and ready for more. I wanna know who those rat’s ass bad guys are. We’re gonna get ’em once big brother and Kylie are safe.”
“Yep. But we gotta stay concentratin’ on Kylie and Dillon.” Dono’s grim tone, what Dash called his gunfighter voice, sliced to Dash’s core quicker than sunlight through fading fog. He could always count on Dono to set him back on course.
“Yep. We do. We’re about to ram-charge down the highway. Anymore vision stuff?”
“Nope. Just a knowin’ we need to get to the Ranchero. Now.”
* * * *
Dillon scanned the Ranchero’s parking area from where he’d placed the Tesla, and liked what he saw. No enemy in sight.
“They’re still on the road, behind us far enough, Sparks. We’re okay for goin’ inside.”
Shifting toward his wife, he opened one arm. “Come on over here, sweet thang. It’s safer this way. And I can activate the Tesla’s shield easier.”
“Shield?” She crawled toward him, settling on his lap quickly.
“Yep. Like invisible armor, so it can’t be sabotaged. Once I shut the door it will switch on.” Tightening his hold on her, Dillon fisted Betsy, then launched them out the door.
Setting Kylie on her feet, he wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders and steered her toward the cayenne-red double doors. “That’s Arnie’s olive green Hummer over there. Got his brand on it. He always liked ridin’ the tanks.”
Branded by the Texans [Three Star Republic] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) Page 33