Jack put the rifle up to his shoulder and took aim at Shane's chest. He could end this right here and right now. He should end this right now. Something gave him pause.
"Kenny, I can't think straight. Help me," he said.
"What is it, Dad?"
"Shane killed these two men. If I kill Shane and we leave, Long Branch might come to the wrong conclusion and think that I did this. If that happens there will be no fixing the situation between our two towns. There will be more bloodshed."
"What do you want to do?" Kenny asked.
"If we leave Shane alive and I ride back to Long Branch I can explain what happened to them. I'm not real keen on doing that. They almost hung me once and there were a lot of unhappy people in that courtroom that would still like to see me at the end of a noose. Shane wants to see me dead and will not help clear up any misunderstandings."
"You can't go back there, Dad. No," Kenny said. "There has to be a different way. Can we tie him up and bring him with us back to Wheeler?"
He thought for a moment, and then shook his head. Sadness and grief filled him. If Shane was telling the truth, then Wyatt was dead. That made Shane a murderer in the eyes of both towns. He didn't want to think about what Roy would do with Shane if he brought him back alive. He couldn't bring him back to Wheeler.
"No, we can't do that either. Kenny... I don't know if it’s true, but Shane said he did something bad. Real bad. He claims he shot Wyatt," Jack said, putting his hand on Kenny's shoulder.
"What? When?" Kenny asked. He spun around, the muscles on his jaw clenching as he glared at Shane.
"Shane went to Wheeler looking for me. We don't know if it is true or not."
Kenny snatched the rifle out of his hands and stormed over to Shane, bringing the rifle up to his shoulder.
Jack leaped over and pushed the barrel up just before Kenny pulled the trigger. The rifle went off, but was pointed up into the air.
"Dad, what are you doing? He killed Wyatt!" Kenny said.
"I know, son. I know, but think of all the other people in town. We have to put a stop to this, even if it means sparing his life. Look, let's tie him up to this tree and leave him here where he can't hurt anybody. We'll ride back to Wheeler and get Chief Howell and a party of people together first and then come get Shane and demand Long Branch send someone in charge to talk with us. The Chief was right about not riding in there alone. They've got more manpower than us. We can't go back there. We would be at their mercy. That's something I don't want to risk again," Jack said.
"I don't like this, Dad. We should just kill him."
"I'm of half a mind to do the same thing, Kenny, but we have more to think about than just our emotions. Wyatt’s like a brother to me, and if Shane killed him then I hope he rots in hell forever. But if we go down that road and we let emotions rule our actions we'll be no different than him. Shane is blinded by his hatred. He's killed two of his own people just to get to me. He claims he killed Wyatt. That's a dark path that we can't travel, Kenny no matter what."
The muscles at his jawline stood out as Kenny ground his teeth together. "You're right, Dad. Let's tie him up and get out of here. I can't stand to look at him."
"Hand me your knife," Jack said.
He picked the rope up off the ground and cut the hangman's noose off a foot above the knot. The rest of the rope he handed to Kenny. Jack grabbed Shane's arms and dragged him over to a tree, leaning him up against the trunk. He looped the rope around Shane several times, binding him to the tree.
Once he was done, he placed the hangman's noose in Shane's open palm and closed his fist around it. He would send a message to Shane. He could have killed Shane for hanging him but he was letting it go. Now it was in Shane's hands.
With Shane secure, Jack cautiously approached the horse stuck in the underbrush nearby. The panicky beast was the only horse remaining out of the three that came with him from Long Branch. The rest had bolted during the firefight and subsequent hanging. He untangled the lead from the bush the horse was stuck in and soothed the animal by patting its neck, scratching it behind the withers, and calmly talking to it. To his great relief he saw that the saddlebags of food were undisturbed. Once the horse had calmed down, he mounted it and took the rifle from Kenny, extending his hand out to help him up into the saddle.
With one last look at Shane, they started down the trail to Wheeler.
"Once we’re in a less vulnerable position we can let Long Branch know what happened here. We can meet with somebody in charge in a neutral place and put an end to all of this. They can have a trial and deal with Shane, or if they don't want to do it we'll have a trial in Wheeler. He will have a fair trial and face justice," Jack said.
Jack set out on the trail with a heavy heart. He hoped that Shane was lying to him just to cause him pain. Why would he have shot Wyatt? Just to get at Jack? It seemed extreme. Then again, he had shown no qualms in killing the two escorts from Long Branch just so he could exact his revenge.
Shane had already proven there was little he wouldn't do. Jack thought of Amy and Danny who were home alone, unaware of everything that had happened, defenseless. He was sorely tempted to turn around and end the man's life, but knew that the lecture he'd just given to Kenny held just as true for himself. If he began to needlessly kill out of fear or hatred it would change him. He would be no better than Shane. Shooting someone in self-defense was one thing. Killing an unarmed man was another. He wouldn't shoot Shane in cold blood. Shane would have his day in court and then face justice.
He would continue to travel the path he knew was right and remain honorable.
Chapter 17
Chief Howell held three fingers of his right hand up, and then lowered a finger at a time, giving Dutch an indicator as he counted off three seconds. He would give them another volley of covering fire as Dutch and the younger biker ran from the motorcycle club to the church carrying backpacks full of supplies. He put his eye to the rifle’s scope and controlled his breathing. As the third second passed he opened fire. His shots plinked all around the snipers positions forcing them to keep their heads down, unable to return fire.
Dutch barreled across the street lugging a heavy pack over his shoulder. He lifted his shotgun and fired it at the snipers on the rooftop. The weapon wasn't made for shooting at such a long distance and the shots fell harmlessly short, blowing out glass display windows far below their target.
The young biker passed Dutch as he ran across the street, wisely choosing to spend his energy on moving his feet instead of engaging in a gun battle where he was at a disadvantage.
Both men poured through the door, and Roy slammed it shut behind them. The two bikers dropped to the floor, panting with from the exertion of their run.
"You've boys have got some balls of steel. Balls of steel," Roy said.
Dutch opened one of the backpacks and produced a pistol, which he handed to Roy, and a fifth of whiskey.
"Damn, Dutch. I was only joking around about the whiskey," Roy laughed. "How is everybody holding up over there?"
"They're ok but starting to get worried. We've got seven guys in the club right now, plus four old ladies. Six of the guys have working bikes," Dutch said.
Roy upended the bottle of whiskey and then passed it back to Dutch. "Six? With your bike and mine that’s enough for us to get the hell out of dodge if we ride double."
"How do you figure, Roy? Eight bikes in all, we can only take--"
"That's what I'm saying. Just the crew," Roy said.
Dutch snatched the whiskey bottle from his hand and gave Roy a hard look before storming over to where the Chief sat.
"Drink up. I know Wyatt was a friend of yours," Dutch said.
His mouth watered at the sight and that familiar craving deep inside of him woke up at the sight of the amber colored liquid sloshing around inside the bottle. He wanted to turn away and refuse the drink, proving himself stronger than he was, but his hand went out automatically. Just one more drink would dull the pa
in. Just one more.
He tilted the bottle up, relishing the sweet burn as it hit his throat. His empty stomach protested against the harsh liquid, but he kept drinking until he felt the familiar warmth spread throughout his body and the first hint of numbness in his mind.
"What's it going to take for you two to bury the hatchet on this and end your pissing match? I've lived here my whole life and you've always had a hard-on for the club. We were doing a lot of things we shouldn't have been doing back in the day, but we've been out of that heavy shit for over fifteen years. When you sent Roy's boy upstate he got us out of that business. What more do you want from us? You going to let these people die because of the past?" Dutch asked.
Howell took another swig from the bottle and returned it to Dutch. "I don't know. It's not that. He hates me for putting his boy away and I hate him for reminding me that his son was the only one to walk out of that house alive. Roy is like a crooked nail sticking up out of the floorboard that I keep stubbing my toe on, always there to remind me."
Dutch laughed. "That's about as good a description of Roy as I've heard. I'd say you hit the nail on the head. He can be kind of an asshole, can't he? Listen up. He’s ready to make a run across the street for the bikes and leave everybody else here. I can't let that happen. We're not all bad people, Chief. Give us the rifles and we can help you. We can help the town. Just give us a chance."
"You're right. I need help. People's lives are on the line here. If you can convince Roy to let your people help, I'll let bygones be bygones, although I still don't know how we can get the rifles out of the station."
"You let me worry about that," Dutch said, then got up to walk back over to where Roy sat.
What was he getting himself into here? Giving rifles to the bikers? It was either that or they would all face certain death if he couldn't break them out of this church. Shot by the snipers on the roof or slowly starved to death. They were pinned down. Roy could shoot him the instant he had his hands on a gun, but he had to take that chance.
Roy's hushed conversation grew more heated as he argued with Dutch, loud enough for the entire room to hear.
"Let them shoot up the whole town. I don't care. This stinking town has taken everything from me. At least they'll take him out, too," Roy said.
Dutch pushed Roy roughly by the shoulder, sending him reeling backwards. "A lot of guys in the MC got parents and grandparents in town, Pres. We need to start thinking about the bigger picture. The MC needs to change."
The two men stared at each other and finally they seemed to reach a silent consensus. Roy strutted over his way, a look of scorn on his face.
"You really want a bunch of low down, dirty bikers to help you? You want the outlaws to take off their black hats and put on white hats? Is that it? You think it's going to be that easy?" Roy asked.
"I'd just as soon watch all of you ride out of town forever and leave these decent folk be. They'd be better off without you. But I've got no other choice," he said.
"Ride out of here. That's what I want to do," Roy said.
Dutch stormed over, eyeing Roy and the Chief.
"He's got the rifles and we've got the manpower. You two are gonna have to work this out or none of us will make it out of here alive," Dutch said.
"Looks like we've got ourselves a Mexican standoff," Roy said.
"Is there nothing he can say, Roy? We all heard Wyatt's last wish--" Dutch said.
Roy spun around, hate pouring from his eyes as he pointed a finger at Dutch. He was about to shout something, but all of the steam suddenly went out of him. "You're right, Dutch. He did. How could he ask me to work with this man?"
Roy turned and looked at Howell accusingly. "How am I supposed to help you? Every time I see your face I want to put my fist into it."
Dutch shook his head in disbelief. "What’s it going to take for you two to get this out of your system?"
Roy paced the floor and the silence hung heavy in the church, the only sound in the room the scraping of Roy's boots on the wooden floor.
"You want my men to help you? Fine. You'll get your help, but first we got a few things up to clear up between us." Roy dropped his pistol to the ground and stripped his leather jacket off. He squared up opposite of the Chief and began to roll up the sleeves of his flannel shirt.
"Yeah. Yeah, I reckon we do." The Chief unbuckled his belt and set his holster and pistol on the ground. He raised his fists up in front of him, matching Roy's boxing stance. If that's what he wanted, he would get it. This had been coming for a long time.
Chapter 18
His horse climbed up the last few feet of elevation and came to the trail's summit, revealing a breathtaking view of the Allegheny Mountains that stretched out before him. Forests ranged up and down the sides of the mountains, extending into every square foot of the remote area. It was a pristine and untouched wilderness. Not a single inch of bottomland had been cleared for pasture or fields. Even without a proud display of autumn colors or summers greens, the virgin forest was an impressive sight.
Now that he had Kenny back with him and saddlebags full of food to sustain Danny, his case of nerves had calmed somewhat. The air was brisk and clean smelling. The unspoiled land around him filled him with a sense of hope. Even after everything that had happened, he still felt that coming here had been the right decision. The countryside was full of resources. Trying to survive in Baltimore would have meant slow starvation and a savage fight for resources. He had to believe that it would have been harder to survive in the city than it had been here.
"Dad, I still don't understand how all of this started. Shane said you killed his son. Did you?" Kenny asked cautiously.
He sighed, saddened by the memory of the incident at the train. Kenny had a right to know. He didn't hide anything from his children in this new world. There were no inconvenient truths or moral lessons that could wait until they were older. This new world was a harsh mistress, and if you weren't prepared for it mentally, physically, and spiritually she would toss you aside without mercy.
"After I sent you back home to fetch a horse and wagon another group of people showed up at the train. As soon as they saw us they opened fire. The Chief made it out, but I turned back to get food for your brother. I didn't want to go home empty handed after finding such a huge windfall.
"I filled a backpack full of canned soup and when I went to leave there was a man blocking my path. A young man, not much older than you. He had a gun. I tried to talk him out of letting me leave without a fight. There was so much food there. You saw how much there was, Kenny. Nobody needed to die over a backpack full of food.
"I think he must have felt like it was his job to keep me from leaving. I couldn't make him listen and the rest of his group was getting closer. I tried to leave but he raised his gun. I had the drop on him and I shot. God, he was so young, Kenny. If there were anything else I could have done, I just...
"After that the Chief and I hurried home, not knowing that those people had captured you," Jack said.
"You did what you had to do. Don't feel bad about it. I still think we should have killed him. He's not going to give up. He'll keep coming after you," Kenny said.
Jack didn't want to have that argument again, and was glad when the trail ahead suddenly demanded his full attention. He reined the horse in as they began to rapidly descend the mountain along a narrow section of trail that passed along next to a cliff face with little more to grab on to than a few small spruce trees. The treacherous slope was covered in small rocks that constantly shifted under the horse's hooves. It was a long way down. A thousand feet or more down until the slope ended at a raging river.
They finally made it across the narrow section and the trail widened and the ground became firmer as it went through a heavily wooded area.
Now that they were out of danger, Jack gave the horse free reign to travel at its own pace down the hill, and leaned down to see if the saddlebags held any more bottles of water. His throat was dry and still
ached from the brutal hanging.
A tree trunk just in front of him exploded into a shower of splinters as the sound of rifle fire reached his ears.
Panic rose in his chest and he fumbled with the reins, whipping his head around looking for the source of the gunfire. Seeing nothing, he spurred the horse off of the trail and up the side of the mountain.
Another gunshot erupted and kicked up dust from the rocky soil underneath the horse.
"Over there, Dad! He's right there," Kenny shouted, pointing to a pile of rocks off in the distance.
Shane was perched in a pile of rocks, a rifle pressed to his cheek as he aimed at them.
Jack turned the horse sharply around and spurred it on towards a copse of trees, putting the thick trunks of the trees between them as cover. He then steered the horse away from Shane's gunfire traveling in a random pattern instead of a straight line.
They crossed the crest of the ridge and Jack pulled the reins up short. Just over the ridge the woods ended in a forty foot straight drop off. There was no way around. He wheeled the horse around, frantically searching for a way out. Shane had picked his spot well. His vantage point gave him a clean shot at the length of the trail, the only way off the ridge. On both sides there were steep slopes down and here the cliff prevented an escape. The only possible way down or up from their current position was within range of Shane's gunfire.
Shane was likely still in the same spot, knowing full well he had them trapped.
"How did he get ahead of us?" Kenny asked.
"There were a lot of switchbacks on the trail. He must have found a shortcut. Take the reins, Kenny. The only way out is past him. Find a clear path and I'll keep his head down," Jack said.
"Alright. Hang on tight," Kenny said.
Kenny took the reins and spurred the horse on into a trot. When they grew within range of Shane he pushed the horse into a full gallop and the horse flew down the hillside, its hooves kicking up dust and rocks.
EMP Aftermath Series (Book 2): Desperate Measures Page 11