“Either way’s fine with me.”
“Let’s get out of the sun,” Art said, tilting his head at the cloudy sky. Lucas nodded as though he’d made perfect sense, and followed him into the interior. Art walked to the bar and resumed wiping it down. “What can I do for you?”
“Were you here when the doc died?”
“No.”
“What did you hear happened?”
“Same as everyone else. Somebody slipped poison into his drink. Next thing he’s on the floor, foaming at the mouth.”
“Who was working here that night?”
“About a half dozen guys, plus security. Half of ’em are gone now. It’s that kind of business. Appeals to drifters.”
“Any idea who might have wanted to take the doc down?”
“None at all. I liked the man. Had no beef with him, even if the town’s turned into a bunch of brown shirts.”
“How’s that?”
“Nature of man is to abuse any power he’s granted. This town’s no different. We got a council that thinks it can tell everyone what to do instead of working for the people. I’m not interested in playing.”
“You don’t live there?”
“Hell no. Got a piece of property a few miles away, been in my family for years. Nice little cabin. I don’t bother them, and they steer clear of me. Suits me just fine.”
“No love lost.”
“It wasn’t always that way. I just don’t do well with a bunch of schoolmarms telling me what I can and can’t do.”
Lucas eyed him. “This bar a middle finger at them?”
“Take it however you like. Fact is I couldn’t stay in business if half the town didn’t sneak out here whenever they got a chance.”
“Was the doc a regular?”
“Regular enough. He came a couple times a week, usually with friends. Nobody likes to drink alone.”
“Always the same order?”
“Usually started soft, then moved hard by the end of the night. I’ve been told my moonshine’s the best around.”
“Make it yourself?”
Art grinned. “Man’s got to have a few bad habits.”
“My grandpa used to mix up some white lightning that would take the enamel off your teeth, so I have no problem with it.”
Art studied Lucas’s face. “But you’re not much of a drinker.”
“Never got the thirst.”
Art grinned. “Me neither. But a man’s got to do what he’s got to do to get by these days.” He eyed Lucas. “You’re a hell of a lot sharper than the dolts the town has running their law. You a real cop?”
“Used to be,” Lucas allowed. “You were a general?”
Art laughed. “Made it to major in the Marines. It’s a nickname that stuck.”
“You see action?”
“Pretty much every hellhole we ever went into.”
“My grandfather was a marine, too.”
“That was a lifetime ago, wasn’t it?”
“No argument.” Lucas looked around the room. “No theories about who killed the doc?”
“If I had one, I’d have taken care of it myself. Bad for business if your customers keel over from something you served.” He sighed. “I wish I could help you, but I got nothing. Someone had it out for the doc, and they did him wrong. It happens.”
Lucas nodded. “I might stop back around if I have any more questions. You got a problem with that?”
“It’s a free country. Or at least it used to be. Stop in whenever you want. If I’m not here, one of my boys can find me. I usually leave by around ten and let them mop up the rowdies on their own.”
Lucas checked his watch. “How long you figure it’ll take to ride to the trading post?”
The general glanced out at Tango. “You got your work cut out for you if you want to make it back by nightfall. I’d push both directions or you’ll be camping by the river. Which I hear tell is a poor idea these days, with the radiation in the water.”
“You know about that?”
The older man nodded. “It’s common knowledge now. That’s why traffic’s slowing over the last few days. No point moving downriver if the whole shebang’s poisoned.”
“So, not long for Astoria.”
“Nope. But one place is as good as another in my business. I can set up a still wherever, and there will always be thirsty folks looking to numb the pain. Job security.”
The thought elicited the hint of a smile from Lucas. “Nice meeting you, Art.”
“Likewise. Watch your six. Whoever did the doc’s still out there and might not look kindly on you rooting around.”
“I can handle myself.”
The older man considered him for a moment. “I believe that. Good luck. Stop in when we’re open, and the first one’s on me.”
Chapter 29
“There you are,” Mary said, frowning at Rosemary as she entered the herb shop.
“I slept in. Sorry. I was over at the hospital until late.” Rosemary paused. “Did anything happen?”
“No, I was just…I don’t like it when you’re out till all hours.”
“Neither do I, Mom. But Sylvia needed help, and I’m it.”
“How’s Ruby doing?”
“Touch and go. But she seems to be responding to the pills, so they’re hopeful.”
Mary’s eyes widened. “What pills are those?”
“Oh. Um, Lucas – the cowboy type? He got his hands on some antibiotics.”
“He did? That’s wonderful. Do you know where he got them?”
Rosemary said evasively, “Sylvia said something about Ray.”
“Ray! It figures that boy would get mixed up in dealing drugs. Only a matter of time for his kind.”
“It’s not like he’s selling crack, Mom. He knows a lot of people.”
“Don’t defend him, young lady. He’s turned his back on the town and on God and gone to the dark side, living with those tent people. Remember what the book says about Sybarites and Philistines. No good will come from the road he’s on.”
“He’s having a lot more fun than I am,” Rosemary grumbled under her breath.
“What’s that?” Mary snapped.
“Nothing.”
“If you have a problem, speak up.”
“Mom, it’s just that anyone who thinks differently than you do…you and Dad view things pretty black and white, and most people aren’t like that. Ray, for instance. He’s basically good, but he’s doing what he can to survive in a bad situation, and in your view that makes him evil.”
Mary’s expression darkened. “This isn’t about Ray, is it?”
“That’s who we’re talking about, isn’t it?”
“You’re angry because we won’t let you waste yourself on that deputy. That’s as plain as the nose on your face.”
“I have every right to be angry.”
“As long as you live under our roof, you’ll live by our rules.”
“Maybe that’s why Ray decided not to stay in town.”
Mary’s knuckles whitened on the broom she was holding. “If Ray wants to live like an animal with the rest of the sinners, that’s his choice. Once you’re eighteen, you can decide for yourself whether you want to go to heaven or hell. For now, you’re our responsibility, and you’re not going to see that deputy. He’s no good, which you’d realize if you were older.”
“You don’t know anything about him. Besides, there’s no law anymore. I can do whatever I want. I don’t have to wait until I’m eighteen. With the radiation, I might not even live that long!”
“The council hasn’t said that it’s dangerous. They’ll let us know if it gets bad, and we’ll move. Simple as that. So spare me the drama. We’re all doing the best we can.”
Rosemary took a deep breath, and when she spoke, her tone was less agitated. “Mom, there aren’t many eligible males here. I found one I liked, and you shot him down without even listening.”
“I listened just fine. I asked around about him,
and I didn’t like what I heard from people whose opinion I trust. He’s a drinker and a womanizer. You don’t need someone like that breaking your heart.”
Rosemary’s forehead wrinkled. “You never told me you went behind my back…”
“I asked some people. It’s common knowledge. Seems that you’re the only one who doesn’t know.”
“I don’t believe you. You’re just saying that to hurt me.”
“Rosemary, think for a minute. Why would I do something like that? I want the best for you. So does your father.”
“You treat me like I’m still a little girl. I’m not. I’m all grown up.”
Mary wrung her hands. “You are, and we both respect you. But you’ve misjudged this man. For whatever reason, you’re blind to his faults.” She hesitated. “Look, I was young once too. He’s got an easy way about him, and he’s not hard on the eyes, I’ll give you that. But there’s more to a man than how he looks and whether he’s got charm or not. You want someone honest and true, not a…a snake oil salesman.”
“He’s a deputy! You make him sound like a rapist or something. What’s wrong with you?” Rosemary cried.
“That’s enough. You’ve spoken your piece. Now we need to get to work. I’ll have no more of these outbursts.”
“Because we might drive all our customers away? What planet are you living on, anyway? I don’t even know you anymore.”
Mary went back to sweeping the floor, ignoring her daughter, refusing to be sucked into the debate any further. Rosemary could be a hothead at times, like her father, but she’d eventually come around. Mary understood her frustration, but there was no way she was going to allow some drifter with a crooked grin ruin her daughter’s life. She might not have had much control over most things since the collapse, but she wouldn’t allow that to happen. It didn’t matter whether her daughter agreed with her devotion to the Bible and to living a decent, humble life – her job as a mother was to keep her child safe from what she could, and she’d fight like a cornered mama bear before she let Deputy Alex get his grubby paws on her. She could see what was on his mind every time she caught him looking at Rosemary, and there was no way that was going to come to pass.
Mary resolved to have another discussion with her husband when he arrived, away from the shop. Maybe he could put the fear of damnation into the young man, because she obviously wasn’t getting through to her daughter.
Rosemary appeared ready to bolt from the shop, but then trudged to the back room resignedly, her lips tight. Mary held her tongue, giving her time to cool off. It would do no good to alienate her further. She was at a difficult age, one where Mary remembered from her youth it was easy to make mistakes that could affect the rest of your life. Rosemary needed to be able to confide in her mother, or she’d lose her.
And Mary wasn’t about to lose the most precious treasure she had. Certainly not to that deputy.
She’d talk to Jeb as soon as he came in. That was what she would do.
Mary attacked a particularly stubborn patch of dust in the corner with the broom like she was impaling a wild boar, her mind a whirl of conflicting thoughts, some of them so dark they frightened her. She offered a silent prayer for strength and resolved to remain calm no matter what Rosemary threw at her, and counted the minutes until Jeb arrived.
Chapter 30
Tango plodded along the river road. The big horse’s pace was faster than the prior trip, since Lucas could allow him to have his head for long stretches. The road was empty except for a few miserable-looking stragglers with long, tangled hair and filthy faces who were making their way on foot, everything they owned in bundles on their backs. Lucas spotted them well in advance and cut over to a trail that skirted the road, unwilling to engage, even if the travelers looked harmless.
He stopped to take a break after an hour of riding, giving Tango a chance to rest. Normally for a trip like he was making in a single day he would have limited the stallion’s gait to a walk, but he’d allowed him to trot much of the way, which, while conserving time, endangered the animal if sustained – something Lucas was unwilling to risk.
Tango munched on grass while Lucas lazed beneath a tree, enjoying the warmth as the sun burned off the last of the cloud cover, thinking about his discussion with Art and its singular lack of any helpful information. It could have been that the man honestly had no suspicion about who’d poisoned the doctor, but Lucas was skeptical – in an encampment the size of the tent city, everyone knew the players, and Lucas suspected the General knew more than he was letting on.
The more he thought about it, the less convinced he was that Hayden had done much but the bare minimum to investigate. It was no wonder he’d made no progress if that was the case. Whether because he was unskilled, because he simply didn’t care, or was somehow involved, Lucas didn’t know, and in the end it didn’t matter – too much time had gone by, and any trail had gone cold.
The drugs were a different matter, and Lucas would continue to pursue Lee until he could grill him. That was his best and only lead so far, and he wasn’t about to let it go to waste.
The snap of a twig from off to his right drew his attention, and then he was rolling and bringing his M4 to bear as automatic rifle fire rattled from the tree line. Dirt fountained all around, rounds snapping past him as he searched for a target while keeping his head down. Movement fifty yards away drew his eye, and he loosed several three-round bursts before rolling behind a tree.
More gunfire barked from the trail, and he answered with shots of his own, firing largely blind at where he thought the gunman was positioned. Maybe he got lucky, because there was a lull in the shooting.
Lucas didn’t wait for his assailant to draw a bead on him. He twisted and leapt to his feet, and then was running full bore through the brush as the chatter of the gunman’s rifle ended any doubts he might have had about whether he was in the clear. Chunks of bark sprayed from a tree on his right, and he zigzagged deeper into the woods until the shooting stopped again.
He continued away from the river, and when he judged that he’d made it a few hundred yards, he circled back around, slowing so as to be as quiet as possible. Now that the advantage of surprise had been squandered, his attackers would find an able adversary in him, who well knew that the best defense against an ambush was to bring the pain to those who’d tried to kill. If he could get behind them or flank them, they’d be his – an attack like this could only end with Lucas or his assailants dead, and Lucas wasn’t planning on shedding his mortal coil that morning.
He crept along a game trail, keeping his weight on the sides of his feet, avoiding stepping on branches, aware that the slightest sound might give his location away and invite a hail of deadly fire. He was in no hurry now that the shooting had stopped – one of the rookie mistakes many made in their first gun battles was to be impatient, anxious to press their advantage and end the fight quickly. As long as Tango was unharmed, which he had been when Lucas had fled, he would be as methodical as a machine in working his way around until he spotted the shooter and flipped his switch.
Lucas saw Tango off to his right and slowed further. His quarry would be unlikely to be standing still, but then again, taking a potshot at Lucas when any competent sniper with decent gear could have blown his head off was an amateur move, so it was possible that he might be lurking behind a tree, unaware the hunter had become the hunted.
Time seemed to compress as Lucas inched toward where the shooter had been. He’d counted his rounds and still had half a magazine left, but felt with his free hand for another magazine in his vest, the chill of the metal reassuring as his eyes roamed over the lush green of the forest.
A scrape from ahead stopped him cold – steel on stone. His eyes narrowed and he peered through the rifle scope now that he had a bearing, scanning the area until he had a sweating man with long straw-colored hair in his crosshairs, the wooden stock of an old AK-47 as distinctive as its curved magazine. He thumbed the fire selector to single shot and ex
haled slowly as he squeezed the trigger. The rifle bucked against his shoulder, and a spattering of blood from the man’s neck geysered through the air as he fell back, dropping his weapon.
Lucas remained motionless, eye glued to the scope, and when nobody else appeared after a minute of quiet, he resumed his approach, the M4 back on three-round burst mode. He was nearly at where he’d tagged the shooter when he heard a horse galloping further back on the trail from Astoria. He darted to the track just in time to see a rider crouched low on a horse, tearing back toward town at flank speed. Lucas shouldered his rifle and fired four volleys at the departing gunman but with little hope of hitting him – a moving target at declining range would have been a dream on his best day, and firing from a standing position without anything to steady his aim was less than ideal.
He ejected the spent magazine and slapped another into place, and when nothing else disturbed the quiet, continued to where the gunman lay dying. Half his lower jaw was gone, and his shirt was slick with bright red blood. Lucas stared down at the man, his breath a rasping gurgle, his face white from shock, pupils pinpoints in a hazel sea. He noted the man’s rifle a few feet away and then leaned over and removed a revolver from his belt, where it was stuffed into the waistband – yet another indication that the man had been an amateur, as was his lack of body armor.
Lucas didn’t wait for the shooter to expire – that he would within minutes was a matter of certainty. He couldn’t interrogate him without a lower face, so he carted off the man’s weapons, leaving him to his fate. Lucas had seen too many die to care about one bushwhacker, although the man’s clothes had been somewhat better than those on the unfortunates he’d seen on the road. He made a slow circle around the dying man, looking for his horse, but found nothing – the animal had probably run off or been shooed away by his departing companion.
He didn’t think the rider would be back, but he didn’t want to bank on it, so he jogged to where Tango stood, slid the dead man’s rifle and pistol into his saddlebags, and leapt onto the horse’s back. He leaned forward and whispered to the stallion, eyes on the trail, “Think you can run for fifteen or twenty minutes? Want a chance to stretch your legs?”
The Day After Never - Insurrection (Book 5) Page 15