A Powerless World | Book 3 | Defend The Homestead

by Hunt, Jack

  Almost on cue, the sound of heavy footfalls was followed by the appearance of the sheriff, red-faced, sweating, and out of breath. He looked as if he’d just been on a five-mile jog. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, gents,” Dan said, hurrying into the office, removing his jacket, and hanging it on the back of the door. “I’ve been rushed off my feet. So much to do and not enough people to do it.” He was about to make himself a coffee when Evans spoke up.

  “You think we can skip that? I’ve been waiting an hour for you.”

  “I apologize, the logistics of bringing in people to the town is a daunting task.”

  He took a seat and clasped his hands together.

  “Why did you want to see us?”

  “I think you know.” He paused, getting serious. “Look, captain, I appreciate all the work you and your men have done for the town by bringing in supplies, but when it comes to the Rikers and the Stricklands, you should leave that to me, otherwise we could have a far bigger problem than a few scalpings.”

  Benjamin took out a nail clipper and began clipping. A moment later he looked up. “Oh, you were saying?” The sheriff looked bewildered. It wasn’t that he wasn’t paying attention, he just figured he’d give him a touch of his own medicine. “Sorry, I was busy.”

  “Your point is made, captain.”

  “Look, I don’t see any problem. What I do see is someone tiptoeing around, trying to please everyone. That kind of behavior never gets you anywhere, does it, lieutenant?”

  Elijah replied, “No it doesn’t, captain.”

  “You know, sheriff, in my time of serving this county, I’ve met many a man who thinks he is sitting at the top rung of the ladder. Untouchable. Unquestionable. Infallible. But the one commonality they all have is that they bleed the same. And what goes up can be brought down. No one is invincible. Every man’s time ends.”

  “You don’t understand. Around here, the Rikers and the Stricklands… are… how should I say… in a league of their own. Dangerous. They don’t bow the knee to anyone and from what I’ve seen, if you push, they will only push back harder. It’s in your best interest when I say let me handle them. I would hate to see things get ugly.”

  “Ugly?” He chuckled. “Have you ever served, sheriff?”

  “Only in this capacity.”

  “Then you truly don’t know what ugly is. I’ve stared into the eyes of death. I’ve seen the wickedness of man. The unrestrained, the ruthless brutality only witnessed in the thick of war.” He snorted. “So a few hicks having a hissy fit over what they can or can’t do isn’t ugly. That’s fucking stupidity. Pathetic even. That’s what that is.”

  “This isn’t the Middle East, captain. You can’t just waltz in here and threaten people. You try to do that, and you will see how dangerous pathetic is.”

  Benjamin leaned forward and tapped the table with his fingers, locking eyes with Dan. “That sounds like a threat to me. Is it?”

  “No, captain. I’m helping you to understand how things work around here.”

  “Worked, you mean? Let’s not forget we showed up when what you say was working was actually failing. So sheriff, let me help you understand something. Today is not yesterday. And tomorrow is not today. What has been is no more and the sooner you get on board with that, the sooner you will find yourself winning instead of losing. Now you allowed me to come in and perform a task. So far what I have done has worked. Now I can see clearly where our focus needs to be. You bring down these two families, the rest will fall in line.” He pointed across the room. “I’ll have that coffee now if you don’t mind.”

  Dan stared at him. “I’m beginning to think that you and I aren’t on the same page.”

  Benjamin’s lip curled. “That’s because we’re not reading from the same book. But trust me, sheriff, stick with me and you’ll like the ending to this one.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The Wiyot Tribe’s ancestral territory encompassed Little River to the north, Bear River to the south, and Chalk Mountain and Berry Summit to the east. They were native to the area. At one time their villages were spread throughout because their numbers were greater, but now there were far fewer and those that existed were to be found on the reservation of Table Bluff in Loleta, north of Garberville and south of Eureka.

  It had been a long time since Colby had been to the reservation. He felt Alicia grip his waist as the horse quickened its pace. Kane ran alongside as the mare galloped up Highway 101.

  “Your mother is quite the woman,” Alicia said.

  “That’s putting it mildly.”

  “Back in L.A., you said you helped me because it was the right thing to do. It wasn’t just that, was it? Daisy was right. I remind you of Skye. And from the looks I’ve gotten since arriving here, it appears that resemblance is stronger than I thought. I would have liked to have seen her.”

  He contemplated what she said, and felt Alicia rest her head on his back between the shoulder blades. Colby took a hand off the reins and reached into his pocket. He pulled out his wallet and lifted it over his shoulder. “Here. There’s a photo of Skye in the back.”

  She took it and a moment later, Alicia reached around and showed him the image. He hadn’t looked at it in many years. It was crinkled and faded. He’d folded it so he wouldn’t see it every time he opened the wallet. “In the weeks after her death, I contemplated throwing it away but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

  “It’s astonishing. I mean, the sheriff was right. She could have been my doppelganger if my hair was naturally dark.” There was a pause. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “What was I supposed to say? Oh, hey, you look like my dead girlfriend but sorry, I gotta take in you, regardless.”

  “You have a point.” She tucked it back into the wallet and handed it back. “You haven’t told me how she died. What happened?”

  He shook his head, not wanting to go back there. It hurt too much. It had taken years for the pain to recede. Just being back in the county and with Alicia had unearthed old feelings, ones he didn’t want to discuss, ones he’d thought he’d forgotten, ones he’d hoped he wouldn’t feel again.

  “The events of that night change based on who you ask. To this day I still don’t think I ever heard the truth. You have to understand the dynamics of the way things were back then. Our family had been at odds with the Stricklands since they tried to muscle their way into the black market and take food out of our families’ mouths. There was no way Skye and I could have lived a peaceful life here. So I suggested we leave for L.A.”

  “So that’s why you headed there.”

  He nodded. “It wasn’t the same without her but I did my best to make it home.” Colby took a deep breath as they were getting closer to the turnoff for Loleta. As the horse wound its way along the road, the landscape of redwoods became denser. A bend in the road gave them a clear view of the bay in the distance. A bright sun spread its warmth over a sign for cheap gas that loomed up ahead. Someone had gotten up there and spray painted over it with the words NO LONGER FOR SALE.

  “When Skye didn’t show that night, I headed into town. That’s when I saw a commotion. Sirens blaring. Cops. There were already EMTs on the scene. As I got closer, I saw that it was her. She’d been shot three times.” He exhaled.

  “Did they catch who did it?”

  “No.”

  “Did you find out who it was?”

  “Yes.” A pause followed then he said, “My brother. Jessie.”

  “What?”

  “I was told that she was planning to turn me in to the cops for a crime I hadn’t committed — the death of her sister’s boyfriend. Like I said, back then things were different, Alicia. I know it sounds extreme and doesn’t make much sense but if you grew up around here, you would understand.”

  “Was she?”

  “Planning to turn me in?” He snorted. “No. Of course not. My family thought she had thrown me under the bus and so they did what anyone might and lashed out.”
>
  There was a long pause as she contemplated it.

  “Shit. That’s harsh.”

  “Welcome to my family.”

  “Remind me not to cross them.”

  He might have laughed at one time but not now. It was a sad but true reality. Now it just left a heaviness in his chest. They continued riding through the heart of Humboldt, his mind circling to the past as he saw landmarks that brought back memories.

  “So who do you know in this tribe?”

  “I have a friend there. His name is Dakota Moon. We go way back. He attended the same school as me. He was a new arrival and some didn’t take too kindly to him. One day I found him being beaten on by two guys, so I figured I would even the odds.”

  “You helped him?”

  He nodded. “I mean, he’d always say that he could have whopped their asses without my help, and he might have, but…”

  “You’re not one for standing by and watching something like that happen.”

  “Something like that. It probably helped that I was interested in his sister.”

  She nudged him in the ribs. “Typical.” She laughed. “So what’s the deal with the Wiyot Tribe?”

  “It’s a long story but their history is painted with tragedy. I would hate to see history repeat itself.”

  As they rode, he thought back to the past, back to what he’d learned in school but more specifically from Dakota. He felt that their history was best told by Dakota, someone who knew it better than him. “What do you mean?”

  Colby knew it would be hard telling Dakota about the accusations without dredging up the past. To avoid Alicia offending them, he figured he’d give her a brief overview. “To cut a long story short — the Wiyot Tribe was among several tribes in this area back in the late 1840s. Sometime in the early 1850s, the gold rush brought settlers here. They soon realized that the redwoods offered even more lucrative ways of making money so the settlers forced out the natives. Ultimately they wanted to remove them completely from the land. This all culminated in a massacre in 1860 on Tuluwat, or the place otherwise known as Indian Island out in Humboldt Bay. Every year the Wiyot people gather there for the World Renewal Ceremony. It usually lasts around ten days. Anyway, in the evening, men would go off to get more supplies, leaving behind the elderly, the women, and the children. Well, local settlers accused the tribes of stealing stock. They wanted the army to punish them. They wouldn’t. So, instead, they decided to do it themselves. They rowed over and while the men were away they killed upwards of 250 of them that night with hatchets and knives.”

  “Children?”

  “Yeah. Sick, isn’t it? But that’s what our ancestors did to expand. It happened a lot back then. It’s crazy to see what people will do to control others. It took them over 100 years to reclaim that land. Back in the 1970s, they tried to get the land back but it took until the year 2000 before they were able to get $100,000 to purchase back 1.5 acres from the city. Four years after that the city gave them 40 more acres and then it took another five years until they released back the last 202 acres and apologized. And to top it off, for the past 100 years that land has been used as a dry dock. Boats were treated there with chemicals and pesticides, and now they have the job of cleaning it all up. Can you imagine that? Having everything stolen from you and having to purchase back most of it, only to find it wrecked. Now you can see why it’s a very touchy subject.”

  They rode in silence for the rest of the way. Colby was sure that Alicia was chewing it over. He thought back to his conversations with Dakota. He’d had no idea. It wasn’t like they taught this in schools. It was hidden away, one of history’s dirty secrets that only now was being brought to the forefront.

  It didn’t take them much longer to arrive at the Table Bluff Reservation. It was a tight-knit community of homes that were close together. At the center was the headquarters located off Wiyot Drive.

  Before they even made it that far in, they were stopped at the entrance just off Table Bluff Road. Numerous trucks had been rolled into position to block off access to both the road and farmland.

  At one time he’d known most of the families there. They had embraced Colby as a friend, someone they could trust. Now they were new faces. The young had grown and ten years had turned them into strangers.

  Rifles were aimed his way. “This land is off-limits.”

  “I’m here to see Dakota Moon. Tell him Colby Riker is here to speak with him.”

  They stared. One whispered something in the ear of another. That one walked away speaking into a handheld walkie-talkie.

  While they waited, his eyes scanned the reservation.

  Fond memories came to mind. Endless summers. Fishing. Learning about the tribe, attending ceremonies. He’d spent many a night at the Moon residence. They were a second family to him. At no point did they judge him. They knew of the Rikers’ reputation but as they rarely ventured into Eureka, they didn’t have a problem with them. A moment later, the same guy returned. “Let them through.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Unbridled rage blocked out sound judgment. Seth stewed in his misery by downing a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. He couldn’t believe his cousin would get tangled up with the Rikers. And Jessie of all people! He was sure that bastard knew more about Luke’s death than he let on. Jessie’s hatred for Luke had landed him a stiff sentence inside the pen. He’d been on his way to deal with him that night. That’s why it seemed a little too convenient that four days out of the can, Luke had gone missing.

  No, he didn’t buy the story of Alby being the only one involved.

  That fat bastard couldn’t have killed all three. He could barely lift a sandwich to his mouth. Seth so badly wanted to lash out, make Jessie suffer, and pay not just for the death of his brothers but for having gotten involved with their family. He wasn’t sure who to hate more, Jessie or Nina.

  Instead of going straight back to the farm and telling his father, he, Derek, and Eddie had unleashed their anger on a family in the south of Eureka.

  With locals dropping like flies, he figured another three wouldn’t be missed. He just needed a place to blow off some steam, time to think, to chew over what could be done. Something had to be done. The agreement his father had entered into with Martha Riker was a joke. Accepting it was a sign of weakness. An insult to the memory of his brothers. How could he agree? They’d killed four of their family and only one of theirs was dead. Sure, he’d slapped around Miriam and humiliated her but they deserved more, more pain than they could handle, and he planned to figure out a way to dish it out.

  After drinking to lower their inhibitions, Derek and Eddie went through the house, wrecking the place. Himself? He sat in an armchair, looking out the rear window at the yard, taking a swig every so often while furniture, home décor, and walls were destroyed around him. “Oh, why haven’t we done this sooner?” Eddie asked.

  “You know, they have places where you can pay to do this kind of shit… I mean, they used to,” Derek said. “Can you believe that? Apparently, it’s a way to blow off steam. Unleash the inner beast, so to speak.” He chuckled. “Thirty minutes in a room with a hammer, going berserk like a mental patient. I’d rather do that than spend an hour listening to some quack mirror what I say.” He cackled, mimicking a therapist. “And how does that make you feel? I’ll tell you how it makes me feel.” Derek drove his foot through a flat-screen TV. He pocketed his hammer and picked up the TV and threw it through the window, sending glass cascading down.

  Eddie roared with laughter. “Derek, you have some serious issues. But I like it!”

  They both laughed.

  Seth might have told him to keep the noise down because of cops but he no longer cared. Besides, the situation had changed. There were far fewer cops patrolling the city than there were two weeks ago. That’s why they picked a home in the south end. Even if someone heard them and reported it, it would take forever to get there and no doubt they would only send one idiot. They could handle that easily, just like th
ey had with that cop that showed up at Luke’s home on the day of his funeral. What a mistake that was. No backup. No communication. He’d seen one of them toss a beer bottle at Miriam. The damn thing didn’t even touch her bike, but oh no, Mr. Policeman thought he was going to give them a good talking-to. After beating the shit out of him, Seth had gutted him like a pig before ditching his body on the outskirts of town.

  No one had said a damn thing. It was beautiful.

  No more fear of prison. No more being told what to do or putting up with assholes in uniforms. Before, the only time that could happen was if the cops dared venture up into the hills. The cops had learned fast not to send a deputy alone after they found one of theirs hanging from a lamp post a day later. Of course, trying to prove who had done it was a useless endeavor, it was just easier for them to avoid heading over Alderpoint Bridge.

  Seth took out a pack of smokes from his top pocket and wedged one between his lips. He lit the end and mulled over the way ahead. There had to be a way to get back at Jessie without upsetting his father, without drawing attention to themselves.

  “Father should have never agreed to it. Fuck Martha. He should have put a bullet in her skull. So what, we’re meant to not touch the Rikers just because that bitch gave up Alby? She was playing games from the moment she showed up. And to think he agreed!”

  “There was a little more to it than that, Seth,” Eddie added. “Give him some credit.”

  “Whatever. The point is if we go telling father about Nina, I have a feeling he will just turn the other cheek because it’s his brother’s kid. But not me. He might have an agreement with Martha but I don’t.”

  Derek brought a baseball bat down on a glass table in the middle of the living room and it exploded into a thousand shards. “Take that, you piece of shit. That is how you do it.” He breathed in deeply. “I have to say, boys, this apocalypse isn’t turning out to be too bad after all.”

  Seth looked over at the dead homeowner, his wife, and son.