Flashpoint (Book 5): Convergence

by Ellis, Tara

  “Hicks,” the captain interrupted, his eyes narrowing as he stared steadily at James. “I’m just called Hicks when I’m volunteering out here with the kids.”

  Some more of the pieces fell into place for James then, but the only outward sign of his revelation was that he stood a little straighter and his eyes widened for a fleeting moment. Though he had always suspected the Trek Thru Trouble was a front for something, he couldn’t imagine what it was. That it was somehow connected to his dad being on the list hadn’t been a consideration until then, and James silently chastised himself for not being more perceptive. However, they had all still somehow managed to be there at that moment, and he knew it was more than just a coincidence.

  “You know why I’m here,” James said simply, and waited for the rest of their quest to be fulfilled.

  Hicks smiled then and ran a hand over his head, clearly relieved. “You can’t possibly know how happy I am to see you guys,” he offered before taking several steps closer to James. Once in front of him, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked up with an expression of determination. “I know where your father is, James. If you’d like, I can take you there. It’s a place called Mercy.”

  Chapter 27

  TOM

  South of Mercy, Montana

  The persistent feeling that he was missing something wouldn’t allow Tom to relax. Even though it was past dusk and the shadows were moving in, he continued to pace along the edge of the road with a nervous energy he wasn’t accustomed to.

  “Here.”

  Tom turned to find Bishop holding out a steaming cup of coffee, his expression hard to read. The two of them hadn’t spoken much since the night before, leaving things at a sort of uneasy truce until they could get beyond the current situation. Tom didn’t regret asking Danny to look through his things, but he hoped he was wrong. If for no other reason than his mother’s sake, although the man was undeniably beneficial to have around.

  He accepted the drink and then scrutinized the fire burning in their camp. “It could be bigger,” he commented. Walking past Bishop, he bent to pick up a couple of sticks and then tossed them on the fire.

  They’d arrived that afternoon to where the trail they suspected the desperados used intersected with the freeway. The real Pony Express riders, Barry and Jed, broke off from the group a mile in advance, while the rest of them hung back and dispersed evenly into the woods. There were eleven of them total, including two of the sheriff’s deputies, and three men and one woman volunteer. They were all well-armed, and with the element of surprise, shouldn’t have an issue overpowering the other, more ragged gang.

  When they failed to encounter anyone on the road, Tom sent one of the deputies ahead to scout for several miles. He returned an hour later without coming across any signs of their assailants lying in wait.

  Since it was obvious there wasn’t an ambush already set up for them, they moved on to plan B. Bishop and Tom made an obvious camp a short distance past the trail with a large fire to advertise their location. If no one took the bait by late morning, they’d go ahead and make a direct assault on the outlaws’ camp. While he’d rather draw them out, Tom had no problem taking the fight to them. Except…his intuition was causing him to replay the various scenarios in his head, looking for the factor that his subconscious was screaming at him to notice.

  “We’re supposed to look like unsuspecting Pony Express riders, not idiots dancing around a bonfire,” Bishop muttered. He stomped past Tom and sat down on a rotting log. “What’s the matter with you? Sit down.”

  Tom clenched his jaw and forced himself to stop moving. He was well aware the rest of their men were listening, concealed nearby in the woods. Squatting a couple of feet away from Bishop, he took a long gulp of coffee before finally looking at him, and spoke in a low voice. “Something doesn’t feel right.”

  Tom expected the older man to laugh or ridicule him in some way. Instead, Bishop stood slowly and took a long look around. Without commenting, he unclipped the radio from his belt. “Waters, this is Bishop. Status?”

  It was the sheriff’s idea to bring two radios so they could communicate with each other over short distances. So far, it was working well. He was staked out with one of his deputies just north of the trail.

  “We’re status—stand by.”

  Tom and Bishop looked at each other, the tension building.

  “We’ve got a rider!” Sheriff Waters whispered. “One rider approaching the road from the trail.”

  “Let him go,” Bishop barked into the radio as he moved toward the fire. He waved his other arm at the nearby trees to signal the men to start moving. “Help me put this out,” he said calmly to Tom.

  Tom was again left with an impression of a man who had done more than served briefly in the military, but he didn’t have time to mull over those implications. Instead, he joined Bishop in kicking the dirt they’d stockpiled on the fire, successfully smothering it.

  Jed and Barry ran across the highway with Deputy Moore, so that both sides of the road would be covered. Tom and Bishop stood in the middle, rifles in hand, and Tom could already hear the horse approaching at a decent pace.

  “Just the one,” Sheriff Waters’ voice squawked from the radio at Bishop’s waist.

  Tom frowned. Only one rider? Odds were that he was one of the desperados, since he came from the trail, but it was entirely possible it was someone else.

  As horse and rider became visible in the gathering darkness, Tom raised his rifle. “Law enforcement! Stop and identify yourself!”

  The clopping of the horse’s hooves stuttered and then stopped as the rider pulled up hard, nearly unseating himself. Tom could tell right away that he was a young and inexperienced rider.

  “Get off the horse,” Bishop ordered, not allowing any room for introductions or pleasantries.

  The man shifted in his saddle and his horse took a few voluntary steps forward, making his face more visible. Tom was surprised to discover he wasn’t much older than Ethan, though his hardened expression was full of hate and loathing. “Why in the hell would you think I’m going to listen to you?” He held both of his hands low at his sides, so that they weren’t visible.

  “Jason?”

  Tom glanced sideways at Bishop, surprised by the tone of his voice and the fact that he seemed to know the kid’s name. Confused, he wavered slightly in his concentration and it was the opening Jason was looking for.

  Kicking his horse, the teen leaned forward at the same time and raised his right hand up to level a gun in their direction. The mare charged, her eyes wild, as Jason shot randomly at them.

  Tom leaped out of the way, unable to clearly aim past the horse. Rolling once as two more rounds exploded nearby, he came up on a knee and brought the rifle around. With the boy in his sights, Tom hesitated. Taking revenge by shooting a teenager in the back while he fled wasn’t something he could ever resort to. Lowering the weapon, he looked over to confirm Bishop was okay and was surprised to see him take off running down the road.

  “Jason!” Bishop yelled, sprinting faster.

  Tom quickly followed and noticed how the boy was leaning sideways in the saddle. Jason only made it twenty more feet before falling to the ground, where he lay unmoving. The horse continued to trot away but eventually stopped, her sides heaving as she stomped at the blacktop.

  Sheriff Waters and his deputy came galloping down the road, and he took the scene in before reholstering his pistol. “No other riders so far!” Waters called out.

  Bishop had already rolled the boy over by the time Tom caught up and it was obvious he had suffered a fatal wound. A section of his neck was torn open, and blood pooled rapidly under him as he bled out.

  “You know him?” Tom asked, trying to piece it all together.

  Bishop nodded, his face stoic. “Yes. He was one of the boys from my original hiking group. His name is Jason.”

  Tom couldn’t fathom how a teenager who had started out on a week-long survival excursion cou
ld have ended up with a group of killers targeting Mercy. “Wait,” Tom said, remembering one of his mom’s stories. “Is this the same guy you caught up at the lake? The one who tried to steal the horses?”

  “He’s also the one who attempted to rob me,” Jed confirmed as he joined them. “I’m sorry if I killed him, Bishop. He was shooting at you. I didn’t think I had much choice.”

  Bishop held a bloody hand up to stop Jed from saying anything else. “Yeah, Tom. It’s him.” Staring intently at Jason for a moment, Bishop let go of his shoulders and then stood. “He’s gone.” He looked back to where the sheriff sat on his horse. “He’s obviously not a one-man posse. He’s doing something else out here.”

  “Bishop, I—”

  “You have nothing to apologize for,” Bishop said, interrupting Jed. “He chose this.” He pointed at the dead teen and the horse that was slowly walking back to them. “Life is all about the choices we make. I tried to get that simple message through to him in the few days we were together, but he wasn’t willing to listen.”

  Tom was trying not to compare Jason to his own son, and some of the choices they’d all been faced with since the world fell apart. He was struck by the feeling that this connection with the boy and Bishop and the ranch all led to something more.

  The mare approached him, and Tom wondered if it had been stolen from their other riders. Taking a rein, he gave her a cursory glance to make sure she wasn’t shot, before noticing the saddle bags. The markings on the bag confirmed it belonged to their Pony Express, but Tom was more concerned with what might be inside them. Bishop was right; the kid was out there for a reason. Pulling the leather satchel off the horse, he dumped its contents on the ground.

  Aside from a knife, water, and some food, the only other item of interest was a curious-looking envelope. It was a large, manila envelope with block writing in the top left corner:

  COMMAND CENTER TWO

  DUKE RANCH

  Tom’s breath quickened as he opened it and pulled out a torn, half-sheet of paper. The lettering on it was much rougher than that on the envelope. He struggled to see it in the fading light, but the simple correspondence was painfully clear as he read it out loud for everyone to hear.

  “Orders received. We accept the terms. Cattle will be delivered as instructed on Miner’s Trail. Leaving now.” Tom’s voice cracked as the meaning of the letter sank in.

  “There’s something on the other side,” Bishop pointed out.

  Turning the sheet over, Tom realized that the outlaws must have simply torn off the lower half of the original correspondence to answer it. The name neatly printed just below the crease shouldn’t have been a surprise. “Dillinger,” he growled, crumpling the paper up in his hand.

  Of course. That was the connection he’d missed and should have realized the night before when Bishop told him about the Duke Ranch. They’d found the maps he and Jesper Duke had spent an evening poring over and marking routes on. Dillinger had already known about Mercy and Jason knew exactly where the farm and cattle were.

  “He was just a messenger,” Bishop said, mirroring Tom’s thoughts.

  What had he done?

  Tom reeled away from the other men and began to run for Lilly.

  Life was all about choices.

  Tom leapt onto Lilly’s back and they set off up the darkening road at a gallop. Even if she ran all night, they might not get there in time.

  Bishop was right. Tom had made the choice to seek revenge under the guise of protecting the town, and in doing so had left them vulnerable. While they’d been riding away from the people they loved, the desperados were already heading toward them.

  The fight for Mercy was about to begin, and it would start with an attack on Miller Ranch.

  FLASHPOINT Book 6

  Available Here

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