“Some whiskey would be nice.”
“Ice?”
“You have ice?”
Savage liked showing off, and rubbing others’ faces in the fact he could get what few others had.
He smiled and said, “Of course I do, Mr. Sloan. Whiskey without ice is so uncivilized. Ice is one of the finer things in life. We shouldn’t pass up the opportunity to enjoy it.”
“One of the finer things in life, maybe, for those lucky enough to have it. How is it you can get ice?”
“I have a mini fridge that somehow survived the blackout. I don’t know why. Maybe because it was brand new and still in the box. It was never plugged into the wall, and that’s the only logical reason I can think of why it might have survived.
“But survive it did. I crank my generator up each evening, fill up my ice cube trays, and by morning when I turn the generator off the ice is ready.
“As long as I open the door to the fridge sparingly, the cubes stay pretty much frozen throughout the day.”
“I’m just curious, Mr. Savage. How much did you pay Crazy Eddie for the generator?”
“Two ounces of gold. But it was worth every penny, I assure you.”
“Especially since it was someone else’s gold?”
“Pardon me?”
Sloan laughed.
“The rumor I heard was that you opened up your bank’s vault and took the gold from one of your customer’s safe deposit boxes.”
“Why, Mr. Sloan, are you implying that I’m a thief?”
“Nope. Not at all. Just passing on a rumor that I heard. That’s all.”
“No truth to the rumor at all. Besides, those boxes require two keys. I only have one. The customer has the other.”
“I heard another rumor that you secretly have spare keys to all the boxes. And that you’ve been known to rifle through them occasionally to see what’s in them.”
“Not true at all.”
“Just a rumor I heard, nothing more. Of course, if you’d made arrangements with Jesse Luna before he shot Crazy Eddie, he might have been able to bring you the generator for nothing.”
“Jesse Luna never did anything for nothing. And I didn’t know he was going to shoot Eddie. He did that on his own.”
“I was under the impression he was acting on your instructions.”
“Another rumor you heard?”
“Perhaps.”
“Just as false as the others.”
“Yet, you still wound up with most of Eddie’s belongings. I’ve heard you have the only working television in Blanco.”
“Is there a point to all this, Mr. Sloan?”
“No, not really. Just making conversation.”
Savage decided to change the subject.
“What are your plans, Mr. Sloan? Have you decided to stay here awhile? Make Blanco your home?”
“No. I came to tell you I’m moving on. Tomorrow morning at first light.”
“Really? And just why would you want to leave our sleepy little town and go back out into that big dangerous world out there?”
“I hear tell there’s work in Brady, a few days’ ride from here.”
“I know where Brady is. I once had relatives there, before I disowned the cretins. What kind of work?”
“The kind you don’t talk about.”
“Oh. So why tell me?”
“I wanted to remind you that you agreed to pay for my boarding when I came here to work for you. I don’t want to leave Mrs. Montgomery high and dry.”
“Oh? Why not?”
“I don’t want to wear out my welcome should I ever come back. And besides, she’s an attractive woman. I might stop in to see her next time I’m in the area. Perhaps have my way with her.”
“She’s a refined woman, Mr. Sloan. I doubt she’d have anything to do with you.”
Sloan smiled.
“Who said I’d give her a choice?”
-11-
There was another reason Sloan had decided to move on. He was well aware Red had struck out in search of Jesse Luna. And like Savage, he too put his money on Red to win the battle that would certainly ensue.
Of course, it might take her awhile to find him. And after she killed him or turned him over to authorities, it would take her awhile to return to Blanco.
But return she would. Sloan was certain of that.
He didn’t want to be there when she got back.
Sloan was unaware that Savage had hired two men to watch out for her and ambush her.
Savage could have told him, but chose not to.
For the truth was, Savage and Sloan didn’t like each other much.
Savage knew that Sloan’s primary motivation for leaving town was his fear of Red. He could have put the man at ease by assuring him he’d taken care of their mutual problem.
But his business arrangement with Sloan had come to an effective end.
He’d acted as a conduit for the murders of Red’s husband and young son. He’d helped obtain the dynamite, and had given Savage an alibi when Jesse Luna did the dirty deed.
He’d served his purpose. And try as he might, Savage just couldn’t think of anything else Sloan could do for him.
On the other hand, though, Sloan’s leaving would serve a big benefit for Savage.
The Red problem would soon be gone. She’d be shot off her horse in an ambush, probably from a great distance.
She’d no longer be able to do him harm, legal or otherwise.
But there was always a possibility someone else might step forward to accuse him of being involved.
Either in her murder, or of her family’s.
There would be no conclusive proof, of course. No eyewitnesses or forensic evidence. No fingerprints or videotape or sworn affidavits.
Only suspicions and rumors and nothing else.
Sloan’s leaving town could enable Savage to deflect further blame. He could claim that Sloan confessed to the murders, on his way out of town. But that Savage had nothing concrete to hold him on.
“I couldn’t record the confession,” he’d claim. “And he laughed and said he’d deny the confession if I ever told anyone. It would be my word against his, with no other corroborating evidence. It would never even get to trial.”
Such a claim, in Savage’s mind, would put an end to all the speculation. He’d be off the hook once and for all.
With Red dead and Sloan on the run, he could finally focus on other things.
Like his long-term goal of owning every property worth having in Blanco County.
Red and Butch would have spoiled such plans. They’d have stood in his way. That was why they had to go.
With them gone, and the rest of the townsfolk knowing what might befall them by resisting Savage’s efforts, the rest would be a piece of cake. For although none of them could prove he was involved, the townsfolk would still have their suspicions. And they’d certainly remember what happened the last time someone fought Savage’s efforts to obtain real property in and around Blanco.
Truth be known, Savage had been trying to figure out what to do with Sloan anyway. Once Luna was gone and Gomez and Duncan took out Red, Sloan was the only person alive who could pin him to the murders of Russell, Rusty and Butch. Or so he thought.
He’d thought about hiring Gomez and Duncan to kill Sloan as well.
But hiring a hit man to kill a witness is always a losing game. For the hit man thereby becomes a new potential witness and one is faced with the endless possibility of creating one new target for every one he gets rid of.
No, Sloan merely leaving town was the very best option for everyone concerned.
“How will you get there? To Brady, I mean?”
“I’ll walk. It’s how I got to Blanco.”
“That’s a long walk.”
“I’m in no hurry. Besides, I’ve heard rumors that life on the road is a lot better than being cooped up in a small town.”
“How so? And who says?”
“I’ve talked to s
everal highway nomads who’ve stopped into town for one reason or another. They say that life on the road is fairly peaceful. That there aren’t many robbers to worry about because there’s plenty for everybody.”
“Plenty of what?”
“Food. And water. In the abandoned trucks. When you get away from the cities and towns, all the abandoned big rigs are out there, free for the taking. You just travel at your own leisure, sleeping in the cabs of the trucks and eating food from the trailers. No having to hunt or fish for your food, no going hungry if you happen to miss your only shot of the day.”
Sloan suddenly remembered another rumor he’d heard.
“Hey, I talked to a man named Martinez the other day. He said you contracted with him to fetch stuff from those abandoned trucks for you. Any truth to that?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact there is. They live out south of town, and happen to have an old covered wagon. Without the cover. They said the cover rotted away years ago, but the wagon still works just fine.”
“Where’d they get it?”
“Hell, I don’t know and I don’t care. My only question was whether or not they had a team of horses to pull it. They said they have two nags whose riding days are behind them. But they can still pull a wagon.”
“And they’re going to start hauling food and supplies from the broken down tractor trailer rigs for you?”
“Yes.”
“But why?”
“I want to help get the town back to normal. I want to restock the shelves of the grocery store so people can start shopping again.”
“And pay with what?”
“Gold and silver coins. Or jewelry or gems.”
“So, you want to help the town get normal again, but only for those who are able to pay.”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“And what about those people who don’t have silver or gold or jewels to pay?”
“They’re just out of luck.”
Sloan got up to leave and commented as he walked out of the room, “You’ve got a kind heart, Mr. Savage. A real kind heart.”
-12-
Sloan thought of killing Savage but decided not to.
He wasn’t sure why, exactly. It would have been as easy as taking candy from a baby.
A big fat toady baby.
He supposed it was because he was having a momentary feeling of compassion.
Or perhaps it was more likely he just didn’t want to bother.
It could have been a big payday for him if he’d been able to get into the bank’s vault.
But Savage had maintained from the beginning that the vault was on a time lock, and could only be opened during a short window in the morning and again in the afternoon.
He’d also mentioned to Jesse Luna once, in Sloan’s presence, that the vault’s surveillance cameras were still working, because the heavy steel vault had protected them and their battery system from the EMP’s destructive waves.
And that anytime the vault was opened the video feed was automatically transmitted wirelessly to a secret location somewhere in Blanco.
And at that secret location, men who were on Savage’s payroll would watch it on a monitor obtained from Crazy Eddie the prepper before he was murdered.
Of course, it was probably all bullshit, concocted by Savage to give Luna and Sloan less reason to force their way into the vault and loot it.
But Savage was a brutal man by anyone’s standards. And he’d shown before that he wasn’t a man who should be discounted.
For he was occasionally smarter than he looked.
Savage contended that his men were close by and were always on hand during the time lock’s access times.
And that they had standing orders.
Orders to storm the bank with guns blazing if they ever saw Savage under duress, or even anyone else in the vault with him.
That under such a situation they were to shoot everyone except for Savage.
It might be just a wheelbarrow load of cattle poop.
But just knowing that Savage was capable of putting such a plan in place… just the possibility, was enough to convince Sloan he shouldn’t be tempted.
This was not a particularly good day to die.
Sloan accepted Savage’s offer to take a bottle of whiskey with him.
As a going away gift.
It didn’t hurt Savage any.
His vault held much more than other people’s money.
It also held the entire backroom stock of the town’s only liquor store.
The store Savage had looted the day after the blackout, after convincing the former police chief he had claim to it all.
“I hold the mortgage for the building, and hold the notes for three outstanding loans which will never be paid,” he’d claimed. “I lay claim to the building and everything in it.”
The old police chief hadn’t argued, because… well, because there had never been a permanent worldwide blackout before. He wasn’t sure what was legal and what wasn’t anymore.
But Savage was sure convinced he had the legal authority to take the stuff.
Savage paid a crew of four men to move every last bottle of liquor and wine to the bank’s vault, and paid them for their work with a case of bourbon for each of them.
He also gave the police chief a case for not disputing his claim to the stuff.
The chief said he shouldn’t, but then took the booze anyway.
Morals were all well and good, after all.
But whiskey is whiskey.
-13-
Red and Jacob said their goodbyes to Dennis Bryant, and two ranch hands escorted them to the eastern boundary of the ranch alongside Highway 281.
They were now on the highway to Blanco. For Red, the final stretch toward home.
For Jacob, Blanco offered nothing but the promise of a strange new environment, no more home than the prairie he hunkered down to sleep in every morning.
But Red would be there. And to hear her tell it, Blanco was a nice little town before the blackout ruined everything.
“It can be a nice town again,” she said. “But there are a few things we need to do to clean it up a bit first.”
It went without saying what she was talking about.
As it became time for the pair to part ways with their cowboy escorts, one of the ranch hands reached behind him into his saddlebag.
“Mr. Bryant asked me to give you these.”
He pulled out a crimping tool, two bundles of fifty wire strips about a foot long apiece, and some crimps.
“He said he had it on good authority you already had wire cutters, so I didn’t bring any of those,” he said as he handed the tools over to Red.
She smiled.
“These are all extras. He said to keep them until you come to call again. And if you forget to bring them back, not to worry about it. He said not to use the lost tools as an excuse not to come and visit us again.”
“Please tell Mr. Bryant thanks. For this and for everything else.”
“I’ll do that, ma’am. Do you know how to mend the fences?”
“I certainly do. It’s just one of the things my daddy taught me as a youngster.”
“Pardon me for saying so, ma’am. But it’s hard to imagine you as a youngster.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, ma’am. You strike me as one of those rare souls who is born full of spit and vinegar. Who’s already wise to the ways of the world from the day her feet first hit the ground.”
“Thank you. I guess. I assume that’s a compliment.”
“It is indeed. And if you don’t mind me saying so, you’re right pretty too. Toughness looks very good on a woman.”
Red thought it quite odd that the man waited so long to flirt with her. But then again, she knew it took some men longer than others to work up the nerve to talk to a pretty girl. She wasn’t upset or offended by it. Rather, she thought it was kind of sweet.
“Well, thank you…”
“Alan. Alan Whitaker.”<
br />
“Thank you, Alan. That’s kind of you to say.”
She stole a look over at Jacob, who was rolling his eyes. She could almost read his mind, and knew exactly what he’d say after Whitaker and his friend rode away.
“Oh, brother,” he’d say. “Can you believe that guy?”
The four shook hands and said goodbye.
Red and Jacob watched them ride away at a fast gallop, then turned their ponies south.
They still rode inland, keeping the highway just in sight, instead of riding on the more dangerous shoulder of the highway itself.
It was infinitely safer riding this way, but meant they’d still encounter an occasional range fence blocking their path.
Now, though, it was less of a problem. For now they had the tools and materials they needed to repair such fences after they’d crossed them.
They were a full ten minutes out, after Whitaker left them behind, when Jacob sighed deeply and observed, “Oh, brother. Can you believe that guy?”
She said nothing, but laughed loudly.
“What? What are you laughing at?”
“Oh, nothing.”
He grew quiet for several minutes. By the time he spoke again, he seemed to forget all about the ranch hands or Whitaker’s flirting.
“So, how do you want to do this?”
“Do what, Jacob?”
“Do you think those guys have given up on us, or are still chasing? Should we ride during the days or stick to night riding?”
She pondered his question, and then replied, “I think we should go with what’s prudent. Riding at night might slow us down a bit, but it has its advantages. It’s a lot safer for one, and a lot cooler too. And I’ve always preferred the beauty of the night sky to the burning hot sun.
“I say let’s continue to travel at night. It’s just a few hours until sunset. Let’s tough it out today, and then keep right on riding until close to sunrise. When it gets close to sunrise we’ll find a good place to bed down for the day.”
She looked at him for his reaction, and he merely shrugged his shoulders.
As far as he was concerned, he didn’t much care whether they traveled by moonlight or light of day. He didn’t care whether they rode across the middle of Texas or the surface of the moon.
Return to Blanco (Red Book 4) Page 4