In body she was still in the back yard of an old farm house in tiny Morgan, Texas.
But her soul was in a field, in a place many miles and many years removed.
Silas was there, a young man. Strong and tall as a hundred year oak, a head full of jet black hair and as handsome as the day they’d married.
He was soaked as well as he held both her hands and turned her slowly about.
“The rain looks good upon you, my lovely lady,” he told her.
“Well, thank you, kind sir. Is this what heaven feels like? Because I feel as though I never want to leave.”
“Heaven is wherever you are, Beth. And there is absolutely no reason for you to.”
He slowly dissipated into nothingness. It saddened her to discover that Silas wasn’t really there. But as the passing storm slowed to a trickle it gave her joy to relive one of her very best memories.
She trudged back into her house feeling a bit foolish. But also feeling a renewed sense of life and a willingness to trudge on again for just a little bit longer.
-17-
Red pulled an olive drab poncho from her saddlebag as the wind started to pick up and the sky to the south of them started to darken.
“Better get your gear out,” she told Jacob. “Storm coming.”
“Gear? What gear?”
She thought he was kidding until she saw his face.
Without a word she opened the saddlebag a second time and shoved the poncho back into it.
“What are you doing?” he demanded. “Put your gear on. Protect yourself. Just because I was a dumbass and didn’t pack my gear doesn’t mean you shouldn’t use your own.”
She smiled slyly at him.
“We’re a team, partner. When one of us suffers, we all do. It’s part of what being a team’s all about.”
She didn’t have to add, “Even when one of the team is a dumbass,” but she did anyway.
He laughed.
They hunkered down in an apple orchard half a mile off the highway. The trees weren’t aligned in neat rows as most orchards were. Rather they’d been allowed to grow willy-nilly. That probably made it hard for the pickers to remember which trees had been worked and which ones hadn’t.
But it had the unexpected effect of making a great hiding place for two travelers on horseback. For once they were deeply within the stand of trees they were hidden completely.
It was as though someone had thoughtfully planted a small forest on this central Texas prairie, just for them to take refuge in.
The trees wouldn’t protect them from the rain, though, and as it fell it turned quickly into a torrent.
Whoever had planted the orchard some fifty years before surveyed their land carefully. The trees were planted in a depression to take advantage of rainwater runoff and to lessen the need for irrigation.
Good for the trees, but bad for the people taking shelter beneath them.
Water began to pool beneath their feet. And it would soak their sleeping bags if they were foolish enough to roll them out.
The news wasn’t all bad.
The apples in this particular orchard still hadn’t been picked. And although picking season had been over for awhile, many were still edible.
The horses liked that fact as well, and eagerly started to gorge themselves.
“Hobble them and tie them to different trees a hundred yards apart,” Red instructed the boy. “Then kick all the ground apples out of their reach. Pick most of the ones they can reach on the tree and toss them away.”
“But why? They like apples. Why not let them eat?”
“Because they won’t stop eating. They’ll get sick. They may get constipated. They may get a blockage. They could die. Or they could be so miserable they might refuse to move. Let them have five or six apiece, but no more.”
He untied his mount from the tree where Red tied hers and started to lead him away.
Then he got curious.
“Why tie them up a hundred yards apart?”
As if on cue, the sky above them lit up with a brilliant flash of lightning.
His horse reared, frightened by the flash.
Red merely pointed upward and yelled above the howling wind, “That’s why.”
He still didn’t understand, but led his horse away and followed her instructions.
When he returned he found Red huddled under a tree, her back against it, the muddy water at her feet up to the top of her boot’s heels. She’d positioned her new Stetson so that it caught the rain and channeled it off its brim, forming a tiny waterfall in front of her nose.
But her face and head were relatively dry.
He asked, “Seriously, why don’t you use your poncho? There’s no reason for both of us to be miserable.”
“I never really liked that poncho anyway. It’s heavy plastic. It makes me sweat. I end up just as wet when I wear it as I do when I don’t.”
“Well, I guess I can look at the bright side,” he answered. “I needed a shower anyway.”
“Yeah, I was gonna mention that to you. You kinda sorta did.”
“So, I didn’t understand. Why is it important to separate the horses? And what does it have to do with the lightning?”
“When lightning strikes out here on the prairie, it usually strikes the highest point.
“If there are no cell towers or windmills nearby, it’ll generally strike a tree.
“And when it does, the electric current travels down through the roots surrounding the tree. A horse tied to the tree might be electrocuted.
“If one horse is killed in such a manner, we can get by with the other one. But if both…”
He finished her sentence for her.
“If both are killed, we have to walk the rest of the way. Smart thinking.”
“As far as the apples, they’re like candy to a kid. Too much at one time and they can get a killer bellyache. Only to a horse it can be fatal. It can bind them up and block their intestines. If it doesn’t kill them, it can give them a hell of a tummy ache.
“What we’ll do is pick a bunch of extra apples and stuff them into the extra saddlebag. Some for the horses, some for us. And we can ration them out over the next few days.”
Jacob grew quiet for several minutes. Red got the sense he had something to say, but was hesitant to do so.
Finally, a loud crack of lightning almost directly overhead loosened his tongue.
“Red, what you said about the horses being tied to a tree and being electrocuted if lightning stuck that tree…”
“Yes?”
“Wouldn’t the same apply to humans?”
“Yep. Why?”
“Oh, just wondering…”
-18-
The rain finally moved on and the birds in the trees began to sing again. That was Red’s clue that the bad weather had finished its abuse of them.
There was no second wave coming.
For Red knew that birds will not sing if they sense a storm coming.
It was just another thing among many that Butch had taught her about the outdoors.
“Now what?” Jacob asked.
“We have a few hours of daylight left. It’s not a good idea to leave the shelter of the trees until after dark. Not when we’re surrounded by flat ground in all directions. A halfway decent shot could pick us off from three hundred yards away, and we wouldn’t even be able to see him to fire back, if he was lying on the ground.”
“But the ground is saturated. It’s half mud and half water.”
“No shit, Sherlock. That’s why I brought a hatchet.”
“I thought you brought the hatchet for firewood.”
“I did. But most tools can be used for more than one thing. Watch and learn, my friend. Watch and learn.”
Jacob watched as she used her razor-sharp hatchet to cut several leafy branches off of three or four trees. She threw them into a pile and, once satisfied the pile was high enough, she handed the hatchet to her partner.
“Select branches
with lots of leaves. The more leaves, the softer your bed will be. And don’t take too many branches off of any one tree. If you do the tree may go into shock and die. Trees are our friends. Especially fruit and nut trees.”
“Why especially fruit and nut trees?”
“Another thing my daddy taught me. Never plant a tree that can’t give you something in return for all the care and effort you put into it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, never plant an elm or a birch tree when you can plant an apple or a peach or a pecan tree. You can eat apples, peaches and pecans.
“You can’t eat elms or birches. Well, you could, I guess. But you’d have to be awful damn hungry, they’d break your teeth and give you very little nutritional value.”
“I see.”
“I’m glad. Because I can’t explain it any plainer than that.”
He grew sullen and silent.
“What’s the matter?”
“All the things you know, and that I don’t. It makes me feel dumb all over again. All my life people have called me slow. I always got angry and fought to prove I was just as smart as anyone else. Now you come along and I really do feel inferior.”
She put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Oh, Jacob, stop that. You’re one of the smartest guys I know. And I promise you, I’m no smarter than you are. Probably a lot less so. The only difference between you and me is that I had my daddy to teach me things. And one of the best things he taught me was that knowledge is meant to be shared. That’s why I want you to learn everything I know about traveling and making camp without being seen. How to care for animals. How to treat horses and people when they’re sick and injured.
“It’s not that I’m smarter than you by any means. In fact, you’ve thought me a couple of valuable things already. Things that’ll help me in the long run.”
He was surprised.
“Such as…”
“Such as the way you slept while you were guarding those horses back in Lubbock. With the horses hobbled and their leads tied to your foot. With your body laying in the shadows of the building with only your feet and the business end of your rifle sticking out. So that nobody could untie the horses without waking you up. And since your face was in the shadows, nobody could tell whether you were dead asleep or looking right at them.
“That was very clever.”
“Yeah, well… it only works if you don’t snore.”
“Good point.”
“What else have I taught you, pray tell?”
“You taught me never to judge a book by its cover.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, at first glance you didn’t look like much. A boy who was worn down and weak. Come to find out you’re as capable as any man. More capable than most. I’m proud to have you as my partner.”
He adopted a puzzled look.
“I’m not sure whether that’s more compliment or more an expression of disappointment.”
“I’m not disappointed in you, Jacob. I’m impressed. And I was wrong about you. Usually my first impressions are dead on. I thought you’d be a burden when I agreed to bring you along. But you’ve saved my life once and I have no doubt you’ll do it again if called upon. I’m glad you’re with me.”
“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”
-19-
Red and Jacob were still three days’ ride from Blanco, and just a few miles from where Beth was cooling her heels in Morgan.
A tall stranger rode through the main gate of the Twisted Seven Ranch.
He was a big man, long and lean, with a tough look about him. He was a cowboy of old, confident in the saddle and with a certain air about him.
A confidence and air that said without saying he was a lawman.
“Good day to you,” he said to the sentry. “I understand the owner of the ranch is a man named Bryant. I’d like to visit with him, if I could.”
“You’ll have to state your business first, stranger.”
“My name is Maloney. I’m a Texas Ranger,” he stated as he held out a tarnished and beat up old badge.
“I understand he has a working radio and has offered to make it available to the Rangers upon request.”
The sentry, a man named Zachary Chandler, examined the badge and said, “If you don’t mind me saying so, Ranger, that thing looks like it’s seen better days.”
The big man atop the horse smiled and agreed.
“You’d be a little worn too if you were over a hundred years old.”
“Yes, sir. I reckon I would. Hold on one minute, would you?”
“Certainly.”
“Tony, this is Zach, come in.”
The Ranger didn’t seemed surprised the sentry had a working two-way radio. After all, a ranch which had the ability to communicate across Texas and the world probably had an array of other working technology as well.
The man’s radio sprang to life.
“Go ahead, Zach.”
“Texas Ranger at the gate. Wants to see Mr. Bryant.”
“Okay. We have him in sight. Have him come ahead.”
The sentry turned back to the Ranger and said, “It’s the house straight ahead, sandwiched between the barn and the bunkhouse. Someone will meet you on the front porch.”
Randy nodded and said, “Thank you, sir,” and rode off at a gallop.
One of the things that frustrated the security team at the Twisted Seven was the independence of the ranch’s owner. Dennis Bryant was a proud man who feared no one.
Although he was well aware that there were men in the area who were jealous of what he had and what he had accomplished. Jealous enough, perhaps, to want to do him harm.
Other men might have made that reason to keep a low profile. Perhaps even to hide from strangers and outsiders.
But not Dennis Bryant. Bryant didn’t let that change the way he was.
Before the blackout he was outgoing and sociable. The kind of person who, like Will Rogers, never met a man he didn’t like.
And now, many months after the blackout began, he was still the same way.
He had no way of knowing whether the man on the tall horse was really a Ranger. He’d shown the sentry a badge, sure. But that badge could well have been taken off a dead Ranger after a bad man shot him in the back.
Despite that possibility, or the possibility that even a legitimate Ranger might want to wish him harm, Dennis Bryant was on that porch when the Ranger rode up. He didn’t send someone else to greet the visitor. To vet him before he was allowed in.
No, he was on the porch himself to greet his guest, to offer a big smile and a warm greeting and a friendly hand.
“Hello, stranger. I’m Dennis Bryant. How can I help you today?”
The Ranger stepped from his horse and tied him to the rail next to the front steps.
“Good morning, sir. I’m Corporal Randy Maloney, from Ranger Company C, based out of Lubbock.”
“You’re a long way from Lubbock, Ranger.”
“Yes, sir. I don’t see it near as much as I’d like to. They’ve got us on the road these days, going from town to town to check up on things and chase out any bad guys.”
“So I’ve heard. I’ve had the chance to talk to several other Rangers passing through over the past months.”
“Then you know why I’m here.”
“I reckon you’re here to borrow my radio, to call your headquarters and check in. And maybe to get your next assignment.”
“Yes, sir. That’s exactly it. And, to offer the appreciation of the Texas Rangers for your continued support.”
Bryant laughed.
As he shook the Ranger’s hand he asked, “Every Ranger that’s come through here has said that same thing. In almost exactly the same way. Now be honest with me, is that something your headquarters requires you to say? To thank me for my ‘continued support’?”
The Ranger flushed a bit, as though he were a kid caught peeking in the cupboard for something sweet to snack on.
&n
bsp; “Well, sir… you’re right. They do indeed ask us to pass that on to folks who are kind enough to assist us. But it also comes from my own heart too. You make my job a heck of a lot easier.”
“Well good. I’m glad about that. But no thanks are necessary. Even if you came to my house as surly as a hung over rattlesnake I’d still let you into my home to do your thing. I consider it my duty as a citizen and a Texan.”
The big Ranger smiled as he visualized what a hung over rattlesnake might look like.
“Follow me, Randy. I’ll show you where our radio is, and have my men step out to give you some privacy. In the meantime, I’ll ask my wife to put another plate at the lunch table, if you’d be kind enough to join us.”
Randy could smell fresh dinner rolls just out of the oven and his mouth began to water.
“That’s very kind of you, sir. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d love to.”
“I’ll go out on a limb and speak for Roxanna. It’s no trouble at all. She and Marsha Simpson and Alice Chalmers, they cook for almost forty people each and every meal. Between the preppin’ and the cookin’, it’s pretty much a full time job for the three of ‘em. But it’s a job they love, and they’d have my ass if I sent you away hungry.
-20-
After a full meal which included homemade apple pie and fresh-churned vanilla ice cream, Bryant invited the Ranger into his study.
He offered his guest a cigar, but Randy refused.
“No thank you, sir. I don’t smoke.”
“Maybe a brandy or a shot of bourbon?”
“No, sir. I don’t drink either.”
“What are your plans, Ranger? Where do you go from here?”
“I’m to head south. Someone outside of Victoria was able to get word to Austin that bad men have taken over their town. The police department has disbanded, and the county sheriff is short-handed. So short handed that the bad men outnumber them five to one.
“I’m meeting two other Rangers there to see if we can lend a hand and help clean the place up.”
“So you’ll be headed due south from here?”
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