by Chris Pike
A couple of shots were fired and Dillon speculated those were celebratory shots, either that or the person firing couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn.
It didn’t take them long to get to Anna’s house. It was a frame house, one story, at one time had been painted white, and from the outside it appeared small, perhaps with a couple of bedrooms, living area, and an eat-in kitchen. Old plastic toys were scattered in the yard, and couple of yard cats skittered away at the sight of Cowboy.
It was dark, and the house looked devoid of life. Fortunately, Dillon had a flashlight he brought from home that had been in a Faraday-type gun safe, where it was protected from the effects of the EMP.
“Anna, take my hand and I’ll let you down. I’ll take Cowboy to the backyard, so in case anyone gets an idea to steal him, Cowboy will be safe. I’ll come in for a moment to make sure your mom takes her medicine.”
Anna slipped down the saddle then skipped up the porch steps and swung open the screen door. It slammed shut with a thud. Dillon loosely tied Cowboy’s reins to one of the poles holding up the overhang on the back porch, if you could call it that. It was more like a wide inverted V over concrete steps. He told Cowboy to stay and not go anywhere while the chickens in the backyard coop flapped noisily.
“Mommy, you home? Mommy?”
A weak voice replied, “I’m here on the couch.”
“Mommy, I have the medicine you need,” Anna said. She reached into the backpack and took out the bottle. “And I’ve got peanut butter and bread,” she said proudly. She handed the bottle of medicine to her mother.
“Sweetie, put the peanut butter and bread in the kitchen and get me a glass of water.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
Dillon kicked the dirt off his boots on the top concrete step then knocked once before entering the house. The flashlight’s beam bounced around the room containing the usual furniture: a sofa, chair, coffee table, a few magazines scattered about, and a boxy TV on a stand in the corner.
“Anna? Who’s this?”
“He’s a friend. He helped me find the medicine for you.”
“Evening, ma’am,” Dillon said. “I wanted to make sure Anna got home safe and that you got the medicine you needed.”
“Thank you. I’m Dorothy Cooper. Please come in and sit down. Anna, would you get this nice man a drink of water?”
“That’s not necessary,” Dillon said, “I have water, and you’ll need to keep whatever you have.”
“Sweetie, would you get me a pillow, please?”
Anna scurried to the bedroom to fetch a pillow.
“Thank you so much for getting the antibiotics for me,” Dorothy said to Dillon. “The nurse called in the prescription right before the electricity went out. I stopped by the pharmacy, but they said their computers were down and that I’d have to come back tomorrow. As you know, tomorrow came and went, and no electricity. Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“Dillon Stockdale.”
Dorothy’s face relaxed into a worried scowl, and she swallowed audibly. Her gaze swiveled from the front door then back to Dillon. “Turn that flashlight off.”
“Is everything okay?” Dillon asked. He sensed the immediate change in her demeanor when he said his name.
“Turn it off.”
Dillon flicked the flashlight off. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Are you the Dillon Stockdale from Houston that was prosecuting Cole Cassel?”
“That’s me. How did you know that?”
“Everybody knows Cole and what a mean son of a bitch he is.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Dillon asked.
“Cole is back.”
“What’s he doing back here? How did he get here so fast?” Dillon asked.
“He probably stole a car. He’s good at that.”
Dillon nodded. “He’s done time for grand theft auto.”
“You know this is his home turf, don’t you?” Dorothy asked.
“I learned it the other day,” Dillon said.
“Animals always come back to what they know. He’s taking control of the city, street by street. Everybody is afraid of him, and he’s got spies everywhere. If any of them see you here, they’ll kill me.”
Dillon now understood why her demeanor had changed. “Dorothy, do you know if Cole is driving an old white truck, possibly a Ford?”
“I heard that he is.”
“What else have you heard?”
“Talk is that he’s already killed the sheriff and two deputies, and word got around that if anyone helps any of his enemies, he’ll kill that person and their entire family. So you see why you need to get out of here.”
Dillon nodded.
“I’ve also heard he’s sent out his henchmen to collect tolls on the country roads around here.”
“Someone already tried to collect from me.”
“What happened?” Dorothy asked.
Dillon lowered his voice. “Let’s just say the toll didn’t get paid.” Dillon paced the floor. “Do you know Holly Hudson by any chance?”
“We went to high school together.”
“Small world. Do you know where her parents’ place is?”
“Yes, most everyone knows where their spread is. They died though. I thought it had been sold.”
“Holly kept the house,” Dillon said. “Listen to me, things are going to get really bad really quickly. If you run out of food, you and your daughter can go to Holly’s place, but don’t tell anybody.”
“I appreciate that,” Dorothy said. “When electricity comes back on, we’ll be okay.”
Dillon shook his head. “It will be a long time before electricity comes back on. There was an EMP that hit the United States, probably several.”
“What’s an EMP?”
“I don’t have time to explain. If you have a gun, get it, and keep it handy. And those chickens you have in the coop outside? Those are worth more than gold. At night, bring them in and put them in an enclosed space, maybe a closet. Line the floor with paper. And if you have egg layers—”
“I do.”
“Then definitely bring them in the house every night, starting tonight. You’ll need the eggs yourself, and you can use them as barter. Money will soon be worthless.”
“We’re okay for a little while here. Good luck to you. I’m going to have to ask you to leave now. You understand?”
“I do,” Dillon said. “The offer is still open for you and your daughter to come out to Holly’s place.”
“Thank you,” Dorothy said. “Now please—”
“I’m leaving now.”
Chapter 29
The ride back to Holly’s place was uneventful. When Dillon passed by the ditch where Cole’s henchman lay dead, Cowboy must have sensed it by the way he hesitated and flared his nostrils when he trotted by.
Taking Cowboy to the barn, Dillon removed the riding equipment, hanging up the saddle, bit and bridle, and placing the pad on an old workbench. He put out some feed for Cowboy and the other horses then ran to the house.
Flinging open the front door, Dillon was greeted by a warning bark until Buster recognized his owner. Buster came over to him, wiggling all over and thumping his tail. Dillon reached down and scratched Buster behind his ears.
He set his backpack on a chair and went to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. Fortunately, there was still some water pressure, though the trickle of water from the faucet indicated the pressure was falling.
He went to Holly, who was still on the sofa. In the dim moonlight filtering in from the windows, he stood there a minute looking at her, admiring her tenacity and ability to push through the 150 mile bike ride from Houston to her ranch, especially injured. Learning about her history with Cole Cassel was an eye-opener, and now that Cole was back in town, Holly would be a sitting duck if she stayed here at the house by herself. He had planned on leaving first thing in the morning. Now he wasn’t so sure about that. He’d play it by ear regar
ding when he would leave. With everything going on, he hadn’t had much time to think about his daughter. He wondered how she was, where she was, and how he would find her. There was a lot of wide open country between East Texas and New Orleans, rivers to cross, towns to navigate, desperate people. With too many unknowns, he knew he had a big job in front of him.
Nudging her arm, Dillon said, “Holly, you need to wake up. I’ve got antibiotics for you.”
Holly opened her eyes a slit and yawned. “You’re back. What time is it?”
“Probably midnight. Can you sit up?”
“I think so,” Holly said. She rubbed her eyes.
“Here,” Dillon said, handing her the opened bottle of antibiotics. “Take one now, and try to drink as much water as possible.”
Taking a pill, Holly washed it down with a big gulp of water.
“These are the strongest ones I could find. They should start working soon. I’m guessing you’ll feel better in the morning.”
“I think I’ll go back to sleep. I’ll stay here on the sofa.”
“Wherever you want to sleep is fine by me. It’s your house. Sure you don’t want to sleep on your bed?”
“The sofa is good.” Holly briskly rubbed her arms. “I didn’t realize it’s so chilly. Can you get me that throw over there?” she asked, pointing to the chair in the corner.
Dillon retrieved the throw blanket and draped it loosely over Holly. “If you need anything, call me. I’ll leave the bedroom door open.”
In the morning, Holly woke to sunlight streaming into the room. She was surprised at how long she had slept and how restfully. It had been a while since she had slept so well. Maybe it was because of the country air, or the fact she was tired, or that her body needed rest to heal. Regardless of how she tried to rationalize it, she couldn’t help but to think she slept well because Dillon was in the house. It had been a long time since she felt safe.
She listened to the chorus of chirping birds filling the quiet morning through the open windows. In the city, she had never taken the time to listen to the birds, mainly because the windows were sealed shut what with central heat and air and all. That and the fact it wasn’t safe to leave the windows open. Plus there was something comforting about listening to the whir of central air-conditioning, the steady hum of cars outside, or merely the general beat of civilization. She had taken all that for granted up until a few days ago.
Although Holly couldn’t recognize the different songbird tunes, she did recognize the rhythmic tapping of a woodpecker.
Sitting up, she threw off the throw blanket and ran her fingers through her hair. What she wanted was a long, hot bath, clean hair, and a change of clothes. The bandage on her arm smelled a bit gamey, indicating it was high time her wound needed a good washing.
“You’re up,” Dillon said, walking into the room, Buster right behind him. “You look a million miles away. Penny for your thoughts?”
The question took Holly by surprise, and she wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. Be truthful or make something up? She decided on the former. “I was thinking about air-conditioning.”
Dillon laughed. “Enjoy the memories because it will be a long time before AC works again.” He held a plate of biscuits and scrambled eggs. “You hungry?”
“As a matter of fact, I am. Did you cook that yourself?”
“I ordered room service,” he deadpanned.
Holly laughed.
“Come on into the kitchen and let’s eat,” Dillon said.
He set the plate of biscuits and scrambled eggs on the table, poured canned peaches into a bowl, and asked Holly if she would like some coffee.
“I’m impressed. How did you make all this, especially the coffee?” Holly asked.
“It’s camp coffee, your specialty. Remember? The morning after coffee?”
“We were supposed to forget about that,” Holly said.
“While you were sleeping I gathered up a few eggs from the chicken coop, started a fire, and boiled water. The coffee I found in the pantry still smelled good, so I added some grounds, let it settle, and voila, you have coffee now. Be careful because not all the grounds settled, so watch out for the ones floating on top. The peaches were still in date.”
“My neighbor canned those.”
“The pantry is stocked full of canned peaches and pickled beets and cucumbers. I also found a basket of heirloom seeds. In a month, there will be a good crop of pecans. With a little work, we’ll be able to grow vegetables.”
Holly took a bite of scrambled eggs, mulling over the word ‘we’. It surprised her, not quite knowing if that was a slipup, or if Dillon meant to say that, especially since he was a masterful orator. She had heard him enough in the courtroom to know that he chose his words carefully. To her, it indicated he considered them a team. Maybe not a couple, but a team. It also indicated Dillon was planning on staying awhile, not simply passing through as a place to hang his hat for a night, as Holly had originally thought. He had gone to great trouble to get her antibiotics, postponing his trip by a day for when he had to leave to search for his daughter. She had taken up enough of his precious time.
“Dillon,” she said, “you really don’t need to waste anymore time here with me. Your daughter needs you more than I do. I’ll be alright here by myself. Buster can stay here with me.”
Dillon put down his fork. He kneaded his forehead, thinking, took a swallow of coffee. “Not with Cole Cassel back in town.”
Holly stared at him for a long second. She couldn’t believe what she heard. “How do you know that for sure?”
Dillon told Holly about the child he helped at the pharmacy and how he got her home safely. It was then he learned that Cole had come back to town.
“He’s already killed the sheriff and his two deputies. I also learned that he drives an old white truck.”
“Who told you all this?”
“Some woman, her name was…” he snapped his fingers searching for her name, “Dorothy Cooper.”
“About my age?”
Dillon nodded.
“Short, brown hair, big eyes?”
“That pretty much describes her. Do you know her?”
“We went to school together, starting in kindergarten. There was a bunch of girls Dorothy and I were friends with. Sometime around middle school, we grew apart. I had a couple of classes with her in high school, but we didn’t really hang around each other that much. We went different ways. I left to go to college, she stayed here.”
“She looks like she’s had a hard life,” Dillon said.
“She has a kid?”
“Yes, a brave little girl.”
Holly got up and took her dishes to the sink. She scraped the leftover biscuits and scrambled eggs into Buster’s bowl. “No need to let food go to waste. You don’t mind if Buster gets table food, do you?”
“No, not at all. He’ll need the extra calories,” Dillon said watching Buster scarf down the food.
“That was Cole here yesterday, wasn’t it?” Holly said, the realization hitting her about what he did. “That bastard! He was trying to kill us, wasn’t he?” Holly paced in front of the sink and cabinets, her anger building. “Why would he do that?”
“Because he wanted this place, knowing it was empty. He knew you were in Houston and probably thought you would stay there. Guess he didn’t count on me coming with you.”
Holly dropped her shoulders. “He killed Hector, didn’t he?”
“Probably.”
“That son of a bitch. Hector never did anything to anybody. What a waste.”
“Does Hector have any family around here?”
“None that I know of. Maybe a brother somewhere. He didn’t talk about his family much.”
Rising from his chair, Dillon went over to Holly. He stood facing her, and for the first time Holly felt at ease being so close to him. Dillon took her by the arms and she was keenly aware of how warm and strong his hands felt, and she was surprised at her reaction. Their rela
tionship, if you could call it that, was progressing backwards from the usual meet, get to know each other before the physical part happened. Getting the physical part out of the way had been first.
Holding each other’s gaze, the moment became heady and Dillon could have sworn she was looking at him with those same doe eyes she had the other night. He released the hold he had on her arms and backed away.
“Holly, you can’t stay here alone. It’s not safe anymore, especially since Cole knows you are here. Is there anyone you can stay with in town?”
“No. I’ve lost touch with everyone.” Holly scratched her head. “My parents had some good friends that have nearby ranches but I wouldn’t feel right imposing on them. They will be in the same situation as we are in. Food will be scarce, water too. I don’t want to be a burden on anyone.”
“Then there’s only one solution,” Dillon said. “You’re coming with me.”
Chapter 30
Holly stood there, stunned. She knew he was right because staying here by herself there was no way she was adequately prepared to defend her homestead. She had a ranch to run, crops to plant, food preparation… Then there was the matter of fuel. So many things to consider. In normal times, she wouldn’t have had an issue, all it would take would be to hire a couple of guys, pay them for all the heavy lifting, and life would be good.
Cole could come back at any time, day or night, catch her off guard or when she was asleep, and she’d be a goner. The things her parents had worked for all their lives would be in the hands of a murderer.
On the other hand, if she vacated the ranch, anyone could come in and occupy the place, because the expression possession is nine-tenths of the law would trump any law on the books during times like these. The types of people who would squat on a deserted homestead wouldn’t be concerned with a step-by-step checklist regarding the proper protocol of squatter’s rights.
New laws would be formed by those that were stronger, those who would conquer, settling scores with the laws of the old west that were swift in dispensing justice. Holly might have been well educated in modern laws, court procedures, and loopholes, but the law of the gun ruled now and she knew it.