Desperado

by Hardesty Victoria; Perez Nancy;

  Henry was a businessman who struggled from childhood poverty in the Eastern European slums of New York City. He put himself through school and worked in restaurants washing dishes and mopping floors and doing jobs no one else wanted. His mother, in her dowdy house dress and babushka, worked as a maid to help him. He got himself hired by a Wall Street brokerage firm and worked day and night to make his first million. He plundered other brokers accounts and did whatever it took to make money. He remained single because he didn’t have the time or inclination to find himself a wife. He decided he didn’t need the distraction of one anyway.

  That was before he met Savannah Hooper. He was attending a fundraiser for a good cause in a five-star hotel in San Francisco and went more to mingle and make business connections than stand for the cause. He was smitten clear across the room by the loveliest creature he’d ever laid his eyes on. Like everything else in his life, he refused to take “NO” for an answer and married her within six months. It didn’t matter to him that he was short, balding and paunchy around the middle. When the beautiful Savannah got wind of the size of his bank account, it didn’t bother her either.

  She taught him the fine art of developing connections through entertaining. He bought her a large penthouse in New York City, a lovely compound along the lakeshore outside of Chicago, a large flat in London and a beautiful villa in Tuscany. Her current wish list included a place in Colorado to bring friends during the ski season and occasional summer retreats. He found a nice 20-acre property. There was one property between his and Cold Water Creek Ranch to the south and one property between his and the Jorgensen place to the north. He lucked out and found an older couple wanting to retire to Florida. He paid cash for it. He had his architect draw up plans for a 20,000 square foot ski lodge on three levels. It included opulent rooms for guests, a huge game room for the gentlemen, a large open kitchen and living room, and large partially covered decks to take advantage of the view. Savannah had been to the property and wanted a bridge built over the brook which ran slightly away from the outdoor deck area. She wanted a small deck built on the other side of the bridge to take advantage of the sunshine during the summer.

  He had nothing but trouble getting his plans approved in the first place. His architect had to make change after change to satisfy the planning department in Boulder. When he added the bridge and small deck on the other side of the main outdoor deck, they turned him down flat. In order to build that, he would have to cut down a small stand of two-hundred-year-old Cottonwood trees that grew beside the brook. They were protected by law. He could not cut them down; therefore he could not build his bridge and deck where he wanted them.

  He’d also had nothing but trouble with the contractors. Either they didn’t show up when they were supposed to or they did and made changes that were not approved by the inspectors or him. The entire project had been nothing but a trial.

  The last straw was the refusal of the planning department to let him remove the trees that were in his way. He would fix that once and for all if it took every penny he had. He made one call. “Do you know who I am?” he asked the man who answered the phone. “Well, then, we understand each other. I need a job done as soon as possible. I will send you the specifications for the job and an extra package for your trouble. Is there anything else you need from me?” Henry nodded his head as he hung up the phone. He called his secretary in and gave her a package to over-night to Denver for him, closed his office and went home without another thought about his problem. It was taken care of as far as he was concerned.

  On his way down in the elevator, he thought about it for a while. Colorado had not been one of his favorite places. First, there was the darned rabbit that jumped in front of him and almost scared him to death in the woods. It was just so unexpected is all. The rabbit didn’t frighten him, it was just the surprise, he conceded. Then that horrible horse tried to run him down. Then his very polite conversation with an 80-year-old woman ended in her screaming at him and the horse trying to attack him again. He was stuck on the highway for two hours because of the damage that horse did to his rental car. He wanted his revenge against that horse.

  He’d tried through several agents to buy it and, no matter how much he offered for it, the old woman turned him down. The horse was not for sale.

  It took a while, but one of his people dug up her son’s phone number. He called him personally and offered up to six figures for the horse. The son had no interest in the horse himself but couldn’t talk his mom into selling him. He tried calling her daughter as well and they had a nice long conversation. She wanted her mother to move in with her and sell the whole ranch but she refused. She couldn’t live in a two-story house with college kids running in and out at all hours. Hilda Jorgensen was perfectly healthy so there was nothing her children could do until she passed away or got sick enough to be put in a home. But they both saw the dollar signs every time they visited their mother and she dragged them down to the ranch to see her Desperado. Both of them kept Henry Babcock’s private number close at hand.

  Henry Babcock knew he would exact his revenge. It was just a matter of time. He’d try to be patient.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  As soon as the riders left the ranch, the ladies went back to the house to clean up the kitchen, have another cup of coffee or tea and sit in the living room visiting. They laughed as they told each other stories about their children and their husbands. The men finished up the ranch tour and sat relaxing on the back patio to enjoy the view. In was beautiful in Colorado that time of year. The sun was shining and the air was a balmy seventy-eight degrees. White fluffy clouds formed over the tops of the mountain peaks to the west changing shape with each passing moment. The shade of the patio was comfortable. The meadow beyond the ranch was green and peppered with wildflowers. The mountains in the distance took on a blueish hue while the closer ones appeared green and glorious. Younger children played with one of Todd’s soccer balls in the grass beyond the patio or amused themselves playing Todd’s video games in the playroom off the kitchen.

  A stiff breeze blew up from the south a little before noon. It began to blow hard and those outside came in to get out of the wind. The first sign of trouble to come was the sirens along the highway when the first Forestry Service trucks went charging into battle with a rapidly spreading fire. The wind was gusty now and blowing hard to the north. Chris and Sharon heard the sirens and went outside to look. They saw nothing south or west of the ranch and walked up the driveway to the highway. That’s when they saw the large cloud of black smoke blown by the winds. It was north of them, but not very far. As they watched in disbelief, they saw the fire jump the highway and begin burning on the west side. Soon a long line of red fire trucks came blasting down the highway heading north. There was a large development of homes east of the highway in that direction. These brave men and women were going to try and get ahead of the fire and set up structure protection for that development. Evacuees began streaming south along the highway. Chris heard the first helicopter in the air as the clouds of black smoke grew larger and thicker.

  Chris looked at Sharon and said, “I’d better ride out and get the kids back here. I don’t think it’s a good idea for them to be out in the woods with all this going on.” He turned and headed for the barn. Chris took his personal riding horse out of the stall and saddled him quickly. He walked out of the barn and galloped him to the back fence of the property. He leaned over and opened the gate and kept on riding as quickly as he could for the meadow where the kids were going for their ride and lunch.

  Chris’s heart stopped when he reached the meadow and found it empty. He could see where the kids had been and where the horses were tied between trees. Rocks along the bank of the stream were still wet above the water line which told him they had not been gone long. He looked around and found their tracks. Following the trail of hoof prints and road apples, he realized they were heading north. That was exactly what he didn’t want to find. He followed their tracks un
til they disappeared in the burning brush left behind by the fire. He was choking from the smoke. The heat was getting to his horse. Ash and burning embers covered everything. He followed the trail until he couldn’t continue without harming himself or his horse. The winds were whipping ash in the air so much it was difficult for him to breath. His eyes and the eyes of his horse were streaming tears from the smoke. He could see the active fire to the north. He was beside himself. He turned his horse around and rode home as fast as possible. He’d told those kids to go only where they said they were going. They ignored his instructions. Now they were in danger of a raging fire behind them and no way to get back home! He prayed they were able to outrun the fire on horseback. He was sick to think maybe they couldn’t.

  Chris hollered for Sharon as he galloped past the house for the barn. She rushed out as he untacked his horse. He was angry and he was scared. He had no idea what to do.

  Shaking, Chris told Sharon what he’d found. Sharon was panicked. “What are we going to do?” she asked. “We’d better call Hilda Jorgensen. Her ranch is right in the path of that fire. She doesn’t drive. She needs to get out of there. I think we need to call the Fire Department and let them know the kids are out in that and about Hilda too. Hilda needs help to evacuate and we can’t get there from here.”

  Sharon rushed to her office in the barn to make the calls, thankful for something to do. Chris went back to the house to break the news to the families there.

  Sharon returned to the house a few minutes later. She told Chris that Hilda did not answer her phone. All they could do was pray Hilda found a ride out. She told the Fire Department about the nine riders who were probably in the path of the fire, explaining they were all thirteen and fourteen years old and on horseback. She gave the phone numbers for the barn, the house, and both cell phone numbers to contact if they located the kids. She let them know the parents of the riders were at Cold Water Creek Ranch with them waiting for news.

  The mood in the room was somber as the news settled in. There were nine kids out there in the path of a major fire and there was not one thing they could do but sit and wait for news. Several mothers broke down. They were comforted by their husbands. After a while, things got quiet. The adults didn’t have much to say. The younger kids played quietly in the playroom. They knew something was wrong but not what. They sensed the mood of the adults and stayed together out of the way. No one left the ranch that night. None of the parents got much sleep.

  Henry Babcock was in his penthouse office in San Francisco and turned on the television to the ABC affiliate for the early news broadcast about 4:00 p.m. that afternoon. He wanted to catch the commuter traffic report. He had a date with his wife at the Met that night at 8:00 p.m. and needed to know how long it would take to get home so he could shower and change. He was stunned when the broadcast covered a forest fire just north of Boulder, Colorado during the broadcast. It showed some aerial shots that looked like it could be near his land in Colorado. He made some phone calls. He was further alarmed when he heard it was his land in Colorado and might have been the place where the fire originated. The TV newscaster reported it as a major fire engulfing acres of land, homes, ranches, and wildland with no end in sight and, more importantly, it was a suspected arson case. He tried to reach the number he had in Denver and got no answer. He tried several more times on his way home to no avail. He excused himself from the production at the Met several times to call the number in Denver with no result. Besides having to explain away his absences to his lovely wife, he was irritated by the nonresponsiveness of the man he hired. He made several more calls and the people promised to report to him in the morning. All he could do was wait.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Just as the nine riders passed Cold Water Creek Ranch heading north, a new red Corvette pulled into the driveway at the construction site a quarter of a mile north of the ranch. A man stepped out of the car and looked around, seeing a group of large cottonwood trees across the brook from the building site. He noticed the framing for a three-story structure was almost complete. The interior walls were framed but the plumbing and electrical work were not yet finished. He saw a staked area close to the trees on the other side of the brook. “That must be it,” he thought to himself. He noticed orange ribbons around the lower branches of four of the cottonwood trees. They were the ones in the way of the staked area. It was obvious where his work needed to be done.

  The man began pulling items from the trunk of the car and stacked them on the driveway. There was little traffic along the highway and his car was screened by the construction, so he wasn’t too worried about being seen. He pulled four thick paper canisters out of the trunk and punctured a hole in the bottom of each one. In doing that, he accidentally cut his thumb on his knife. He didn’t notice the three drops of blood that dripped onto the driveway while he worked. He pushed a fuse through the bottom of each canister, filling the hole he punched in it. He sat the canisters on the driveway and pulled out a container of a dry chemical compound he’d perfected for his special purpose. He filled each paper canister with the dry powdery substance, put a lid on each one and tucked them into a pouch slung around his neck. He would be doing his work on the side of the trees away from the highway. A stiff breeze blew across the site scattering leaves and debris. The breeze dissipated a little. The breeze came and went as the man put his devices together. He walked toward the trees until he came to the edge of the brook. The man had to either wade across the brook or attempt to jump over it. He looked at his shoes and shook his head. Either way, they were going to get wet. He rolled up his pants legs and waded, carrying his tools with him. He heard a few cars pass by on the highway, but he wasn’t visible behind the massive trunks of the trees as he worked. The breeze increased in intensity while he worked. He thought he should have checked on the weather for this afternoon, but put that thought out of his mind when he remembered the size of the package that was delivered to him that day. All he had to do was burn these four trees and he could enjoy a nice vacation in the Bahamas.

  The man used a lawn rake to push dead leaves and debris in a deep layer on the ground around the base of the trees. He used a staple gun to attach the paper containers to the trees themselves and adjusted the fuses to extend down to the level of the debris. He flicked his lighter and touched the first fuse. It sparked to life and gave off a puff of smoke as the fuse burned upward toward his homemade incendiary device. He flicked his lighter three more times and saw three more fuses begin to burn. The fuse on the first tree dropped sparks down into the leave pile at the base of the tree. It began smoldering.

  By the time he’d lit all four fuses, the breeze strengthened into a strong wind blowing 40 miles per hour from the south as a cold front moved into the area along the eastern edge of the mountains. A low-pressure system from the west forced the high-pressure system over the area to move north. The front created winds that blew northward and grew in strength and intensity rather quickly. As the man watched, one of his devices blow off the tree and landed in the leaf pile at the base. It exploded in flames. The wind blew blazing leaves around which started other spot fires. He watched in a weird fascination as embers drifted into the framing of the mansion across the brook. The wind fanned the flames by the trees into the wooden framework. Very quickly the small fire became a raging inferno. The wood framing provided an excellent source of dry fuel. The wind increased available oxygen to the fire and it began to devour everything in its path. Once the flames reached the third floor of the mansion, embers were blown into the crowns of the tall pines close by. The ground fires were spreading at the same time and caught the lower branches of those same trees. The 40-foot trees became candles burning from bottom to top spreading flames to neighboring trees and shooting flames 50 feet high in the air above them.

  The man realized he’d made a complete mess of this job. This wasn’t something he’d expected. He was used to setting fires inside of buildings or vehicles, not out in the open. He forgot about his sh
oes and his pant legs and ran through the brook, tossed his tools in the trunk, slammed the trunk shut and climbed into the Corvette. He backed out of the driveway. He turned onto the highway and put the pedal to the metal. He didn’t see one of the other incendiary devices blew off the tree he attached it to. It fell in the brook. The water extinguished it and swept it downstream. It snagged on rocks close to the surface a few feet from where it entered the water. The flow of the water was not strong enough to dislodge it.

  The man had to get out of the area as quickly as possible. He headed for Boulder and that fancy hotel restaurant and bar where he’d left his date for the weekend while he did a “little business” outside of town. From the look on his face when he showed up to get her, she didn’t argue when he told her they had to get back to Denver. She didn’t ask him about his wet pants and shoes. She didn’t ask him about the soot on his clothes and his hands. During the drive, the man reached his travel agent by phone and had two seats booked on a flight through Miami to the Bahamas. He got back to his townhouse and packed a suitcase before driving his friend to her apartment so she could pack one too. They were on a flight out of the country within hours.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The first call on the fire came into the Fire Dispatch Center minutes after the red Corvette pulled out on the highway heading for Boulder. By the time the first responders arrived, the winds were blowing forty miles an hour due north and the structure of the mansion was in ruins. Most of the framework had fallen in on the foundation, still smoldering and burning here and there. The four cottonwood trees were scorched. One had significant burning up the south side of the tree but all of them would probably survive the fire. The rest of the forest was in trouble. Fire burning up the trunks of the pines crowned, sending flames and embers into neighboring treetops. Ground fires were spreading north at a rapid pace, enveloping shrubs and grasses and lighting the bottoms of the tall trees and the shorter aspens in their way.