Kiamichi Reunion: Book Five of the Kiamichi Survival Series

by C. A. Henry

  “Thank you. I promise, I’ll do everything in my power to be an asset on the trip, and all of you are welcome to anything here that you can carry. As to staying on, we’ll see.”

  Stevie cleared her throat. “We were planning to make off with your inner tubes and the floatie I found in the garage. Jeff’s wound is much better, but he needs to keep it out of the river water, so it doesn’t get infected again. I figured that floatie would work, since it has a bottom in it. It’s almost like a small raft. And we can sure use some food.”

  “Veggies and fruits. Anything freeze-dried or dehydrated would be best, because it’s lightweight. I’ve been setting snares for rabbits and squirrels, but we need more than meat,” Helen told him. “And do you have any extra arrows for that bow you mentioned? That would be a good addition to our weapon collection, both for protection and for getting food.”

  “I have plenty of arrows. In fact, my dad’s bow is here, too, if someone didn’t take it, and there should be several arrows with it. There’re a few guns and some ammo hidden around here, too, if we need it. Can any of you shoot a compound bow?”

  Jeff grinned. “I can. I’ve shot wild turkeys, deer, antelope, javelina, feral hogs, and elk with my bow. Hey, wait a minute; I’ve got an idea. We could modify the plan a little and make it safer for us, if we use bows to start the show.”

  Massey’s eyes met Jeff’s, and Jeff watched as Massey processed the idea, and got a knowing gleam in his eye.

  ~~~~

  About an hour before sunrise, the group was up, dressed, armed, and making their way through the trees to a farm south of the Barnett place. They moved quietly, checking their surroundings constantly. Massey led the way, hoping he was right about where the gang’s base was.

  As a pinkish glow spread across the eastern sky, Massey signaled for the others to gather close behind a huge cedar tree. Massey got out his drawing of the layout and reviewed the plan.

  “The Pitts farm is about fifty yards ahead. The first structure is the well house, which is northeast of the house, and it’s a small cube, about five feet high, wide, and long. Then the house, which is a rectangle with the length running east and west. The barn, about forty yards southwest of the house, has doors on the north and south, and the chicken house is attached to it on the west, I think.

  “I hope I’m remembering it all correctly. The owner has never been very sociable, so I haven’t been there in years. They may have added some buildings, but probably not, since he never wanted to do much work, and wasn’t well off. I think the owner was the ringleader of the attack on my family, and he’s as mean as a snake. His name is Sid Pitts. He’s an older guy, covered with tattoos, and wears sunglasses a lot. The last time I saw him, he had a gray Van Dyke beard, but who knows now? If you see him, kill him. Don’t let him get close.

  “And watch out for his dog. He has a big ol’ dog that goes everywhere with him. I’m not sure about the mutt’s disposition, but if he’s anything like his master, he’ll be a killer.

  “Another one I recognized was Donnie Dunn. Watch out for him. He’s crazy, but can act nice and friendly when he wants to. Sometimes he’s clean shaven, but sometimes he has a beard, and it’s light reddish-brown, with gray in the middle of his chin, and he’s bald. He’s one I hope I get to kill. I saw him drag my mother’s body through the dirt and into the barn.”

  Massey paused, thinking for a moment. “I’m not sure, but there might be two others we need to really watch out for. They both own land that adjoins the Pitts place, and they’re both smart and sneaky. One is a tall, skinny fellow with dark hair. Jon Nunneley is his name, and he’s been a troublemaker for years. He and Greg Reeves, a guy who looks like he wouldn’t hurt a flea, are a lot younger than Pitts and Dunn, but they’re dangerous men.

  “As for any others, I don’t’ know, but those four I’m pretty sure we’ll encounter. They’re best buddies and were suspects every time a crime was committed before the Collapse. I think they had a couple of deputies who turned a blind eye and maybe even helped them. If you see any uniforms on that farm, don’t be fooled. There won’t be any good guys hanging around with Sid Pitts.”

  Jeff pointed to the diagram. “Do the woods extend all the way around the clearing where the house is?”

  “No,” Massey answered. “To the south, it’s open. The trees make a semicircle on the west, north, and east sides, but Jeff, you’re on the east, and you need to stay north of the well house, so you aren’t shot by one of us. The gravel drive makes a big circle in front of the house and barn, then heads off to the southeast.”

  Jeff nodded, then looked at Stevie and Helen. “You ladies try to keep my position in mind, please. I’m going to try to sneak across and get behind the well house. It’ll make a good spot for me to get things rolling. I’m hoping I can move back into the trees and north a little after my first shots, but I might not be able to. We all need to stay aware and not shoot each other.”

  “Massey’s the one who’ll be in the most danger of getting shot by friendly fire,” Stevie insisted.

  Massey sighed. “Yes, but it’s my choice. I want to be in a position to kill as many of those murderers as I can. Besides, they always parked their trailers and tractor southeast of the barn, and if they’re still there, I’ll have cover.”

  Helen put a hand on Massey’s arm. “It takes a lot of courage to risk your life in an effort to make the world a better place. Let’s all be careful, and let’s move into position now, before the sky gets any lighter than it already is. Stay safe, my friends.”

  Jeff moved south, and the other three moved around to the west, where Stevie and Helen each found a tree for cover. Massey continued south until he was past the barn, then crawled through the high grass to a spot behind a big stock trailer.

  Jeff stared at the trailer until he saw Massey’s thumbs-up sign down near the ground. If he hadn’t been looking right at that spot, he would have missed it.

  Jeff darted at a crouch, moving out of the trees to behind the well house, and as soon as he was there, he fitted an arrow to his bow, and lit the oil-soaked rags wrapped around the business end. He moved like lightning, standing, then leaning around the corner of the little structure, and firing his flaming arrow through a window on the east side of the house.

  Massey popped out just a little from behind the trailer, and loosed his own arrow, which streaked across the yard with a tail of dark smoke and crashed through the picture window beside the front door.

  Everything seemed to happen at once. Yelling and screams sounded from inside the home, then both the front and the back doors opened at almost the same instant. Men came running out in various stages of undress, some struggling to pull on shirts or jeans, and others who held rifles, desperately scanning the area for targets. One man shoved his way out, clothes ablaze, and ran screaming into the barn.

  Stevie and Helen opened fire with their rifles, and when they did, all the men turned in their direction, giving Massey and Jeff a chance to pick off a few with arrows before the men realized what was happening. Massey noticed another man dashing toward the barn, and realized it was Sid Pitts. If he made it inside and was able to get into the loft, the women would be in grave danger.

  Pulling out an arrow he had prepared especially for Pitts, one with a new style of mechanical broadhead, Massey aimed at the vicious brute, and let his arrow fly. He was shooting for the heart, but his aim was too low. Pitts turned slightly to glance around, and the arrow caught him in the left side, the broadhead slicing through his guts and coming out through the right side, just above his hipbone. Pitts screamed, staring at the ends of the arrow sticking out on each side, twisting and bellowing before collapsing in agony on the gravel. He writhed and cursed, rising to his knees, then falling on his right side, causing the arrow to tear his injury even further.

  Stevie shot at two men who had run around the barn to the west side and were trying to hide in the chicken pen. One slug caught a stocky fellow in the chest. The other man whir
led around to stare at his companion, then ducked behind a double row of nesting boxes. Stevie could see part of the man’s head above the top of the boxes, and took careful aim, waiting. In moments, he leaned out to shoot wildly into the trees, and she hit him square in the forehead. He flew backwards, hitting the wall of the barn, then sliding to a sitting position in a thick layer of chicken poop; he never moved again.

  The house had become fully engulfed in flames, and the air in the clearing was thick with smoke. Massey had the fleeting thought that their plan was even better than he’d hoped, because his group all knew where their friends were, and they all knew to stay in place, except for Jeff’s possible movement back into the trees. Jeff hadn’t been able to make that move, but it was working out for the best that he had been forced to stay at the well house.

  Jeff used the bow to take down a dark-haired man whose long legs were bringing him straight toward the well house. The arrow pierced the man’s thigh, and he went down, but turned his handgun toward Jeff, who drew his Glock and fired two rapid shots. The man’s face was destroyed as the bullets struck his nose and the left side of his jaw, sending shards of bone into his brain. I bet that was that Jon fellow Massey mentioned, Jeff thought, as he eased to the other corner of the well house in time to notice that smoke was billowing out of the barn and a man was taking aim at Massey, who was busy taking aim at two other men.

  The fellow wore glasses and had brown hair buzzed short. Jeff knew Massey hadn’t seen him, and that the range was at the outer edge of the Glock’s capability, but at least Massey wasn’t in the line of fire. Jeff unloaded the Glock, hoping for at least one hit on the man. The guy went down hard, skidding face first across the gravel. Massey jerked around, saw him, and gave Jeff a grateful nod.

  A little further north than Stevie, Helen didn’t have as clear a field of fire as the others, but she was assigned to clean up any who got past Jeff and Stevie. Only one did, but Helen brought him down, turning and stepping out from behind a tree to catch him in the shoulder, then in the buttocks. He shrieked and spun as he fell, getting off one shot before he hit the ground.

  Feeling a sharp sting across her flank, Helen looked down, and saw that she was hit. She took cover again and yelled at Stevie. When the girl turned, Helen gestured toward the man, who was trying to rise. Stevie nodded, and put the man out of his misery. Helen sat down hard, pulling a neckerchief out of her pocket and pressing it against the wound. She winced, but held it tight to stop the flow of blood.

  The two women heard another shot from the south, then silence for several moments, and one more shot.

  Chapter Twenty

  January 12 - the Pitts farm

  Massey and Jeff stepped out into the open, knowing that anyone who had stayed in the house had already perished from the flames and smoke. They walked around, checking each body, and Massey delivered two coups de grâce, one to Sid Pitts and one to another thug who’d had the ill manners to still be alive. All the rest were dead.

  Jeff’s eyes grew large at the size of the hole where Massey’s arrow stuck out of Sid Pitts’s side. “You do that on purpose?”

  “What? Shoot him with a broadhead through his liver and guts?” Massey asked sarcastically.

  “Well, yeah. I know you wanted revenge, but man, that’s harsh.”

  “Actually, I was aiming for his heart, but I was low, and he turned a little just as I released the arrow. As for using that broadhead, yes, I did that on purpose. That thing cost me about forty-five dollars, and I wanted to make sure that of all these men, Sid Pitts wouldn’t walk away. With a hole that big almost anywhere on his body, he’d have bled out eventually. I didn’t want him to survive.”

  He and Jeff stopped in the center of the circle drive, and Jeff asked who the tall fellow had been.

  Massey stepped closer and turned the body over with his foot. His eyebrows shot up and he gave Jeff a look that showed he was impressed with the accuracy of the shooting.

  “That was Nunneley. Looks like you took the idea of vengeance seriously, too, Jeff.”

  Jeff nodded, and pointed to the man with the glasses he’d shot. “Who’s that one?”

  “That’s Greg Reeves. He’s one that could have turned out to be a decent human being, but he started running with Dunn and Pitts, and went bad fast.”

  Jeff stiffened and glanced around. “Where are Helen and Stevie?”

  Massey’s head jerked up, and both men started running toward the trees on the west side of the clearing. They found Stevie kneeling beside Helen, who sat on the ground with her back against a tree trunk. Blood covered her side, soaking the top part of her jeans. Her hands were red with it, and so were Stevie’s.

  Stevie answered their unspoken questions. “That guy out there,” she tilted her head toward a body nearby, “got off a shot and grazed her side. It isn’t too deep, but I can’t get it to stop bleeding. We need the pack with the first aid stuff, and we need to get her somewhere clean and warm so we can help her!”

  Massey was already moving toward the man and didn’t hear the second half of what Stevie said, He reached the man who had shot Helen, saw that he was dead, then picked up the gun he had used to shoot Helen. It was a .40 caliber. He shook his head, thinking if he had gotten off a better shot, Helen would be dead.

  Jeff had taken off at a run, headed to a tree on the north side of the clearing where they’d left their packs. He grabbed the one that belonged to Helen, and hurried back, dropping it and opening the big front pocket where he knew Helen kept her medical supplies. He found a packet of WoundSeal powder and sprinkled an ample amount on the wound. The bleeding stopped immediately, and he began to search for a large bandage.

  “I didn’t take time to read how much of that powder to use. I hope I did it right. Let me bandage it, and then we’ll see what we can do about getting her indoors. She sure lost a lot of blood.”

  Helen scowled. “Stop talking about me like I’m not here. You’re doing fine so far, but it might need stitches, and then I’m going to have to do what I insisted so many times that you do: rest and let it heal. This is going to delay our departure, I’m afraid.”

  She gritted her teeth and tried not to moan when Jeff pressed a thick gauze bandage against the graze, then began wrapping gauze around and around her waist. The wound hurt like the dickens, but she was determined to stay strong and not whine about it.

  “Okay. That ought to hold it. Now what?” Jeff pleaded. “Is there a way we can move her to your house, Massey?”

  “It’s almost two miles to my house. I can carry her, but not that far, and you don’t even need to try helping. I don’t know what’s best. I truly don’t.”

  Stevie stood and looked around, then used the back of her hand to give Jeff a light slap on the shoulder. “That tractor has a front-end loader. I wonder if there’s any fuel in it?”

  “Riding in that bucket would be too hard on her, Stevie. It’d bounce her around too much,” Jeff insisted.

  “Maybe not. There’s a round bale of hay behind that tractor. We could make her a nice cushion, and go really slow. It’ll make noise, and we’d probably have to go on the road, but it’s a possibility,” Stevie argued.

  Massey interrupted, “If there’s fuel, and if the key is in the tractor, and if it runs, we might be able to make it work. That’s an old Ford tractor and say whatever you want about Ford cars and trucks, they made some truly great tractors, especially the old ones. I just happen to know how to drive a tractor, and I think there might be some saddle blankets in the barn we can use for more padding. Pitts used to have a few horses. It’s worth checking out. If it’ll run, I’ll drive, and you two can walk alongside and watch for trouble.”

  Massey strode away, hoping and praying that the tractor idea would pan out. He quickly noted that the key was in it, so he tried to start the old Ford 8N. When it roared to life, Massey saw that the fuel gauge read almost half a tank. He gave a loud whoop and raised the bucket.

  That murdering SOB Pitts was
a major loser, but it seems like he did us one favor: keeping this old dawg in good shape. I think this is the 1951 or ’52 model, which makes it older than my parents. Wow! They sure built ‘em to last back then!

  He steered the antique machine to the middle of the yard and lowered the bucket to a height he thought would make it easy for Helen to get in, and Jeff joined him to find padding for the cold metal. Massey located two old saddle blankets in the storage shed, and Jeff used a pitchfork to get a thick layer of hay as a cushion in the bucket. Massey topped the hay with the blankets and climbed back up to move the tractor as close to Helen as they could get.

  All three of the younger people helped Helen get to her feet, then supported her as much as possible as she slowly shuffled to the bucket. She gasped with pain when she had to use the injured muscles to lie down, but felt better once she got settled. Jeff ran over and got the other two packs, then Massey edged forward very slowly, and with Jeff and Stevie acting as escorts, drove toward his family home.

  ~~~~

  It took well over an hour to get Helen back to the house, but Massey had decided that going at a snail’s pace so he could avoid ruts and potholes in the old dirt road would be much easier on his new friend. He was extra careful, knowing that a hard jolt might toss her out of the bucket or jostle her enough to start the bleeding again.

  He drove right up to the gate at the front of the house and turned the old Ford off. He hopped down just in time to hear Stevie cry out.

  “Helen? Helen! Guys! I think she passed out.”

  Jeff tilted his head to one side. “That’s probably a good thing. It means she didn’t feel much of that ride.”