The Legacy Series (Book 2): The Ranch [A Legacy of Violence]

Home > Other > The Legacy Series (Book 2): The Ranch [A Legacy of Violence] > Page 26
The Legacy Series (Book 2): The Ranch [A Legacy of Violence] Page 26

by Liscom, Sean


  “I've seen Jason and Jill interact. They have found a way to make it work,” Megan said. Both of them turned to look toward the stairwell when they heard the upstairs bedroom door close. A moment later, Braden descended the stairs. He acknowledged Bill and his wife with a halfhearted wave. He made it all the way into the kitchen before he remembered that there wasn't any coffee.

  “They should be here before too long with some supplies. Then you can have some coffee,” Bill said.

  “They find a vehicle?” Braden asked, slouching into a chair at the table.

  “No. They are bringing it out on horseback. It won't be a lot but I'm being told that there are

  several cans of wake up juice.”

  “Thank God. What brings you by this morning, er, afternoon?”

  “I've got an update for you on your brother and Melissa.”

  “Oh?” Braden asked, sitting up in the chair.

  “Yep, I intercepted a radio call from the Sheriff of Duckwater. I found it when I was playing back the tapes from yesterday,” Bill explained. “It would seem that two individuals matching their descriptions were seen in town. They visited the trader and then left on horseback, headed north.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really. Here's the kicker. They gave their names as Jack and Irene. No last names,” Bill said with a smile.

  “That's gotta be them, Bill. I mean, that's mom and dad's names!”

  “The bad news is that the Sheriff was calling one of Ray's patrols. If it was Jason and Melissa, they have about a day's head start on Ray's men.”

  “Do we have anything that we can send south? Have the teams been located yet? We could send them that way.”

  “Teams 1 and 3 have been located and are holding up in Elko. They've got fuel but it's only enough for a one way trip. There is a decent chance that Jill and Dan will intercept them though.”

  “One and 3? Where's Team 2 hiding at? Jeff knew that he wasn't supposed to go very far....”

  “We don't know. The scouts found the place they were bivouacked, but the site has been abandoned for a couple of days,” Bill said.

  “What's bivouacked mean?” Megan asked.

  “Camped, it's where they were camped at,” Bill answered. She nodded her head.

  “Speaking of Elko, how are things down there?” Braden asked.

  “Mayor Calvert and Sheriff Watson have things well in hand. Ray's men are giving him no trouble. Even the enforcers have fallen in line. It's surreal to be sure. Jim hasn't even taken away their guns or anything, yet they are treating him like some supreme leader or something. I may know why too.”

  “Why?”

  “That's the other reason I'm here. You really need to meet with that guy, Torrance. I've been talking to him and he has been a wealth of information.”

  Monday, August 21st, 2017

  70 miles north of Duckwater.

  Jill and Dan had dismounted their horses and walked the last 100 feet to the ridge line. The closer they got to the top, the lower their crouch became. Not wanting to make their silhouette

  standout against the sky, they belly crawled the last few feet until the area below the ridge was visible. Jill had her binoculars out but didn't need to put them to her eyes. There was an old open pit mine sprawling out in the small valley below

  them. She could see that the road had been well traveled and on the far side of the pit was what looked like a fuel truck and a couple of small shacks. On the ground, in front of the shacks, eight bodies were laid out in a line.

  “What the hell?” she asked not expecting Dan to answer. “It looks like they were lined up and shot.....”

  “I don't see any movement down there. You want to check it out?” he asked.

  “We should. That's where the road ends that the Hummer was on. That had to be where they came from,” she replied. Both of them worked their way back to the horses and mounted up. They had their AR-15's across their laps as they dropped down and picked up the road headed into the mine.

  Jill pointed to the fresh tire tracks on the ground as they passed through the open gate. As they approached the fuel truck and the shacks, they held their weapons up with one hand and the reigns were in the other hand. Stopping just short, they dismounted and cautiously walked the rest of the way.

  The evidence that the eight men on the ground had been executed was overwhelming. Each had their hands bound behind their backs and all eight had a single gunshot wound to the back of the head. All eight were wearing the uniforms of Ray Judges’ army.

  Everything of use had been taken from the shacks and the fuel truck had been shot to hell. All of the tires were flat and the tank had more holes in it than they could count. There was a pool of antifreeze and engine oil mixing on the ground under the front of the rig.

  “I don't get it.....” Jill’s voice trailed off.

  “Don't get what?”

  “If I had to guess, I would say that this was a refueling point for Ray and his men. Why in the hell would they destroy it? There's no fuel on the ground. That tanker had to be empty before they shot it up..... Those men were executed at point blank range. What the fuck is going on here?”

  “I don't know, Jill. I haven't seen anything like this,” Dan remarked

  CHAPTER 26

  Monday, August 21st, 2017

  5 miles north of Duckwater.

  I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The Hummer turned off the road and was giving pursuit cross country! Nothing was slowing them down. I hunched over the front of the saddle and kicked the mare harder. I didn't think she had any more speed but she proved me wrong.

  The small mountain range ahead of me was getting steeper so I angled her more toward the south and headed for a wide ravine that would take us over the top. She stumbled once and I thought for sure that both of us were going to go down but she recovered without missing a beat.

  An instant later, I heard the sound of a bullet snapping through the air past me. Risking another look over my shoulder, I could see someone firing wildly out the passenger side window of the Hummer. They had gained to about a quarter mile behind me. As I raced toward the ridge, I knew we were going to have to slow down. Not knowing what was on top or the other side, I had no choice. More bullets sizzled past me.

  I reigned the mare in for the last 50 feet of the rocky hillside, guided her past several large boulders and we crested the ridge to find a wide

  open mesa. I urged her forward and again and she broke into a full gallop. I stood slightly in the stirrups to take some of the stress off of her back and knees. Doing this, she managed to gain a little more speed.

  The mesa was roughly a half mile across at its widest point and three or four miles in length. There wasn't much sagebrush, instead it was covered in cheat-grass. The tall grass was moving in waves across the windswept mesa. It was good because it allowed the horse to run flat out as fast as she could go, it was bad because our pursuers could do the same.

  When the Hummer finally cleared the rocky hillside and broke onto the mesa, I was almost halfway across. Again there were bullets cracking and sizzling through the air all around me. We were almost to the far edge when I got hit. The bullet hit me square between the shoulder blades. Almost the same exact place Marvin’s bullet had hit. There was nothing in the backpack that offered any protection. Even at this range, the impact nearly knocked me from the saddle.

  I slumped forward and grabbed onto the saddle horn with both hands in an attempt to keep from falling off of the speeding horse. The air had been forced from my lungs and I was gasping for air. Both of my arms were tingling and about half numb. I was worried that the mare would charge blindly over the edge of the mesa

  at full speed. There wasn't really anything I could do to stop her. The reigns had slipped from my hand and, while they were tied together, they had slipped too far up her neck for me to grab.

  As we neared the edge, she slowed slightly and altered course on her own. Struggling to look up, over her he
ad, I could see a fairly wide game trail leading over the edge. She slowed even more when we began our descent. It was steep, too steep for the Hummer. There still wasn't any cover until we reached the boulder strewn floor of the narrow canyon. Nothing but 18 inch high cheat-grass.

  Due to the angle of the canyon and its slight curvature to the south, we were out of sight before they reached the rim. I was bouncing almost uncontrollably in the saddle and nearly fell off twice before we reached the floor of the canyon. The mare suddenly did what's known as a “rodeo stop”. That's basically where she comes to a sliding stop. This time I did roll forward out of the saddle and hit the ground hard on my back. The mare side stepped trying to avoid me and she clipped the side of my head with her front hoof.

  Slightly dazed, I rolled to my side and could see why she stopped. There had been a recent rock slide that left boulders 10 feet high across the trail. It effectively cut off our escape. I was fumbling with the straps on my backpack, trying

  to loosen them so I could free myself from it when a blast of wind and sand hit me in the face. The wind blowing up the canyon was pretty stiff.

  I finally released the strap on my right shoulder and rolled onto my stomach, out of the pack. I tried to stand but my legs felt like rubber and I ended up on my knees, leaning against a large rock for support. After a few deep breaths, I tried standing again. I was shaky but upright. I moved back to my pack to grab my rifle but it was nowhere to be found.

  I risked a peek up the canyon and could see it lying on the trail about halfway up the side of the hill with a broken sling. That's when I saw the four men running down the trail. I was cornered.

  “Shit!” I muttered aloud. The mare just looked at me. “I know, I know. Should have never split up,” I said to her. She just looked at me with her big brown eyes. I drew my pistol and leaned around the rock. The nearest man was still out of range but maybe I could slow them down a little, I thought.

  I fired a full magazine in their general direction and watched all of them dive to the ground. The rounds weren't even coming close to hitting them but it was enough to give them pause. I reloaded the pistol with my half numb hands and re-holstered it. Leaning back against the rock, I started trying to come up with a plan.

  Again, I was assaulted by the wind and blowing

  dust.

  “C'mon asshole, this was your brilliant plan. Think!”

  I said to myself. I looked at the rock slide again, we weren't getting out that way. The only way out was back the way we came. More wind and dust. I peeked around the corner of the rock again and could see that the men were moving again. They were off of the trail and working their way along the canyon wall. The knee deep cheat-grass blowing in waves around them. A few more minutes and they would have the angle to pick me off with a well-placed shot.

  I looked back at my horse, nothing there to help me. My eyes went to the backpack on the ground and one of the road flares was hanging out of the hole caused by the bullet that hit me in the back. That's when the idea hit me right in the face like a cast iron pan.

  I grabbed the backpack and yanked it open. I pulled out one of the flares, pulled the safety cap off, flipped it around and lit it. The bright red flame was blinding even in the daylight. Through the pain that was coming from my back, I threw it as hard as I could. When it landed, the grass almost instantly burst into flames. Grabbing another flare, I repeated the process of lighting it and hurling it as far as I could back up the trail.

  The effect was almost instant. In less than thirty seconds the flames were racing away from

  me, growing exponentially and headed toward my enemy. I remembered one of my friends who was a wildland firefighter telling me that cheat-grass was like burning gasoline when it caught fire. It moved incredibly fast and could put off some very intense flames and heat. Add in some wind for good measure and it could easily outrun a man on foot.

  Within a minute I could hear the screams of terror over the roar of the flames. The wind in the canyon intensified as the raging fire began to draw in as much air as it could get. All of the smoke was being pulled away from me but it was still making my horse uneasy. I grabbed her reigns and pulled her head close to me to calm her down.

  It only took about three minutes for the flame front to burst out of the canyon and begin to race across the top of the mesa. From my position, I could see the thick black smoke rising up from about where they left the Hummer. I could also see the four burning mounds that were once human beings.

  I let myself slide down the rock that had been supporting me. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and came away with a large blood smear of the sleeve of my shirt. The stinging from my scalp was instant. What I thought had been

  sweat running down the side of my face was blood. When the horse clipped the side of my

  head, she had left a laceration about two inches long. It was really superficial but face and head wounds had a tendency to bleed a lot.

  My horse and I wouldn't be leaving the canyon for a little while so I just leaned against the rock, drank water and tried to get the bleeding to completely stop. After washing out the wound, I held pressure against it and just waited. That's when I discovered that the water bladder the trader had given me had ruptured and was totally useless now. As the flames continued to race away from us, my mare continued to calm down.

  Monday, August 21st, 2017

  The ranch.

  “Alright, Torrance. From what Bill told me, you have a lot of information that you’d like to get off your chest. Start talking,” Braden said from behind the security office desk. Torrance sat across from him, still in his boxer shorts, sipping from a bottle of water.

  “You guys are making a mistake by keeping the enforcers alive,” he started. “The one that’s in the barn with the rest of us, they call him Grinder, he’s got everyone in there terrified.”

  “Why?”

  “Mr. Sterling, he’s probably the worst of the bunch. He never has liked any of us that were

  forced to be here. He’s killed several guys over the last month just because he thought they were weak. I don't just mean killed, he tortured those poor bastards to death.”

  “You think I should have him taken out of the barn?”

  “You should just take him out,” Torrance said flatly.

  “You mean….”

  “I mean kill the son-of-a-bitch.”

  “That kinda goes against the grain of what we do around here, Torrance. We don’t summarily execute people.

  “You might start when I tell you what he was in prison for.”

  “He was in prison?” Braden asked.

  “All of the enforcers, most of Ray’s regulars, they were all in prison. He let them out and they took a blood oath to always remain loyal to him. Any man that has a scar across the palm of his right hand is one of Ray’s men,” Torrance held up both of his hands so that Braden could see his palms. His hands were dirty but lacked a scar.

  “What about the enforcers in Elko?”

  “Pete. He’s the worst of that bunch. He and Grinder work together a lot…..”

  “Pete’s dead. What about the other three?” quiet alarms were going off in the back of

  Braden’s mind.

  “Don’t turn your back on them. They will

  have no problem sticking a knife in it,” he said. Braden crossed his arms and leaned back in the office chair. Those quiet alarms were full blown klaxons now.

  He stared at Torrance for nearly a full minute before he grabbed his FRS radio from its pouch on his belt. He checked the frequency and put it to his mouth.

  “Bill, could you come to the security office?”

  “Be there in a second,” Bill replied instantly. By the time Braden had replaced the radio in its pouch, Bill Butler was coming through the door.

  “There a problem?” he asked. Braden ignored the question and directed his attention back to Torrance.

  “I want you to tell Bill what you just told me,” he instructed
. Torrance repeated the conversation to Bill and Braden could see a subtle shift in Bills demeanor. He could almost feel the chill in the room that matched the ice in Bills eyes and voice.

  “Braden, get on the radio and call Sheriff Watson. Now,” Bill said, never taking his eyes off Torrance.

  “Bill, we’re under radio silence….”

  “Do it NOW!” he growled. “Tell the Sheriff to round those three men up and bring them out

  here, immediately,” Braden did as he was told and picked up the radio mic. Within a minute, he

  had Sheriff Watson on the radio and he relayed Bills order to have the three enforcers arrested and brought to the ranch.

  “Tell me, Torrance, tell me why these men were in prison and tell me about some of the things that you’ve personally seen them do,” Bill picked up the conversation again. Torrance shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

  “Well, I don’t know the details of why they were in prison. I’ve heard that they were the worst of the worst. Murder, assault, kidnapping and things like that. I’ve personally seen them kill people….”

  “You didn’t intervene?” Bill asked calmly.

  “No. If we tried to stop them, they would’ve killed us too. I’ve seen them do that before too.”

  “So you and the other conscripts are nothing more than a bunch of cowards?” Bill snarled.

  “Jesus, Bill!” Braden said quietly.

  “We wanted to stop them! We just didn’t have the numbers to take them all on! There were too many of them!” Torrance said, his voice trembling.

  “And now?”

  “We want to help, we want to fight back!”

  “Why? Why now? All of a sudden you’ve found your balls and now you want to fight

  back?” Bill asked, sitting on the corner of the desk. Torrance cast his eyes to the floor. When he

  looked back up at Bill, he looked to be on the verge of tears.

  “We want to help because we found out that they were going to kill us anyway. It doesn’t matter what side we fight for now. The only thing left for most of us is death. Might as well go out on the right side of things,” his voice was cracking.

 

‹ Prev