Had the good Lord brought him to her? What made him help Gene and Mattie, two strangers? They could have been a married couple of serial killers. He chuckled to himself. It must have been the fact he always tried to respect his elders and seeing the two reminded him in some ways of his loved ones. Looking down at his boots, Nate recalled the last time he saw both of them. It was just three weeks ago. He took time off from the ranch he helped run with his cousin. It was good honest work, nothing he didn’t already know how to do. His father had 100,000 acres at one time, and much of his family worked on the ranch. His cousin bought out most of it, allowing Nate’s parents to finally retire. Nate had a small cabin on the ranch. It was home for now.
Nate didn’t take long to eat. It was very filling. He quickly cleaned up everything and put out the fire. Taking extra time to be certain it was out, he kicked more dirt on top of the small pit. He tucked and strapped everything to his frame preparing to leave. Nate tossed the pack up and slipped it on. The frame fits well against his back, and he strapped it in place. Nate slung his rifle over his shoulders. He wasn’t too concerned any longer about typical gun laws. Nate figured most law enforcement had their hands tied to worry about someone walking with a rifle over his shoulder. He headed up the hill and over to the road that should be Hwy 34.
Now on an actual road, Nate took off at a good pace. His long legs afforded the fast time. As he walked, he wondered about his friends, and how they were all doing. In the back of his mind, he knew they would be fine. They all were former Rangers like himself. He felt sorry for any jack-wagons that crossed them with intentions of harm.
“SNAP” would be the only sound people would hear after they got done with them. One of them went on to become a US Secret Service agent; the other ran his private security company out in Hollywood for the rich and shameless. Oh, the stories they told. Both had tried numerous times to recruit Nate. It was tempting. Something coming broke his attention from his thoughts.
He couldn’t make it out yet. Someone or something was coming up the road. He stopped and hunkered down for a second, then slowly moved off the side of the road. He located some bushes and retreated behind them. He continued to watch as the object drew closer. Now he could clearly see. He laughed to himself. It was a small golf cart coming up the road, with maybe two adults. He couldn’t see any weapons. He didn’t feel any threat but waited for it to pass. Slowly, the newer looking cart went by. The young couple on it could be heard talking about getting home. He waited until they went over the hill behind him before getting back on the road.
Nate realized just then if he reacted this way the whole trip he would never get home. From here on, he would just have to keep moving. He knew how to take care of himself and would against anyone. He wasn’t breaking any laws, not even carrying a level action rifle. With this in mind, he set forth with more of a gait, trying to make up for the lost time.
Hours had gone by without seeing anyone. This part of Wyoming was pretty lonely. He wondered where in the hell the two on the golf cart came from. He was approaching a small community called Bosler. It was basically a T in the road. He needed to keep moving south on 287, going towards Laramie. He continued on down 287, seeing some traffic driving on the other side of the road. Most didn’t pay him attention. Then, from a distance, he started to see many semis parked. Randomly in the middle of the roads much like it was on the Interstates. Cars also here and there abandoned. There was a train track off to the right of the road. He didn’t see any trains. He walked for about another 2 hours then heard the distinct sound of something large and loud coming from behind him. It was a slow moving train.
Nate was many things, but he wasn’t stupid. In a normal time, he would have never considered jumping on a moving train. But, this wasn’t his first time doing this. Overseas, he and a group of soldiers did just that to infiltrate an enemy encampment. This train was moving much slower. The locomotive headed in the direction Nate needed to go. The train would take so many miles off his journey. He waited for the two engines. After that, he moved slowly off the shoulder of the road and waited a little longer, trying to spy the perfect time and car to hop. One car was a flat type meant for hauling wood. It wasn't loaded. It was going to be his best option. He would be exposed but didn’t care. Time-saving was the main goal.
When the engine was out of sight, he took off in a fast run with his pack off, holding it in his hand. His rifle was still slung over. He had to time it just right; the train was slow but still dangerous. He made it up to the flat car and tossed his pack up and then reached for the rail nearly at the same time. With his large hands, he gripped hard and jumped onto the rung of the small steel ladder. Now onboard, he climbed and walked to his pack. He sat down for a moment to rest. Riding the train was going to be very nice. There was a large metal divider on the car, probably meant to stack the wood. He positioned himself on the opposite side of the divider, not in view of the road. It provided good shelter to hide. He would take this ride as long as he could. He opened his map and saw Laramie was the next town. This train was moving very slowly. It didn’t sound hefty. He wondered if the crew was just trying to conserve fuel. Trains could travel for hundreds and hundreds of miles on very little fuel. He hoped for their sake they made it where ever they were going because right now, he was with them.
It wasn’t long before the train was arriving into Laramie. People were everywhere. They looked stunned to see the train. The gas stations he saw looked closed down, many stores were burnt out, and trash was everywhere. Nate was glad he decided to jump the train. The speed of the train didn’t appear to slow down, as a matter of fact, he was certain it was speeding up. He stood and tried to look over the side of the edge. He couldn’t see anything but then nearly fell off as the train briefly changed in speed again jerking forward. He went back to his pack and sat down. His gut was telling him something was happening. It wasn’t normal for trains to pick up speed coming into a town. Then he heard a loud crash, followed by a jolt. After a few moments, Nate could see houses and buildings as the train speeded through town. It was strange that he didn’t see any police anywhere. Maybe they went home also. That was a very scary thought. Then he saw what he heard moments earlier. Several residents had tried to stop the train. Maybe they thought of it loaded with goods, food, water or even fuel. They had parked several school buses and even a small Polaris tractor on the tracks. None of it was a match for a train with two engines and about 80 cars. He headed further than he thought he could walk in one day. So far so good, he thought to himself. He would need to consider sleeping on the train if it kept going.
Chapter 6
Thin Blue Line
The constant thud, thud, beating of the tracks under him made him sleepy. He looked at his compass and the position of the sun. He stood and could see the train turning off towards the east now. For almost two hours he was headed straight south in the direction he needed to go. He had looked over his map earlier and knew he had to be getting close to the Colorado border. He enjoyed the train ride. It did save him some time, but now it was time to get off. It was getting late in the day, and he really wanted to be in Colorado by nightfall. Nate loved Colorado. He and his family spent many vacations in the Rocky Mountain National Parks. The area he was in now was beautiful with rolling hills and pasture lands sculpted with some mountains off in the distance. The terrain was going to get harder along with the elevation. Staying on the interstate through Colorado was easiest, but also the most dangerous. The mass of people would be there as well, trying to find food and water. It was time to move. He could see a county road crossing ahead; it looked like it was going west. He would try to get off on the road.
Getting off a moving train was easier than getting on one, but you still had to be careful. He grabbed up his pack and rifle. Nate walked to the steel ladder and climbed down and stopped at the last rung. He looked ahead and could see soft dirt with some bushes and aimed for that as a landing. He kept his rifle on his shoulder slung back and
gently tossed his pack off. It made a thud as it hit the ground and rolled gently. He stepped off and sprinted keeping his feet from going under and let go. The train was actually slowing down for the long turn it was taking now, and this helped him a great deal maneuver himself off the side and come to a stop. He turned to see his bag about 50 yards behind. He adjusted his belt and rifle and clicked his boots together to remove a few of the white chalking rocks that the railroads often used around the tracks.
“Thanks, guys I appreciate that ride,” he said out loud. “More than you will ever know” laughing because they had no idea he was aboard.
Nate walked the few hundred yards to the road that looked like an old country road. The slope of the train track side path was hard to walk along, but it wasn’t too much further until the railroad crossing. An older truck crossed the tracks going fast and bottomed out. Nate could hear the truck speeding fast down the dirt road. Then he could hear the distinct whine of another car coming, and it flew over the tracks. A county sheriff deputy was chasing after the truck. Nate always said he could tell a cop car sound from the civilian cars, mostly due to the superchargers they had equipped, but many newer cars had them as well. Not that old truck. By the time he reached the crossing, he could not see nor hear anything else. The pace the chase was going put them way down the road and out of sight. Unfortunately, they were going in the same direction he was now headed. The area Nate was now walking in was mostly what he referred to as a scrubby country. Rocks, dirt, and a lot of scrub brush. There was not a lot to look at. He just needed to keep walking. The map put him on a small road that took him to hwy 287. At that road, he would head south less than ten miles to the Colorado border. He was just one State away, with some distance through the panhandle of Oklahoma, then the rest of his home state of Texas. As a bird flies roughly 440 miles to get home, Nate thought.
He quickly made it to the highway that ran to the border and picked up his pace. As he approached the crest of a hill he could see the deputy car, lights on and the door open. He didn’t see anyone, though. He kept slowly walking until he could now see the pickup truck the officer had been chasing. Its door was open but still, he didn’t see anyone in either vehicle. Then the sounds could be heard. Nate now heard the sound of a rifle and the smaller sounds of a pistol cracking off. The rifle sounded like that of a large caliber. Then he could see the deputy; he was pinned down on the opposite side of his car. He was aiming for the small hill to the right. Nate dropped down and took off for the small ditch on his right. He stopped long enough to gain a visual on the gunfight that was maybe a half mile from him. The sheriff was not in a winning position because the high ground was for the bad guy. So far, it seemed he could only hear shots from two guns.
“Damn. It’s always something. Guess there is no backup coming.” Nate spoke to himself. He had a habit of doing this. It kept him sane at times.
The officer appeared to be shooting slower. This meant a few things to Nate. Number one, he was trying to hit the bad guy, and number two, he was running out of ammo, probably a sad case of both. He couldn’t just couldn’t sit and watch. He knew he had to act. He removed his pack and then dug out his AR 15, along with a few mags. That and his 45-70 should be enough. The shooter on the hill was fairly accurate, but so far the sheriff didn’t look injured. He left his pack and took off in a fast jog down the ravine that leads to the sheriff’s patrol unit. He had to be careful not to get shot himself. How he approached would mean everything. He would likely have to get the drop on the sheriff to stop him from shooting him.
As he got closer, he could clearly see the sheriff’s back and thankfully he was wearing a vest. He looked to be an older man, close to retirement, Nate thought. He turned around to sit after emptying his semiautomatic at the guy on the hill. From where Nate lay he couldn’t see the hill ridge so that meant he couldn’t see either. Nate had to think fast but then realized the deputy was out of bullets and he frantically looked around his belt pulling up empty mags. This was the best time to act.
Nate jumped up and ran full force towards the deputy who was shocked, to say the least. His hands came up to protect himself right as Nate stopped and sat beside him.
“I’m here to help, lower your hands. My name is Nate Michaels; former US Army Ranger” The officer dropped his hands to see in Nate’s an ID from the military showing a slightly younger Nate and his credentials.
“Where the hell did you come from?” Nate smiled at the deputies questions.
“That’s an answer you will need to wait for Sir; you need help right now. Let me help you.”
The officer looked Nate over. Nate saw him staring at the AR in Nate’s hand. Nate saw his eyes gazing at the scope.
“Ok, you take the AR, but I want my gun back after this, OK?” Nate asked. The officer nodded.
“If you want to get this piece of shit, I have an idea,” Nate asked.
“I want to get home tonight. This bastard stole all my food and water for my family.”
“What are you going to do? My lord, what caliber is that lever action?” Nate told him quickly. The deputy’s eyes widened.
“Can I borrow that instead? You are the military guy; you would be better with the AR.”
“Ok, remember it has six rounds, that’s it” Nate reminded the sheriff. The sheriff smiled.
“I only need one.” Nate smiled and explained the plan to him.
The plan was simple, draw out the shooter and let the Sheriff handle the rest. In reality, Nate could have taken the guy out himself even without ever going to the sheriff. But this was a land of laws or at least t was before now. Before Nate could turn away to move into action, the deputy stopped him.
“Just one more thing, in case this goes haywire. My name is Wyatt Purdon. Thank you for doing this, and now raise your right hand. I need to deputize you.” Nate did as requested and took the oath. Right there in a ditch, he was now a sheriff’s deputy for the county.
Nate took off down the ditch not giving much thought to being just sworn a deputy. Instead, he tried to gain a view of the shooters exact position. The best way to do this was to fire off a shot in his direction and wait. Nate found a good spot behind a huge boulder and took slow aim. He could see movement about two hundred yards out. The hill was a slow sloping one with a crest of brush at the top. Nate studied the ground and could make out the displaced rocks and track marks of the guy who ran up the hill. Solid patches of wide areas could be made out from a frantic dash to make it up the top.
Now Nate knew almost exactly where he was and waited. He did not need to wait long before he saw the long barrel of what may have been a 30-06. The sheriff was lucky this guy was a poor shot so far. He was also lucky his cruiser had so far taken the power rounds of the gun. Nate had to be careful, it only took one lucky shot, and this guy would be bragging forever how he took out a Ranger.
His moment came now; he aimed his less powerful but deadly AR-15 and fired a quick three round burst that scared the living shit out of the shooter. He jumped up, standing nearly straight up in clear view, and brought his rifle in the direction of Nate.
Nate thought for a moment as he watched the actions of the shooter. He obviously wasn’t ever in the military. No one with half a brain would stand bolt right up after being shot at with a rifle. The best he could figure was he was in shock, only expecting the smaller pings from the sheriff's 9mm to fall around him. The sudden explosion of earth and rocks all around him like Thor slamming his hammer into the ridge line must have created some dark matter in his shorts.
“You son of a bitch, I’m gonna make you pay for that” Nate could hear the man screaming out the threat.
The boom was loud. The sound came from the Sheriff using Nate’s 45-70. It wasn’t like a 30-06 or an AR-15. It was damn closer to that of a small cannon firing. When Nate heard the nearby sound birds took to the skies in fear. It shook the ground Nate was on, and he couldn’t imagine what the shooter must have thought when he heard the sound and then felt
the massive bullet.
Nate looked up to see the shooter still standing to begin a slow fall over the cliff and slide mostly down the hill he was on. Nate took off for the shooter. He had his weapon drawn and approached slowly. He was dead. One massive hole was in his chest and blown out the back. The sheriff made his way to the scene. He wasn’t smiling. He just looked relieved.
“Nate, it’s a terrible thing to have to kill a man. This man, however, took three people yesterday, then when he stole my food and water I find out he was the one we were already looking for,” he told Nate. Nate stepped back and over to the Sheriff.
“It seems to me you didn’t have much of choice, this sorry sack made a choice for you.” Nate offered.
The deputy stared down at the lifeless body.
“Of course, I know you’re right, but still.” he replied.
“Sir, I have been there numerous times. Overseas, it was never easy, but our actions saved the lives of others.”
Trekking Home Page 4