The Quest: Countdown to Armageddon: Book 6 Page 11

  “Do you really think that would happen, given John’s popularity?”

  “Frank, it always happens. Nobody on this force wants to be known as an officer who won’t back up his brothers. Even when they do something incredibly stupid.

  “Take my word. Even as popular as John Castro is, none of my officers will cross the brotherhood. As soon as you remove that gag, the man who shot John will drop down to number two on their list of enemies. You, my friend, will become number one.”

  Martinez studied the anguished look on Frank’s face.

  “Mark my words, Frank. Now, then. Are you going to remove that gag and bring everything into the open?”

  “Not yet. I’m not desperate yet. But I’ll hang onto that card in case I need it.”

  Martinez handed Frank a folder across his expansive oak desk.

  “This may help.”

  “What is it?”

  “A new lead. It’s probably nothing. But then again, it may be something. One of our patrol cars was turned into vehicle maintenance because the driver’s seat was stuck all the way back. Wouldn’t slide forward.

  “The mechanic found a .556 casing wedged in the rail. That’s his statement.”

  “So?”

  “So, like I said, it’s probably nothing. But John Castro was shot with a .556 and you say a cop might have been involved. And finding brass in a patrol car is highly unusual. In fact, it’s strictly against department policy. Officers are only supposed to discharge their weapons at the firing range. And they’re not supposed to take any souvenirs with them when they leave.”

  Frank scratched his head.

  “Who was the car assigned to?”

  “Corporal Robbie Benton. Twelve years on the force, a good officer.”

  “Hmmm… that name’s not one of the ones on my list of possible grudge holders.”

  “I didn’t think he would be. I understand that he’s a good friend of John’s, and is close to the Castro family as well. So it’s probably a waste of your time. But since you’re treading water I thought I’d throw it your way anyway.”

  “Where’s the casing?”

  Martinez opened his top right desk drawer and took out a plastic zip-lock bag. Sealing the bag was heavy tape, bearing bright red letters:

  EVIDENCE

  He handed the bag to Frank.

  “I don’t know why I even bothered, actually. We no longer have a ballistics lab. No fingerprint experts either. We still take prints of everyone we book, but just throw the cards in a pile because nobody knows how to process them.”

  Frank smiled.

  “We don’t need no stinkin’ ballistics experts.”

  Martinez gave him a puzzled look.

  Frank explained.

  “I got my certification in bullet matching years ago. It’s still valid. Of course, I learned the old fashioned way. With a dual microscope. Before everything went computerized. I assume you’ve still got the old microscopes somewhere?”

  “Probably in the basement storage room, covered with an inch of dust.”

  “The nice thing about twentieth century technology is it was made to last. Blow the dust off of it and it’ll work just fine. Mind if I go down there and look?”

  “See Sergeant Wilcox for the key. He’s the property manager. He can probably tell you exactly where they’re at.”

  There was a knock on the door and Martinez’ secretary popped her head in.

  “Sorry to interrupt, chief, but I knew you’d want to hear this. We just got a call from the hospital. John Castro has come out of his coma and is talking.”

  Martinez’ demeanor changed immediately.

  “Well, hot damn! It’s about flippin’ time.”

  He reached into his desk drawer for his keys and stood up.

  “The microscope can wait a little longer, Frank. I’m going to St. Mary’s Hospital. Want to go along?”

  “Sure, why not? I’ve been looking forward to meeting the man everyone thinks is Superman.”

  -33-

  By the end of their first day out of San Antonio, Tom and Sara were roughly halfway to Castroville and the resolution to Sara’s burning question.

  They decided to bed down for the night at a rest stop on Highway 90. It had been abandoned since the blackout turned all highway traffic into dusty statues, but still offered some creature comforts.

  The men’s and women’s restrooms no longer worked, but were equipped with skylights which let in the rays of the sun and afforded an occasional traveler a place to clean up in private.

  And also, a dry place to duck into during a passing rainstorm.

  Tom and Sara loved the rain, and didn’t mind riding in it. They’d brought ponchos, and they did a pretty good job of keeping the pair dry.

  Sara’s horse, however, was just a little bit skittish every time she heard thunder in the distance.

  When lightning struck a mile away directly in front of the riders, Nellie almost bolted.

  Sara was able to calm her, but decided that riding any farther might be risky.

  “There’s a rest stop just ahead,” Tom had suggested. Let’s stop there for the night.”

  Another amenity the rest stop offered was several outdoor grills, each next to a large picnic table and under a wooden roof.

  The grills once allowed travelers who carried charcoal briquettes on their journeys to cook their steaks, or hot dogs, or burgers. It was essential on a lonely highway where the nearest gas station or restaurant was many miles away.

  Since the blackout, however, any travelers who happened by were on foot or on bicycle. Or, like Sara and Tom, on horseback.

  None of those methods of transport were conducive to the lugging of heavy charcoal, so in recent months visitors had gathered firewood from the nearby brush and started campfires in the grills.

  For generations, serious campers have lived by the camper’s creed. A key element of the creed is to always leave a campsite better then you found it. And always do what you could to help the next camper’s stay a little easier.

  Tom had grown up camping and living that creed, so he wasn’t surprised at all to find one of the grills already loaded with tinder and kindling, and several dry logs on the ground next to it.

  Dry wood was a very good thing, since the rainstorm had soaked all the other wood for miles.

  “God bless you, whoever you are,” he muttered as he pulled out his lighter and started the fire.

  They brought the horses under the overhang with them, and kept them calm until the rainstorm passed.

  Then they tied them to a mesquite tree in a field of tall grass, and unrolled their bed rolls next to the roaring fire.

  Sara pulled out a container of homemade beef stew that Scarlett had given them.

  Tom said, “I hope they didn’t go through all the trouble of slaughtering a cow just to pack our provisions.”

  “No. She said she made this by taking half a pound of beef jerky they’d saved from their last slaughter. She simmered the jerky in beef stock with the vegetables. She said it’s one of the best things she makes, and Rhett just rants and raves about it.”

  Indeed, it was the best stew Tom had eaten in a very long time.

  “Wow. This puts canned stew to shame. Did you take notes on how she did this?”

  “Yes, I did. And while I don’t think this is any better than Linda’s, I’ll make a point to make you a batch when we get back home again.”

  “That, young lady, is what I was hoping you’d say.”

  “Hey Tom, can I ask you something?”

  He looked up from his plate of stew.

  “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

  “The young girl back at the library. Millicent. I felt so bad for her. I wanted so much to help her. But when I looked at you, you were so quick to tell me no. I was just wondering why.”

  “Because I knew what you wanted. You wanted to grab her and hold her and never let go. I know because I felt the same way.

  “But you ha
ve to remember that we’re going on a mission into strange territory. We don’t know who we’re going to encounter. Some may not be friendly. We certainly don’t want to be lugging a young child into such a situation.

  “Besides, it’s not my place to tell you it’s okay to adopt a new member of the family, when I’m not the one who’d have to raise her. If all goes well, we’ll find your mom and bring her back with us. Whether or not she wants to collect anyone else for your family should be her decision, not yours and certainly not mine.”

  “Tom, I would never ask Mom to take in another mouth to feed. I agree that taking Millicent to Castroville would have been a bad idea. But I don’t need Mom’s help to raise her. Jordan and I are perfectly capable of doing that ourselves. And little Chris would love to have a big sister.

  “On our way back, after we find Mom and bring her back with us, I want to visit that library again. I want to see if I can find Millicent, and I want to ask her if she’d like to come to the compound with us and join our family. And if she says yes, I will consider her my daughter, and will raise her as such. No child should be left in the predicament she’s in, with no one to love and no adult to watch out for her.”

  Tom was touched.

  “Well, I’ll be. All this time I thought you were just a snotty-nosed whippersnapper. But somewhere along the line, when I wasn’t paying attention, you’ve turned into a very mature and very loving young woman.

  “Good for you. But I still have one more question. If you take young Millicent back with you and make her your daughter, that’ll make Jordan her father.

  “And as such, shouldn’t he have some say-so in your decision?”

  “Yes. And I plan to call him on the radio when we return to San Antonio to talk to him about it. And to have him talk to Scott and Linda to see if they have any objections. But trust me. Jordan will love the idea.”

  “How do you know?”

  She laughed.

  “Because he agreed long ago to let me be the boss of us. And because he loves me. That’s how I know.”

  -34-

  The first rays of sunlight the next morning brought with them a peaceful calm. The passing rain showers were miles away now, and the concrete deck beneath the overhang was almost dry. Birds were singing softly in the distance.

  It was the kind of morning when sleep would seduce Tom, like a long lost lover, and coax him into staying in bed just a little bit later than usual.

  But then he heard the unmistakable sound of a hammer being cocked, mere inches from his face.

  Hearing a hammer cocked in front of a man’s face tends to get his attention fairly quickly.

  Regardless of how much he wants to go on sleeping.

  Tom’s eyes were wide open in an instant.

  “Sit up slowly, stranger. Don’t make any sudden moves, or you won’t like what happens.”

  The words came from the tall man behind the pistol, crouched over Tom and aiming the weapon at his forehead.

  Tom did what he was told.

  “What’s this all about, Mister?”

  Then Tom’s eyes cleared enough to notice the badge on the man’s leather vest.

  It was made of dark brass, a five point Texas star, surrounded by a ring of the same color. Above the star was the word “TEXAS.”

  Below it was the word “RANGER.”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On who you are, and who the girl is.”

  The “girl,” by this time, was wide awake and sitting up a few feet away.

  And she was terrified.

  “Take it easy, Ranger. I’m Sheriff Tom Haskins from Kerr County. This is one of my deputies, Sara Harter.”

  “You got a badge to prove that, Sheriff?”

  “There in my boot, along with my wallet.”

  “Move slowly.”

  Tom produced a leather badge holder, and showed the man a gold shield that proclaimed

  SHERIFF

  Kerr County Texas

  The tall man relaxed, but only slightly.

  He turned to Sara.

  “Ma’am, are you in any danger?”

  “No, sir. He is who he says. He is helping me find my mother.”

  The Ranger moved the barrel of his weapon away from Tom’s face and released the hammer. Then he placed it back into his leather holster and said, “My apologies, Sheriff. I had to be careful until I found out who I was dealing with. Men in my profession who get careless wind up dead.”

  It wasn’t the first time in his life Tom had a gun pointed at him, and it wasn’t a feeling he liked. It took him a moment to regain his composure.

  Once he did, he extended his hand to the man in front of him.

  “I understand, Ranger. These days it pays to be extra cautious. I’m Tom.”

  “Randy Maloney.”

  “Randy, are you tracking somebody in particular? I hope you don’t greet everybody you meet at the end of your Colt.”

  This struck the Ranger as a bit funny, and he chuckled.

  “No, not at all. Usually I’m a bit friendlier. But you just happened to match the description of a man I’ve been after since Abilene a month ago.”

  “Really? What did he do?”

  “Stole a teenaged girl from her parents. Said he needed her more than they did. When they tried to stop him, he shot them both, right in front of her eyes. Then he lit out with the girl. His friends said he was headed for Castroville.”

  Sara gasped audibly and her hand went to her face.

  The tall ranger looked at her.

  “That’s where we’re going too.”

  “Castroville’s not a friendly place, ma’am. The police chief went bad. Let his cronies take over the town and run roughshod over it. For a long time now the good citizens have either stayed in their homes or have run away. The mayor made it to Austin and met with the Texas Rangers. That’s how we got involved.”

  Tom asked, “Are the Rangers going in to clean up the town?”

  The Ranger chuckled again.

  “Well, in a sense, yes. If you mean Ranger, as in one. As in me.”

  “You by yourself?”

  “Yes, sir. I was headed this way anyway, chasing the man with the girl. When I checked in at San Antonio they told me that since I was going to Castroville anyway, to see what I could do to relieve the citizens of their plight.”

  Sara said, “But you’re only one man.”

  “Yes, ma’am. But I’m a Texas Ranger.”

  -35-

  As Tom restarted the fire to boil some coffee, Sara studied the tall figure before her. He was handsome and rugged in the way of an old western cowboy.

  She couldn’t decide whether he looked more like the Marlboro man, or like the Matt Dillon character in an old western TV show.

  She was sure that with his chiseled face and rugged good looks he left a wake of heartbroken women behind him. She could easily imagine herself swooning over him, were it not that she was happily married to a good man of her own.

  She suddenly wondered how he got there.

  “Hey Ranger?”

  “Please. Call me Randy.”

  “Randy, how did you get here? Where’s your vehicle?”

  “My vehicle has four legs. His name is Tex.”

  He let out a loud whistle.

  “He’ll be along in a minute.”

  Tom asked the man, “What’s your plan once you get to Castroville, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “I don’t have one yet. Not really. I thought I’d pocket my badge and go in as a drifter, get a look at things. Find out what I’m up against. The man I’m after probably has friends and family there that may not cotton to me going in to arrest him. So it might be helpful to know ahead of time how many guns I’ll be facing.”

  “You’re welcome to join us if you want. May make you look like less of a lawman.”

  “Well thank you, Tom. I just might do that. If you’re sure you and the lady don’t mind.”

&
nbsp; Tom looked at Sara, who smiled.

  “The lady doesn’t mind at all.”

  A magnificent black and white appaloosa pony came trotting out of the brush. He went right to Randy and used his long nose to grab Randy’s hand and force it up to scratch his muzzle.

  “Sara, this is Tex. He likes to be scratched and rubbed.”

  “So I see. You have him trained to come when you whistle?”

  “Yes. He’s a free grazer. I trust him not to wander too far away from where I leave him. He appreciates not being tied up, and he knows not to mess with a good thing. So he always comes quickly when I call.”

  “Sounds like a smart horse.”

  “Yep. And faithful too. He’s been my best friend for ten years now. He and I have been through a lot together.”

  “How long have you been a Ranger?”

  “Four years. Going on five now, I guess. I was still a rookie when the blackout hit. Like everybody else, we took a big hit. But the brass made some key decisions early on that worked out for us.”

  “Such as?”

  “Most law enforcement agencies either gave up early on, saying they couldn’t do their job without vehicles. Or they tried to police using bicycles or tried to procure horses and teach their officers to ride.

  “The Rangers already had a stocked stable. Horseback policing was in our roots. So it was second nature to us. We deployed Rangers around the state, with instructions to check in by ham radio every few days for our assignments.”

  “So, you like living the life of a nomad?”

  “Yes. I love it. I’m like the cowboy of the old west. I sleep under the stars every night, ride the range every day.”

  “Must be hard on your social life.”

  “Social life? Haven’t had one of those in a long time.”

  “So tell me, Randy… what does a Texas Ranger do that the local police or sheriff can’t do?”

  “Well, since the blackout we’ve been mostly doing what the police or sheriff won’t do.