Return to Blanco (Red Book 4) Read online

  “Anyway, by being in metal boxes underground he was able to save it all from being damaged.

  “We made a deal. My end of the deal is to give him twenty head of beef, one at a time, every three months, for him and his people to butcher.

  “And to keep my mouth shut about where his compound is.

  “And his end of the deal is to provide me with things few others in the county have. Like all the electrical doo-dads you see around you. He even had ten window-sized air conditioner units. That’s how come it’s so cool in here. All the quarters have them too, including the his and hers bunkhouses.

  “Air conditioning is a small thing that’s easy to take for granted, until you ain’t got it.

  “Then it becomes a major problem, until you can find a way to get it back.”

  They finished the walking tour and Bryant asked, “Say, Red. Can I talk to you alone for a minute?”

  Jacob said, “Sure. I’ll wait outside.”

  But before he left he looked to Red. They were becoming good partners now. Good partners can communicate without speaking.

  The pair locked eyes and Jacob raised an eyebrow. It meant, “Are you comfortable being alone with this man?”

  Red’s nod was ever so slight. Almost imperceptible. But it was unmistakable.

  Yes. She was okay being alone with Dennis Bryant. She didn’t know him well. But she knew him well enough.

  Jacob left the pair alone and stood on the expansive front porch of the main house, smoking a stale Marlboro and contemplating the future.

  Bryant asked, “Red, do you remember me at all?”

  “I do, actually, but my recollection is vague. When I was a small girl I remember getting in my daddy’s pickup with him. It was a green Chevy Silverado, but I’m not sure of the year. He’d hook up his old horse trailer and say, ‘Come on, Sunshine. We’re taking a ride.’

  “Of course, back then I had no concept of direction. And I wasn’t very proficient at reading road signs then either. I didn’t know if he was going north or south or to the moon. All I knew was that I worshipped the man, and just going on a trip with him was the greatest adventure ever.

  “I do remember a few things, though. The barn outside hasn’t changed at all, and I remember the white picket fence out in front of your house.

  “The biggest thing was your face, though. I recognized your face as soon as Tom Waits brought us to you.

  “Of course, it’s a little more wrinkled than it once was. But the smile is the same. I remember you once picked me up and asked if I wanted to dance, then spun me around. Of course, last week I couldn’t have identified the man in that particular memory to save my life. But seeing you again has made it even more vivid than ever before.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t remember it.”

  “Don’t feel bad. You were a grown man with a lifetime of other things to remember. I was a half-pint little girl with a limited number of experiences. Of course it was something I’m more likely to remember than you.”

  “Your dad came every year like clockwork, to pick out two steers from my stock. He always paid a fair price, and I never tried to gouge him. I think that’s why we were business partners for so long.”

  “I know. He told me the same thing.”

  “So how come you stopped coming with him?”

  “I’m not sure. I mean, he used to come in the springtime, so I guess I couldn’t come with him anymore once I started school. But it might have been because I got kicked that one time.”

  “You got kicked?”

  “Yes. I was probably five. Maybe six. We were taking the steers off the trailer and into their pen, and I got complacent, I guess. Dad let me pet them when they were in the trailer. I climbed up on the rails and leaned into it and scratched them behind their ears like I did my pony.

  “They seemed to like it and I thought I’d made friends with them. So much so that as Daddy was taking them into the pen, I got up real close to one.

  “I don’t know if I spooked him, or if he saw that he was headed toward the pen and was tired of being cooped up. All I know is he bucked and kicked me with a back hoof, and I went flying.

  “I was okay, but I think I scared the hell out of my daddy. I wailed like you wouldn’t believe, and I can still remember the look on his face. He thought the steer had killed me. But all I had were some bruised ribs. The doctor said I was lucky I didn’t break any, and it was probably because I was so small and light.

  “He said if I was bigger and heavier than I was, like a full grown man, my body would have offered more resistance to the kick and I’d have taken more of the blow. As light as I was, apparently it was no effort for the steer to just send me sailing.

  “That, I’m pretty sure, was the last time I made the trip here with Daddy.

  “Later on, when I grew a little, he taught me how to work cattle, as well as horses. Back then, though, I think he realized I was just too little to be around them. That there was just too much chance of me getting underfoot. I think he thought he killed me that day, and didn’t want to risk the same thing happening again.”

  “How’d your daddy die, honey?”

  “He was murdered, right after my husband and son. Russell and little Rusty died when our house exploded. They tried to say it was a gas explosion, but the house was all electric. It had no gas lines. I later found out it was dynamite.

  “Daddy died not long after. They said it was a heart attack, but it wasn’t. He was poisoned.”

  “Any idea who did it?”

  “Oh, yes. A greedy son of a bitch banker named Savage, who’s trying to grab as much land as possible so he can build his little empire while the world is on her knees. He paid a hit man, who I’ve already sent to hell. There’s a third man named Sloan who’s involved in some way. I still don’t know yet to what degree. But mark my words, they’re both gonna pay.”

  “Have you told the local law what you’ve told me?”

  “That’s just it. Savage is the local law. He had himself appointed police chief just so he could quash the investigation.”

  He pondered her words, then stood up.

  “Come with me, Red. I want to show you something.”

  -4-

  “Do you mind if I let Jacob in? I know he’s probably chomping at the bits to get back in where it’s cool.”

  Bryant had forgotten about the young man.

  “Sure. I just wanted you to be able to speak freely, in case discussing your father was a sore subject.”

  “Not a problem. Jacob knows all about Daddy’s death and my mission to exact justice on those responsible. He’s in with me all the way.”

  “Good.”

  They opened the front door and Red said, “You wanna come back in, partner?”

  Jacob snuffed out his cigarette and almost threw the butt into the front yard.

  Almost.

  But he thought better of it and shoved it into his back pocket.

  It didn’t go unnoticed by either Red or Bryant. It was a sign of respect. Just as it’s considered an affront to spit at the feet of a cowboy, it’s also disrespectful to litter his grounds.

  It earned him a smile, and perhaps some reciprocal respect, from their host.

  Bryant put a hand on the young man’s shoulder as he walked through the door and observed, “Red speaks very highly of you, Jacob. She says you’re a good partner. Come with me. I’m going to show you something that no one outside our compound has ever seen before.”

  The room he led them into was obviously used for more than one purpose. A neatly made bed had a full set of men’s pajamas folded neatly and resting on one corner.

  A few feet away was a roll-top desk with a ham radio on it.

  Adorning the walls were white boards and calendars. Lists of radio frequencies and food inventories and duty rosters.

  Anything and everything one would need to manage an operation as large as the Twisted Seven.

  One man sat in front of the radio making cryptic notes
of some type in a log book.

  Another stood in front of a whiteboard made into a map. The map, apparently of the ranch, was broken down into irregularly-shaped sections.

  Each section had a number, ranging from 70 to 174 written smack dab in the center of the section.

  The man was reading from notes on a clipboard and transferring the numbers onto the map.

  Both men turned and said good morning to Mr. Bryant, and looked surprised to see he had company.

  He wasn’t kidding when he said this was a part of the ranch’s operation outsiders didn’t normally see.

  This is a ham radio. You guys ever seen one?

  Jacob shook his head no. Red said, “Yes. But it wasn’t this fancy.”

  “We can communicate all over the world if we want to. We typically don’t, but we do monitor certain frequencies. We have a buddy in New Mexico who tells us when a storm front is headed this way so we can hunker down. In turn, we pass the information on to those east of us. We can also get the news about how other places are doing.

  “For example, I heard a fella this morning talking about the United States Army and how they got several helicopters working again. Word is they’re going to deliver medicines to the worst hit areas in the state. San Angelo, Galveston, El Paso.

  “But that’s not why I asked you in here.”

  Red was puzzled, but waited patiently for him to explain.

  Bryant looked at a frequency list above the desk and told his operator, “Frequency 105.45.”

  Without a word, the operator dialed it in.

  “This is the frequency monitored by the Texas Rangers in Austin,” Bryant said.

  “The Rangers are who you go to when the police department is corrupt.”

  “Pardon me for saying so, Mr. Bryant. But what are they gonna do? They won’t arrest him. Not with the criminal justice system permanently broken. They won’t accept the hit man’s confession, since he’s dead and can’t verify he said it. All they’ll do is conduct an investigation and conclude there’s not enough evidence to convict him, then drop the charges.

  “He’ll spend the rest of his life strutting around like the cock of the chicken yard, saying he’s untouchable.

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Bryant. But that’s just not acceptable.”

  “Then what are you gonna do, Red?”

  “I’m going to administer justice. And I’m gonna do it my way.”

  -5-

  A few miles north of the tiny hamlet of Blanco, on State Highway 281, two men by the names of Duncan and Gomez were setting up camp.

  They’d been hired by John Savage to park themselves north of town to shoot Red Poston on sight.

  Because he was scared to death of a woman half his size and half his age.

  Scared to death because although Red didn’t have his stature, didn’t have his experiences in life, she had one thing he didn’t have.

  An equalizer of sorts.

  She had a rage which burned within her.

  A rage which, Savage correctly assumed, could only be satisfied by his death.

  And that didn’t sit well with him, not at all.

  “She’ll be easy to spot,” Savage told the pair. “She’ll be riding alone, and likely be the only redheaded woman in ten counties. She’ll be atop a big Morgan. A brown one. She typically wears a bone-colored Stetson, and she’ll have a tongue sharper than a straight razor.”

  But Savage wasn’t as smart as he thought he was.

  He didn’t know that Red left her horse Bonnie with her best friend Lilly just before she set out for Lubbock.

  He didn’t know she’d paired up with Jacob on two different horses. Neither of which was a Morgan. And that she’d finally traded in her old Stetson on a new version. A brown one.

  Still, her red hair would likely give her away.

  Unless, of course, it was tucked under her hat.

  In addition, she and Jacob were night traveling. In all likelihood they’d pass quietly by the ambush site while their would-be attackers slept close by.

  Red and Jacob were still some days away.

  On this particular day, Duncan and Gomez sat quietly in the woods as they watched two men examining the back of an abandoned Walmart rig half a mile up the road.

  The rig was identical to the one where they’d set up camp. On the day of the blackout, they were likely driving in tandem, the rear trucker driving the same speed as the lead truck and keeping him just in sight.

  They’d claimed the closer truck as their own. It contained all the provisions they’d need to maintain them during their vigil, no matter how many days or weeks they were out there.

  They had only one pair of binoculars, and Gomez provided a play-by play for his partner.

  “They just broke the seal and beat the lock off. They’re getting ready to open the roll-up door.”

  Gomez watched as the two men took off their backpacks and scrambled aboard the rig, then spent several minutes rifling through it.

  He fully expected them to exit the trailer carrying a case of soup or canned pasta, which had become the new food staples for the nomads who now lived on the roads.

  Or maybe a case of Ramen noodles or spaghetti noodles. Either was light enough to carry, and easily prepared over a campfire.

  In all likelihood they’d also carry out a case of drinking water, which they’d likely divide equally between their two backpacks.

  Gomez was perplexed, though, when the two men hopped off the back of the trailer empty handed.

  The truck was fully loaded, with wrapped pallets of goods extending all the way to the trailer’s door.

  Surely such a heavily loaded truck had plenty to eat, plenty to drink.

  Yet they took nothing.

  Gomez wasn’t the smartest tool in the shed. It took him several seconds to figure out why the men would behave in such a manner.

  Once he figured it out, he just smiled.

  “They’re leaving the truck and headed this way,” he told Duncan. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”

  Duncan was even less of a thinker than Gomez. He might have been better at it, if he were called upon to do it more often. But he typically left all the planning to Gomez.

  He asked, “What do we do?”

  “Watch and learn, my friend. Just follow my lead.”

  Gomez arose and walked over to their own Walmart rig. The trailer door was already open, having been rolled up the day before. The goods on the back were exposed to the weather, but Gomez didn’t see that as a problem. They could always lower the door if a storm blew in, but leaving it open would make it easier for them to rummage through it for food or water several times a day.

  Gomez hopped onto the back of the open trailer and sat on the edge, his legs dangling down.

  Duncan followed suit.

  And they waited.

  -6-

  It took several minutes. The two strangers didn’t seem to be in a rush as they made their way from one Walmart truck to another.

  It was one of the new realities of the post-apocalyptic world. No one seemed to be in much of a hurry anymore. The hustle and bustle of everyday life before the lights went out was gone forever. Those city dwellers who were lucky enough to have survived tended to stay mostly to themselves, in their own neighborhoods, just killing time from one day to the next.

  Highway people- the modern day nomads who slept in the sleeper cabs of big rigs and who mined those rigs for their food, weren’t much different.

  Most of them followed the same routine. They walked along the highway until they found a rig they liked. Typically one with a sleeper cab free of bedbugs that was relatively clean and comfortable. One whose trailer was chock full of food and clothing and a pallet of water or two.

  And they’d stay there. Until they ran out of food, or developed wanderlust. Or until a hostile traveler chased them off.

  Then they’d simply move on down the highway to the next rig which met their requirements.

  But th
ey usually weren’t in much of a hurry.

  As the men approached Gomez’ truck they came from the north and could see only the big blue tractor.

  They had no idea there were two men sitting on the back of the trailer waiting for them.

  Gomez could hear the men talking as they drew close, and put a finger to his lips to warn Duncan to be quiet.

  The men walked around the back of the trailer and were somewhat surprised to see Gomez and Duncan smiling at them.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

  The taller of the two men spoke for both of them.

  “Um… good afternoon.”

  “You weren’t going to try to take anything from our trailer, were you?”

  “Um… no, sir. We’re just passing through, that’s all.”

  Gomez smiled the same smile as the Cheshire cat.

  “You men look thirsty. Would you like a bottle of water?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Then perhaps you’d like some food? We’ve got cans of chili to share.”

  “No, thank you, sir. That’s a generous offer, but we’re not really that hungry.”

  “Very well, then. Have yourself a good day and a safe journey.”

  “Thank you. And to you men as well.”

  The two travelers turned to walk away.

  Gomez calmly removed his gun from his holster, leveled it at the center of the tall man’s back, and fired two shots.

  Duncan, who’d been told to follow his partner’s lead, was caught off guard.

  He wasn’t sure what he expected to happen exactly. But he sure didn’t expect Gomez to shoot a stranger in the back for no apparent reason.

  He was so surprised, he didn’t even reach for his own weapon until Gomez fired the first shot.

  By the time he got his own gun out of his holster, Gomez had dispatched the second man with two additional shots.

  Duncan was dumbfounded and in a state of mild shock.

  Gomez jumped down from the back of the trailer and walked toward the men, in case one of them wasn’t happy with being shot and managed to produce his own weapon.