Next World Series (Vol. 4): Families First [Hard Roads]

by Ewing, Lance K.

  “Your mouth earned it is why. Now let’s see if your hands and riding skills will earn you the 11th-hour stay and possibly a new job.”

  “Fair enough, Sheriff, I can surely live with that.”

  Reaching the shop, they found Judge Lowry talking with the electric man.

  “Hello, Sheriff,” he called out from across the room.

  “Judge,” he replied, with neither man moving or reaching out a hand.

  “It looks like we have ourselves a little competition going on here,” continued Judge Lowry, “and my guy is known far and wide for getting things done.”

  “How fast did you say that thing will go?” asked the Sheriff. Even though they both knew, they had never discussed it.

  “I didn’t say, but I believe she will go a full five miles per hour.”

  “Six…she’ll go six when I’m done.” said the old man confidently.

  The Sheriff turned without another word and pulled Ken aside.

  “I want ten…no, make it twelve miles per hour on ours!”

  “Sir, that’s nearly impossible due to the...”

  “Nearly impossible?”

  “With the parts I have, yes, sir.”

  Sheriff Johnson motioned his old friend, the shop owner, to come over.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “This thing needs to go twelve miles per hour, and Ken here needs more parts to do it. Get him what he needs. You’ve got exactly 24 hours to do so.”

  The Sheriff got a call on his radio, or maybe he didn’t, but he left the two men to talk parts. He motioned to Ken to meet him outside when he was through.

  A full fifteen minutes later, Ken emerged from the shop with a relieved smile on his face. “He said he’s got a guy!”

  “Okay, we’ll see. The rest of the chair, your building, looks good but I’ll look at it closer later on. Let’s go have a talk with your girl,” said the Sheriff.

  “If she’s still in town, she should be at my house.”

  They walked slowly up the cement sidewalk towards a one-story ranch-style brick house with loud barking coming from inside.

  “It’s okay. It’s just my dog, Daizy. She’s a baby with a big bark.”

  The front door flung open, with the large dog bounding down the front stairs, nearly knocking Ken over and growling low towards the Sheriff.

  “He’s okay, girl. Go on back inside.”

  A young-looking woman in her early thirties stepped cautiously out of the house. Stopping short of the two men, she asked, “Are you back home now, Ken?”

  “Well, not exactly. It’s complicated is all,” replied Ken.

  “Ma’am, do you mind if we talk inside for a few minutes?” asked the Sheriff.

  “Sure, Sheriff. Let me just put our dog up.”

  They walked inside the house, lit by natural light today and with dozens of half-burned candles scattered across the main room.

  “How are you holding up, Honey?” asked Ken, giving her a hug.

  “Like everyone else, I guess. I’ve been able to trade a few things at the market. I hope you’re not mad.”

  “No, just do what you have to so you can eat. Are you safe? I mean at night?”

  “So far,” she replied. “I think most people around here are good and help each other out. The few not so good are just too scared to cause any trouble. No offense, Sheriff.”

  “None taken, ma’am. That’s kind of the point I’ve been trying to make. I’m glad to hear it’s been working. About that, your boyfriend here is working on earning his way back home. I won’t go into all the details now, but it’s important that I surround myself with people I can trust, no matter what. The key is, they need to earn it. Ken here is on a path to potentially earn that trust. Does that make sense?”

  “Kind of, sir, but I don’t understand why he can’t just come home and maybe work with you during the day.”

  “It’s okay, Honey,” Ken said. “I’ll try to get back to you as soon as I can. I’m going to be jumping soon.”

  “Jumping what?” she asked skeptically.

  “The courthouse.”

  “You’re kidding, right? That building is two stories high!”

  “I know… It will be fine,” Ken replied.

  “It’s kind of a sporting event we’re putting on for the citizens,” added the Sheriff. “I’m also looking for a gladiator, if you know of anyone. We have one already, but no opponent has stepped up.”

  “Yeah, okay, I’ll ask around. What about the prize for the winner? Is it big?” she asked.

  “Life changing, ma’am… We’ve got to get back,” he added. “It was good to meet you.”

  Ken was given a few minutes of privacy to talk with her.

  “Thank you,” said Ken as they walked back to the jailhouse. “I’ve been worried about her.”

  Now you have one more reason to make the jump and be added to my growing group of loyal followers, thought the Sheriff without speaking.

  * * * *

  As they headed back to the jailhouse, they heard tractors behind the courthouse and stopped to talk.

  Four large tractors moved dirt from a hillside a hundred yards behind the building.

  “Hey, guys,” the Sheriff called to the workers. “This is Ken, and he’s the one going to land his motorcycle on this dirt ramp—God willing, that is—so make it sturdy.”

  “Yes, sir,” they all said, with one asking, “When’s the jump?”

  “Well, we’ve got the bike,” the Sheriff answered, “so we just need this landing ramp done, and they’re starting construction on the front one, made of plywood, they tell me. The rest is all math, and I’ll let the architect figure that out.”

  “By the way, Sheriff,” said one. “Judge Lowry has been out here two days in a row now, asking what we are doing.”

  “What did you tell him?” asked the Sheriff.

  “Nothin’. We didn’t say nothin’. Just that we were ordered to pile up some dirt is all.”

  “That’s good, gentlemen. Let me handle him and don’t tell him or anyone else about what we’re doing here. I want it to be a surprise for my citizens,” the Sheriff continued.

  “Yes, sir,” they all answered.

  Walking back to the front, the launch ramp was taking shape, with the architect giving instructions to the carpenters.

  “How are we coming?” the Sheriff asked her.

  “Good, Sheriff. I’m still working on the exact slope and height dimensions, but we’ve begun the flat ground part, as you can see. The scaffolding is already in place for the vertical build. It’s made of plywood but will be reinforced all the way up. The math has to be just right for him to clear the building with enough speed, not to end up hitting the front of the building or landing on the roof. We’ll move the final ramp into place with the tractors at the very end, and I’ll know the correct speed once we’ve weighed the bike wet, along with the rider. The rest will be up to your jumper.”

  “How long?” asked the Sheriff.

  “A couple of days…three at the most. Once it’s done, it can be used more than once if needed.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. I do appreciate it. By the way, don’t discuss any of this with the Judge,” the Sheriff said.

  “Yes, sir. It’s not my business to do so, and for the record…or I should say off the record…he has been asking a lot of questions, and he appears frustrated with getting no answers.”

  “I’ll deal with him. Just keep the project moving, no matter what,” instructed the Sheriff.

  Once back at the jailhouse, Ken was excited that his chance at freedom could be only days away. He was both nervous and excited about the jump, as he imagined Evel was before each of his. He felt more comfortable seeing the ramp construction firsthand and believed he would have a level playing field. As long as the calculations were right, it would be in his hands to fail or succeed, and he liked those odds. Ken put himself back into his cell without being asked.

  This whole thing was coming togethe
r faster than the Sheriff had planned, and he had put the word out in town, looking for a gladiator to challenge Richard.

  He posted a $200 prize for the winner, payable in silver coins, but he had no takers as of yet.

  “Hey, big boy,” he said to Richard. “I’m having trouble finding someone who wants to fight you, even after offering a fair amount of money—for these days, at least. I may have to send you over the courthouse on your own bike if we can’t find anyone.”

  “Now wait a minute, Sheriff. I’ve never even ridden a bike, let alone jumped one. But I can fight, I know that.”

  “And you,” the Sheriff said, pointing to James’ shooter without answering Richard’s question. I’ll start working on yours tomorrow.”

  “My what?” he snapped back.

  “Why, your contribution, of course, to entertain the law-abiding citizens of my town. Life has gotten harder for us all, and although our town has fared better than most, I’m sure, we still need something to look forward to—something different and exciting.

  * * * *

  Sheriff Johnson took a drive to Second Chances Ranch to see James.

  He radioed ahead, and Jason had the main gate unlocked and swung open.

  James was on the front porch with a tall glass in front of him. “Iced tea, Sheriff?” he said, holding up his glass.

  “Sure, that sounds great. How’s the new boy working out?”

  “Oh, Billy? He’s doing just fine, sir. Fits right in with everyone here.”

  “It’s a good thing then, I guess, that I made you take him home.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it,” replied James, happy that Jason was inside and didn’t hear it.

  James didn’t mind, though, as most encounters with the Sheriff and Judge Lowry reminded him they were not friends, keeping him from saying anything that he may regret later.

  “Do you have news on the Topeka, Kansas, group?” asked James, expecting that was the reason for the visit.

  “My scouts are saying there’s a large group marching up I-25, only veering off course by a mile or two. We’ll keep a close eye on them, though.

  “No, James. The reason I came up here today…” The Sheriff paused as Janice handed him a glass of tea. “Thank you, ma’am,” he said, as she disappeared back inside.

  “Well,” he continued, “I’ve got a few men in my jail, as you know, and I told you before that I’m getting tired of the hangings. I’ve got one going to do a death-defying jump—if he’s lucky, that is—right over the courthouse on a motorcycle, Evel-Knievel style. The second guy is going to challenge another man to a gladiator-style challenge to the death, if we can only find him a worthy challenger. And the third, the one who did this to you,” pointing to James’ legs, “who made you half a man, needs to be dealt with accordingly.”

  “I can assure you that I am all man, 100%, whether I’m in this chair or not,” replied James.

  “Oh yes, of course. I just meant he needs to pay… I’m thinking of a firing squad,” he continued, getting close and lowering his voice, “with several of my deputies…and you, of course.”

  “Sheriff, I want no part of...”

  “Hold on. You haven’t heard the best part yet. Picture this. That man who took you down standing in front of a five-man firing squad, with you front and center. But hold on! It gets even better!” he said, feeling more excited saying it out loud. “I give the order to fire, and all of my guys have blanks in their rifles. Sure, they make noise but that’s it, and you get to blast that bastard with real bullets and send him straight to hell!”

  The Sheriff had a smile on his face, like he was talking about buying his first boat.

  “The best part is, you and I will be the only ones to know,” the Sheriff continued.

  He paused, maybe expecting a defeated James to relish in the idea of payback, but he got no such response.

  “That man, Sheriff, means nothing to me now, and unless he were to trespass on my ranch, I’d have no more to do with him.”

  “So, you don’t want a spot on the squad?”

  “No, Sheriff.”

  “I’ll be honest. I was not expecting that answer from you. Well, all right. I’ll figure something out. You have a good day, James, and I’ll see you back at work soon.”

  “Good day to you, sir,” James replied.

  * * * *

  “What was that about?” Janice asked as he drove away.

  “Nothing to worry about. Just an update on the people David was talking about. It looks like they’re heading right up the Interstate past us, just like we had hoped. Also, the Sheriff has some plans for his jail guests and wanted to know if I would like to be directly involved with the punishment of my shooter… Before you ask, I told him no, and that’s the end of it.”

  “I figured he had something up his sleeve when he went to all that trouble just to save him,” Janice replied.

  * * * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Weston, Colorado

  Sheriff Johnson gathered his deputies before heading home for the night.

  “Gentlemen, I need a firing squad for the shooter of our town mayor. Who will step up and volunteer for the squad?”

  To his surprise, no hands were raised.

  “Not one of you will volunteer for this?”

  They all stood, heads down, without response.

  He sighed, shaking his head. “Go home, men, and I’ll see you tomorrow, early for the church crowd.”

  * * * *

  The Sheriff went home confused, spilling his concerns to his girlfriend.

  “It’s pretty simple, as I see it,” she responded. “No man is willing to step up and do the right thing here. I know you would, but it would look like an execution to our citizens, and that just won’t work. The way I see it, you have two problems with the same solution.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “On the one hand, you’ve got a man who shot the mayor and needs to be punished. On the other, you’ve got that slob Richard, who needs an opponent you can’t find for the gladiator fight. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

  “Kind of, babe.”

  “Okay, let me tie it up for you. Richard’s opponent is James’ shooter.”

  She finished, raising her hands in an “any questions?” stance.

  “But what if he won’t fight. I mean, Richard is a big guy.”

  “So was Goliath,” she responded, “but David killed him with a sling and a stone. Plus, what choice does he have? Fight and have a chance to survive or lay down and certainly be defeated. Give them their choice of one old weapon. I’m not talking guns or bows here, but swords, spears, nunchucks, slingshots…you know, old-school weapons. It gives the smaller guy at least a chance to make the fight spectator-worthy.”

  “You, my girl, are a genius. You helped me solve my two biggest problems in five minutes. I can’t wait to hear your opinions on how to deal with Judge Lowry!”

  “I’m already working on that, don’t you worry. Now show me why you’re the only man to lead this town,” she said, pulling him into the back bedroom.

  Sheriff Johnson always called the shots, and he was proud of that, but he would admit that his girlfriend came up with some good points when he was stumped.

  * * * *

  He woke up early and spent a few minutes at the town library after feeding the prisoners. He was hoping to find a book on Roman gladiator-type weapons.

  He had made it a point from the very beginning to keep the library open and free to every citizen. A small number of proceeds collected for the town on trade days were funneled towards that project, and many others.

  All money and goods were distributed by the city council, and detailed hand records were to be kept by its most veteran member, for inspection anytime by the Sheriff, Judge, and town Mayor. He kept the aging librarian on staff, paying her mostly in food, and she kept the library open for business hours every day but Monday.

  He was surpri
sed at how many people were sitting around reading books by natural sunlight, most sitting close to a window, and several doors were propped wide open on this beautiful spring day.

  Without going into detail, he found the book he was looking for with the librarian’s help.

  Military History—The Definitive Visual Guide to the Objects of Warfare was the title.