It had everything from armor and shields to swords, pistols, cannons, and even biplanes.
He checked out the book like any other citizen, writing his name on the card and master list she had at the desk.
“Please sign right here, Sheriff,” she said, pointing to the bottom of the card, “and have it returned in no more than one week…unless, of course, you are going to check it out again. The late fees can sneak up on you if you don’t.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, smiling to himself as he walked out. Be careful of the late fees, he thought. I could use more people like her as deputies! He was still annoyed that he had no takers for the firing squad.
He propped his feet up on the desk in his jailhouse and read only the captions under drawings he thought might look like a possibility.
“What’s that thing called that has a spikey metal ball on the end of a chain?” he called out to his captives.
“It’s called a flail, sir,” came the response from Ken. “It can have one, two, or even three balls attached to the chain.”
“Flail,” he mumbled, flipping through the pages. He marked the page, along with the pugio, that short dagger a king may use; the short throwing spear called a lancea; and of course a sword and shield.
This is going to take forever to make, he thought, remembering hearing about a small group in town that would do war reenactments at the Town Square on occasion.
* * * *
The Sheriff’s men were in position for the incoming church crowd that had grown each week since the day it all happened.
He would attend for the first time in a number of years—today if only to show his face amongst his citizens. He thought Judge Lowry might be doing the same, and he was right.
There was still only one service at 10 a.m., and it was standing room only today.
The Sheriff dressed for the service the same as always but did shine his boots this morning. His girlfriend wore a light-yellow spring dress that reminded him of how pretty she was on the outside. They worked the room before and after church, like a politician and his wife may do at a charity event.
Judge Lowry was doing the same, his girlfriend pointed out. “He couldn’t decide if he should bring his girlfriend or boyfriend along this morning,” she joked, but only to her man.
The Sheriff smiled with a who-knows hand gesture and shook more hands. “They’re going to love next Saturday,” he whispered to her.
“What’s next Saturday?” she asked, having an idea.
“It’s the exhibition. We will start at 4:15, after the close of trading, with the motorcycle jump followed immediately by the gladiator contest right next door in the rodeo arena. We already have fencing and bleachers for the spectators.”
Without asking, he took the stage following the service to make the announcement. Nearly two hundred people quieted to listen, including one glaring Judge in the back.
“Can I have your attention, please?” he shouted. “Please, everyone. I have an announcement. Some of you have already seen the construction near the courthouse over the past few days. You will see some work being done on the rodeo arena in the coming week.
“By now, most of you have heard about what happened to your mayor.” Most heads nodded, with more than a few commenting about it being a shame.
“Our deputy mayor will be filling in until Mr. VanFleet is able to return to his post. I’m sure that will be soon, but in the meantime I am putting together a tribute to him in the form of a spectacular death-defying show of sport for everyone here. We will all meet at the courthouse at exactly 4:15 this coming Saturday, with trading ceasing at 4. Our first event will be an Evel-Knievel-style death-defying motorcycle jump right over the courthouse.”
He smiled towards the Judge with this statement and was met with cold eyes and no expression.
“Immediately following the jump, we will walk right across to the arena for an exhibition of strength, sure to inspire us all. We should be done by 5:30 and, as always, my deputies will guard your roads home for the evening.”
Jason, Janice and Lauren, all in attendance, didn’t speak up when the floor was opened for questions, although none liked the Sheriff using James as the reason for the display.
“How much is it?” asked one man.
“Completely free,” the Sheriff responded.
“Are the kids allowed?”
“Absolutely. This is for everyone, but we will have the school open from 4-6 that day if you would rather drop them off.”
With no more questions, he just caught a glimpse of Judge Lowry slipping out the back.
* * * *
The good Judge paced back and forth in the empty courthouse, wondering how it came to this so quickly. His front-office assistant caught him off guard, shuffling some papers at her desk.
“Who’s there?” he called out, trying to deepen his voice and not sound as scared as he was.
“Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just me,” his front-office woman replied. “I just ducked in for a minute after church to tidy up before the workday tomorrow. In case we get some visitors.”
He confided in this woman, who wasn’t much of a talker but not a bad listener.
“Only a week or two ago, I was the decision-maker over most things in town, and certainly those who had done wrong. Now I haven’t had a single person to Judge, and I’m losing my power by the minute. It’s a slap in the face having someone jumping over my building—on a motorcycle, of all things—without even being consulted. Don’t you think?”
“Yes, Your Honor. I was thinking the same thing when I heard the announcement at church this morning. It doesn’t seem fair is all,” she added, “but it’s none of my business, of course.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m curious. If you were in my position, what would you do?”
“Oh, you know me. I don’t like to give my opinion about these sorts of things,” she said, almost singing and reminding him of Edith from the Archie Bunker TV show he watched as a kid. She would talk in a happy flighty kind of voice, but occasionally lay down the hammer out of nowhere.
“I would like to know what you think,” the Judge repeated.
“Well, okay, sir,” she replied, looking around the room and lowering her voice. “You and the Sheriff used to be a team of sorts, but you always had the final say. Everyone in town respected you, and this courthouse meant something. Now things are different somehow, and people are saying you’ve lost your gavel. I, of course, would never agree, but that’s what they are saying around town… What would I do?” she asked, lowering her voice even more. “If I were you, I would take back my town by any means necessary. It’s you or him now, but it can’t be both. If you will excuse me, I really should be going.”
“Of course, and we can keep this between us?” the Sheriff asked.
“I always do, Your Honor.”
* * * *
Sheriff Johnson set a timeline and met briefly with the ramp architect and men constructing the landing ramp.
“I want this project complete by the end of day Thursday, in case we need to make any last-minute adjustments,” he told them.
He had a meeting set in the morning with two men from the reenactment club, who he met at church. Of course, he realized he might not get everything he wanted weapon-wise, but he would have to make do with what was available.
There was only one thing left to do today, and he couldn’t wait to deliver the news. He entered the jailhouse and sat quietly at his desk. He knew his prisoners could hear him, but they hadn’t said a word.
“Ken,” he called out.
“Yes, sir,” came the immediate reply.
“I have good news. The ramp will be completed by the end of Thursday, and we can inspect it then. You will jump this coming Saturday afternoon at 4:15, rain or shine.
“Thank you. That is good news,” Ken replied, now being able to count down the days until his release, and hoping for good weather.
“Richard, I have good news for you as well.”
“Yes, sir,” he replied. “What’s the news?”
“You will fight right after Ken’s jump, also on Saturday.”
Richard was excited by this news, because he figured that with no opponent he would just be killed without an opportunity to win.
“You found a challenger?”
“Yes, I did.” Sheriff Johnson paused, reveling in the moment. The awkward silence before the storm was more than he could have asked for.
“Your opponent, Richard,” he said, pausing again... Wait for it, he whispered to himself… Wait for it… “Your opponent is right across the hall, in the other cell.”
There was silence for a few seconds, as all present processed the information, realizing it wasn’t Ken but the other man, the one who shot James.
The Sheriff waited, standing in the opened front door when it started.
“Now wait just a damn minute! I never agreed to that!” cried out the man across the hall. “You can’t just go and make me...”
“Someone will be by later with your dinner,” the Sheriff called out, closing and locking the door behind him.
He smiled as he walked home, playing the conversation over in his mind.
Telling his girlfriend what happened, they both laughed. “Now,” she said, getting his focus back and pulling out a spiral notebook with paragraphs listed, one to six, “we need to discuss the Judge.
“Starting with the obvious at number one, this town is not big enough for two men who both want to be in charge. Next, there are only two choices.
“Choice one: he leaves town and goes somewhere, anywhere, else.
“Choice two: you kill him. I would prefer he leave town, but I’m not going to lose any sleep either way,” she added.
“Moving on to point number three. A girlfriend of mine was over earlier today for a glass or two of wine and told me something very interesting about the trade days last week. She said she could swear seeing the Judge buy a pistol of some sort from one of the vendors. Said he looked nervous and tried to hide it in a bag. When she asked the vendor about it later, he told her he didn’t know anything about it.
“Now, why would he buy a pistol right after things had changed with you unless he didn’t already own one? Does he?”
“Well, I don’t know,” replied the Sheriff. “I just always assumed he did, but now that I think about it, I don’t remember him ever bringing it up.”
“Regardless, he has one now, we can be pretty sure,” she continued. “Both of you are trying to get James on your side—as well as Jason, who will tag along either way. Now you’re making decisions without him and you’re jumping his courthouse without asking. He’s probably pretty pissed off right now.”
* * * *
As she spoke, Judge Lowry was having four cases of James’ moonshine, that had been stacked in his office, delivered to the Sheriff’s top four deputies.
The card read “Thank you, boys, for keeping my town safe. The Sheriff and I could never do it without you. Have a drink on me—Judge Lowry.”
* * * * * * *
Chapter Twenty-six
Raton Pass, New Mexico
Hudson, Jax and Hendrix were happy to have me back, and I wondered if they understood what just happened.
“Daddy, we missed you,” said Jax, “but we were playing games, so it’s okay.”
“Did you have fun with your friends?” he asked.
“Oh, something like that, son,” I replied.
I was exhausted, as I assumed everyone else was, having been through more than one adrenaline dump in the past few hours. My mind wandered as I wondered if it was similar for soldiers at war, and I had a new appreciation for what they may go through. Except I would likely get to turn it off, at least for the immediate future.
Still, we separated into two-person groups and canvassed the entire perimeter for the next three hours, including the use of Mel’s two drones, before declaring the property safe from intruders and fire.
I was looking forward to dinner and an early bedtime tonight. Joy wanted to try our friends on the radio tonight, but I pushed it off a day.
“Ronna’s group will be going by tomorrow or the next day, and I’m pretty sure he’s already heard about what happened today. Plus, I think the Colonel will tell him we are hands-off. We’ll try them tomorrow morning,” I told her.
We had three-person security shifts, with Joy and many of the other ladies demanding a spot. Lonnie set the teams and times, pairing me with Joy and Tom for the first shift from 8-10 p.m. Each shift ran two hours, until 6 a.m.
Nancy was nice enough to volunteer to watch our boys while Joy and I were on our patrol, and even brought Danny along for a play date of sorts.
I made a mental note to talk with her and Jake about what to do if anything bad should happen to both Joy and me. The tradition of having godparents seemed to have slowly faded in the old world, but I imagined it would make a major insurgence out of pure necessity over the coming months and years.
The shift was a breeze by today’s standards, with both Joy and me on four-wheelers and Tom asking questions about Mike that I wasn’t going to answer.
Clocking out at ten sharp, I was asleep by 10:15 and slept like I was in a coma until sunrise.
* * * *
My leg ached but felt better in general, and I realized I had gone an entire day without thinking much about it. I hoped I was on the mend.
As I stepped out of our tent into another amazing day, the temperature was neither cold nor hot, and the smoke from yesterday had cleared the mountaintops. The birds sang songs of spring and I hoped it would be a good day.
Joy contacted our friends, with Jim’s help, and we gave a watered-down version of what happened yesterday. Enough to give them pause for the upcoming trip but not enough to turn them back.
“We headed out early,” said Shane, “but we’re holding back a few hundred yards behind the second large group.”
“You guys can’t be that close!” I said, raising my voice. “You have to pull back before...”
“Hold on,” said Adan. “I think we’ve been spotted. This is not good… No, this is not good at all.”
“Turn around!” shouted Kat. “Turn around before they surround us,” finished Kris, trailing off…
“I’m sorry, Joy,” she said in a quiet, cautious voice. “I don’t think we’re going to make it to you.”
“What do you see?” I asked, wishing I had a visual.
“Men, women and children are surrounding the truck and trailer. I don’t know where they came from, but we can’t just run them over,” said Kris.
“Are they speaking or giving orders?” I asked.
“No, they’re just staring at us, like zombies or something. I think we are going to die right here today,” she said quietly.
“Listen closely,” I told her. “Let me talk to Shane and Adan.”
“Guys, you need to ask to speak to the man in charge. He goes by the name of Ronna. Tell him I know the Colonel, and I want to speak to him directly.”
“Okay,” replied Shane. “We’ll try it.”
I could hear the muffled sound of Shane shouting to speak with the leader.
“Come on, Ronna. I know you’re close,” I whispered. Seconds passed, turning to minutes, as a medley of sounds were heard—from muffled speech to yelling. I looked over to see Joy, nervous and pacing the room. “There are no shots or screams,” I told her, “so that’s good so far.”
“He’s coming in here, I think,” said Adan, “in just a minute.”
“Who am I speaking with?” asked a strong voice from the other end.
“It’s Lance, sir. And this is Ronna, am I right?”
“It is.”
“Sir, we met not long ago, with my group passing through the grasslands. We fairly traded a few weapons for safe passage, if you remember.”
“I seem to remember it being only two weapons and not a few.”
“Yes,” I agreed, “that’s right. Yo
u told us about your past work as a barista.”
“Yes, I remember now. What do you want?”
“We want safe passage for our friends,” I replied.
“Why would we agree to that? We could use a trailer like this, as you can imagine.”
“Yes, sir, I understand that, but I was hoping you spoke with the Colonel about us already.”
“Ah, now I see. It was you, your group of wanderers, who fought off Baker’s hoard yesterday— with some help from the skies, of course.”
Next World Series (Vol. 4): Families First [Hard Roads] Page 17
