“Focus,” he told himself, passing through the crowd to the front of the pit.
Mike was surprised, looking down into the massive hole dug into the ground. The top was the size of a football field narrowing to the bottom where it was the size of maybe two backyard swimming pools, he guessed.
Two men were led into the pit in chains by three others.
He caught their eyes as they passed. One looked confident, like a seasoned boxer entering the venue to his fight song. The other looked terrified, leading him to believe he could pick out the newbie and last champion. He caught the newbie’s eyes, staining his red checks with tears for only a second, and wanted to help. He knew he could not both help him and complete his mission.
“I’m sorry,” he mouthed as the lead men took the chains off, pushing him into the bottom fighting arena.
The fight would be brutal and not last long, Mike thought.
You can’t save everyone, he heard in his head. Stay focused on the rest.
He located the brothers he wanted. They were easy to spot, dressed in robes like the eccentric Hugh Hefner used to wear and surrounded by several women and guards. Everyone appeared drunk from his vantage point, even the security detail.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Forty
Weston, Colorado
The Sheriff’s top four deputies gladly received the gift of moonshine from the Judge.
They discussed it on the next shift, not sure if they should mention it to Sheriff Johnson.
“As far as I’m concerned,” said one, “he never told us we had to let him know anything about the Judge. Besides, they were always good friends…until recently, maybe.”
“But that’s not our business,” added another. “Maybe we ought to keep this to ourselves,” he added. “Who knows what’s going to happen with those two, but I’m pretty sure whoever comes out on top will be our boss. I’m not getting involved if I don’t have to, that’s for sure—and neither should any of you.”
* * * *
Ken worked hard on the Mayor’s chair, as did Cam, the electrical wizard from the restaurant.
Neither wanted the other to see their progress, and the shop owner gave them separate work spaces inside the shop. “You guys need anything, just let me know,” he would tell them at the beginning of each day.
Only one man was allowed to see the progress on both chairs at the end of the day.
“How are the projects coming?” the Sheriff called out loudly late that morning?
“Good so far,” both builders called back.
“Well, I don’t want to see them until they are all done,” he called back so both could hear. “I’ll be back later,” the Sheriff said quietly to the shop owner. “What time does the old-timer clock out?”
“Four o’clock on the dot,” he replied.
“All right. I’ll be back at five tonight,” said the Sheriff.
“I need this chair done before Saturday,” he told Ken as he was leaving. “I’ll be presenting it to the Mayor right before your jump.
“Get it done by Thursday, and I’ll let you get a feel for the bike ahead of time. I’m guessing you won’t need any practice jumps with the three broken ribs and the fingers there. How are you healing up, by the way?”
“Good, as far as I can tell, sir,” replied Ken. “Seems better every day. And yes, I would like to get a feel for the bike; and no, I don’t want a practice jump. It’s already going to hurt like crazy on the landing, even if I stick it. Either way, it’s better than fighting Richard.”
“All right. Keep up the good work then,” said the Sheriff as he walked out the door.
* * * *
Judge Lowry was withdrawn, sulking, and craved the power he had so recently lost.
His days blurred into long sleepless nights, and his conversation with his longtime employee ran through his head like one of those old movies on the big reel.
He paced the courthouse again this day, with his employee typing away God knows what, he thought. Always with the typing, and there isn’t even any work to be done, at least not for me.
He wished he had someone else to talk to about this, a girlfriend or perhaps someone else, but wouldn’t dare say it out loud in a town this small. Sure, he had heard the rumors of relationships he may have had in neighboring cities over the years, but rarely did he bring anyone back to town; and if he did, it was always under the cover of night.
Still, he needed someone to talk to who could be impartial to this business with the Sheriff.
“Think, think!” he said aloud.
“James VanFleet,” came the call from his employee, not missing a typewriter stroke.
“What?” he called back across the echoing room.
“Give me just a minute,” she asked, and typed until the bar shifted back to the left for a new line.
“I said James VanFleet, sir.”
“But I didn’t say anything out loud, did I?”
“You didn’t have to, sir. I know you better than anybody, and I’m sure about that. What I was going to say was that you should talk with James VanFleet, just in case you decide to…well, you know.”
“Take control of the town?” he answered for her.
“Yes, sir.”
“It’s a good idea, but he’s not in town much right now.”
“With all due redirect sir, the Honorable Judge Lowry I have served under for all these years, I mean the one before a couple of weeks ago…that man, sir, would get right in his truck and drive out to the VanFleet ranch without an invitation to check on James’ recovery and talk about town matters while there… It’s about closing time,” she added, “and I best be going. See you bright and early tomorrow, sir.”
She left the courthouse, giving him something to think about, and not long after, he decided an early morning trip out to the ranch was in order.
* * * *
The Judge rose early, mentally preparing himself for the unannounced morning visit.
He was used to intimidating people in his courthouse, and maybe even James in the jailhouse meetings when he was still considering running for Mayor, but now he was the one asking for something and not on his own turf.
He was hoping to appear both confident and concerned about James’ recovery, as well as the future of the town.
At 8 a.m., most of the town still slept, or at least remained indoors.
He was the only vehicle on the road, as far as he could see.
He passed a few tractors and one old beat-up car on the way as he got closer to the property, parking just in front of the gate at Second Chances Ranch.
His first instinct was to honk, but after only a minute he saw two figures coming towards the gate on four-wheelers.
“Hello, Judge,” greeted Janice, with Jason just behind.
“Hello, ma’am, Jason,” he replied. “Sorry, I didn’t call, but I just wanted to stop by and check on your husband.”
“That’s nice,” she said, not offering for him to stay. “I’ll be sure to let him know you stopped by.”
“Well now, I was hoping I could talk a bit with him and you, Jason…if I’m not imposing, that is. I’d hate for this trip all the way out here to be wasted is all.”
Janice paused, not wanting to turn him away flatly, but not really feeling like entertaining anyone this morning.
“You missed breakfast,” said Jason, “about an hour ago.”
“Oh, that’s okay. With just a cup of coffee and a little friendly conversation, I would be a right happy man. Would you do that for me, Janice?”
She paused again before conceding.
“All right, Judge, but only 30 minutes. James is on the mend, but he still needs his rest. I’ll put a fresh pot on as well.”
“Thank you, ma’am. That sounds fine by me.”
Jason opened the fence so the Judge could drive through before locking it again.
James could see the road from inside the house with his binoculars and made it out to the front
porch as they all pulled up.
“Howdy, Judge. You don’t mind if I stay seated this morning?”
“Fine by me, James,” he responded, making a deliberate gesture to shake James’ hand. “I’m just glad to see you’re up and about and still breathing after that heathen of a man shot you down.”
“Well, it’s water under the bridge, as far as I’m concerned,” replied James. “I was wondering, though, what happened to that guy? I never did hear about your ruling on him, but I’ve also been a bit out of the loop lately.”
“I haven’t ruled yet, haven’t even been presented with all of the evidence to make a judgment either way. I guess that’s part of why I’m out here visiting you today.”
“How do you take your coffee, Judge?” asked Lauren, who was helping Janice.
“Black is fine, ma’am. Thank you.”
“We will leave you two out here to talk then.”
“Have Jason come on out, please,” said James, not asking Judge Lowry for his agreement.
“The good Judge has some things to discuss,” announced James, as Jason stepped out on to the porch. Jason’s stomach tightened, as it had always done whenever he had any sort of meeting with either the Judge or Sheriff.
“As you may remember,” started Judge Lowry, “back when you both considered running for office in my town, there was a sort of...well, what I mean is that the town ran a particular way after the lights went out, and even before that day.
“Sheriff Johnson and I didn’t see eye to eye on everything relating to town business, but together we got things done to move this town forward.
“In the past couple of weeks, things have changed a bit…well, a lot, to be honest. He and I don’t talk much at all anymore. It’s that meddling girlfriend of his, I’m pretty sure. He used to have her under control, but even back then she was always yapping about how he should be in charge and not me.”
James gave Jason a look to just listen. It was a good thing Janice didn’t hear the Judge’s comments about the Sheriff controlling his girlfriend or her “yapping,” he thought, or the good Judge may have been shown the road right then.
“Anyway, we used to be a good team, and now, as I said, I don’t even know what he plans to do with that shooter of yours. He’s even gone so far as to have someone jumping a motorcycle, of all things, right over my courthouse! What if he misses—dies right up on the roof? How’s that going to look?”
James didn’t answer, as he was sure it wasn’t actually a question but just a man venting about losing his power.
“All I’m saying is that I have supported you and Jason here since the very beginning, when it all started. You two have the support of the town; I knew that when I counted the electoral votes. Your race wasn’t even close.”
“I believe the Sheriff’s was the same,” interjected Jason.
The Judge laughed out loud.
“Are you kidding me right now? I told the Sheriff that the results indicated a landslide victory; what I didn’t tell him was that the landslide was in favor of Mr. Grimes!”
“Well, wait a minute…” Jason started, as James jumped in before he could say something he wouldn’t be able to take back.
“Sir, I will admit,” said James, “that we weren’t aware of that and thought Sheriff Johnson had won the seat easily.”
“Nope, didn’t happen like that at all. I won’t get into the details, but without my help he would be begging for work right now.
“This brings me to my point. I have the support of the town, as do both of you. That’s the one thing that really matters moving forward. I probably should have just let Mr. Grimes win and not let the Sheriff han...”
He caught himself and paused before continuing.
“The bottom line, gentlemen, is that something has to change, and pretty damn quick if we’re going to save this town. Either the Sheriff is going to have to stop listening to that conniving girlfriend of his or we are going to need a new Sheriff. It’s simple as that.
“James, just between us, if the position of Sheriff of Weston were to become available soon, would you consider working with me at that level? Don’t answer now. Just think it over,” he said, standing to leave. “Tell Janice thank you for the coffee, and I’ll be in touch. It’s been a pleasure, gentlemen.”
“What’s that about?” asked Jason as the Judge got into his truck.
“I don’t know,” replied James, “but can you unlock the gate for him.”
Judge Lowry drove through the opened gate with a straight face, but a grin came over him, rising high on his cheeks, as he drove on down the road. His employee was right; he suddenly felt much better having spoken with James.
He sang an old Wille Nelson song loud, with the windows down.
On the road again
I just can’t wait to get on the road again. The life I love is makin’ music with my friends
And I can’t wait to get on the road again...
On the road again
Goin’ places that I’ve never been
Seein’ things that I may never see again
And I can’t wait to get on the road again….”
* * * * * * *
Chapter Forty-one
Weston, Colorado
The Judge slowed, seeing an old Ford Bronco he recognized. As he passed, he saw that the driver’s door read “Weston Police.” He did a half-wave at the officer in the driver’s seat as he drove slowly past.
Wonder what a Sheriff’s vehicle is doing out here this time of the morning? he thought.
He instinctively looked in his rearview, even though he hadn’t been speeding. For a moment there was nothing, but he could see the man on his radio. Then the lights, followed by the siren, and the Bronco sped up behind him.
“What the hell is this about?” he said aloud, not pulling over.
Another half mile with the deputy on his bumper and the call came over the loudspeaker. “Pull over! Pull your vehicle to the side of the road!” came the second warning.
The Judge was furious. Everyone in town knew his red truck with the license plate reading JDG-LRY. “They know better than to mess with me,” he said aloud, as he increased his speed.
Passing a second patrol car on his right, it joined in and gave chase. The Judge felt a bit like those cousins, Bo and Luke Duke, known as the Duke Boys of Hazzard County.
They would run from the bumbling Sheriff and would almost always get away.
“Let’s see if you can keep up, boys,” the Judge shouted, stomping on the gas. His speedometer slowly rose from 30 to 40, and up to 75 before a third deputy joined the chase.
“Boss,” called the lead deputy closest behind Judge Lowry’s truck over the radio.
“You got ’im yet?” asked the Sheriff.
“No, sir, he’s running, but we’ve got three cars on him. He won’t be getting away, not today.”
With the gas pedal all the way to the floor, the Judge’s old truck shook back and forth as the speedometer hit 105. He had never been this fast in any vehicle and was surprised the old truck could even clock over 100 miles per hour.
All three cars followed chase, single file. It’s a good thing we had the roads cleared a few weeks back, Judge Lowry thought.
“Where’s he headed?” asked the Sheriff, wishing he could see the chase firsthand.
“He’s headed west on county road 31.9, and we just turned north on Big Pine Ridge Road. You should have seen him take the corner! He slowed quite a bit but almost lost it in a fishtail! You want me to try the PIT before he gets going too fast again?”
The PIT maneuver, as it was called in law enforcement, was the act of getting the chase car alongside the perpetrator, near his rear tire, and giving the lighter end of the vehicle a tap to throw it off course. It was potentially a deadly, almost last, resort to stop a vehicle and not seen nearly as much as one might imagine from years of chase movies. It’s the highest level of chase maneuvers after the Uncontrolled Contact maneuver, where on
e or multiple law enforcement vehicles ram a car until it stops.
“Yeah, give the PIT one shot, but keep it slow. I don’t want him killed,” the Sheriff called out. “Not yet, that is,” he whispered inside the jailhouse.
The lead deputy got on the side of the truck fast. “Pull over!” he called out one more time over the speaker, wanting to give him a last chance at ending this before someone got hurt.
The Judge put his left hand out his driver’s side window and flipped the deputy his middle finger.
Next World Series (Vol. 4): Families First [Hard Roads] Page 29
