Deputy at Large

by Judge Rodriguez

  Jake looks around a bit and guesses they are close to the Kansas border, but since that’s only a line on a map, there’s no way to tell.

  The trail went sideways a couple of times, almost as if whomever was driving the wagon was drunk. Which, truth be told, wouldn’t surprise Jake if that were the case.

  Jake checks the horizon again and sees a flash. He motions for someone to come forward and, without looking to see who it is, points to where he saw it.

  Joey says, “What? Yup, I see it, too.”

  The two riders wait for the rest of the posse to come forward and discuss what they see.

  The group splits into the three lawmen. John and his family in one group, Joey and Sean in another, then Jake alone.

  John’s group rides to the southwest, Joey’s to the northwest and Jake rides straight for where the flashes continue to come from.

  As Jake approaches the slight rise, the flashing becomes more prominent. He can also tell that it seems to coincide with the wind.

  He glances to the south, John and his family are riding hard toward the rise. He glances to the north, Joey and Sean are following suit.

  When he gets close to the flashing, it appears to be a sign, with a mirror attached to it. All around it, are small mounds in the dirt, with little pieces of metal sticking out of the center. Jake reins in sharply, making Ranger slide to a stop. He waves to the two groups riding toward him to stop and back away. They stop, but don’t back off.

  Jake sighs and dismounts. He gives Ranger the silent signal to stay and edges his way closer to the sign. In crudely painted black letters, it says, “Gotcha!”

  He stares in horror at the mistake the group almost made. Now that he can see the surrounding terrain fairly well, he sees all around the small hillock, what appears to be some kind of buried casks. Possibly full of gunpowder, with trip-wires going between them and pegs being stuck in the ground. In fact, if Jake had ridden another twenty feet towards the hill, Ranger would have tripped one of those lines and the entire hillside would have gone up in an impressive fireball.

  Giving old army hand-signs, he motions everyone toward the sign, trying to warn his blood-brother. He can hear John’s whistle of amazement at the sight when the three riders approach.

  Jake follows suit, when Joey and Sean approach. By this point, John, his son, and his daughter-in-law are already dismounting. When Joey rides Shadow closer, Jake can see Joey’s understanding of the booby-trap.

  John gets a pair of wire cutters out of his saddle and walks over to the closest trip-wire, then begins clipping lines as he moves his way up the hill.

  Joey dismounts and approaches Jake. “Whatcha think? Think he knows we’re close by?”

  Jake peers at the mirror and how dirty it really is. He shakes his head. “They could have set that trap days, if not weeks ago. I think we ARE close to their main camp, though.”

  Joey nods and sees to her horse’s saddle.

  John approaches, carrying what appears to be a cask with a metal attachment. He turns it over and shows everyone in the party. “The metal is a cannon primer. This looks to be quite the explosive device. If this is smokeless gunpowder . . .” He shakes his head and points toward where the other dozen casks are. “Once this goes up, there’s gonna be a big hole in the ground.”

  Jake whistles low in amazement. This booby-trap has quite the implication. He takes the cask from John and notices it seems to have some condensation on it. He hefts it, gauging it weight. About ten pounds. This many casks being in one place. Where did all this powder come from? He turns the cask over and, painted on the side, is “Property of U.S. Army.” Uh oh.

  John sees Jake noticing the paint job and nods. “I don’t think that really means anything, though. They could be stolen, you know.”

  Jake nods, then sighs. “You know what this is?” He scrapes off some of the residue and shows it to John who nods. “Should we tell everyone else? What should we do with these?”

  John shakes his head. “I don’t know how much nitro the ground has soaked up. Even then, I—I don’t know. We don’t really want to move this stuff in case it’s unstable.”

  Jake looks at it a moment longer, then nods. “I think we should leave it here. Maybe, once we get done hunting Richard, we can tell the army where their missing powder is, right?”

  Johns nods, then turns to Joey, who just walked up. “So, we have a problem.” He hands the cask to her, exposing the painted-on stamp.

  “Yep.” She wipes off some of the condensation. “Is that what I think it is?” John nods. “Sounds like we have more than one problem.” Her sardonic grin belies her obvious discomfort.

  Jake nods slowly. “I vote we leave them here and let the next detachment know where they are at our next opportunity.”

  Joey looks over her shoulder at David, who’s speaking softly to Sean and jabs her thumb at them. “Think we should tell them?”

  John nods. “If, for no other reason, then to let them know to stay away from the mound. Otherwise, someone might blunder into it.”

  Jake nods in total agreement.

  Joey’s smile is grim. “Okay, I guess that means you’re leaving it up to me, right?”

  Both deputies grin and nod.

  She sighs and turns away, muttering to herself. From what Jake can hear, she’s muttering something about “boys.”

  Jake looks at John, they share the same mischievous look and both crack up laughing.

  Joey looks over her shoulder at the pair of laughing “boys”, and her look darkens making both men laugh all the harder.

  Chapter 36

  John looks at the horizon. The setting sun is red, an ill omen for the next day or so. The entire landscape seems to be bathed in the redness of blood. That is, save for the area just to the north of due west, which has a plume of smoke rising from it.

  The group decided to ride towards it about two hours ago. John figures if they ride at a good canter, they should be there in about fifteen minutes, about an hour before full dark.

  The likelihood that the camp is Richard’s is very low, but it’s still a possibility. Both Josh and Joey recommend caution, but John is still chomping at the bit to try and settle in for the night. He feels off-balance. Something is wrong. He’s prayed silently about it several times today, but even still. There’s something wrong. If they’re not close to Richard, they’re close to something. He can feel it in his bones.

  There’s something wrong. He feels it in his soul. The world seems darker, somehow. Almost as if a shadow has passed over the sun.

  There’s something off-balance in the world. He looks around at the entire area being bathed in the red of the setting sun and can believe it’s blood.

  John looks down at his hands and feels something sticky on them.

  There’s something wrong. When did his hands get covered in blood? Wait, no, they’re not. They’re just sticky with sweat. The entire plain is bathed in the red of the setting sun.

  There’s something wrong with those clouds on the horizon. The sun has just set, but the clouds are still red. Red clouds at sunset. OH NO! It’s been the better part of a decade since he’s seen one of this size, but sure enough . . . John reins in and yells, “Dust storm!”

  The rest of the group rides up to him as quickly as they can. John wordlessly points toward the looming clouds on the horizon.

  Suddenly, the wind dies down. Joey asks quietly, “Whatcha think we should do?”

  John shakes his head. “I think we should make a dead run for the camp, or set up our own, for weathering out the storm. Either way, we have to decide now. I’d guess we have just about an hour before it hits us and hits us hard.”

  Joey looks at Josh and asks, jabbing her thumb at the impending storm, “Do you think we’re gonna be able to weather that?”

  Josh strokes his jaw, carefully assessing what kind of trouble they are about to have to deal with. “Most likely, we can’t. This looks to be a bad one.”

  Joey looks
at David and Rebekah. “Do you feel like making a run for it? Or do you wanna hunker down?”

  Rebekah looks at her husband. David shakes his head. “I say make a run for it.”

  Joey nods. “Then let’s do it.” She turns Shadow and spurs him into as hard a gallop as she can manage.

  In just under ten minutes, the riders slow just outside the camp. A couple of minutes into their headlong dash, John pulled forward to take point. As they go in a walk to the camp, he’s glad he IS riding in the vanguard and has his repeater unholstered.

  He gets the feeling something is seriously wrong here. He glances around the camp quickly assessing what kind of situation they are heading into. Sitting around the campfire are three men, drinking what appears to be whiskey from the bottle, oblivious to the storm coming at them.

  Just outside the tents, John stops his horse and dismounts, silently giving the lathered animal the command to stay.

  The rest of the party rides up slowly, cautiously. John holds up his hand, telling them to hold on, while he goes to investigate.

  He brings his repeater up at the ready and edges his way into the camp. The wind starts to pick up a bit, tearing the tongues of flame in the campfire this way, then that.

  He looks at the men sitting around the fire. They appear to be well on their way to getting plowed. It seems they have been sitting here, drinking for a while. He can hear the conversation of the men, talking about when they “liberated” the whiskey from an old man.

  He takes cover as he sees someone approach from the far side of the camp.

  Richard’s loud voice bellows, “Are you idiots trying to burn down this camp? Put out that fire before everything catches!”

  “Oh! You mean like you burned that old injun’s wagon?” one of the drunken men calls out with a raucous laugh.

  John edges his way out of the camp, back to the rest of the party. He motions everyone close by and says in a voice barely audible. “We got a problem.” He motions toward David. “I heard them talking. They’re the ones that killed your grandpa.”

  David’s face goes beet red.

  John holds up his hand. “Wait. We need to coordinate this attack!” He shakes his head. “They’re drunk, but . .” He points to Josh, “You and Sean move to the left. Joey, you, David and Rebekah move to the right. Everyone got it?” Everyone nods, getting their diverse weapons ready.

  John’s eyes are starting to sting from the dust in the air. He goes back, the way he came, rifle at the ready. Just as he gets close enough to the camp, he yells out, “U.S. Marshal! You’re all under arrest!”

  The men around the fire immediately reach for their guns. One man falls having been shot by either Josh or Sean. One of the other men collapses having been shot by Joey and the third goes down, having been felled by John.

  At John’s shout, Richard dives for the ground, rolls, then comes up with gun in hand. He shoots toward John, but John is well enough hidden, Richard’s shots go wide.

  John hears Sean’s shout of “Richard!” and watches as Richard rises, then turns to his right. A single shot rings out from John’s left and Richard is thrown back several feet.

  John rushes over to Richard, surprised as the man still seems to be breathing. He turns and looks as Sean and Josh approach from his left. He turns to look as Joey, David and Rebekah approach from his right.

  John hears a sound, almost like a chuckle, coming from Richard.

  Just as Sean gets close enough to Richard to hear anything the dying man might say, Richard utters, “Now, you’re a killer, just like me!”

  John stares on in wonder as Sean smiles, then points his revolver toward the man, pulls the hammer back and squeezes the trigger, putting a round directly into Richard’s chest, killing him instantly.

  Richard’s head slams to the ground and everyone in the posse are shocked as an unearthly howl emanates from Richard’s mouth to swirl endlessly into the storm.

  The group stands there, looking at each other in shock, while the dust in the air gets thick enough to stand on.

  The wind picks up and starts howling around all of them. Joey starts directing everyone to getting the horses into the pens. The gusting wind makes little eddies in the swirling dust as everyone moves about the camp, working to secure themselves and their animals.

  John ends up being in the same tent as Josh, just as the storm hits full force. They have their horses lay down in the center of the tent, while the riders hunker down between the horses’ legs. The storm lashes the camp throughout most of the night. At first, John spends the time praying, but the constant sound of the wind lulls him to sleep.

  It’s the lack of sound that eventually wakes him. He opens his eyes, unable to know what he’s looking at. Finally, he’s able to understand, he’s looking at the non-moving entrance to the tent. The next thing he notices, is the sound.

  At first, the rumbling sound makes John think there may be an earthquake, but no. It’s too rhythmic and the sound seems to coincide with how his head keeps moving up and down. It takes him several minutes to realize the sound is coming from his horse, whose barrel he’s laying on, and is snoring.

  John sits up and looks around the tent. As he does, he sees Josh laying against the barrel of his horse and still appears to be asleep.

  He pokes his head out of their tent to peer out at the preternaturally clear air. The night is almost as bright as the noonday sun. John looks up at the stars and gasps at their brilliant clarity.

  He taps his horse’s shoulder, waking him and directs the animal to its hooves, then outside the tent. As he leads the large creature across the camp, he looks down at the bodies of the raiders and sees not only that the wind partially buried them, but also caused a considerable amount of damage to them.

  In particular, Richard’s face seems to be fixed in a malicious grin. The clothing around the wounds that claimed his cursed life are filled with blood soaked sand and are ragged. His body is arranged in a hideously contorted fashion. John stops for a moment and gazes at the body, curious as to how it ended up moving.

  He gives his horse the silent command to stay, then looks more closely at the body in front of him. He moves some of the clothing around to expose the skin. There appear to be sores, bruises and veins showing like lines of infection, crisscrossing throughout the newly exposed skin. There’s more going on here than he thought at first. He stands and goes back to his horse, then looks across the camp to see David peering out of the tent that John assumes he is sharing with his wife.

  John waves at the young doctor, indicating Richard’s body, and moves on to where the picket line should be located.

  He chuckles at the irony of his situation. David is quite literally the son he never had. He recalls the sentiment that if he ever had a child, he would want that child to be just like his young friend. Talk about being a case of “be careful what you wish for.”

  He hobbles his horse to the picket line and gazes out to the southwest. There’s a glow on the horizon he can only guess would be Fort Supply.

  He heads back to the camp and sees David examining Richard’s body. His son is approached by Josh and they have a quiet conversation John can’t hear from this distance.

  John strides quickly over to where the two men are and asks quietly, “So, do you think he had some type of infection?” He points toward the markings on the body.

  David shakes his head. “I honestly have no idea. All I know is I’m glad he’s dead. The world is a much better place without him in it.”

  Though John’s not completely surprised, hearing such a hateful statement coming from his son is still very disconcerting to him. He looks at Josh and sees a look of surprise on his blood-brother’s face. “I know what you mean. Any and everyone that had any kind of dealings with him were defiled by his presence.”

  Joey steps up quickly and says quietly, “We have a problem with Sean.” She hands John the gun he loaned the young Irishman about a month or so ago.

  John takes the revo
lver and turns it over, inspecting it carefully. “What’s going on?”

  “I just about had to beat him to get it out of his hands.” John cocks an eyebrow in question. “To keep him from using it on himself.”

  John quickly puts the gun into his belt. “Alright, let’s go.”

  Joey nods and leads the way to the tent she shared with Sean during the storm.

  John enters the tent without knocking on the tent pole or scratching on the canvas as courtesy demands. He sees his young friend on his haunches, just sitting there crying silently into his hands. “What is this about, Sean?” John’s voice is intentionally gruff.

  Sean looks at the older man with a dead look that makes John groan inwardly. Quietly, the young man replies, “He t’hat lives by tha sword, dies by tha sword.”

  John slowly lowers himself to the ground, allowing himself to be at eye-level with his young friend. “Listen to me. I know you hated Richard for killing your parents and for what he did to Brigit. I know you wanted nothing more than to see him dead. Do you want him to cause Brigit any more pain, even though he’s dead now?”

  Sean’s eyes go wide. “How—how could’e be ab’le ta da t’hat?”

  John looks the young man in the eye. “By taking you away from her.”

  Sean gasps, his eyes water again and he shakes his head. “Ya cannae b’lieve she’ll ever be ab’le ta love a killeh’ like ma.”

  John sighs, then looks away. “I’ve had to kill several people since accepting the Gift of Grace. Does that mean I’m unforgivable?”

  Sean shakes his head. “Ya kip killin’ in d’fins. I jist kilt‘im in anger. Complitly diff’rent.”

  John looks at him seriously for a moment, “A killer is a killer. Do you really think there’s any kind of a difference in how it’s done?”

  Sean looks away and continues to cry wordlessly.

  John shakes his head. “At least promise me you won’t try anything stupid until after we get back to Norman. If you don’t think you deserve to live, at least give Brigit the chance to say bye to you before you continue to be dumb.” He looks in the same direction Sean is, wondering what seems to be capturing the young man’s attention. Sean appears to still be staring at David examining Richard’s body.