by Kim McMahill
“I have some good news that’ll cheer you up. I found the cookie tin when we were moving camp. I’d forgotten all about the cookies with everything that’s happened. They won’t be very fresh, but they’ll still be a nice treat tonight,” Niki offered.
“I was afraid I’d missed out. Don’t eat any until I get back. I’m just going to the creek for water. It can heat up while we have dessert.”
“Better hurry. I always say, you snooze you lose.” Niki handed Deuce the pot.
Niki watched until Deuce’s light disappeared into the darkness and then went inside the tent to retrieve the cookies and some instant cocoa she had brought. As she dug through the canvas pannier Deuce had used to pack in her supplies, Sally and Bess began braying and were soon joined by hundreds of sheep calling out in alarm.
“Please be a bear,” Niki mumbled as she grabbed the rifle, resigned to the fact that her life had deteriorated to the point of hoping for a run-in with a bear at night deep in the mountains as opposed to another human confrontation. “Papa, please don’t try to move, I’ll be just outside the flap and I’m sure Deuce heard the ruckus and is on his way back. Promise me?”
The old man nodded. Niki secured her light to her forehead, but didn’t turn it on. She slipped out of the tent and into the darkness and took cover behind the closest tree. No one would get to her grandfather.
She watched as a light bobbed in and out of the trees and wove through the sheep. She only saw one light, but was certain she could make out the shapes of two horses. Deuce, where are you?
Niki’s finger trembled near the trigger. She wasn’t sure she could kill again, but the riders kept coming. She thought about calling out to the strangers, demanding they identify themselves, but she hated to give her position away or the fact that she was a woman until absolutely necessary.
Fifty feet from the tent, the men pulled their horses to a halt. The night was so still that she could hear the leather of the saddles creak as the men dismounted. Their horses stood between her and the men, so she still couldn’t see their faces and saw no sign of Deuce, nor had either man spoke. She pulled the bolt back and jacked a shell into the chamber, making no effort to be quiet with the action. The men froze and threw their hands up.
“Bernie,” one man shouted. “It’s Frank and Joe. Don’t shoot.”
“Thank God,” came Deuce’s deep voice as he walked out from behind a tree just twenty yards from Niki.
Niki stepped forward until she could see Frank and Joe clearly, but she still hadn’t lowered the rifle.
“I’ll take that,” Deuce said as he pried the gun from her fingers and removed the shell in the firing chamber.
“You about gave me a heart attack. No man likes to hear that noise in the dark,” Frank stated. “I take it you’re aware there’s some pretty unfriendly folks around.”
Niki nodded and went to each man and gave him a strong hug. She had known the two wranglers about as long as she had known Deuce and Bob. They were like uncles to her. They had always been kind and patient and kept a close eye on her when seasonal ranch hands were about. She hadn’t really minded the over-protective behavior, which had kept the young men at a respectful distance, since none of the ranch hands could ever measure up to Deuce and she had had little interest in attracting any of their attention.
“Sorry,” she said. “Blame Deuce. He told me to shoot first and ask questions later. It’s been a tough few days. Bernie’s been seriously injured and when I went for help I almost found more trouble than I could handle.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Joe said as he raised his hand to his mouth and coughed. “I’m always tell’n my thick-headed boss here there ain’t noth’n you can’t handle.”
“I’m a convert now. I’ll tell you all about it later, but we were just about to dig into Niki’s famous cookies when you rode up, which sounds a heck of a lot better than talking about my brush with death.”
Niki put her arm around Joe’s waist and led him toward the tent.
“Where’s the limp? If I’d seen it, I’d have known it was you.”
“The Doc hooked me up with a new prosthetic limb this spring. I still won’t win any foot races or dance contests, but I sure can get around better. I still limp a little when it’s cold or when I forget that I don’t need to anymore.”
“Well, it makes you look twenty years younger to have your strong cowboy stride back,” she said as she held him tighter.
Niki remembered the accident as if it were yesterday. She had just turned sixteen and had volunteered to drive to the outer hayfield with Joe’s dinner, excited at any opportunity to drive solo. He’d rolled the tractor and his leg was pinned underneath. He’d been under the tractor for nearly three hours by the time she had found him and was able to get help. There was so much damage from his right knee down and the blood flow had been cut off for so long, that the limb had to be amputated. His first prosthetic leg had allowed him to continue to ride and get around, but with a serious limp.
Joe chuckled. “That’s good to hear. I’d hate to look my actual age. When I hit sixty-five this year, I decided to treat myself to a state-of-the art leg and I’m sure glad I did. Wish I would’ve parted with the coins years ago.”
“A person doesn’t want to take walking for granted. When I first found Papa, he couldn’t feel his toes and I thought he was paralyzed. He can move his toes and legs now, but it sure gave me a major scare.” Niki held the flap back for Frank and Joe to enter the tent and see Bernie.
After the wranglers were satisfied that Bernie was alive and on the mend, they all settled around the campfire. Joe kept trying to suppress a nagging cough and both men looked exhausted, but relieved to be among friends as they began their story.
“We were heading back to the ranch and as we rode close to the cell tower, or whatever they claim it is now, we saw vultures circling overhead and when the wind shifted, the stench was unbearable. We took the binoculars out and saw two men with shovels digging holes and they didn’t have American flags on their shirt sleeves.” Frank bit into a cookie. “We hightailed it off the ridge and circled around to come at the ranch from the south, so we could stay in the cover of the trees lining the stream. When we reached close enough to have a look, there were a half-dozen or so soldiers on the porch and a helicopter in the hayfield. So we figured that until we knew more, we’d ride out and check on Niki and the old man, and here we are.”
Niki handed everyone a steaming cup of cocoa. Having Frank and Joe with them made her feel much better. They were still out-numbered by at least two to one gauging by the amount of soldiers they had seen at the control tower and the ranch, but the odds were much better and she felt less vulnerable.
“We were hoping you two would approach with caution like Niki did,” Deuce said. “I wasn’t sure which route you were taking or even if you’d left the herd yet, so I didn’t see any point in leaving Niki and Bernie alone to go chasing you all over these mountains.”
“Glad you didn’t. It wouldn’t have made any sense to get separated. And after what we saw and smelled at the tower we were pretty cautious.” Joe reached inside his faded denim jacket and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his front shirt pocket.
Joe tapped a cigarette out of the pack and placed it between his dry cracked lips. Cupping his hands, he carefully struck a match and lit the tip and took a long drag, before glancing over at Niki with a guilty expression on his face. He knew she worried about him and her concern touched him. There was no one else in his life that cared about his health enough to be concerned whether or not he smoked. He usually pretended he had quit when she was around, but with everything on his mind he’d slipped.
“I won’t hassle you this time, in fact, under the circumstances I’m darn tempted to bum one off you,” Niki said as she stood and kissed Joe’s stubble-covered cheek. “Though I think a belt from Papa’s bottle would do more good if I could only find it.”
“Bottle, what bottle?” Bernie called ou
t from the tent.
Niki winked at Joe, sat back down by the fire with the cookie tin and listened as Deuce filled Frank and Joe in on everything Bob had told him over the phone and everything that had happened to him and Niki over the past few days. He informed them their plan was to stay put and out of sight until they could reach Bob again and find out if any progress had been made and if any help was on the way.
Joe placed his arm around Niki’s shoulder and pulled her close. She looked into his watery blue eyes and witnessed the concern. He appeared so old, but to Niki, Joe had always seemed old. His face was narrow and heavily wrinkled and held the color and texture of worn leather. He tried to keep clean shaven, because his facial hair always grew in gray, but on the jagged planes of his face, more often than not, the razor left multiple nicks. His hair had been black at one time, but was now thin and streaked with gray. He combed the scattered strands of hair over his bald spot and seldom went anywhere without his old cowboy hat.
“Those bastards are lucky they didn’t lay a finger on our girl,” he said as he flicked the butt of his cigarette into the fire. “Hell hath no fury like a bunch of pissed off ranchers.”
“Amen,” came Bernie’s amused voice from inside the tent.
Niki patted Joe’s knee and suppressed the urge to giggle. He said the darnedest things. Even when he was trying to be serious, like now, his colorful language always lifted her spirits. He had always been protective of her, especially after the accident, and despite his age and handicap, she had no doubt he would go to battle for her without hesitation.
For a moment no one spoke. Niki glanced around and noted that Deuce and Frank were lost in thought, gazing into the flames of the fire. Joe squeezed her shoulder a little tighter and her grandfather had gone silent. Like her, she was sure their minds were focused on the tragedies so narrowly escaped by her and Deuce and the unusual and dangerous situation they now faced together.
“Please tell me you two are heavily armed.” Breaking the silence, Niki passed the cookie tin.
“We’re armed, but I wouldn’t say heavily,” Joe replied. “I’ve got my twelve-gauge and one box of shells. Frank’s got a forty-five and about the same amount of ammo.”
It broke Deuce’s heart to see Niki so focused on such a desperate topic. He hated the fact that she was thinking about weapons and defense, when she should be enjoying her usual summer vacation sketching, fishing and herding sheep with her only family member. He prayed Bernie would pull through and she would experience those carefree times again. But he was proud of her and had been so wrong about her. He wished he could go back in time and recapture all the years he wasted fearing she would let him down. Instead, he’d been the one to let her down.
“It’s been a long day,” Frank said, interrupting Deuce’s thoughts. “We’ll throw our bedrolls over there, so if anyone approaches the tent, we’ll have you covered.”
“Did anyone see you or do you think you were followed?” Deuce asked with sudden concern.
“I don’t think so, but I vote that ‘better safe than sorry’ be our motto from here on out,” Frank replied as he nervously twisted the end of his dark, handle-bar mustache.
“Here, here,” Joe replied as he lifted his cup of cocoa.
Everyone lifted their cup and touched it to the others. Nothing else needed to be said. They would stay together, work as a team and do everything in their power to stay alive until Bob could send help or the crisis ended.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When Niki emerged from the tent, the only person she saw was Joe. His arms were loaded with foot-long chunks of wood for the fire. His gait was a little wobbly, not from his prosthetic leg, but from being extremely bow-legged. A cigarette hung from his lips, the ashes needing to be flicked, but his arms too full to accomplish the task as he strode toward her. He dumped the wood on the ground, plucked the cigarette from his lips, tossed the butt into the fire and smiled at Niki, exposing his missing front teeth.
“Where’s Deuce and Frank?” she asked as she rubbed her eyes.
“They went to try and call Bob. They left me to guard the women and infirmed,” he chuckled.
“That doesn’t make me feel too safe,” Bernie bellowed from inside the tent. “You couldn’t hit the side of a barn at ten yards.”
“That’s why I always carry a shotgun. It’s much more forgiving for those of us who are severely aim-challenged.”
It made Niki feel good to hear her grandfather joking with Joe. She quickly went to his side and did her usual morning check. His color was nearly back to normal, he still showed no sign of a fever and when he held her hand she could feel strength coming back to his grip. Satisfied, she left the two men to talk and went to the creek to wash up and haul water for coffee and dishes.
By the time Niki finished cleaning up and made it back to the camp, Deuce and Frank had returned. They were crouched down on their heels around the tiny fire, voices low, deep in conversation. She could tell instantly the news wasn’t good. She put the coffee on and joined the men.
“Let’s have it,” she said.
“And speak up so we can all hear,” Bernie demanded. “I’m tired of being kept in the dark like a damned mushroom.”
“Bob said they’re still pinned down in D.C., but the Brits should have aircraft carriers within reach of the Atlantic Coast by nightfall and a dozen U.S. Navy ships have made it back to Hawaii and are en route to the West Coast. Some of our South American allies have begun moving north, but are several days behind the Chinese. The consensus back East is that once our allies are fully engaged we’ll be able to quickly gain control of the situation and kick the invaders out of our country. There’s no help on the way for us, though, since the concentration of Iranian soldiers here is minimal compared to what’s happening in the big cities.”
Niki wasn’t surprised. The federal government had always treated those in the rural west as disposable. Nuclear waste storage facilities and missile silos were located in areas to protect the large population densities and to hell with the unwilling participants of the sparsely populated places.
“Can’t say as I’m surprised that we’ve been left to fend for ourselves,” Niki grumbled as she grabbed the coffee pot and started filling cups. “But I guess we should feel fortunate since I imagine we’re more able to take care of ourselves than those in the cities. With supplies cut off they’re probably in a world of hurt and would kill for a fresh trout by now.”
No one responded. She saw a tense look being exchanged between Frank and Deuce, warning her that she hadn’t heard the worst of it. She stopped talking and waited for Deuce to continue.
“As you know, one of the ranchers who went with Bob is Cal Stephens. Cal’s wife, Sarah, called him and said she and their two daughters are being held hostage at their ranch and if the military doesn’t turn over a complete list of all missile silos and the location of the underground launch facility within twenty-four hours the Iranians will start killing one hostage per hour, beginning with Sarah.”
“Oh my God!” Niki gasped. “Is the government planning to cooperate?”
“No. They feel they can’t trade the locations of the remaining missiles and the launch facility, which could potentially save hundreds of thousands of lives, for three lives. In fact, Bob said our military has already deployed several of the missiles that haven’t been located and disarmed by the Iranians. One took out several Russian Destroyers positioned off Cuba. We sent another to Iran demanding their complete, unconditional and immediate withdrawal from the United States and Canada. So far no response from the Iranian government, but the U.S. will deploy another in four more hours if the withdrawal hasn’t begun. Needless to say, without our full resources at our disposal we’re a little hesitant to send missiles to Russia and China with the same demand,” Deuce replied.
“Why don’t we use the missiles to drive the CCIS out of the U.S.?” Niki asked.
“I imagine, being missiles with nuclear warheads, we won’t deploy
them on our soil, except as a last resort.”
“I can’t believe this is happening. Poor Cal must be beside himself with worry,” Niki said, shaking her head.
Everyone remained silent for several seconds, letting the horrible news sink in. Niki acknowledged the government’s decision was valid, but the three lives to be lost were not just nameless faces. Sarah had been there for the Blackburn family when Deuce’s mom died and Niki had spent time with the young girls, Lacy and April, nearly every summer since the girls were born.
“How long ago was the demand issued?” Niki asked.
“About fifteen hours ago.”
“That leaves us only about nine hours to do something to help them.” She looked at her watch. “How long will it take to ride to the Stephens’ ranch from here?”
“About five or six hours and if by ‘us’ you mean Frank and I, you’re correct we need to do something. You and Joe will stay here with Bernie,” Deuce replied.
“I’ll go too,” Joe cut in.
“No offense buddy, but you can’t shoot, your cough might get us spotted and your old horse and new leg will just slow us down,” Frank replied.
“I want to argue, but dammit, you’re right. What good is a sixty-five year old man with a bum leg, a hacking cough, a sixteen-year-old horse and an aim that couldn’t be further off if he was blind?”
Frank patted his friend on the back, but said nothing else.
“When do we ride?” Niki asked.
“You don’t ride,” Deuce replied. “Frank and I will head out after lunch. If we leave here by one o’clock we should be in place before nightfall. We’ll wait until dark and then see what we can do.”
“Listen to me for a change. You can’t take extra horses with you. Leading spares will slow you down. If we’re successful, Lacy and April can ride with you and Frank. Storm is strong enough to carry two adults if they’re Sarah and I. Besides, I’m a better shot than either one of you.”
