Sam followed Jon’s point to where a mounted rider, a young man, appeared on horseback. Two big dogs followed along behind, tongues lolling. The rider trotted the dark horse across the irrigated field. All decked out as a cowboy, he rode with an elegant grace, like he was part of the horse.
At the gate to the yard, he didn’t dismount, but reached down from the saddle and unlatched it. Sam and Jon watched in fascination as the rider clucked to the horse. The animal backed around and pulled the gate open. The horse then wheeled, the rider pulling the gate back closed behind them as they came through. As a final touch, the cowboy leaned down in the stirrup to latch it again before he rode off to the barn.
Sam recognized the odd protrusion on his saddle: the butt of a rifle. It stuck out just behind the rider’s right leg, easy to reach.
The only people Sam knew who had guns were gangers or MS13—and the worst kind of trouble you could image. That, or they were cops, which—depending on the situation could be almost as bad. He’d been roughed up by cops for just being out on the street.
“You think he did that just to show off?” Shanteel demanded from where she stood in the bunkhouse door.
Sam shrugged. “Looked to me like he does it that way all the time.”
“Sure,” Shanteel murmured through a scowl. “Lazy. Make the poor horse do all the work.” Then she disappeared back inside, muttering something under her breath.
Sam watched her go, fingers of unease stroking his spine like ice.
How would the tougher-than-nails Tappans react the first time one overheard Shanteel say something unkind? That hard, lean, rifle-packing young rider didn’t come across as the kind who’d let an insult pass. How far could you trust a pissed-off young man with a gun? Especially when he lived out here where there was no law?
Looking around at the wilderness, at the suddenly menacing mountains, Sam came to the realization that he and his companions were a long way from anywhere. No cell service, no 911. They were completely at the Tappan’s mercy.
Chain Reaction
The American banking system had safeguards. Most had the required twenty percent cash reserve, and the Federal Reserve Bank would have provided backup. But banking depends on accurate records. With no idea if the balances in the accounts were correct, how could they release funds to depositors asking for a cash withdrawal against their balances?
The FDIC acted immediately and ordered a bank holiday. Every financial institution in the country closed its doors that Friday.
It was the start of a three-day weekend. By the time the banks opened their doors the following Tuesday, the system would be reset, the malware purged, and accounts backdated to before the accounts were corrupted.
Too bad they never got the chance.
— Excerpt from Breeze Tappan’s Journal.
Chapter Six
The crew was called to “supper” that night at six. A long table on the ranch house back porch was set with plates. Sam lingered just long enough to make sure that the students were all present and settled in.
Everyone was bitching because they had no cell service or Wi-Fi. Didn’t matter that there wasn’t any cell service, all of them still carried their phones around and kept checking them every ten minutes or so. Court looked half catatonic.
That feeling of being out of touch stirred a low-level panic down in Sam’s gut. He’d check his phone. The little voice in his head would ask “What am I missing?” and the anxiety would build. It was like having a leg suddenly cut off. So he’d check his phone again.
Sam mentally asked himself: Remember the definition for insanity? Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result?
Dr. Holly watched the students and their phones with an amused pinch to his lips. Sam figured Dr. Holly probably thought of them the way psychiatric staff think of patients in a mental hospital: amused by the ones who can’t leave their rooms without a special blanket or pillow.
Meggan—wearing a print-cotton shirt stuffed into tight Levi’s and an apron—literally burst from the back door with a steaming, flat-bottomed pan of baked chicken and pork ribs. She held the big stainless-steel platter with hot pads as she set it in the center of the table, calling, “You all dive in. Iced tea in the pitcher. Potatoes and broccoli are coming. Hot rolls are in the wicker basket under the napkin. Butter’s in the covered bowl.”
As quickly, she was gone, the screen door slamming behind her.
When the crew had taken their seats, Jon asked, “Where’s Amber and Dr. Holly?”
Sam told him, “Us boss types are eating inside with the Tappans. Some kind of war council.”
War Council? Where had that come from? Kaliningrad, Taiwan, or Texit? All of them hot stories on the news just before the banks cratered.
“So, did you meet Frank and Pam?” Shyla asked as she used a fork to spear a thigh.
“Just a quick ‘Good to meet you’,” Sam told her, avoiding her turquoise eyes lest she think he was staring.
They had watched Frank and Pam from across the yard as the two rode in at the head of a line of horses that were all tied together. While Jon played folk songs from the 60s and a couple of bluegrass tunes, the crew had watched the Tappans climb off their horses and begin what looked like a laborious process of untying saddles, and odd X-shaped affairs on the pack horses.
Meggan burst out again, setting two heaping bowls of potatoes and broccoli on either side of the meat pan.
“You all okay?” Sam asked.
“Yeah, Mr. Crew Chief, sir,” Shanteel said snidely, inspecting the ribs she’d speared.
He followed Meggan through the back door and into the kitchen with its steaming pots, central butcher-block island, and big Wolf stove. He hadn’t seen the refrigerator before, a big two-door Sub-zero. Sam knew kitchen quality.
“This is like, commercial grade,” he told Meggan as she grabbed a bottle of wine from an inset wine rack.
“We outfit,” she said as if it explained everything.
“Outfit?”
She paused, studying Sam as if to determine his motive. “Outfit. People like Evan hire us to pack them into the back country. Like we’re doing for you. It’s extra income. Usually for tours up in the mountains and through the wilderness areas. And then there’s hunting season. That’s where the real money can be made. Eastern hunters will drop a couple of thousand in tips if you get them a big bull. That’s cash. The damn government never knows.”
Sam followed her into the dining room, thinking, tax fraud.
Evan and Amber were seated next to each other, Frank and Pam across the table. Bill sat at the head, an empty chair for Meggan on his right. They were talking about the Chinese landing troops on Taiwan. Bill had watched the news on the TV before supper.
The president had told China to hold position and cease any advances until the Secretary of State arrived in Beijing for talks. In the meantime, she said, the United States was sending two carrier groups into the South China Sea as a deterrent against further aggression.
The Chinese had responded that unless the carrier groups turned around, there would be what they called “irreversible consequences”.
“Doesn’t matter,” Frank was saying. “Outside of a shooting war, there’s nothing the Chinese can do. Sure, they’ve been building their navy, but they don’t have the numbers or expertise to kick us out. They’ll hold position, and we’ll make concessions. In the end, they’ll load up their troops, and Taiwan will have a new government friendly to Beijing.” He smiled thinly. “Death of a thousand cuts.”
“They can sure play us, can’t they? Especially now, with the Texit vote. And California’s passed a ballot, too?” Dr. Holly arched an eyebrow in Frank’s direction. “You were at that last state-wide meeting to call a constitutional convention. After the Texas vote, I’ve heard that there’s renewed interest.”
“So, what’s the president going to do? Take military possession of Texas? Arrest the sixty-four percent of the people who voted fo
r secession? What’s that? Twenty million people?”
Sam took his place next to Amber, directly across from Pam. He smiled at her as he seated himself. She gave him a friendly nod in return. She’d let her brown hair down, and it hung down her back. Like the rest of the Tappans, she was lean and wiry; and she shared that hard-eyed look that left Sam nervous. Even through her light, paisley-pattern shirt sleeves, he could see the muscles in her arms.
Frank, her husband, was definitely Bill Tappan’s son. Square-shouldered, he had those same hazel eyes ringed in brown that seemed to see right through you.
Meggan popped the cork on the wine, poured Bill’s glass full, and seated herself before passing the bottle to Evan.
Frank sipped his wine, then told Dr. Holly, “I was a precinct delegate. Voted against calling for the constitutional convention. Sure, there’s a chance we might get a balanced budget amendment, some sort of restrictions and controls on these damned federal agencies. But the risks are too high. Throw it open like that, as crooked as politicians are? We could have lost a lot more than we gained. Maybe the second amendment, the tenth, and the fourth? Hell, in the internet age, and in the name of ‘National Security’, we might have lost a big chunk of the first amendment as well. We barely scuttled a secession vote as it was.”
“What secession vote?” Amber asked.
Sam had vaguely heard of it, some passing thing in the news, but at that time, Wyoming and its weird, and supposedly backward, politics had been a universe removed from his world and the New York mayoral race.
Frank shifted his gaze to Amber. “That caught most of us by surprise. Wasn’t on the agenda. But the delegations from Campbell, Carbon, and Sweetwater Counties were on the rules committee. When the motion for secession came from the floor, it had to be brought to a vote.”
“What happens when it comes up again? And it will, Frank. You know it.”
“I’ll vote against it.”
“Shit,” old Bill said. “They have no idea. Secession? God, what a mess. And to think I’m hearing this in my lifetime.”
“Just don’t mention it in front of Brandon,” Meggan said. “He’s rabid at the mouth to carve the Rocky Mountain region out of the United States and form some kind of country running from the Canadian border down to the Gulf of Mexico.”
“What if they do vote for it?” Amber asked, tension in her voice.
Frank stared thoughtfully at the dark red wine in his glass. “Say they changed the state constitution, the legislature approved, and we had a referendum. We’d have no national bank, no currency, no treaties with foreign countries, no trade, no passports. Hell, we couldn’t even ship beef to Billings. The hotheads just think if you throw out the feds everything still works the same.”
“As if that witch in the White House wouldn’t drop five divisions of marines on top of us the next day,” Pam said bitterly.
Witch in the White House? Sam tried not to gape.
Bill spread his hands wide. “We’re off the map. Out where there be dragons. But I tell you this: If this country comes apart, you’re really not going to like the consequences.”
“Enough of politics,” Meggan said firmly. “Want to say the Blessing, Bill?”
Oh, God, here it comes.
Nevertheless, Sam bowed his head respectfully.
Bill took a deep breath. “Good food, good meat. Good God, let’s eat.”
“Amen,” Frank said fervently and reached for the plate brimming with chicken.
That left Sam slightly perplexed. He figured he’d be in for sin, brimstone, and calls for God to smite the heathen government in DC, and bless the NRA.
“What do you hear from Breeze?” Dr. Holly asked.
Sam wondered who Breeze was.
Frank said, “She still talks to Brandon on occasion. He says she’s working for an investment firm in south Denver. Rooming with a professor. Haven’t seen her in two years. Hell, for all we know, she’s married with two kids.”
“She’s gotta make her way,” old Bill said easily.
“I looked over the gear.” Frank—clearly uncomfortable about the topic of conversation—changed the subject as he passed the plate to Pam. “I think we can pack it up in one trip. What about the kids? Any of them ride?”
“Not a one,” Amber told him. “If any have been on horseback, it was in a riding park or at a pony ride when they were little.”
“Put ‘em on Shiloh’s string,” Pam said. “He’s a good solid lead. Evan and Brandon can take the pack string, you and I will go first and handle the kids.”
Kids?
Sam heard boots scuffing and, sans hat, the wiry cowboy who’d opened the gate on horseback strode in. A little younger than Sam, he had darker eyes than his father’s, and his face was a mix of Frank’s and Pam’s. The resemblance was uncanny.
“Amber, Sam,” Bill said, “this is my grandson Brandon. He’s sort of the living proof that bad fruit doesn’t fall anyplace but under the tree.”
“Glad to meet you,” Brandon leaned across the table, shaking hands with Amber first, and then Sam. As he did, he looked Sam hard in the eyes, as if taking his measure. So this was what a fiery secessionist looked like? Sam could believe it. Brandon’s callused hand had a texture like sandpaper.
Brandon dropped into a chair, saying, “Got a count on the calves. Everybody’s there. The grizzly didn’t so much as give them a second glance as he skirted the herd. I’d guess him as a five-year-old boar.”
“He hanging around?” Bill asked.
“Naw. Tracked his ass over the divide onto the reservation. I got glass on him. He’d found a dead elk, chased the ravens off, and was filling his belly. He ain’t gonna be back.”
This had to be bullshit. Nobody sane would track a grizzly bear into the wilderness.
But for Amber and himself, Sam could tell that no one found the statement in the slightest remarkable.
“You still seeing that Townsend girl up in Cody?” Evan asked, eyes on Brandon.
The way Brandon grinned in reply, the cute twist it gave to his lips, Sam could tell that drawing women wasn’t a problem for him. “She took off for Laramie to go to school and never come back. Heard tell that she’s working for a law firm in Cheyenne through some sort of college legal training program.”
He took a spoonful of potatoes. “But there’s a gal up in Meeteetsee I’ve seen a time or two. Out from Bakersfield, California. She’s training to be a barrel racer up at the nightly rodeo in Cody. Hell, she might make it. She’s got that pretty sorrel of hers running in the high seventeens.”
“Never know how them barrel racers will turn out,” Bill muttered dourly.
People laughed.
Bill made a gesture, stopped chewing long enough to say, “That’s a family joke. Frank was riding saddle bronc on the rodeo circuit when he met Pam, who was barrel racing. And the seventeens are the number of seconds it takes for a rider to get her horse around barrels in the arena. The lower the number, the better the score.”
Oh. Sam had imagined a girl trying to outrace a barrel. He didn’t think barrels were very fast to start with.
“How’s Celia?” Dr. Holly asked.
That was Frank and Pam’s daughter.
“She’s got a year of high school left. Working in town this summer,” Pam said between bites. “Like her sister. Hates the ranch, so she’s living with friends and working at the Hide Out making buffalo coats and fur hats. They get the occasional celebrity coming through since they make costumes for the movies. If she gets through high school, she wants to go off to California and learn how to be a beautician. She’s got it in her head that once she moves to LA, it’s all going to happen.”
“Might change her mind,” Dr. Holly said. “She’s young.”
Pam gave him a deadly look, and said dryly, “Doc, I was never that young. Even when I was that young.”
“She’s taking after Breeze. The ranch is too dull for her dreams.”
Sam tried to figure out how Br
eeze fit into the family. Older sister?
Frank looked across at Amber, asking, “So, the site. He told you about the cave?”
“Sort of.” She glanced at Dr. Holly. “Evan’s being a whole lot of mysterious about it.”
“Yeah, well, mysterious is a good word,” Pam said, eyes hooded. “Gives me the creeps.”
“Too much taipo in you, Mom.” Brandon took a sip of his wine. “You never listen for the spirits.”
“Taipo,” old Bill translated, “that’s the Shoshoni word for white person. Used to get a lot of Shoshoni up there. Last fifty years or so the Arapaho have pushed them out. Pretty much claimed the Owl Creeks for their own.”
“Don’t even see the Arapaho much anymore,” Frank said, apparently for Amber’s benefit. “Every now and then an Arapaho Ranch fence crew comes by. Other than that they pretty much stay down by Ethete. That big casino they built south of Riverton has changed everything. Hell, half the hands working for the ranch are white guys anymore.”
“Thomas Star said he’d be up sometime next week. That he has a grandson, Willy, who’ll pack him up from the other side.” Dr. Holly reached for seconds on the broccoli.
“Better bring his medicine bag,” Pam said. “That cave might send a shiver down his spine.”
“What’s with this cave?” Amber asked.
Dr. Holly told her, “You can’t understand until you experience it.”
She was giving him the most intent stare, as if trying to see into his soul.
After a pause, Meggan asked, “Frank? Bill says you dropped that check off at the bank last week. You did, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.” Frank lifted an eyebrow. “No doubt about it. Hannah gave us extra biscuits for the dogs.”
“Gotta remember to call them after the holiday,” Meggan told herself.
“Some problem, Meg?” Pam asked.
“Probably just a glitch on Amazon’s part,” Meggan answered.
The Catch
Dissolution: The Wyoming Chronicles: Book One Page 5
