Next World Series (Vol. 3): Families First [Second Wind]

by Ewing, Lance K.

  “I’m a grill guy, as you know, Janice,” said James. “But I’m not sure I could have done a better job. What’s the secret?”

  “A mix of ketchup and steak sauce,” announced Janice, just poking fun.

  “That belongs on a burger and nothing else,” replied James, now slightly annoyed but in a playful tone.

  “I told you he was serious about his steak,” said a joking Janice to Lauren.

  “I’m just kidding, honey,” she added, looking at James. “I would never do that to your steak or mine.

  “The secret, though, is slow cooking over 1/3 of the coals for four to five hours... Don’t tell the media, though,” she added with a wink.

  James relaxed, feeling bad about his outburst. “How do you like your steak, Billy?” he asked in a jovial tone.

  “I’ve never tried one,” he admitted, “but it smells good.” With only one bite, Billy was a bonified carnivore, asking if they could have steak every night for supper.

  Billy was now settling into his own room, but each of the girls took turns sleeping beside him until he got comfortable being by himself. If it were up to Janice, her son would sleep with her until he was 13.

  James argued that he needed some space and that the girls would keep him from being alone.

  * * * *

  Up at dawn, today was a work day for all.

  Chicken eggs were collected by the children, with the girls showing little Billy the ropes.

  James and a nearly full-functioning Jason checked on the still and then focused on the perimeter fencing.

  Janice and Lauren took to the greenhouses, tending the plants and testing the automated watering and filtration equipment.

  For Janice, this was where she shined. Her years of indoor gardening gave her insight few could replicate on the care of food-producing plants.

  * * * *

  It was determined that James and Jason would erect the greenhouses in Weston, while Janice, with Lauren’s help, would plant the seeds that would eventually feed many in town.

  Sheriff Johnson was feeling content, having disposed of his rival, Mr. Grimes, and in front of the whole town. For a while, he was OK with being the second-in-command, and actually considered Judge Lowry a friend.

  His thoughts were now of grander things. With a competent Sheriff at the helm, does a new-world town even need a Judge? he thought.

  His latest girlfriend was a genuine resident of Weston, having lived here all her life.

  “Judge Lowry can’t even decide what sex he wants to lay down next to at night. How is he possibly qualified to make big decisions over the town?” she would say often. “You’re the one they trust,” she told him. “You’re the one to lead this town now.”

  Sheriff Johnson had stayed true to the Judge, but if he were honest, his loyalty was waning.

  He replayed Judge Lowry’s remarks to James earlier, about it being his town, over and over in his head. Will the next hanging include a masked man that used to be a Judge? he thought.

  * * * *

  While scouting out the new property designated for the town greenhouses, James and Jason were making quite a stir with the townspeople. Most were thrilled with the idea of growing food for the citizens, with only a few openly skeptical about how it would be divided up.

  Sheriff Johnson stopped by to get some face time with his constituents and carefully took most of the credit for the idea.

  “When the town votes for a Sheriff like me and a Mayor like Mr. VanFleet here,” he said to the growing crowd, while putting his hand on James’ shoulder, “well, this is what you get. Several greenhouses to be used to grow food for the entire town all year long.”

  “Are there any volunteers to help?” called out Jason.

  “Nope,” yelled a large man in front. “Just let me know when to come and pick up my free share.”

  The Sheriff recognized him from the last hanging, when he was shouting about Mr. Grimes possibly being the hooded man in the execution line.

  “I forgot about you, big boy,” he said under his breath. “You will surely be the star of my next hanging.”

  “This will have to be a community effort,” James continued, ignoring the last comment.

  “Food will grow, but not without careful guidance and daily monitoring. Anything worth having is worth maintaining,” he added.

  “We will post a signup sheet with various shifts in front of the courthouse for volunteers to start work next week. Rest assured, we will be working side-by-side with you the days Jason and I are in town, until these greenhouses are up and running.”

  Most cheered upon hearing this and seemed eager to help.

  “My jail cells are all empty,” said Sheriff Johnson to James, as they walked back the quarter-mile to the office.

  “That sounds like a good problem to have,” interjected Jason, overhearing the conversation.

  “It’s just too quiet is all. I prefer the conversation of the condemned. And if I’m honest, I kind of miss having Mr. Grimes under my roof. You should have seen his face when he realized where he was. It was priceless, like those old credit card commercials.

  “Your opponent is out of town when the world goes to shit $10,000. He returns a week later, $1. He crosses the sitting Sheriff and ends up hanged in front of the entire town. Priceless! He fought till the end, though; I’ll give him that.” I wonder if the good Judge would be so feisty? he thought, not daring to say it out loud.

  “You’re kidding, of course?” asked Jason.

  “I’m not really a funny man,” replied the Sheriff, with a glare.

  James could tell Jason was getting worked up, and Sheriff Johnson was getting annoyed. Putting a hand on Jason’s shoulder, he said, “We have some work to do. I think Jason and I will spend some time spreading the word about the new greenhouses around town, Sheriff.”

  “Sure, James. It’s always good to give them something to look forward to. Just don’t forget to tell them I donated the land and gave you two the task of getting it done.”

  “We’ll make sure they know,” replied James, now wondering if Jason would blurt out something and cause a scene.

  Headed downtown on foot, Jason asked if he did good.

  “Are you being sarcastic?” asked James.

  “Oh, maybe,” replied Jason. “Or maybe I just have a better handle on the big picture now. I’m pretty sure the Judge and Sheriff will have a showdown soon, and we will eventually have one as the victor for control of the town.”

  “I think you’re spot-on with that,” James replied with a sigh.

  “I’m not sure the good Lord will let this abuse go on for too much longer without sending us into the lion’s den with spears,” James continued. “Our job now is to win the support of both the city council and the townspeople. When it goes down, we will have the proper backing to see this town move forward and prosper once again.”

  Weston Grill and Tavern was hopping today, leaving James wondering how many of the townsfolk could afford to buy a meal.

  “We take certain items on trade days,” said the owner of the restaurant. “Everyone has something valuable in their possession. Maybe it’s not worth what it used to be, but I still find value in certain things. This watch is a genuine Rolex, kept in a Friday cage, I’m told.”

  “I think you mean Faraday cage,” replied James. “It just keeps things from getting zapped. How do you know it’s real, though?” asked James, not wanting to be rude but genuinely curious, having never seen one up close.

  “Well,” said the restaurant owner, “it can be tough sometimes to spot a fake. Here’s what I look for,” he added, handing James the watch. “What do you notice?” he asked.

  “It’s impressive,” replied James. “It feels heavy and solid.”

  “What about the second hand? Is it ticking or sweeping?”

  “Sweeping, I guess,” replied James.

  “Exactly! All true Rolexes have hands that sweep and don’t tick, although there is a school of thou
ght that the ticks are so fast that it appears like a sweep. The last and most important thing is removing the bracket to view the serial numbers at either end. It’s still not 100% accurate in spotting a fake, but if it’s that good of a knockoff, then what do I care anyway?” he said, laughing.

  “So, they trade a Rolex for one meal?” asked Jason, sounding annoyed.

  “No, no. Don’t worry; we are trading fairly. The former owner of this watch has quite a few prepaid meals in his future,” assured the restauranteur. “Who knows, this watch may be worth a few steers down the road,” he joked.

  Loud voices came from the outdoor patio as a group of maybe 25 men and women were apparently arguing. Three of the town council members were there, with one being a veteran member and the other two new. James could hear that the topic was Mr. Grimes.

  The two new councilmen were half drunk by the looks of them and engaging the rest with conspiracy theories, although surprisingly accurate James and Jason concluded, even down to the false-flag explosion at the last trade days.

  The veteran councilman was quiet and distanced himself physically from the other two.

  “Why, there’s the Mayor right there,” one of them spat, slurring his words. “I’m sure he can tell us all what really happened.”

  “Councilmen,” said James in a commanding voice. “I think it’s time you went home. We have a lot of work ahead of us to ensure the survival of this great town, and this type of behavior is not a good start.”

  Sheriff Johnson pulled up in his official truck, only hearing the last words from James.

  “What’s going on here, gentlemen?” he asked. “Can I help you two with something?” he asked the councilmen.

  “No. I mean no, sir,” one of them replied, stammering.

  “Stop by my office, both of you, first thing in the morning,” he added, as the two left the restaurant in a hurry.

  “What do you know?” he asked the veteran councilmen.

  “I only know that I’m not a part of their opinions about you or this town,” replied one of them.

  “Let’s take a ride,” said the Sheriff to the terrified councilman.

  James and Jason were successful at quickly turning the conversation to the greenhouses and new food supply, also getting the restaurant owner’s interest.

  When they left 30 minutes later, everyone had forgotten about the earlier conversation and were now talking planting strategies, with the old-timers leading the way.

  Sheriff Johnson drove the veteran councilman back to the station, grilling him on what happened at the restaurant. After a full confession regarding the two new posts, the Sheriff told him to have them at his office first thing in the morning with their resignations in hand.

  “I can’t have elected city men publicly intoxicated in my town. I need people I can trust around here,” he said. “Can I trust you, councilman?”

  “Yes, sir, without a doubt.”

  “What do you think about James and Jason?” the Sheriff continued.

  “Well, I’ve known James for a long time, and he’s a straight shooter. I’m not sure about the other guy, though.”

  “I want you to be my eyes and ears out there. Can you do that for me?” asked the Sheriff.

  “Yes, of course, Sheriff. You can count on me.”

  As he left to deliver the news to the newly elected men, he was happy just to be leaving in one piece.

  * * * *

  Early the next morning, the new councilmen arrived at the Sheriff’s office.

  The first one, apologizing, placed a folded resignation letter on his desk, quietly walking out the front door.

  The second cited a list of reasons a councilman may be removed from his elected post. He clarified that public intoxication was not among them. “You’re stuck with me, at least until the next town election,” he said, laughing as he headed towards the front door.

  “Stop and on your knees,” commanded a red-faced Sheriff, not believing the gall of this man to defy his orders in his own jailhouse.

  Drawing his Glock 22 from his right hip holster, it took everything he had not to shoot the man in the back.

  Sliding an equal pistol across the smooth tile floor to him, Sheriff Johnson gave instructions.

  Holstering his own weapon, he continued. “I’ll make this fair. The first one down after a count of three wins.

  “One,” he said, as the councilman begged.

  “No! No! I don’t want any part of this.” Gone was the smug man from just a few minutes ago.

  “Two,” said the Sheriff, as the man began to sob.

  “That’s enough, boys,” called Judge Lowry, coming through the front door.

  “Stand up, son,” he said to the councilman.

  “Sheriff, I can see you’re flustered. Did you know that anger and sobbing are only slightly different? Both are uncontrolled emotions that don’t move my town forward. Are you going soft on me?”

  “No, sir. I’m OK. Just got upset is all,” replied the Sheriff, shocked at himself for explaining his behavior to another man, even the Judge.

  “I won’t let you kill him,” said Judge Lowry, “but I’ll let you lock him up for a while. Let’s check on the townsfolk and make sure they know about my greenhouse plan. I may even buy you breakfast.”

  * * * *

  James and Jason had the day off, at least from official town duties.

  A rancher is always working, minus a few hours on Sunday for church. The girls were excited about going to church this coming Sunday, as they had not been in quite a while.

  For Billy, it would be his first time attending any church, and he could hardly wait. Everyone picked out their best outfits, with Billy still in need.

  Janice met up with a close neighbor, only a few ranches down, that she hadn’t seen in a while. She remembered her having two young sons a few years ago and stopped by her place for a chat.

  The woman had three nearly full bags of clothes in Billy’s size.

  “How much for all these?” asked Janice.

  “Oh, they’re hand-me-downs. You can just take them.”

  Janice, always trading fairly and knowing the woman could use some help, traded a good amount of beef, eggs, fresh vegetables, and honey.

  Billy was happy with the new old clothes and felt more comfortable each day. James and Janice made a point to talk about his father every day, not wanting him to forget. It was the perfect match. Billy needed a caring mommy and daddy and James and Janice needed a sweet little boy to love and raise.

  The girls constantly fought over who would be sleeping next to, or playing with, little Billy. Chance, now on the mend, took turns sleeping in the kids’ rooms most nights.

  * * * * * * *

  Chapter Six

  Raton Pass, New Mexico

  With everyone back at camp, congratulating Mel on the bridgework, Tammy was the most relieved. She finally had something she really wanted and didn’t want to lose it all in an instant.

  The topic on everyone’s mind now was the next step for our group.

  For this, we had every adult in attendance, including Mike and Sheila.

  “There are a few ways to look at this,” I began, getting everyone’s attention.

  “This is only the halfway point to Colorado, and the rest of the trip has to be done in the summer months. The winters can be harsh here and are not conducive to traveling as we are. So, we either leave soon or wait an entire year. We have obstacles either way,” I added.

  “First, we know there are at least 20-30 people across the downed bridge, and some with firearms.”

  “Unless the soldiers disarmed the citizens,” called out Jake.

  “Exactly,” I agreed, “which is likely, considering their MO.

  “The only way out with the trailers is through the river, where we came in, and back across the ten miles of potentially hostile roads to get to the main highway again. There is the barricade at the end we are supposed to have a lifetime passage through, although tha
t can change at any moment.

  “Second, the group from Topeka, Kansas, is massive, we believe, and growing every day. They will likely travel ten miles from this very spot over Raton Pass and plow a hole through any city or town that the I-25 highway intersects.

  “They will no doubt be moving slowly, as many of the people they add to their group will be walking. We are looking at about 285 miles to Saddle Ranch. At 3 miles per hour for 8 hours a day, they could make it in about 12 days walking. Add in a couple of weeks for unseen issues, with roadblocks or other hostiles along the way, and we’re looking at a month.”