by Bobby Akart
“Dios te bendiga.” God bless you.
Chapter 24
November 27
Nanton, Alberta, Canada
The group came to a stop as they rode over a slight rise in the road when Nanton came in to view. Palmer retrieved the binoculars, which were packed in her get-home bag. The Bushnell compact zoom binoculars had an incredible zoom capability and were easy to focus.
She studied the road and handed the binoculars to Cooper. He grunted and then muttered, “This didn’t take long.” He returned the binoculars to Palmer and then pulled his rifle out of his scabbard attached to the rear of his saddle.
“What’ve we got?” asked Riley.
Cooper responded as he stretched to deliver his rifle to Pacheco. “It looks like the town has closed off access with a roadblock. They’ve got a couple of old pickup trucks blocking the way, and I counted at least three men milling about.”
“That’s what I saw, too. Should we go around?” asked Palmer.
“Let me ride ahead and see what they have to say,” replied Cooper. “It’s time for us to rest for the night, and a hotel room would be better than a barn. While I’m gone, two of y’all ride down these side roads and see what might be available to hole up for the night. If need be, we’ll go around the town.”
“Dang, Coop,” started Riley. “I hope every little podunk town ain’t like this. If they’re buildin’ roadblocks, what are we gonna run into when we hit the U.S. border?”
Cooper nodded and contemplated Riley’s statement. The main highways were the most direct route, but every town could present a dangerous challenge. The realities of travel in the apocalypse just set in. And they were only on day one.
Cooper approached the roadblock with caution as the three men instantly took up positions around the temporary barriers and the pickup trucks, which were parked sideways in the road, nose to nose.
He rode up nonchalantly and tipped his hat to the three men, who were clean shaven. One of the three wore a police uniform. Cooper decided to address the officer, assuming he was in charge.
“How are you fellas doin’? My name’s Cooper Armstrong, and we’re headed back to Texas. I’ll get right to the point, Officer. We don’t want any trouble. We’re looking for a place to stay tonight and some hay for our horses.”
“All right, Mr. Armstrong, straight shootin’ is always the best approach,” replied the officer. We don’t have any power or water. The hotels aren’t taking on any guests. This roadblock is to keep people from coming into town and not leaving through the other side.”
“Well, y’all could escort us through,” said Cooper. “Like I said, we don’t want any trouble nor do we wanna be a burden.”
The man to the officer’s left lowered his weapon and approached Cooper. “I know this young man, Dave,” he said to the officer. “You’re the bull rider, right?”
“I am.”
“My brother owns Cowboy Country Western Store down the road.” The man pointed his thumb over his shoulder.
Cooper sat up in his saddle to look beyond the roadblock. Across the street from a small fighter jet mounted atop a steel pole was a brown metal building that resembled a large Tractor Supply operation.
“Dave, he’s a well-respected young man. He won’t cause any trouble. In fact, brother would put him up for the night if he didn’t mind talkin’ bull ridin’ for a while.”
“We’ve got rules to follow,” started the officer. “You and brother are gonna have to be responsible for them until he leaves in the morning.”
“Um, I’ve got some folks with me,” said Cooper hesitantly. “My younger brother Riley and my sister, Palmer. Also, two of my fellow bull riders from San Antonio. All of us are in the rodeo.”
“Five of you? I don’t know,” said the officer, his voice trailing off as the larger group started to concern him.
“Seriously, Dave. Brother and I will be responsible for them. Their horses can stay in the fenced utility yard behind the store. We’ve got hay, and there’s probably water in the feed troughs from the melted snow.”
“Okay, it’s on you,” said the officer. “I’ll let the chief know what’s goin’ on. Mr. Armstrong, you and your group behave yourselves. I’m telling you this as a courtesy. We’ve adopted a zero-tolerance policy here for looting and other crimes. Our jail doesn’t have the ability to house prisoners and feed them. We’re also not going to let you go. Get out of line, and you’re likely to get shot by one of our officers or one of our good Nanton residents. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir. Like I said, we don’t want any trouble,” said Cooper, who then returned his attention to the man who’d been so helpful. “I’ll be right back with the rest of the group. Thank you, sir.” Cooper tipped his hat and started to turn.
“Sometimes you gotta take a chance and help your fellow man,” he replied.
Chapter 25
November 27
Governor’s Mansion
Austin, Texas
“Governor, I’ve received word that the president’s advisory team has arrived at Lackland,” announced Governor Burnett’s chief of staff. The governor could feel the pressure, as time for making a decision was running out.
“Is everyone assembled in the conference room?” asked the governor as she swung around in her chair and looked out the window upon the mansion’s grounds. If she didn’t know better, it would have seemed like any other weekend morning in Austin. Relatively sparse traffic, only a few pedestrians, and a sense of normalcy except for the Texas National Guard troops surrounding the governor’s mansion with their weapons held at low ready.
For security reasons, they’d relocated her office from the State Capitol to the Governor’s Mansion to minimize her time outside the well-protected confines of her home.
“Adjutant General Deur just arrived, ma’am. He was carrying bundles of maps under both his arms. It was kind of comical, actually. You know, watching him trying to juggle all of that by himself.”
“Trust me, I know the feeling,” said the governor under her breath. She rose out of her chair and followed her chief of staff out of the office. “It’s decision time.”
After exchanging some pleasantries with her closest advisors within the Texas government, the governor began receiving their reports. She planned on saving Deur’s for last, as it was, in her mind, the most important and most likely the determining factor as to whether she moved forward.
Commissioner Crawford of the Texas Department of Banking started the meeting by informing the attendees that both state and federally chartered banks would remain closed until further notice. Their automatic teller machines had been drained of their cash by Saturday morning. In addition, there was a genuine concern that armored car services moving from branch to branch might come under attack.
He further stated that all retailers had converted to a cash or barter system as a method of payment for goods or services. Credit card processing was obviously not functioning due to the nationwide collapse of the internet. With the banks remaining closed, stores were refusing to accept checks. Cash remained king except for certain commodities like weapons, precious metals, and prescription medications.
The word inflation was bantered about, as a concept rather than a quantifiable number. The price of perishable goods had tripled, and nonperishable foods had increased as much as tenfold. They all agreed it was impossible to police price gouging in light of the circumstances.
The Public Utility Commission of Texas announced power had been restored to the remote areas of Texas with their own independent grids now tied to ERCOT. Water and sewer treatment facilities were functioning properly. Any electric or water utilities that relied upon the internet for their operations quickly and efficiently converted to manual systems.
The commissioner expressed concern over retaining workers during the crisis. With grocery stores and gas stations going to an all-cash method of payment, employees in all public works sectors needed to be paid in cash as well.
This so-called rainy-day fund was about to be put to use. The reserves would be used to pay law enforcement, first responders, hospital personnel, and utility workers first. This was considered the critical infrastructure of the state and hence would receive priority.
Welfare payments to the poor would be paid in kind using the state’s stockpile of emergency preparedness food and supplies. Families with young children and the elderly would move to the head of the line. Able-bodied Texans would be assigned jobs to meet the state’s critical infrastructure needs.
Next, the Texas Railroad Commission, represented by Commissioner Ackerson, presented an assessment of the state’s oil and gas industry. In addition to regulating public transportation and the railway system, their oil and gas division worked closely with refineries, liquid petroleum gas companies, and surface mining operators to produce what was most likely Texas’s greatest natural resource—fuel.
Commissioner Ackerson stated the major fuel-producing companies from oil to gas to coal had all raised similar concerns as discussed by his fellow commissioners. They were prepared to work overtime to meet the state’s energy needs, but they required cash to pay their employees and armed security to protect their investments.
Governor Burnett suggested an agreement be reached between the major banks and the fuel industry leaders. The banks needed to loan their cash back to the refineries and miners to keep them in full operation. They would be allowed to charge a nominal rate of interest. Otherwise, the refineries could come to the state for cash loans, but they would be far more limited in availability than what the large banks could provide.
Before the adjutant general provided his report, Governor Burnett realized that at some point, the Texas government would run out of cash. She was thankful for former Governor Greg Abbott’s efforts to repatriate Texas gold reserves from HSBC bank vaults in New York and have them returned to Texas. In 2015, he established the nation’s first ever state-level gold depository.
The action did more than save the million dollars a year charged for storage, it created a safe haven for the state’s gold that could not be confiscated by the federal government, as it had done during the Great Depression under orders from President Roosevelt. Texas had several billion dollars in gold reserves at the end of the 2021 fiscal year.
The governor’s mind wandered toward the establishment of an alternative currency to the U.S. dollar. The currency being traded between retailers and their consumers was probably worth pennies on the dollar. A gold standard needed to be established for Texas during the crisis, regardless of whether she pursued a secession option.
The Texas Bullion Depository could be the state’s functional equivalent of the Federal Reserve. It would become a gold-backed bank. This crisis would enable Texas to establish an honest and sensible monetary system founded on real value, gold, rather than debt-based paper notes conjured into existence by the Federal Reserve. Over time, the good money, gold and silver, would drive out the bad money, the old U.S. dollars backed by the Federal Reserve.
“Governor? Shall I get started?” asked Deur.
Governor Burnett snapped her mind back to the present. Juggling. Lots of juggling.
“Yes, Kregg, please do.”
“Governor, every hour we receive reports from around the state of people pouring across our borders with nothing but the shirts on their backs. We closed major bridges and established checkpoints at highways where the rivers don’t act as a natural boundary, but refugees are streaming in by the thousands.”
“How?” she asked.
“They’re crossing the rivers in aluminum, flat-bottom boats using boards as paddles. Some are swimming. Others are riding mules and horses in remote locations of the Panhandle.”
Governor Burnett raised her hand and Deur stopped speaking. “I get it. What do you propose?”
“Well, I can’t fix how big we are, but I can deploy more assets to act as a deterrent to people crossing our borders from Louisiana, Arkansas, New Mexico, and Colorado.”
“What kind of assets?” asked the governor.
“People. Unemployed people,” responded Deur. “Until we can build a fence around the state’s boundaries, we can hire responsible adults to help police our borders. We’d have to pay them out of the rainy-day fund, or with food, based upon budgetary constraints.”
The governor nodded as she warmed to the idea. People without jobs needed a way to support their families. By employing them, they would be less desperate and therefore not likely to commit crimes to feed their families.
“How would you find these folks, and would they be armed?”
“Good question,” replied Deur. “I would start with the Texas concealed-carry database and move on to our access of the National Firearms Registration and Transfer records provided to my department by the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives. The former would provide a list of trained Texans who’ve shown a reliable propensity to carry a weapon and use it responsibly. The latter database from the ATF would give us a list of weapons owners who’ve passed background checks in the past. We’d simply update that information through our criminal databases.”
“It would be like a small army,” said the governor.
“Yes, ma’am. All Texans would be identified and vetted electronically first, and then approached by our seasoned law enforcement veterans for a face-to-face interview.”
“Sounds like an arduous task,” interrupted Governor Burnett. “How long would this take?”
“By focusing on communities nearest our weakest points along the border, we can minimize the influx right away. The recruitment of these deputies who already have firearms will fill gaps in our border security. Then if we can immediately install security fencing in the high-traffic areas that I’ve identified on all of these maps, we could have the state sealed off within a week.”
The governor leaned forward in her chair and studied one of the maps Deur had rolled out on the conference table. “And who would build the fence?”
“Same concept, Governor. Able-bodied Texans looking for work who’ve shown a propensity for being responsible citizens. We’d start by advertising in communities near the state’s borders, eliminate or accept them to the next level of the interview process through our database information, followed by a final hiring determination based upon the local contractor who will work with them directly in the counties where they reside.”
Governor Burnett nodded her approval. “We provide the concept and funding, then delegate the work to the local county government that is best capable of overseeing the work. I like it.”
Commissioner Ackerson raised his hand. “As you know, I was formerly in the Navy. Kregg, I have a question. What are our rules of engagement along the border? Especially as it relates to these new recruits. Are we giving Texans authority to fire upon fellow Americans?”
Deur glanced at the governor and leaned forward to respond. As he did, the satellite phone, which sat unnoticed in front of her chief of staff, began to buzz. The sudden vibration on the table startled everyone.
At first, the shock of the vibration on the table froze the governor, but then she motioned to her aide to answer it. The room remained silent while she took the call.
“Hello, you’ve reached the office of the governor of Texas.”
After a pause, she said, “Yes, sir, she is here.”
Another pause.
“Yes, of course. Please hold.”
Her aide covered the mouthpiece with her hand, the nervous pressure causing her knuckles to turn white. She leaned over and whispered to the governor, “You’ll want to take this call in private, ma’am. It’s urgent.”
Chapter 26
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br /> November 27
The Armstrong Ranch
Borden County, Texas
The ranch hands were split into groups. A group of four were responsible for bringing the cattle to the grazing fields closest to the ranch. Two sets of two were immediately assigned perimeter patrols. The rest worked with Major on specific ranch assets such as the barnyard, the barns, the garden and points of entry off the local roads.
The ranch house was located on the east side of their nine thousand plus acres, overlooking a bluff where the high plains turned into the Colorado River Basin below Lake Thomas. For perimeter security, two hands focused on the northern boundary along the river and over toward the western boundary just beyond FM 1205.
FM stood for farm-to-market road in Texas, a name that arose during the Great Depression. The Texas highway commission had authorized a pilot program for seven thousand miles of farm-to-market roadways connecting rural communities with population centers to buy and sell farm goods.
FM 1205 divided the Armstrong Ranch in half. A driveway built by Pops decades ago stretched east to west from the ranch house to the western border of the ranch. This enabled vehicles to quickly cross the entirety of the property on a paved asphalt road in all types of weather.
From above, the X created by the driveway and FM1205 created a perfect bull’s-eye in the center of the ranch. From the ground, it was a perfect way to mobilize his hands in case they had to defend the ranch.
Major and Preacher stood in the middle of FM 1205 and looked for a mile in both directions toward their northern and southern boundaries.
“Do we blockade the road, Major?” asked Preacher. “This is the way most folks travel north and south across the county.”
