Killing Rhinos

by Herb Hughes

  A picture of the desert popped into existence in the view panel. Jack could see Killer and, not too far away, a bloody mess. Killer, fully healed, was standing and waiting patiently. The things Ethan could do were hard to understand, but, in this case, Jack was thankful.

  “Shuttle, land at these coordinates.”

  Ethan touched his finger on the screen not too far away from Killer. A series of numbers popped up at the point where he touched. The numbers changed from red to green, and Ethan removed his finger. There was a plus sign where his finger had been, with numbers extending to the side of the sign.

  During the trip Ethan said little. Jack supposed the explanation he received on the station was the only communication Ethan cared to have with him. It was obvious Jack Wheat was little better than an animal in Ethan’s eyes. There was no need for communication beyond his instructions.

  “We have returned,” Ethan said as the shuttle landed at the exact spot he had indicated. “Your horse is fully healed, standing and waiting on you. Quite a loyal animal.” Ethan gave Jack a quick smile, the first Jack had seen from any of the geneered people, but it was only a momentary flash. His stoic, aloof look returned immediately as he turned back to the panel, touching the red square to shut it down. “Shuttle, open door.”

  “How long have I been gone?” Jack asked.

  “In your terms, half a day. A little less. Now, at the risk of repeating myself, understand that if you try something stupid, we will know immediately. We will be able to reach you quickly. If you do not cooperate, we will process your tissue for future use. Do you understand?”

  Jack stood still and stared the muscular man square in the eye. Neither flinched. Finally, Jack turned toward the door without acknowledging Ethan’s question.

  “For your sake, it would be best if you did understand,” Ethan said.

  Jack walked through without looking back. Agrilot soil felt good beneath his feet. With no further acknowledgment between the two, the door closed and the shuttle lifted off the ground, sliding through the air so quickly it was gone in an eye blink.

  Jack leaned against Killer and patted the horse on the side of the neck. Killer neighed and nudged him, both horse and rider happy to be reunited. It was late in the day, dark quickly approaching. The heat of the desert sun had not shown Bonner’s remains any mercy. The stench was almost unbearable.

  “We’ve got a problem, fella,” Jack said to Killer. “A serious problem. It will take close to three days, but I desperately need to get to Lisbon and talk to Avery. First, though, we need to stop in Wilsey and check on Lobie. We’ll travel all night tonight. We can sleep later.” Killer twitched his ear in agreement.

  Chapter 61

  “Jack!” Dokie shouted. He started to run out of Lobie’s shop, but the stretch of the bandages and the pain in his chest reminded him to move slowly. Still, he was there to shake hands before Jack dismounted. “Am I glad to see you!”

  Lobie Tate and Slim Ryman walked up behind Dokie.

  “I heard you got shot, Dokie. I was worried about you. Looks like you’re getting around pretty good.”

  “A little gingerly, but I’ll be okay. The Doc bellowed at me when I left, but I had all of that hospital bed I could stand.”

  “Can’t keep a good man down,” Jack said with a smile.

  “Or a bad one,” Slim replied with a wink.

  “Listen,” Dokie said, “A fight’s brewing. We got word that McGurke is arming each of his men with repeating rifles. But only his men. The regular rangers are still stuck with homebuilts.”

  “Is he using his men to fight the Rhinos?”

  “No. He’s sending them here. It seems you and I both have a bounty on our heads. Four of his men came into town looking for me a few days back. The people here covered for me. They told them the doc patched me up and I was long gone. But McGurke’s guys snooped around till they found out what Lobie was doing. They high-tailed it back to Lisbon to tell their boss. Slim got back from the second delivery of rifles yesterday evening and said word on the street was that Lowell and all his men are coming to Wilsey tomorrow morning. They want to shut down Lobie’s production and destroy his business. And they want to hang me, of course. They’ll hang you, too, now that you’re here.”

  “We don’t have a chance against them,” Jack said. “Not if they have repeating rifles.”

  “I reckon they’re not the only ones with repeating rifles,” Lobie said. “We’ve got us a whole herd of smithies and wood carvers, about two dozen, and we’ve been a’putting them out hand over fist. Ours are a fair piece better than the ones those guys are making.”

  “Any idea how many men he’s got?” Jack asked.

  “Stan heard it was two hundred, maybe more,” Slim answered.

  “And we’ve got what, four? That’s not good odds.”

  “Well, sir,” Lobie said. “I reckon we’ve got more than that. The guys in the shop will join us. Every single one of them.”

  “And I bet I could find a few more men from Wilsey who’d fight alongside Jack Wheat,” Slim said.

  “Alongside me? Can’t be too many. The last I heard, my reputation was pretty low, damn near rock bottom.”

  “Stan’s paper has made a heap of changes,” Slim said. “Just two editions and he’s turned people’s opinions around. Looks like Davis might win that special election after all. Word is that McGurke is madder than a swarm of hornets, and he wants to shoot anybody in his way. He’s spoiling for a fight.”

  “Maybe we can give him one,” Jack said. “If we let them get to Wilsey, though, innocent people could get hurt, even killed. We’ll need to get down to the valley and stop them before they reach town.”

  “I could get us a lot of fighters in Lisbon,” Dokie said, “But not by tomorrow morning. I wish that stupid telegraph line was finished.”

  “I should be able to round up a couple dozen more men,” Slim said. “We could have as many as fifty.”

  “Good. We’re going to be terribly out-numbered,” Jack said. “So we’ve got to pick a spot that will tip the odds in our favor. Downslope toward Lisbon, the trees go almost all the way to the flat. Then there’s a few hundred meters of open fields on both sides of the road for quite a way before the trees start again. Crop land. We’ll set up our first line of defense at the edge of the trees by making firing stands out of logs and limbs. McGurke’s men will be out in the open and charging uphill. We’ll be behind the cover of the logs.”

  “That’s a mighty fine idea,” Lobie said, “We can pick them off while we’re safe behind cover.”

  “Up to a point, but they’ll have us outnumbered four or five to one. Maybe more. It’s likely that we’ll have to fall back from the first line. We’ll make a fallback line about a hundred meters upslope. When the fighting starts, we’ll have our horses behind the stands with ropes tied to the logs. If we have to retreat, we’ll pull the first line of firing stands over with our horses, so McGurke’s men can’t use them. Then we ride to the backup line and make our final stand there. The logs from the first firing stand will be obstacles to them when they try to charge up the hill.”

  “Great idea,” Slim said. “That should give us a distinct advantage.”

  “We might not even need that fallback stand,” Lobie said.

  “Even if they leave Lisbon at daybreak,” Jack said, “It’ll be well after lunch before they get here. Lobie, you and your men keep making rifles tonight. Work late, but get some sleep. If your guys are going to fight, they’ll need to be rested. Bring everybody downslope early to help with the firing stands. Slim, round up as many men as you can. Arm everyone with a repeating rifle. And plenty of bullets. Send them down as you find them. We need all the hands we can round up to get the stands finished in time. Dokie, let’s you and me get downslope and get to work now, while we’ve still got sunlight.

  By mid-morning the next day, the first firing stand was finished. Dokie and Jack had been joined the previous afternoon by twenty-two men from
Slim’s recruiting efforts. They had trickled in over a period of hours. Early the next morning, twenty-four men from the shop, including Lobie, came riding in and joined the labor. Once the front firing lines were finished, the men stood back and admired their handiwork, but not for long. There was much to be done. They soon began moving upslope to build the fallback stand.

  Not long after they started working again, they heard the clomp of horses on the road, riders coming down the hill. It was a group of eight more men being led by Slim Ryman. Seven of them wore ranger uniforms.

  “Looks like the Wilsey rangers don’t go along with the new Commander in Lisbon,” Slim said as he rode up to where Jack and Dokie were standing. “We’ve got all seven of the local rangers joining us.”

  “The more, the merrier has never been truer,” Dokie said. “Welcome to the fun, guys.”

  “That gives us fifty-six altogether,” Jack said. “We’re still outnumbered by a lot.”

  “But we’ve got cover and high ground,” Dokie said. “And they’re out in the open. We’ll kick their butts!”

  “We sure will,” Slim said. “What do you want us to do?”

  “Give us a hand with these firing stands. You brought so many men, we’ve got to make them longer.”

  As they were finishing the fallback stands, they heard the clatter of more horses behind them, coming down the road from Wilsey. It was Demetrius Strombus and four additional rangers, along with six other men Jack recognized, men from Borderton.

  “Demetrius,” Jack said as they rode up and dismounted. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, but what are you doing here? I hope you’re not here to arrest me.”

  “If you are to be arrested, then we will be arrested with you. We heard there was trouble brewing in Lisbon; that the rangers were being taken over by thugs. We decided to go to Lisbon and give the rangers a hand. But the people in Wilsey told us there was going to be a fight down here. Mind if we join you?”

  “Could be a suicide mission, but you’re more than welcome.”

  Demetrius smiled and tipped his hat as he dismounted.

  “Welcome to the party,” Dokie said. “It’s a good thing Lobie brought some extra repeating rifles. That gives us sixty-seven guns. We’ll only be outnumbered three-to-one. They haven’t got a chance!”

  Not long after lunch, they were finished. There was still no sign of McGurke’s men, so there was little to do. They moved about behind the log walls, checking and rechecking the defenses, trying to cheer each other up, and, the worst part of all, waiting.

  The minutes melted into hours. Still, they waited. Nerves frazzled to a raw edge. Waiting to get shot was so tedious. Then, finally, in mid-afternoon one of the younger men shouted, “Here they come.” It was almost a relief.

  The chatter stopped immediately as men jumped to the stands, peering through the firing holes. Lowell Johnston, in full dress ranger gray, was in the lead as they emerged from the trees in the distance. They had to cover almost four hundred meters of flat ground and straight road before they would start winding up the slopes toward Wilsey. Jack and all the men behind the firing stands were determined to keep them from crossing that last stretch of flat land.

  Although Lowell looked the part of a ranger Colonel, only a few of the men who followed him were in uniform. Most wore street clothes. And they did not ride in formation. They were a mob, all bunched together, as they emerged from the trees on the other side of the field. Group after endless group, they kept emerging.

  “That’s more than two hundred men,” Dokie said dryly. “McGurke doesn’t have that many men.”

  Well over two hundred riders could be seen, and the end was not yet in sight.

  Slim was on Jack’s other side and said, “Maybe he deputized his factory workers, offered them extra pay. And it looks like some of the rangers went over to McGurke. There’s a few uniforms out there.”

  “It takes all kinds,” Dokie said. “They may have gone over so they could get their hands on a repeating rifle. Give us the word, Jack. They’re almost close enough so we can’t miss.”

  “We can’t do it that way,” Jack said. “Not shooting them down like pigs for the slaughter. If they are factory workers, they may not realize they’re on the wrong side. They’re making money, supporting their families. They might think they’re doing the right thing.”

  “There isn’t a person in Lisbon who doesn’t know what McGurke is about now that Stan’s papers have come out,” Slim said, “They know.”

  “Maybe so, but I’m going out to meet Lowell.”

  “Ah, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea,” Dokie said.

  “They have done nothing to us yet,” Jack said. “If we start shooting without any kind of warning, every man we kill is murdered. Sneaking around in somebody else’s business is one thing, but murder? Do you want to be remembered as a murderer, Dokie?”

  “Damn, you ask some tough questions. What’s the plan?”

  “I’ll go out alone, under a white flag. If Lowell comes forward, I’ll try to talk some sense into him.”

  “That’s a good plan except for one little detail,” Dokie said. “There’s no way I’m going to let you go out there alone. I’ll be at your side.”

  “And I’ll be on the other side,” Slim said.

  “Okay, but if Lowell comes forward by himself, I’ll go forward to meet him alone. You two stay back.”

  “Agreed.”

  The three of them mounted and rode out from the cover of the trees. Lowell held his hand up, and the large group behind him slowly came to a halt that rippled back through the entire army.

  Jack waved a white handkerchief over his head. Lowell moved forward by himself. Jack did the same. When they were beside each other, Jack nodded and said, “Why are you here, Lowell?”

  “To arrest you for one.” Then he nodded his head toward the two who had ridden out of the trees with Jack and said, “And Constantine Edwards. Both of you have broken the law and are to be brought to justice.”

  Jack shook his head, looked off into the distance for a moment, then turned back and said, “You know McGurke is going to lose the special election now that the truth is out. When all the smoke clears, all his money is not going to help him. Jonathan McGurke will be the one in jail. Do you want to be in the next cell?”

  “Truth is a relative term, Mr. Wheat. There won’t be a special election. Former Mayor Winston Davis III has been arrested for corruption and is now in jail. In a special session, the city council has selected Jonathan McGurke to serve the remainder of his term.”

  “That likely took a sizable part of his wealth.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “Lowell, you know damned well McGurke is nothing more than a greedy, egotistical, power-hungry madman. He could have saved dozens, perhaps hundreds of lives by introducing repeating rifles around the world, instead of trying to delay it until after the election so he could steal the Mayor’s office from Davis.”

  “I know no such thing, Mr. Wheat. Jonathan McGurke is a prominent citizen of Lisbon and in full control of his senses. His employees worked as hard as they could and only recently made the necessary breakthroughs. Repeating rifles could not have been introduced any sooner.”

  “Even if that were true, you’ve seen what he does, how he intimidates people and uses thugs to enforce payments. Anybody who seriously gets in his way mysteriously disappears. Dokie says you are a decent person down inside. He thinks McGurke has you under some sort of spell. You aren’t deaf, dumb, and blind, Lowell. Are you as guilty as he is? Why do you continue to serve him and do his dirty work when you know what is going on?”

  It was Lowell’s turn to stare into the distance and reflect. A few seconds later he said, “My parents were killed by a Rhino when I was eight years old. I survived but had no other family. I had no home, no money, nothing. I was living on the streets, eating from garbage cans and getting beat up and abused by older kids. I had bruises on bruises. They never healed before
someone else beat me and stole what little food I could find, or shoved me around because they were older and larger and could do it without retribution. One day Mr. McGurke saw me rummaging through his garbage. He brought me into his home, a place that was beautiful beyond my imagination. He fed me the most wonderful meal I had ever eaten. I didn’t even know there was that much food in the world. He didn’t have to do it, but he took me in. He raised me as though I was his own son. No, Mr. Wheat, I will not let him down.”

  “Even if he’s wrong?”

  “Even if he’s wrong,” Lowell said, “But Mr. McGurke is never wrong.”

  Jack looked at the men massed behind Lowell. There were well over two hundred of them. The odds were bad, but there was no choice. Lowell watched Jack’s eyes survey the opposing force. He knew Jack would have far fewer men backing him up.

  “Instead of getting people killed,” Lowell said, “Perhaps you should consider surrender.”

  “Surrender to who? The rangers?” Jack nodded back toward the trees behind him. “We’ve got rangers, too. They haven’t been duped into fighting for McGurke. They’re here to fight against him because they want to do what’s right. If I surrender to anyone, it would be to them.”

  “What’s right would be for them to surrender to us, without fighting. Otherwise, they will be tried for treason. Look around you, Mr. Wheat. There’s more for you to see.” Lowell turned to the right and nodded toward the trees in the distance, to the side of the open field. Jack could see glimpses of men on horseback, riding between and around the tree trunks along the edge of the forest. There was no way to know how many more men were in the woods, but it looked to be a significant number.

  Then Lowell turned and nodded toward the left. “And here,” he said. Jack saw more men moving through the woods at the far end of the clearing on the left side.

  The men on the flanks were some distance away, as the open field was quite large, but they could approach the firing stands from both sides, through the cover of trees. Jack’s heart sank. All their work and preparation appeared to be for naught.