by Bobby Akart
“Gentlemen, sit,” said Secretary Gregg with a gruff. He was in no mood for small talk on this evening. He was already irritated that Yancey was out of the country when all of this went down. It had been a long thirty-six hours waiting for this conversation to take place.
Yancey attempted to speak first. “Now, Monty, I understand you’re upset, as am I and, of course, Carl. All of us are disappointed that we didn’t take him out. But we all knew the possibility was there.”
Secretary Gregg raised his hand, directing Yancey to stop. “I thought you had confidence in these men.”
“We did. They’re two of our best operatives. They’d performed admirably in the—”
“Failed this time, didn’t they?”
“Hold on, Monty,” interrupted Yancey. “We all knew of the possibilities.”
Braun added, “Monty, what happens next is only conjecture. If the men were captured, then I’m sure Kim Jong-un will tell the world what the plot was. You know, that Western powers led by the evil United States were planning to assassinate Dear Leader. We’ve already started a disinformation campaign to point fingers at the South Koreans, or even within his own ranks.”
Secretary Gregg shook his head. “Oh, sure, the fellow from Texas was there, too, remember? How do you explain him?”
“His cover had him traveling under German documents,” replied Braun. “There are no ties to us whatsoever.”
“Yeah? Is he gonna start sprechen Deutsch when they’re ripping his fingernails off or, when that doesn’t work, they begin to chop them off altogether.”
“They’re trained,” interjected Yancey.
“Nobody can be trained to withstand that!” yelled Secretary Gregg. “This ain’t Hollywood.”
“Let them learn the truth,” Yancey countered. “It’ll just be treated as spin that every government will denounce. Besides, what’s Kim gonna do about it? He’s huffed and puffed for years and he’s yet to blow our door down.”
Secretary Gregg stood and walked to his desk. He picked up a letter opener and rolled it through his fingers. “Here is one such possibility. World war three. Nukes flying all over the place. Fried women and children from Los Angeles to right here where we sit. Here’s the problem. The president thinks she’s a diplomatic genius. She can already envision her chapter being written in common core history books for the rest of eternity.”
“I don’t think—” interrupted Braun before Secretary Gregg shut him down.
“I have zero leverage over her when it comes to a first-strike option. She thinks she’s won. No doubt she’s already planning a state dinner to host that fat kid. The whole idea was to dissolve the Kim dynasty or set us up to fight a war in Asia, not here on American soil.”
Braun continued his attempts to placate Secretary Gregg. “Monty, we’ve all reviewed and analyzed Kim’s words yesterday. Nothing would indicate that he has any intentions of attacking us. The only thing out of sorts was the fact his sister was absent from the festivities and his new goon stood by his side.”
Secretary Gregg slammed the letter opener down, sticking it into his antique desk. For a moment, the vibration of the brass knife shook like a metronome.
“I saw it in his eyes, gentlemen! I know the look and the feeling. He thinks he’s invincible. He’s dodged the proverbial bullet.”
Yancey stood and raised his hands to calm Secretary Gregg. “Monty, all is not lost. We can still make this work to our advantage. There are other ways to accomplish—”
Secretary Gregg placed both hands on his desk and growled at his accomplices.
“Let me explain something to you both. Kim Jong-un now thinks he’s invincible. He’s Teflon! His sister is probably dead, and the presence of his new state security chief was a very clear message to this old soldier. If we weren’t at war before, we are now. Make no mistake, gentlemen. He’ll make his move. We won’t know from where or how, but we’ll certainly know when!”
Chapter 57
November 21
Armstrong Ranch
Borden County, Texas
The aroma of hot apple pie found its way into Cooper’s nostrils as he came bounding down the stairs. The family planned on having Thanksgiving dinner together before the rodeo kids pulled out for Calgary. As he hit the landing, he glanced through the front windows. The sun was up, revealing a blanket of frost that had formed on the ground overnight. He hoped an approaching weather system wouldn’t slow their trip to Canada.
Palmer was walking her horses with one of the stable hands. Undoubtedly, she’d have their hooves cleaned and well fed before they were loaded into the trailer. Major offered up the use of his Ford F-450 pickup for the trip. It had greater towing capability than Cooper’s truck, which was necessary to pull the larger horse trailer filled with hay and three quarter horses.
Cooper agreed to be Riley’s hazer during the steer-wrestling competition. The cowboys were very territorial at Calgary when it came to sharing the local hazers. Riley acknowledged that he’d be at a slight disadvantage with the less-experienced Cooper as his hazer, but he said he’d rather lose with his brother than share money with strangers.
“Momma, I’ve got to have a taste of somethin’,” said Cooper as he entered the kitchen. He reached his hand out to snap off a piece of the apple pie’s crust. It never got closer than twelve inches before Miss Lucy smacked it with a wooden spoon.
“Hey, that hurt!”
“It should,” she said with a laugh. “Consider it a warning shot. If you dig into anything else in my kitchen, the next one will be on the top of your head!”
“Jeez Louise, Momma. You’re awful awnry this morning.”
Cooper found his way to the coffee pot and poured the morning brew into an insulated travel mug. Lucy glanced over at his choice of mug.
“Do you want me to brew another pot and fill a thermos for the road?”
“Heck yeah! The caffeine will help me drive late into the night,” he replied with a grin.
Lucy slipped the pie and the cooling rack out of the way and walked over to the sink. She began to rinse her hands off and then stopped. She dabbed her wet eyes with a towel.
“Momma, I’m sorry,” said Cooper apologetically. He quickly moved to her side and put his arm around her shoulder. She sniffled again and wiped her eyes dry.
“No, honey, I know you’re kiddin’. It’s just, I don’t know, this time I’m worryin’ more than usual.”
“Momma, is it my head? You talked to the doctor yourself on the phone. I’m good to go.”
“No, Coop, it’s not that. Well, it is partly, but I just worry about you three when you have to travel so far from home. It’s a long way to Calgary. You’re towin’ that big trailer through the Rockies, with a storm comin’.”
Cooper turned his mother toward him and smiled. “We’ve allowed ourselves plenty of time to get there. This storm is way out in the Pacific. It probably won’t hit until Friday anyway. Worst case is we have to stay another day until it clears out. I promise we’ll be safe.”
Lucy nodded and sniffled again. She wiped her tears for the last time that morning and began to laugh at herself. “Coop, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve had a weird feeling for days.”
“About our trip to Calgary?”
“No,” she replied as she patted him on the chest. She went back to readying their dinner. “At first, I thought it might have been Duncan, but I’m not sure.”
She opened the oven door and began to pull out the turkey. Cooper stepped in to help.
“Let me, Momma,” he said as he donned the oven mitts. She readily stood to the side. “Have you heard from him? I kinda miss him.”
Lucy looked at her son after he made this statement and smiled. “No, but that’s not that unusual. When he gets an assignment, he goes dark, as he calls it, for weeks at a time.”
“Is Daddy okay?”
Lucy smiled and nodded as she slid two trays of rolls into the oven. “Yes, fit as a fiddle. Your daddy g
ets anxious about what’s going on in the world, and it’s not paranoia.”
“He does focus on the news a lot. It seems to me politicians are always at each other’s throats, and evil countries are always tryin’ to rattle our cages. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember paying attention to the news. Nothing changes in Washington, and world war three hasn’t started. I don’t see any sense in gettin’ worked up about it.”
Lucy touched Cooper’s cheek and took the oven mitts off his hands. “I’ve noticed the happier your father is with his life, especially since retirement, the more concerned he’s become about catastrophic events that are beyond our control. The way he’s explained it to me is he’ll be danged if some solar flare or nuclear war or plague is gonna bring harm upon this family.”
Cooper laughed. “He’s said the same thing to me in not so many words. I appreciate that, you know. I’ve always felt like the Armstrong Ranch could take care of its own, no matter what’s hurled in our direction. It’s kinda the Texas way, you know.”
Lucy began removing the fine silver and cloth napkins from a hutch at the end of the spacious kitchen. She retrieved the carving utensils from a drawer and set them on the kitchen island.
“We don’t admit this to others, but we do agree somewhat with Governor Burnett on these things. For decades, the politicians in Austin have adopted a Texas-first policy. They believe in what’s best for Texans. I agree. Let other states take care of their people; we’ll take care of ours.”
“It’s worked so far,” said Cooper.
“What’s worked so far?” asked Major as he entered the kitchen with another pie in his hands.
“Nothin’, dear,” said Lucy as she greeted him with a peck on the cheek. “What do we have here?”
“Preacher baked the kids one of his signature chocolate pecan pies for the road,” replied Major. Then he laughed as he presented it to Cooper. “He didn’t want them to go hungry.”
Cooper laughed and then asked, “Speakin’ of which, Daddy, you reckon we could get a little food and gas money for the road. You know, there’s a storm comin’ and you don’t want us to eat the horses if there’s a problem, right?”
“Cooper Armstrong!” protested Lucy as she went looking for her wooden spoon. Cooper ran around the back side of the kitchen island for protection, where he earned a playful slap to the back from his father.
“Son, I oughta hold you down while your momma gives you a proper whoopin’.”
“I was just kiddin’,” said Cooper with a sense of relief as his dad loosened his grip. “But y’all know how Riley eats. He’ll blow our budget with us on the road for nearly a week.”
A still half-asleep Riley entered the fray and wandered toward the coffee maker. “Don’t talk about me, Coop. You eat plenty yourself, and then you get gas, which practically runs me and Palmer out of the truck.
“Don’t you kids stink up my truck,” Major demanded. “And don’t track a bunch of manure into it either.”
Palmer could be heard kicking the frost and dirt off her boots as she entered the family room. “Whoa, this house smells better than Cracker Barrel!” she exclaimed from the other room.
“Don’t you insult my cookin’, young lady,” said Lucy. “Come in here and help your brothers set the dining table. It’s time to eat.”
“It’s not even eight o’clock,” said Riley, who was gradually coming to life after his first cup of coffee.
“It was my idea,” said Cooper. “I wanna get us on the road so we can be in Montana by Wednesday. Thanksgiving traffic will be the worst on Wednesday, except near the border where nobody would be goin’ anywhere ’cause it’s too far to get there.”
“Doesn’t matter to me. I’m starvin’,” said Riley.
*****
The Armstrong family had gathered at the table and held hands as Major said the blessing.
“Our Father in Heaven, we thank you for your blessings, for our family, and our friends here at Armstrong Ranch. We ask that you watch over and protect Duncan as he does his duty in a faraway land. May you please protect him and deliver him home to his family safely.
“We ask that you consider wrapping your angel’s wings around Dallas as he serves you in Heaven, God rest his soul.
“We give thanks for the bountiful food you’ve provided us on this Thanksgiving, and the loving hands that have prepared it.
“We give thanks for our lives, our freedoms, and our country in these times of turmoil. Today, as we partake of this food, we pray for health and strength to carry on our lives as You would have us.
“This we ask in the name of Christ and our Heavenly Father. Amen.”
“Amen.”
After a brief moment of silence, the table erupted in praise for Miss Lucy’s cooking. She’d prepared all of the Armstrong family favorites—turkey and stuffing, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, cornbread dressing, gravy, green beans, sliced cranberry, and apple pie.
Plates were loaded, serving utensils made contact with serving bowls, requests to pass dishes were exchanged, and the chatter of the Armstrong family filled the dining room. It was a scene that would be repeated in millions of households on Thanksgiving Day as people celebrated a uniquely American holiday.
For some, it was the start of the holiday season culminating with the celebration of a New Year. It was a time to reflect on years past and to make plans for the future. Emotions ran high. Memories, both good and bad, were recalled. But in the Armstrong family, it was about giving thanks for the blessings God had bestowed upon them.
Without saying it, this Thanksgiving moment was about strengthening their resolve to support one another as a family. To focus on protecting the ones they love. To mend and heal old wounds. And to be ready for the dark clouds that might come their way.
Families were like the branches of a mighty oak tree. They might grow in different directions. They might bend, but they didn’t break. No matter what, the Armstrong family, like the roots of that oak tree, remained as one.
Chapter 58
Thanksgiving Day
Armstrong Ranch
Borden County, Texas
Lucy disconnected the call and settled back under the blanket with her husband. The fire was warming the room, and they had a rare day of doing nothing together. The ranch hands were given the day off to spend with their families. Palmer had called to let them know they’d arrived safely after staying an extra night on the road in Great Falls, Montana. Major pledged to avoid finding unnecessary menial tasks to do around the ranch.
The Macy’s Day parade had just ended, and Major flipped the channel on their DirecTV system to Fox News. Despite the Thanksgiving holiday, the news never stops.
Fox had talking heads debating whether the United States should attack North Korea with a preemptive strike. A member of the British Parliament argued against the action, stating U.S. allies would frown upon the escalation of hostilities without exhausting all diplomatic options. He also said European allies might not necessarily get involved on the United States’ behalf if Washington initiated a first strike.
On the other side of the political spectrum, a former Marine colonel argued a fully nuclear-capable North Korea was a threat to everyone, including London. He urged the president to act now, and decisively, before North Korea caught us off guard. He felt the U.S. military was strong enough to go it alone if necessary.
“They have this same debate every day,” said Lucy.
“It’s a no-win situation for us,” added Major. “I can’t fault the president. She’s had this dumped in her lap, just like all the other presidents before her. I suspect she’ll try to find a way to maintain the status quo and pass Kim Jong-un along to the next occupant of the White House.”
Lucy pointed at the television. “How about that British guy? He said they may not help us if we go to war with North Korea. You don’t pick and choose when you stand by your friends, in my opinion. We’d help them if the roles were reversed.”
Major sighed as he turned the volume down. “It raises an interesting point, which has been a part of our political conversation for years. We began to adopt a nationalistic approach to things, which I’m all for. As a Texan, I really don’t know any other way. But would we turn our backs on a friend in need if they asked for help?”
“Who do you mean by we?” asked Lucy. “Are you referring to the United States, Texas, or the Armstrong Ranch?”
“Well,” said Major with a pause, “I guess you could apply the concept to all three. If France attacked Russia and asked for our help, should the president send in our troops, putting them at risk?”
“I don’t like the French, so I say no,” replied Lucy defiantly.
“Okay, Miss Lucy, bad example. What about the British?”
Lucy again pointed to the television. “Not after what that fellow just said.”
Major’s chin dropped to his chest and he chuckled. “Miss Lucy, you’re messin’ with me, right?”
She laughed and snuggled closer to him under the blanket. “Yes, in a way, I guess I am. I see your point. We’ve pledged to stand by our allies in Europe, as well as Israel, Japan, and South Korea. If we’ve got their backs, then they should have ours.”
“Fair enough,” replied Major as he mindlessly played in her long hair. “Now, if it was a country we don’t deal with very much, like Romania, and they attacked Russia, whadya think?”
“Not our problem. You’re on your own.”
Major sat up higher on the couch. He was enjoying this back-and-forth. “Let’s think about Texas for a minute. You know how Marion feels about the whole Texas strong, Texas free thing, right?”
“Yes, and I agree with her.”
“Okay, what if New Mexico didn’t stockpile salt to melt the snow on its roads in the mountains. Should Texas share its salt if it meant a lot of Texas roads couldn’t get cleared?”
“No,” replied Lucy. “They should have planned ahead. You know, like the ant and the grasshopper. The ant spent his time during the summer gathering food for winter when there wouldn’t be any. The grasshopper bounced around and played music with his legs all day. When winter arrived and the grasshopper came to the ant begging for food, the ant just shrugged his shoulders in disgust and sent him away.”
