My awareness slid into the device like it was meant to be there all along. Instinct seemed to slide over the climate controls, computer systems, automated crafting, systems, and… door. It was like opening a fist. The big black door behind me swung open.
Three sharp gunshots rang out in the distance.
The shots echoed into nothing and were followed by a silence so heavy it darn near made the dirt sit up and take notice. My boots felt like they were rooted to the ground. The big metal door hung wide open, darkness greeting me there. But could I go? Was Ben in trouble? Were those warning shots? What if someone had tracked us down and the young rancher was fighting for his life? What if he needed me? Wouldn’t there be more shots?
I tapped my earpiece and tried to call Ben, but failed to get any kind of connection.
What if he was already dead and in serious need of vengeance?
My jaw hardened. This was a mission. Back in the days of the war, if I was on a mission, I’d never falter. I’d never hesitate, because I knew that those who were doing their part to watch my back could be depended upon to do just that. Tucker had been the best among them. Used to be he was trustworthy. Turning back to help him and ignoring my own mission would have been a betrayal of the trust he’d put in me.
But Ben wasn’t a ranger. No matter how I turned it around in my head, gunshots meant that he needed me. Everything else had to wait.
As I sprinted down the choked mesquite trail, I tried to figure it in my head. Had those been shotgun blasts? I didn’t think so. They were too high, too focused. Branches raked across my face, even though I tried to block most with my arm. I drew my sleek pistol and touched the line that activated the laser sight.
When I saw who was there, I lowered my pistol.
Two deputies stood near a cruiser, their backs to me. Ben was on his knees in front of them, facing away. His hands were interlaced behind his head. One of the deputies was shouting at Ben, furious about something. From where I walked, I could see blood on the deputy’s shirt. Ben’s gun was on the ground a few meters away.
I gave a sharp whistle, but emerged walking fast in their direction.
Both deputies looked my way. One of them was Deputy Green. The other one wasn’t familiar to me. I wondered how many poorly trained rookies there were out there. Green jammed his rifle into Ben’s back, but the other guy pointed his at me.
“Gentlemen.” I didn’t slow my pace.
“Stop right there, Crow.” Green scowled. “This don’t need to get messy.”
I didn’t slow down. I’d already covered half the distance to the deputies. “The boy’s no concern of yours, fellas.”
“He shot at us,” said Green.
I stopped walking. “Ben,” I said, “why the hell did you shoot at them?”
“They were on my land.” Ben’s response was sullen.
“And how exactly did you expect that to turn out?”
He shrugged.
“Listen here,” said Green. “You drop your weapon or Elliot here will put a bullet in you.”
Elliot fingered the trigger.
Only a few meters separated us, and I was sure that before Elliot got up the nerve to shoot me I could shoot him. Twice. But there wasn’t going to be a damn thing I could do for Ben. Deputy Green had been shamed. Shame is a dangerous emotion in a man with a gun. Shame’s near as dangerous as rage and by the look of it, Deputy Green had a nice helping of each.
“Takes a brave man to wear a star,” I said, my voice low and slow. “Doesn’t take clever or good, but it sure as hell takes brave.”
I lowered my weapon to the ground and placed it gently in the wavy grass. In the distance, on the path back to the ranch, I saw the lone longhorn making its way closer. I squinted at it for a minute, but it was far enough away that it didn’t matter.
“Elliot,” I said, “you’ll be wanting to take your finger off that trigger. It’d be a shame to shoot an unarmed man. In fact, I’d be mighty disappointed to know I’d been shot by accident.”
Elliot glanced at Green, who nodded. He slipped his finger off the trigger but kept it close. Beads of sweat ran down the man’s forehead and dripped right into his eyes. He blinked it away.
“Now, Deputy Green,” I said, “it’s your turn. Please remove your weapon from my friend and point it at me. I’m not going anywhere, and he’s unarmed. Good. Now, Ben, stay in Green’s field of vision and don’t…”
There was a vibration that I felt in my boots. A rhythmic pounding getting steadily stronger. I squinted again down the trail.
“Ben, would you say that the longhorns you have here are particularly aggressive?”
Ben shook his head and looked at me like I was stupid.
“Prone to frolicking?”
“What?”
“Would you say they’re prone to a good frolicking run from time to time?” I took a step backwards.
Ben’s eyes got wide. He craned his neck and saw what I was talking about.
Green wasn’t having any of it. He took a step forward and jabbed his rifle in my direction. “On you knees, then,” he said. “We’ll do your e-cuffs right this time.” He reached into a pocket and took out one of the sleek little orbs. He thumbed it, activating the device.
The longhorn disappeared behind a rise. It was close now, and coming fast. Its thundering hoof beats were shaking the ground, making pebbles dance. Elliot looked around nervously, but Green was not allowing any distractions.
Green wanted me to drop or some such, but all I could think of was the thousand kilos of quality Texas beef headed our way.
The beast let out a deep bellow and crested the hill. The sound was fury and pain all mixed up in a roar that shook my chest. Green and Elliot turned, got off a few shots, which didn’t seem to slow the thing at all. The longhorn lowered its head and charged their cruiser.
Horns slammed into the car, sending it screeching sideways and flipping it over. The monster shook its massive head.
“Run!” I gestured madly for the deputies to get out of the way. Green did as I said, bolting straight for the mesquite.
Elliot stood his ground, firing rapidly without any real consideration to aim. He hit plenty of times, but it did no good other than to anger the already furious beast.
Ben scrambled to his shotgun and snatched it up. He raised it at the beast.
Another furious bellow. Mad eyes focused on Elliot and it charged.
I dove at the deputy to pull him out of the way.
One horn cracked into my metal arm, sending me spinning. The other pierced Elliot’s sternum, passing through him like a shish kebab through an onion. It shook him hard, tearing flesh and bone apart until Elliot’s body went flying off into the grass.
I tried to regain my feet, stumbled, then staggered over to Ben’s truck.
Ben’s shotgun roared twice as the bull turned its massive form around. Ben took careful aim at the thing’s head.
“You’re too far away,” I shouted at Ben. “It won’t work!”
“Then let it get close.” There was a dead determination in his eyes. He widened his stance and aimed down the shining barrel of his gun.
The longhorn pawed at the ground. Crazed fury still boiled behind its eye and its gaze damn near bore a hole through Ben.
I jumped up on the truck.
“Hey!” I banged my metal fist into the roof of the vehicle as hard as I could, over and over. The longhorn turned to me at the noise. “Ben, get out of here.”
“I ain’t leaving.”
“Get!”
He seemed to falter for a second. The longhorn shook its head, snorted, and pawed at the ground.
Ben stood his ground.
The beast charged me. Its thundering hoof beats shook the truck, almost enough for me to lose my footing, but I held. On top of the truck I was too high for the deadly horns, or so I hoped. I crouched down, gripping the edge of the vehicle with my metal hand.
Primal rage erupted inside of me and I let it out
in a war cry, my bellow meeting that of the charging bull.
At the last second, I launched myself into the air. The bull slammed into the truck, sending it tumbling away.
I twisted myself around in the air, hoping my estimate had been right.
It was. I landed on the back of the beast, grabbing big fistfuls of the shaggy hair.
The longhorn reared up. My boots dug in hard. Its front hooves came down hard, knocking the wind from my lungs. I held, but the beast didn’t let up. It kicked its hind legs then shook. My leg flew free, but I was able to get it back in place before the next big kick.
My hat started to fall, so I grabbed it with my hand and by golly I do believe I let out a whoop like nobody’s heard for a long time. The beast started to slow down, kicking less each time. All of those kilos were intimidating, but that mass wore the beast out fast.
Ben lowered his shotgun and stood there slack-jawed. When the longhorn finally dropped from exhaustion, Ben slung his weapon across his back and ran over to help me down before the bull rolled over on me. Once I was far enough away, I sat right down on the soil and laughed.
Ben looked worried.
“Hell of a ride,” I said. “Hell of a ride.”
Green emerged from his hiding place in the mesquite, rifle raised.
“Put it away, Deputy,” I said. “You don’t need it.”
“Why not?”
“No need to shoot something that’s too tired to fight.” I nodded at the bull. “The longhorn’s too tired too, so you’d best be on your way.”
Green kept the rifle pointed at me.
The glint of something metal on the bull’s neck caught my eye.
“Ben,” I said. “What is that?”
Ben moved to the side of the longhorn. It let out a snort, but otherwise didn’t protest. He stroked its flank gently, speaking softly to it. He reached up to the creature’s neck and pulled off a slender metal collar. He turned it around in his hand.
I said, “That’s like the harness you had back at the ranch.”
He nodded.
“So, that’s why this one was acting strange.” I put my hat back on. “But does that mean Francis was controlling it?”
“Could have been anyone.”
“Back yonder I opened a door. I suppose whoever has control of this big fella might not have wanted us seeing what was in there.”
“Well, that sounds like a technophobe conspiracy theory, J.D.” Ben scratched his head. “Might be right, though.”
For a long minute Green did nothing. Then, his gaze fell on Elliot’s body and the rifle was all but forgotten. Green walked forward in a daze, felt for a pulse in the ruined neck of his partner, and shook the poor body until he knew for sure it wasn’t going to start moving again. He sobbed, burying his face in his hands.
Ben and I took a step away so that he could be in peace.
When Green spoke, his voice was flat. “He had a wife.”
With a grunt, I righted Green’s cruiser. It was dented badly, but otherwise appeared to be functional. “Son,” I said, “it’s a hard thing losing a good man. I’m sorry.”
He looked at me. His eyes glistened. “They just got married.”
“All the more reason to find his murderer.”
Green’s focus snapped on me. “Murderer?”
“Someone had that thing under control. Through this.” I held up the harness. “We aim to figure who.”
Green swallowed. “We should handle this,” he said. “The sheriff’s office, I mean.”
“That they should,” I said. “But they can’t solve this one. Not without trouble from Austin.”
“What do you need?”
“Time.”
“How much?”
“A day. Take the good deputy to his family. It won’t be easy. Come morning, tell the sheriff what happened and bring her over to Ben’s ranch to check the facts. By then we might have something y’all can help with.”
He nodded.
I turned to leave but paused. “Why were you out here?” I asked Green.
“Report came in of some illegal rustling. Said you might be here too.”
“Who called it in?”
Green licked his lips. “Not supposed to say.” Then he caught the scowl I was giving him. “A kid. I don’t know. There wasn’t an ID on the message.”
Chapter 26
The smell of burnt plastic flavored with a hint of metal reached us about halfway back to the hideout.
“You smell that?” Ben asked.
“Yep.”
“That’s not good, is it?”
“Nope.”
We rushed through the brush, pushing our way through to the door. The smoky haze got thicker the closer we came. The clearing was a caustic, choking cloud by the time we arrived.
The door was closed. Thick, black smoke seeped out of cracks along the edges and from a vent a short distance away. The post, where I’d attached to the bunker’s computer, had been bashed. Ruined. It was twisted and torn apart.
Everything I did to try to make sense of the situation failed. It was a puzzle with a missing piece. Maybe it wasn’t a puzzle at all. Maybe I was trying to put together pieces from different puzzles and ending up with a damn mess. Seemed like I’d been doing that my whole life.
“Head on back,” I said, trying to keep the resignation from my voice. “Once it’s cooled I’ll go in and see what there is to see.”
Ben scratched his head. “That’s it? This is big, J.D. We can’t just sit around.”
“Nothing for it.”
“Are we even going to be able to open the door again?”
“We’ll deal with that once we can deal with it.”
I moseyed a short distance and sat down against a tree. My knees protested bending and protested again when I straightened them out. Tenderly, I slipped off my boot, getting my first good look at the injured leg since riding the bull. It was ugly. Blood was crusted all over the inside of my boot, sticking to everything. The bandage was torn and bunched up to the side, where it wasn’t doing anyone any good.
“Another one?” Ben pulled a new wrap out of his pocket and tossed it on my lap. “Take care of this one, old man. Damn.” He sighed and also tossed me his canteen.
I took a swig. It was warm. A person could have passed it off for tea. The sweltering heat of the day had snuck up on us, baked us right in our boots. It wasn’t even noon and I could see the waves of heat rising off the tops of the hills. Down in the protected valley the brutal sun was somewhat filtered, but it was made up for with humidity.
“So you’re just going to sit there and wait?” Ben asked.
“Might have my luck at those tracks.” I pointed to a boot print about a meter from where I sat. “That and the broken twigs just a short distance over there. Take a good look.”
He looked, and as far as I could tell took the look seriously.
“That’s a fresh track in a dry forest. See the bright wood just under the bark? That gets dull when it’s been exposed to air for a day, shorter in this heat. I know I didn’t do that and the only animal tracks I see around here are from the kind of animal that stabs its friends in the back for money.”
Once he finished peering closely at the tracks, he looked me over. “You sure you’re going to make it out here if I leave you?”
“Come back by sundown if you can.”
“I will, but that’s a long day in this heat.”
I shrugged. “Make a few calls for me while you’re out there.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“No connection down here in this valley.” I tapped my ear. “Tried to call earlier.”
“Hills don’t block the signal.”
“Something’s doing it.”
Ben spent a few moments fiddling with the tech in his head, but came to the same conclusion. There was no connection to the outside world here.
“Get Abi over here, soon as she can manage it. I expect she’s mad enough that she wants to he
lp.” A wave of exhaustion washed over me, but I shook it off. “Call Court too. We’re going to need her people if we end up putting together a posse.”
“Court? Really?”
“Really. It’s that big. Sometimes an outlaw is your best hope.”
“Yeah, I know. I used to roll with Cinco Armas, remember? They’re really not a good place to hang your hope.”
“No, they’re not.”
We looked at each other in silence for a moment. “Anyone else?” Ben said finally.
“Yeah, one more thing.” I nodded back down the path where we’d come. “That deputy. He’s probably going to call the sheriff.”
“Probably already has.”
“You might as well talk to her too. Tell her she’s welcome to join the posse, but if she tries to stop it there’s going to be trouble.”
He gave me a weak smile. “That’s not a very coherent group, you know. There’s going to be violence.”
“It’s a posse, Ben. There damn well better be violence.”
“That’s not—”
“Go.”
Ben left. Half an hour later, I’d finished the water in his canteen and bandaged my leg for a third time. It seemed there was some value staying off of it, so I used my knife to fashion a walking stick from a fallen branch. Mesquite isn’t oak, but it would do.
After a failed attempt at following the tracks—the trail simply seemed to disappear after a while—I settled into some shade, pulled my hat down on my head, and waited. Whoever those tracks belonged to either knew how to move without leaving a trace or got picked up in a flying vehicle.
Noon came and went, and the filtered shade failed to keep the sun off my hat and the heat off my head. I sweated like a fat man eating chili peppers. An hour later, I stopped sweating, and that’s when I knew I was in trouble.
A man ought never underestimate the hot heat of a Texas summer. Nobody, not the fairest child or the toughest soldier, can survive when the heat comes to visit. All that water that makes up our frail bodies gets baked out, leaving us with dry tongues, burned skin, and death. That heat mummifies our remains and leaves us as warnings for fools who come after. It’s a shame nobody heeds warnings.
Peace in an Age of Metal and Men Page 17
