His minded drifted to a spring long ago. He was just a boy, nine years old. The memory was so vivid and so real that he could smell the grass, feel the cool breeze on his face, and sense the powerful muscles of his horse under him as both flew through the orange-barked ponderosa pines. He could also see the smiling face of his father and hear his deep, rich laughter echoing through the trees.
Adam hadn’t been home since his mother died. He didn’t think he could face the emptiness of the big house or the falling-down fences or the decaying barns. No one had lived on the ranch since Bill’s death. Jillian and her son had moved away a few years after he was born. Debbie and Jake had returned to Texas with Sam Carson right after the war. Adam hadn’t seen or thought about any of them for so long.
Today would be the first time they’d all been together in over twenty-five years. The reunion would be bittersweet. The memories of the war and the pain of loss still felt fresh. But there was no pain, no matter how deep, that could destroy the love of a family.
Adam smiled at another lost memory as a loud knock sounded on the heavy oak door. He shook off his thoughts and returned to the present.
“Come in,” he said.
A man opened the door. “They’re ready for you, Mr. President.”
Adam walked out of the office, into the massive flower garden, and up to the podium. A deafening cheer greeted him as he leaned close to the microphone. Jillian and his nephew, Levi, smiled up at him from the front row of a group of white plastic chairs. She clasped her hands together and mouthed the words I love you. Debbie Carson sat between Jake and Sam and blew Adam a kiss.
He winked at his family and waved to the crowd. “Thank you all for coming,” he said. Flashbulbs went off and the members of the media thrust their microphones toward him.
“Thirty years ago,” Adam said, “over 140,000 men, women, and children fought on a lonely mountainside in Colorado. They were fighting for the fundamental right to live as a free people. They fought, they bled, and they died to rid our land of a great evil. There were some in power who sought to cleanse our land from the ideals and convictions of those who, with the help of almighty God, created a society based on freedom and personal responsibility. The fifty-six men who signed the original document of freedom pledged their lives, their fortunes, and their sacred honor to assure that the idea of America would thrive, spread, and never perish from the earth. That original philosophy lived in the hearts of every patriot who stood on top of the San Juan Mountains on that cold Colorado morning in November three decades ago.
“I have asked you all here today to honor their memory. This day is not about honoring just one man. It is about honoring the blessed sacrifice of every man, woman, and child that make up this great nation. It says in John 15:13, ‘No greater love has a man, than to lay down his life for a friend.’ I am proud to remember and to call all of those who died on that bloody Colorado morning my friends. That scripture in the book of John was one of my father’s favorite passages. It was something he lived daily. He devoted his life to placing himself in harm’s way to protect the innocent.”
Adam paused, hung his head, and choked back the tears that were threatening to burst forth from his blue eyes.
“I have lived most of my forty years without the companionship or love of my earthly father. He willingly gave his life so all of us could live today and have the freedom to make our own way in the world. The day I learned of my father’s death, a great hole opened in my heart. The day I understood why my father died, that hole was filled with an intense passion to serve those whom he died for. We can never forget where we came from nor the sacrifices of those who came before us. The day we forget is the day this nation dies.”
Adam walked to the edge of the stage and looked to the east. A giant green tarp was draped over an object a hundred feet tall and eighty feet wide. Adam put his feet together, stood at attention, and saluted. As a formation of F-22’s streaked overhead, the tarp was pulled free, revealing the solid bronze monument.
His father stood up in the stirrups on the back of a tall horse. His right hand stretched toward the heavens clutching a tattered American flag as a young girl reached down to receive it.
The crowd fell silent. No flashbulbs went off, no questions came flooding from the mouths of the hungry media. Everyone stood in reverent silence. Tears filled many eyes as a dove landed atop the monument.
President Adam Nirschell turned his back on the crowd and the shining bronze tribute, and walked away. Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks as he also turned his eyes toward heaven.
“Thank you, Dad.”
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Prologue
Part One
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty One
Part Two
Twenty Two
Twenty Three
Twenty Four
Twenty Five
Twenty Six
Twenty Seven
Twenty Eight
Twenty Nine
Thirty
Thirty One
Thirty Two
Thirty Three
Thirty Four
Thirty Five
Thirty Six
Thirty Seven
Thirty Eight
Thirty Nine
Forty
Part Three
Forty One
Forty Two
Forty Three
Forty Four
Forty Five
Forty Six
Forty Seven
Forty Eight
Forty Nine
Fifty
Fifty One
Fifty Two
Fifty Three
Fifty Four
Fifty Five
Fifty Six
Epilogue
Collective Retribution Page 34
