Next World Series (Vol. 2): Families First [The Road]

by Ewing, Lance K.

  “Great to see you, James,” the owner said in a loud voice, adding, “soon to be our new Mayor James VanFleet” to the gathering breakfast crowd.

  Taking both James and Jason into a back storeroom, the owner scratched his head nervously.

  “No, sir. We’ve been looking for a week now, and nobody has any beef to sell. I have the customers, as you can see,” pointing towards the front of the restaurant. “But I’m afraid we’ll be out of beef in just a few days. As it is, we are running out of pork as well.”

  “What are you looking to spend in trade for a half cow?” asked James—“butchered, of course.”

  “Well, I’m sure nobody is still taking checks or dollar bills, but I may have some gold coins in 1/4-, 1/2- and 1-ounce Gold Eagles. The trade price was about $1,400 per ounce just a few weeks ago.”

  “Well, we may be able to help you out,” said James. “Half-cow prices were right at $1,200, plus the butcher fee of about $100. So pretty close to a one-ounce gold coin, I reckon.

  “If we were agreeable, I could throw in a case of this town’s finest moonshine to even it out. I wouldn’t know if it could be done until this afternoon, though, since we would have to presell the other half at the trade days.”

  “If I took 3/4 cow for 1.5 ounces in gold coin, how many pounds of meat is that?” asked the owner.

  “Well, you’re looking at about 330 pounds of meat off the top of my head,” said James, “and that would leave us with about 110 pounds to presell today.”

  “Mr. James, if you can do the deal, I’m good for it and will pay you 1/3 in advance,” said the owner, “if you can deliver in three days.”

  “I’ll let you know when we stop by for dinner,” James told him, shaking his hand.

  “Isn’t gold worth a lot more than that now?” asked Jason, as they walked back to the truck.

  “Sure is,” James replied, “but so is 3/4 of a cow.”

  * * * *

  They arrived in front of the clock just in time for the Sheriff’s introduction.

  He went over the rules of trade, just as last time, but then called James and Jason up on to the trailer where he stood.

  Speaking to nearly 150 traders, he announced them as the next Mayor and Deputy Mayor of Weston.

  “As you all know, our town elections are this coming Tuesday for Mayor, Deputy Mayor, City Council, and of course Sheriff of this great town,” he boomed. “I personally endorse James VanFleet for the town Mayor and Jason Davis for Deputy Mayor. Please stop by stand number 49 and give them your support for the future of this town.”

  All in attendance clapped, and a few whistled.

  “As you may know,” he continued in a voice everyone could hear, “I have an opponent for my position in Mr. Grimes. He seems to be unavailable lately, and we can’t be sure if he had a change of heart. Either way, I stand before you as your sitting Sheriff and the best choice for the future of this town.

  “Mark my words that you will have your say come Tuesday, and until then you may have comfort that you can trade your wares and let our educators teach your children under the absolute protection of myself and those who serve under me.

  “Happy trading and happy voting.”

  Setting up the trading tables, James kept the moonshine underneath the tablecloth and out of sight.

  They prepared to pre-sell 80 pounds of beef, opting to keep 30 for themselves.

  “Honestly, with the deal we struck earlier, we could give it away for free and still come out way ahead,” pointed out James.

  “The Mayor-to-be and the Sheriff give away 80 pounds of beef to the citizens of their fair town,” said Jason. “I can see the headline now.”

  “It sounds like a great idea!” remarked the Sheriff, overhearing the conversation from just behind the booth. “People love free food,” he continued.

  “We’ll need tomorrow off to slaughter the animal,” added James.

  “Let’s do it, James, and double up with campaigning on Monday,” the Sheriff added, patting him on the shoulder as he walked down the line of vendors.

  The next thirty minutes brought an onslaught of people to James’ booth, all quoting Sheriff Johnson on the promise of free beef. The story was retold by each one and ranged from the promise of 1 to 30 pounds of free meat.

  Janice reluctantly started a sheet tally of the first 80 people to each receive one pound of meat at next week’s trade days.

  A massive boom came from just behind one of the vendors stands, knocking an older man to the ground. The Sheriff and his men were no more than ten yards from the explosion, tackling a man holding a backpack in his right hand.

  His head was promptly covered with a black hood while being led away towards the police station, to the clapping and cheers of most traders.

  The older man slowly rose to his feet and packed up his few sale items without a word and walked away.

  “There’s your false flag,” James said to Jason in a low voice.

  “I don’t get it,” replied Jason.

  “A false flag is like a kid saying to look over there while they steal the dessert off your plate. It’s a distraction, often scary, where attention is diverted temporarily and there is an option to set the stage for what’s to come. It’s been used by most governments at some point and can play a crucial role in politics and elections. Did you see how they quickly put a hood over his face, disguising him?” asked James.

  “Yes, James, I saw that.”

  “Was it the bomber or one of the Sheriff’s good buddies?” James asked.

  “Well, the bomber, of course. I mean, he was right beside the explosion when it happened.”

  “Was he?” asked James. “Was it Mr. Grimes that did it? Did he set off the bomb that didn’t hurt anyone and somehow made the Sheriff look good at keeping the town safe?”

  “Well, no, he’s locked up. I mean…” Jason paused for what seemed like an eternity but was more like twenty seconds. “Oh, I see now,” he said, his face running pale. “I’m not sure I want any part of this,” he added, looking sick.

  “Hold the fort for just a few, will you, Janice?” James asked. “I’m going to introduce Jason around to the other vendors.”

  James cut straight across the field, waking slow to talk to Jason.

  “There are things going on here, Jason, that are out of our hands. Some are terrible things that we have no control over. I do my best to please God in everything I do. Many times I fall short, but I trust that God can handle the significant issues that are out of my reach. Do you pray, Jason?”

  “No…well, I guess I don’t really. I think God was with me up on the mountain when we met. But now, after today, I’m not so sure.”

  “Rest assured, I did worse things than you when I was a young man back in Chicago,” said James. “I used to say there is no way in hell I’m ever getting into heaven. But when I read the Bible and started going to church, I realized that there is room for all of us.

  "I’m not going to beat you up about this, and you need to understand that we can’t fix everything, but we can do our absolute best on the things we can change. Rest assured, sin is everywhere and things happening like today may be out of our control, but they don’t go unnoticed.”

  “I think I understand,” Jason replied, with a sigh. “It’s just so hard.”

  “I know, buddy, but everything is still the same. It’s Families First, no matter what.”

  With that, they met each vendor, campaigning for themselves and Sheriff Johnson.

  As hours ticked by, they had sold most of the goods on the table, and nearly 65 pounds of beef was ordered.

  James didn’t bring the moonshine out, waiting for one of his old customers who never came.

  Packing up for the day, the Sheriff stopped by for the town bounty. “Sorry about the unpleasant commotion earlier,” he said to Janice and Lauren. “Everything in our fair town is safe once again.

  “How were the spirits sales?” he asked, as he was leaving.

>   “None today, Sheriff,” James said with a solemn tone.

  “That’s surprising,” commented the Sheriff. “How much for an extra case for Judge Lowry?”

  James’ mind was running. Should he give it away, knowing it would set a precedent of submissive behavior, or price it sky high to test the Sheriff?

  He opted to split the difference, saying, “It’s $10 per case, silver, gold and junk coins all accepted.”

  The Sheriff handed two Silver Eagle one-ounce coins to James, worth $32 in the last world, and said, “I’ll take three cases.”

  “That will work,” announced James, retrieving three cases from under the table.

  “These ought to last the Judge for a while,” commented James.

  “We’ll see,” the Sheriff replied coldly.

  Packing up, it was a good day of trading and campaigning.

  The restaurant had people lined up around the corner.

  “Mr. VanFleet,” said the owner, coming to the back of the line to greet them.

  “Right this way,” he gestured, as they followed him around back and into the restaurant, with their table for seven already set.

  “We’re not looking for any special treatment,” said James.

  “Nonsense,” replied the owner. “You have reservations!”

  The girls were so excited to sit in what could be one of the last restaurants still open anywhere in the country.

  There were no menus this day, just the Saturday Trade Special, written out on a large chalkboard hanging on the far wall in front of the kitchen.

  James gave the excited restaurant owner the news about the beef, promising to have it delivered in three days from deposit.

  “I’m sorry we don’t have any pork, though,” James added.

  “I thought you would be able to make the deal,” the owner said, handing James a half-ounce gold coin.

  James smiled, as he has seen these many times in the Gold and Silver Depot in Trinidad but had never held one.

  With all ordering the Special, the wait was hard. Smells wafted from the kitchen, just like James had remembered the last time he was here, but somehow today it smelled even better.

  James placed the coveted coin on the table in front of Jason. “You and Lauren have been working hard and doing a great job on the ranch. Everybody needs some carrying around money.”

  “Really?” asked Jason.

  “I don’t think we can accept this,” said Lauren. “It’s just too much.”

  “Lauren,” replied Janice. “I think it’s just right. We can exchange it for an equal amount of silver coins when we get home, if you would like something easier to spend.”

  “Yeah, that would be great,” replied Jason. “There’s not a lot anymore that is worth this much in trade, except for maybe a cow.”

  Everyone laughed at this, even the girls.

  “Thank you, James and Janice. Lauren and I feel truly blessed to have you in our lives.”

  “Me too!” chimed in each girl.

  Dinner was worth the wait and served homestyle. A large plate of chicken fried steaks sat in the middle, surrounded by mashed potatoes with real butter and a bowl full of gravy. Collard greens with bacon bits, a hearty garden salad, and “rolls the size of your face,” as Jenna put it, rounded out the meal.

  “Don’t forget to save room for dessert,” said the owner, as he served them personally. “The misses has whipped up a peach cobbler with real vanilla ice cream, which may be the best in the country right now!”

  The girls were more excited about the ice cream than anything else. By 6 p.m. they were stuffed and joking about doggie bags.

  They all sang classic children’s songs on the way home. James was caught up in the moment as they reached the front gate of their ranch. Life had gotten easier lately, and he was letting his guard down.

  * * * * * * *

  Chapter Eighteen ~ Second Chances Ranch Weston, Colorado

  “Did you lock the gate when we left?” asked Janice, pointing to the chain lying on the ground at the front of their property.

  “I always do,” James replied, telling the girls to duck down.

  The sounds of Chance’s barking were barely heard down the long driveway.

  James couldn’t see a vehicle from his vantage point but thought there must be one somewhere or why would they cut the lock?

  “Okay, Jason. There are a couple of scenarios here. Either we’ve been robbed, and they’re gone, or they parked behind the house or inside the barn and are still here on the property. Until we know for sure, we can’t have your girls and the ladies just sitting out here. Let’s go to your old place, and see if it’s clear. We’ll drop them off while we check it out.”

  “Okay,” replied Jason nervously.

  Arriving at the old Davis place, a quick sweep revealed nothing out of the ordinary. The last thing Jason had done, as they left with their belongings, was to put a small piece of writing paper in the door jambs that would fall undetected when any one of the three trailer doors were opened. They were all intact, signifying that no one had been there.

  Janice, Lauren and the girls slipped into the trailer after a quick sweep by James and Janice and an all-clear sign.

  Janice, carrying her Mossberg 590 12-gauge shotgun, posted in the front room of the trailer.

  “Be back soon,” James said, blowing her a kiss.

  Quickly unhooking the trailer from the truck, they headed the three miles back to the ranch.

  “It’s going to be dark in about 45 minutes, so we’ve got to make this quick, one way or the other,” said James. “They could be parked in the barn, but I’m guessing they are already gone or parked behind the house.”

  “I hope Chance is okay,” added Jason.

  “He was just a while ago…” said James, trailing off, and saying a quick prayer for his new four-legged friend.

  They drove slowly past the gate, still on the main road to get a glimpse of the back of the house, with James wishing his new old truck was any color besides bright yellow.

  “That’s it,” said James, pointing to an old hatchback parked just behind the house.

  With a quick look through binoculars into the front window, James could make out two people rummaging through the living room cabinets.

  He didn’t see Chance, and he hoped he was still okay.

  “They haven’t seen us,” James announced. “I’m going to drive up just a bit, and we can head to the back of the house, hopefully undetected.”

  “Then we walk right up and knock on the door?” Jason asked nervously.

  “No,” replied James. “There’s a few parts of the house I haven’t shown you yet and you will see one in just a few. It may be the difference in who lives tonight and who doesn’t.”

  James navigated the truck into a deep but navigable ravine, just out of sight of his house.

  Jason had the shotgun James gave him, and James had another, plus his Ruger SR40 pistol he wore concealed on his right calf most days.

  Ducking low, they made their way to the back of his house, moving slowly with Jason’s still-healing leg.

  Unlocking the cellar door, they cautiously navigated down the stairs.

  James smiled, as he heard Chance barking once again.

  Hold on, buddy. We’re coming, he thought to himself.

  “Why are we down here?” whispered Jason. “I mean, shouldn’t we be headed for the front door?”

  “Not this time, Jason. We have the element of surprise.”

  Quietly opening what appeared to Jason to be just a cabinet, James disappeared inside.

  “Let’s go,” he whispered to Jason, who followed reluctantly.

  Once inside, they stood in a small room the size of an apartment closet, lit by low emergency lighting.

  “Jason,” whispered James, “when I pull this lever the wall right in front of us will open from right to left. It’s not going to be as fast as I would like, but once it starts, we’re fully committed. Understand?”
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  “Yeah, I understand.”

  “If we can resolve this without bloodshed on either side, that would be ideal,” said James.

  “Agreed,” said Jason, now feeling as if he were about to vomit for the second time in only days.

  “I think there are two at least, but I could only see shapes through the shades with my binoculars. Okay. On the count of three,” said James, with his hand on the lever.