“You’re going to be okay, buddy. Nancy is really good at fixing people, and even better with kids.”
“I know, Daddy. I saw her helping everybody from the fire.”
“What’s the first thing you want to do when we get to Colorado?” I asked.
“Hmm,” he replied, thinking on it. “Well, I would like to go camping!” he blurted out.
I laughed out loud. “Son, we have been camping nearly every night.”
“I know, Daddy. But I want to camp just with you.”
“Okay, it’s my turn,” I said, feeling good again after his comment. “I want to go fishing with you. Not like we did back at the lake, but with real fishing poles in the river.”
“I feel tired, Daddy,” he said, as I noticed he was sweating.
“It’s okay. Stay with me.”
I looked at Nancy, concerned. “Just keep talking to him,” she said. “This is a process, and not a quick one.”
I kept him awake, reminiscing about old times in his formidable four years on this planet. We talked more about Colorado and what it would be like for him and his brothers growing up.
I saw Jake, Steve and Lonnie lifting the two motorcycles onto the trailer. “Never hurts to have more running transportation,” Jake said, “especially a couple of bikes.”
“Let’s keep going,” Nancy told Jake and Lonnie. “I can work on Jax just the same if we’re moving, and a little wind may cool him down.”
“You okay, Mike?” called Lonnie on the radio, receiving no reply.
“Let’s head out!” called Lonnie.
Today was supposed to be a good day, and I felt guilty realizing that I was the only member of my family not to be hurt or lost on this trip.
Maybe there’s a doozy waiting for me tomorrow, I thought, and quickly dismissed the idea.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Twenty-six ~
Saddle Ranch
Loveland, Colorado
Mac wandered in a daze for most of the morning, saying few words to anyone.
Bill met up with him just before lunch to see how he was holding up.
“You all right, Mac?” he asked, reaching down to pet Bo.
“I will be,” Mac replied. “It will just take a little time.”
“Maybe you should take the afternoon off and clear your head,” Bill suggested.
“Thanks, Bill. That might just…”
Three shots rang out from Green Ridge, followed by one more.
“That’s close,” said Bill. “I think your afternoon off will have to wait.”
Mac was already on the radio with his guys, shouting instructions.
“Can you watch Bo?” Mac asked.
“Sure,” replied Bill, “but be careful. It sounds like the shots were close to one of the houses up there.”
Bill made his way to the Pavilion and told everyone to go inside until further notice. “Stay away from the windows,” he added.
Bill radioed John and Samuel, who had both heard the shots, informing them that Mac and his guys were assessing the situation.
Mac grabbed Jimmy and two more men, all riding ATVs and headed up the mountain.
Mac called over the radio to his guys. “We’re not sure what this is, so let’s take it slow and easy. I don’t feel like getting shot today.”
Mac ran the possible scenarios through his mind. There were two houses up on the ridge, both occupied. But the shots could have come from anywhere on the mountain. Sounds had a funny way of echoing up there. Maybe some hunters, Mac thought.
They headed up to the MacDonald place, since it was the closest to the Ranch. The old man was out front on his porch, smoking a classic tobacco pipe. “Must be up here about those shots, I reckon.”
“Yes, sir,” Mac replied.
“Well, wasn’t us. Came from over the hill there, towards the Millers’ place.”
“Were you thinking about checking on them?” Mac asked, knowing full well the two families had been feuding for years.
“Mac, you know better than that,” the old man replied, pausing to refill his pipe. “Those two are crazier than both of my ex-wives,” he said, laughing.
“What’s that?” called a woman from the house.
“Nothin’, darlin’. Just talking to Mac and some of his guys is all.”
“All right. We’ll check it out,” Mac told him. “Have a good day, sir,” he added, as they rode east across the ridge.
Mac slowed to a stop a quarter mile down the road. “Group up, guys,” he said over the radio, motioning them to stop and cut the engines.
“These two, the Millers I mean, are a scary lot, and the kids too. We had to stop letting the children on the Ranch interact with them a couple of years back when we found out they were torturing small animals.”
“That’s sick,” said Jimmy. “What kind of animals?”
“Mostly rabbits and chickens, to start, and then some cats, and eventually one of our Ranch dogs. Anyway,” Mac continued, “they’re all armed to the teeth and could star in the next remake of the movie Deliverance.
“Let’s go slow, guns down, and be careful. Single file behind me. I did some carpentry work on their place a while back, so they know me.”
Fifteen minutes later, Mac rounded the last turn to the Millers’ place. A body lay across the driveway, just feet from the front door of the fortified compound.
Mac looked around but saw no one. Cautiously, he made his way to the downed figure, asking his guys to cover him.
The body was a man face-down on the gravel, and it appeared he had been shot in the back.
Mac turned him over slowly and saw it was Mr. Miller. Checking for a pulse, he found none.
There was no sign of anyone outside, and he couldn’t see into the house.
Returning to his men, he wasn’t sure how he wanted to proceed. Taking his binoculars out of his pack, he scoured the rest of the property and saw nothing out of the ordinary.
No dogs, he thought. They probably killed them too, remembering the four that had been here last time he was up.
Walking cautiously to the house, he knocked on the front door. “Rap Rap.” After two minutes, he knocked again.
A clearly intoxicated Mrs. Miller, wearing a black silk nightgown torn at the shoulder, opened the door just enough to see out.
“Maaac,” she slurred. “What er you wooing here?”
“I’m sorry ma’am, but I found your husband outside. Are you okay?” he asked, still confused.
“I am now,” she replied. “It’s a new world, and I got tired of him always judging me and calling me a drunk.”
“Did he threaten you?” asked Mac, still not understanding what happened.
“Maybe he did,” she replied. “Is that what you need to hear?”
“No, ma’am. I’m just trying to understand what happened is all.”
“Go home, Mac. My boys will be back soon, and I’m not sure what they’ll do when I tell them you shot their daddy.”
Mac and his men all heard this last statement, as she slammed the door closed, followed by the sound of two deadbolts locking.
Mac felt his stomach drop. “Let’s go. Let’s go, boys,” he called out, as they raced from the driveway.
“Bill,” he called on the radio. “We’ve got a problem.”
Mac’s mind was racing as he sped down the mountain.
Jimmy, riding up ahead, pointed to the far end of a long meadow. Mac looked over to see the two Miller boys and only two dogs. The boys were waiving for them to stop.
“What’s the call?” asked Jimmy on the radio.
“Keep going,” commanded Mac, as he waved to the boys.
Halfway home, Mac wondered if he should have stopped and tried to explain the situation.
How do you tell two teenage boys that their daddy is dead, still laying on the driveway, and their mother killed him? “You don’t,” he said aloud.
Mac met with Bill and John at John’s house, and with Jimmy’s help i
nformed them about the “misunderstanding,” as Mac put it.
“It sounds like there was no misunderstanding,” said John, listening to the entire story. “You’ve got a woman killing her husband, for whatever reason, and telling her sons that you did it. It’s straight forward, and they’re sure to believe it, coming from her.”
“How old are they now?” asked Bill.
“Sixteen and seventeen, I think,” replied Mac.
“We’ll talk with the elders and see if any of the old-timers have encountered something like this before. In the meantime, let’s increase perimeter security on the Green Ridge side,” continued John.
“We’ll talk tomorrow after breakfast,” added Bill. “You boys stay on high alert, just in case.”
Mac rode slowly back up to the Ranch. “What the hell is happening?” he asked out loud. “A couple of days ago, I had a perfect lunch with the love of my life, and now everything is turned upside-down. Are you testing me, Lord?” he called out angrily. “What’s next? My dog Bo gets sick and dies? I’ve tried to be good all my life, Lord. Am I not good enough for you?”
Jimmy, following close behind, slowed just a bit, hearing every word. He had never been a religious man, but he did say a quick prayer for Mac.
Mac was exhausted after this very long day. Always calm and sure of himself, he was now questioning everything. “What do you think?” he asked Bo, who laid at his feet.
Mac had never been much of a drinker, telling people who teased him that his father had drunk enough for them both.
Tonight was different, as he cracked open a bottle of George Dickel Tennessee Whisky that he had kept unopened for over three years. He was reminded of a Chris Stapleton song from a few years back, called “Tennessee Whisky.”
He poured a large glass and sang the tune low and slow, with a Country drawl.
You’re as smooth as Tennessee whiskey
You’re as sweet as strawberry wine
You’re as warm as a glass of brandy
And honey, I stay stoned on your love all the time
“What do you think?” he asked his best friend in the whole world, petting his head. “Should we stay here or try our luck somewhere else? Maybe up in the mountains, away from all this drama.” Mac smiled, knowing his friend would follow him to the ends of the earth without question.
Falling asleep after one more glass, he dreamed of Sarah. Bo woke up Mac with a low growl, escalating into a tooth-baring snarl, sensing something just beyond the front door of the small cabin Mac had occupied for several years.
Mac jumped out of bed, tripping over a small end table in the dark, and fell forward with a loud bang on the wooden floor.
Dazed for a moment, he thought he might be dreaming. Bo’s continued barking brought him back to the present.
Grabbing his pistol and leashing Bo, he slowly opened the door to more darkness. The moon was small this night, with heavy cloud cover making it nearly impossible to see with the naked eye.
“Who’s there?” he called, now finding his flashlight knocked over on the floor.
There was no answer, and he slowly crept out the door. He shone the flashlight around in a broad arc, not seeing anything out of the ordinary.
Turning back, he saw it.
The writing covered his front door and most of the front of his cabin.
Bright red letters, with varying threats, were strewn about the walls. “You gonna die, just like he did,” read one.
“Kill a man and take avantage of his wife = Deth penalty,” read another.
Mac felt nauseous with the new revelations, most assuredly from Mrs. Miller, now playing even more of a victim. This lasted for a moment, as nausea was replaced with anger.
He had been framed for a man’s murder, now apparently taking advantage of his widow, and he was being terrorized by two teenage boys.
He was also angry at his night watchmen for letting someone on the property, especially with the increased security just announced yesterday.
He thought about quickly spray painting over the graffiti, not wanting to cause a full-on panic around the Ranch tomorrow or have people thinking any of it was true.
Finding two large cans of black spray paint in the mechanic shop, he covered the words as best he could. They were partially visible still but unreadable.
Mac and Bo returned to his cabin for the night.
The morning was bustling with questions about the paint on Mac’s house.
He called a meeting with Bill and John to discuss the new events.
John was concerned that people had entered the property under cover of night without being detected, and Bill commented on the need for increased security.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Twenty-seven ~
Capulin, New Mexico
Nancy took proper care of my boy, and Lonnie called Jake and me to the front of the trailer.
“How’s your boy?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” I replied. “I know Jake’s wife is doing the best she can for him. I really need to get back to him,” I explained.
“I understand, Lance,” said Lonnie, “but what do you think?”
“I think,” I replied, “that I’m not sure I made the right decision, bringing you all on this death march to Colorado.
“It’s been one disaster after another,” I added. “I should have stopped those guys from throwing the snake onto the trailer. I mean, I had the chance. I just froze.
“I missed the kids playing outside the ring of safety, and they got hurt.
“I almost lost my youngest boy, leaving him behind. Who does that?” I asked.
“We all did,” added Jake. “I never imagined the man would do that, and we let our guard down, with your boy getting hurt. We are all responsible for the fire, and even Hendrix getting lost. We are a family, a large one, but family no less, and each of us bear responsibility for the children.”
“Maybe we should have headed for Louisiana or stayed in McKinney,” I said.
“No, Lance. We are on the right path, and close to our midway pit stop,” said Lonnie. “We’re all alive, and hopefully Vlad as well,” he added. “Go now and be with your boy,” he suggested.
Jax was feeling better, and Nancy gave me a much-needed nod. “He’s going to be okay,” she whispered in my ear.
Lonnie and Jake looked at the map.
“We’re 287 North to 87 West to 64 Northwest to Capulin, New Mexico, about 170 miles up the road. It’s home to the last dormant volcano you may ever see,” said Jake.
Back on the road, I wondered what would be next. Another killing, more fire, maybe a scorpion bite? How about the Capulin volcano suddenly erupting for the second time, after 60,000 years?
Obsessing about the trip so far, I wanted to see the best parts of the trek. I knew I was getting cynical and needed a rest. Focusing on David’s place so close now, I wanted to relax and let my guard down, but knew I could not.
Sitting next to Joy, she was upset about the bikers. “You didn’t have to do that,” she told me, “and don’t even get me started about Mike!”
“I can’t explain his actions,” I told her, “but for my part, I just saw red.”
“What does that even mean?’ she snapped.
“It means,” I said, “that someone hurt our boy and I just reacted without thinking. I saw red, and nothing else.
“As for Mike,” I continued, “I thought I was getting to know what made him tick. I was sure I had him figured out, but I was wrong. He’s still as unpredictable as always.”
“I know, honey,” Joy responded calmly, with a sigh. “I wanted to tear that man from limb to limb for hurting our sweet boy. I just didn’t want the kids to see it.”
“Me neither,” I agreed, “but it just can’t be helped sometimes. Their little worlds, all of them, are forever changed. And by the time we get to Colorado, God willing, they will be hardened in a way we can’t undo. We will, however, pray with them daily and remind them what it’s l
ike to be a kid sleeping safe and sound each night.
“We will all start a new life, slowly erasing the past tragedies from their memories. It will take a long time, and maybe even generations, to feel normal again,” I added. “We will persevere and overcome our obstacles. Tomorrow we will be at David’s place, and we can rest for a couple, or maybe even more, days. We will be safe there and can relax just a bit.
Next World Series (Vol. 2): Families First [The Road] Page 27
