Brotherhood Protectors_Montana Freedom

by Natasza Waters

  She hugged him as hard as he hugged her. He was an island of reassurance in a sea of guilt and second guessing. “It’s time for someone else to fill our boots.” She smiled up at him.

  His amazing gaze met hers.

  “I’m glad you’re home,” she said.

  Sam hugged him one more time then cleared her throat and stepped away from Cory’s comforting arms, snagged the tractor key from the hook in the utility room and pulled a sweater over her head instead of wearing a jacket. The weatherman called for warm temperatures by noon.

  She stepped onto the porch. To be finished by supper, she had to get moving. Lots of ground to till, and she headed toward the equipment barn hearing the Montana wind whisper her freedom.

  ****

  Sam lined up the forty horse power tractor for the first row. Releasing the brake, she set the two blades on the dark earth. The ground was a little wetter than what she remembered her daddy tilling, but not enough that she’d get stuck.

  The tractor was old, yet maintained over the years and John Deere never failed to do the job. Sam adjusted the hearing protection over her ears and pulled herself into the saddle seat. The old tractor had a roll bar but not a cage around the operator. Unlike the newer models, no glass or cover to protect her from the elements, but the weatherman had been right for a change and the sun shone down on her shoulders while the mountain wind cooled the air.

  After the first pass, she raised the blades and backed-up to the start of the churned ground, then aligned her right wheels in the furrowed track. She engaged the gearshift and with a jerk of the tractor, turned a new row of soil. Checking behind her often, she readjusted for the blades to cut a straight line.

  After her tenth pass, and set up for the eleventh, she idled and surveyed her surroundings. Giving breath to the soil by turning swathes of winter-packed earth to the heat of sunlight, rejuvenated her as well. Two eagles flapped a slow arc of their wings overhead and landed in a nearby Blue Spruce.

  This particular field sat behind a large mass of trees that followed a streambed and hid her view of the ranch house. She smiled when it occurred to her that no matter if she tilled every last square inch of the thousand acre ranch, she’d never have to worry about an IED or daisy chain hidden in the dirt. There wasn’t a sniper perched in some tree branch, steadying his aim. Her heart ached for the angst and unrest in the Middle East where the citizens couldn’t trust their neighbors. The night held dangers with raids by ISIS warriors. Fear captured more space in the villagers’ conscious, never allowing peace a chance.

  Afghanistan, where she left her last FST post, was a country of tears. If the people could find peace, the beautiful landscape of snow-capped mountains and fields of flowers would thrive. But hatred had turned many cities into rubble, dust and a raw open wounds could never heal when the Hamas motto is “We love death as much as the Jews love life.”

  No recognition. No peace. No negotiations. Israel, a small piece of ground surrounded by Syria, Jordan and Egypt, lived on the edge of war’s knife. Although Israel gave the oil rich land of the Sinai Peninsula back to Egypt to offer peace, Israel, a country the size of New Jersey is surrounded by hate.

  If all the Muslims and Palestinians decided tomorrow that land and religion wasn’t worth blood and death, there would simply be no more war.

  After ten years of her life spent in the Middle East, Sam had come to the conclusion many servicemen and women have come to believe. There are cultural and religious differences that America will never be able to defeat by using military or diplomatic solutions. Death does not change faith, if that faith calls for the genocide of all other faiths.

  As Sam gazed across the upturned soil, it was hard to believe the terra firma she now stood on was connected to a place on the same earth thousands of miles away where blood soaked the sand. Here in Montana, she may not believe what her neighbor believed, but it didn’t mean death.

  She came to understand there are two truths for humanity: War is the epitome of hate. Peace is the epitome of tolerance.

  Sam remembered stepping out of the hospital for a breath of fresh air after laying the sheet over the face of a little girl from a village twenty miles away. She’d been caught in an IED blast while playing with her brother on the street. The little girl’s burns too severe to save her. Staring out toward the mountains in the Kunar Province, the last Forward Operations Base Sam was stationed, she’d come to a decision. She could no longer tolerate war.

  A week before, she’d turned thirty-two. She had close friends on the team, but no one special to love because she hadn’t allowed the emotion to set its hooks in her again after Flynn died. Her sister was getting married and wouldn’t waste any time having a family. If Sam stayed in the Army, she’d never know her future nieces or nephews, nor would she have a chance to be a mother herself. That day, she decided to come home.

  A broad smile spread her lips. Home was the safest place on Earth. She engaged the gear shift and concentrated on the next row midway up the sloped ground. Nearing the end, the tractor tilted to the right, hitting a soft spot. She didn’t hear the crack of the springs, or metal snapping, but her heart sped up as she toppled from her seat when both right wheels broke off.

  Sam landed with a hard thud, the air thrust from her chest. Quickly, she rolled, then screamed as the tractor lost its fight with gravity and toppled over her.

  ****

  Sam winced and tried to free her arm. Trapped between the unyielding plastic seat and the dirt, the pressure hurt but wasn’t unbearable. Her left shoulder was pinned, too. Unable to dig her right arm free, Sam moved her legs. At least they weren’t trapped, just caught in the space between the ground and the hood of the tractor.

  “What the hell,” she yelled.

  She wiggled her right elbow, happy the earth was soft or she would have lost her arm with the tractor’s weight bearing down on her. Shifting her hip, she dug the fingers of her left hand into her jean’s pocket. Carefully, she drew out her phone. Why the hell had she put in a password? She couldn’t lift the phone enough to see the screen.

  “Okay.” Sam took some calming breathes to stop her nerves from quaking. Jean covered legs with scuffed cowboy boots approached, and she let out a sigh of relief. From the size of the boots, probably a man and she needed muscle power to get her out of this mess. “Thank, God. Carl?”

  No answer. The person came to a halt at the front of the tractor.

  “Tex?” She wiggled her ass, but couldn’t free herself or see who belonged to the boots. “Can you give me a hand here?”

  The person walked slowly around to her side, and her heart pumped harder.

  “Hello?”

  Whoever was standing there, didn’t announce themselves.

  “Please, I need help.”

  “Yes, you do.” She saw his legs twist as if he were looking around. “But nobody can hear you call for help.”

  Sam didn’t recognize the man’s voice, and his words scared her even more.

  “You’re one lucky lady.” He paused. “Thought I’d finished the job last night.”

  Sam’s blood ran cold. She stretched her neck to the side to see who stood there, but there was no hope of that with her pinned in place.

  “Who the hell are you?” She wanted to scream with fear and frustration. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t get her arm free. Couldn’t protect herself.

  “It’s not personal, it’s business.”

  The breath caught in her throat. That’s what she’d said to Mack. “Mack hired you to hurt me? Why?”

  “Don’t know any Mack.” His brown leather boots sunk into the churned soil as he stepped back. “I was kinda hoping the tractor would’ve punctured your lung or crushed a vital organ. Shame,” he said. “You’re a good-looking woman. Now, you’re gonna be a good-looking corpse.”

  “Wait! Please. Who are you?”

  “Doesn’t matter who I am. I do favors for money. Someone wanted a favor.”

  “Tell me. If I�
��m going to die, I want to know who hired you.”

  “Believe me. You’re going to die.”

  A burlap sack dropped onto the palm of her hand. She pushed the back of her head into the dirt, rubbing to create space in order to see what was going on.

  Something in the sack moved. It didn’t take long to recognize the slow ‘S’ motion and the rattle that came from inside. Her breathing exhaled with jerky puffs.

  God, she hated snakes.

  The Prairie Rattler slid from the bag. Its brown and beige scaled body slithered across her arm then jerked to a stop. Sam held her breath as the stranger walked away. She couldn’t even beg if she wanted. Fear dried her mouth as the snake moved forward. Closer. Its forked tongue darted in and out. Although the spring sun beat down, the weather was too cold for a rattler.

  Sam squeezed her eyes shut with the snake’s body gliding up her arm as it slithered toward her neck, seeking warmth.

  Chapter Nine

  Cory finished the chores Carl had lined up for the morning. Stretching out a kink in his back, he looked across the fields. Tomorrow, they’d exchange the horses at the movie set. He turned an ear, listening for the tractor. Sam working alone out there wasn’t his first choice, but Carl said she’d handled the tractor since she was ten-years-old.

  Too far in the distance, he didn’t hear the comforting gurgle of the engine from the field, nor could he see it hiding behind a line of trees.

  Cory considered saddling a horse and visiting her. Maybe take her something to drink. He grinned. One excuse was as good as the next to lay eyes on Samantha. The warm sun beat down on the earth, and he shed his jacket. A glance at his watch revealed it was almost noon. Surely, she’d come in for lunch. He headed to the ranch house with the rest of the men.

  Tania had sandwiches and soup laid out for the hands. A pot of coffee sat beside a jug of lemonade on the long trestle table in the dining room.

  “Need a hand?” Cory asked.

  “No, thanks.” Tania turned and looked at the old clock hung from a rafter in the post and beam home. “Did you see, Sam?”

  “Thought about riding out to the field, but she’ll be in for lunch, won’t she?”

  Tania shrugged. “Probably not. She’ll keep working till the job’s done.”

  “Should I go get her?” he asked.

  Tania raised a brow. “And face the goddess of don’t-interrupt-me-if-I’m-busy? Have a seat.”

  As he ate with the other men, he got a strange churning in his stomach. Sam probably needed to do a little soul searching like he had this morning. Last night had been pretty intense. It took him almost a whole half second to figure out that Samantha made his blood roar, and he wanted nothing more than to keep whatever they had started, going in a direction that might end up with a permanent address in Eagle Rock. He’d never been this tuned into a woman before.

  “You okay, Cory?” Tania offered him the plate of sandwiches, and he lifted his hand to gesture he’d had enough.

  “I’m fine. I’ll pack up a few of those and take them to Sam.”

  “I was going to do that, but I can’t get away from the darn phone. It’s been ringing off the hook with nosy neighbors asking about us selling.”

  “Any of them make an offer to purchase the farm?”

  “None of them.”

  “You really gonna sell?” Tex asked, setting down his glass.

  Tania shot a look at Cory. “Yeah, why? You know someone who’d be interested?”

  Tex shrugged his shoulders. “Not really.”

  Not more than twenty-one or so, Tex might be young, but he kept up with the men on the ranch. He carried himself like a man and had shoulders like a linebacker. He’d told Cory he wanted to own his own place one day, and that he had a huge crush on a girl from town. The gal had moved here a year ago and started teaching at the elementary school. Tex had asked Cory for some advice on women, which made Cory chuckle. Living in his combat boots, he didn’t have much advice other than treating a woman with respect and kindness.

  Truth was, he rarely dated a woman for more than eight hours. He’d picked them that way purposely. The one’s who hung out at bars but didn’t want to hang onto one guy. Tex wanted more details, as in the kind that occur in the bedroom, then admitted he was still a virgin. Cory reminded him that all men were at one time. It wasn’t good enough for the kid, so he let him in on a few trade secrets about a woman’s body. Tex blushed the entire time.

  “What do you mean, not really, kid?” Cory asked.

  “Stopped in at Momma’s Breakfast Grill this morning. Didn’t feel like making my own. I saw Tucker there. He didn’t see me though.”

  Tania’s head turned. “Tucker? My Tucker?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Some guy stopped at his table and asked him about the Bluebell Ranch. Couldn’t really hear the entire conversation. I was gonna tell the guy I worked there if he needed directions. He only talked with Tucker for a minute.”

  Tania’s big blues landed on Cory. “Why would Tucker be in Eagle Rock and not stop by?”

  “Maybe you should ask him,” he suggested. Cory turned his attention back on Tex. “They say anything else to each other?”

  “No, sir.”

  “What’d he look like?”

  “Kinda dark. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Wore cowboy boots and jeans with a black leather jacket. Not really a face you remember. Thought he might be a realtor from another town or something, just wanting to take a look at the place.”

  Cory’s mind whirled, and he twisted to look at the clock. Twelve thirty. “I’m going to go check on Sam.”

  “Heard the tractor stop around nine,” Tex said.

  “Nine? And you haven’t heard it since?”

  Tex stood up when he did. “No, thought Sam was finished.”

  “Finished tilling ten acres in one hour?”

  Cory nearly tore the door off when he pushed it open; Tex and Carl close behind. He ran to the barn and grabbed one of the horses saddled and tied to a hitching post waiting for a guest who’d arranged a trail ride. Yanking the reins loose, the chocolate bay whinnied and she thrust her head upwards. He mounted with one leap and galloped toward the field. He didn’t bother with the gate and hoped the mare had it in her to jump the fence. He urged her on, and she lifted with a long stride and vaulted over the fence. The sound of a truck followed behind him. Thrashing chunks of grass from her hooves, Cory rode the horse hard.

  “Goddammit,” he swore as he rounded the tree line and saw the tractor turned over. His heart flew into his throat. Even with years of training under his belt as D-force, the sight scared the shit out of him.

  He kicked his heels into the mare’s side. Within fifty feet, he starting calling. The horse hadn’t stopped when he flung himself from the saddle. He tripped on a tuft of grass and went down face first. With a grunt, he thrust himself to his feet and ran the last five yards.

  “Sam!” His fear ratcheted higher in his gut when she didn’t answer. “Sam!”

  He dove toward the tractor, heard the rattle and then jumped back, landing on his ass. The snake lunged and struck the heel of his boot. He crab-walked backwards while the snake retreated. He could see Sam trapped under the tractor. The snake slithered backwards for safety and coiled next to her neck.

  “Fuck. Sam, it’s okay. Hold on.” Her head was turned away and she didn’t move. Was she even alive? Christ almighty, you better not have taken her from me.

  The truck came to a bouncing stop. Carl and Tex jumped out.

  “There’s a rattler coiled next to her, we need something to get it away from her.” Cory ran to the other side of the tractor and got on his belly. “Sam.”

  She slowly opened one eye and mouthed, “Help me.”

  “Give us a second, we’ll have that snake gone.”

  Carl marched over with a rake. Within ten seconds, he had the long handle pressed behind the snake’s head and gripped the scaly bastard. Tex held open a sack he picked up from the ground and Carl dropped
the rattlesnake inside. Tex twirled the bag closed.

  Cory gently caressed Sam’s hand. It had turned a crimson color, which meant the circulation was cut off. “Sweetheart, we have to figure this out. Hang in there.”

  She nodded slowly.

  “The snake’s gone?” Her blue eyes begged him to get her out.

  Another truck arrived and four more ranch hands got out, Tania with them. She ran toward the tractor, a hand covering her mouth and eyes pleading to tell her Sam was alive.

  “She’s trapped underneath. We have to figure out a way to lift the tractor without the chance of it coming down on top of her. Her arm is caught under the seat.”

  “Sam,” she called, and ran to her sister’s side. “It’s okay, we’re gonna get you out of here.” Tania leaned closer listening to something Sam said.

  Cory backed away and the men all closed into a tight circle around him.

  “This isn’t good,” Carl said.

  Cory brushed his face with both hands. Think. Without the metal rails, she’d be dead. Two of the wheels had sheered right off. “We need something to prop up the tractor long enough to slide her out.”

  “I can go back to the equipment barn. We’ve got four hydraulic jacks, but the grounds soft, we’ll need something to set them on,” Carl said.

  Cory nodded. “I saw a pile of unused patio tiles behind the baler. They’re two inches thick. They’ll work. Go get them.”

  Everyone clambered back into the two trucks, but Cory returned to the tractor. “Sam? We’re gonna have you out of here in a few minutes. Just gotta hang on a little longer.”

  She opened her eyes and gazed into his. “As long as that damn snake is gone.”

  He squirmed under the tractor, stretched his neck and kissed her. “It’s gone. And from now on, I’m doing the tilling.”

  She swallowed and then out a breath. “No, you won’t. You’ll be strutting your stuff on some walkway in Paris making seven figures. I’ve had a lot of time lying here, thinking about it.”

  “Maybe, maybe not, but I’m not going anywhere that will keep me away from you for more than a few days. We make a pact, here and now. If it’s longer than that, you come with me.”