Holding Their Own: The Salt War

by Joe Nobody

  “I’ve never heard a woman scream so loudly,” Grim chuckled. “It was like she’d never seem a bunch of guys surrounding her bed with night vision goggles before.”

  Rocco didn’t acknowledge Terri. Instead his eyes were busy, boring into Mr. Culpepper with hurled bolts of hatred and spite.

  “I see you two already know each other,” Terri commented. “Good. Now let’s get down to business. Please follow me.”

  She led the sizable entourage toward the big stable, her large, official motorhome parked on the other side. Butter moved on ahead, opening the door for Terri and her guests.

  Nick was waiting inside, a water pitcher and glasses sitting on the main salon table. Terri indicated the two hostile leaders should sit on opposite sides.

  After Terri was seated, Butter took up a position behind her, ready to protect his charge if any of the visitors felt frisky. No one seemed to notice Sheriff Watts, the tall, thin lawman standing like a statue in the corner. His uniform was perfect in every detail, including white Stetson hat, polished badge, mirrored sunglasses, and spit-shined boots.

  Nick and Bishop rounded out the meeting, each Alliance man taking a chair to keep the two antagonists separated.

  Terri pulled two single pieces of paper from the table, sliding a copy of the document in front of each captive. “There are the terms of your surrender. Please read them carefully. Both are identical, both contain the exact same wording in English and Spanish.”

  “Surrender!” Culpepper exclaimed. “I haven’t surrendered to anyone!”

  Nick grunted, indicating the corral with his hand. “Sir, I have all of your men on their knees. I have confiscated all of their weapons, horses, and your property. I have 300 assault troops on your ranch, and can call in gunships, artillery, and front-line armor, if necessary. You, Mr. Culpepper, got your ass kicked this morning, and we didn’t even have to fire a shot. You’ve lost; so deal with it.”

  It was Bishop’s turn to address Rocco. “The Tejanos shared the same fate. One hour ago, we took down the villages, every one of the surrounding sentry posts, and all patrols. While there were shots fired, the enemy casualties were limited to three wounded, and one mule killed in action. At this time, the main village is occupied by 350 soldiers from the 7th Cav.”

  “This is outrageous!” Culpepper exploded. “I am on sovereign US soil, a freeborn citizen of the United States of America. I can’t be invaded… or occupied… or whatever you want to call it.”

  Terri sneered, shaking her head. “The United States of America no longer controls Texas, sir. Nor has the Alliance incorporated your land. In addition, five days ago, you committed an act of war by attempting to murder an elected head of state, me, and two of our citizens, my husband and son. You invaded our territory with an armed force. We are completely justified in our actions. Consider yourself conquered.”

  Bishop looked at Rocco, “You’re in the same boat. You’ve admitted to crossing the Rio Grande numerous times with an armed force. We found several of your outposts on this side of the river. In addition, you held one of our citizens, Reed, against his will. We invaded Mexico this morning and now claim all territory under our control.”

  Rocco didn’t respond, his face remaining neutral. Mr. Culpepper, on the other hand, was indignant. “So what? Are you going to kill us all? Throw us in a prisoner of war gulag? This is ridiculous.”

  Terri pointed to a piece of paper no one had bothered to read. “My terms, which are non-negotiable – I suggest you both read them. As for your question regarding your future, if you don’t agree to my demands, I will have you incarcerated for the crimes I have already enumerated, and you will spend the rest of your days working on one of Sheriff Watt’s chain gangs,” she said, indicating the silent lawman in the corner.

  Before Culpepper could spout off again, Nick added, “Of course, if you would prefer a firing squad, that can be arranged as well. We’re trying to keep our prison population at a minimum.”

  Culpepper reached for the paper and began reading. Bishop pulled his knife, cutting Rocco free from the nylon tie that had been securing the captive’s hands.

  “This says that we agree to become citizens of the Alliance of West Texas, to abide by all of its laws and regulations,” the old rancher stated, looking up in surprise. “That’s it? That’s all you want?”

  Terri nodded, “Yes, that’s it. If you have a dispute, claim, issue, or are the victim of a crime, then call Sheriff Watts or other law enforcement. We are going to leave both sides with sufficient radio and communications equipment to stay in constant contact with our authorities. If you have a beef with the Tejanos, then file a police report and let professionals do their jobs.”

  She then shifted her focus to Rocco, “If you feel like Mr. Culpepper, or anyone else, breaks the law or acts against you or your people, then by all means file a complaint. We have a system of courts and judges. If folks commit violent acts, they will face arrest and imprisonment. It’s really that simple.”

  “None of this will keep them from treating us like animals. Their racial hatred and bigotry will still exist, and my people will suffer,” Rocco protested. “Nothing will change.”

  “Really?” Bishop interjected. “In these times, you’re really worried that some gringo is going to look down on you because of your skin color? I think you’ll find what God you worship, or the pigmentation of your hide doesn’t matter a hill of beans to most residents of the Alliance. We’re too focused on putting enough food on the table, and making sure babies survive at birth. If Culpepper hates you because of your race, then just go around him. You don’t need him. Let it be his loss.”

  Terri smiled at the Tejanos leader, adding, “The Alliance isn’t going to get into equal rights, fair housing, or anti-discrimination governance. The concept of trying to implement any sort of affirmative action in a post-apocalyptic society is just plain silly. Yet, crime is crime, and all people will be treated equally under the law. We don’t see any need to resurrect any of the pre-collapse exercises in social justice. They seemed intent on forcing people of different backgrounds and races to like each other. Quite frankly, our government could care less if you like each other. None of our business.”

  “Then things will be the same,” spat Rocco. “We will be denied equal standing due to age old prejudices and ancient bigotries.”

  Terri disagreed. “The world outside your little valley has changed, Rocco. Go to Meraton or Alpha, and do business with folks there who want your goods and services. I’d be stunned if someone treated you differently because of your skin color or native language. Nobody has time for that anymore. Life is difficult enough without adding on the layer of additional hate you’re referring to. People simply don’t have the energy. And if someone does look down upon you, then to hell with them. Our leaders won’t discriminate, our government won’t allow institutional prejudice, and our police won’t act with bigotry. In the end, that’s all that matters. All men are created equal. All men are equal under the eyes of our law. What they do with that equality going forward is up to the individual.”

  Mr. Culpepper still didn’t get it. “What’s keeping those animals from sneaking across the border and stealing my salt or cattle or worse?”

  Sheriff Watts stepped forward, “Then you call my people, and we’ll handle it. You have the right to defend your property and life, just like before the collapse. But if you go taking other matters into your own hands, then you’ll be considered a vigilante and a criminal, just like before. There will be a civil society in my jurisdiction, gentlemen. That’s my job, and I take it seriously.

  Nick added, “I’m going to maintain a significant force in this area, at least until things cool down. We won’t tolerate vigilantes from either side of the Rio Grande.”

  “Bottom line,” Terri concluded, “We are going to have rule of law. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. Either play by the rules or go to jail. Every man and woman on both sides of your dispute will be required to sign
the document in front of you. This war is over gentlemen, so you’re going to have to find someone else to hate.”

  She then produced two pens, sliding one across to each man. Both signed.

  The council chambers were filled to capacity, word having spread quickly that today’s meeting was extra special.

  Terri entered the room last, dressed in a mid-length, blue skirt and conservative white blouse. She carried a single piece of paper, taking her usual seat at the head of the table.

  Bishop was behind her, holding Hunter, who was completely occupied with a brightly colored pacifier.

  Pete called the meeting to order, nodding at Terri to open.

  “Thank you all for attending, I know everyone’s schedule has been extremely difficult these last few months. I would not have called a mandatory meeting were it not for an urgent matter that affects all of us.”

  She paused, looking around the room, smiling at every face. After completing the circuit, she turned over the sheet of paper and said, “I would like to read this to all of you. Effective immediately, I hereby resign my position as President of the Alliance Council.”

  Sounds of shock and surprise rippled through the gathered onlookers, as well as those seated at the council table. Diana started to say something, but a glance from Terri stopped her short.

  “It has been my greatest honor to serve with this esteemed body. I count all of you as friends and adored colleagues,” she continued reading. “My reasons are simple and honest. I want to spend more time with my family, be a factor in my child’s life, and get back to a simpler existence. God bless each and every one of you. God bless Texas.”

  She looked up with a smile and a single tear rolling down her cheek.

  “Terri, why don’t you take some time off and think this over,” Diana suggested. “We need you now more than ever. I know it’s been especially difficult on you the last few months, but things will get better. Take a break and recharge your batteries. Then make this decision.”

  Several heads around the table nodded their agreement.

  “No, thank you, but no. Bishop and I have talked this over extensively, debated the pros and cons until the wee hours of the morning. I want to be with my husband and son; I want to rebuild our lives. The Alliance is strong and growing stronger. I’ve done my best to contribute, but the time for me to move on is now.”

  Protests and small conversations broke out all around the room, the din increasing until Diana called out, “Order! Order! We will have order in these chambers.”

  Pete waited until things quieted down, his voice solemn and clear. “I don’t blame you, Terri. Not one bit. Let me be the first to express my support. I’m sure this was a difficult decision. If there’s anything you and Bishop need, just let me know. I wish you both all the happiness in the world.”

  Using a handkerchief, Terri dabbed at her watering eyes. “Thank you, Pete, that means a lot to me,” she said softly.

  One by one, the council members expressed similar sentiments, their words of love and support bringing everyone’s emotions to the surface. There was hardly a dry eye in the room; even Nick’s throat grew tight as the acknowledgments of Terri’s service and sacrifice were verbalized.

  Throughout it all, Bishop stood behind his wife, holding Hunter with one hand, the other lending comfort on his wife’s shoulder.

  And then she rose, flashing her warmest smile around the room, and made for the door.

  It was D.A. Gibson who stood first, her hands coming together in applause. Moments later, the entire gathering was on its feet, clapping loudly as Terri left the room, not daring to look back.

  She rushed down the courthouse hall, a plethora of emotions welling up inside. Bishop was there, as well as Hunter, ready to comfort or support. Terri stopped midway to the exit, leaning against the wall as if she couldn’t walk any further.

  Bishop knew she was full of resolve to resign, the idea having been hers from the beginning. He also understood that didn’t make it all any easier. She rested her head against his shoulder, intense sobs racking her frame.

  Hunter reached over, his tiny hand touching her head. It was a cute, wonderful gesture of love and concern. It made both of them smile and broke the spell of Terri’s remorse.

  Still sniffling, she reached for her son, taking him in a tight embrace. “I have a surprise for you today, young man,” she cooed. “You’ve never tasted ice cream, and I know where there’s a hidden stash.”

  It was Bishop who got excited by the announcement, “You what? You know where there’s ice cream?”

  “Sure do. Now if you both behave like good little boys, mommy will share,” she teased. “Come along now. Look both ways before crossing the street outside, blow your nose, and don’t run with any sharp objects in your hand.”

  Chapter 14

  Bishop stood looking at his garden plot, what should have been a mini-oasis in the center of the arid wasteland. For some reason, he just couldn’t get anything to prosper. “I’ve got a black thumb,” he confessed to the struggling row of beans.

  Hunter’s laughter echoed across the canyon, Terri pushing the boy on the new swing Bishop had secured to the overhang. He’d even installed a seat belt at his wife’s request, mom worried that her son was still too young to properly hang on.

  His thoughts drifted back to gardening, the frustrations over what he considered a “black art," were nearing the point of asking for help. “I’ll just drive through Alpha until I spot the best looking patch, kidnap the owners, and then force them at gunpoint to divulge their green thumb secrets,” he mused.

  Another bout of squealing happiness erupted from the swing, Hunter’s latest thrill being a ride in his mother’s lap while she pumped higher and higher.

  With an adoring smile, Bishop watched them together for a few minutes. Finally deciding he was thirsty, the Texan turned and headed toward the huge motorhome now parked where the old camper had once resided.

  Diana and Nick had demanded Terri accept the RV as a gift, calling it an “earned severance.” Terri had finally agreed, but only on a temporary basis. Bishop and she already had an appointment with an architect in Midland Station, the talented man agreeing to design the perfect home for their canyon retreat.

  Bishop intended to build as much of the new house as he could, hoping to reduce expenses. They were starting over, after all.

  It had taken two bulldozers an entire day to move enough boulders so the behemoth motorhome could fit. Bishop had been melancholy when one of the tracked earthmovers had connected a chain and pulled the burned-out shell of the original camper into the desert. There, the tractor had excavated a trench and buried the smelly carcass. He pondered erecting a monument over the gravesite, but decided he had better things to do.

  There was also a brand new pickup sitting beside the RV. Again, Nick had been adamant that Bishop accept the vehicle, noting how many times the Texan had used his own personal wheels on official Alliance business. “After all, you’re still leading one of our SAINT teams, and you never know when we’ll have to call on you for a mission,” the big man had reminded him.

  Entering the RV, a blast of cool air washed over his face. They had consistent electrical power now, courtesy of the underground diesel tank installed while the bulldozers were handy.

  He pulled a pitcher of water out of the fridge, relishing the cold liquid while wondering how they’d ever survived without refrigeration or air conditioning. Now if he could just get pizza delivered and Monday night football on TV, life would be perfect.

  Terri’s voice brought him back to the here and now, something in her tone indicating she was worried. Thinking the swing had come loose and she might be hurt, he rushed for the door.

  He didn’t have to ask what the trouble was, the distant rumble of a helicopter the unmistakable origin of her concern. “Were you expecting Nick?” she called across the canyon.

  “Nope. There’s no one on the guest list today.”

  The sound g
rew intense, both of them peering around the rim of surrounding rock, trying to pinpoint the machine’s direction.

  Bishop ducked, and Terri yelped when the Apache gunship soared overhead, the low flying warbird not more than 50 feet off the ground. They both watched as the machine slowed over the mouth of their valley, coming to a hover, and then whirling to face the stunned couple.

  “What the hell,” Bishop hissed, moving for the bat cave and waving for Terri to do the same. She hadn’t needed any prompting, already clutching Hunter close, and moving quickly toward the rock room’s entrance.

  Bishop was halfway there, already thinking about which rifle he was going to use to defend his property and furious over the need to do so. He paused when the second helicopter roared overhead, this one an unarmed Blackhawk. The Texan noted several faces staring down at him, all the visible men inside wearing helmets and combat gear.

  A string of curses was just forming in his throat when a third bird appeared, another transport unit slowing to hover at the mouth of the canyon.

  Bishop rushed into the bat cave, pulling his favorite M4 off the wall, grabbing and stuffing magazines into his pockets. Terri threw him a worried look while she helped him into his armor. “Who did you piss off now,” she joked, trying to lighten the moment.

  “I don’t know, but he must be one powerful dude. Maybe it’s your boyfriend, and he’s sick of waiting for me to move on.”

  He exited the bat cave just in time to see several troops pouring out of the first Blackhawk, the rifle squad-sized unit spreading out, heading directly for Bishop’s new RV. They must want the truck, he mused. It is the latest model, and that color is difficult to find these days.

  Then came the second transport, men in casual dress slacks and sports coats jumping out first. There was too much dust and dirt flying through the air for Bishop to see much detail. The hovering, evil looking gunship was still perfectly visible, however, standing guard over the ground-level deployment.