Lone Valley: A Fresh Start (Mountain Man Book 6)

by Nathan Jones

  Before he could reply she was halfway across the yard, refusing to even glance his way the entire time.

  Feeling like he'd just been through a whirlwind, Skyler shoved the rest of his food into his mouth and stumped over to his sentry position. It let him see northwest, with a view of the squatters' thicket, west, southwest, and south. That wasn't ideal for offering a full 360 degree view of all approaches, but it was the best situated to cover close to half the approaches.

  Also he and Bob had agreed the bandits would either come directly from camp if they were feeling bold, or from the south or southwest if they were feeling sneaky, so it would be best for Skyler to take the position that could cover those approaches.

  That left Bob to cover the northern approaches, Lisa the eastern, and Jared the southern. With all of them having overlapping fields of fire, and secondary positions they could fall back to where they could cover each other once they knew which way Randall's gang was coming from, it was the best they could do on short notice for a solid defense.

  They'd also agreed that the most likely time for the squatters to attack was at night. Jared had volunteered to patrol until sundown, so now was the time for everyone else to catch a nap while they could.

  Which Skyler fully intended to do. He just had to hope the ranch hand's jealousy and pride wouldn't get in the way of waking him up if there was a problem.

  Jared couldn't be that stupid, could he?

  It was a chance Skyler was willing to take; after long days on the road followed by a hard half day of work and then all the excitement of finding Lisa and her family and dealing with Randall's gang, he had a bit of sleep to catch up on. He could do without it in a pinch, he'd endured far worse when the situation demanded it, but for his friends' sake he wanted to be at his best.

  Being out on the road had given him fairly solid sleeping habits, going to bed a few hours after dark and waking an hour or so before first light, depending on time of year and length of night. Only in times of trouble did he deviate from that pattern.

  Maybe that was why the naps he took to catch up on sleep were always troubled by bad dreams.

  Although to be fair, he'd suffered from those ever since he was nine years old. Sometimes about his last awful glimpses of his dad Miles in his wasted state dying of radiation poisoning, although more often he dreamed of that terrible night outside Newpost, when he'd saved his mom from those two Sangue soldiers. And he'd had a resurgence of nightmares in the aftermath of the Mountain War, and then again with all the fights he'd been in during the last two years roaming the Northwest.

  He'd been through a lot of traumatic moments in the last ten years, so it wasn't surprising that they strongly featured in his nightmares.

  The other bad dreams he commonly had were of being back home, either the Graham family's farm in Utah Valley or the first ranch in Trapper's valley. Those ones should've been nice, to be able to see his friends and family and the places he'd felt most safe and loved again. But there was something always slightly off about them, the reunions hollow or somehow ruined, the feelings of warm nostalgia swamped by overwhelming sensations of loneliness and isolation. Leaving him to wake up miserable and desolate.

  Unsurprisingly, Lisa and Tabby often featured in those sad dreams.

  Considering the conversation he'd just had, he would've expected that to be the case during this nap, too. But instead he dreamed he was back on the old ranch, only instead of familiar faces everyone there was a stranger. And out of the corner of his eye he constantly spotted the flicker of rising flames, and smelled the reek of his home burning.

  And all the while, in the distance he heard familiar laughter, bitter and mocking.

  ✽✽✽

  Skyler woke with a start to a silhouette leaning over him, backlit by the fading light of evening.

  Before he could panic he recognized feminine curves (distractingly appealing curves, if he was being honest with himself), and realized it was Lisa. She stepped back, voice soothing. “Hate to wake you, but the sun's down and Randall might be coming soon. Figured you wouldn't want to sleep any longer.”

  “You figured right,” he said, stifling a groan as he sat up; sleeping in a sentry position hadn't become any more comfortable since the last time he'd done it.

  Not that he slept on sentry duty, of course. Only a disgrace put his people's lives at risk like that.

  Lisa settled down beside him, plopping a cloth bag she'd been carrying onto his lap. “Brought some snacks to get you through the night. Thermos of coffee in there, too.”

  “More coffee?” he repeated with a low whistle, impressed. Since the Northern League was the only real source for the stuff, it was rare and pricey. “Can count the number of times I've had that since leaving home on two hands, and your family's offered it to me twice today.”

  She poked his shoulder. “You're the one who decided to leave a comfortable life you built with your own two hands to go endure a couple years of rough living.” She paused, and he could almost see her desire to continue chiding him about also leaving Tabby and what they could've had.

  He spoke hastily before she did. “Well thanks for the coffee, and the wakeup call. Don't usually get treated to this sort of luxury on sentry duty.”

  “No problem.” His friend looked away, sounding sheepish as she continued. “Actually, to be honest I also came around looking for a bit of reassurance.” She turned back to him, big eyes glimmering with uncertainty, maybe even fear, in the fading light. “Dad's only been in a few fights, and never really developed the mindset for them. The closest I've come is a standoff, and that left me shaking for days.”

  She hesitated, then added reluctantly. “As for Jared, the experiences he's been through have proven his strength and resolve beyond a doubt, but few of those have been fighting, and most of that was with his fists.” She tucked a lock of soft brown hair behind her ear. “You've done the fighting, Sky. I guess I just want to hear you tell me you can handle thirteen ruffians.”

  Skyler met her gaze. “I was taught by Trapper, Lis. I've skirmished against bloodies, hunted bandits and Sangue deserters, and brought down just about every type of big game in these parts. I can't promise you I can take on a group this big single-handedly, at least not while defending a stationary target like this ranch. But I can promise that every enemy I shoot will stay down.”

  That obviously wasn't the reassurance Lisa was looking for, judging by her troubled look. He briefly rested a hand on her shoulder. “Bandits aren't soldiers, and they certainly don't have the resolve of protecting their property and loved ones. They prey on easy targets if they think the risk is worth the reward. All we have to do is show them we're too tough a nut to crack, and they'll ride on.”

  He gave her a lopsided smile. “That, I could probably do single-handedly. With your help, we'll send them packing no problem.”

  His friend smiled back tentatively, although she still looked scared. Skyler had a sudden thought and quickly took off his coat so he could begin removing his body armor. All the while reproaching himself for not thinking of this the moment he realized there might be a fight, and she was going to be part of it defending her ranch.

  Lisa watched him in confusion. “Sky?”

  He shrugged out of the flak jacket and held it open. “Here, turn around. We'll put it on over your coat . . . it might still be a bit big on you, but it'll do the job.”

  She protested feebly as he helped her into the body armor. “I can't ask you to give me this when you're already risking your life for us!”

  Skyler snorted. “You honestly think I'd wear it knowing you were unprotected? I've been in enough fights that I can make do without it, but I'd never forgive myself if you got hurt when I could've prevented it.”

  His friend didn't raise any more arguments as he got the vest on and tightened as much as he could; it was still too big, especially lengthwise, but that just meant a tradeoff of offering more protection while restricting her movement a bit.

&
nbsp; Once he was sure the flak jacket was fitted as well as he could make it, he settled down beside her again and pulled his coat back on. Then he tried not to jump in surprise as she reached up and lightly touched his left cheek, just below the eye.

  “You really have been in a lot of fights since I left, haven't you?” she murmured quietly. “With all the stories you've told me, I'm surprised you don't have more scars. Just this tiny one I can see.”

  He felt his face flushing, feeling a sharp sense of deja vu. Before he'd gone off skirmishing during the Mountain War, Tabby had touched his cheek almost exactly like that, asking if he thought the healing cut there would leave a scar.

  It hurt to think of her, especially now that he knew he'd left her for nothing. He was such an idiot.

  With effort, he forced lightness into his tone as he replied. “Ironically, I got this scar from a flying rock chip.”

  “All the battles you've been through, and the one scar you have isn't from fighting at all?” Lisa teased.

  Actually, Skyler had more than a few scars out of sight beneath his hair and clothes. And those were just the physical ones. He shifted uncomfortably. “Well, it was thrown by a ricochet.” She stared at him, and he shrugged. “After we hit Emery, Trapper and Sheriff Gray were fleeing with a small group. You remember that mountain slope just north of the ranch valley, with the cliffs to the northwest?”

  The one where Tabby told me if I left it was over between us.

  His friend nodded, and he forced himself not to think of the amazing girl he'd left at home as he continued. “Well a bunch of Sangue on horseback rode up that canyon leading up from just north of Emery and chased them to those cliffs. They wouldn't have made it, but I slowed the bloodies down just enough for them to reach safety.”

  He touched his cheek, thinking of how Trapper had split off from the others to come help him get away. At the time he'd been bitter about it, since the two of them couldn't make it away riding double on Surly, so he'd been forced to abandon his beloved gelding and flee up a box canyon on foot.

  Now, however, he could see the pure love with which his dad had thrown away his own chance to escape to protect his son. The wrong choice in hindsight with all the information available, but in the same circumstances Skyler would've done the exact same thing.

  And he loved Trapper for it.

  He cleared his throat. “Anyway, to get away me and Trapper had to climb up the cliffs of that one box canyon we explored once, remember? The one we called the Robber's Hideout?” Lisa nodded, brightening. “Some bloodies chased us, so it was pretty hairy.”

  “Hairy?” she repeated in amazement. “Trying to climb with enemies shooting at you, doing your best to cover each other? Sounds like a nightmare . . . I'm impressed you walked away with just this little scar.”

  “I know, right? Compared to facing Sangue, some disgraced old has-been and his thugs are a joke.”

  His friend laughed, although the reminder of their current situation obviously troubled her. “I've missed you, Sky. We may have missed out on all these years of friendship, but I hope we can pick up where we left off.”

  Skyler snorted, doing his best to keep the bitterness out of his voice. “Well, not exactly where we left off. I can't believe if I'd just come a few months earlier we might've still had a chance . . .”

  Her expression became carefully neutral, and without a word she retrieved the food bag she'd given him and felt around in it. She withdrew a handful of something and held it out. “Here.”

  He hesitantly accepted the gift, which turned out to be a bunch of tiny dried blueberries. “Um, thanks?” Was she telling him to shut up and eat some food? He ignored the hint and bulled on. “Look, I get that you probably don't want to talk about-”

  “Skyler,” Lisa cut in gently, closing his fingers around the blueberries. “Do I have to give you another handful?” He stared at her blankly, and she looked back with those big dark eyes full of gentle sorrow. “That line of discussion bears little fruit.”

  It took him a second, then he stifled a groan. Even Trapper would roll his eyes at that pun. “This isn't a joke to me.”

  “And you think it's one to me?” She looked away, blinking quickly. “You were my best friend for most of my childhood, Sky. You got me through one of the worst times of my life. I'll always love you for that. But anything we shared was a long time ago, and I'm happy with Jared. If you care about me, please be happy for me, too.”

  Skyler had known she'd say something like that when he pressed the issue, but the words still cut him to the core. He could accept that she'd moved on, could even accept that she was happy with that abrasive little-

  He stood up abruptly. “Sorry. I-I need a minute.” Even though it meant abandoning his sentry post, he hurriedly walked off before she could reply. He should do a patrol of the ranch before full dark, anyway.

  Lisa didn't say anything as he left, although when he snuck a glance over his shoulder he spotted her looking after him sadly. The sight sent a pang of guilt through him, but only served to make him feel even more desolate about this missed opportunity with his oldest and closest friend.

  Happy for her? He loved her and wanted her to be happy, so he supposed if she was really going to marry Jared then he wanted to feel that way for her sake. But he wasn't there yet.

  The way he was hurting right now, maybe he never would be.

  Chapter Seven

  In the Dark

  Given Skyler's experience fighting in clever and well trained militias against invading soldiers hardened by years of brutal conflict, he knew that the best time for a night attack was just before dawn.

  No matter how disciplined and wary your enemy, it was just human nature that vigilance was at its lowest by that point. Sentries would be exhausted from a night of watching the darkness, or their relief would be bleary from just being awakened. A peaceful night would've lulled people into a false sense of security, and the hint of predawn glow would have people thinking the danger was past.

  A canny leader might have sentry schedules specifically arranged so that time period would come when his people were most alert, but that was easier said than done. And tended to come with its own problems in extra manpower, blows to morale, and thrown off schedules for the day's activities.

  In any case, if defending against predawn attacks presented difficulties, staging one came with its own set of problems. Attacking soldiers would have equal difficulty with alertness after either staying up all night or being awakened early for the attack. Visibility was also a problem, so extra coordination was needed to prevent friendly fire, mass confusion leading to even the most carefully laid plans falling apart, and even open retreat if attackers got the idea the attack was going poorly, even if it wasn't.

  But that was all just a longwinded way of saying that it took a patient, determined, and disciplined force to stage a competent attack before dawn. Which was why Skyler had predicted Randall would attack shortly after dark.

  He was half right: the man was at least patient enough to wait until midnight.

  His first warning of trouble was Bob's voice ringing stridently out into the darkness, some sort of warning to get off his property. That immediately told Skyler two things: first, confirmed by a quick inspection of his section of the perimeter, that the enemy hadn't split their forces to come from all sides, and more importantly weren't approaching from either of the directions he'd predicted.

  Which meant he was out of position and needed to move, fast.

  The second thing it told him, as he ducked low to run behind a low stone fence to his fallback position that offered a view north and east, was that Bob's loud warning had completely blown the element of surprise. Skyler supposed it was ethically laudable, as a last attempt to avoid bloodshed with the ruffians who'd snuck onto his property in the night to attack him and his family.

  Tactically speaking, though, that was a few shots on unsuspecting enemies the rancher had passed up. Not to mention up to ten s
econds of surprise and confusion they could've used to their advantage, and a chance to send Randall's gang fleeing back to their camp with the first volley from a ranch that turned out to be well defended even at this hour.

  Instead, the only response to Bob's kindhearted gesture was a deafening barrage of gunfire, almost certainly all from the attackers.

  Cursing, Skyler picked up his pace. The shots seemed to be coming from the east, Lisa's position, which was only partially covered by Bob and Jared. That had been the direction they'd least expected Randall to come from, since it was all open grassland there with no good hiding places to use sneaking up on the ranch. Which was why she'd been stationed there.

  And now up to thirteen men were shooting at the woman he loved, while he'd been sitting around like an idiot on the other side of the yard.

  He rounded the northern side of the ranch house to the view of several shadowy silhouettes approaching swiftly across the grassland. They were regularly lit by the star pattern of shots fired, which made him duck lower behind the fence in spite of himself as he continued in a scuttle toward his fallback position.

  The attackers were all on horseback, approaching at a gallop and spreading out quickly and erratically to surround the ranch. From the positioning Skyler guessed the gang had all come together in a clump, then began scattering in a hurry once they realized they were discovered and multiple defenders were shooting back at them.

  The gunfire the attackers laid down from the saddle couldn't have been very accurate, and did a great job of showing exactly where every member of Randall's gang was so Skyler didn't have to squint for silhouettes in the dark.

  On the one hand that might serve to keep the heads of any defenders down, but if Skyler had been leading that attack he would've had his men duck their heads and ride as fast as they trusted their horses to move in the darkness, trusting to the cloak of night and the confusion of so many approaching targets to cover them until they got close enough for accurate return fire.