by Bobby Akart
She nodded, but Duncan didn’t see her as he slipped down the darkened hallway toward the two downstairs guest bedrooms. He drew the silenced pistol and moved slowly across the floor, which had shards of broken glass on it. Duncan was puzzled initially, as there were no windows in this part of the house, and then he found the pile of broken picture frames swept into an open closet.
He instantly recalled what the photo frames contained, and he became enraged. “Animals,” he muttered as he entered the first room and skillfully delivered two bullets to the brain of the occupant of the first bed.
Returning to the hallway, he made his way to the second bedroom. He turned the knob of the closed door. A piece of furniture was blocking it.
“Crap,” he muttered to himself. Whoever was located in this bedroom had had the presence of mind to barricade the door, as none of the interior doors to the house had locks on them. If he forced his way in, they’d be alarmed, and a shoot-out would ensue.
Duncan pushed the door inward a little more, moving it forward slightly with each effort. After a minute, he was able to see the foot of the bed. He was taking up precious time as he deliberately created a wider opening. He glanced at his watch. It was approaching 4:00—the time when all hell was going to break loose.
He nudged the door again as he created a wider gap. More of the sleeping man could be seen on the bed. Another push and his head would be in view. Duncan closed his eyes, focusing all of his senses on his movements and the sounds in the deathly quiet ranch house. One more time and he’d have the angle to take a shot.
There! That’s all I need!
Duncan slid the silenced barrel of the gun through the crack and took aim. The spitting sound preceded the bullets entering the body of the commando, which rose off the bed with each shot. Duncan fired twice into the man’s torso and placed a third shot in the head. The downstairs was clear.
Even though this magazine still had a few rounds in it, he quickly replaced it with a full one. He had another one available in his kit, but he hopefully wouldn’t need to use it. He made his way back to the family room, where Sook was waiting.
“Good?” she asked.
“Very good,” said Duncan as he nodded toward the stairwell. “Stay a few steps behind me.”
As instructed, Sook followed as Duncan readied his rifle and led the way. If Holloway or any of his men upstairs heard them, knives and pistols would be insufficient from this point forward.
Just as Duncan reached the third step of a dozen, gunfire erupted on the ranch.
Chapter 23
January 24
The Armstrong Ranch
Borden County, Texas
Major knew his sons well, especially the emotionally charged Riley. Cooper would have to muster all of his patience and convincing abilities to keep his brother under control. As kids, Riley was never one to enjoy fishing with Palmer and Cooper. He was too hyper, but not in a pump-the-kid-full-of-Adderall sort of way. Riley liked to do stuff, and the concept of baiting a hook, dropping it into the lake, and waiting was not for him. He’d rather grab his Daddy’s shotgun and blast the dang fish out of the water to get instant gratification.
His approach to staking out the south gate guard tower was no different. Several times, Cooper had to talk him out of running to the tower, climbing up the stairs, and tearin’ into those guys, as Riley put it.
Duncan checked his watch, and it was approaching four a.m.
“It’s almost time, Riley. Get ready. You spray the sides of the guardhouse with automatic fire while I focus on the first head that pops up over the rail.”
“Like Whac-A-Mole,” said Riley with a laugh.
“Exactly. One at a time if necessary. But we’ll get ’em.”
A few minutes later, Cooper’s radio squawked to life. It was their dad.
“Boys, it’s time. Light ’em up!”
Riley immediately obliged. He rose to one knee and took aim. In quick spurts of a few rounds each, he found his distance and splintered the walls of the building.
Still a few hours away from sunrise, Cooper studied the reaction of the commandos the best he could in the minimal amount of light afforded by the stars. They’d caught the two men off guard, as indicated by their return fire. Rather than stand and shoot, both of them reached their rifles over the top of the wall and fired into the sky well above Cooper’s and Riley’s heads.
“Again!” shouted Cooper, prompting Riley to spray more bullets along the side.
“I think they’re afraid,” said Riley, who stopped shooting.
The quiet was interrupted by the sound of approaching vehicles from the ranch house. As Duncan had predicted, commandos were being dispatched from the ranch house compound to assist their comrades. Cooper was comforted in knowing that his dad and sister would ambush them, but he and Riley weren’t in position as required to take them out completely.
“This ain’t workin’!” exclaimed Cooper.
“I’m gonna keep pouring rounds into the space between the boards,” Riley shouted as he opened fire once again.
Cooper stood against the rail of the fence and blocked out the approaching vehicles. He waited for an opportunity. One of the shooters finally revealed himself, and Cooper was ready. Cooper’s quick reaction sealed the commando’s fate.
In the blink of an eye following the squeeze of the trigger on the powerful .308-caliber hunting rifle, Cooper shot the man in the neck and threw him against the other half wall of the structure.
Cooper immediately shouted instructions to his brother. “Move! We’ve got to stop the cars headed our way.”
The boys turned and ran down the fence row toward the point where they were across from the silos a couple of thousand feet away. From this distance, their shots at the vehicles, which were traveling equidistant between their position and the silos, might not be accurate, but they would serve to distract and pull the commandos away from the ranch.
Riley bolted past his brother with his fully automatic battle rifle courtesy of the Camp Lubbock armory. As he did, Cooper had a thought as there was a momentary cessation of gunfire. He slid to a stop and returned to the edge of the fence. He pulled the bolt mechanism and inserted a round into the chamber. He pointed his rifle at the guard tower once again and prepared to fire.
His gut instinct was right. The commando, most likely curious about the approaching trucks or out of a false sense of security, stuck his head above the rail to get a better look. It was all Cooper needed, who had been an expert marksman with a hunting rifle since he was a teenager.
The unexpected retort of the rifle caused Riley to stumble behind him, but the bullet found its mark, accomplishing the first part of their mission. Both of the guards were dead or seriously wounded.
Cooper finally caught up to Riley, who had opened fire upon the vehicles. The lead truck had been disabled and stopped dead in its tracks with the headlights burning. Another continued toward the guard tower, but gunfire from the direction of the silos caused them to slow. Riley’s continuous assault on the commandos forced one of them to veer off the driveway and head in their direction.
When the truck stopped bouncing across the rough terrain and found a smoother surface, its headlights illuminated Cooper and Riley near the fence.
“Dang it!” shouted Riley as he continued to fire from a crouch. The commandos began to return fire.
“We gotta go!” shouted Cooper as he slapped his brother on the back and began to run toward their horses.
Riley ignored his brother and continued to fire at the truck. He managed to shoot out one of the truck’s headlights before he ran out of ammunition. He released the magazine, pocketed it, and began to run after his brother while he slapped another magazine into the rifle. He tugged on the charging handle and dove behind an oil well for protection as shots tore up the ground beside them.
“We gotta take a stand, Coop! There’s no way to outrun them.”
Cooper looked around him. The oil wells were their on
ly source of cover but not a bad option. The steel and concrete structures gave them plenty to hide behind as they engaged the oncoming shooters. The key was to stop them before they enjoyed the cover of the oil wells too. Then the guys would be at a distinct disadvantage against the men with superior training and automatic weapons to counter Cooper’s hunting rifle.
“Okay, right here. Stay spread apart. We’ve gotta stop them in their tracks.”
“You shoot out the radiator, and I’ll focus on the tires,” Riley shouted back.
Riley immediately began to fire at the vehicle’s wheel wells, resulting in the metallic sound of bullets colliding with the fenders of the truck.
Cooper did his part, sending round after round toward the massive front grille of the pickup. Their efforts were rewarded, as a loud hissing sound could be heard followed by an explosion as the truck began to swerve back and forth. Both of the guys had found their mark.
“Should we shoot out the headlights?” Riley hollered his question to his brother through the oil field.
Cooper quickly responded, “No! Now we can see them comin’.”
He focused on movement around the truck. Why aren’t they bailing out? How many are still inside? He waited and listened.
When he heard the sound of breaking glass, he realized that he and Riley were blinded to any activity inside or to the rear of the truck.
“They’re going through the rear window, Riley. Let ’em have it!”
Both guys began shooting at the front windshield, easily blowing it backwards into the cab. The sounds of screams and groans encouraged them to continue.
Riley yelled to his brother, “Coop! Get the horses! We’re gonna have to chase them, or they’ll run straight for the silos. Daddy and Palmer would be outnumbered.”
Cooper responded as he shouldered his rifle and ran back toward the horses. “Shoot out the headlights so they can’t see us! I’ll be back!”
Riley rained bullets onto the truck, destroying the headlights and killing one of the commandos as he attempted to exit the front seat and shoot back. Cooper quickly returned to his side and held Riley’s rifle while he climbed onto his saddle.
After Cooper returned his rifle, Riley slung it over his shoulder. “Coop, we’ve got to hurry. C’mon!”
Riley took off, and Cooper shouted after him, “Pistols? The rapid gunfire will spook the horses.”
“Yeah,” replied Riley, who was putting some distance between his horse and Cooper’s. “Old West style!”
Cooper pulled his gun, dug his heels upward into his horse’s sides, and hollered, “Hee-yah!”
Soon, the guys were racing toward the abandoned pickup and chasing two men who’d split apart but were both running in the direction of the third pickup, which was slowly approaching the silos.
“We’re gainin’ on ’em!” shouted Riley before the men turned and fired in their direction. Riley returned fire with his pistol and caught one of the men in the arm, who promptly dropped his rifle. He took off toward the right, and Riley gave chase.
“I got this guy!” shouted Cooper, who shot the man in the leg, causing him to tumble head over heels to the ground. Cooper leaned over his horse’s neck to speed forward toward the fleeing man. Suddenly, the commando rose out of the tall grass and fired in Cooper’s direction, spooking his horse and causing him to abruptly stop.
Cooper dismounted and crawled on his hands and knees toward the commando, who was now rolling in the tall grass. He was moaning in pain. Cooper chose to remain low to prevent the wounded man from having a better target.
He continued to move closer to the sound of the man’s groans until he saw him. Cooper didn’t hesitate as he raised his gun and fired. It took five shots to find the man in the tall grass, but the last two trigger pulls were successful.
Riley continued to chase the last commando as a gun battle ensued between his dad and sister and the commandos who’d turned toward the silos. He needed to help them, but this guy needed to be finished off first.
Riley was close and was able to get a steady aim on the commando. He squeezed the trigger to finish him off, but his gun jammed. He pulled the trigger again to no avail. Riley’s instincts kicked in, so he defaulted to what he knew best.
After holstering the pistol, he repeatedly kicked his heels into his horse and bore down on the man who was running for his life. He pulled alongside the commando and jumped from his horse, grabbing the man around the neck. Executing a perfect tackle as if the man were a steer, Riley rolled him over onto the ground, pulled his hands behind him, and placed him into the disposable cuffs given to them by Duncan.
The man tried to wiggle loose despite the pain Riley was inflicting upon him. The man’s efforts only served to aggravate Riley more, who pistol-whipped the man unconscious. Then he used a second set of cuffs to truss the man together, locking his legs to his wrists behind his back.
Cooper ran to his side. “C’mon, we need to help them at the silos. The third truck only had one guy, and he was dead, slumped over the steering wheel.”
Riley gave the gunman a kick to the ribs and said, “I’m ready.”
The guys pulled their rifles over their heads and began to run toward the silos, where the shooting continued. As they ran, Cooper asked his brother, “Why didn’t you just shoot him?”
“I don’t know. I guess I miss steer wrestlin’.”
Chapter 24
January 24
The Armstrong Ranch
Borden County, Texas
After the guys opened fire on the guard tower, it took the rest of the commandos about five minutes to get into their vehicles and head for the south gate. Major’s goal was to take out the lead vehicle, hoping to cause a wreck and add to the confusion. He and Palmer focused on this task and successfully shot out the tires, bringing the truck to an abrupt halt. When the driver rolled down the passenger-side window and began firing toward the silos, Major sent several well-targeted rounds in return fire and killed the lone occupant of the vehicle.
“Daddy! One of the trucks is turning our way!” Palmer swung her rifle in the direction of the pickup, which swerved to avoid a collision with the lead vehicle and then drove toward the silos.
“I see it! The other one is headed toward the boys. Hang tough, honey. This is what we wanted.”
Suddenly, bullets tore into the tall grain silos that flanked their position. By design, the silos were to be used as a rally point after the four of them engaged the sentry guards and any reinforcements. From this point on the ranch, they could run through the oak trees toward the two horse training pens and directly past the barns.
If Major and Palmer were successful, they would distract the reinforcements while Duncan moved on the ranch house. Eliminating the threat altogether was not expected but would be a plus.
After five long minutes in this firefight, Major was concerned that the men were flanking their position. The silos, while large, were cylindrical. They didn’t provide the best cover because he and Palmer had to expose themselves to gunfire during the battle.
In the opening minutes of them exchanging rounds with their attackers, Major and Palmer had held their own although they had only scored one casualty in the lead vehicle. Now, Major determined they were facing three or four of the commandos, who were making their way through the tall grass to ambush them. They felt pinned down and were unsure of their next move.
“Daddy, we can’t fall back. Coop and Riley might walk right into an ambush.”
Major took a deep breath and looked around them for a solution. “The other problem is that I can’t tell the difference between the commandos and the boys approaching us from the south. I don’t wanna shoot one of them by mistake.”
Palmer glanced around the silo. The gunmen had stopped firing for the moment, as did Riley and Cooper.
“Daddy, we can’t abandon our position or the guys. Let’s raise them on the radio.”
“I don’t know, honey. That’s risky. In the tall grasses, th
ey might get exposed by the sound.”
The stalemate continued for another moment until the sounds of gunshots startled them.
“That’s coming from the house!” exclaimed Palmer. “What do you wanna do?”
Major peeked around the curved structure. He saw movement in the grasses. Several men appeared to be running toward the razed barn. He motioned for his daughter to follow him.
“C’mon! This is our chance to cut them off.”
Major moved past the last silo and ran through the trees toward the horse pen. The shortest route to the house was along the outside of the fence toward the location of the burned-out barn. They’d always kept a ten-foot-wide strip mowed so the horses penned up in the enclosure wouldn’t attempt to reach the grasses. The commandos would naturally seek the path of least resistance, and Major planned on being ready for them.
“Here they come,” said Palmer in a whisper.
“I’ll take the front guys, and you take the ones to the rear,” Major instructed as he drew his aim on the clearing.
As the gunfire coming from the ranch house subsided momentarily, they could hear the rustling sound of the men running through the hayfield. The shuffling of their heavy footsteps grew louder, which indicated they were getting closer.
He whispered to Palmer, “Wait until they all hit the clearing, and then fire after I do.”
“Okay,” she muttered.
The hunters stalked their prey. The first man appeared, shuffling through the grasses. Then like the ballplayers in Field of Dreams, two more emerged. Major had to decide. If he didn’t shoot now, they’d get past their position. He slid his finger on the trigger and thought, Is there a fourth man?
He couldn’t wait any longer. As soon as he began to empty his magazine on the first two men, Palmer opened fire on the third, who spun around in a pirouette, firing his rifle into the air until he dropped to the ground.
Major walked toward them. “Be careful. There could be one more.”
