“Monday?” Finley repeated in confusion. “I thought he had sixty days to vacate the ranch.”
“Timetable’s been moved up,” Grayson said as he reached for the bottle of whiskey next to the briefcase. “We’re taking possession of the ranch Monday, and if Brannock resists, he and anybody who takes his side will be placed in federal custody. The gloves, gentlemen, are off.”
And it was damned well about time, Grayson thought as he poured himself another drink.
Chapter 40
Miranda had checked in with G. W. every day by phone, but she hadn’t been out to the ranch since the day Kyle got out of the hospital. He missed seeing her, but he knew she was probably working hard on his grandfather’s behalf.
When she heard about the waterhole being poisoned, though, she came out to see the results for herself.
“I still haven’t heard back from the governor’s office yet,” she said as she took pictures of the dead cows, “but I’m working on something else. It’s not going to hurt to have public opinion on our side, and this could help with that.”
“I don’t reckon I understand,” G.W. said.
She turned her phone around so that he and Kyle could see the screen. It displayed a landscape shot that Kyle knew had been taken here on the ranch, and superimposed over the photograph in a brightly colored, easy-to-read font were the words STAND WITH G.W.
“What in blazes is that?” G.W. asked.
“It’s a Web page devoted to your efforts to keep the government from stealing your ranch from you,” Miranda explained. “I’m posting it on all the different social media platforms and updating it several times a day. You have more than five thousand likes on this one already.”
G.W. shook his head and said, “I have no idea what you’re talkin’ about.”
“I do,” Kyle said as he felt excitement growing in him, “and I think it’s a great idea. People all over the country—shoot, all over the world—are finding out what the government’s trying to do to you, G.W., and they don’t like it.”
“I thought Miranda just said they do like it,” G.W. said with a frown.
“No, they like the page—” Miranda began. She stopped and tapped on her phone’s screen for a moment. “Just let me post those pictures I took, and we ought to see plenty of comments right away disapproving of what the BLM has done here.”
“You mean people are gonna believe us over the BLM?”
“A lot of people will. Sure, there’s plenty of craziness on the Internet, but the truth has a way of getting out there, too, and when enough people see it, they realize it.”
Kyle said, “So we wage a war for public opinion?”
“It can’t hurt,” Miranda said.
That was probably true, he thought . . . but now that he thought about it, he couldn’t really see how it was going to help much, either. All the Internet outrage in the world wasn’t going to bring those dead cows back, and it wouldn’t stop Slade Grayson and the BLM, either.
“I suppose the vet confirmed that the cattle were poisoned?” she asked.
“Yeah,” G.W. said, “although he couldn’t tell exactly what it was.”
“He took tissue samples and samples of the water back to town with him to analyze them,” Kyle put in. “He said he’d let us know if he found out anything definite.”
“I’ll add that to the post,” Miranda said.
They had come out here in G.W.’s pickup, the three of them crowded into the front seat with Miranda in the middle. Kyle hadn’t minded that at all.
Now, as they started back toward the truck, G.W. went on ahead, leaving Kyle and Miranda to follow. She asked quietly, “How are you doing? I haven’t talked to you in several days.”
“I know,” he said.
“I’ve been busy researching other cases and all the laws regarding the concept of eminent domain. That’s not exactly what this is, of course. The government’s not condemning the property to take it and use it for the public good. This is a land grab, pure and simple. We have to make sure everyone sees it as such.”
“Seems like you’ve got a good start on that. And to answer your question, I’m all right. Doing better every day. I don’t yelp when I climb out of bed in the morning or take a deep breath, and that’s a big improvement over the first day or so.”
“I’m glad.” She changed the subject by asking, “G.W. has a computer, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah, and Internet access, although he’s never done much with it.”
“Then you can take part in this social media campaign.”
“Yeah, I suppose,” Kyle said.
She looked over at him and said, “You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”
He hadn’t wanted to throw cold water on her ideas, but he had to be honest with her, too.
“You know what social media outrage is like, all sound and fury and not much else. It makes people feel good about themselves and what they believe, but I’m not sure it ever accomplishes anything else.”
Miranda shook her head and said, “I disagree. People all over the world have used it to further their causes. All the Islamic terror groups who hate us use it. There must be something to it, or people wouldn’t keep coming back to it.”
“We’ll see, I guess,” Kyle said.
“I suppose so,” Miranda said, and now her voice was a little cooler than it had been earlier.
As arguments went, this one was pretty minor, Kyle thought. Even so, he wished it hadn’t happened.
He wanted things to bring him and Miranda closer together . . . not drive them farther apart.
Doc Bryan, the veterinarian, called later that afternoon to tell G. W. that he hadn’t been able to identify the unusual element that he’d found in the sample from the waterhole. It was some sort of organic compound unknown to him, but he was confident that it was what had killed the cattle, because he had found it in their tissue samples, too.
Having reached the end of his capabilities, the doctor was sending the other samples he had taken to friends of his at the School of Veterinary Medicine at Texas A&M. They would have a better shot at identifying the compound than he would, he explained.
“If the stuff came from Grayson, there’s no telling what it might be,” Kyle said to G.W. after the phone conversation with Doc Bryan. “From what I hear, the government’s developed quite a few biological and chemical weapons that it’s kept secret. Wasn’t there some big deal a while back about a secret lab in this part of the country . . . ?”
“Casa del Diablo,” G.W. said, nodding. “Yeah, that fella who cheated his way into the White House tried to use some sort of nerve gas from there to wipe out a whole town that thumbed their noses at his gun-grabbin’ habits. That’s what made him go loco and refuse to leave office when Congress impeached and convicted him.” G.W. sighed. “I thought that might be enough to make the whole country come to its senses. Didn’t last long, though. Before you knew it, half the folks had their hands out again and were promisin’ to vote for whoever would fill ’em up. We know which bunch that is.”
“So if Grayson’s some sort of government troubleshooter, he could have gotten his hands on something very few people know about.”
G.W. nodded and said, “That’s right, and when you get right down to it, it doesn’t really matter what he or his flunkies used to poison that waterhole. What’s important is that they’re still tryin’ to run me off . . . and I’m not gonna go.”
After supper, as evening approached, G.W. went out to the barn to saddle one of his horses. Kyle went with him and said, “I’ve got a pretty good idea what you’re up to, and I’m coming with you, G.W.”
“I’m not sure you’re in any shape to sit a saddle.”
“I can ride,” Kyle insisted. “My ribs still hurt a little, but the rest of me is fine. Riding isn’t going to cause a problem.”
“Well, I don’t mind tellin’ you, it’d be good to have you along, son,” G.W. admitted. “There’s no way of knowin’ what we’re gonna
run into out there, but if it comes to trouble, you’re a good man to have beside me.”
Kyle’s heart swelled with pride. Those simple words from his grandfather meant a lot to him.
“You want me to fetch a couple of rifles while you’re saddling the horses?” he asked.
G. W. nodded and said grimly, “We’re liable to need ’em.”
Chapter 41
Warren Finley thought of himself as an amateur cartographer, and a good one, at that. One thing he had done while he and Woody Todd were exploring and taking inventory on Brannock’s ranch was to map all the waterholes in the valley.
Because of that, he wouldn’t have any trouble finding another of them to dump Grayson’s poison into. As much as the thought of killing more cattle disturbed him, he knew he would go through with it.
Handling some mysterious biological weapon scared him, but making Slade Grayson angry was an even more frightening prospect.
Finley wasn’t the only one worried. From the passenger seat of the jeep, Woody said, “I don’t like this, Warren. We’re gonna wind up getting in a lot of trouble over this. Mark my words.”
“I don’t doubt it, but what else can we do?” Finley asked. “We work for Grayson now, and he gave us an order. We have to carry it out.”
“You got the stuff?”
Finley’s hands were clenched tightly on the steering wheel as he drove across the valley without lights. He said, “Of course, I have it. What, did you think I was going to forget and leave it in the motel room?”
“Just making sure. If we have to do this, I want to get it done and get the hell outta here.” Todd paused. “Those poor cows.”
Finley knew what he meant. Neither of them were going to give up eating meat, but somehow this was different. This served no purpose except to make life more difficult for G.W. Brannock and push him closer to either surrendering or going off the deep end and giving Grayson an excuse to use force.
Finley wasn’t sure which of those options Grayson preferred, but he was starting to get an idea. He didn’t like that idea, either. He thought there was a good chance nothing short of bloodshed was going to satisfy Grayson now.
“There it is, just inside the mouth of that little canyon,” he said to his companion. He took one hand off the wheel long enough to point. “We’re almost done.”
“Grayson will just come up with some other crappy job for us to do.”
“Probably. But we’ll deal with that when the time comes.”
Finley brought the jeep to a stop about fifteen feet from the edge of the waterhole, which was a black, irregular circle in the light from the moon and stars. Both men climbed out.
“I hope this is the last time we have to do this,” Todd said.
“If Grayson goes ahead with his plans and makes his move the day after tomorrow, it should be,” Finley said.
They walked toward the pool. Finley reached up to the breast pocket of his shirt, which was buttoned closed. He unfastened it, reached inside, took out the plastic vial.
He was about to work the stopper out of its neck—oh, so carefully—when a voice said somewhere nearby, “I’d think twice before I did whatever you’re about to do, mister.”
Brannock.
Todd let out a started curse and exclaimed, “Not again!”
“I’m afraid so,” Brannock said as he and another man emerged from the shadows deeper in the canyon. There was enough light for Finley to see that both of them were armed. The rifles they pointed at him and Todd were steady, too.
Finley swallowed hard and said, “Please be careful, Mr. Brannock.”
“So it’s you two again, is it?” Brannock said disgustedly as he stalked forward. “What’s the matter, Grayson can’t do his own dirty work? He has to send somebody else to handle it for him?”
“Don’t get too close to him, G.W.,” the other man advised. That would be Brannock’s grandson Kyle, the former army ranger in training, thought Finley. “There’s no telling what that is he’s got in his hand.”
“Please, we don’t wish either of you any harm—” Finley began.
“Now that’s a damned sorry joke,” Brannock interrupted. “All you’ve been tryin’ to do is run me off the ranch that’s been in my family for generations. Seems like harm to me.”
“I understand how you feel,” Finley said. “But the situation has changed. This isn’t your ranch—”
“Just shut your trap. I don’t want to listen to that bull, especially after you varmints killed some of my cattle.”
Todd said, “We’re sorry about that.”
“Then why’d you do it?”
“We didn’t have any choice—”
“People always have a choice,” Brannock said. “It’s just that sometimes they’re hard ones. Now, we’re goin’ back to the ranch house, and I’m callin’ the sheriff. No matter what happens in the future, right now you two are trespassin’, and I’ve got a right to turn you over to the law. I reckon that bottle of devil’s brew in your hand will be evidence. I’m lookin’ forward to seein’ what the law can find out about—”
A brilliant beam of light suddenly shot out and hit both Brannocks, causing them to step back involuntarily and fling up an arm to block the blinding glare.
“Run!” another voice shouted. “Get out of here!”
The waterhole was between the BLM agents and the two Brannocks. That would slow down the pursuit. Finley and Todd turned and sprinted toward the jeep. Finley kept his hand closed tightly around the vial of poison. He didn’t want to drop it and leave it behind.
As the light snapped out, Finley expected to hear the rifles roaring and feel bullets smashing into him at any second, but that didn’t happen. The Brannocks weren’t cold-blooded killers, he supposed, and he was thankful for that. He and Todd piled into the jeep, and Finley’s hand found the key in the ignition and twisted it desperately.
The motor caught instantly. One-handed, Finley spun the wheel and tromped down on the gas at the same time. Dirt and gravel flew into the air as the tires slid and then caught. Finley headed the vehicle away from the waterhole as fast as he could.
Long moments went by before he stopped worrying about shots coming after them.
“Who . . . who the hell was that?” Todd panted.
“The man who helped us, you mean?” Finley shook his head and said, “I have no idea.”
Kyle had the butt of the Winchester snug against his shoulder. He knew he could bring down one and possibly both of the fleeing federal agents, but he hesitated as his finger tightened on the trigger.
G.W. must have been feeling the same thing, because he said, “Hold your fire, son. I don’t hold with shootin’ a man in the back, even if he is a thief.”
Kyle lowered the rifle and said, “Yeah, I know what you mean.” Bright spots still danced in front of his eyes. “What the hell happened just now?”
“Don’t know, but I intend to find out. Come on.”
They moved quickly in the direction the unexpected voice had come from, along with the blinding light. Kyle knew his grandfather hoped to catch whoever had been behind that light.
“We could be waltzing right into a trap, you know,” he said quietly.
“Yeah, but I don’t think so. That didn’t sound like a fella who’d be settin’ a trap. And it sure as blazes wasn’t Grayson.”
Kyle agreed with that. The voice of the man who had shouted to Finley and Todd had been totally different from Grayson’s smug tones.
They moved quickly along the base of the bluff near the canyon mouth where the waterhole was located. Kyle thought there was a good chance their quarry was gone by now, but then he heard rocks rattle somewhere not far ahead of them. The guy was still up there somewhere, probably trying to get away but not doing a very good job of it.
Suddenly, G.W. lifted his rifle and barked, “Hold it right there, mister! I see you, and if you move again I’ll drill you.”
Kyle doubted that his grandfather really would shoot�
��but the man who had been fleeing through the darkness didn’t know that.
As his eyes continued to adjust, Kyle spotted the figure, too. The man stood with his arms raised. As Kyle and G.W. approached warily, he said, “Don’t shoot. I’m unarmed.” He paused, then added, “Well, I have a flashlight, but that doesn’t really count, does it?”
“Just stand still and don’t make any sudden moves,” G.W. told him. “I’ve got a hunch you’re another of those government types, and I’m not overly fond o’ you boys right now. Who are you, and what’re you doin’ out here on my ranch?”
“My name is Barton Devlin,” the man replied. Kyle was close enough to him now to see moonlight reflecting off the lenses of Devlin’s glasses as he went on. “As for what I’m doing out here . . . I’m not sure that I really know.”
“Wait a minute,” G.W. said. “Devlin . . . Blast it, I know that name.”
“You should. I sent you a letter recently.”
“Now I remember!” G.W.’s voice fairly shook with anger. “You’re that son of a bitch from the Internal Revenue Service who said he was gonna take my ranch away from me!”
Chapter 42
Kyle and G.W. marched Devlin back to the pickup. As they walked, the IRS agent said, “My car is parked about a quarter of a mile from here.”
“Somebody’ll come get it later,” G.W. told him. Kyle could tell that his grandfather was still furious, but G.W. had his emotions under control, as usual.
“Thank you. It’s a rental, you know. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to it.”
“You may have bigger problems than that,” G.W. said ominously. “This is a big ranch. Lots of places where a fella could disappear and never be seen again.”
“Your threats don’t frighten me, Mr. Brannock. I know you’re not a killer.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve never been backed into a corner quite like this before, either.”
Tyranny Page 16
