by lake, e a
“Two that I know of. Two real ones at least,” Charlie confessed. “We got a dozen or so homemade arrows. But most of those explode once the string is released. They’re not strong enough to withstand the force.”
Cara’s head fell forward, followed by her shoulders. What she really wanted to do was to dash alone into the woods and scream until her voice failed. Then she would find a large branch and beat it on something until the stick was gone. But she knew her station; she knew she must lead. “Maybe Steven and George can come up with something – quickly of course.”
Turning to focus on Charlie alone, Cara knelt in front of the man, reaching for his hands. “Go to Steven as quietly as possible and ask him to see if he can’t come up with another bunch of arrows. But keep your voice low, please. I don’t want to alarm the whole camp before we’re sure trouble is on its way.” Charlie patted her hand and agreed.
“I’ll have Dave and one of his men polish up the guns,” Chet said with a firm voice. “We may not have ammo, but they can still look functional.” Striding for the door, he turned toward the group before exiting. “I agree with Cara. Until we hear more, let’s keep this as quiet as possible.”
One by one, the others took their leave. Emily was last and about to leave when Cara called for her. “What are your thoughts, Emily? You didn’t say much.”
Sighing, Emily wiped away a tear streaking down her tired face. “We have guns without ammo. We have two arrows for a few bows. What do you expect me to say?”
Cara took Emily’s hands in hers. “There’s always hope, right?”
“They’ll wipe us out within an hour, Cara. They’ll kill every last one of us if they don’t get what they want.” Her lips trembled as another tear escaped her left eye. “If they come, Cara, there’ll be no hope. None at all.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Howard,” Willem whined, “it’s been two full days. We need to move.”
Lying on the floor in the corner of Willem’s office, Howard peeked out the window at the far end. The final orange and yellow streaks of daylight faded as night rushed in to take over.
“Maybe you should run up to bed for a while, Will. They’re still getting staged out there. The plan doesn’t call for them to leave until real early tomorrow morning, an hour before sun up or so.” Howard rolled his back, stretching like a waking cat as he stood. He felt like he could use a little decent sleep as well. But not as long as Willem Tarlisch prowled the night.
Willem sat on the ledge of the window, watching the world outside turn from day to night.
Howard tried to read his thoughts, but as usual failed. “What are you thinking, boss?”
“I know we don’t want the Upland Guard watching every move we make. Thus, I know we need to leave in the dark of night. One hundred fifty mounted and armed men and women. Ten teams of 15. When the guard finally sees that many, they won’t have a clue of what we’re doing, will they?”
Howard rose and stood beside his friend, staring at the nearly dark streets, lit only by the few torches posted throughout the troops. “They won’t be able to get a real grip on what we’re doing until it’s too late. By then, we’ll be halfway home.”
“How many do they have?” he asked without looking at his long-time pal.
“I heard as many as 125 to 150, Will. If we wanted to, we could crush the guard.” Howard searched the office for something to drink. Finding nothing, he reached for an apple on the far side of the desk.
“Except, my dear friend,” Willem countered, “they’d scatter to the wind so fast we’d never find them. And from what I’ve heard, they’re all expert horsemen and women.” Willem peeked at Howard’s reflection in the window.
“We just need to get past them before they alert the people in the camps, that’s all.” Focusing on Willem’s tired eyes, Howard asked more. “Still want to send half to Eight and half to Nine?” A quick nod from Willem gave him the answer. “Got a reason for that? Might be smarter to surround one at a time. Squeeze out their secrets better that way.”
Rising quickly from his perch, Willem reached for a folder on the desk. Letting his long finger trace numbers that he had otherwise memorized, he grinned at Howard.
“Camp Eight has about 60 people,” Willem recited. “Camp Nine, 50. We have enough troops to cut them both off simultaneously. That way, no one from one camp can warn any others. Someone sneaking around in the woods might see us surround Camp Eight, and then run off warning the whole area. And if Talbot Bond happens to be at Camp Nine, he could have time to sneak away, unscathed.” Howard watched as Willem’s fists clamped in tight balls, squeezing the blood away and turning them white.
Howard led his best friend to the door and toward the steps. If they didn’t sleep now, they might not sleep anytime in the next week. “Get a couple hours of sleep, Will. I’ll wake you before the gang leaves. All the lieutenants have the word. Four a.m. is go time. I’ll get you up by three.”
Two hours later, Willem sat alone in the dining room, sipping on some sort of alcohol. Though he’d never had much of a taste for any of the spirits, he thought it might help him sleep. If only, he thought over and over again.
This was it, the last few hours before the moment he’d been anticipating, dreaming of, for the last six years. He was so close to his revenge, he could taste it like the sweet nectar of a ripe apricot. The revenge of his father and brother, and the taking of what was rightfully his.
Six years he had waited for this day; six years he had planned every last detail to the final degree for the most desired effect. Though some, those without patience, would have rushed into something this complicated, they would have been dead by now. But not Willem Tarlisch. He was patient, he was shrewd, and mostly, he was merciless.
Closing his eyes, he dreamed of the expression on Talbot Bond’s face when he finally caught up with him. He couldn’t wait to whisper in his ear the two largest secrets the world held for Uncle Talbot. The pain it would cause. And then, slowly and without remorse, he would kill the man. Grinding him back into the dust from which he came. After that, Willem could sleep. Until that time, he dreamt while still awake.
Walking amongst his troops, Willem’s face showed the pride he felt inside. Howard walked beside him, commenting on the horses. “I can’t say they’re the best that Habelmann could have sent, but they’ll do.”
Willem brushed away Howard’s skepticism. “They’re fine. Very fine. They just need to get us 30 miles and back.” Slapping a gray mare on her rear quarters, Willem cocked his head. “We really didn’t expect his best, now, did we?” Howard chuckled at his honesty. Willem became more serious. “I want to hear the plan again. In all its detail. Leave nothing out.”
Howard searched for an open bench in the courtyard and led Willem to it so they could both sit while reviewing everything.
“Ten teams of 15 riders will leave by 4 o’clock. Still dark enough so the Upland Guard won’t be able to get a fix on our strength. Each team will be a couple miles apart, heading straight into the mountains. To anyone else, it will look like we’re going after all 10 of the western-most camps.”
Willem nodded, listening to Howard carefully. “What are we doing for lights? It will still be dark for a while, you know.”
Howard pointed at the large fire burning in the center of the troops. “Each team will be led by two riders with torches. That should make it safe for everyone.”
Grinning, Willem almost laughed. “So the Upland Guard will see us just fine then. And have no idea where we’re headed. Perfect. Well thought out, Howard.”
“Okay,” Howard continued. “Here’s where it gets good. After they crest the front range, they’ll meet up over just north of Twin Peaks. That’ll give them access to camps eight and nine in that canyon that comes out over just west of Brighton.” Willem listened as Howard thought of the next step.
“They’ll be just a little north of Camp Eight yet, so the first team, led by Andy, will head that way. The reserve forc
e will ride hard toward Camp Nine so we can encircle them before any word gets out.”
“I like this, Howard. It almost sounds like you know what you’re doing here,” Willem added with a pat on his friend’s back.
Rolling his eyes, Howard’s head shook slightly. “Thanks boss, I think. Anyway, Andy and his grunts will search Eight first. If they don’t have what we need there, they’ll ride down and join the rest at Camp Nine. If Bond isn’t at Camp Eight, he’ll be in Camp Nine.”
Stiffening quickly, Willem turned to Howard. “And Betsi?”
“Yeah, her too. But remember, we’re after Talbot first. Betsi’s the back-up, right?”
Willem let his eyes wander through the crowd of anxious riders. Seeing them in the state of readiness made him wish he’d be in the initial wave. “And when do I get to join the fray?”
Howard sighed. “Once we have them pinned down, someone will come back to get you. It only delays things by a day. We can’t risk sending you out there and getting nabbed by the guard.”
“Howard, I’m not a child,” Willem rebuked. “I made it into Salt Lake just fine.”
“Because we had you under heavy guard, remember?”
Willem waved off his comment. “Whatever, have it your way.” Rising from his seat, he clapped his hands once. “Okay, time to get this show on the road. Do they have everything they need?”
Howard followed Willem’s lead and rose behind him. “Guns and ammo, food for two days, water for three. Yeah, I think they’re ready.”
“Time to fire up the gang then,” Willem exclaimed, walking briskly toward the center of the camp. This was the dawn of a new era, one that would proclaim his greatness for the entire Salt Lake Basin.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“This is a moment that will be remembered for years to come,” Willem shouted, standing on an old lettuce crate in the middle of his people. Around him, shadowy faces listened eagerly, illuminated only by the glow of several dozen torches. The acrid smell of pine pitch and other accelerants filled the air, causing some to cover their mouths and noses with their ever-present red bandanas.
Tarlisch combed his long, stringy hair back, sweat from his scalp collecting between his fingers. Though the early morning air was cool, no sunlight was available to dry up the blanket of early fog. Wearing dirty blue jeans, a sleeveless sweat-soaked denim shirt and a bandana on his left bicep, Tarlisch looked more like one of the riders who would soon depart instead of their leader. But his words left no doubt to his leadership.
“Generations from now,” he went on, “our children’s children’s children will speak of this day proudly. This is the day we exact our revenge. A day where we avenge the deaths of my beloved father and brother, and Howard’s uncle. A day that marks the beginning of the end for our adversaries. From this day forward, people who were against us will tremble at the words ‘Red Rangers’.” Shoving his fist into the air, Willem led the crowd as they screamed their approval.
“For six long years, we toiled in the desert, shoved there like unwanted step-children by the militia and their rotten leaders. They hoped, I fear, that we’d all die out there.” Willem became more serious as he lowered his voice, and the crowd fell silent. “That was their plan. I’m sure of it now. All the documents I’ve read since we arrived last week point to one conclusion. They wanted to kill every last one of us. Every man, every woman and every child.” His eyes scanned the somber crowd, watching carefully as faces recalled the last six years in their arid prison. He noted to himself that this was the exact mood he desired. Now he would whip them into a frenzy. He would transform these simple people into a group of berserkers, the likes that had not been seen on earth since the Vikings of old.
Almost too soft, he began again. “But we survived – though it was difficult, and we lost many along the way. My father and brother are not the only casualties of this war. No, we have all lost someone, I know.” He paused to clear his throat, letting the emotion of the moment swell through the crowd. “We must be committed to our loved ones’ memories. Will we let their deaths mean nothing? Or will we avenge our ancestors, our loved ones, our friends?”
Jumping off of his perch, Willem began to move through the group. “We live and succeed so that their memories never die. We are at the gates of our destiny. This moment will mean more to all of you than any moment you have ever lived – any moment you will live in the future. This is the culmination of six years of planning. Six years of starving. Six long years of an unquenchable thirst. From this moment on, my dear people, we will never thirst again.” Noise rose as the group, his group, began to cheer and reach to touch their leader. Willem let all come and be in his presence.
“Some will say,” he yelled above the crowd, “that we are too vicious, too much set on revenge. But I ask you, is it not justice to return the actions of those who have oppressed us for so long?”
Screams rose above his voice. Many shouts of “YES!” rang into the morning darkness.
“And now we will punish those who thought it right to punish us. We will repay their years of gross injustice with swift and honest judgment. We mean to harm no innocent person. But for those who have taken from us, we begin taking back now – this day.”
Riders jumped on their horses as shots rang out, emphasizing Willem’s speech.
Finding Howard in the crowd, Willem gave him a quick wink. Howard smiled slightly, shaking his head.
“Go my friends, go and reclaim what is rightfully ours – what is rightfully yours! If any man or woman shall perish during this great fight, I promise you, that person will be remembered as a great warrior for years – no, generations – to come.”
Claps and shouts lifted high, along with the torch flames, filling the morning air with electricity.
“Find me Talbot Bond,” Willem screamed, as if he were a madman. “Find him, hold him, and when I arrive, together we will have our justice. Go now, follow your leaders and make haste into the mountains where those who have oppressed us now cower in fear.”
The group circled the town square several times, lifting their torches and weapons, screaming the Tarlisch name. Then, as one large mass, their steeds broke free from the center and sprinted away into the darkness. Willem watched, grinning, as every last rider dissolved into the early morning darkness. Turning to Howard, he chuckled. “Not one of my best speeches, but it seemed to do just fine for that group of cretins. I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t kill every living thing they came across between here and those two camps.”
“That’s not what we’re trying to do, boss,” Howard answered with a frown. “We want to rule, but I don’t think we want to garner the attention of every last militia unit in the Salt Lake Basin.”
Willem snorted, turning to walk back to the Temple. “Oh Howard. You’re such a downer sometimes. You know…” He stopped to look back one last time at the village square. “…as a leader, I’d rather be feared than loved. If they fear you, they’re too scared to rise against you. If they love you – well, look at what happened to Erickson and his gang of thieves.”
Still frowning, Howard turned for the Temple. “I don’t think you got any problem with the citizens fearing you, Will. Done a pretty good job of that already.”
Sitting forward in his saddle, Tom Finkel watched as a large mass of torches made its way to the east, toward the mountains. From his perch on a tall outcropping of stone, he knew this was the attack they had all been warned of, the one that everyone secretly prayed would not come. It was common knowledge that Tarlisch had as many as 2,000 men and women at his disposal. Far too many for five units of Upland Guard to fight, especially since each unit had less than a dozen in the ranks now.
As the torches drew nearer – riders on horseback, Tom assumed – the groups began to split apart like fireworks shot high in the air back in the old days. Concentrating on the lights, he counted seven, then eight, and finally nine separate units, or attacks, in his mind. Three groups headed north before disapp
earing behind a small outcropping, blocking his view. Two more came straight at his position, east into the mountains. The other three, maybe four, headed south. He watched those riders the longest, for another good 10 minutes, before they too disappeared from sight. Turning his horse, he spurred it back toward camp, back to spread the word to the others.
Back in camp, he discovered a quiet scene. Most men would still be sleeping. The morning sun was just beginning to paint a pink tint on the eastern horizon. The only one up would be Jefferies, the nighttime sentry.
“Halt, password rider,” Jefferies called out as Tom’s horse slowed.
“Don’t be a dunderhead, man – it’s me, Finkel,” he replied.
“Still need the password. Captain’s orders you know.” Jefferies didn’t appear to want to back down.
Tom thought hard. They changed passwords far too often for a group of men that rarely saw others. The chance of anyone stumbling into them was far less than the other way around. “Your mother makes great pie,” he finally spit out.
Jefferies laughed. “Nah, it’s wagon-train this week. But my mom does make good pie.”
“I need to see the captain, right away, dude,” Finkel demanded. “Is he up yet?”
Jefferies snuck a peek back at the small encampment. “Nah, they’re all still sleeping. Sun’s just starting to come up.”
“I know, but this is important,” Finkel pleaded. “I gotta talk to the captain right away.”
Playing with the fire, Jefferies filled the coffee pot with water. “What’s so important?”
Finkel’s expression firmed. “There’s movement down in Salt Lake. Riders, at least two dozen heading toward the camps. All of them I think. Maybe not Eleven and Twelve. But certainly those on the western edge.”
“That’s not good,” a low, gruff voice added from behind. Both younger men jumped, startled by the new speaker – Captain Joseph Harmes.
