by lake, e a
Cara’s body quaked at his words. “You did what?” she shot back. “He’s where?” Flush with anger, her face hid nothing from the small group.
“They’re fine, Cara. They’ll just have to spend a cold night in the woods and get back to us after Tarlisch leaves tomorrow.” Steven’s reply was met with a further angry glare.
“Steven, he’s 15 years old. He’s not ready for this. He doesn’t know how to survive alone in the woods at night.” She stood and approached as he rose to calm her.
“He’s fine, I said. I’ve got three grown men out there with those four boys. No harm’s going to come to them if they just stay put for the night.”
Cara’s hands shot up next to her shoulders, her fists clenched tight in tiny balls. “Are you insane?” she spit between gritted teeth. “Have you completely lost your mind? That is our son out there. You will take Harley and go fetch them. Sneak out through the back and return Joshua, now!”
Steven drew near and lowered his voice. “That’s not safe. Just end up with a bunch of us getting caught out there by his sentries. It’s better, and safer, and…” His hand rose to cut off her next words. “… the way it needs to be for tonight. I’m sorry, but that’s the way I see it. Chet agreed with me already.”
Cara spun and faced the older assembly member. “Chet, you knew of this and didn’t think it was important enough to tell me? Please, tell me you haven’t betrayed me.”
Stoically, Chet’s eyes moved from Steven to Cara, and then back to Steven. “I agree with Steven on this, Cara. It’s the only way for this to work out for the best.”
“He’s only a boy,” she shouted, exasperated with their thoughts on the matter.
“And it’s time he became a man,” Steven whispered. “He’s safe – they’re all safe – as long as they stay put.”
Chet rose and reached for her arm, but she pulled away. “Cara, it will be fine.”
Shaking with rage, Cara squeezed her hands in front of her face, turning the appendages white. “You fools. What have you done? I cannot believe my own husband and most trusted friend did this to me.” Jabbing a finger rapidly at each of their chests, she spoke again. “You allowed this to happen. Any blood, one single drop, and it will be on your heads. I’ll never forgive either of you if anything happens to…” Tears overcame her before she could say her son’s name. Reaching for her friend, Cara ignored their pleas for calmer talk. “Come, Betsi. Our meeting is finished. I’ll show you to your place before I climb in with my daughter.” She added a harsh glare at Steven before finishing. “Do not, by any means, think you can come inside until Joshua is safely back in camp. Do not defy my words, Steven. If one hair on his head is missing tomorrow, I swear, I will never forgive you. Ever!”
The men watched as the women stormed away, Cara leading Betsi toward her shelter. Chet shared a quick glance with his friend. “That went exactly like you said it would. I don’t think you’ll be sharing her bed anytime soon.”
Steven shrugged, watching his wife disappear into the darkness. “Yeah, I suppose not.”
“You know,” Chet continued. “If we had a cell phone, we could just call him up and tell him what to do now.”
A surprised look crossed Steven’s face. “Cell phone? I haven’t thought of cell phones in years.”
A coy expression ran across Chet’s grinning face. “Really? I dream about technology all the time. Cell phones, sports cars, cable television. All that stuff.”
“You are an interesting man, Chet Carlson,” Steven replied. Both men squatted back onto their logs to continue the all-night vigil.
Harley crept back through the darkness to where two men and four boys, huddled in a tight group, awaited his arrival. The one boy, Calvin, gave the appearance of wanting to vomit as the riders streaked by earlier. That was when there was still a small amount of orange in the western sky. Now, with nothing but stars to guide their way, Harley was certain everyone was more anxious than before.
“From what I see, fellows,” he started in a whisper, “they must have 100, maybe 120 fighters with them. Give or take a couple dozen.” Silently he counted heads in the dark, relieved when he tallied six, not including himself.
“Who are they?” a young lad from the rear whispered back. “What do they want?”
Harley kept his thoughts to himself. “Not real sure. There was talk of Tarlisch riders headed this way. But I can’t identify anyone; too dark.”
An older man nestled in next to Harley’s position. “We need to hide out for the night,” he reasoned. “Or try to sneak back in. What you think, Harley?”
Harley stared at the blazing torches illuminating the night some 200 yards south of their position. “From what I can tell, for every torch you see, there’s four men total. At least two or three watching the camp and another watching the rear.” Sitting back, he wiped sweat from his forehead. “We ain’t sneaking anywhere tonight. We’re staying put.”
Searching in the darkness for the younger lads, Harley stood to address the group. “I say we head back by the wood pile. Hide on the north side of the stack and keep away from this bunch. Hopefully they’ll be gone by daylight.”
From the rear, one of the younger boys called out. “I’m hungry, and we don’t have no food.”
Returning his gaze to the camp, Harley’s head tossed from side to side. “We’re all hungry, boy – and cold to boot. We need to stay alive long enough to get our next meal. Let’s go.”
Seven men, both young and old, slipped through the woods single file, back to the safety found deeper in the woods. Behind them, two Tarlisch scouts followed, watching their every move.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Andy surveyed the early morning activity inside the camp through the main gates’ four-foot opening. Watching closely as the first person rose and came outside to relieve the overnight guards, he smelled the breakfast both inside as well as from his own group. As the sun slowly brightened the eastern sky and chased the morning haze from the area, he could see groups of people cautiously approach the gate and then leave. Most stayed nearby, harvesting vegetables from one or two of the four gardens he could observe from his vantage point. Some people, though, disappeared around back of the enclosure, causing him nervous moments. But after a while they all returned, arms laden with baskets and aprons of fresh-picked produce. Even in the midst of a crisis, Andy thought, their harvest continued.
With the sun well up in the clear blue sky, Andy took a stroll to check his lines. He found most of his troops sitting idly, watching for an escape that most likely wouldn’t happen. Some wandered from their spots, not too far, to harvest wild berries, which were plentiful in the area. For the most part, all awaited the arrival of Willem and Howard. That was when the action would truly begin.
Andy noticed the small redhead outside the camp later in the morning. She seemed to pay the gathered mass no notice, choosing instead to focus on the gardens – her gardens, no doubt. In the rear of the settlement, he discovered three more large enclosures. One held bushes and bushes of ripened tomatoes. The brilliant red of the mature fruit contrasted against turning foliage and underbrush like blood on fresh snow. The next garden held a mass of pea green cucumbers or perhaps zucchini, Andy surmised. The green was less noticeable than the red, but still stood out against the varying shades of the early fall forest.
While inspecting the potential contents of the third garden, Andy’s attention moved back to where he had spent the night. A new rider had appeared. Maybe a scout, or maybe the Upland Guard. Hustling back to his post, Andy swore at himself for allowing the beauty of the natural setting to cause his mind to wander.
By the time he was back to his post, the rider was gone. Andy raised open palms to Freddy. “What gives? I thought there was a rider here.” His voice carried in the otherwise still late morning air.
Freddy met him halfway on his journey. “There was. A scout, one of ours. Willem and Howard will be here within a half an hour or so. So get ready.”
Freddy remained silent, closely watching the camp residents as they went about their chores, paying no attention to the gathered Red Rangers. With a deep scowl, Andy studied the enclosure carefully. For some reason, an itch at the back of his brain, he couldn’t shake the feeling that tiny prying eyes were watching them.
Willem rode up with Howard on his right. His long hair tussled by the hard ride, he pulled it away from his eyes as the horse slowed. The two scouts who’d been sent for their leaders trailed behind, keeping a watchful eye to their rear.
Sliding from his mount, Willem stretched his sore back as he tore the leather gloves from his hands. Once removed, he slapped them on his palm, the leather cracking his skin sounding like a gunshot nearby. He noticed Andy’s stupid grin as he approached, stopping several feet short.
Andy stepped forward to greet him. “Glad you’re here. We got everything ready for you.”
Willem reached his right hand behind his left arm like he was about to scratch his elbow. When Andy looked back at his henchman, Willem uncoiled his arm, striking Andy with a leveling backhand. From the ground, Andy stared up into Willem’s angry eyes.
“What’d you do that for? I done everything you asked,” Andy bellowed.
Willem’s eyes narrowed. “Are you stupid, boy? Or what?” Leaning over the prone youngster, his lips tightened, waiting on Andy’s next words.
“What do you mean, Willem?” His body trembled as Willem reached for the collar of Andy’s jacket.
“I ran into our scouts north of here. They’re keeping an eye on seven spies. Really? On your advice much less. I was a fool to ever let you lead.” Willem kicked at his cousin, not hard enough to cause injury, but just enough to add the intended insult.
Andy cowered, pulling his legs to his chest to prevent further assault. “We didn’t know who they were. What was I supposed to say?”
Willem stepped away and glanced at Howard. “I should kill him now,” he whispered. A quick jerk of Howard’s head said elsewise.
Turning back to his cousin he so despised, Willem knelt by a small fire, warming his hands. “If they’re spies, take them prisoner. If they’re not, don’t waste time on them.”
“They’re spies,” Andy replied. “I’m sure of it.”
“They damn well better be,” Willem snapped. Gazing through the shocked faces of Andy’s troops, he finally found the one man he could depend upon. “Freddy, take a team of six and go meet the scouts, just over the hill back there. About halfway to the lake. You 10 round those spies up and head back to Salt Lake. I’ll deal with them in due course.”
Willem returned his leer to his problem relative. “You’re an amazing lad, aren’t you? Too stupid to lead, too stubborn to follow. I’m about done with you, Andy.” Willem stormed away in search of someone more competent. Someone who might have a clue of a proper way to run a raid. “Landry,” Willem shouted down the line, causing her to jump and run to his side. “Give me your report. And keep it brief. I’d like to get back home sometime before winter.”
Melinda cleared her throat and spit a wad of phlegm aside. Rolling his eyes, Willem shook his head at Howard. “Okay,” she began, “so we got here just before sundown. Andy talked with some little redhead who wouldn’t budge an inch. Couple old farts stuck their noses in, but it seems she’s the leader.”
Bored, Willem rolled his finger in front of her face.
She nodded, understanding that he wanted it quicker. “Andy says Camp Eight told him Bond and the Albrecht chick are here. We surrounded the place and waited for you.” With a finger to her lip, she tried to recall something else. “Oh yeah, we ran into a Guard unit on the way down here. Ended up killing them all. They got three of ours. Let’s see, it was–”
Willem held up his hand. “Please, that’s enough for now, Melinda. We’ll sort out the names of the dead back in Salt Lake and make proper arrangements for their families. Has anyone seen Bond or his daughter?”
Her face fell. “No, just some old crows from the assembly and the redhead. No one else.”
“And what do you know of Andy’s spies?” Willem asked, surveying the encampment 200 yards to the east. The place was larger than he had expected. Not as large as his outpost in the desert, but certainly not a grouping of canvas tents pitched in the middle of the woods. And the walls: so solid, so sound, so well thought out.
“He didn’t tell me about no spies, Willem. All he said is he had a couple of scouts watching a group. He had no idea who they were.” Finishing, she anxiously awaited his next orders, or perhaps praise.
Willem pondered her rushed but appropriate report. Sure, she had most likely missed something, but she wasn’t as observant as he. Perhaps a little more than Andy, but nowhere near as thorough as himself. “Not bad lieutenant, not bad.” Staring back at her, he frowned. “At least you didn’t screw anything up, unlike my incompetent cousin. At least nothing that you’ll admit to, I would imagine.” Studying her face, he searched for any remaining secrets. He shrugged and tipped his head to the right. Turning, he found Howard waiting next to him. “Grab four men please, Howard. The bigger the better.” Refocusing on the front gate, he grinned. “Time to go meet the neighbors.”
Cara watched the exchange through a slot carved into the fence. “That’s Willem,” Betsi announced, gazing out the slot next to her. “And Howard Melby, his second-in-command.”
Sighing, Cara held her hand out for Betsi’s grasp. “You need to stay out of sight. We won’t let them in. Just keep an open ear to our discussions. You’ll know how it’s going.”
Turning, she looked back at the beleaguered faces of her assembly mates. Putting on the bravest face she could, she gave the group a confident nod. “Okay, this is it. Now we stick together, and don’t let this man bully us. Together, as one, we will succeed today. Together, we make our stand.”
Carol Johnson’s pale face showed her deepest fears. Quietly, she moved with the group toward the small opening and their meeting with the devil. “Together, we just may die today,” she whispered.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Standing a mere 10 feet apart, the groups gawked at one another. Willem almost felt sorry for this band of merry farmers. Their clothes were dirty and dull and their faces were smudged with the soil of the land. Their hands, oh their poor hands, he thought. Worked to the bone, thin and frail. And it appeared as if each of them slouched forward; not a lot, just enough to give the appearance of being overworked, underfed and unappreciated. This wasn’t living; it was the exact opposite of what life should be like. Willem knew he’d rather be dead than barely exist in this place.
Finally, the stare-down concluded as the redhead stepped forward. “What do you want?” she demanded in a harsh tone.
The corners of Willem’s mouth made like he was about to smile, yet a full smile never appeared. “We’d like to talk to you. We’d like you to give us something you have, something that’s ours. May we be civil with one another?”
Cara remained expressionless. “We know what you want, Mr. Tarlisch. And I’m sorry to tell you, he’s not here.” Cara eyed his group. If she was afraid, Willem couldn’t find it anywhere on her person.
“Well, since you know who I am, perhaps introductions are in order,” Willem said, hoping to soften the fiery lass. “My name is Willem Tarlisch, but please call me Willem. This man next to me is Howard Melby, my dearest friend and most trusted advisor.” Willem inched ahead, extending his open right hand. “And you might be?”
“Someone who has no desire to give you any information. Someone who certainly doesn’t want to be touched by a person as rotten as you.” Leaning forward, her ey
es firmed further. “Your reputation has arrived well before you, Mr. Tarlisch.”
An older gentleman behind the small woman cleared his throat. “Now Cara,” he began. “Let’s not be too rude here. We don’t want any trouble.”
Cara shot the man a scowl.
Sensing his opportunity, Willem inched forward more. “Yes Cara, let’s be nice to one another. I don’t want trouble either. I just want what’s mine. I want my uncle, Talbot Bond. And I’m told he’s here.”
Searching Cara’s face for any small opening, Willem waited patiently as she considered his words. Her eyes shifted from his feet to hers, and then back to his again. When she looked up at him, he shot her the most sincere smile he was sure he had ever given anyone.
“He’s not here, Willem,” boomed a deep voice from behind Cara. Willem searched for the man behind the voice and found him standing between the group and Cara.
Willem glared at the new player, looking for some sort of recognition. “I’m sorry, do we know one another?” he asked. The voice, that voice sounded familiar to him. But the face was as fresh as a newborn fawn. “I never forget a face, ask anyone. But I must say, I can’t recall yours.”
From behind, Howard spoke first. “Hello, Steven,” he said to the gray-haired, gray-bearded man.
Willem’s head whipped around, sneaking a peek at Howard. How could he see something that I might be missing? he thought to himself. Impossible. Finally, he raised his eyebrows. “Steven? We know him?”
Howard nodded. “Steven Wake. You remember him.”
Stunned, Willem turned to the man. “Steven Wake? Mayor of Provo? United States congressman representing the fine citizens of Utah’s Third District? That Steven Wake?”
A simple nod told Willem everything was true.
“My God,” Willem continued. “I haven’t seen you in probably 15 years. Maybe more.” Willem covered his mouth to suppress an uncontainable laugh.
