I missed, not even close.
The second shot brought the sound of breaking glass to my ears, but the car stayed on the road and was approaching a curve.
Time was running out.
I had three cartridges left and I let all three fly.
My reward was the sight of a splattered, bloody window and the beautiful vision of the car swerving into a ditch and flipping over, end over end.
I then laid the rifle down on the grass and cried.
I was still lying there when I heard the police and ambulance arrive below, and a few moments later, a helicopter appeared overhead.
It landed in the field behind me and a State Trooper walked toward me, walking beside him was Dr. Tanner Harlow.
“Blue Steele?” the trooper said.
I nodded.
“I’m State Trooper, Sergeant John Wincomb. Ranger Selby is on his way to the hospital. He’s going to make it, thanks to Dr. Harlow here.”
I looked over at Harlow. “Thank you.”
Harlow shrugged. “I was a doctor before I was a thief. I would never just run away and let a man die.”
Wincomb pointed at the rifle slung over my shoulder.
“You got him with that?”
“Yes.”
“That’s some fine shooting.”
“I want to go home,” I said.
Wincomb nodded in understanding, and the three of us headed for the chopper.
BLUE STEELE - BROKEN
BLUE STEELE – BROKEN - Book 2 of the Blue Steele Series
Prologue
LANDSVILLE GUN CLUB, LANDSVILLE TEXAS, AUGUST 1998
The annual Boys Shooting Competition was always a hotly contested match between skilled competitors. This year’s event drew a record crowd, because for the first time, girls could enter the contest.
The competition was open to children, ages twelve to sixteen. It was then divided into classes of shooters based upon age. The winner of each age class would compete in a final contest to determine who would win the three-foot high, silver competition trophy.
Of the seven girls that had entered, only one remained, fourteen-year-old Blue Steele. Her father, a Texas Ranger by the same name, looked on with pride as his daughter competed for the trophy in the final round. Blue’s mother was home with Blue’s sister, Jenny, who had come down with chickenpox.
Young Blue’s opponent was a sixteen-year-old boy named Chet Tucker, and Chet was also the previous year’s winner. The two of them were tied, with only one event left, the 300-yard target shoot.
Burt Tucker, Chet’s father, and a fellow Texas Ranger, leaned over and spoke to Blue Steele.
“Little Blue can sure shoot. I think my Chet may have met his match.”
Blue Steele smiled. He was a tall and muscular man with a square jaw and piercing eyes.
“That girl worked night and day to get that good, but she’s got nothing on your Chet. Your son is a hell of a shot.”
Burt took a swig from a flask.
“One thing’s for sure; one of our kids is going to win that trophy.”
“Yeah, but hey, stop taking sips from that flask, will you, Burt? You do have to drive home, you know?”
“Shit, don’t worry about me; I can handle my liquor.”
Chet Tucker was up first, and the contest was winner take all.
The tall boy squared his shoulders, brought the rifle up, and took careful aim.
KAPOW!
After checking with the binoculars, the official called the result.
“Miss!”
“Shit,” Burt said, and then he spat in the grass.
“What’s he shootin’, Burt?”
“Remington .260’s, why?”
“Blue’s shootin’ .223’s.”
“Hell, what’s that, like 55 grain?”
“Yeah, nice and light to cover the distance.”
“She still has to hit what she’s shootin’ at.”
“You’re right there.”
Little Blue took position and aimed her rifle, then she gazed back at her father. Blue sent his daughter a smile and a nod, and the fourteen-year-old prepared to shoot.
KAPOW!
Once more, the official raised his binoculars. If Blue failed to hit the target, then the competition would continue, however, the competition was over.
“Bulls eye!”
Blue screamed for joy and ran to her daddy, who gathered her up in his arms.
“You done good, girl.”
“Thanks, Daddy.”
Blue set his daughter down. He then spotted a group of the other competitors’ fathers pointing at them and laughing.
Blue called out the man who pointed. The man was six-foot-six and muscular, but he had a beer gut growing.
“You got something to say, Johnson?”
“No, little Blue won fair and square, but my boy was a little distracted, if you know what I mean.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Hell, Blue, the girl’s beginning to blossom. I think our boys spent more time looking at her ass than the targets.”
“She’s fourteen, you pig!”
Johnson’s eyes roamed over the young girl.
“She’s gonna be tasty in a few years, yeah boy.”
Blue started toward the man but was held back by Burt Tucker.
“No Blue, that lard ass ain’t worth it.”
Blue seethed for a moment more, but then relaxed.
“You’re right.”
“Of course, I’m right,” Burt said, then he smiled at Blue. “How about you and your daddy meet me and Chet at the ice cream parlor? I think someone has something to celebrate, and it’s my treat.”
Blue grinned. “Thanks, Mr. Tucker.”
“Sure thing, we’ll see you two there.”
As he was driving to the ice cream parlor, Blue looked over and saw his daughter wiping away tears. He pulled his truck onto the shoulder of the highway and asked her what was wrong.
“Nothing.”
“You wouldn’t be crying if it was nothing, now would you?”
“No, sir.”
“Then tell me what’s wrong.”
“They didn’t want me there.”
“Who?”
“Those men, some of the boys, they said that girls shouldn’t be allowed to enter the contest.”
“Did they say why?”
She shrugged. “They said girls can’t shoot.”
“Well then, what’s that you’re holdin’ there? It looks like a trophy to me.”
Blue lowered her eyes.
“They still didn’t want me there.”
“Look at me, young lady.”
Blue’s head shot up and she stared at her father. She knew what that tone of voice meant. It meant that he was mad.
“Who are you?”
“Daddy?”
“I said, who are you? Are you my daughter?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, my daughter can go wherever she wants and do whatever she sets her mind to, isn’t that right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What’s your name?”
“Blue Steele.”
“Say what?”
“I’m Blue Steele.”
“But isn’t Blue a boy’s name?”
“Not anymore.”
“Where’d you get that trophy, girl?”
“I won it.”
“Get out of here.”
“It’s true.”
“You must have worked hard to get that good.”
“I did. I practiced twice a day for like forever.”
“Are you saying that you earned it?”
“I did.”
“That’s right, you earned it, baby. Don’t you let anyone in this world pigeonhole you or limit you. Those men and those boys back there don’t know what I know.”
“What’s that, Daddy?”
“That girl or not, you’re as tough as they come, and you don’t know how to quit.”
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Blue grinned. “People say I’m just like my daddy.”
“Do they now?”
“Yes sir.”
“And what did you say your name was again?”
She sat up straight.
“I’m Blue Steele and I can be and do whatever I set my mind to.”
“And that trophy proves it.”
They pulled back onto the road and Blue rested her head against her father’s shoulder.
“I love you, Daddy.”
“I love you too, baby.”
As Blue began to describe her final shot, her father moaned in sorrow at what he saw up ahead.
“Oh no, Burt’s done crashed his truck.”
Burt Tucker’s silver Chevy pickup was smashed against a tree with a crushed right front.
As Blue parked his own truck, the man who had been driving behind him rolled down his window and spoke to him.
“Oh, that looks bad, you stay with the driver and I’ll go call an ambulance.”
“Good, but hurry.”
The man took off to make the call and Blue got out of the truck.
“Grab that first-aid kit from under the seat,” Blue told his daughter, as he rushed toward the scene.
Blue grabbed the kit, but when she reached the truck, her father held her back.
“They’re both beyond anything that kit can help, honey. Burt has a chance, maybe, but… poor Chet is dead.”
Blue began to cry, and her father placed an arm around her shoulders.
Chapter 1
FIFTEEN YEARS LATER
While I normally prefer to work alone, I do sometimes work in a group. That was the case as I and seven other bounty hunters were out tracking down bail jumpers.
The oldest of our group was a man named Burt Tucker. Burt had been a friend of my daddy’s and was an ex-Texas Ranger.
I had known Burt since I was a little girl, and so I knew the story behind his dismissal from the Rangers. The short story is that Burt is an alcoholic, while the long story involves the death of his only child, Chet, in a one-car accident that was caused by drunkenness.
There were eight of us working together and we were three girls and five boys. At fifty-eight, Burt was the oldest. The youngest was a cute blonde named Susan, but everyone just called her Blondie. Blondie was only twenty-one and a brand-new rookie.
From the moment we met, Blondie attached herself to me.
It seemed that she had heard about some of my more interesting captures and wanted to learn about how I worked. I told her that the best quality you could have in this business was determination, to never quit until you made the capture.
We were traveling in a caravan of four vehicles. I had my truck and Blondie rode along in the passenger seat.
“Hey, Blue?”
“Yeah?”
“What are those two metal rings down there on the floor for?”
“Handcuffs, if I think a capture might be trouble I handcuff them to the rings. They’re embedded into the floor.”
“Have you ever captured anyone really dangerous?”
“A few, one was a serial killer who had murdered seventeen women in Arkansas. I found that out later. At the time, he was only wanted for non-payment of child support. I didn’t like the way he looked at me. I didn’t like it one bit, so I handcuffed him to those rings. It was only when I brought him back that I learned about the murders.”
“It’s a good thing you were careful.”
“I follow my gut as much as I can; it’s rarely been wrong.”
“And what’s your gut say about me?”
“You’re riding along with me, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, and thanks, a couple of those guys, Randy and George, they look at me like they want to devour me.”
I laughed. “They did the same to me when I first started, but after I got a few captures under my belt, they stopped thinking of me as just a woman. They’re harmless, just horny.”
“Today’s been so exciting, how many did we capture so far, five?”
“Six, but that was early, when you can get them at home. This one we’re tracking now, Luther Knox, he knows that we’re out here looking for him. He’s also worth ten grand.”
“Why so much?”
“He’s committed several violent assaults, mostly on women. They never should have let him out.”
“So where are we heading now?”
“To the old refinery out on Interstate 30, George got a tip from a snitch that Knox is camping out there.”
“That old refinery is huge.”
“Yeah, but there’s eight of us, we’ll split up into four groups of two and cover more ground, faster.”
“Can I team up with you?”
I looked over at Blondie while wondering how long she would last in this business. It takes a certain amount of inner toughness, along with a streak of independence to be a good bounty hunter. So far, Blondie seemed content to just be my sidekick. But then, I thought of my own early days and how I had clung to the woman who trained me. Maybe I was being too harsh.
“Of course, you can team up with me, who else would I pick?”
Blondie smiled. “Thanks, I really want to learn from you.”
“You’ll do fine,” I said.
Blondie was right about the refinery, it was huge.
There were about forty round blue tanks that stood three stories high and were anywhere from fifty to a hundred-and-fifty feet across. Each tank had a metal staircase on its side, and every roof had to be checked.
Large feeder pipes crisscrossed the massive space, some as wide as two feet. The entire complex had a ghost town feel to it. I noticed that Blondie looked uneasy.
“This place must be spooky at night,” she said, while getting out of the truck.
I didn’t want to say it, but I agreed. All the time we were walking about, searching for Luther Knox, we kept hearing these little sounds and pings, as if someone or something was living inside the tanks. Each time we checked an area, we found nothing. It was probably just rats, or some other critter, but at night, in the darkness, hearing those sounds would creep me out good.
Before we entered the grounds, we’d met up with the rest of our crew by the fence. The gate was padlocked, but there was a hole on the fence’s south side that trespassers, such as ourselves, used to sneak in. I had just squeezed through the hole with Blondie, when I heard Burt Tucker let out a moan.
Burt had a bad knee from the accident he’d been in years ago. Trying to slip through the gate was aggravating his injury. I walked back and helped him through.
“Thanks Blue, this knee of mine is a devil sometimes and I ain’t getting any younger.”
“It was a tight fit, but tell me, how are you now?”
“I’m good. I can walk and I can shoot; f Knox shows up, I’ll nab him. I faced much tougher men in the old days.”
“I know you did; I used to listen to you and Daddy talk.”
“He’d be proud of you. I hope you know that.”
“I like to think so, Burt, now I’ll see you later, Blondie and I are going to check out the north end.”
“Be careful, Blue.”
“I will, and you be careful too.”
We had been searching for over an hour when I heard shouts coming from the western side of the complex. Blondie and I raced over and saw George lying on the ground. He was bleeding from a cut on his scalp, while Randy was tussling with Luther Knox, who had a knife in his hand.
I rushed over to them. When I was a few feet away, I went into a slide, as if I were trying to steal second base. I swept Knox’s feet right out from under him and he fell on top of me while dropping the knife.
Randy was then able to take out his gun and he aimed it at Knox’s face.
“Get off her, scumbag!”
I rolled out of the way and came up with my cuffs in my hands.
With Knox taken care of, I turned to see about George and found Blondie checking the seriousness of George’s wound.
She then helped him to his feet.
“How are you doing, George?” I asked.
“I’ll have a knot on my head, but I think I’ll be all right.”
“It looks like it needs a stitch or two,” Blondie said.
“George, why don’t you and Randy take Knox back to your truck while Blondie and I round up the others.”
George nodded. “All right, and that was a nice takedown, Blue.”
“Thanks, George.”
George looked over at Blondie.
“Little lady, thanks for helping me.”
“You’re welcome, but get that checked out.”
Just then, Knox opened his mouth.
“Hey! You, the blonde, I got something you can check out.”
Randy punched Knox in the gut.
“That’s my partner you’re speaking to, show some respect.”
That quieted Knox down, and Randy and George walked him back toward our vehicles.
Blondie was smiling. “Randy said I was his partner and George thanked me. You were right, they’re not bad guys.”
“I told you. They just had to get used to you, but now, that doesn’t mean that they won’t still hit on you from time to time.”
“I can handle them.”
“Good, now let’s go find the others.”
But we couldn’t find the others, and they weren’t answering our shouts either. When I tried my phone, the signal kept dropping out, most likely due to the tanks. I began to fear that Knox had somehow overcome them before Randy and George came upon him. I was just about to send Blondie back to get Randy to help us search when Brenda came around one of the large tanks.
“Brenda, is everything okay?”
She looked startled to see us.
“Uh, yeah, yeah everything’s good, but we haven’t seen Knox.”
“George and Randy caught him, but Knox injured George. He needs a couple of stitches on his scalp.”
“You got Knox? Great.”
“So where are the others?”
“Oh, they’re around, they’re back there in that old truck hanger.”
Blondie headed for the hanger. “I’ll go get them.”
Blue Steele Box Set Page 9
