The Legacy Series (Book 2): The Ranch [A Legacy of Violence]

by Liscom, Sean

  slowed to a stop.

  “Sheriff,” I greeted him.

  “Jack, Irene. I just wanted you to know, I made that radio call. Ray's goon squad will be here tomorrow around noon.

  “Thank you for the warning, Sheriff. If you wouldn't mind, let them know which way we're headed,” I said.

  “I'll do just that,” he replied and took a couple of steps back to let us pass.

  “Thank you, Sheriff. I'll remember this,” I again nudged the mare’s sides and began moving again. He tipped his hat and went back onto the sidewalk.

  Monday, August 21st, 2017

  35 miles south of the ranch.

  “I was hoping that we’d make better distance, being on horses and all,” Jill said from atop her horse. She glanced at her watch, 9:37am. They had only made about 35 miles that first day before the horses needed a break for the night.

  “They get tired, just like us,” Dan said, patting his red sorrel horse on the withers. “They get ridden a lot but that’s mostly short distance and duration.”

  “I know, Dan. I’m just frustrated and bitchy.”

  “Don’t let it get to you too much. At least we are finally moving in the right direction. I’ll

  have to take back what I said about being in Duckwater Monday or Tuesday. Looks like it’s probably going to be Wednesday before we pull in there.”

  “That’s kind of what I’m thinking. I just hope that we don’t miss them.”

  “Even if we get there and they have already left, we can get confirmation that it really is them and we might even get a lead on where they are going and when they left.”

  “I just don’t want to miss them. They have been out here for a week now,” Jill replied. Dan was getting desperate the change the subject, all this was doing was adding to Jill’s frustration.

  “So, those guys of Ray’s, they said that the main force was moving east?” he asked.

  “That’s what they told me. Why?

  “Somethings not making any sense. I mean, if that’s really what’s going on, his forces will get slaughtered. He has to know that. Right?”

  “Unless he’s got something else planned.”

  “But there’s more. He’s got those Abrams tanks, each one has a fuel tank that holds about 500 gallons of fuel. We had enough on hand at the ranch to fill up, what, 3 or 4 of them? This isn’t even counting the other armor he had. Say that he got enough fuel from the city of Elko to fill another half dozen…. None of it makes sense.”

  “I see what you’re saying, Dan. Maybe he had fuel trucks following along to keep his little

  army running,” Jill pointed out.

  “That may be the case but I still don’t see how he could move an entire armored column from Vegas to Elko without the heavy dependence on those tankers. Don’t even get me started on the helicopters. I just don’t think that he has the ability or the range to make a strike on Salt Lake City. There’s no way he can,” Dan finished.

  “Then what’s he planning?” Jill asked.

  “I don’t know. What I do know is that there is a whole lot that doesn’t really add up. It’s not just the fuel issues, I think he has people issues too.”

  “Well, if he didn’t have people issues before, we opened a real can of worms for him,” Jill chuckled.

  “That’s for sure! I think the problem has been there all along, you just stirred the pot a little. I mean, those three guys came to you with the information about the armor leaving town and they volunteered all the information about the enforcers. Everything right down to names and descriptions. That was information Braden needed to pull off the coup in Elko. If it weren’t for them, it might have turned out differently.”

  “Yeah, I feel bad for lumping them in with the rest of the prisoners but I didn’t know what else to do,” Jill admitted.

  “You did the right thing, Jill. Their

  information panned out but we still don’t know that we can trust them.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  “Besides, the rest of the prisoners are none the wiser as to who ratted them out. Unless those boys talk, they will never know.”

  Jill suddenly pulled her horse to a stop and was intently staring at the dirt road that crossed in front of them, still several miles off. She quickly slipped off her backpack, set it in front of her and pulled out a set of binoculars. Putting them to her eyes, she twisted the knob for the focus.

  “Single Hummer headed down that road,” she said aloud. “Can’t make out how many people but that’s a Hummer,” she handed the binoculars over to Dan. He put them to his face and repeated the process to focus the image.

  “Looks like they’re heading south, away from us,” he remarked.

  “I think that road goes up and over the mountain range,” she said.

  “Check it out?” he asked, handing the glasses back to her.

  “Yeah. They are coming from somewhere and there isn’t much on the other side of those mountains,” she said as she put the binoculars

  away and re-shouldered her pack. Taking the reins in her hand again, she angled her horse on a south easterly direction. That would take them away from the rapidly departing Hummer and

  toward where they originated from.

  Monday, August 21st, 2017

  5 miles north of Duckwater.

  “Crap, this cable is a little smaller diameter than I wanted. I guess we’ll just have to hope it works,” I said, handing Melissa the end of the steel cable that we got from the trader. “Take that end and tie it off to that road sign, about five feet off the ground.”

  “Okay,” she replied and walked to the opposite side of the dirt road. State Highway 379 was only paved up to a couple of miles north of Duckwater. She tied the steel cable in several knots and then tied it back on itself. Anyone that has ever tried to tie a steel cable knows what a pain it can be. With any luck, it would hold. Once she returned to my side of the road, I pulled the cable tight and tied it off to the road sign on my side.

  “What are we going to do if they see the cable?” she asked.

  “We’re going to give them something else to look at. As soon as we see them, I want you to take off running down the middle of the road.”

  “Ah, a distraction?”

  “Yeah, hopefully they will be too intent on catching up to you to see the cable across the road. I’ll set up in that sagebrush right over there

  and pick off any that dodge our little trap,” I said. I looked back to the little gully where our horse was tied up to make sure that she couldn’t be seen from the road. Satisfied that she was well hidden I looked back to Melissa. “All we can do now is wait.”

  We didn’t have to wait very long either. We’d finished setting up the trap a little after noon and by 12:45 we could see and hear the motorcycles leave Duckwater. I ran to my position and laid down in the tall sagebrush. I had a great view of the road but was nearly invisible from it. Melissa took off at a sprint, right down the middle of the road.

  As the dirt bikes drew nearer, I knew that they had spotted her when I heard them pour the power on. There was only one problem. One of the bikes was hanging back a little, letting the other four take the lead. They would hit the cable a few seconds before he would. There was a possibility he could avoid the trap.

  The first four dirt bikes blew past me, two in the front and two very closely behind them. With their speed and the distance to the cable, I knew they wouldn’t be able to stop in time. I had just shifted my gaze to the fifth bike when I heard the other bikes lock up their brakes. The fifth bike was far enough back that he saw the other bikes try to avoid the trap.

  He immediately applied the brakes and

  almost wrecked when the tires started to slide on the gravel. I’m not sure how but he kept it from going down. I could hear the crashing of the other bikes and I chose that moment to squeeze the trigger of the M16. My aim was true and the bullet struck him in the center of the chest. The impact threw him from the bike and he
rolled across the ground before coming to rest in the ditch opposite of my position.

  I fired twice more before I turned my attention to the other bikers. The sight was straight out of a horror film. The two lead riders had been decapitated and their bikes had piled up in the middle of the road. The two that were right behind them had crashed into the bikes and bodies of the first riders.

  Both of them were writhing on the ground and one was screaming in pain as I cautiously approached the scene. I could see that the cable had snapped with the first impact and it had nearly yanked one of the sign posts out of the ground. The blood and gore on the ground made it look like someone had slaughtered a cow on the spot.

  None of the men were wearing helmets and I could see that one of the two men that I

  though was still alive had actually had most of his skull crushed on impact with the ground. He was dead, his body just didn’t know it yet. The fourth man’s legs were twisted at grotesque angles.

  There was a rapidly expanding puddle of blood coming from his right thigh. The shattered bone must have severed the femoral artery. He too was dead and didn’t know it yet.

  A breathless Melissa came trotting back up and she drew her pistol to shoot the man with he shattered legs. I waived her off.

  “Don’t waste a bullet. He’ll be dead in a couple of minutes,” I said. “Go check that one back there,” I pointed over my shoulder with my thumb.

  “On it,” she jogged past me to check on the fifth biker. I knelt down next to the biker with the shattered legs. His screaming had settled to a mournful moan as the life drained from his body.

  “Where’s Ray Judge?” I asked.

  “Screw you!”

  “You’re the one who’s screwed. Again, where’s Ray at?” his answer was a mouthful of spit on the ground. “Fine, whatever,” I said and reached over to remove the pistol from the holster on his belt. He tried to push my hand away but lacked any real strength. I stood back up and turned my attention to the dirt bikes.

  The first two had collided with each other before hitting the ground and both of them were

  pretty mangled. The second two had collided with the first set and they too were messed up. Melissa was pushing the fifth one toward me. It looked like it was in pretty good shape.

  “I think this ones okay. Break lever is broken off but everything else looks good,” she said as she got close. She leaned the big bike against the road sign and took off the backpack that she had gotten from the fifth man. Sticking out the top of it was the stock of a shotgun. She put the pack on the ground and the two of us spent the next 30 minutes gathering up all of the gear the bikers had with them.

  They were equipped much like the bikers Melissa had killed in Rachel. M16-A2 rifles, Glock 21 handguns and plenty of spare mags for them. One of the men had a small tool kit in his pack and it came in handy. We scavenged parts from one of the destroyed bikes to fix the broken brake lever on the bike that Melissa would be taking.

  The old 600cc Yamaha XT600 was a little big for Melissa but she assured me that she could handle it. She said that she had grown up riding her big brother’s bikes. I don't know where they got this bike but it looked like it had been well cared for and barely ridden. The fuel tank was capable of holding just under three gallons of gas and it was half full. We had gotten fuel from the other bikes and topped it off.

  That might be enough fuel to get her back to the ranch. We drug the wrecked dirt bikes off to the side of the road and unceremoniously lined up the five bodies next to them. There was

  no way we were going to carry all of the guns so we hid them in the culvert that ran under the road.

  Melissa pulled the remaining half dozen cans of food from her pack and placed them in mine. She explained that she wouldn't need it, she'd be home in 24 hours. The other thing she put in my pack was a half dozen road flares that had come out of one of the bikers packs.

  “You afraid my horse is going to break down?” I joked.

  “No!” she laughed. “Ya just never know when a good flare will come in handy.”

  “You say so,” I replied. She kept a quarter of the jerky that the trader had given us and the last thing we divided up was the drinking water. Again, she gave me the lion’s share of it, eight of the 12 bottles. Satisfied that both of us had the supplies we would need, we shouldered our packs. I was happy to have the horse now. There was no way I could carry the substantial weight of the pack for miles on end, not with the trouble my thigh was giving me.

  “Okay, Melissa. I want you to listen close,” I paused and readjusted my pack. “As soon as you can get off this road and run that thing cross

  country, do it. I know it has a headlight but I don't want you riding after dark. Two reasons, that light might as well be a strobe light signaling all the bad guys. And I don't need you dumping

  that thing and getting hurt.”

  “When you get to the ranch, if it's under our control, I need you to give Jill a full-blown briefing as to what and when this thing is going down in Vegas. Between her, Dan and Braden, I'm sure they can come up with a plan. Tell them to hold their forces back and I will meet them where highway 93 and interstate 15 come together. If I'm not there by noon on the 28th, I probably won't be coming. If that happens, they need to back off and get the hell out of there. Okay?” I asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “One more thing, tell my wife I love her.”

  “I can do that, but she's gonna be pissed that you aren't with me.”

  “Tell her it was a direct order and tell.....” my voice trailed off as I spotted the dust cloud from a vehicle several miles off, coming from the north. She turned to look in that direction. Whoever it was, they were hauling ass toward us. “Get on that bike and get it fired up. That sand wash, where the horse was tied up runs north-south. Go!” I ordered.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, moving toward the bike.

  “I'm heading east,” I put my foot in the stirrup and climbed up into the saddle. Melissa stood on the right side of the big dirt bike and used her left foot to kick start it. She took a look

  back at me. “GO!” I shouted. She pushed the bike as hard and fast as she could for about 20 feet and then jumped on the back of it. She put it in gear and let out the clutch followed by plenty of throttle.

  She dropped down into the sand wash and started picking up speed quickly. The approaching vehicle was less than a mile away now. I could see, even from that far away, it was a Hummer. I kicked the buckskin mare in the sides and she took off like a shot. I knew that she couldn't keep this pace for a long period of time but I needed to put as much distance as I could between me and the road as quickly as possible. I was headed straight for the mountain range and was gaining elevation fast. I looked over my shoulder and saw that the Hummer had stopped at the site of the ambush. There was a man standing next to the rig looking at me with a pair of binoculars. Then the unthinkable happened.

  Monday, August 21st, 2017

  The ranch.

  Braden hadn't gone home until about 10pm the night before. He took Bill's advice and stayed

  up till nearly 6am talking with his wife, Megan. Between her talk and the one that Bill had given him earlier in the day, he was feeling a little

  better by the time he went to bed a bit after

  7am.

  Megan was still awake and sitting at the dining room table. There wasn't any coffee to be had, she'd been promised that there would be a supply delivery from Elko today. Coffee was high on the list of stuff they were to bring. She was lost in her thoughts when Bill came through the front door.

  “Morning, Megan. How's Braden?” was the first thing out of his mouth.

  “I think he's doing a little better. He finally went to sleep about a seven this morning. This caused Bill to look at his watch before he sat at the long table. According to the watch face, it was 1:12 in the afternoon.

  “I hate to wake him up, but I really need him right now.”

  “E
verything okay?” she asked.

  “Yes and no,” was his cryptic answer. “I intercepted a communication regarding Jason and Melissa and I've been talking to Ray's men that are locked up in the barn.”

  “Braden's exhausted, Bill. Can't it wait a few more hours?”

  “I'm sorry, but no. This is information that he really needs to have,” Bill paused for a

  moment. “Megan, you do realize that if Jason and Jill don't make it back, that leaves Braden in charge, right?”

  “I don't see how that's possible. He doesn't

  want to be in charge of anything. You can't make him do it if he doesn't want to,” she replied.

  “This is going to come out all wrong, Megan,” he paused again as if he were searching for the right words. “He's the son of Jack Sterling. As long as there is a Sterling alive, it was Jack’s wish for them to run this ranch. Not just in the good times but the bad as well. He..... He needs to get past his emotional baggage and step up.”

  “He's terrified, Bill. He's scared to run this place. He doesn't want to screw it up, that's how people die.”

  “I get it, Megan. I really do but he has a responsibility here, this ranch and the people that live here need him to be the leader that he is.”

  “You can't convince him that he's a leader.”

  “He is though. What he did, getting all of you from Kansas to the ranch alive was nothing short of miraculous. The fact that he did it without having to kill is almost a statistical impossibility. He's a critical thinker, like his dad. Jason's more of the impulsive side of the same coin. That's why Jack wanted them together to run this place. One thinks, the other acts. They

  balance each other and if Jason doesn't make it back, we're going to need Braden’s cool demeanor in charge around here.”

  “You're going to have a pretty tough time selling him on that.”

  “I'm not just trying to sell him on the idea, Megan. You are a Sterling too. If he has to take over the leadership role on a full time basis, this is going to affect you too. You will become his sounding board for ideas. You will be constantly worried about him. He will miss dinners and he will be up and out of the house before breakfast. He's gonna need you in ways he never has before.”