by Nathan Jones
Assuming Sangue wasn't dug in and concealed somewhere, that is.
Logan had them spend half a minute checking every visible inch of terrain through the scopes of their rifles. Then he quickly divided the scouts up so they could all check different areas, not just to the south but to the southwest, southeast, and even west and east. Skyler considered it a nod to his skills that he was the one sent south, the most likely direction for the enemy to be in.
Only they weren't. For the rest of the morning, he moved swiftly but carefully, checking one ravine, gulch, gulley, and broad mountain valley after another without even a glimpse of a cheap Sangue uniform or glint off an enemy rifle. Aside from heading back a few times to report his findings, or lack of, to Trapper, hearing when he did that the other scouts hadn't found anything either, he spent those hours moving ever closer to the ranch valley with no enemy contact.
Just before noon found him only a couple ridges away from there, perched in a concealed spot and carefully searching the valley laid out in front of him through the scope of his rifle. Downslope of his position was the hardest to be sure about, since the angles were bad and there were lots of obstacles, but he didn't see or hear anything.
The stream trickling along the bottom of the steep valley was also empty. The far slope, nothing, the far ridge, no silhouettes he could see. Mouth of the valley, clear, head of the valley, clear.
What was going on here? The scouts watching the ranch had come running with word that Sangue was gearing up to begin scouring the mountains south of Camptown, and the enemy might be hot on their heels. It had already been almost two full days since then, although with them camping through the night they'd missed about nine hours of travel.
Even so, he was now practically on top of the ranch and he wasn't scouting that far ahead of the volunteers; after a morning of expecting to see bloodies on the other side of every rise, he'd been certain that if they were there at all, he'd see them creeping along the slopes of the valley behind him. When they hadn't been there, he'd been even more certain he'd see them in this valley.
But there was nothing, nothing at all.
Had the extra squads the scouts had seen at the ranch even left yet? Or were they just increased security for the place, given that Sangue knew the volunteers were operating in these mountains and might pose a risk to Emery? Or had Camptown been discovered after the volunteers went south, and those squads had been recalled to attack the bowl valley directly?
Or, a chill ran down his spine at the thought, had he somehow messed up and the bloodies were actually behind him, even now creeping up on the few dozen volunteers and recruits Trapper had been able to scrape together?
No. No way was that possible. Even if he was willing to doubt his own abilities, he couldn't believe that two or even three squads of bloodies had somehow managed to creep around him. No matter how skilled those soldiers might be, that many people just didn't move without showing some sign he would've seen.
Which meant those squads had either gone a completely different way, hugging the eastern or western edges of the mountains or possibly both, or they really were just moving slow as molasses after all.
Skyler glanced back the way he'd come, frowning. That left him with a decision to make: did he head back to the group and let Trapper know what he'd found, see if the mountain man wanted to change their plans based on new information? Or did he keep going to the next ridge and check the ravine on the other side? That would put him practically at the top of the ranch valley, at which point he might as well keep going a little farther and check the ranch itself.
That ludicrous notion, of going way, way too far ahead of the group, made the decision for him, and he decided to head back to report in.
Only before he could turn away from the valley in front of him, the decision was really made for him as he caught sight of movement on the ridge ahead, as well as the southern end of the valley. It was only flashes, signs of people moving slowly from cover to cover, with long pauses in between to let other groups catch up or move ahead.
Unit tactics, covering each other every step they took as if they were in the middle of a fight, instead of a stone's throw from the occupied ranch they'd left from and moving through apparently empty mountain valleys.
That explained why it had taken so long to find them, but now he had. Skyler slid back down the far slope, cautious as could be now that he knew he wasn't alone out here, and made his way back to Trapper and the volunteers.
* * * * *
“They're moving slow,” Skyler explained. “Unbelievably slow, to the point it'll take them days to even get close enough to Camptown to be a worry. All their scouts are moving within line of sight of each other, every group with at least two others watching their backs, and they're practically turning over every rock as they pass. They obviously don't want to risk missing anything, or walking into an ambush or us sneaking up on them.”
Tom nodded grimly at his son's report. It was a relief to finally have word of their enemy's whereabouts, and it was gratifying in a way to know the bloodies were that spooked by him and his little band of ambushers. But that sort of caution was bad news when it came to doing anything about their inexorable crawl northward.
“We're going to have the very blazes of a time doing either with them so wary,” Neal said, expression sour.
He could've done without the former bartender saying that, even if they all knew it was true. “You're not wrong. But at the very least they've learned to respect us in our mountains. Their caution buys us time, a lot more than we thought we had, to prepare a response.”
“Which they're not going to stumble into, seeing as they're being so careful,” Reina pointed out.
Tom sighed, since that was also true. “I suppose we'll have to be even more careful on our end.” He turned to Skyler. “Did you get a count on them?”
The teenager hesitated. “You can only see a few of them moving at a time, and the forward scouts are guiding the soldiers behind them to good cover to make tracking them difficult. But it was definitely more than one squad, but I don't think enough for three.”
“So two, then?” Neal demanded, looking annoyed by the roundabout answer. “Glad you can count, kid.”
Skyler flushed, about to snap back, but Tom cleared his throat sharply. “So we're facing forty of the enemy. Near even numbers.” Actually outnumbered by six, since Skyler wouldn't be fighting and he'd need to keep two of the recruits back, to watch the horses and be ready to ride hard for Camptown to give warning in an emergency.
But it would do a lot for his people's confidence to give the impression that the odds weren't against them. Unless of course, you considered the fact that they were facing well equipped, well trained, ruthless soldiers with who knew how many years of fighting under their belts, and over half of his volunteers weren't much more than raw recruits.
Still, at least they knew where the enemy was, while hopefully their own existence was still a secret. More importantly, they also had days more time than they thought to shape the confrontation to their advantage. If they handled this right, both those things could make all the difference.
Tom broke a stick off a nearby fallen log and crouched, hastily scratching a rough map in the dirt as the volunteers gathered around him. “This is what the area around us looks like, and this spot half a day north of here is probably our best hope for an ambush that isn't too obvious . . .”
Chapter Five
Opportunity
Well, shoot.
Those three Sangue squads that had come south searching for their lost squad had been bad enough, but the area around Highway 29 was absolutely crawling with bloodies. To the point where Brandon wondered just how many soldiers the enemy invaders had, that they could throw so many at a tiny mountain road just for guard duty.
Okay, so crawling might've been a slight exaggeration. But he did spot two different half-squads patrolling the area south of the highway, and the road itself seemed to be more frequent
ed with vehicles; four convoys passed during the hour or so he was there watching, all moving slowly and with what seemed to him like undue vigilance.
Considering the fact that Brandon's group had headed northwest from Camptown, about as far from Joes Valley as you could get, and the stretch of road he'd chosen to approach wasn't really of any tactical or practical interest to anyone, and even so the bloodies had this much defense along it, didn't fill him with a whole lot of confidence.
Looking at it, he might have to reconsider whether it would even be possible to take out the highway the way Trapper wanted. Although he wasn't about to give up without at least trying.
After assessing the situation for another hour, he crept back to where he'd left the others a safe distance away and gathered them around to report his findings. “We're going to cross to the area north of the road,” he concluded quietly. “With any luck, the patrols are lighter there, since they think the danger is coming from the south.”
His friend Andy Warrens, who'd volunteered to come with him, spoke up. “Maybe then, along with taking out the road if we find an opportunity, we should try doing something north of it to get them looking that way. If they're searching in both directions, that'll be half the soldiers they've got looking in the right place.”
That was a good suggestion, something to consider. “If we can manage it, and it doesn't interfere with taking out the road,” he replied thoughtfully. “For now, though, we need to focus on sneaking past their patrols and getting across the road without being spotted.”
That was easier said than done. The seven people with him were all in good shape and reasonably good at staying out of sight, but that didn't mean there weren't a few hair-raising moments as they hid from passing patrols closer to the road.
Finally, though, Brandon reached what he judged from his earlier scouting was the best place to attempt crossing the road. He motioned the others to the ground as he searched the trees and other hiding spots on the far side of the highway through his scope, taking his time to be thorough. He saw no sign of movement or anything suspicious, but that was no guarantee there wasn't anything there.
Then there was the fact that, even though he'd found a spot where the trees crowded the road on both sides, dramatically lessening the time they'd have to spend on the exposed pavement, they were still looking at over twenty feet in the open.
Twenty feet Sangue would be watching more closely than anywhere else in this entire area.
“I'll go first, low and fast,” he whispered. “Assuming I don't get shot at on the way across, I'll spend a half hour or so searching the area on the far side to make sure it's safe. You guys do the same on this side. Once I come back, if we all agree we haven't found any enemies, the rest of you will cross.”
“You know, we could just wait for nightfall,” Andy said, staring uneasily at the stretch of pavement. “Take out the risk entirely.”
Brandon shook his head firmly. It was still an hour or so to noon, and he didn't want to waste the whole day loitering in an area swarming with Sangue, just to make certain that a seemingly abandoned stretch of highway really was.
“Look at it this way,” he said with a tight smile. “I'm taking all the risk here . . . if I do get shot at and the bloodies all come chasing me howling for my blood, I'll lead them on a merry chase north of the highway, far away from you, before I try to break away and head back to Camptown. While I'm gone Pine will be in charge, and he can judge the situation and decide whether to keep going with the mission to take out the highway, or it's too dangerous and you should head home.”
Hank Schmidt, one of the townspeople who'd come with them, shook his head sourly. “I signed up to do some digging and cutting down trees. I'm not sure how happy I am to dodge bullets or flee a manhunt by trained soldiers.”
Brandon clapped him on the shoulder. “Well, good thing I'll be the one doing that.” He turned back to the highway, planning the critical few seconds of his crossing and picking out bad spots in the road to avoid. As well as what cover he'd take on the far side, and the route he'd use climbing the far slope to begin his search.
That didn't take long since he'd already planned all that; what took longer was mentally steeling himself for the risk he was about to take. And this was just twenty feet along an abandoned stretch of road; he couldn't imagine the courage it took to rush into combat with machine guns shooting at him.
That firmed his resolve, and he took a few quick breaths and went.
What felt like an instant after he'd started he was halfway across, and in another instant he was in the woods on the far side, ducking behind a couple fallen logs piled against a tree. Over the pounding in his ears, he strained to hear any shouts of alarm or challenge, or the noise of hidden people suddenly moving to pursue him.
He hadn't heard any gunshots, which was an immense relief, but that didn't mean there was no one pointing a gun at him right now. After all, he might've gotten across before they had time to more than catch sight of him, and now they were searching for a clear shot, or moving into position for one.
Well, in that case, he should keep moving too. He eased through the trees, making his way up the path he'd previously picked out. On closer inspection, it was a bit more difficult than it had looked, but that tended to be the case while trailblazing up in these mountains. Especially on steep, densely forested slopes like this one.
No gunshots shattered the quiet as he moved, the woodland creatures around him still and wary at his presence. At least, hopefully only his presence; just to be safe Brandon ducked down and went still for a few minutes, until the squirrels and other animals started up their usual noises again.
Well, now he knew nobody was moving around out there. At worse, they were hiding like he was.
He slowly rose to search the area around him with his scope, reassuring himself that this entire area still looked clear. Then, more confident now but still wary of unpleasant surprises, he got moving again and began his search.
A half hour later, he'd confirmed with as much confidence as was reasonable that he was alone on this side of the highway. Reassured, he made his way back and covered the rest of his team as they hurried across the narrow stretch of pavement, all going at once but spread out by ten feet or so in case someone really was waiting to take potshots at them.
Nobody did.
Brandon clapped Pine and Andy on the shoulder, then got them started headed farther west with the highway just barely in sight, making sure they knew to look out for spots where they could take out the road. While they were doing that he scouted ahead, and sent Andy to scout to the north to make sure no bloodies were headed their way from that direction.
That seemed unlikely, since so far they hadn't seen any sign of Sangue north of the road; the enemy's focus was obviously south, which was bad for Camptown but good for them. And he was getting more and more behind Andy's idea of luring the bloodies into a manhunt north of the highway, if they could manage it.
Scouting was lonely work, and Brandon's thoughts weren't exactly conducive to being alone at the moment. That was probably why, as he moved cautiously across the various forested hillsides and meadows running alongside the road, he couldn't help but gaze thoughtfully at the trackless mountains north of them.
Perhaps he was looking at the very slopes his friends the Hendricksons had traveled, as they fled the threat of Sangue looming over their heads.
There were times, like right now, when their decision to leave their friends and home behind, and venture into unknown lands that might or might not be safe, didn't seem so crazy. In fact, as he scouted ahead of his group, some guilty part of him searched for the best path to safely get through this area with his own family. So they could make their way north themselves if it came to that.
He wasn't ashamed to admit he'd do anything for Fi and little Thomas.
Even abandon the man who'd saved them and the family who'd taken them in, if it looked like Sangue was about to find the bowl valley. Even w
alk away from his commitment to protect the town in exile. Even venture into an unknown, hostile world overrun with bloodies with no safe havens to be found. If it looked as if their new home was in danger, if it looked as if his wife might have to face the same hell she'd suffered five years ago, there was nothing he wouldn't do to protect her and their son.
What he did feel guilty about, at least a bit, was that in spite of that fierce resolve to protect his loved ones, it was a relief to have been assigned to this lengthy and dangerous mission. Trapper had picked him because he was the best qualified to do it, but Brandon couldn't help but feel that most of his motivation for accepting was because Fi's nightmares had started up again in force, starting the night after Skyler brought word of rescuing those women from the bloodies. Especially when she learned that her husband was trying to get them to safety with Sangue in hot pursuit.
Ever since Brandon had returned from Gerry's Ravine, it had been back to sleepless nights spent comforting his wife. He could never complain about doing whatever he could to ease the burden of her terrible past, but that didn't mean it didn't kill his spirit to see her going back to how she'd been just after Trapper rescued them from Newpost all those years ago.
As if all the progress they'd made since then was going up in smoke.
So he'd jumped at the mission to take out Highway 29, even while hating himself for feeling like he'd abandoned the woman he loved when she needed him most. Trapper had promised Kristy would look after her, and he knew Fi would be in good hands with her. Even more, his wife had firmly insisted he should go when he told her, reassuring him that along with Kristy's help and support, she'd formed a strong bond with Jenny and the other women he'd helped save. One that was providing her some comfort, as she helped them the way Kristy had helped her.
But even knowing she had plenty of support back home, that didn't change the fact that she was suffering through tormented nights with no company but baby Thomas, and Brandon was here days away. He wouldn't even know there was a problem until he got back to Camptown, and that wasn't doing anything for his nerves.
