Mountain War: Defending Their Home (Mountain Man Book 4)

by Nathan Jones

  That meant that to secure those precious items required a more conventional fight, teams breaching buildings and going in guns blazing, using what grenades they still had to soften entrenched resistance. Gray's militia had done that sort of thing before a time or two and was up to the challenge, but it was a sad fact that more people were probably lost in securing the town than had fallen while storming the fortifications.

  Which, come to think of it, was a small miracle in and of itself, since they could've all died trying to rush the enemy where they were strongest.

  The sun was just cresting the horizon when Gray's shrill whistle and hand signals let Tom and the others know that the job was finally done; the last of the resistance had been cleared.

  Emery was theirs.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Victory

  The final tally was 174 bloodies slain, mostly by heavy machine gun fire.

  On the attacking side, Mitchells's force had been badly mauled by the sentries along the fortification, losing nine people and with seven more wounded. It would've been ten people, but one of Gray's medics had been able to save the man, although he'd done so by amputating his patient's leg just above the knee.

  Gray's force had been hit even harder, since not only had the sentries on the eastern fortifications targeted them first, but they'd also taken significant losses while clearing the town. They'd lost fifteen people, and eleven wounded.

  Tom's losses were more modest by comparison, two dead and six wounded. He'd been fortunate not to have his people discovered until they were nearly in position, and hadn't had to do anything besides man the fortifications while the militia did the hard work.

  By any objective standard it was a major victory, one worth celebrating. And more than a few people were, cheering and throwing their hats in the air, slapping companions on the back and even hugging. He even caught sight of Neal and Reina sharing a jubilant kiss right in the middle of a street, and they weren't the only ones among the men and women who'd fought for their lives and futures that morning.

  But the satisfaction of what they'd managed here didn't make it any easier to see the lined up bodies near the vehicles, who were being prepared to be taken to where Brady was waiting with the horses to take the supplies they brought him back to Camptown. They couldn't afford to take the dead with them all the way back, but they could at least give them a proper burial at the foot of the mountains before returning to the valley.

  Tom's heart was heavy at the sight, but there was no time to mourn the brave men and women who'd died fighting to take this place at the moment. There was too much to do, and they faced the risk of a Sangue convoy driving into town at any moment and forcing another fight.

  First things first, now that the bloodies were taken care of they were able to rescue seventy or so prisoners from the slave camp on the eastern end of town. Tom was a bit surprised there were so many, since lately the bloodies had been more interested in shooting the people they captured than in taking slaves.

  Once he got the story from the traumatized people after they were freed from the camp, and given food and water they desperately needed, he discovered that was mostly the case here as well; these prisoners, many of which he or the other Emery townspeople recognized, were the survivors from hundreds, even thousands, of innocent people in the area that Sangue had hunted down and killed.

  And it was obvious what the bloodies' main motivation had been for taking these slaves.

  There were almost no children, and less than twenty of those they freed were men, young and healthy enough that the enemy considered them worth shipping south for lives of hard labor. The rest were young women the occupied town's garrison had been keeping around for themselves and the soldiers in passing convoys.

  Their gaunt, bruised faces and hollow expressions bore witness to the horrors they'd suffered. An even more concerning sign was that the reality of their rescue hadn't seemed to set in for many, who continued to huddle together in listless despair. As if they could no longer believe life offered anything better than the hell they'd endured for who knew how long.

  Tom grit his teeth at the heart-wrenching sight, wondering why he still found it shocking every time he found evidence of what animals Sangue were. Although he was certainly saddened and sickened by it.

  The women among the volunteers and militia quickly took charge of the freed slaves, gathering around them protectively and offering what comfort and encouragement they could after what they'd been through. As well as commiseration from those like Jenny and Mer who'd been through that same hell themselves.

  There was still a lot to do, and Tom wanted to afford the freed people the dignity of not having a bunch of people standing around gawking at them, so he chivvied the rest of the fighters back to the task of scouring the town, searching for any more hidden enemy soldiers and gathering up everything worth taking.

  Mitchells joined him, although his eyes were flashing and his teeth clenched. “Still conflicted about knifing those bloodies while they slept?”

  “About the act, a bit,” Tom replied grimly. “Not so much about who I did it to.”

  Aside from the people lost or wounded in the attack and the sad condition of the freed prisoners, everything else was good news. The captured vehicles were almost all intact, ready to haul the supplies, weapons, equipment, and other useful things from Emery to the rendezvous point up north where Brady waited with the horses.

  As for the food, bedding, warm clothing, and other things they planned to take, most of it was in good shape. Mitchells's people estimated that the storehouses they ransacked had enough food to feed the thousand or so people in the valley for at least two months, maybe more. It was mostly food meant to store for long periods of time, as well, which meant they could try to save as much of it as possible for winter.

  Another huge boon came while a few of Gray's people who knew Spanish and Portuguese were tearing apart the command building, when they stumbled across access codes for the radios that someone had carelessly scribbled on a notepad. That meant Tom's dream of being able to listen in on Sangue and know what they were doing would finally be realized, something which pleased the leader of Grand Junction's militia just as much.

  As for the armory, well, that was pretty much a dream come true.

  First off they now had the four heavy machine guns from the fortifications, as well as another two that had been mounted on vehicles. That sort of firepower meant any attempts by Sangue to attack the valley would effectively be suicide unless they brought thousands of people in from all directions. Although the bad news there was that they'd used up almost all the ammunition with the guns during the fight, and there was surprisingly little to replace it in the armory. Still, it would make a huge difference.

  And that was just the beginning: the armory was neatly arranged with racks of AK-47s and 9mm pistols, stacks of body armor and helmets, seemingly endless shelves of ammunition, and numerous crates of goodies they'd need to crack open to see what was inside. As well as specialized gear such as Geiger counters and metal detectors.

  “Well,” Mitchells said with some satisfaction, looking around the neatly organized space, “looks like we'll be paying you back for all those guns and bullets you loaned us. With interest.”

  No kidding. Combined with what they already had, there were enough weapons in here to arm every single person in the bowl valley, and then some. And not just weapons, either; he also saw radios and communications equipment.

  And the biggest prize of all, explosives. Lots and lots of explosives. Grenades, of course, but when they cracked open the first of a couple long cases they also found some more serious weaponry.

  Mitchells swore, staring down at the contents in awe. “You have any idea what this is?”

  Tom hovered his hand over the large tube, studded with actual working gadgetry, but didn't want to risk touching it. Then he looked at the three bulbous objects couched in the foam below the tube. “Some kind of rocket or missile launcher
?” he replied.

  “Yeah.”

  Silence settled as Tom stared at the sheriff, who still had his eyes locked on the heavy weaponry. After a few seconds he cleared his throat. “So what is it?” Mitchells gave him a blank look and he waved his hand impatiently. “You asked what it was like you knew the answer.”

  The man actually had the courage to run a finger along the rocket launcher, hesitantly like he was petting a strange, vicious looking dog. “Nah, just that it's some serious firepower. Something we can blow up a lot of bloodies with.”

  Tom caught the man's hand and pulled it away from the weapon. “Or ourselves, since none of us know how to use it.”

  Camptown's leader huffed. “How hard can it be? It was being carted around by idiot bloodies who don't know much beyond how to rape and murder defenseless people. I bet it's as easy as shoving a rocket into the tube and pulling a trigger.”

  He snorted. “Yeah, sure. You want to be the one to try it out?”

  Mitchells was quiet for a few seconds. “I'm going to go out on a limb and say if anyone knows, it'll be Gray and his people. Or I suppose there's an outside chance Pine would.”

  “Speaking of Pine,” Brandon, who'd been helping search the armory, called from farther down among the plastic crates and cases, “he should probably get in here for this."

  Half a dozen people converged on the young man, who'd cracked open a small case and was now eyeing it uneasily. It was filled to the top with bricks of dense dark gray material, and warnings in Spanish and Portuguese were stenciled all over the outside in large capital letters.

  “C4 . . . Pine's going to soil himself,” Ray Mickelson said, staring in delight at the half dozen identical cases stacked around the first.

  A worrying amount, in fact, probably a few hundred pounds of the stuff. In fact, Tom was wondering whether he shouldn't be soiling himself at the sight of it. “No doubt.” He caught the man's shoulder as Ray leaned in to grab one of the carefully wrapped and labeled bricks from the open crate. “Speaking of which, let's go get him before we come within six feet of any of this.”

  The prickly volunteer gave him an impatient look. “Come on, Trapper. This is military grade ordnance, already packed to be moved. It was designed so any idiot could safely transport it.”

  “Is that an idiot's opinion?” Tom shot back. “There's enough C4 here to blow Emery sky high. What do you say we not take any chances, and spend an extra minute grabbing our resident explosives expert?”

  “Explosives acquaintance,” Ray grumbled, although he grudgingly started for the door.

  The others kept working moving the other ammo out of the small structure, while Tom stood thoughtfully staring at the cases of explosives. They opened up a lot of possibilities, couldn't argue that. Including, for a start, a more thorough job taking out Highway 29 than Brandon had been able to manage with what he'd had.

  And booby traps. Holy smokes, they could turn the area around the bowl valley into a deathtrap if need be. Between this stuff, the rocket launchers, and the .50 cal machine guns, they could make sure no Sangue came within miles of Camptown.

  Pine came bursting into the armory not long after that, every bit as excited about the explosives as they thought he'd be. He got to work cataloguing them and prepping them to be safely moved, and now that everyone was finished drooling over the contents of the armory Tom and Mitchells put them to work emptying the place out.

  Once the volunteers and militia in the building were busy with that task, they quickly got everyone else to work ransacking every other building Sangue had occupied, stripping the fallen enemy soldiers, and securing the vehicles. Then the volunteers rushed to load the critical supplies onto the trucks and side-by-sides, as much as the vehicles could fit, while Gray had his people spread out to watch the approaches to the town, especially along Highway 10, for more Sangue.

  There was a chance that more convoys might drive in at any moment, which presented a potential for disaster, but also an opportunity to take out more of the enemy and capture more supplies. With the heavy weapons they'd just taken from the occupied town, they were more capable than ever of dealing with unexpected arrivals. Especially since the leader of Grand Junction's militia had years of experience with that kind of fighting.

  Still, Tom hoped no convoys dropped in to complicate things.

  Soon enough, the volunteers had everything useful they could load up quickly into every available vehicle. Tom and his scouts hopped on four wheelers to lead the way north along Highway 10, while Mitchells led the impromptu supply convoy after him, leaving Gray and his men behind to watch the occupied town.

  They drove north along smaller roads skirting the mountains, up to the closest possible spot they could drive to near Camptown and the valley. It was easy to find, because they'd already scouted out the spot and Brady was waiting there with a group of civilians and every single pack animal they had.

  It actually bothered Tom just how quickly they were able to reach the spot in the vehicles, and how close it was, relatively speaking, to the bowl valley on horseback. He knew that once they got onto the steep mountain slopes, especially with their combined force of fighters guarding the approaches, those miles would stretch on to days of hard travel for the enemy.

  Still, it was a sobering reminder of Sangue's reach, and the fact that they loomed close to Camptown in just about every direction.

  Tom kept his scouts roving the area for any enemy troops that might be lurking, while Mitchells pulled the vehicles up and began unloading them onto the pack animals. To everyone's delight, they quickly discovered that they'd managed to capture such a large quantity of supplies that once every horse and mule was loaded down, there was still a huge pile of items that would have to be carried on people's backs. Brady's people had cheered when they first arrived in the captured vehicles, and cheered again once the job of unloading was done and they saw how much they'd taken.

  The freed prisoners stayed behind with Brady, only one difficult march away from starting new lives and, hopefully, in time moving on from the hell they'd suffered. The wounded from the battle also stayed, plans made for those who couldn't walk to be carried. With them remained most of the volunteers, including Brandon and his skirmishers, to help tote the supplies the pack animals couldn't carry back towards the bowl valley at the best possible speed, as well as make sure they didn't leave an obvious trail behind them for Sangue to follow.

  Although before going anywhere, the people staying with Brady got to work digging graves for the Camptown fighters who'd died. Tom and Mitchells stayed for as long as time allowed, to pay their respects to the fallen. Then they gathered up a few people to help drive the vehicles back to Emery.

  For most of the short drive back Tom's heart was in his throat, afraid Gray had run into some trouble while they were gone. Emery had been an outpost, which meant Sangue was constantly coming and going. On top of that, some of their convoys could be enormous: dozens of vehicles, and more soldiers by an order of magnitude than the Emery and Grand Junction fighters combined.

  Even their newly captured heavy machine guns and rocket launchers and the element of surprise might not be enough to deal with a force that size.

  But it helped that it was still only an hour or so after sunrise; to his vast relief, they reached the town to find Gray and his people still waiting tensely for trouble that hadn't arrived. That just left them with the final phase of the plan: destruction.

  While Mitchells's team got the vehicles ready to load everyone up and drive the relatively short distance to the entrance to Tom's valley, Tom and Gray led everyone else on a rampage through the occupied town, burning everything they hadn't managed to take with them, and all the buildings. Tom could see anguish on the faces of the few Emery residents under his command as they burned down their own houses, but determination as well.

  They weren't about to let their homes once again become a staging area for the enemy to wage war on them, offering them comfortable places to s
leep and a safe haven from which to continue to strengthen their control of the area. Tom sympathized with them, because when they passed his ranch on the way back up to Camptown he intended to burn it as well.

  But in spite of the pain of destroying their own town, it was also a cathartic experience for the volunteers to burn the place down, depriving their hated enemy of it. Not to mention, he was sure, the simple joy of burning and destroying things that some were no doubt feeling. Men and women whooped and cheered as they rushed down streets, setting fire to everything.

  There was more need for haste than ever once the fires were started, since the smoke would bring any bloodies in the area rushing to investigate. Tom wanted to make sure the job of destroying Emery and the remaining Sangue supplies and equipment there was a thorough one, but after fifteen or so minutes of staring nervously down Highway 10 in either direction he decided it was good enough.

  Whistling sharply, he began shouting for everyone to load into the vehicles. Some were reluctant, still caught up in their rampage, but in just a few more minutes Mitchells and his drivers were bumping the vehicles along the rough terrain leading to Tom's valley.

  The trip that took close to half a day on foot took a fraction of that in trucks and ATVs. In no time at all they'd reached the bottom of the valley, where the terrain grew too steep and choked with trees and undergrowth to continue.

  Still conscious of the potential for pursuit, Tom and Gray ordered the vehicles siphoned of their remaining diesel, which could come in handy in the future, then sent Mitchells and the remaining volunteers, as well as most of the militia, on ahead with the fuel and the supplies they'd brought with them for the trip back to Camptown.