Holding Their Own: The Salt War (27 page)

Despite the champions being comprised of only two men, Nick and Cory’s attack on their flank was too much for the ineffectively led and lightly trained security forces. In less than a minute, they broke, scampering wildly in retreat.

“Come on!” Nick waved at his besieged teammates. “Are you waiting for an engraved invitation?”

They still had the smaller group of defenders at the barricade to worry about, but their enthusiasm to fight seemed to have faltered after seeing their comrades take a serious ass whooping.

As Grim started to lift Victor onto his shoulder, Nick appeared at his side. “I’ve got him. You need a break,” the larger team leader announced.

Effortlessly, Nick hefted the tiny looking merchant. After glancing over at Kevin and nodding, the four SAINT members, along with the two locals, faded away into the night.

“I’m damn glad to see you, but where the hell did you come from?” Grim asked as the team moved away from Cartersville.

“When Cory explained to me what was going on, I decided we’d better see if we could lend assistance. We heard the gunfire, so we drove the truck and hid it closer to town. I figured if there was shooting going on, you were probably in the middle of it,” Nick grinned.

“Well, thank the heavens for small miracles. That one was getting close,” Grim responded.

“We’ll talk about my son’s welfare while under your charge later,” Nick stated. Grim couldn’t tell if the big guy was kidding or not.

They found the pickup, left behind a barn in waist-high weeds. Victor’s moaning signaled he’d regained consciousness, the merchant’s nose broken by Stan’s mighty blow. Nick tossed the doctor a first aid kit and then observed as the physician went about tending to his friend.

Satisfied the injured man was receiving excellent care, Nick then moved to Kevin’s side. He watched as his son tried to reload a magazine, the young man’s hands trembling so badly he couldn’t hold onto a cartridge.

Gently placing his hand over Kevin’s, Nick said, “It’s okay, son. Everything is going to be fine. You’re safe now.”

Kevin peered up at his father, trying desperately to hold back the tears. Nick knew exactly what his son was feeling, had experienced similar emotions a dozen times in his early career. A soldier taking a life for the first time was one thing, facing one’s own certain death was another. The young teen’s brain was dealing with still being alive after he’d prepared himself to die. Survival, under such circumstances, is often extremely difficult to reconcile, and the older soldier knew how it felt. When father pulled son close, the kid couldn’t hold back anymore, bursting into a deep sob.

Nick didn’t say anything, keeping a tight hold on his son. Waves of weeping racked Kevin’s body, his father feeling each and every shudder. Despite every man at the camp being well aware of what was happening, no one said a word.

After a bit, Kevin worked it out of his system. Wiping his face on a sleeve, he glanced at his father and nodded his thanks. “I’ve pulled it together,” he said bravely. “I’ll be all right.”

“No, you won’t,” Grim’s voice sounded as he stepped to Kevin’s side. “We’ve all been right where you’re standing, kid. You’ll never be like you were - never be the same again. Eventually, you’ll manage to keep it under control, and that’s about the best any soldier can ask for. It’s a skill just as important as being able to shoot or run or reload. And let me add this; you can fight beside me any day of any week. You did well, and I don’t say those words to many men.”

Kevin nodded his thanks to Grim and then returned to reloading his magazines. Still, he couldn’t control the shaking. “You go heat up some coffee, and check the perimeter with my carbine,” Grim ordered. “I’ll take care of your mags.”

When the kid hesitated, Grim squared up. “That’s an order, trooper. Do it.”

Nick and Grim watched the younger man leave. After he was out of sight, Nick looked down at Grim and mouthed the words, “Thank you,” and then spun away quickly, moving off to talk to the men from Cartersville.

Bishop and Reed rode hard for about 10 miles, finally slowing so their animals could recoup. Near the boulder field where the ambush had taken place, both men dismounted for a break. Reed was thirsty, his body trying to heal from the beating suffered at the hands of his captors.

Checking him out as best he could, Bishop didn’t think the cowboy had suffered life-threatening injuries. “You’re going to be sore as hell for a month,” he advised. “But you’ll live.”

“Thanks to you,” the ranch hand replied. “How did you pull that off?”

“We can talk about that later. Right now, I have one pressing question. ‘How are my wife and son?’”

Reed detected the edge in his rescuer’s voice and was glad he could deliver good news. “They’re just fine,” he responded. “Mr. Culpepper has been treating them as honored guests. That boy of yours is as cute as a bug’s ear from what I hear.”

The relief that flooded Bishop’s body was beyond description. That one statement lifted a tremendous weight from the Texan’s shoulders, instantly improving his energy and mood.

The two riders continued for another few hours until they reached the valley’s summit. “There’s not enough moon to guide the horses down,” Reed advised. “Besides, Mr. Culpepper’s patrols are probably a little trigger happy right now. I suggest we hide out here until daylight and then ride on in.”

Bishop agreed.

Reed tethered their steeds, giving each animal a handful of grain from the saddle bags. He pulled a small bowl from the same area, pouring each horse a trifling amount of liquid from his canteen. “I saw the Tejanos water these animals,” he informed Bishop. “They’ll be okay.”

“So I assume you know how to get into the ranch without getting us shot?” Bishop asked.

“We should be fine,” the cowpoke responded. “They’ll change the patrols and lookouts if they think I was captured. The Tejanos have a way of making a man talk if they take one of us alive.”

Satisfied with the answers he received, Bishop continued on to the next task. “You’ve had the shit beat out of ya, so I’ll take the first watch. I’ll wake you up a few hours before dawn.”

“You’re a good man,” Reed nodded. “I hope to pay you back one day.”

A few moments later, with his hat tipped low over his eyes, loud breathing drifted through the otherwise still night air as the cowhand drifted off to sleep.

Bishop was so elated to hear his family was well, that he probably wouldn’t have been able to rest anyway. Taking a perch on a nearby high rock, the Texan’s thoughts drifted to what Terri and he would do once they were reunited at the Culpepper spread. There was still the problem of an ongoing war.

Unless Terri had formed some grand idea, Bishop didn’t believe a solution was possible.

The subject was complex enough that it commanded most of the Texan’s time. Before he knew it, the eastern sky was glowing with its announcement of the coming day. Reed would indeed be grateful for the extra shuteye.

Wishing they could build a fire and sip some coffee, Bishop finally nudged his co-rider awake. “I let you sleep all night by accident,” he stated. “Besides, you looked like you needed the rest.”

“Again, I’m in your debt,” came the yawning response. Like most men who made their living on the range, Reed was ready to climb into the saddle in less than 10 minutes.

Down from the ridge they rode, eventually reaching the desert plain. Yellow-brown sand stretched off into the distance as far as Bishop could see, the featureless terrain looking sun-bleached and barren.

The pace was faster on the flat earth, the two riders continuing north at a steady pace. There was little conversation, only the occasional comment such as, “Going to be a hot one today,” and “Your water supply holding up?”

The flatlands eventually turned into gradual slopes of sand and rock. At the crest of one such formation, Reed signaled for Bishop to stop. “We’re getting close,” he said. “The ranch is less than two miles away.”

They continued, ultimately spying the outline of low, hazy rooflines in the distance.

Through the heat mirages rising from the hot sand floor, Bishop spotted the riders approaching. Five men met them face on, Reed’s reunion with his friends tainted by Bishop’s presence. “He saved my ass,” Reed informed. “The Tejanos were sharpening their skinning knives and giving me the evil eye, but my friend here busted me loose.”

“What about Frank?” one of the riders asked.

Staring down at his saddle horn, Reed delivered the bad news. “He didn’t make it, but he didn’t suffer none. They took him out with the first shot right through here,” he reported, pointing at his heart.

They rode on in, Bishop dismounting just inside the main gate and handing his reins to one of the cowboys. His only thoughts were of Terri and his son.

Terri was making her bed when she heard the floor creak behind her. Subconsciously reaching for the pistol resting on the bedside table, she jumped when a familiar voice said, “I know I’ve been away for a while… are you really mad enough to shoot me?”

“Bishop!” she shouted, rushing to his arms.

He lifted her off the ground, spinning in circles of joy. “I’ve never been so happy to see anyone in my life,” he said honestly. “You don’t know how much I’ve worried about….”

Terri smacked his chest with her hand, interrupting his words. “Don’t you ever take off and leave me alone again or I’ll…” she began, but then stopped, staring into his eyes. 

She kissed him passionately for several moments, then abruptly pulled away and struck him again. “If you ever….” The protest was stopped short, her lips returning to his.

Hunter soon joined in the family embrace, the three of them forming a triangle of hugging and kissing. Bishop couldn’t remember ever feeling so good.

The sound of someone in the hall clearing his throat interrupted the reunion. Bishop and Terri turned to see Mr. Culpepper standing outside Terri’s room.

Tipping his hat, the old rancher said, “I hate to break in like this, but I’m getting ready to head out to the east fence. I was wondering if I might have a word with my new guest before I leave.”

Bishop extended his hand and introduced himself. Mr. Culpepper responded in kind, showing the younger man a firm, confident grip.

The two men ambled to the front porch, Terri staying beside her husband, not about to be left out. If Culpepper was bothered by her presence, he didn’t show it.

“First of all, I want to thank you for returning my man. Reed’s been with me for a long time and losing him would have been agonizing.”

Bishop smiled, “I was just saving both our hides. Wasn’t any big deal, Mr. Culpepper.”

“What can you tell me about the Tejanos? Are they planning any sort of major attack in the next few days? How are they holding up? Things like that.”

Sighing, Bishop looked the older man straight on. “I really didn’t see much. I saved their leader’s life the night of the ambush. In return, he let me live after his men arrived. I wasn’t a prisoner, but then again, I wasn’t an honored guest. Since he believed I didn’t fight or ride with your outfit, I was just someone passing through.”

“Do they think they’re winning?” came the real question, the same inquiry every weary general wanted to know during difficult campaigns.

“Yes, the people do. But my read on Rocco is that he knows it’s a stalemate, just like you.”

Culpepper wasn’t used to someone putting words in his mouth, especially like those just aired by a stranger in his house. He started to reprimand his new guest, but then changed his mind. Bishop was right, and they both knew it.

“So Mr. Culpepper, here’s the deal. I’m going to take my wife and son, along with those two horses I returned, and we’re going to ride to Meraton. I’ll send the horses back to you.”

“Now just a damn minute, son. You just got here… just rode in on my animals and are standing under my roof. And you’re already telling
me
how it’s going to be?”

Bishop glanced at Terri, his question needing no words.
He doesn’t know about my role in the Alliance
, came the unspoken message.
And I don’t want him to.

Sighing, Bishop looked back at their host. “Mr. Culpepper, I mean no offense, but if we don’t get back to a friendly town pretty soon, our friends are going to come looking for us. There will be a lot of men combing the countryside… and they won’t be overly friendly to anyone who objects to their search. If they end up between you and the Tejanos, who knows how many innocent people, on all sides, could get hurt?”

Again, Bishop managed to raise Culpepper’s ire. There was a thinly understated attempt at intimidation in that last statement, and the rancher didn’t like being threatened.

“I don’t give a shit who comes looking for whom, anyone comes trespassing on my land is going to meet the business end of our rifles,” the older man spouted.

Terri stepped between the two men, attempting to restore calm. “Mr. Culpepper, you’ve been a kind and generous host, but I’m sure you don’t want to be responsible for feeding Hunter and me forever. My husband is only trying to say that there will be a lot of people worrying needlessly about us if we don’t get back soon. Some of them are hotheads and might get a little passionate if they think we are in danger or have been mistreated. Wouldn’t your friends and employees feel the same way? We just don’t see any need to add stress to anyone’s lives.”

Bishop would have grunted if the conversation hadn’t been of a critical nature. His spouse, as usual, had used her charm and diplomatic prowess to rescue his blunt honesty. He could tell from the rancher’s expression that Terri’s logic had defused the old man’s wrath.

“I suppose you’re right,” Culpepper finally responded. “But I want to think about things for a bit before I let you two go gallivanting across the desert with a couple of my horses. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. Please accept my hospitality until then.”

The couple returned to Terri’s room in silence, Bishop closing the door to keep their conversation private. “Sorry about that, I should have let you deal with him from the get go.”

“So… we both have a lot of catching up to do. You go first.”

Bishop spent the next 20 minutes describing his adventures since their separation. She sat and listened intently, only occasionally asking for clarification on a specific point.

After he had finished, Bishop scooped up Hunter and began bouncing the blissful boy on his knee. “Your turn,” he stated flatly.

Terri’s tale took less time, much of the duration spent at the ranch.

Both expressed their frustration at not being able to arrive at a solution to the ongoing range war they had bumbled into.

“I don’t trust our host,” Bishop stated, changing the subject. “After our little interaction a moment ago, I get the feeling he’s just as desperate at the Tejanos. I wouldn’t put it past him to try and hold us for some sort of ransom or payoff.”

Much to Bishop’s surprise, Terri agreed with his analysis of the ranch’s owner. “I think you’re right. But here’s the real news from this side of the trenches. This war has been going on for so long, our friend Culpepper no longer believes peace is possible. The only end to this mess that he can see is the complete genocide of the Tejanos.”

Bishop grunted, “Same goes for Rocco over on the other side. They’re fighting based on hatred and events that occurred before any of the current generation was born. When I asked him if he could envision an armistice in his people’s future, he admitted he couldn’t.”

Again, Terri surprised her husband. “Well, one thing’s for certain. Hunter and I don’t want to be hostages. Let’s get our things packed up, rustle a couple of horses, and get the hell out of dodge.”

“Whoa, there little cowgirl. Just hold your powder for a minute. We can’t just meander out to the barn and abscond with a man’s livestock. We’re going to need water, food, and diapers. We’ll be riding through some very dry terrain for quite some time before we reach Meraton.”

“I’ve made friends with the lady who runs the kitchen,” Terri said in a low, confidential voice. “She’ll help me gather whatever supplies we need.”

Bishop exhaled, his mind wandering to the next problem – viable transportation. “I just saved one of the foremen from being skinned alive,” he announced. “Maybe he can arrange for us to borrow a couple of steeds.”

“Even though Mr. Culpepper ordered us to wait here?”

“Well, he didn’t specifically
order
us, if I recall correctly. I believe he suggested we be his guests,” Bishop replied with a touch of deception inflected in his voice.

Terri rolled her eyes, “Whatever. Do what you have to, Bishop…. Just get us out of here. I really, seriously think it’s wise that we leave.”

“Let’s try for tonight. It will be cooler then, and I hear the stars provide a wonderful view out this way.”

Terri demanded Bishop wash up before he slept in “her” bed. Mumbling uncertainties about the wisdom of marriage and commitment, the Texan took a dip in the adjoining bathroom’s tub, buckets of hot water hauled in from the kitchen.

After drying off and ignoring the ring of dirt at the waterline, he was further frustrated to find his clothes had disappeared. “They smelled like an old army mule,” Terri stated firmly. “They’ll be back by the time you eat and get some rest.”

Sitting on the bed, wrapped in a towel, Bishop wolfed down some excellent stew, the hot meal accented with oven fresh bread and slices of prickly pears. The experience made his eyelids heavy, and in a short time, he was in a deep sleep.

Terri’s rustling around the room woke her husband several hours later. She was busy packing two bags, one for her, the other for Hunter. “You’d better get to work on our horses,” she reminded. “It will be dark in a few hours. I’ve got all of our stuff ready. Your clothes are over there.”

Bishop found his garments clean, soft, and smelling like sunshine. He had to admit, it felt good to put on duds that wouldn’t stand in the corner by themselves.

He found Reed in the bunkhouse, sporting two bandages on his face and a wrapping around his ribs. “They want me to stay in bed for a few days,” the cowboy complained. “I’m afraid the boredom will be the end of me.”

“Sorry to interrupt your beauty rest, but Terri and I have decided we need to head out tonight. Mr. Culpepper isn’t around, so I thought you might be well enough to help in getting a couple of horses ready.”

“Sure,” replied the hand, his legs coming off the bunk. “Let me get on a shirt and boots, and we’ll head over to the tack room.”

A few moments later the two men approached the main stables, Bishop with a saddle on each shoulder, Reed complaining that he wasn’t hurt so bad as to be unable to fetch leather. Still, he hadn’t protested
too
much when the other man had hefted the load.

The armed guard standing duty didn’t even bother to challenge Reed, instead greeting his co-worker with a friendly, “Glad to see you back,” and a nod of his head.

They entered the stables, Reed trailing down the long row of stalls until he found what he was looking for. “This is Bluebird,” he said, pointing to a healthy looking mare. “She is gentle and not easily spooked. I think she’s a good match for your wife and child.”

They continued for a few more cubicles and then stopped, both men standing in front of the same horse Bishop had ridden the night before. “This is Zeus,” Reed introduced. “He’s strong and knows you now. He’ll get you to where you’re going.”

Twenty minutes later, Bishop was leading the two horses to the ranch’s main house. Terri was waiting there, Bishop’s pack, rifle, and assorted luggage sitting nearby.

They rode out at dusk, passing through the rings of security surrounding the ranch without incident.

When they were a few miles to the north, Terri spurred Bluebird in order to ride beside her husband. “Doesn’t it strike you a little odd that no one even challenged us?”

Bishop shook his head, “No, not at all. The sentries are there to keep people from getting in, not getting out. I didn’t really expect any trouble.”

“So what are we going to do when we get back?”

Bishop chanced a glance at his wife, flirting eyebrows moving up and down. “I was going to raise the subject of that second honeymoon,” he teased.

Hunter, riding in a papoose on his mother’s chest, giggled loudly, thinking his father’s funny face was directed at him.

The couple got another good laugh out of that, the fresh, desert air and even footing providing an enjoyable ride.

“Seriously, Bishop. I want to know your opinion about trying to make peace back there.”

The Texan glanced at his wife in an effort to get a read on her mood. “I spent a lot of time trying to work out how that could be accomplished. I think both sides are in the wrong, but both have some reasonable grievances. But, in reality, none of that matters. When I boiled it all down, I came to a conclusion that you’re not going to like.”

“What’s that?”

“That the only option is to let them fight it out.”