Holding Their Own XI: Hearts and Minds (20 page)

Now it was gone.

From Katherine’s point of view, the Alliance had been neither angel nor demon. The Baxter Ranch had suffered through the apocalypse, but not nearly as bad as most. With herds of cattle, dozens of well-armed men, and stashes of feed, hay, and food purchased in bulk, they had managed to keep everyone fed while millions had starved.

When the rumors began circulating of a new government being formed out of Alpha, most of the men and women in the surrounding county had merely shrugged with indifference. Out here, it really did not mean all that much.

Then the Alliance had shown up in Fort Davidson with a large force of armed men, eventually taking control of the county seat. The local District Attorney, D.A. Gibson, had even joined their cause.

Despite the endorsement of the county’s head honcho, many residents thought the newcomers were heavy handed and willing to seize any property to advance their cause. Ownership was a gray area, with so many having died, fled the region, or gone missing.

One such example was a huge recreational vehicle retailer not 10 miles from the Baxter ranch. Men claiming to be sanctioned by the Alliance had descended on the local business and seized several Class-A motorhomes, purportedly to be used by the newly appointed heads of state.

While the representatives from Alpha had asked around about the owner of the multi-million dollar business, they hadn’t invested a whole lot in research or due diligence before driving away with several of the most expensive models. The entire episode just didn’t seem right to Katherine and her peers. She had invested with the owner years ago when it was a start-up. Her safety deposit box at the bank contained stock certificates that documented her 8% ownership, but the branch hadn’t been open since everything had gone to hell. As of yet, no one had offered her any compensation before absconding with the dealership’s vehicles.

When a drifter relayed the events of Midland Station and how the Alliance had taken control of the entire city via armed incursion, Katherine and her peers had again experienced doubts. After hearing that the owner of an oil refinery had been chased out of his own town by what amounted to a small army, many of the local ranchers became seriously concerned. Who were these people from Alpha? Where would they stop? Was any private property, claimed or unclaimed, exempt from their definition of eminent domain?

Then there was Sheriff Watts.

Out of the blue, after nearly two years of absence, men in patrol cars began roaming the countryside, claiming to have authority. Baxter ranch hands had been stopped and questioned, two of the cowpokes having been arrested in town for public intoxication.

After the run-in with Abe and his crew, Watts had threatened to arrive with hundreds of armed men to arrest both sides of the age-old feud. Katherine wanted the lawman’s nose out of her business. As far as she was concerned, he was late to the party and offered no good solution. His status as a peace officer was questionable at best.

Most of the area’s larger outfits had eyed the fledgling government with a healthy dose of skepticism. It wouldn’t be the first time someone with a hunger for power had tried to rule the surrounding territory. There had been Mexico, various Indian tribes, the original Republic of Texas, the Confederacy, a period of occupation by Union troops, and finally the United States. Most of those “governments,” hadn’t worked out so well. Many had been nightmares of ruthlessness, abuse, and totalitarianism.

Of them all, the good ole’ U.S.A. had been stable, long lasting, and usually fair-handed as far as the ranchers were concerned. At least in recent memory.

Stories started making the rounds, tales of the Alliance battling the U.S. Army. After that came more accounts of Texas separating from Washington and having visions of reforming the long-defunct Republic. While many cheered the move, not all of the region’s citizens were convinced it was the best course.
Why?
the rancher had asked herself a dozen times.
Why separate from the only form of government that had ever worked?

Katherine, along with most of her neighbors, had adopted a wait and see attitude. She understood that rule of law was necessary but didn’t trust so much power in unproven hands.

Now, her homestead was under siege from this unknown entity called the Alliance, and the anger raged through her core over the injustice of the entire affair.

Shaking her head in disgust, she rose from her chair and strode to the southern end of the porch. “Mack?” she called to a group of men huddled nearby.

A lone outline of a large man separated from the cluster, quickly stepping toward the house. When his face was clear in the moonlight, he removed his hat and replied, “Ma’am.”

“At first light, I want to go back to the valley and see for myself. I want to bring as many men as we can muster.”

“Yes, ma’am. We’ll be ready.”

“Good night, Mack. Get some sleep if you can.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Pete scanned the crowd and was pleased. Practically every stool and table was filled with a paying customer. It also pleased him greatly that his patrons were a mixture of familiar faces and folks he’d never met before. Travel was a sign of commerce, trade, and wealth. It was a good omen.

In fact, business had been so good, he was finding it difficult to keep enough help in the bar. With his other investments growing rapidly, he should be back in the office checking the books, writing letters to suppliers, and fulfilling the executive role. While he would hardly call his endeavors an empire, he now had several employees and locations to manage. Between that and his duties on the council, Pete was a very busy man.

Still, he loved tending bar. He was a social animal who took great pride in making customers feel comfortable in his establishment. His thriving business offered other, darker benefits as well. The budding capitalist had also discovered that being a good listener while pouring customers their libations was an excellent way to gather intelligence.

Both as a councilman and an entrepreneur, it was beneficial to know what was on the people’s minds.

Working the counter with his ever-present bar towel, Pete noted a man he’d never seen before. The gentleman was well dressed, wearing an expensive suit, silk tie, and expensive watch.
Not your average tourist,
Pete surmised.

The well-heeled gent drew the bartender’s attention for a couple of reasons. First of all, Pete was confident he had an encompassing knowledge of Meraton’s ongoing business opportunities. A man, dressed so formally, most likely wasn’t just passing through, but in town to buy, sell, or invest.

Secondly, he noticed that his new customer was about his own age. Not that many grey-headed folks had survived the downfall.

“Good evening, sir. Could I refill your glass?” Pete inquired with a smile.

“Why, sure. Thank you.”

As the server tipped the bottle, he continued, “First time in Meraton?”

“Yes, it is. I’ve heard so much about the famous market and the Manor hotel; I just wanted to see it for myself. I have business in Alpha tomorrow, so I thought I’d stop over and get a good night’s rest.”

“Smart move,” Pete nodded. “With the government centered in Alpha, rooms there can be extremely difficult to find at times.”

“That’s good to know,” the man replied, sipping from his glass. “If things work out, I may be spending a fair amount of time in Alpha. Perhaps I should look into acquiring a property. This is an excellent spirit. By the way, where did you come across it?”

“That’s my own concoction,” Pete explained proudly, extending his hand and introducing himself as the proprietor. “I own this bar, two micro-breweries, and a distillery over near Austin. That’s our best grade of corn whiskey and my finest creation to date.”

“Pleased to meet you,” the friendly stranger replied with a warm handshake.

Pete waited for the patron to share any details about his occupation, but the man remained silent.

Again, to break the ice, Pete asked, “Coming from back east?”

“No, actually from the north.”

Another customer called out just then, the new arrival calling, “Pete! Good to see you working tonight! It’s about time you started earning an
honest
living. You’ve been spending too much time hobnobbing with all those political types over in Alpha and not paying enough attention to your real friends back here at the bar.”

“A councilman’s work is never done,” Pete replied with a grin.

Before the conversation could continue, movement caught the bartender’s eye.

The well-dressed customer was backing off his stool, a look of complete horror on his face. For a second, Pete thought the man was choking or perhaps ill.

“You okay, sir?”

There was no reply, the stranger breaking eye contact and hustling out of the bar without looking back.

Pete shrugged, glancing at the man’s mostly full glass. There was a hundred dollar bill lying under the shot. “Wow,” he said. “That’s one hell of a tip.”

As he reached for the currency, Pete noticed handwriting on the note. There was a series of numbers and an address in Oklahoma.

Dawn brought a hustle of activity to Bishop’s camp. Awakened by his watch alarm, the Texan had relieved Butter after only 90 minutes of sleep. The parade of yawns just kept coming.

It was one of those mornings where every move Bishop wanted to make was hampered by the apocalypse. Desperate for coffee, he’d decided to use one of his few remaining, ultra-precious fuel pellets to heat water. The burning chemical didn’t produce any smoke, and that was critical at the moment. Yet, they weren’t making them anymore.

The next reminder that the world had gone to hell concerned Grim.

The contractor was running a fever, and that meant infection. With his exhausted, semi-awake mind, Bishop tried to visualize Grim’s life with only one leg, a very real possibility if they didn’t get him some serious medical attention quickly. The image shook the Texan to the core, partly due to his friendship, mostly because it could easily be him lying on the ground, sweaty and moaning with the first stages of gangrene.

The Sat phone’s battery was dead, the charger left behind and most likely burned in the fire. Not that Bishop had a power source. Regardless, it had been a boneheaded mistake made in the rush to retreat. They couldn’t call for help.

Digging in his kit, Bishop produced one of the last bottles of the antibiotic left in the region. Like his fuel pellets, they just weren’t making them anymore.

He shook a pill into the palm of his hand, studying the capsule that was one hundred times more valuable than its weight in gold. “Here, Butter, make sure he gets this down. We’ll give him another in two hours.”

About the only good news was the fact that there wasn’t any sign of pursuit from the valley. Drinking his joe, Bishop watched the trail for 20 minutes while Butter changed Grim’s dressings. It looked like the men back in the valley weren’t up for an early morning firefight.

Returning to camp, Bishop checked on his wounded man and then motioned Butter aside. “We’ve got to get him to a sawbones, or he’s going to lose that leg, maybe his life.”

“Yes, sir. Do we carry him out?”

Bishop knew exactly where he was, and on a paper map, a cross-country trek carrying Grim on a makeshift stretcher didn’t seem like that big of a deal. Reality and the terrain, however, told a different story.

While Fort Davidson was only 11 miles away, it might as well be 111 given the canyons, lack of roads, and mid-sized mountains that dotted the area. It wasn’t impossible, but by the time they crossed the rugged landscape, Grim might already be dead.

“No, I don’t think we can carry him out, and using the road is a bad idea. We’ve got a lot of hostile people around here, and walking alongside the pavement carrying a wounded man doesn’t seem like a winning strategy. We need one of the trucks we left back in the valley.”

Butter nodded but didn’t like the idea. “I don’t think those fellas back there are just going to hand you the keys, sir. Even if you ask nicely.”

The kid had a point.

Bishop turned, his gaze drifting toward the basin area. “Maybe those guys have left after pushing us off. We’re assuming they’re still occupying the place, but we don’t know for sure. I think I need to do a little observation work before we decide on a play. Who knows, I might be able to steal one of the trucks right out from under their noses.”