Against the Grain (15 page)

"Beer? Did that sign say beer? Oh can we stop?" Andrew feigned a child’s whine over the CB.
 

"Yeah sure, and while were in there maybe you can ask them if they knew the two people we just shot and left for dead on the side of the road. Get your game faces on back there," I curtly responded.

"One-One, Two-One, go secure," Breanne radioed over to me a few seconds later.

Before we left, she and I had set up a predetermined "secure" frequency, which was really just a different channel on the handheld
FRS radios, instead of using the CB that everyone could hear. That way, with the ear buds in, we could skip over and have a somewhat private conversation without the rest of the group listening in.

"Two, One, what’s up?" I spoke after changing the channel over.

"Hey you might want to ease up a bit. Everybody is on edge already." 

"They're not on edge enough. Do you have any idea how serious this is?”

I apparently had not completely recovered from the images we had seen at the burnt out farm house and was taking it out on everyone.

“I thought you wanted to check o
ut any trading opportunities,” she answered back, smoothly reading the situation and using my own logic to get through to me without causing an argument.

“I do, but the wrong question or answer to the wrong people could very realistically go very badly. If someone says what we're doing, or where we're going, or where we’re coming from, or if they let on to what we have... just looking at us tells people way too much. On the way back if we can spare it, then one rig will stop and check it out, but right now, everybody needs to stay alert, focused and cold blooded… and for the record, I'd kill for a beer right now,” I finished with a wink over at Cary who was listening in on the one side of the conversation she could hear. “Going back to main
,” I signed off.  

As quick as we came upon the little town, we were through it and driving on towards our destination. Flipping the safety lever of my AK back on, I took a moment to write down everything that we had just seen in the town. I didn’t have a good reason to do it, but out of the habit I recorded my observations to look over later.
 

Miles more down the road I again heard Bre's voice, this time over the "open" CB channel.
 

"Coming up on Checkpoint Six, all rigs report fuel and
 status.”  

One by one all the drivers reported in. And I did what I was sure Breanne was doing too, marking it all down in our log books and doing the math on the fuel consumption, then checking the map to estimate distance, and a number of the other responsibilities that we had to take care of just to make sure we’d all get to where we were going.
 

We were well over half way out to
Trapper Lake and all things considered, everything had gone well so far. But we were entering the desert country and no one, including myself, had any idea what this area held in store for us.

Chapter 15

In the mid 1800’s when pioneering settlers were traveling west, they must have absolutely hated this area. For a hundred miles it was an uneven and hard packed ground where sharp rocks that splintered wagon wheels could not be avoided. Natural ditches formed from rain water run off had trenched deep chasms every which way, but there was never any water in sight. There were two predominate weather patterns; chilling wind and relentless sun. And if you were unfortunate enough to be caught out here in the winter, all bets were off. It was a desolate and barren country until you suddenly came upon one of the hidden oases of lakes and trees.  

In those places, families had found a way to eek out a living. They tilled into the soil and constructed wind mills to pump water and irrigate their fields. There were deer and elk that grazed in this high country, and fish in the deep, cold lakes. Cattle could free range in the open until they were ready to be driven in and sold off at the nearest market; if they managed to survive the coyotes, rattle snakes, diseases and broken legs. It was, to say the least, a hard living.
 

In the more recent history, more than just farming families had found that despite the harsh conditions and hard work, living in this secluded area still had its merits. I was busy thinking about all this, and trying to figure out if a .338 or .50 would be the right long range gun to own if I lived out here, when we finally made the turn off of the old highway and onto the side road that would take us out to the Meehan’s family home.
 

I had
Cary slow us down again to see if we could get under a speed that would keep the tell tale dust cloud down as we drove on the dirt side road. In the end it would seem to make no difference. The rolling hills out here were larger and steeper compared to the somewhat more flat plains we had just been driving through.  

“Turn ten coming up in one mile,” Breanne navigated over the CB.

I had given thought to someone listening in on our open radio transmissions and possibly following along on a map, or even just being able to track us down and trap us out here, but I concluded that indulging in security that neared the level of paranoia probably would have just permanently confused everyone in our own group.

I had talked to Breanne about this too, and we made sure to not be too specific, such as not calling out specific road or place names, and instead using a number system. “Turn ten” was actually not the tenth turn that we made, it was the final turn. This was a simple but possibly valuable amendment to make while broadcasting over the open airwaves. If it helped keep us hidden and safe, I thought it was at least worth the effort.
 

The cattle guard and gate across the long driveway was closed with a chain and hefty padlock. We stopped the three trucks in line, with Karen stopping her suburban right at the gate. Just in case there was an issue we left a good 50 yards between the three trucks.

As I jumped out of the Toyota, I again spoke into the coiled CB microphone. “Go to Defensive Two.”  

This was one of the few predetermined situations that I had foreseen and gone over with the whole group before we had departed. My plan was for me and Derek to take off and scout up to and around his parent’s house while the others waited at the trucks. Breanne was going to find a nice high place to over-watch and direct events with a radio if needed, and Andrew would come up and take over shooting responsibilities for me and Derek at the front of the column. This was the best way I could figure out of establishing some sort of security while we were stopped.
 

Once she got set, it was Breanne’s show from there on out, which actually accomplished two things. First, she had the majority of the people with her, so naturally she would take over if the group needed leading. Secondly, it finally relinquished any perceived “authority” from me, to the new family when we all met them.
 Breanne would have to effectively act as an emissary for our group. It would be up to her to extend any invitation to come back and join the families, her families, at the Ranch.   

Derek and I looked over the tracks in the driveway, but with the lack of rain it was impossible to estimate how fresh any tracks really were. We walked up the long slow ascent of the hill. The driveway switch-backed, and once we crested the top, we took our time coming up towards the house. We were walking close to the driveway, and not quite on it. If there was anyone up at the house, family or otherwise, we wanted to see them before they saw us.
 

We both stopped as the peak of the big farmhouse came into view over the final hilltop. Silently and in unison, we dropped to our knees and slowly crawled up to a point where we could observe the house. Derek reattached the scope on the Saiga, checked the safety, and used it to see things in better detail while I looked around us in all directions, zooming in occasionally with the little monocular that I kept in my pocket.
 

When my eyes came back around to the house, I could see the grass was high near the barn, sheds and various outbuildings, but the lawn near the house had been tended to. There was a long bed pickup truck and a newer Jeep parked in front of the detached garage. A slight movement caught my eye and I could see the easy flapping of bed sheets, towels and other clothes waving in the breeze, all hanging on a clothes line erected beside the house. That’s when I noticed the broad smile on Derek’s face that was still behind the scope. Even for the rough and tough guy that he was, there was nothing like coming home, and after all this time, it was liable to break him down.
 

“Let’s just take it nice and slow up the driveway from here with our guns slung. I don’t want to get shot now that we’re finally here,” I reminded him.
 

Before starting off again, I took the time to give Breanne a quick update. “Two, One, things are looking good here. We’re going to go all the way on up. You have anything?”
 

“All clear,”
came her crisp reply. At least the radio reception was good out here.

We turned back for the driveway and proceeded up towards the house. I probably should have gotten myself set up in an over-watch, but while we hadn’t seen anyone yet, things were looking good from afar. I also didn’t know if Derek would have had the patience to wait for me to go around and get set up in a position to cover him now that we were so close.
 

Down in a lower pen I saw a small group of sheep eyeing us curiously and could hear the occasional clucking of chickens from somewhere else. We had walked all the way up past the lower shed and were within thirty yards of the house when the front screen door noisily opened and a tall, stately man stood on the threshold.
 

“Can I help you boys with…? Derek? It’s Derek!” Stan yelled back into the house and came down off the front porch only to be surpassed by Sandy, Derek’s mother, running out to greet him.

“Derek what are you doing here? Where’re the kids?” Sandy was asking as she hugged him tightly. I caught his eye and nodded. I was going to give them a moment and radioed back to Breanne to bring the rest of the group up, but before I could, I found I was being eyed by the man himself.

“Sir,” I nodded to Stan.

“Nice to see you again young man,” the words were devoid of any joy, welcome, or heart.

Yep, I hadn’t missed this.

I had taken off my sunglasses, and even under my plain ball cap and after three years and a beard, he still recognized me. Hazard of his job I guess.

“And what are you doing out this far?”
he began in what I could guess was the tone he used during an interrogation. Derek seemed to recognize it too as he jumped in right away.

“He’s here with me. Actually, we’re here with him…them,” the cool cowboy apparently didn’t have a plan on how to play this one smoothly either.

“I…We…Karen and your grandkids are down at the gate,” I stuttered. “We have three trucks and five more people with us, mind if I bring them up?”

Stan looked to his son to try and figure out just what was happening. I couldn’t say I blamed him, but with his separated family now back home, I would have thought it would have been enough to put some trust in me… for once.

“It’s alright Dad, they’re here to help us,” Derek assured him.

It struck me funny hearing someone say that
to
a federal agent.

“Spare key for the gate is under the rock by the gate post,” Stan said matter-of-factly in my direction.

I must have wrinkled my brow at the irony of him having such a simple security measure, because he gave a half hearted little shrug and went over to give Derek another hug.

It only took a moment to radio down to Breanne and have her get the trucks started up the long uphill driveway. I was still standing a few feet off when a man’s voice came from the side of the house, near to where Derek and his parents were standing.

“Stan I think there’s…HEY!” he had the scoped gun snapped to his shoulder in an instant and my hand froze in mid draw of my pistol, knowing that I was already beat.

The AK was still slung across my back and with my off-hand half out of sight, I was slowly trying to make any sort of contact with the gun to be able to get it into action.

The guy was closing the distance quickly with his gun still up, squarely on me. Derek took a step towards him, reaching for the 1911 he had stuck in his waist belt at the small of his back, only to have Stan hold up both his hands and shout, “Whoa, GUNS DOWN! Everybody relax!” he commanded.

I slowly let my Glock slide back into place in its holster, and managed to get a good grip on the AK behind my back.
 

“Derek?” the new guy asked, finally recognizing his brother in law to be.

“Hey man!” Derek said excitedly recognizing him too, and giving him a big bear hug.  

“You can probably relax now,” the still familiar woman’s voice
came from my far side.

Tiffany had come around the other side of the house and was now walking up to greet me. She still looked incredible.

“Hey… it’s been a long time,” I charmed her after letting out a long breath.

“Hi yourself,” she rushed up and give me a great hug. “God, I’ve missed you!”

“Tiffany!” Her Mother, Father and Fiancé RJ, all said at nearly the same time.

She pulled back, giving me a covert giggle and smile with feigned innocence and a hint of embarrassment over the little slip.
 

Thankfully the three trucks interrupted us as they appeared over the rise in the driveway and made their way toward the parking area near the front of the house. I noticed RJ’s grip tighten on his rifle and I pulled his attention to me by swinging my AK around in front of me. I kept it slung and pointed safely at the ground, but made eye contact with him and shook my head back and forth slightly, indicating that he should not be too jumpy.

Karen no more had their suburban parked when the doors flew open and Tucker and Leslie ran out to greet their grandparents. It was as good a time as any for me to make a little escape back to my own group and give them some much needed family time and tears.

“Everything go okay?” Breanne asked, noticing my hold on the AK in front of me.

“Yeah, a couple of surprises for everybody I think,” I played her question off. “You get the gate all locked back up?”

“Yeah man, it’s hard to tell we were ever there,” Jake said as he hobbled out of the back of the Dodge.
 The long, hot and bumpy ride I was sure had taken its toll on him and Drew in the back of the truck, but it had proven necessary and they seemed to be in good spirits. Jake made a show of standing straight up, stretching his legs and back, and noticed what must have been a look of concern from someone.

“Nothing a nice hot oil massage from Julie won’t fix,” he grinned.

“Massage yourself,” Julie said, coming around the front of the truck and throwing a water bottle to her long time boyfriend.

Jake easily caught it and proceeded to drink deeply, and then dumped the reminder of its contents onto his face to wash away the miles of dust and dirt.

“So who’s the hottie with the gun and chick with the big boobs that are staring at us?” Julie asked and offered me another bottle of water.

I always had appreciated her straightforward attitude, except when drinking wine and playing board games at Nick and Breanne’s house back in our early college days. Then she would just get mean.
 

“The dude is RJ, and that’s Tiffany, his fiancée. The scary guy is Stan, and that’s his wife Sandy,” I made the one sided introductions.
 

“Before we get too friendly or relaxed, we need to do a run down of the fuel and water left in the Dodge and 4Runner.” I said, but Breanne passed a pad of paper over to me with everything already on it.

“Did it while you were up here… What we really need to do is find a spot to use the bathroom,” She advised, with Cary nodding her head eagerly in agreement.

“You got it. Stan, Sandy,” I interrupted the homecoming, “I hate to ask, but we have a few things to get sorted out if we could.”

“Everybody remember to watch how much you say, let Derek and Bre handle… stuff,” I quietly reminded our group as the Meehan family made their way over to us.