Holding Their Own XI: Hearts and Minds (13 page)

“You should talk to her, Bishop. She trusts your judgment.”

“No, she trusts my friendship, my rifle, and my loyalty. Anything I said from here on out would sound like I was a jealous, unforgiving husband. The same goes for you, by the way. If you went to Diana right now and spelled it all out, she’d think you were just trying to get rid of his royal highness to placate me.”

Terri’s expression made it clear she was thinking about her husband’s words. She needed time to analyze his point of view.

“Look, I’ve not seen my son or wife for weeks,” he said kindly. “I’m going to take Hunter to the park, try and find some ice cream, and forget about the world for a while. I’ve missed you both terribly. If you need to stay here and work, then I understand. If not, please join us. We both love you, and it will be more fun if Mom is along.”

“Ice cream?” she brightened. “I’m in. To hell with the government.”

“The Toymaker is sending over two of his best drones,” Terri announced, setting down the single sheet of paper that had just been delivered via Alliance courier. “This note also says one of his best Apache operators will come along to help find the pot growers.”

“Excellent,” Bishop nodded, pausing the tickle fight that Hunter seemed to be winning.

Terri stood watching her two boys return to their roughhousing. Hunter’s cackling laugh filled the room with a unique joy that could only come from the throat of a happy child. The world seemed perfect.

“Ball,” the kid announced, suddenly bored with the current contest. Dad agreed.

Bishop retrieved a large plastic sphere from a nearby box of toys, and a few moments later, they were rolling it back and forth across the old rug.

“Isn’t ball a new word for him?” the smiling father asked.

“I think so, but he’s talking so much I’m having trouble keeping track.”

“He got that from your side of the gene pool,” Bishop teased.

Terri was conjuring up a rebuttal when a knock sounded at the door. “That’s the third interruption this morning,” she complained, “and it’s not even lunch yet.”

Sheriff Watts was on the front porch. Removing his hat, he greeted Terri with a stoic face, “Morning, ma’am. Would your husband be about?”

With Hunter on his hip, Bishop appeared over his wife’s shoulder. “Morning, Sheriff. What’s up?”

The lawman glanced from wife to child, and then back to Bishop. “A word in private, Bishop? We’ve got a bit of a situation on our hands, and I was hoping you and your boys might be able to help.”

If it weren't for the serious look on the man’s face, Bishop would have chuckled. The good sheriff was old school and didn’t want to discuss criminal activity or nefarious acts in front of women and children. Terri took Hunter as Bishop stepped out on the porch.

The lawman got right to the point, as usual. “We’ve had trouble brewing up at Fort Davidson for the past few weeks, and it came to a head this morning. I’ve got a deputy with a slug in his leg and a barn that somebody set on fire. We’ve got two big ranching outfits up that way, both with extended families and lots of hired hands. There’s a tract of land between their spreads that’s been a point of contention since the collapse. Things got a little out of hand last night, and the shooting has started.”

Bishop rubbed his chin, trying to visualize the situation. “Who has rightful claim to the land?”

“Well, that’s the problem. Both sides have a legitimate claim. Decades ago, there was a convenient marriage that seemed to resolve the dispute. Both outfits had been quarreling over the parcel since the late 1800s. In fact, if it weren't for having to join forces and fight off the Indian raids, there would have been a full-out range war a long time before. Cooler heads prevailed when a Baxter boy married a Pomelos girl. According to local lore, that settled things down.”

“So?”

“That bloodline didn’t survive the collapse. The heirs thinned out, and the last Baxter occupying the homestead was a bad diabetic. He passed away about nine months after the insulin ran out. Both sides were probably too busy just trying to put food on the table for a while afterward. Now that things have recovered a bit, the age old dispute has again reared its ugly head.”

“Why don’t they just split the land and be done with it?”

“The only year-round water in that area flows through the property in question and forks to feed both spreads. The creek shifts its course from time to time, and there’s no good place to draw a line in the sand. The original solution treated the place kind of like the Vatican in Rome. It was neutral ground with an understanding that the water would always flow freely to both sides.”

Bishop shrugged, “So why not just keep it that way? Why escalate now?”

“Because the Alliance is making it known that new rules concerning property ownership are coming down the pike. There have been all sorts of rumors and gossip, and somebody got the idea that possession was going to be a big part of the new law.”

“Unintended consequences,” Bishop mumbled sarcastically. “Who would have thought?”

“Normally, I’d bring in some extra deputies, plop them down right in the middle, and pretend we were a United Nations peacekeeping force. Problem is, about half of my men in that area are decedents of one clan or the other. Trust in authority has eroded, and things have degraded to the point where a badge doesn’t mean much. That’s why I’m on your front porch interrupting your family time.”

Bishop nodded, now understanding the sheriff’s predicament. “So you need to keep them from becoming the Hatfields and McCoys until the new rules are officially announced. I get it, but we’re only three men. I’m not sure how effective we would be.”

Watts shook his head, “I didn’t come here with a plan, only with a need. I was hoping you and your boys could come up with something… and do so quickly. If somebody gets killed up there, all hell will break loose. The whole county could be pulled in, folks aligning with one side or the other. We need to keep them separated until the government can set up the new law and a system to handle disputes. If I knew how to do it, I wouldn’t be troubling you.”

“My wife is a wizard at this sort of thing,” Bishop stated. “Come on in. Let me get you a cup of coffee, and let’s have a quick skull session. Maybe she can hatch a plot.”

“I was hoping you’d say that, sir. I saw what she did to end that dispute over the salt down south. I’m trying to nip this one in the bud before it turns into a running fight like what you encountered by the border. By the way, that’s some lady you’ve got there.”

“She has her days,” Bishop smiled.

Bishop opened the door for the sheriff, calling out, “Honey, I’m home. I found a stray emergency on the way from the office, and I couldn’t help but bring it back to the house. Come see.”

The expression on Watt’s face indicated he didn’t get the cornball humor. Terri did.

From the kitchen, “Oh honey, not another one. We can’t rescue every lost dog, cat, and emergency in the neighborhood,” she sighed. “But I do have a few minutes now that Hunter is busy. Bring it on in here. Let me see it.”

The two men stepped toward the back of the home, finding Hunter in a highchair, practically all of his face covered by some green substance. Seeing his dad, the boy’s smile lit up the room.

Terri put down the canning jar of whatever emerald-colored, mystery vegetable she was serving and then set a couple of crackers on the chair’s tray. She had to use a towel before offering the sheriff her hand.

“Honey, this looks like a law enforcement officer, not a stray emergency,” she grinned. Then to Watts, using her more serious tone, she offered, “Coffee, Sheriff?”

“That would be wonderful, ma’am. Black, please.”

It took another 15 minutes for the lawman to rehash the situation. Terri had a lot more questions than Bishop, and Hunter wanted to participate in the conversation.

At one point, the lad offered his father a bite of green-goo-coated cracker. Watts winched when Bishop bent and accepted the nibble. The tough old lawman actually choked on a swallow of coffee when Bishop smacked his lips and said, “More!”

“Moh-ah!” the kid commanded his mother, and then let loose with a huge, wet burp. Everyone but the sheriff thought it was hilarious.

Right when it seemed Watts was beginning to regret his visit, Terri’s demeanor became somber. “This is easy,” she stated matter-of-factly. “We need some squatters.”

“Ma’am?” Watts replied, his brow wrinkling in puzzlement.

“Both sides of the feud need someone or something that is a bigger, common threat. We have to give them something to fear and hate more than the opposing ranch. A group of squatters moving onto the property would do just that. Basic stuff, guys. Do you both need more coffee to get those brains working at full speed?”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend,” Bishop mumbled, his gaze clouding over while his mind sped to an empty point of time and space.

“But wouldn’t that lead to more violence?” Watts asked, always the skeptic.

“Perhaps,” Terri replied. “From what you’re saying, in the long term there’s little doubt of things escalating to a full-out brawl. That being said, you only need to keep them apart until the Alliance implements the new rules. That should be in the next few days.”

“And where would I find these squatters?”

Bishop shook his head and sighed in with reluctant acceptance. “
They
, sir, would be my team and me. Here we go again.”

Terri watched as the short parade of one Army truck and two squad cars pulled into the empty lot. Butter and Grim were already there, the younger contractor balancing Hunter on his shoulders, pretending to be a cowboy in search of the Grim-Indian.

Her son’s constant cackling, intermixed with short bursts of howling laughter, was a therapy Terri badly needed about then.

There had been such a rush getting Bishop and his men ready. Team members had to be located and called in. General Owens had to be tracked down, briefed on the situation and convinced to sign orders. Everything including clothing, food, and transportation had to be secured, requisitioned and packed.

Before she knew it, Bishop was jumping in a police car with Sheriff Watts and heading to Fort Hood. It all happened so fast.

Now she waited, dreading the conversation she needed to have with her husband. She hated doing this right before he was leaving on a dangerous mission. She’d started to cover the topic a dozen times in the last few days, but had been stopped by a precious moment that she didn’t want to spoil.

And then he was gone.

The three vehicles rolled to a stop, Butter and Grim returning her child with disappointed expressions. “Sorry, Miss Terri,” Butter said. “We have to unload.”

She strolled over to the sheriff’s car, watching as Bishop climbed out of the passenger door. “I always knew seeing you in a police car was in my future. Mom tried to warn me,” she teased.

“Your mom liked me,” Bishop countered, walking up to hug his wife and son. After the greeting, he continued with a wink and said, “Come here often, gorgeous?”

“Seriously, Bishop, I need to talk to you. It’s important, and, well, we need to discuss it before you leave.”

Realizing the timing of his humor was off yet again, he became subdued. “Sure, what’s wrong?”

“Come on,” Terri motioned with her head, “Let’s take a walk.”

She deposited Hunter in the stroller and kissed the now-sleepy child’s forehead. Bishop did the same, taking a moment to enjoy his son’s round face peeking out from under his blankets. “I love you, little guy. Daddy will see you in a few days.”

After they were well away from the hustle and commotion by the trucks, she stopped and faced him. “I know Diana is going to ask me about being Chase’s liaison. Nick hinted about it yesterday like he was trying to feel me out. I wanted to talk to you about it, but thought I had more time before you’d be leaving.”

Bishop stayed neutral, “I know. I’ve been bouncing it around the last few days. I think my answer might surprise you.”

“Oh?”

“I think you should accept the position. Now, don’t misunderstand. I would be completely wary of that ass-hat. I’d watch his every move and always have my pistol ready to shoot off his over-achieving balls. But… there’s an old proverb that sums this situation up about as well as any words that come to mind; keep your friends close, your enemies closer.”