Jernigan's War (13 page)

It was dark when Dix pulled out into the current allowing his boat to drift with the current. He was desperately trying to think
of a way to sink the ship since it was now drifting without power and there wasn’t a tug in sight to save it. By now the fire was an inferno; he took his time and shot every one he could see on deck. He reloaded four times before they figured out where he was. He finally fired up his boat and disappeared into the night. He idled the boat’s engine and watched as the fire soon got completely out of control, apparently there was aviation fuel below deck. Shortly thereafter a tremendous explosion rocked the vessel. The shock wave hit Dix and almost knocked him out of the boat. It never occurred to him that the boat contained munitions. He thought to himself, “the next time you light one up, RUN.” The bottom was blown out of the ship and it sank across the channel blocking all access to the port from the South. He chuckled to himself, fired up the boat and headed back to the catamaran. He hated to have used up five gallons of gas, but that was absolutely spectacular!

The sun was coming up when he got back to the catamaran. The pups were glad to see him as he swung around behind the catamaran and tied the fishing boat off to it. He climbed on board the catamaran, fired up the engine and headed back out into the main river. He traveled all day without incident and found another cut off the main river and anchored up for the night. He opened a big can of beans and cooked some more rice. He and the dogs finished off the meal and sacked out for the night. As he lay in his bunk he couldn’t help ponder on his life and how everything about him changed. Fifteen years earlier his problems were house notes and school tuition; and it seemed that the weight of the world was on his shoulders. 12 years ago his previous worries were overshadowed by the failing health of his parents and in-laws, and the weight of the world was still on his shoulders. 10 years ago he lost a job and shortly thereafter a hurricane hit, once again the world was on his shoulders. Last year, the candidate fielded by the Communist Party in the United States, was elected President and the economy collapsed shortly thereafter. In the present his entire family was murdered, he had
eagerly taken countless lives and relished it. He had sunk a ship and blocked one of the largest river systems in the world to navigation. Now he was laying alone in a bunk, in an old boat, in the middle of nowhere, trying to stay alive with no hope of any type of future and as usual, the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders. His goal for tomorrow was to get as far north as he could and attempt to go up the Big Black River.

CHAPTER 13

HOME ON THE RANGE

“I
don’t want to wear out my welcome, it’s probably time that I hit the road,” Porter told Charlie after a week of resting up.

Sandy and Ally hopped up, “Don’t you mean we hit the road?”

Bonnie piped up, “Nonsense, we’ll let you know when you’ve worn out your welcome.”

“Besides,” Charlie said, “You haven’t paid for that yearling yet. I figure it will take you at least until next spring before you work off that debt. Winter is fixing to come on with a vengeance and that is no time to be traveling. And there is something you ought to know,” Charlie told him solemnly, “War has broken out, the Chinese have landed at Houston and New Orleans, you couldn’t make it to Louisiana if your life depended on it right now. From what I hear on the short wave, patriots are forming a resistance and our military at Fort Hood are mobilizing.”

Porter piped up, “My grandfather might need me, I need to try and get to him.”

“From what you’ve told me, your grandfather wanted you to be a man, that’s why you saved those two girls. You can’t help
your grandfather by running headlong into a battlefield. From what I can tell those two girls aren’t staying here without you; like it or not, you’ve got a family that you are responsible for. This country is full of mean, desperate people. We Texans have taken care of a lot of them but the country is still full of them. Stay here until spring. Your grandfather is holed up somewhere, you said yourself he was armed and had dogs and a farm. You and I both know that you and he are cut from the same mold, look how good you’ve survived, and he is a lot more savvy and experienced than you.”

Porter remembered, “He said he was an airborne ranger in Vietnam, I know he had an M-16 like your rifle, but it shot 5.56 ammo.”

“I tell you what Porter, I’ll get on my ham short wave radio tonight and see if we can reach someone near him that can get a message to him. I assure you if he was an airborne ranger, the people attacking him are in more danger than he is. You’re looking at a former ranger from Vietnam, the only Jones I knew was a guy they called Coony.”

“That’s him, they called him Coony because he was a Cajun from south Louisiana.”

Charlie grinned from ear to ear, “It’s a small world, he saved my life, I promise you son, you don’t have to worry about him. He was the only man I know who could shoot a quarter out of the air with an M16 shot from the waist. He was my Sergeant for two years and went on dozens of drops into the jungle with me and lived to talk about it. It’s settled, if you will stay here until spring, I’ll personally go with you to find him. You are part of this family, welcome son.”

John told Porter, “You have no idea the respect my dad has for your grandfather, this will be the first fall and winter in my lifetime that your grandfather hasn’t come out here to hunt with us. Come on, I’m getting ready to relieve my brother on the North stand, it will take me most of the day to get there so I’ve got to go. I want you to help me catch my mule so I can show you how to saddle her up. I also want to introduce you to your mule or the
gelding, I recommend the mules; they’re a lot more reliable and durable, but that’s up to you.”

They used a bucket with a little crushed corn in it to entice the animals over to the barn door. John gave them some loose ears of corn as a treat. “Hook that lead on his halter, Porter and lead her into the barn. She’ll stand still because she is accustomed to being ridden almost every day. Your mount will have to be tied to that post until he gets accustomed to you. Take that halter off and put on her bridle and bit.” After Porter put on the bridle he grabbed a saddle blanket and put it across her back. Next he picked up the saddle. It was heavier than he expected and he wasn’t sure he could throw over the mule’s back. He pulled the stirrup over the top of the saddle and heaved it over his head and over the back of the mule. Had the mule moved, it would have landed on the ground. The mule just stood there, she didn’t seem to care one way or the other.

John clapped him on the shoulder, “Great job, I was wondering if you could figure it out on your own.” From there they cinched the saddle up and put the leather strap across her chest. This was fleece lined, John explained that for some reason the strap seemed to chafe her without the fleece. Next he put on some saddle bags. Porter ran to the Rokon and got the jug of jerky, “I’ve got something you can chew on while you ride.”

“Thanks Porter, I’ll sure take you up on that, now let’s go pick out your ride.” Porter chose the last mule and gave him an ear of corn; he figured it would be a good idea to get on his good side. This mule knew the ropes, he looked as old as the hills and smelled terrible. He nuzzled Porter, almost knocking him down. They took the jerky to the house and filled up a canvas bag for John to carry with him. Porter watched from the porch as John rode out of sight heading north.

That night just as he promised, Charlie made contact with a ham operator near Jonesville, LA. They knew Coony Jones and
verified that he was alive and well. They promised to get word to him about the fate of his son and family and that Porter was alive and safe with his friend Charlie Cross. They agreed to have Coony radio back in several days or to have a message for them then. Porter was relieved to know his grandfather was ok and agreed to help on the ranch unless his grandfather told him otherwise.

His mule’s name was Dollar and would come when Porter called his name. An ear of corn or a biscuit helped reinforce the action and ultimately the bond. Dollar would even come into the barn without being led and allowed Porter to saddle him up with no problems. Dollar let Porter and Sandy ride double around the ranch house. Once Ally saw them she had to ride also. Porter figured she was family too, so he gladly gave her rides. Porter ask Mr. Charlie how come the mule was named Dollar. ”Well you see, I bought a string of mules for my guide business 20 years ago. He was just a colt who’s mother up and died. They threw him in for a dollar. I had a mare that had just lost a week old colt and she adopted him. Sometimes they won’t accept a strange colt, but she did, so that is how we came to have Ole Dollar.”

Most of the days were sent performing chores. Porter found he could split and tote wood. The firewood was harvested from along the rivers and streams on the property. Most of the ranch was semi-arid. It took many thousands of acres to support a small herd. Antelope abounded on the high ground and deer thrived in the river and creek valleys. The windmill powered pumps watered cattle and wildlife alike. Wild hogs wallowed in the mud holes around the water tanks. It was the ideal way of life.

CHAPTER 14

THE JOURNEY CONTINUES

T
he next day was pretty much uneventful; Dix started the day with coffee again and made more pancakes. He used honey for syrup and felt a little better after eating. He allowed the pups one each and kept an eye out for game. There weren’t many deer or squirrels left after several months of hungry people hunting everything that moved. Occasionally he saw people on shore fishing. Once some people beckoned to him to stop, but he couldn’t take the chance. He could hear his mother’s voice in his head saying, “We need to check on Sister.” The little Yanmar diesel ran on without fail. It was burning about ten gallons a day. He had more than enough fuel to make it up the river and to return if necessary. When running downstream his fuel use was almost nonexistent. All he had to do was keep enough power on to position the boat in the current.

He didn’t make it all the way to the Big Black that day or the next two; but he did make it north of Natchez on the third day and was able to get into the old river just north of town. He knew that there were camps on the lake, but the river was very
high and he knew that most of the camps would be abandoned. He motored in and found an old man running trot lines. The old man looked up surprised to see someone in a boat. He asked, “Want to buy some fish?”

“Whatcha got?”

The old man answered, “I’ve got about 30 river cat, I can’t eat em all and there ain’t no place to freeze em.”

Dix’s eyes narrowed, “I’ve got a hundred dollar bill in my pocket for a mess.”

The old man looked up and smiled, “I still got some toilet paper, what I need are bullets.”

Dix looked at the .22 rifle lying across the boat seat and the .22 pistol on his belt. “How about I give you five bullets a fish? I could use five.”

“Deal,” the old man agreed. They made the exchange and talked for a minute.

“How have you survived this long, old man?”

The old man slyly grinned, “I live in one of the camps up at the Old River boat landing, it’s about 20 feet in the air and I can pull up my stairs. The river has been up almost the whole time and my place is junky enough to ignore.” Dix counted out 25 bullets and took the fish.

The old man offered, “I’ll skin and clean them for ten more bullets.” Dix smiled, “That’s a Deal.”

Dix didn’t need to waste the ammo on the fish, but he needed a friend if he made it back this way. Dix let him know, “The Chinese are landing in New Orleans; you might spread the word to everyone around that a battle is coming, and this battle will be just as bad as or worse than what’s already happened. The Chinese are bringing bombs. By the way, my name is Dix Jernigan; I don’t believe I caught yours?”

“I’m Bob Boyer most people call me Beagle Boyer. I’ve spent my whole life fishing and selling fish around this country, you any kin to Eugene Jernigan?”