Meanwhile, Back at the Ranch

"Are your girl cousins as pretty as you are?"

"Pretty much. There are a lot of good looking Chickahominy women. You'll see when we go there. You can look, but don't touch. If you mess with one that's somebody else's, we'll have to burn you at the stake."

"You're kidding, aren't you?"

"As long as you're on your best behavior you won't even have to wonder whether I am or not."

"Are they all as irresistible as you are?" I kissed her lightly on the lips, which quickly progressed into something more interesting, until we were wrapped up together and pounding away like a pair of rabbits. Except that we lasted longer. I felt like asking whether they were all as good in the sack as she was, but that would have been indelicate, and could have undermined the social niceties of meeting her family, which I would have to do before long. And then there was the practical aspect: trying to keep up with another one or two like Suzy would surely kill me.

Chapter nine

Suzy was on the phone, talking with one librarian after another, still trying to get a handle on Clarence Hempstead. The difficulty was that she knew about when he was in Brooklyn, and even where in Brooklyn the Monitor was assembled, but she didn't know where he had been in Virginia before the move to Brooklyn, or where he had gone to in Virginia after leaving Brooklyn. She was displaying more patience in her search than I could have managed, perhaps because she was a professional historian, or perhaps because of her Indian philosophy of "It is what it is." Meanwhile, Henry and Fern were keeping me occupied.

Fern parked the Jeep on a little hill, where they could see it no matter where they wandered off to. They were just strolling, stretching their legs, exclaiming over small plants they found struggling to grow in the arid landscape. They walked along a small stream, which widened into a pool of crystal clear water. It looked too good to pass up. "Feel like a skinny dip?" asked Fern.

"Looks just beautiful," Henry observed. "How's the temperature?"

Fern put a hand in. "Feels just right to me. Come on." She led the way to a large rock outcropping, rounded off and sanded smooth by eons of sandstorms. They laid their clothes out carefully, and stepped off the edge to plunge feet first into the water. They were on the outside of a bend, where the water had carved the bottom out, making the depth at that spot about nine feet. As they surfaced and swam toward the opposite bank, they were soon able to stand on the gravelly bottom in water about chest-deep. The sun glistened on Fern's light skin, and her breasts floated as if they had a life of their own. Fern put on a mock-serious frown and asked, "Why don't you ever look at my face?"

"I'll do that later," replied Henry. He walked a few feet closer to the bank, where the water was slightly shallower, and pulled Fern along with him, finally kneeling down in a rifleman position and putting both his hands on her waist to lift her onto his knee. This raised her up to where he could kiss her, and soon they were wrapped in a passionate embrace. Henry broke the kiss and said, "I'll race you back to the big rock. Ready?"

Fern looked confused, but game. "You're on," she said, and slipped down into the water. "Ready?"

"Let's go," answered Henry. Fern began a graceful crawl stroke, but Henry gave her a head start, then followed her doing a breast stroke that gave him a perfect view of her retreating legs and other things. Reaching the rock, Fern laid one arm on it and turned just in time to see Henry take a big breath and dive down toward her feet. On his way back up he grabbed her waist and gave a hard kick to propel them up, shooting almost out of the water. He deftly set her on the rock in a sitting position, after which he dove again and then spurted up high enough to get both hands on the rock and pull himself up to sit beside Fern.

"Hey, that was pretty cool," she commented. The water their bodies had splashed onto the rock made it cool enough to sit on comfortably, and they began to splash more water onto it with their hands to wet a place where they could lie down. Fern quickly discovered the comfort of lying on top of Henry, and further exploration disclosed that the cool water had reduced his manhood to no more than a little boyhood. "Oh, that's awful," she said, "but I bet if I warm it up it will grow a little." She pivoted around and brought her knees to rest on Henry's shoulders, as she gently smothered him with kisses to make him all better. All conversation stopped until she suddenly lifted her head to exclaim, "Oh, that's wonderful. Henry, you're simply huge!" Then she was all knees and elbows, scrambling around until she settled down for a triumphant saddle bronc ride. "Ye-haw!"

"Ride 'im, cowgirl!" commanded Henry. And she did.

For some reason, even in my air conditioned apartment, every time I got Fern involved in the scene, I worked up a sweat. So I got up and went to the kitchen for a cold beer. "Hey, historian, want a beer?"

"Sounds great," came back from the far end of the living room, where Suzy was slouched on the couch, riffling through pages and pages of the notes she had taken in the previous twenty-four hours. As I handed her the cold beer she tipped her face up to me and gave me a big kiss. "Aren't you sweet to wait on me like this. I guess you really do love me." Another kiss. "And I love you back."

"Do I get a progress report?"

"Well, I've got enough information to give me a clue to his shipyard location. It's either a hot clue or a false clue, and the only way we can find out which is to go there and poke around.

"What kind of a place will we be poking in?"

"The Chickahominy Wildlife Management Area, north of the James River. Specifically, there's a little stream there called Morris Creek that I want to look over. It was sort of a desolate place, from what I can figure out, and it may be still. Probably swampy with lots of mosquitoes, although there could be a WalMart there now, for all I know.. What I'm thinking is that Hempstead might have set up a shipyard there, away from prying eyes. The problem with Morris Creek is that it's shallow and muddy. To get a good sized vessel out of there he would have had to drag it through the mud until he got to deep enough water to float it free. And to do that he would have set up a winch on the opposite shore. So what I want to do is explore casually in a small boat to see if we can find any signs of any kind of an old winch or windlass on the banks of Morris Creek."

"So you want to go in there with a very shallow draft boat, like a bass boat, with a big outboard motor to get away in a hurry and small trolling motors fore and aft to maneuver in close to shore in shallow water."

"I guess so. I figured we'd get down there and see what kind of boat we can borrow or hire. What are you thinking about?"

"More like taking our own boat in there. I had a friend who moved from New England to Virginia, and he got a house on the water and had a boat. He told me about cottonmouth moccasins, poisonous snakes that lie on the bottom with their white mouths open waiting for something tasty to come by."

"That's why we weren't allowed to go swimming in any of the creeks or rivers. There was a public pool next to our school, and we went there.

"Do you know if there's a public launching ramp near there?"

"No, but we can find out when we get there. Must be one somewhere in the area. Are you thinking of buying a boat to go exploring with? What would you tow it with?"

"Well, I had been thinking for a while about getting a boat and an SUV, so I could take a break from my writing now and then and take off for the Adirondacks or wherever. Then I shelved the idea when I hit that slump, but now the words are spouting out of my fingertips better than ever, so I could get back into the SUV/trailer/boat/outboard dream again."

"But where would you keep it?"

"Oh, there are storage yards where they keep stuff like that for you, locked up behind a big wall, and a lot of them have walk-in lockers you can rent too, so your stuff can be kept all straightened out, not just thrown in a heap in the back of the SUV. Just like everything else in an urban setting, it's all there if you've got the money to pay for it."

"And where would we get that?"

"Ever wonder why paperback novels cost so much? It's so authors can afford to live well and buy expensive toys and attract beautiful women with cute round asses and bit tits."

"Wait a minute. You're rich?"

"Oh, let's say comfortable. Rich is a relative thing. No matter what you've got or how much of it, there's always somebody with more and somebody with less. Wealth doesn't mean a whole lot to me. Security does, and I've tried to make sure that when I retire I won't have to live like a pauper, but aside from that, and having a comfortable place to live, and being able to eat regularly, what's so important about money?"

"So you mean to tell me I'm shacking up with a wealthy man? I guess you do. This is astounding. I never thought of you that way. Wow. That's pretty neat!"

"Well, don't get carried away with this. Put it in perspective. I can afford to equip our expedition with a boat, at least for a start. But I'm not like Bill Gates. One SUV and one boat I can afford. But if I have to get another boat or another SUV the whole search might get delayed until I can get another book or two out there in the shops, to pump some more royalties in. So we'd better make sure we know what we're doing before I start signing any big checks."

"Maybe we ought to go there and get a look at the place before we make a big commitment. You go back to your keyboard and I'll get back onto the research. And stop looking so damned sexy for a while, so I don't get distracted so often." I must have looked hurt, because she started to walk away from me, looked back, and then came back and gave me a kiss. "There. That's to hold you till suppertime. Get to work."

Chapter ten

Henry looked around while he was getting dressed. Their idyllic swimming hole was like an unexpected jewel out here in the middle of the desert. But that wasn't all that was unexpected. As he bent over to pull his leans up, he caught something in his peripheral vision, something moving by the front of Fern's Jeep. He said nothing until Fern finished pulling her boots on and turned to him. "Fern, look at my face and don't look away right now. I thought I saw something or somebody moving up by where we left the Jeep. See if you can see anything up there, without appearing to look that way. Maybe as you're combing your hair, moving your head around different ways."

"Any idea who it was?"

"No. I'm not even sure it was a person. Could have been a curious coyote or something like that. But it wasn't something tiny, like a Gila Monster or a Chukwalla because from this distance they wouldn't have attracted my attention."

"Okay. Lean over here and give me a kiss while I check my pistol. Mmmm, that was good. Now I'll comb while you walk over behind that rock to take a leak, but check your gun while you're over there with your back turned." Five minutes later they were up and walking. "I couldn't see anything," Fern said, "but if there was somebody there checking up on us, all he'd have to do is walk down the far slope and he'd be hidden from us. Instead of walking right up to the Jeep, let's go off to the left and circle around the flank of the hill, and check for tracks."

The afternoon sun was low enough in the sky to provide good definition of tracks. "Here's our answer," commented Henry, "That looks more to me like a pickup than a Jeep. It's wider and longer. It parked over there, and somebody got out on the driver's side and walked up to the Jeep. Then he walked back and drove away. No other tracks, and none on the passenger side, so it was just one guy."

"Okay, let's be real careful as we get up by the Jeep. I don't want to mess up the tracks up there before we can figure this out. Let's start at the rear. Those are our tracks. See, there's a chip out of the heel of your right boot. Over there is where you got out of the Jeep, and you walked around to the rear here. I got out and joined you, and then we walked down the hill. See?"

"Look, Fern, the tracks of the guy from the pickup come up and go around in the front. He stood there, looking down toward the creek. That must be where he was when I saw him. There's no sign that he opened the hood. In fact, when he turned he faced around the other way, with his back to the Jeep.. Look over there. He was lying down. Propped his elbows where those little round marks are. Probably using binoculars to spy on what we were doing with our clothes off. Horny bastard."

"We probably put on a pretty good show for him. And when it comes to horny, you should talk. Did he come around on the driver's side?"

"Well, yeah, your footprints from getting out of the car are all messed up. What was he doing here?"

"Henry, back away. I see what he was doing. He was lying down on the ground to reach under the Jeep, like putting a bomb under it. Get away from it. Let's get into that little grove of trees and think this over. Quick!"

The trees offered some shade while they tried to figure out their next move. The surrounding hills isolated them from the cell phone towers, so they couldn't call anybody. "I called my cousin Bob before we left town, and told him about where we were going. He knows this area. We used to come out here on horseback when we were kids. If we're not back by sundown he'll come looking for us. And he'll probably know what to do to check the Jeep."

"Is Bob a bomb expert?"

"Bob is a deputy sheriff, and when it's time to send a deputy away to a school for something technical, he usually gets picked because he's a lot smarter about that stuff than the rest of the deputies. Now if it had to do with sniper rifles, Sheriff would send Lenny. He's the rifle expert, and he's the Sheriff's armorer. Want to kill somebody a quarter mile away? Call Lenny and stand back. He rarely needs a second shot. But if it was something about subduing a suspect up close with bare hands, that'd be Bubba. Bubba's big and strong, and he looks stupid. Thing is, he's quick as lightning on his feet, and he's just as quick mentally. If you were holding a gun on him, he'd take it away from you and you'd be on your back wondering what happened. He knows all those foreign sounding ways to fight, and he actually practices looking dumb, practices in front of a mirror. Only guy I ever knew who'd do that. Y'see, I know all those guys. We were all in school together. We grew up together from the time we could walk. They'd all drop everything to help me out. There may be more than one of them coming out to find us. You watch."

"Next thing you'll tell me is that the Sheriff is your father."

"No. My father's dead. Sheriff and my father grew up together, went into the Army together, went hunting together, were very close. Sheriff is my Godfather."

The sun had set and it was getting dark. Off in the distance the sound of an engine could be heard, first very faint and then gradually louder. "Look over that way. There's a ridge there that they have to come over, and we may see headlights for a few seconds, as they come over the top and then start back down on this side." Henry stood up to get a better view, and sure enough, here came not only headlights but red and blue flashers. As that truck headed down, another one showed up behind it, and then a third.

"Why use the flashers where there's no traffic?" asked Henry.

"That's just to show us that they're good guys coming to rescue us, so we don't hide from them or shoot at them."

"I wish we could turn on the Jeep's headlights to show them where we are."

"That's all right. They'll know about where I'd park, and we can get off a shot when they get close enough."

"A shot?"

"Yeah, it's a good way to signal. Just shoot up in the air. I'll show you when they get over here. Let's walk out into the open a little bit." The three vehicles were all visible now, sweeping a broad arc below before starting up the slope. Fern had her Glock out, and waited until she had a good head-on view of the lead truck. Then she aimed straight upward and fired. The sound echoed, and the muzzle flash was visible for a foot or two from the muzzle. Instantly the lead truck engine went silent and its lights went out, followed shortly by the other two. They were watching and listening. Fern fired another shot and then holstered the Glock. A spotlight stabbed out into the darkness, fluttered around a bit, and finally illuminated Fern and Henry. Then the three engines roared to life, headlights came on, and the three trucks converged on their grove.

Doors opened and men in khaki uniforms spilled out. A tall, dark-haired man came up first and gave Fern a hug. "You all right? Didn't fall and break anything, did you?"

"No, Bobby, I'm fine. Hey, Bubba, Lenny. Oh hi, Sheriff. Looks as if we've got a major crime sweep here."

The Sheriff, fifty-something, beefy but not blubbery, stepped up and the others fell back respectfully. "What's goin' on here, Fern? Jeep give out on you? What can we do for you?" He turned his head just enough to give Henry a good look up and down, and stuck out his hand. "I'm Sheriff Johnson. And you are?"

"Howdy, Sheriff. Name's Henry Grant. Fern and I teamed up in a gunfight at her place a few days back, and she's been showing me some of the local sights."

"Oh, you must be the 357 man. I looked over the bodies of the Baker brothers, the one Fern got with her nine and the one you rearranged with the revolver. Pretty good shooting by both of you, by the way. One shot kill for you, Fern. Why'd you take the head shot?"

"He was standing there, hardly moving, with his back toward me. I thought about his back, but I wasn't sure how the nine would do if it hit a shoulder blade, so I figured I'd better go for a sure thing. Rested solid on the bar, perfect sight picture, let the gun do the rest."

"That's my girl. When Doc told me that boy'd taken a nine to the head, we all knew who fired it and we were very proud of you. Now what's your problem here?"

Fern carried most of the narrative as they explained why they thought the Jeep could have a bomb in it, probably under the driver's seat.

The Sheriff looked at Lenny and got a thoughtful expression on his face. "Tell you what I'd like to try. I'd like to leave the Jeep right there, bomb and all, as bait. Three trucks came out of town, and three will go back in. Dark as it is, that's all that our bomber will see. He won't have heard anything go boom so he'll know he didn't blow you up. He may figure that we'd go out in daylight to bring the jeep in and look at his bomb, so I'd like to give him a chance to get here first and take it back.

"Lenny, Bob, Bubba, here's what I'd like you to do: Set up a little overnight bivouac here in this little grove. Bring the portable spotlight and the power pack out of the truck, and put it here. Lenny, you get out your good rifle and your shooting mat, and set up over there where you have a good view of the Jeep and you can command this whole slope. Let him get the bomb out of there, but don't let him get close to any of you. I'd suggest you let him get halfway to his truck and shoot him in the leg. Both legs if you have to. Disabling his truck with a shot or two would be a good idea, too. Don't say a single word to this guy. He'll yell about the bomb, how he'll kill you all with it, and you just act as if you can't even hear him. If he shoots at you, duck down so he can't hit you. About the time the sun gets hot, he'll get tired of this game and we can deal with him. I'll have Hal come out here along toward eight in the morning in number six, the one you tore the muffler off of in that lumber yard ruckus, Bubba. He can drive right up here to your little forest and you start loading your stuff into it. But I'll come up in my SUV and park over the ridge there. He'll never hear me over the noise of number six. I'll walk up right over there, with the trees blocking his view of me. When I get up to the trees we'll powwow. I want this guy alive, I don't want anybody to get hurt, and I don't want Fern's Jeep damaged. Lenny, maybe you'd better shoot him in the ankles so you don't nick a femoral artery and have him bleed out before we can interview him. Okay, get to it. Bubba, you're in charge.