It Ain't Paranoia if... Ch. 04

"Now, here I am, surrounded by good friends and good people, and I'm at peace with the past.

"Your history isn't nearly as checkered as mine. You weren't the one who made the mistakes, like I did. You were wronged by the people you cared about the most, while you were trying to be the father and husband they wanted.

"The problem is, they were deceived and betrayed by the same man you were!

"Without doubt, you got retribution - if not revenge - on the perpetrator, and he languishes in prison and probably always will. That means he's out of the equation, unless you want to pay someone inside to torture him.

"The factors still in the equation are named Dos, Grace, and Kaitlyn. It's easy to see how you feel about your kids, and that you've forgiven them -- which, by the way, is the right thing to do!

"What about Kaitlyn? 'Se cagan el palo' as they say -- 'she shit the stick'. She caused you grief and the kids grief. Do you need retribution? Revenge? Or has four years of her punishing herself been enough?

"If you think it's all a lie, and she's not to be trusted, that is a pretty easy decision, isn't it?

"But If you believe what she says now; if you believe her actions back up her words; you have a more difficult decision to make, and a lot of baggage to unload."

I stood up, shot the bird at Coyote and Chap, and turned toward Toro and Gato: "Got anything to add?"

They threw their hands up and shook their heads; as if afraid I'd toss them a bird too. "Well, fuck all of you! I'm going to check in with Claude."

As I walked away, I heard Gato rather loudly observe, "Boy's a pussy! Make him face reality and he runs off and hides!"

***

Claude was on the phone with someone, and Clay was online with someone else. I caught their attention and held my palms up, meaning "Got anything?"

They both shook their heads, and then Claude whispered, "I think we're good. Go take your family somewhere and have some fun. We'll have a team trail you, just in case."

I walked back to the jackals and asked, "Anything going on around here, Marfa, or in Alpine? I'm thinking about taking the kids for a fountain shake at the drug store, and then doing something fun."

Doc smiled: "I know of something they would enjoy, but you'll have to let us tag along. We want a shake, and we want to see the show too."

"Alright, we'll take the Denali XL but tell Claude where we're going; he wants to send a team, 'Just in case."

The kids were just waking up, but the idea of a shake or sundae got them up and about quickly.

Their mother had already showered and was standing in her closet looking at the clothes she had available when I walked in. The sight of Kaitlyn in a matching rose-colored bra and panty set brought me to a sudden halt just inside the door. Admittedly, I leered -- I mean, who wouldn't?

She didn't seem to know I was there, so I could leer and lust in secret. I'd recently seen her naked, of course, and I knew her body was perfection incarnate. Seeing her in silhouette was a treat of a different flavor.

She stood on tiptoes and reached for something on the rack. I watched the gastrocnemius muscles flex in those shapely calves, the hamstrings tense, the quadriceps bunch up, and the roundest, tightest gluteus maximus I'd ever seen contract under those bikini panties. Five-foot six inches, one hundred thirty pounds of soft curves and muscles, with legs just a little longer than expected, crowned by that head of naturally wavy honey-blonde hair.

Loving her nearly killed me five years ago, but I had to admit: if I were allowed to sculpt the perfect woman, she would look very much like Kaitlyn.

She removed a floral dress from the bar, held it in front of her, looked it over carefully, held it against herself, and looked at herself in the mirror built into the back wall of the closet. I watched her toss her hair and smile in approval, but my eyes were irresistibly drawn to the curvaceous body below.

Only the bra strap marred the form of her back, which narrowed below the rib cage to a narrow waist that flared at the hips. The panties rode low, barely touching the top of her hipbones. Cut high on the sides, they made her legs look even longer, and the light elastic tucked the bottoms just where the round cheeks of her luscious ass turned into those gorgeous legs in back.

My eyes traveled down to those dainty ankles, and then back up, drinking in the sight of what could surely be a SI swimsuit model! When my eyes finally reached her head, I saw sparkling green eyes looking back at me through the mirror. "So, do you think this little dress will be okay for whatever you have planned this afternoon, Rob?" she asked with an impish grin.

Words betrayed me; that could have been because the blood had rushed from my head to my pelvic region. I stood there staring, trying to formulate a response to her simple question. Her grin grew; she tossed her head, rolled her eyes, and turned to face me. With the dress covering her, she asked again, with a teasing lilt. "Rob, do you think this little dress will be okay for today? If you don't like it, I can try on something else on for you."

It was far too late to rearrange my swollen cock, but I tried anyway; my effort only made her grin grow wider, fully exposing her perfectly straight white teeth.

"Rob?" she inquired knowingly.

With a deep sigh, I managed, "That dress will be just fine, Kaitlyn. Can you be ready in fifteen minutes?"

"I'll be ready in ten!" she announced brightly. Then she paused, held the dress to the side, and inquired, "Unless you have something else in mind..."

I turned and fled, willing my hard cock to diminish before I reached the others, but having to stop at the bathroom and pee to accomplish that feat.

The kids were in the third seat, Doc was in the front passenger seat, and I was driving the Yukon Denali XL that was idling in the driveway when Princess Kaitlyn finally deigned to join us fifteen minutes later. The green floral dress she had modeled in the closet, however, was not what she had on.

The off-the-shoulders dress she was wearing was white with roses embroidered randomly; it fit loosely, and stopped just below mid-thigh.

I suppose on most women it would be considered somewhat modest, but on Kaitlyn, it was barely decent. Although loosely, it conformed to her body when she moved, molding itself to her flat little belly and hips as she walked, hanging when she stood. With the top running from just below one shoulder to just below the other, her exquisite shoulders and neck were on display and the elastic across her chest exposed hillocks that only hinted at the swelling breasts filing the material below.

Her gorgeous legs were exposed to a point five or six inches above her knees and the open-toe sandals had a strap around the ankle. Most disturbing, however, was the way the material clung to that magnificent ass when you saw her from the side or back.

With all the pulchritude on display, it was hard to focus on the beautiful face and the crown of messy honey-colored hair, or hear her quiet words as she walked past me to climb in on the driver side: "Do I look okay? You never told me where we are going."

My brain kicked back in; I gestured toward the patio, where Clay, Claude, and four other men were standing silently, watching her. When she looked over my shoulder at them, I asked, "What do you think?"

She giggled; sat down on the seat, pulled her dress down a bit after giving me a glimpse of panty, turned her legs, and slid over into the middle of the bench seat.

Kaitlyn greeted the four men and thanked them for being patient and waiting. Gato winked at her and said, "Oh, believe me, it's been our pleasure."

Doc looked her in the face when she turned back around and whispered something to her; she giggled again, glanced at me, and faced the front with a smile on her face as I started down the mesa toward the highway.

"Did you decide this matched the rose-colored underthings better?" I whispered quietly.

"How did you know?" she whispered back, and pinched my leg through my jeans.

As we pulled out the gate and onto TX 166, Doc gave a short lecture on Sawtooth Mountain, located off to the northwest, and then did the same for Mount Livermore and Baldy Peak as we circled them on the way to town. Just before we turned back to the east, Doc turned and told the kids, "Those are the Sierra Viejo Mountains along the Rio Grande that you see off in the distance straight ahead, and when we turn you'll see the Puertacita Mountains and Miter Peak off to the east."

The kids listened raptly and asked appropriate questions; Doc was obviously pleased by their interest. He quietly told us how bright, curious, and intelligent he found them to be, and how those qualities needed to be nurtured, developed, and refined.

That gave me something new to think about as I drove us to town. If they stay with me, where do they go to school? What can we do as parents to further their education? What if they move back to Houston? Now there's a disturbing thought!

The Jeff Davis courthouse and the Limpia Hotel spurred more history lessons from the Old Timers before I pulled up at the Fort Davis Drug Store and Hotel. We waited outside so our security team could join us, and then lead us inside. They were wearing jeans with tee shirts, like the locals, but they drew attention anyway because, well, where do you find four men in that kind of physical condition who are that alert and look that ready to rumble?

The soda fountain and soda bar were firsts for Kaitlyn as well as Dos and Grace. We came for the floats and shakes, but the burgers smelled so good we each had one, and split baskets of sweet potato fries and hand battered onion rings. After all that, we had sundaes made with Blue Bell ice cream.

Sated, we decided to walk around the little town to let our food settle. The security team members spread out and disappeared, but I caught sight of them from time to time as we wandered the town of 1200 hardy souls.

After Gato described the July 4 activities that take place on the Courthouse square, the kids scrambled up the steps and walked inside.

Kaitlyn put her hands on her hips and declared, "We're not in La Kiva now, and I'm tired of calling you by your Jumano names. What are your REAL names?"

El Gato chuckled, and they all looked sheepish. "Yes, mam, you're right! Let me introduce myself, and then these other owlhoots can do the same. My given name is Ronald Dalton, but my friends call me Ron. In a previous life, I was in commercial development in the Dallas-Fort Worth Area."

He turned to El Chaparral, who bowed and said, "Carlos Aleman Montoya at your service, Miss Kaitlyn. I'm formerly of the Mexican industrial city of Monterey, where I was involved in logistics: moving manufactured goods from Monterey across Mexico, and into the United States and Canada. I met a lot of fine businessmen in that role, but also I came to know the underbelly of Mexican and American society. As you know, those contacts can be helpful from time to time."

El Coyote introduced himself as Christopher "Chris" Hayes, Junior, former Houston Oilman and petrochemical plant owner and proud Terlingua resident for the past eight years.

El Toro gave her a kindly smile, and said, "You already know I'm a retired professor at Sul Ross in Alpine -- well, now Professor Emeritus -- and I also go by Doc because I have a PhD in Geology. My given name is Brian Wilder. I was married to the love of my life, Betsy, for forty years before she succumbed to breast cancer eight years ago. She was an elementary teacher, and we had no children, beyond those we taught.

"Chris was also blessed to be married for nearly forty years, to a woman far, far out of his league. She died of lung cancer about five years ago. They had one son, a career marine who was killed in Afghanistan.

"Ron lost his wife of 28 years, and his only child, in an automobile accident almost 12 years ago. And Carlos - Carlos lost his wife and three kids to a car bomb meant for him. He still grieves them ten years later, and his hatred for the cartel responsible knows no bounds.

"So, there you have it, in a nutshell. Probably more than you wanted to know, but that should help you understand our affection for you and your precious children."

A variety of expressions had crossed Kaitlyn's face as they were formally introduced, ending with dismay at the loss of wives and children. With tears slowly tracking down her face, she straightened herself, wiped the tears with her fingers, curtsied, and said, "I'm Kaitlyn Anne Sterling, and I'm very pleased to know each of you. I was once married to the love of my life, but I lost him due to my own stupidity. He did leave me with two very precious children, and it would be my honor to share them with you! You've already taught them so much, and I sincerely hope we can stay in this area and continue to develop our relationships."

I'll be honest; although I knew their stories, I had tears in my eyes when Doc summarized their losses. I had barely wiped them away when Kaitlyn ended her introduction and four sets of eyes turned to me. Knowing what they wanted, but not ready to go there, I said, "I also hope Kaitlyn, Dos, and Grace will stay in the area. I think they know they always have a home with me."

Five heads nodded, and then turned to the stairs, where our daughter and son came running down saying they talked to Sheriff Goodson and he wanted us to come inside!

That got me off the hook, momentarily, but I knew that having heard their stories and Kaitlyn's response had moved me off high-center. Whatever came next, though, would have to wait -- I needed more time for reflection and consideration before decision.

***

The good Sheriff gave us a hearty greeting and a grand tour of the historic old courthouse, which was constructed in 1910 and restored to its (almost) original state in 2003. He even let the kids scramble up into the old clock tower to see all the gears and the bell that rang on the hour. The domed tower has clocks facing the four points of the compass, which means someone has to keep the clocks working perfectly or you get a different time depending on whether you are on the north, east, south, or west. Fortunately, a clockmaker retired to Fort Davis and he keeps the clocks in good working order.

After our tour, Sheriff Goodson took us into the district courtroom and regaled us with stories of the history of Fort Davis the city, and Fort Davis, the cavalry post located just north of town that has been undergoing slow restoration since the 1970s.

After his stories about the brave Buffalo soldiers and the crafty Mescalero Apache and Comanche they were expected to control, we were all excited about our upcoming visit to the post.

We had about run out of things to do in town and it was getting late in the afternoon, so I suggested we take the scenic loop back to the ranch. When I told her how long it would take, Kaitlyn suggested we take food because the kids would get hungry before we got home.

Ron suggested we buy everything we need at the grocery store, eat at the rest stop in Madera Canyon and then take the two-mile hike to learn more about the rare-for-Texas trees and other vegetation that grows at the 6000-foot elevation.

The grocery store actually had woven picnic baskets for sale, so we did it up right.

From Fort Davis, we proceeded north on TX 118, past the entrance to Davis Mountains State Park on the left, and Mts. Locke and Fowlkes on the right. After watching the domed buildings for more than ten minutes of our drive, we came upon the entrance to the McDonald Observatory, where we would attend the star gazing party in two days. The kids were so fascinated by its otherworldly appearance they were ready to go see it right now!

We were steadily climbing in elevation as we continued into the "Texas Alps", and flora was changing. There were several varieties of pine now, including Ponderosa and Longleaf, and some Blue Spruce, as we approached the 6700 elevation that makes this "the highest highway in Texas."

We decided to take the relatively easy 2.4-mile hike before we ate, and appreciated the markers identifying the vegetation. We also saw Blacktail (Mule) Deer, rabbits, a raccoon, and a variety of birds, but we were all ready to eat when we got back to the Frank Woodward rest area.

The four members of our security team walked and then ate with us; there was little chance of danger, given that we were the only ones there.

Looking back, we got careless. The distant location, the solitude, and the relaxed environment we had been in all day lulled us.

When a nice looking Class C motorhome built on a Freightliner chassis pulled in and parked well away from us, we paid scant attention to it. After a smallish couple disembarked, stretched, and began setting up a meal on a covered table, even our guards relaxed.

The restrooms were midway between us and the RV, so Kaitlyn and Juan, a member of our security team, escorted Dos and Grace to use the restrooms and wash up after our meal. The rest of us gathered and disposed of our waste in the trashcan, and reloaded the remains in the Suburban.

It was only when the RV began leaving, their meal still on the table, that we started looking for Kaitlyn, Dos, Grace, and Juan. I called their names, but no answer. I sprinted to the restroom, barely arriving before Abel, Randy, and Wayne, who were running with their pistols drawn. We found Juan unconscious on the ground outside the restroom; he had been shot in the back, but was still alive.

Kaitlyn and the kids were gone!

I grabbed Juan's pistol from his holster, yelled at Chap and Coyote to bring the Suburban and Denali XL, ordered Randy and Wayne to load Juan in their vehicle and go get help, and told Abel to follow me!

Having seen the RV start north, and knowing there was a steep grade and series of hairpin curves ahead of it, I ran downhill and then along a dry creek bed, hoping to cut it off before it cleared the steep grade. Abel was close on my heels, and I was yelling instructions as we ran. The shortcut got us to the road just seconds before the RV passed. We separated, hid behind trees beside the road, and shot out the tires as it got in front of us.

I fired twice into the front tire, then four times into the engine compartment. Abel fired twice into the outside rear tire, and then again into the tread of the inside tire; the diesel engine seized and the RV ground to a halt. We heard the transmission lurch into park and the air brake applied. I ran up the grade to the roadway and the side of the RV; Able ran to the rear.

Juan's Glock 22 had the optional 22 round magazine and fired the 40-caliber S&W cartridge; I assumed Abel's was the same, so we were well armed. The RV was stymied: it would be impossible to drive it on this road in these conditions.

The problems were, we couldn't see anything except paint and tinted windows, and they had hostages! The problem with the tinted window in the slideout solved itself when a shot was fired through it from the inside. The bullet whined as it flew over my head and thudded into a tree.

I was close to the RV now; I caught a glimpse of the shooter extending his gun out the window to target me as I got closer, and I fired twice. I wasn't concerned about hitting the hostages (my family!) because I was firing at such a steep angle a miss would go through the roof, not into the living space of the RV.

I didn't miss; the gun clattered to the roadway, and I heard a body fall to the floor. A woman yelled at us to stop firing or they would kill the hostages. I heard firing from the rear of the vehicle, and saw Abel dive under the rear bumper.

I was at the passenger door, crouched so low the bullets fired through the wall of the RV near where I had been standing would have gone over my head anyway. I tested the door and found it was unlocked. Easing it open a few inches, I peered beside the seat and saw shooters looking out the windows on each side of the living area.