The Ranch

If they had killed him, then they would have had to have been working with people that he had good evidence of there being completely hostile feelings between. That didn't make sense. It was possible that she didn't want to muddy the waters of their relationship by divulging the information, but then again, he hadn't offered her the job yet. It was possible that Mark was working with them and not letting her know, but then he wouldn't have had the time to take care of his blackmailing operation. There seemed to be many questions and very few answers. All of them would have to wait. Things had to be done to keep everything looking as if it was on the up and up.

John helped Jake move the trailer in place on the side of the drive area before the two of them entering the house for dinner. "Mrs. Nelson," he began.

"You should probably call me Sarah," she interrupted.

"Very well. Sarah, tomorrow I need you to go into town. You will need to go to the bank where you will sign a signature card. You will have access to two accounts dealing with the ranch. The first is the household account. You will use this account to buy groceries and other supplies needed for the house and the apartment. The other is the main ranch account. I don't have an accountant to run the books, so for now, I would like you to take on that responsibility."

'Alright. I can do that."

"I think that will help your brother-in-law know that he can trust me. Also, I will be away from the buildings for the next few days. I'm going to ride the line and check on the fencing. It will give me an idea of how much needs to be done. Jake will be here to take care of anything you need him to."

The next morning, John prepared to leave on horseback. He didn't think anything about what he was doing, but saddled Charger. When he realized it, he wondered if the horse would accept him as his rider. He led him out of the stable and with everything he needed tied down to the horse, mounted the beast. There was no bucking off, no laying down. Charger stood waiting for the order of which way to go. He began walking the animal towards the road and then along the fence line to note where there might be breaks in the fence.

He wasn't moving very fast. He didn't have a need to. So, it wasn't a surprise that Lisa could catch up to him. It was a surprise that she would want to.

She found him just before noon sitting in an area where there was a small break in the fence. Someone may have climbed over it or it could have been just a spot where it broke down naturally. Either way, it would have to be fixed to make the ranch workable again. He had just written down the details of its location and the calculated materials needed for it when he heard the hoof beats of her horse. He instinctively reached for the Sig Sauer P226 at his hip as he looked around. Although still some ways off, he had no trouble ascertaining her identity. He relaxed a little and let her approach.

"It seems you really do have a way with horses, Mr. Turlow," she said as she came to a halt. "I never would have thought you could get Charger to let you ride him."

"We're on good enough terms. What are you doing out here?"

"You'll need a guide. You aren't familiar with the property."

"No. but I do know how to read a map," he returned.

"Perhaps. But it is still good to have someone with you who knows the area. I have lived here all my life."

"Yes. You made that pretty clear to the realtor Saturday.," he interrupted. "Someone named Nancy?"

"Nancy Bailey." Lisa smiled slightly at his retort. That surprised John. Nancy Wright had been Lisa's friend. Had she married someone in the Bailey household? Perhaps Jeremiah's friend Richard? He quietly chastised himself for failing to take notice of the name before. "Anyway, I know the land, sir. You will need me on this little venture you're undertaking."

"I wish you wouldn't have put it that way."

"What way?"

"Undertaking," he answered. "I'm not too fond of using that word for such a task. There's lots of things that can get a person killed out here," he said thinking not only of the Timberlake Rattlesnake he had in one of his saddlebags that he had killed earlier that day.

"All the more reason to have me along. I'm not going away, Mr. Turlow. You may as well accept that fact."

"I'm surprised the sheriff let you come out to do this. I didn't think he trusted me."

"He didn't. And he doesn't."

"But you do?"

"I don't know if I trust you completely yet, but I am sure that you are who you say you are."

"Why's that?"

"You mucked out the stalls on Sunday. Most people would have let it go until the next day. You always take care of the animals before you take care of yourself. I mean you made sure that they were fed and had water before eating breakfast. That says rancher."

After a little thought, he decided to give in. "Miss Nelson, if you do this, you will follow my orders, got that?"

"As long as you understand I'm not some submissive little pet for you to play with."

"Believe me. I wouldn't dream of doing anything like that with you. Did you bring stuff for yourself to eat or do I have to share?"

"I thought we would survive on what's out here to eat."

He gave a short chuckle and continued his way forward along the fence.

A half hour later, he found another small break in the fence. He dismounted, plotted the location on a map, measured, looked for the fence post, determined the materials needed and recorded everything in a notebook. Then, he opened one of his saddle bags. "Hungry?" he asked as he reached inside.

"Haven't found anything to eat yet," she answered.

He pulled two MRE's from his bag and threw one to her. "Not always something around. That's why you need to be prepared."

Lisa had never seen such a thing before, but found it easy to figure out. "Interesting."

"I take it you have not eaten an MRE before?"

"No"

"I imagine you won't have any trouble. Some of them have items that you can reconstitute with water, but you don't necessarily have to. And you'll find a packet that you can add water to that will cause the water to heat up, thus providing a way to heat up things in the meal." He looked at what he had. Tuna and noodles. It was not a bad choice. "Some of them are better than others. What one did you get?"

"Ham."

"That one's not too bad. At least it's not the corned beef hash."

The rest of the day went by normally. There were three more places John found with small broken-down fences, and when he finally called for a stop for the night and set up camp, he was grateful that Lisa had remembered a sleeping bag at least. They would have to share the pup tent he brought though. Once the tent was up, he grabbed a green case from his pack. It was shaped like a rectangle except at the bottom which came to a point. From it, he withdrew a small folded shovel and after unfolding it set about digging down about half a foot in a circle for a fire pit. There wasn't much to use for firewood, but they found enough.

Once the fire was going, he pulled the snake he had killed earlier from his pack and began to skin it. Lisa saw what he was doing and got a grill rack out of her own pack to lay the snake on to cook it. He let her do that while he dug a trench around the tent to direct water away from it if it happened to rain. It was a quiet night from that time on, as he avoided answering questions and asked none of his own. There were things he wanted to know. Things that he thought he would need to know. But those would have to wait.

It was midday the next day when they came along a large break in the fence. John dismounted as soon as they got near.

"What the heck?" Lisa questioned. "This looks as if a truck has gone through here. John, has someone been driving across our land?"

He didn't answer as he pulled things from his pack. He looked in the distance and found a communication tower. Opening his notebook, he looked at the map that was inside. He picked two more things that he recognized on the map and held a compass in his hand against his belly as he faced each thing, then wrote down a number after each time. He drew lines on the map from each of those and marked where they crossed. Then he faced along the path that looked like someone had driven through and wrote that number down. He marked another line across the map straight across what he knew would be his property and looked where it ended up. What he had suspected was true. The path would have led straight to the warehouse property that was situated next to the ranch. The one owned and operated by Britney Evans and her son Julien.

"What did you just do?" Lisa asked.

"Tell me something, Lisa. Do you know anything about how your father kept ahold of this ranch after your brother was sent away?"

"Mom told you about that?"

He just looked at her not saying anything.

"Well, no. I never even thought about it. Until mom had to sell it, I really didn't care how the bills were paid. I was just trying to make it where I could survive on my own."

"Why were you so mad at Nancy if you were planning on leaving anyway? She used to be your friend, didn't she?"

"Yes, she was my friend. But that was before she sold you the ranch. I always thought I would still be able to come back here to see mom. It was my home even though poppa made it miserable at times."

"Do you get along well with the Evans family?"

"I don't go anywhere near them. Mom told me to stay away from them when I was first starting school and she made sure that I knew to stay away ever since. Mrs. Evans comes into the diner once in a while, but that's as much interaction I have with them. Why?"

John thought for I bit before deciding to answer. "This path that cuts across the property goes straight towards the warehouse the Evans' operate. I wonder if your father knew about it and was helping them move something through here."

"Not poppa," she declared emphatically. "He hated them for some reason, so he would never have done any business with them."

He let it go. It was probable that she was right. There would have been a lot of bad blood between the two families. After all, one of the Evans' had raped one of the Nelson's, although she wasn't yet a Nelson at the time, and then that Nelson had seen to it that he went to jail. He reminded himself that Lisa didn't know that part of the story.

They continued on then set up camp again when it was time to stop. John was plagued by the questions that he didn't have answers to and when it was time to bed down, his sleep was not restful.

The two men were running. They could hear the small arms fire behind them and even caught the whizz of passing bullets once in a while. It seemed that the enemy was determined to not let them reach the bunker where they had left their other gear. But it was only a few meters ahead and they both sprinted for it, pouring on more speed to reach the window in the small building. The dark-haired man got there first and dove through the window followed immediately by the blonde, though with their helmets on no one could see their hair color.

"Henderson! two forty!" said the first.

"On it, Sarge," the other answered as his partner began shooting out the window.

He was careful of their ammo and refrained from using fully automatic on the M16A3 that he was firing. His rounds left the barrel one at a time and each found a target in the advancing troops. After a couple of minutes during which Henderson was retrieving the weapon, he heard the clank of the cover being lowered in place over the belt of 7.62 mm rounds loaded in the M240 machine gun then the scrapping click as the charging handle was pulled back and then locked into place. He lowered himself from the window as the weapon began to spew forth rounds and grabbed the mic for the radio.

He forced himself to calm down before keying the mic. "Stingray zero six this Turlow one niner, fire for effect, over." He took up aim again and fired a couple more rounds as he listened to the response, then grabbed up the mic again. He added a description (troops in the open) and the grid coordinates of the target to the person on the other end. When they answered again, he added "Danger close," to the message, then went back to firing at the enemy.

He heard Henderson grunt for a second then the machinegun continued firing. Within five minutes, the battle field outside the small building became a field of explosions as artillery rounds landed. The two in the bunker threw themselves to the ground below the window as the whistle of the incoming rounds was heard, praying that the rounds would land where they needed them and not on the building itself.

When the Sargent looked back out, the area was riddled with bodies, but a small group was running away in the distance. Those would live to see another day. He then looked at the other man and gasped. "Alex, you're hit!" he exclaimed.

"I know, Sarge. I can feel it." He was still laying on the floor and the blood was pouring from his wound.

The Sargent grabbed the pressure bandage from what the Army laughably called a first aid kit and tried to wrap it around his body, desperate to keep the blood inside the body. "Don't you die on me, man. I need you here."

"Can't help you there, Sarge," Henderson replied. "But I can give you the information you really want."

"What?"

"Everyone knows that you are CID, Sarge. Most don't know what's going on or why you're here. I do. The man you want is Sargent Phillips. He has a contact in the states for the guns. You chase him down for me, will you? Some of those weapons that were being used by those insurgents were ours." The man groaned and closed his eyes.

"Alex?" pleaded the Sargent. "Alex!"

"Alex! Alex!!"

The scream woke Lisa and she sat up quickly. "John?" she queried. "What is it? What's wrong?"

His head turned in her direction, but it was obvious that he wasn't really seeing her. His eyes were just slightly glazed over.

"Sis? What are you doing here? You have to leave. Afghanistan is too volatile right now. You must leave." His eyes closed again and he laid his head back down, once more fully asleep.

The incident left Lisa with many questions. Who was Alex? What had happened to him? And Afghanistan? That would explain some of what she had seen in the past couple of days. He was too good with setting up a temporary campsite. But his eyes were what really threw her for a loop. She knew those eyes. She knew the haunted look of them. She had grown up seeing that look all her life. She knew those eyes very well. If her suspicions were correct, that, too, would explain some things. But it left a lot more questions than they answered. She didn't sleep the rest of the night.

John woke at six o' clock as usual. Once they had eaten and had the camp broke down, they started out again along the fence line. Lisa wanted to ask, but couldn't. She wanted to know who Alex was. She had concluded that he had been either badly wounded or killed in Afghanistan. Or perhaps she. Alex could be short for Alexandria. While women were not assigned jobs in combat arms, that didn't mean that they didn't get into combat. She could remember reading about a female helicopter pilot flying a med evac chopper that was shot down just after picking up the man she was supposed to fly to safety. She'd had to fight her way back to friendly territory while dragging the patient with her. Fortunately, they both survived.

"Your mother said that your father was rather strict in his punishment of your brother," John started. "Did he try to use such tactics on you as well?"

"Only twice after y-, um, Jeremiah left," she answered. The first time, I could barely move the next day. Uncle Roy told him he should remember that it was considered child abuse to treat me so harshly and he could go to jail. The second time, Uncle Roy was there and he stopped him. He told him if he ever tried to hit me again, he wouldn't have to worry about jailtime because he would be dead. After that, he never touched me again and even avoided me. Uncle Roy was over a lot after that. I think that may have contributed to his divorce."

"The sheriff was married?"

"Yeah. Aunt Marie ran off about a year after the fire. I think she hooked up with someone in Des Moines."

"So, how do you know it was a factor in the divorce?"

"It seemed that way. Aunt Marie complained that he was never home, and she said something about him dealing with another family. We are the only family in the area that he was dealing with on a daily basis."

John was quiet for quite a while after she said that, turning facts over in his head. Why had Roy Nelson bothered to get so protective with her when he had not done so with Jeremiah? It was a question that he didn't have an immediate answer for. But he made a mental note to send someone to talk to this Marie as soon as possible to find out what she might know that could help him figure out what was going on.

It was another day of riding along the fence and finding breaks that needed to be fixed. John calculated that there was only one night left that they would have to be out and he was very happy about that. When they got back, he would be able to find out what had been going on. He wished he had his cell phone, but had left it in the apartment since he had no way of recharging it out here in the field. Then he thought that even if he had had it, he couldn't have used it with Lisa being right there to listen in.

John moved his horse behind a small grove of trees with Lisa following. Furtively, he looked toward the area where the fence was torn down. A space wide enough to drive through and signs of a path told him that this was probably the other end of the path that they had found days earlier.

What he didn't understand was why nobody was around to watch the opening. At the other end, it was obvious that no one would sit around it when it opened out onto the road, but here, it crossed from the ranch property to the next property: the Evans' warehouse complex. He withdrew a small set of binoculars and searched the trees on the other side for any sign of a place to hide and watch the opening. He looked for camaras that might be monitoring the area, watching for anyone that might come across their operations path. He could see nothing that told him of anyone or anything watching.

"Stay here," he told Lisa before dismounting and slowly walking out of the trees toward the break. He had grabbed his Browning BL-22 rifle as he left and hoped he wouldn't be using it at that moment. Nothing stirred. He quickly took measurements, calculating the spot on the map and the direction of the path. His calculations confirmed what he already knew: this was where that path came out that they had found earlier in the week. Once he had the measurements of the break, he darted back behind the cover of the trees and remounted Charger. He took a last look before moving off towards the homestead that was still some hours ride away.

If Jeremiah had been there at the ranch instead of being sent away, would that break have been there? He thought not. If the old foreman had been allowed to make a go of the ranch, he thought it probably wouldn't have been there. But they were both gone.

"Your mother said there was a foreman for the ranch, some guy named Westfield?"

"Westfall," Lisa corrected automatically. "Lamar Westfall."

"Is he still around the area?"

"Sure. He works for the Evans' in their warehouse."

That was a surprise. If the Nelson's were on as hostile terms as was indicated, why would their foreman go there after leaving the ranch? More questions without any answers, he complained inwardly.

It was after four-o' clock when the two rode into the homestead area. Lisa was surprised by what she saw. When they had left, they only thing there were her vehicle, an old Dodge Dart that had been bought when she was seventeen, her mother's Dodge Durango, John and Jake's trucks, the Haulmark trailer and the Coachman 323. Now, the yard seemed full of vehicles. There was a second coachman, the 303 that Jake had told John about but she was unaware of, a Travalong gooseneck horse trailer able to transport five horses, and two bumper pull trailers that would hold two horses each. There were also several cars and pick-up trucks present, and a lot more people.