War on the Home Front

As always, this is a work of fiction. Even the remotest resemblance between the characters described in this story and any person living or dead is purely a coincidence. Any person engaging in sexual activity is 18 years of age or older.

There are likely numerous misstatements of Kentucky law in the narrative below. The intent was to move the story along, not provide legal advice. There is no Crockett County in Kentucky.

I appreciate all the feedback I've received on my earlier stories and encourage comments and suggestions to this story as well. Please be kind and gentle.

A WAR ON THE HOME FRONT

PROLOGUE

Matt Morton slowed as he approached the long farm lane that led to his house. As he prepared to turn into the lane, he noticed an older crew cab pickup, pulled off onto the side just a few yards down the road. He turned into the lane to clear the roadway, then stopped the truck. He opened the door, then walked down the county road to the truck. He'd gone into town to purchase lumber and have dinner with his mother. The bed of his truck was full of 1x12 boards, materials for tomorrow's repair to the barn. He'd inherited the farm when his grandfather had died. Until a year earlier, it had been a quarter century since the farm was anything but a home of record in a military file.

Matt and his mother, Sally, had moved in with his grandparents when Matt was six. His father, a decorated Virginia state police corporal, had been killed during a traffic stop. He'd pulled over a car with Florida tags, loaded so heavily that it had fully compressed the rear shocks and springs. The trunk of that car had been loaded with cocaine. The driver had pulled a gun and Matt's dad and the driver had both died in the ensuing shootout. Sally, a schoolteacher, had quickly concluded that she could not afford the Washington, DC suburbs on her salary and her late husband's pension. She had moved back onto her parents' farm, taking a teaching job in the eastern Kentucky county school district's high school, then becoming the first female principal in the district's history. She had educated and guided several generations of students before retiring two years before. Although she had never remarried, she had "kept company" with a male teacher some fifteen years older whom she'd met a few years after moving back. He had died shortly after she retired.

Matt and his mother were both only children. After Sally's parents died, she had moved into town, purchasing a small house that was convenient to the school, allowing her to walk to work when she wanted. At her request, her father had left the farm to Matt, hoping that it would lure him back home when his military career ended. She'd arranged for a neighboring farmer to lease the croplands, paying sufficient rent to cover the taxes and provide basic maintenance on the property. She'd leased the farmhouse to a series of families, most of whom had later moved to town rather than stay so far from the nearest neighbor.

Matt enlisted in the Army the summer after high school graduation. He'd spent twenty-five years on active duty, mostly with special forces units. The Army had been very good to him. He'd trained as a medic and obtained a college degree, plus a masters' degree in health care management. In special forces units, medics were far more than just first responders. Frequently the primary interface with the locals in "hearts and minds" actions, Matt's training and skill levels matched or exceeded that of many rural general practice physicians of the pre-WWII era and he had access to antibiotics and painkillers that those pre-war doctors could only dream about. Matt had run inoculation programs, delivered babies, treated broken bones and various wounds, and performed simple surgeries. Cross trained as a weapons specialist, Matt was proficient with both NATO and former eastern bloc weaponry. His grandfather had been a competitive rifle and pistol shooter in his youth. He had trained Matt to be a superb shot with both rifle and pistol long before the Army had ever put him on a firing range.

Matt's recruiter had told him that if he enlisted, the Army would guarantee that he saw the world. Matt had, although nearly all the parts he'd seen were far, far away from those most tourists visited. He'd once calculated that in twenty-five years of active duty, he'd spent seventeen deployed overseas, mostly in rural areas of Latin America, southwest Asia, and sub-Saharan Africa. Somewhere in the attic, there was a box full of "I was there" ribbons and medals. The box also held a Bronze Star with V Device, a Silver Star, and a Distinguished Service Cross, each of which had come with its own Purple Heart. The last Purple Heart had brought about Matt's retirement. As a result of the action that generated it, Matt now carried a collection of plates, screws and pins holding various parts of him together as well as a host of scars on his legs and torso. The level of damage did not interfere with ordinary activities as a civilian, including reasonable exercise, but it had put an end to deployments. Rather than sit at a desk or be limited to training roles, Matt had chosen to retire. To his mother's delight, he had returned home to the farm on which he'd grown up.

The deployment schedule had kept Matt from ever forming any kind of permanent relationship with a woman. He stood about five foot ten inches and weighed about one hundred sixty pounds, within a pound or two of his weight at enlistment. He was ruggedly handsome, and his good looks, along with his physical condition and military bearing, caught the attention of many attractive women over the years. There had been numerous casual relationships with various NGO and UN staffers, a couple of news correspondents, and even some local nationals. Since returning home, he'd avoided relationships with women from his home town, although he'd had numerous offers. Most of the women he'd known from high school were married and divorced, usually with a couple of children and a tale of woe about a dead-beat ex-husband. There were too many rocks and shoals in those offers to make them the least bit attractive. At present, he was seeing Monique, an emergency room doctor in a university hospital about 50 miles away, whom he'd met at a jazz club. He'd been sitting two stools down from her at the bar when a former boyfriend had refused to take "No" for an answer. After the boyfriend had grabbed her arm and jerked her off the barstool, Matt had intervened. He'd quickly disabled the boyfriend and frog marched him out of the club. Monique had bought him a drink to say thank you, then accepted his offer to join him for dinner. Their common interest in medicine had provided common ground and they had developed a "good friends with benefits" arrangement which had no prospect of becoming something more. Monique, a statuesque African American, was not about to move to rural eastern Kentucky, where interracial relationships were still actively frowned upon. Matt had no desire to move to the city, enjoying living on the farm. The two of them had drifted along, seeing each other about twice a month for romantic dinners, concerts and theater evenings, and torrid sex. They'd taken one week-long trip to the Caribbean together, but both acknowledged that there was no long-term future in the arrangement, and it was clear to both that it was winding down.

Matt's frugal lifestyle and extensive deployment schedule had left him with very few opportunities to spend money, resulting in his having a healthy investment portfolio. For the last year, Matt had been using some of those funds to update the farmhouse and restore the barn and other outbuildings. He'd brought in professionals to do the electrical and plumbing but all the other work had been his. The house now had a new roof, a modern country-style kitchen with upgraded appliances, two-and-a-half modern bathrooms, insulation, propane fired gas heating with wood stove backup, an air conditioning system, and modern windows. Because there was no cell or internet service in the area, Matt had installed a satellite dish and maintained satellite telephone and internet service as well as having a cell phone. His deployments in Latin America had mostly focused on actions against the cartels, so he also installed a state-of-the-art security and video monitoring system tied to the satellite service, allowing him to see what occurred in and around the house and barn from anywhere he could find an internet connection. The boards in the bed of the truck were the last pieces of siding needed for the barn repair. After that, he would paint the barn and the outbuildings, and the year-long renovation project would be complete. He was unsure what would follow. The county health clinic had a standing offer to him to work as a physician's assistant and the local ambulance service wanted him as an EMT. Absent some other opportunity arising, he expected that one of those jobs lay in his future. In any case, he believed that his days of combat were behind him and that he could look forward to a peaceful second act to his life. It would take a while to discover that he wasn't quite correct in that belief.

CHAPTER ONE

As Matt approached the truck, he heard what sounded like a baby's cry. He stopped in the middle of the road, listening carefully and then heard it again. It seemed to be coming from the truck. He walked up to the side of the truck and peered in. There was a woman leaning against the driver's side door, apparently asleep. There were three small children in car seats in the rear seat. The bed of the truck held several suitcases. Matt knocked on the driver's side window, hoping to awaken the woman. She began to stir.

As she awoke, the woman looked out her window. Her response was not what Matt anticipated. Rather than greeting him, she reached into her lap and raised a.38 revolver, pointing it at him through the window. Matt quickly raised his hands. Then he began efforts to defuse the situation.

"Lady, please point that somewhere else. I saw your truck on the side of the road as I was coming home and just wanted to check to see if you were o.k. I live up the lane you passed about thirty yards back. That's my truck in the lane."

Still holding the revolver in her right hand, the woman cranked down the window about two inches. "We're fine. We just need a tow. The truck broke down about an hour ago. The lights started to get dimmer and dimmer and then the truck stopped running completely. I can't seem to be able to call anyone on my cell phone. I was hoping for a sheriff's deputy or a state trooper to come by and radio for help."

"Well, ma'm, you're out of luck tonight. This area has no cell service. There are only two county deputies on duty overnight. I haven't seen either one come down this road at night in months. This is a county road. The troopers don't patrol it. And it goes nowhere, so there's almost no traffic. Plus, even if someone other than me did come by here, the only tow truck in town belongs to a garage that closes at 6:00 PM. And Willy, the owner, doesn't take calls after 9:00 P.M. You're stuck here for the night."

The woman quietly looked at him for a moment and then said, "Shit!" She continued, "Can you give us a ride into the nearest town so we can find a place to stay?"

"No motels in town that I'd let anyone stay in. There are a few B&Bs, but they've all closed down for the night. I can offer you and your kids a bedroom up at the house, if you don't mind you all sleeping in one room. I don't have a crib for the baby, though. I do have enough spare blankets and such to make a pad on the floor that would work."

"Won't your wife mind?"

"I'm not married. Never have been." Matt paused for a moment, then continued, "Frankly, ma'm, this is likely the best offer you're going to get tonight. Let's get everything in my truck, lock yours up for the night and deal with the problem in the morning. I'll put out a couple of reflectors so no one runs into the truck in the off chance anyone comes down this road tonight. I can tow your truck up to my barn in the morning and see if I can find out what's wrong with it. From your description, it probably needs a new alternator. It may take a day or two to find one for a truck this old, but I'm fairly sure that's the problem and I can fix it in an hour or so once I get the parts."

The woman continued to hesitate. "Look lady," Matt finally said, "You can keep the gun. The room I'll give you in the house has a door that locks. You can put a chair under the knob so I can't break in. The room has a bathroom attached. I can't do any better than that. Do you really want to sleep in this truck tonight?"

Finally, the woman unlocked and opened her door, stepping out of the truck. Matt walked back to his truck, pulled it up next to the woman's, and loaded the children and all of her luggage into his truck. They drove up to the house and proceeded to unload the children and the woman's luggage into Matt's living room.

Rollo, Matt's yellow Labrador retriever greeted everyone at the door. Matt let the dog out for to do his business for the evening. While the dog was out, Matt took the luggage upstairs. The woman was removing the children from their car seat restraints when Matt came down. She turned to look at him. For the first time, Matt saw her face clearly. Her right eye was blackened, her right cheek bruised, and she had a split lip. "Did you have an accident?"

"No, my husband did this to me. I left him after he did this."

"Did you call the cops?"

"Wouldn't have done any good. I'm from Crockett County. His uncle, George Johnson, is the Crockett County sheriff, his father, David, is the county's judge executive, and his brother, David, Jr., is the Crockett County attorney. No one is going to do anything to him for hitting me. My only hope is to run far enough away that he can't find me and start over. I was hoping to reach the city and check into a women's shelter tonight. The truck's breaking down trashed that plan."

"Look lady, this is none of my business. But you need to report this. Or at least to document it. Let's put the kids to bed and then let me take some photos. I'll send them to your phone tomorrow when we take you into town."

"What good will that do?"

"Creates a record. The photos will have a time stamp. If you can get someone to pay attention, you'll have a record."

"Why would you do that for me?"

"Lady, I spent most of my military career trying to protect people who couldn't protect themselves from the local bullies. I'd say your husband is a bully. Let me help you at least that much. I'm going to put you into the master bedroom because it has its own bathroom. I'll sleep in another bedroom. Now let's get the kids up to bed. Then we'll take the photos. I went to high school with our county sheriff, so he may be able to help. We can talk to him in the morning."

The woman took the infant and Matt picked up the two sleeping children. They carried the three upstairs, laying the infant in a nest of blankets on the floor and the two children in the bed. Then Matt and the woman returned to the living room.

"I should introduce myself," Matt said. "My name is Matt Houston. And you are?"

"I'm Sarah Johnson. My children are Faith, Hope and Josiah."

"Nice to meet you. Now, let's get the photos. You can decide what to do with them tomorrow, but I want to document this tonight."

Matt picked up his cell phone and took several closeups of Sarah's face. "Is this all of the damage?"

"No," she replied quietly. "He beat me on my back and legs as well."

"Do you mind if I get pictures of that as well?"

Standing with her back to Matt, Sarah slid her top up to her neck and her pants to her ankles. Her back and legs were a mass of black and blue bruises and welts. Her bra strap and her panties concealed a small amount of the damage, but the rest was clearly visible and ran from her shoulders to her ankles. Matt took closeups of all that as well.

"Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

"I'm exhausted. Can we talk about this in the morning? And please don't tell anyone what happened or that I'm here until I have time to think about my next steps."

"O.K.," said Matt. He then told her goodnight and watched Sarah go up to the bedroom. He heard the lock turn in the door and the sound of a chair being propped up against the doorknob. He opened the front door, called Rollo in for the night, then turned out the lights and went to bed.

CHAPTER TWO

The following morning, as was his custom, Matt woke early and went for a run with Rollo. As he ran, he thought about how deal with all he had heard. When he returned from his run, Sarah was sitting in his kitchen. "Let's go get your truck up to the barn," Matt told her. "I can work on it there. If I'm right, it won't need much, just the alternator. Can we leave the children alone in the bedroom long enough to get the truck? If not, I can call my mom and have her come out to watch the kids while we fetch the truck." Sarah said they could leave the children, then got her keys. Matt went out to the barn to fire up his grandfather's old tractor and get a set of tow chains. He and Sarah rode the tractor down to the truck, hooked up the chains, and Matt slowly towed the truck up to the barn with Sarah steering. He hooked the battery up to a trickle charger and the two of them walked over to the house.

When they returned to the house, Matt asked Sarah what the children ate for breakfast. Oatmeal was the only cereal option, but he could make pancakes or eggs. The only other available option was toast. Sarah said that pancakes would be fine for her and the two older children. She went upstairs to feed the baby, then wake and dress the children, while Matt made pancakes.

After the children ate, Sarah and Matt washed the dishes. They put the children in the living room with Rollo. Matt then asked her to sit down at the kitchen table so they could talk. He began, "So, can you tell me how you got here?"

Sarah hesitated, then began. "I grew up in Crockett County. My dad had his own contracting business. My mom was a church secretary. I'm an only child. I went to college to become a schoolteacher. The summer before my senior year, my parents were killed in a car crash. They got hit by a drunk driver with no insurance. They left me their house and enough money to pay my last year of college. When I graduated, I took a job with the county's school system teaching third grade. I'd been working there a few months when I met my husband, Richard, at a bar. I'd gone out with a bunch of the teachers from work. I knew who his family was, but he's about six years older than I am, so I never really knew him. He was the most eligible bachelor in the county according to my friends. I was lonely and flattered by his interest in me. We had a whirlwind courtship and got married the following summer. That was four years ago. I got pregnant with Faith a couple of months after we got married and Richard encouraged me to quit teaching once she was born. We were living with his father in their house. It's a mansion, really. His mom died years ago from cancer and his dad never remarried. I thought I'd hit the jackpot. Me with no family, married into the most important family in the county, the family that rules the county like a medieval fiefdom. And here I'm married to one of the princes. Sounds like a real Cinderella story, doesn't it."

Sarah continued. "After we'd been married a while, Richard showed me his true colors. He separated me from all my friends. He insisted I get pregnant again, then again and again. And he changed. He turned out to be a degenerate gambler and a very bad one at that. By the time I found out about his gambling, we were broke. I'd put most of the money from the sale of my parents' house into our joint account and he gambled it all away. He also started drinking and I think he's been doing drugs of some kind. Last week, I came home and found his bookie in the living room with him. He made some bad bets on college and NBA basketball games on top of his football losses earlier this year. The bookie says he's $100,000 in the hole. The interest on the debt is two percent a week. According to Richard, he also owes money to a bunch of other people, including his buddy, Johnnie Mac. Richard's been hiding all of this from his family. Johnnie Mac is his daddy's enforcer. He told me that he'd worked something out with Johnnie Mac to settle that debt. It involved whoring me out to Johnnie Mac for a weekend. When I said no, he beat me up. A day after that, his father was away for an overnight with one of his girlfriends, so I spiked Richard's drink, packed the kids and my stuff and took the one car on the farm that doesn't have any kind of tracking system. I have about $2,500 left in an account Richard doesn't know about, but other than that, all I have is what you carried upstairs when we arrived last night."