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I can feel my heart race, her breathing returning to normal, and a shared warmth within our protective cocoon, comfortable while temperatures outside continue to lower, like in the high thirties with a light breeze, the air damp. She takes my hand and slowly places it on her outer thigh. Something stirs within. She presses my hand and returns her hand to my other arm wrapped around her chest. My hand slowly traces the contour of her leg, from her bottom to her firm stomach. I feel her heart beating, breathing speeding up. She rolls toward me, now face to face, my hand now gently pulling on the small of her back. I nuzzle in her neck, her head pulled back while I continue to caress her softness. My hand slips between her thighs, squeezed my hand, pulling herself closer. No words needed, nature at work, an act of intimacy in a world filled with heartache.
Indeed, the sun will rise, but for now we push the world away, holding onto a shared moment.
Tranquility broken, someone yelling, crawling in, entering my unit, “Jesse, you here! We got trouble at the front gate. Have you seen Addison? Oh shit, sorry, didn’t know you had company. Mr. Maddox wants you now. I’ll go find Addison. Hurry, front gate.”
Caught off guard ask, “What the…”
“Someone claiming to be a regional Marshall with a, posse, here to arrest you, claims to have your daughter and granddaughter under house arrest,” exits leaving me holding alarming thoughts.
Head fuzzy, Addison peeks out, “Is he gone?”
We quickly dress, leaving one at a time, Addison first to the stables to get our steeds, weapons, I head, walking to the main entrance where a crowd has gathered, there stands Mr. Maddox appearing peeved, Scout Team members headed our way, trouble. Walking slowly, evaluating the situation. Outside the entrance, bunched maybe a dozen armed men wearing some sorta ‘official’ looking badge. Each in a black button-down shirt with a matching kerchief. Several holding rifles aimed skyward.
I approach, stop at the gate, greet our visitors. “Morning, I understand someone may be looking for someone?”
Wearing a duster, black, standing about 6’ 2’ tipping the scales at approximately 250 pounds, black hat, rifle in this right hand displaying a badge. Sizable target.
I’m the regional Marshall. You’re under arrest. You’ll need to come with us.”
“Have we met,” I ask, “who exactly are you looking for?”
A stuttered response. “Ah, you, ah, Jesse… you fit the description.”
“Description?”
“Yeah, the one on the wanted poster.”
“This person you’re seeking, he have a name?”
Told ya, “Jesse.”
“Ah, so you said, and a last name?”
“Tucker.”
“By whose authority are you arresting this, Mr. Tucker?”
“Regional Governor.”
“Sorry I never met this, Regional Governor. His name is?”
“Her name.”
“Whatever.”
“Ass Hole. You’ll either come with us or we'll have a major problem, and some here are likely to get hurt.”
From behind I realize Frank, Joshua and Addison now mounted approach, Addison with my horse, hands me the lead, and I mount. The posse getting antsy. Folks behind scatter while I consider my options.
“I’d like to invite this Regional Governor to a meet-and-greet, here, is that possible?”
Rising his rifle and leveling it at me, “last warning.”
“Guess not. Just one final question, if I may.”
“Who is second in command?”
“It don’t matter.”
“It will to him.”
”Okay, let’s go and meet this, Regional, whatever.”
Meanwhile, I see the second Scout Team approaching behind the posses to their left and the other team behind them to their right. The posse, now surrounded, nervous. Outside the compound,… tensions rise.
“Mr. Maddox. Please open the gateway.”
He was not pleased, but unlocked and open the gate, slightly. His security staff at the ready.
We move forward, en masse.
“Whoa, where do you think they’re going?”
“We go together… this is not open for debate,” Addison replies.
I turn and ask, “You know this is most likely a suicide mission, right?”
No response. I shake my head, knowing if the boot was on the foot I would do the same. Pulling on the reins gently, grip my horse with my legs, cue her move forward. Exit and approach the Marshall, not sure what was to come next.
“I said only you. The others need to stand down.” His voice was tense. Others behind him, bunched together, now surrounded, considering their situation, draw together, realized their exposure. Confidence melting.
“Drop your weapons, all of them,” pointing, he yells.
My response, “I will, but first LOOK to your left.”
Of course he did.
Without hesitation, I pull my pistol and aim, cock the hammer, pointing it directly at him. Quickly, two members of the posses point their rifles at me.
Raising my pistol toward the sky, “Whoa, whoa, relax, wait a sec, pulling out a second weapon partially out of sight; to be clear, we will not disarm, and finally, your mob needs to stand-down. They’re making me nervous, so let’s be cool. No one needs to get dead today. And I assume you want this, Mr. Tucker, alive?”
“You think we’re joking,” said Marshall.
“Tisk, tisk, you see Ms. Bishop (pointing), she’s my boss, I’m but a cook’s helper, she’s the kitchen manager, and note she is armed, and on the roof, snipers (pointing), to your left and behind, and, the right… so, you have a decision to make, do so with care.”
“We have your daughter and granddaughter. You want to see them again, right?”
I cock my second pistol, re-aim the first.
“Calm down Marshall, you got a name, like Jones.”
“Marshall Marshall.”
“Marshall Marshall, you’re kidding right? Anyway, I’m thinking, hell no. To start with, I have one small request.”
“We don’t negotiate,’ Marshall Marshall insisted.
“You see, supposedly, you have two or more of some family under arrest, so you leave a couple of young guns here and when we return, they get to go,” Jesse stated.
“Never gonna happen,” replied Marshall Marshall, “we have you daughter and granddaughter, remember,” yelling now.
“My daughter?”
“Well, again relax. You have options. We can go but we keep our weapons; and invite your number-one and number-two dismount and, hang out, have some breakfast, to be returned when we return… or you turn around and ride away; or turn this into an OK corral scenario and ruin everyone’s day.”
“I’ve about had enough of your lip,” Marshall replied.
“Question… how many notches on you gun? How many men have you placed in the ground? How many wives have lost their husband, children, their fathers because of you? You see, this was my family, my wife raped and beaten, children kidnapped. You wonder what kind of person am I, broken. My family today, look around, here we stand.”
“So… I can offer one more option. Fetch this family and the REGIONAL Governor. Bring them here and let’s talk. And if I may inquire, do you have a wife, sweetheart, wife and sweetheart, child/children, friends that will miss you cuz the wrong choice, or a careless action, and you’ll be terminated, as will your number two, that I promise, and surely missed by someone.”
“I have an option,” a smirk appears on the Marshall’s face. “I’ll let your daughter know where she stands in my special way, daughter like mother, get my drift, and your granddaughter will certainly pay a price.” The Marshall, lowers his weapon, pulls the reins to turn his horse and motion the deputies to retreat, when a shot rings out, echoes across the campus, his body slumps forward, a deputy to his right pulls his weapon around and attempts to engage, to the sound of a second shot, fired, hitting its intended mark. Two bodies fall to the ground, others are no longer interested in engaging in a lost cause, hands up.
The posse, surrounded by the Scout Teams, Jesse moving closer, ask, “Anyone see their miscalculation, their mistake? No one? Then you’re all idiots. Okay, now who is in command? No one?”
“Okay, I’ll keep this simple. Our Mortician will tend to the bodies respectfully. The Regional Governor has twenty-four hours to send someone to collect the bodies or we will respectfully cremate them. Finally, let the Regional Governor know we would like to meet him, or… I’m think-en her.
Turning to Addison, asked, “Why?”
“I don’t take to threats so well, and he’s touching no one, ever.”
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