The Directives (29 page)

“The candidates for town marshal are ready for you to begin the interviews, sir. We have them seated over at the school,” the Alliance coordinator informed Shane.

Turning to Bishop with a face full of helplessness, Shane shrugged and said, “No rest for the wicked. Any advice as to what I should be looking for in a lawman?”

Bishop grinned and shook his head, “No clue… but, if any of them are named Grim, I’d pass.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to be a general?” Terri asked, watching her husband check himself in the mirror for the tenth time.

Bishop grunted, flashing a shy smirk. “I haven’t earned that rank. Matter of fact, I probably haven’t earned the rank of captain.”

Terri couldn’t help herself; seeing Bishop in a vulnerable state was so rare. “How about Admiral Smarty Pants? Commodore Manly Man? Field Marshal Bishop? That’s it! Field Marshal Bishop! You could hang a ton of medals and ribbons across your chest like all those tin pan dictators used to do before the collapse.”

“Terri! Stop. Besides, I don’t think the Texas Rangers had such ranks. Captain was about it.”

Deciding she’d teased enough, she stepped beside him and toyed with the shoulder of his new jacket, her voice becoming low and sultry. “You know… I find a man in uniform incredibly sexy, regardless of his rank. After the ceremony, you could be Mark Anthony… I could be Cleopatra. You know, your butt looks great in those pants, Mark.”

Bishop looked down at his adoring wife and smiled. Formally taking a knee in front of her, he bowed his head and tried his best to quote Shakespeare, “Finish, good lady; the bright day is done, and we are for the dark. I love you, my queen.”

It was Terri’s turn to be embarrassed. Flushing red, she lifted his head with a hand at both cheeks and looked into his eyes. “I love you, too.”

He scooped her up in a blur, effortlessly carrying her to the nearby bed, ignoring her protests. Setting her down gently, he kissed her passionately, eventually pinning her to the mattress with his weight.

Terri responded to the embrace, but soon sensed an urgency building inside him. It wasn’t the time. “Bishop… Bishop… the ceremony. We can’t be late.”

Nuzzling her neck, he whispered, “They won’t mind waiting. The delay will be for a good cause. No one will blame me.”

“Bishop. Stop,” she giggled. “That tickles, and I have to get Hunter ready. Later, my love. I promise to be Cleopatra, and so much more - but later.”

He relented, raising off her with an expression that made it clear the decision wasn’t easy. “This is all such a farce,” he started, reluctantly returning to the mirror. “I don’t see the need for all this pomp and circumstance.”

Terri stood, straightening her dress and checking her hair in the mirror. “Oh, stop being such a spoilsport. Nick and the military guys believe they owe you a debt of gratitude. I think they feel a little guilty about doubting you over that massacre. Then what happened at Brighton just deepened their remorse. Smile, be happy and enjoy the festivities.”

“It just seems like a waste of resources. Instead of having a party, we should be out helping the rest of the state recover. We have a ton of work to do. Riley was just the beginning.”

Terri put her hands on her hips and tilted her head, a clear indication that she wanted to be taken seriously. “We’ve been through this a dozen times. The people in the remote areas want and need organization. Your little white lie in Riley worked, and it got everyone to thinking. Most people respect the Texas Rangers. We’ve already proved rolling into those towns with force doesn’t work. But the Rangers showing up… then folks might listen for a few minutes
before
they start shooting.”

Bishop frowned, not buying the argument. “So just give me a little tin star, and let’s get on with it. Why all the hoopla?”

Terri exhaled in frustration with his stubbornness. “We have to play the role. People desperately want to see their leaders succeeding. It shows progress and optimism, a chance at a better future. The ceremony today isn’t for you, my husband; it’s for them. While I love that wonderful humility of yours, now isn’t the time. The people need this acknowledgment of service and reward. They want you to be honored. They need to see good deeds are indeed valued and appreciated. Like it or not, we’re part of leadership, and we have to act like it.”

But Bishop didn’t like it. “Look, all I wanted to do is head back to the ranch and take another shot at a garden. Mr. Beltran said he’d give us a few head of cattle in trade. We could start a herd. I could play with Hunter in the evenings, and maybe even start gathering the materials to build a proper house. We’ve done our part. We’ve helped as much as anyone with the recovery. I’ve even got the patched up holes in my body to prove it,” he protested, gesturing at his injuries.

She moved close to him again, standing on her tiptoes and kissing his cheek. “I share the same dream with you, but we’re committed. You should know as well as anyone that this… everything we’ve worked for… could all go south on a moment’s notice. There’s so much left to be done. I promise, swear on my mother’s grave, that I’ll step down, and we’ll retire to the ranch as soon as I see the recovery sustaining itself.”

Bishop knew the sincerity of her pledge, but doubted the job would ever be finished. That, however, was a discussion for another day.

After Bishop and Grim had returned from Riley, word of Bishop’s antics as an imposter-lawman had spread like wildfire. It had been Nick who raised the concept of reconstituting the infamous Texas Rangers.

“It’s perfect! Back in the old days, they were more like a paramilitary operation – part lawmen, part militia. Sheriff Watts has his hands full as it is. We need every single trained policeman we can find to reestablish rule of law in the major cities. El Paso alone is proving a challenge, and order needs to be standard throughout Alliance territory, so a unit of Rangers sounds like one hell of an idea.”

So the council decided to form a new organization, roughly along the lines of the old Rangers. Bishop, despite his protests, was nominated and confirmed as the first man to be sworn in.

Bishop and his family emerged from their room at the Manor, dressed to the tee and greeting everyone with a smile. Someone had pulled a large flatbed semi-trailer in front of the famous hotel, the stage adorned with a public address system and several rows of chairs for the attending dignitaries.

Emerging from the lobby, Bishop was amazed at the number of spectators lining Main Street. As far as he could see in any direction, friendly faces, Western hats, and toothy grins packed any open spot with a view of the stage. Turning to Terri, he whispered, “Look at all these people… Pete must be running a special today on his best moonshine.”

Butter and Slim were suddenly at their side, ushering Bishop, Terri, and Hunter through the tightly packed throng and making sure they reached the stairs without incident. As Bishop appeared on stage, he paused for a moment, holding up Hunter and trying to get him to wave to the crowd. A hardy cheer rose up, several folks clapping and whistling.

When Terri was at his side, Bishop leaned over and said, “They love Hunter. Listen to them clap and whistle. I told you he was a special boy.”

Terri leaned back, and without breaking her smile, said, “Stop it, Bishop, or I’ll kick your ass right here in front of half the Alliance.”

“Now that spectacle would draw a standing ovation,” he grinned.

The family was guided to a pair of seats, Hunter taking his favorite position aboard his father’s knee. Soon they were joined by Nick and Diana, Bishop’s best friend taking the folding chair next to the new Ranger.

“All I did was tell a little kid an innocent white lie, and now look what’s happened,” he complained to Nick. “Now, I’ll be obligated to do an honest day’s work every so often.”

Laughing, the big man replied, “No good deed goes unpunished, my friend. Besides, deep down inside, you know this is a great idea. People respect the Rangers, and from what you’ve run into along the way, I’d say that respect will go a long way.”

Before Bishop could respond, General Owens appeared onstage, quickly followed by Pete, Betty and the entire Alliance Council. Pete, being the elected mayor of Meraton, took the podium first.

“Ladies and gentlemen, my friends, and fellow Texans,” began Pete, “It is with great pride and confidence that I attend this ceremony today. Not only are we honoring one of our own, but also officially announcing what I believe will be an important step toward the recovery of our great state, perhaps a new nation.”

A rousing round of applause followed the proclamation, Pete turning to wink at Bishop while he waited for the outbreak to die down. “Most of you know Terri’s husband, Bishop,” he began, a rolling laugh billowing from the gathering. “Many of you have fought beside him, worked with him, and know him personally. Most of you are well aware that he has performed beyond the call of duty, sacrificing himself for the greater good of our community. There are more than a few citizens of the Alliance who owe their lives to the man seated behind me.”

Again, clapping hands, cheers, and shouts of encouragement erupted from the audience. “So without further ado, it is my great pleasure to introduce Diana Brown, Alpha’s mayor and council representative. Miss Brown.”

Pete stepped back, giving Diana center stage. After a quick tidying of her papers, Diana gazed across the throng and smiled broadly. “Good morning,” she greeted, the respect and admiration clear on practically every face.

“Before we make our presentation, I want to be the first to officially inform the citizens of the Alliance that the council has officially voted to reinstitute the Texas Rangers.”

This time the listeners’ reaction was loud, so boisterous that Hunter was startled, turning to glance at his dad as if to make sure everything was okay. Bishop snuggled his son close, reassuring and soothing until the noise died down.

“In addition to that wonderful news, it is my great honor to swear in the first of a new breed of Texas lawman. Please welcome Bishop, the first Captain of the new Texas Rangers.”

Handing Hunter over to his mother, Bishop stood and strode toward the podium. Nick rose as well, moving to Diana’s side. He raised the Bible, nodding for Bishop to place his right hand on the solemn book.

Diana began reading the sworn oath, the words identical to those spoken by all Rangers since the late 1800s. Bishop sincerely repeated the promise, the irony of it all not lost on the Texan.

He was echoing a historic vow that had been born of a necessity, the need to tame a wild territory that held such promise and potential – a region and people requiring a fair, steady, and sometimes heavy hand. History, as it is so prone to do, was indeed repeating itself. It was almost predictable in a way… today’s environment so similar to those early days when the world required such a specialized policing. The Rangers hadn’t always been perfect, but they had done the job.

Bishop finished with the closing, “So help me, God.”

While a chorus of support and clapping arose from the excited crowd, Diana fished a small box from her jacket pocket, producing a shiny silver badge, the traditional star-in-wheel design created from a Mexican silver coin.

She pinned the emblem on Bishop’s lapel and then joined with the supporters, clapping and smiling as Bishop waved his thanks to the gathering.

One gruff, old cowboy on the front row turned to his friend and shouted, “I’ll bet you a drink at Pete’s that Terri can still kick his ass… shiny badge or not.”

“No bet,” came the immediate response, the remark generating a round of hearty chuckles from those nearby.

Her red and black paint was spectacular, fitting shades of pigment that projected power, prestige, and ageless elegance. Her brass was polished to a mirror-like shine, a glimmering accent reminiscent of a beautiful woman adorned with jewelry of rare metal and precious stone.

At 85 tons, she could hardly be described as dainty or petite, yet her lines and pedigree stirred men’s hearts and fantasies. She was a classy dame, earning respect and deserving admiration.

Born in 1907 at the Baldwin Locomotive works, the Texas Star was far from the youngest of her breed. Despite the years, immeasurable miles, and countless tons of freight, the decline of man had extended the refined lady a new lease on life.