Tyranny (21 page)

T
here were other ways onto the ranch besides the main gate where the road to the house turned off from the highway. The area up in the mountains wasn't even fenced. Kyle thought it was unlikely the government agents would try to come in that way, but G.W. had sent some of the hands up there on horseback to patrol the area anyway.

Kyle's instincts told him that Slade Grayson would want the inevitable confrontation to take place at the gate, though. That would provide the maximum amount of drama and also would be easier for the news media to cover.

Several cameramen were already out here tonight, just waiting like the rest of them. Kyle was confident that if anything happened, they would call the reporters in the vans parked at the ranch headquarters, who would then race out to the gate to cover the event as if they had been there all along.

He and Miranda sat in the back of G.W.'s pickup on some folded blankets that Kyle had thrown in for this purpose. There was another blanket that they could spread over them if it got too chilly before morning, which was possible at this elevation and in this dry climate. So far, though, he was quite comfortable.

A dozen cars and pickups were parked along the road and near the fence. Men sat in the cars or stretched out in the backs of the pickups to doze as they waited for trouble to arrive.

When Kyle and Miranda had gotten there, Kyle had gone around and talked to all the men, making sure they understood that G.W. didn't want any shooting unless it absolutely couldn't be avoided.

He had also checked to be certain that nobody had any kids out here at the gate. All the children were safe back at the ranch headquarters.

As he and Miranda sat in the back of the pickup, they talked quietly about G.W.'s troubles at first, but after everything they had been through the past week, it didn't take long to exhaust that subject.

Then Kyle said, “You know, I don't know much about you, Miranda. You're G.W.'s lawyer, and I can tell from the way you talk that you're not from around here, but that's about it.”

“You can tell that, can you?” she asked.

“Well, yeah. I'm pretty sure you're not a Yankee, anyway. But I don't know where in the South you're from.”

“Florida,” she said. “I grew up in the Panhandle there, in a little fishing and tourist town on the Gulf. What else can you figure out about me?”

Kyle laughed and said, “I never claimed to be a detective. But I'm pretty sure you're not married.”

“Oh? What makes you think that?”

He felt a moment of alarm. If she had a husband, he didn't need to be feeling about her the way he did.

“You don't wear a wedding ring,” he said.

“Some women don't.”

“That's true, I guess. But you've never mentioned having a husband. Seems like as much as we've talked, you would have.”

“Maybe the subject just never came up.”

“Well . . . uh . . .”

As if she took pity on him, she laughed and said, “I'm just messing with you, Kyle. I'm not married. Never have been. In fact, me
not
being married is why I'm in Texas right now.”

“How's that?” he asked.

“I was engaged, back there in Florida. High school romance that lasted all the way through college and law school. But he met somebody else. Maybe he'd gotten tired of me because we were together for so long, or maybe he just thought the two of them were a better match. Anyway, he backed out a month before the wedding.”

“Or maybe he was just a damned fool,” Kyle said with some heat in his voice. “That's what it sounds like to me.”

“Maybe so. I can't really argue with that. But after that happened, I didn't feel like staying around there where there were so many memories of all our time together. So I packed up and left. Headed west until I got to Sierra Lobo.”

“What made you stop there?”

She looked over at him and said, “I'm starting to think it was fate.”

Their heads were close together, and her blond hair shone silvery in the moonlight. Kyle didn't think about what he was doing. He just let his instincts take over, and his mouth found hers as he slid an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer.

His heart hammered in his chest as he kissed her, and he held her close enough that he could feel hers beating, too. Her lips tasted incredible. He thought that he could sit here like this with her all night, until the sun rose in the morning.

But something made him pull back, and he said quietly, “Look, Miranda, I'm sorry. You deserve to be with somebody better than me—”

“Oh, shut up,” she said as she slipped her hand up to the back of his neck. She held him there as she pressed her mouth to his again. She pulled away just enough to whisper, “I'm right where I want to be.”

So was Kyle, and they stayed there in each other's arms until she dozed off with her head resting on his shoulder and he pulled the extra blanket over her so she wouldn't get cold.

They were still there like that in the morning when trouble arrived with the dawn.

S
houts from the men standing along the fence, watching the highway where it came from town, roused Kyle from sleep.

His left arm was numb from the weight of Miranda leaning against it as she slept. He eased himself out from under her as gently as he could, but the movement was still enough to wake her as well.

“What is it?” she asked as she sat up and pushed the hair back out of her face.

“Don't know,” Kyle said. He flexed his arm a couple of times to get some feeling back into it, then stood up, put a hand on the side of the pickup bed, and vaulted over it to the ground. He went to the tailgate and lowered it so Miranda could climb out.

Men were gathering along the fence, and several of them were holding rifles or shotguns. That worried Kyle, but he didn't see what he could do about it other than warn them not to overreact. He hurried along the fence doing so, then asked one of them, “What's going on?”

“Headlights coming fast from the direction of town,” the man replied. Kyle recognized him as one of the members of the Texas Coalition for Smaller Government. “Cars have been going by every now and then all night without stopping, but this one seems different.”

Kyle agreed. The sun hadn't quite peeked over the eastern horizon, so it was still dark enough for the approaching headlights to be seen. Whoever was driving was in a hurry.

Miranda came up beside Kyle. He looked over at her, took the pickup keys from his pocket, and pressed them into her hand.

“Go back to the house and get G.W.,” he told her.

“You're just trying to get me out of the way because you think it might be dangerous,” she objected. “I can call G.W. and tell him to get out here.”

“We've got his pickup, remember?”

“There are plenty of other vehicles there. He can get a ride with somebody.”

“Just go, all right?”

She looked at him with narrowed, angry eyes and said, “All right, but later we're going to have a talk about this. I don't like being shunted aside.”

“Fine,” he said. “We'll talk about it later.”

She glared at him for a second longer, then turned and walked quickly toward the pickup.

Kyle relaxed a little when she was on her way back to the ranch house . . . but not much.

Trouble was still coming fast.

Of course, maybe it was just somebody in a hurry to be somewhere else, he thought. They would all feel a little foolish if the vehicle streaked on past and disappeared into the new morning without ever slowing down.

That wasn't what happened. Brakes squealed as the car came closer to the gate. Kyle recognized the old rattletrap as its driver slowed down to turn off the highway.

He knew who was at the wheel, too. It was easy to recognize Stella Lopez as she brought the old car to a stop, threw the door open, and leaped out. In cut-off jean shorts and a tank top, she was spectacular.

“Let me in,” she told the men at the gate, most of whom had momentarily forgotten about politics and oppressive governments at the breathtaking sight of Stella dressed like that.

They remembered why they were here as she went on, saying, “Those government guys, they're on the way.”

“Open the gate,” Kyle told the men. While they were unfastening the chain one of them had looped around the gate and one of the posts, he asked Stella, “How do you know about that?”

“That's all everybody in town is talking about,” she said. “I was working the early shift at the store, and quite a few people came in to get coffee. They said they were gonna come out here and back up your grandfather. But then one of the guys from the BLM—the big, dumb-looking one—he came in, too, and bought a dozen coffees to take back over to the motel with him. He wouldn't be doing that unless they were getting ready to come out here, would he?”

“Not likely,” Kyle admitted. “Did you just run off and leave the store unattended?”

“No, I called Mr. Charlton and told him what was going on. He told me to lock up and let you know. So that's what I did. I got here as fast as I could. Some of the people from town, they'll probably be along, too, but they may not beat the government men out here.”

“More headlights coming!” one of the men along the fence called excitedly.

“Get your car inside so we can lock up again,” Kyle told Stella. He touched her arm to stop her as she started to turn away. “And thanks for coming to warn us.”

“That's okay,” she said with a dazzling smile. “I know there's nothing between us anymore. You're in love with that lawyer lady.”

“Hey—”

“Oh, don't bother arguing. Everybody in Sierra Lobo knows about it. They've seen the way you look at her. But I still think you're a good guy, and I
know
G.W. is. We're not gonna let the government steal his land.”

“No, we're not,” Kyle agreed.

Stella drove onto the ranch, and the men swung the gate closed behind her and fastened the lock on the chain again. If any more of the townspeople showed up in time, they could come in, too. Otherwise the gate was staying locked.

The upper edge of the sun appeared, an orange hemisphere that spilled its garish light across the landscape. It was bright enough that the headlights of the approaching vehicles were washed out almost to the point of disappearing, but the SUVs themselves were visible in the growing light.

There were three of them, Kyle noted. Grayson had called in some reinforcements. Even so, there couldn't be enough men in the SUVs to overpower the fifty or so defenders gathered at the gate. Stella had said Woodrow Todd bought a dozen cups of coffee. That was a reasonable number of men to be in the vehicles.

“Keep those guns pointed at the ground,” Kyle called to the men. “We're here to talk, if they'll listen to reason.”

“They're from the government,” one of the men said scornfully. “Do you really think they're gonna be reasonable?”

“We can hope,” Kyle said under his breath. He turned to Stella, who had gotten out of her car again, and told her, “Go on up to the ranch house.”

She gave a defiant toss of her head that threw her long black hair back.

“And miss all the excitement? No way!”

“Then at least stay back behind the cars and trucks. Please. I don't want you getting shot full of holes.”

“You still got some feelings for me, don't you? For old time's sake?”

“Of course, I do,” Kyle said. “Now go.”

Stella moved behind some of the parked vehicles. Kyle didn't really expect her to stay there if trouble broke out, but he hoped she would.

The men crowded up to the gate and along the fence were visibly tense as the SUVs slowed and then stopped along the side of the highway. The vehicles were black and their windows were tinted, so Kyle couldn't see into them.

For a long moment, nothing happened. It was like the SUVs didn't have anybody in them, Kyle thought crazily. Like they were sentient beings that had come out here on their own.

Then the front passenger door of the first one opened, and Slade Grayson stepped out, complete with sunglasses, expensive suit, arrogant demeanor, and everything else about him that was so infuriating.

G
rayson stood there next to the SUV, blatantly posing for the news cameras shooting from the other side of the fence.

Kyle heard engines and looked over his shoulder to see several vehicles headed his way from the ranch headquarters. Some of them were news vans, but he spotted G.W.'s pickup, too. He hoped that Miranda had stayed behind at the ranch house, but then he saw her in the passenger seat as G.W. drove. The fact that she had returned to the site of confrontation with the government surprised him not one little bit.

Grayson took off his sunglasses and swaggered forward, coming straight toward the gate. He stopped about fifteen feet away and looked at Kyle over the bars of iron pipe.

The government man's face was smooth and unperturbed. It didn't seem to bother him that fifty obviously angry men, some of them armed, stood on the other side of the fence. He said to Kyle, “You know why we're here, Brannock. Open up.”

Behind Grayson, the other doors on the SUVs had opened, and men climbed out. Kyle saw Finley and Todd, both of whom looked like they would have rather been somewhere else. The other men all looked similar to Grayson in that they wore suits and sunglasses. Hired muscle here to intimidate the ranch's defenders, thought Kyle.

“This is private property, Grayson,” Kyle said. “If you set foot on it, you'll be trespassing.”

Grayson shook his head and said, “We both know better than that. I have an emergency injunction giving possession of this ranch to the Bureau of Land Management. This is now federal property.”

The crowd along the fence opened to let G.W. through. He stepped up beside Kyle and said, “That's a damned lie, mister, and you know it. This is Brannock range and has been for more than a century.”

Kyle glanced around and saw Miranda hanging back a little. Barton Devlin was with her, looking upset but very interested in what was going on.

Grayson spotted the former IRS agent, too. He exclaimed, “Devlin! Is that really you? You're supposed to be back in Washington.” A wolfish smile spread across his face. “Damn, Barton, you haven't gone over to the enemy, have you? I didn't think you had enough guts to do that.”

Devlin looked extremely nervous as he glanced toward the news crews. Kyle knew he had wanted to stay out of this, but evidently something was compelling him to speak up despite his fear.

Maybe years of working for the government hadn't completely eroded his sense of right and wrong.

“American citizens are
not
our enemies, Grayson,” Devlin said.

“They are if they oppose the will of the government,” Grayson snapped. “They're worse than that. They're traitors.”

“Damn you,” G.W. said. “You can't call me that.”

“I just did, old man,” Grayson replied with a sneer. “Now, are you gonna unfasten that chain, or do I have my men get the bolt cutters?”

All along the fence, the defenders stiffened at that threat. Rifle and shotgun barrels came up a little higher.

“Blast it, this is wrong!” Devlin said in the tense silence. “I know the IRS case against this man was false, and I'm starting to think the BLM claim may be as well!”

“You're a damned fool,” Grayson told him. “The press is here, and you've just gone on record as supporting these . . . these domestic terrorists. You know you just threw away your career, don't you, Devlin?”

“Maybe it wasn't a career worth having.”

Grayson shook his head in dismissal, as if Devlin wasn't worth bothering with. He turned back to G.W. and Kyle and said, “What's it gonna be? Do you open up, or do we arrest you for being in violation of federal law?”

Before either of the Brannocks could respond, a new sound intruded on the morning air. The
whup-whup-whup
made everyone turn to look as it steadily grew louder.

The helicopter seemed to fly out of the sun. It swooped over the vehicles and people on both sides of the fence, made a circle, and then began to descend about a hundred yards inside the ranch. The downdraft from its rotors kicked up a huge cloud of dust.

“What the hell?” G.W. muttered.

The chopper settled to the ground, barely visible because of the dust that surrounded it. But as that cloud began to settle, everyone saw a man climb out of the passenger seat and start toward them. He was tall and lean, dressed in camo fatigues, and also wore sunglasses. His short, curly fair hair was starting to turn gray, and his close-cropped beard was the same shade.

Several of the ranch's defenders swung up rifles and shotguns to cover him. He never broke stride as he made a curt gesture and barked in an unmistakable tone of command, “Put those guns down, boys. I'm just here to observe.”

G. W. stepped forward to meet the newcomer. He said, “Who in blazes are you, mister?”

The man stopped to meet G.W.'s level stare and said, “Colonel Thomas Atkinson, retired, sir.” He put out his right hand. “It's an honor and a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Brannock. Governor Delgado sent me.”

Something was vaguely familiar about Atkinson's name, thought Kyle, but he couldn't place it. Clearly, though, the man wasn't from the federal government, and that was a mark in his favor.

G.W.'s instincts must have told him him that Atkinson was all right, because he didn't hesitate in gripping the newcomer's hand. He said, “If that fine lady sent you, then you're welcome on my ranch, colonel.”

From the other side of the fence, Grayson shouted, “This isn't your ranch, damn it! It belongs to the federal government, old man!”

Kyle smiled. Grayson didn't like it that the cameras had turned away from him and were pointing toward the impressive figure of Colonel Atkinson now.

Grayson went on. “The state of Texas doesn't have any jurisdiction here, and the governor knows it!”

“Didn't say that it does,” Atkinson drawled. He took a stub of a cigar from his shirt pocket, stuck it in the corner of his mouth, and clamped his teeth on it, leaving it unlit. “Like I said, I'm just here to observe.”

Grayson continued to fume. He said, “I want this gate open
right now!”

Miranda stepped up to it. Kyle didn't like her getting in the middle of the confrontation, but he knew there was nothing he could do about it.

“I'm Mr. Brannock's legal counsel, Mr. Grayson,” she said, “and if you have an injunction to serve, I have a right to see it.”

Grayson's lip curled. He said, “All right, blondie.” He half-turned and snapped his fingers. Warren Finley hurried forward, carrying a document. Grayson took it from Finley and extended it through the bars to Miranda. “Go ahead and look at it. You'll see that it's signed by a federal judge.”

Miranda took the injunction, then reached inside the lightweight jacket she wore and brought out a folded paper.

“And I have here a temporary restraining order signed by a judge blocking any attempt by the federal government to take possession of my client's lawful property.”

Grayson's eyes widened. Kyle was shocked by this development, too. Obviously, Miranda had been holding this trump card in reserve.

“Let me see that,” Grayson demanded.

“Of course,” Miranda said. She passed the document through the bars of the gate.

Grayson studied the paper for a couple of seconds, then snapped a finger against it and exclaimed, “This is signed by a damned justice of the peace!”

“A legally elected judicial official,” Miranda said.

“Federal law supersedes state and local law!”

“I suppose we'll have to let the courts work that out, won't we? In the meantime, until the case is heard and ruled on, you're not welcome on this property, and you have no right to force your way onto it. If you do, you'll be in violation of state statutes and county ordinances, and as an attorney and officer of the court, I'll place
you
under a citizen's arrest.”

As Grayson glared at her, clearly flabbergasted, Kyle had never liked and admired Miranda more.

Maybe Stella was right. Maybe he did love Miranda.

He could try to figure that out later. Right now there was a little matter of keeping Grayson from taking over the ranch....

Shaking with rage at the way he was being defied, Grayson crumpled the paper he held and flung it to the ground at his feet. Kyle was a little surprised he didn't stomp on it like a kid throwing a tantrum.

Miranda slid the federal injunction back through the gate and dropped it. It floated gently down to the ground.

“Open the gate,” Grayson said.

“No,” G.W. said. “This is my land.”

Grayson looked at the grim-faced defenders lined up along the fence and the cars and pickup blocking the dirt road. He rubbed a hand over his face, then put on his sunglasses and squared his shoulders.

“One more chance,” he said coldly. “Open up and relinquish this property, or I'll come back with armed federal agents.”

“This is my land,” G.W. said again. It was a simple, yet eloquent, statement.

“All right. You've made your choice. I gave you a chance to comply, Brannock. When I come back, you'll either open the gate . . . or there'll be a bloodbath here. And it'll be on your head, old man.”

With that, he turned, stalked toward the SUVs, and waved his men back into the vehicles. Finley and Todd looked relieved. The other agents were as expressionless as the automatons they resembled.

Once everyone was back in the SUVs, they turned around and started toward Sierra Lobo. The defenders along the fence seemed to all let out pent-up breaths.

But this wasn't over, thought Kyle.

Unfortunately, it might be just beginning.