Tyranny (22 page)

“T
hat was a gutsy move, Ms. Stephens,” Colonel Atkinson said to Miranda. “That fed could have arrested you.”

“He could have tried,” Miranda said.

Kyle had to grin at that. They were back at G. W.'s house, sitting around the table in the kitchen eating a belated breakfast and drinking coffee. Miranda and Stella were at opposite ends of the table, keeping a discreet distance from each other but otherwise being cordial.

“I remember how come I've heard of you,” Kyle said to the colonel. “You were involved in that prison riot a while back. What was the place called? Hell's Gate?”

“That's right, but it wasn't exactly a riot,” Atkinson said. “It was a terrorist attack that the federal government did nothing to deal with. They left it up to state forces to take care of the problem.” Atkinson sipped his coffee and added, “In fact, there's pretty good evidence that some members of the federal government helped instigate the whole thing.”

“Good Lord!” Barton Devlin exclaimed. “You can't be serious. The federal government would . . . would never cooperate with Islamic terrorists! That's insane!”

Quietly, Atkinson said, “Yes, it would be insane for our own government to do that . . . unless the people running the country at the highest levels actually hate America and everything it stands for and would like to destroy it.”

As Devlin sputtered, the colonel added, “You can't elect people who promise to transform America and then be surprised when they try to do it. We've been dealing with that for a couple of decades now . . . and God help us, they're winning more than they're losing.”

“Not here,” G.W. snapped. “Not in Texas.”

“Not yet,” Atkinson acknowledged. “And they'll never succeed in turning Texas into the sort of socialist state they want without spilling a lot of blood on both sides.” He smiled. “Who knows? Maybe we'll beat 'em.”

An air of gloom settled over the table momentarily. Devlin broke it by asking, “Is all this you're saying really true, Colonel Atkinson?”

“About the federal government being riddled with people whose real goal is to bring the country to its knees? I believe it is, Mr. Devlin. I hate to say it, but with all my heart, I believe it. I've seen too much evidence proving it.”

Devlin took a deep breath and said, “Then someone has to stop them. We have to stop them. We have to fight them.”

G.W. grinned and reached over to slap the former IRS agent on the back.

“Never thought I'd say this to somebody who used to be in your line of work, Bart, but I like the way you think.”

“Well, I . . . I believe maybe I actually
am
thinking for the first time in ages. Maybe ever.”

“So what do we do now?” Kyle asked. “You know Grayson's not going to back down.”

G.W. shrugged and said, “There's not much we can do except keep on with what we've been doin'. I'm not lettin' that varmint on my ranch.”

“He's going to bring back armed agents,” Miranda said worriedly.

“They'll be well-armed, too,” Atkinson said. “The federal agencies and bureaus have been militarizing themselves for years now, stockpiling weapons and ammunition and assault vehicles. They're almost as prepared to go to war as the real military.” He paused. “The big difference is that they've been getting ready to go to war against American citizens, instead of foreign enemies. This may be the first real test of that.”

“So you're saying people are going to be hurt or killed,” Miranda said.

Atkinson said, “I'm sure someone as well-educated as you are has to have run across the quote about the tree of liberty and the blood of patriots, Ms. Stephens.”

That made everyone around the table fall silent again. While they were sitting there, one of the men who had showed up to back G.W. came into the kitchen and said, “More folks from town are out there, Mr. Brannock.”

G.W. scraped his chair back.

“Reckon I'd better go talk to 'em.”

Kyle got up, too, and said, “I'll come with you.”

“Why don't we all go?” Atkinson suggested.

G. W. led the way onto the front porch. A group of people stood in front of the house, including Chief of Police Ernie Rodriguez and several of his officers.

“Ernie, what are you doing here?” G.W. asked. “What if there's a crime wave in Sierra Lobo?”

Ernie grinned and said, “The only real crime in these parts right now is what's happening out here. Grand larceny, if you ask me. That's what it'll be if the government succeeds in stealing your ranch, G.W.”

“I agree with you about that, but you've got a duty to the folks in town you work for. You don't have any legal jurisdiction out here, either. You'll just get yourself in trouble if you take on the feds.”

“How about Bill Jacobs?” Ernie asked. “I talked to him on the phone earlier. He has jurisdiction in the county, and he's thinking about coming out and making a stand with you.”

“I'd rather he didn't. In fact,” G.W. said, “I sort of wish everybody would just go home!”

Most of the people within earshot frowned, including Kyle. He said, “I don't think you really mean that, G.W.”

“Yeah, I do,” G.W. insisted, “but probably not for the reason you're thinkin'. I'm touched by the way so many folks want to take my side in this. I appreciate it, I really do. But after listenin' to the things the colonel had to say, I'm startin' to worry that too many innocent people are gonna be hurt.”

“You're afraid there's going to be a bloodbath, like Grayson threatened.”

G.W. grimaced and said, “The more I talk to that man, the less I'd put past him. There's just no tellin' what he might do or who he might hurt in order to get his way.”

Atkinson said, “I think you're right about that, Mr. Brannock, but we're all in agreement that Grayson and the federal government have to be stopped. As a matter of fact, Governor Delgado didn't mention this when she was talking to you yesterday, but she got her hands on a copy of that so-called Spanish land grant, and she's got every expert who works in the state archives going over it, along with some pretty high-powered professors from the university. If it's a phony, they'll be able to prove it.”

“That's exactly what I wanted to do,” Miranda said.

Atkinson nodded and said, “Maria got the idea from the message you left for her, Ms. Stephens. No offense, but she's got a little more clout when it comes to things like this, so she went ahead.”

“No offense taken,” Miranda assured him. “The sooner and the more definitively we prove that the government is lying about the land grant, the better.”

G.W. said, “Could be Grayson's bosses have gotten wind of what the governor's doin', and they're afraid the whole thing's about to be exposed and blow up in their faces. That's why they've hurried him up. They figure that once they've gotten me out of here, they won't ever have to give up the ranch, no matter what comes out about the whole land grant thing.” He ran a thumbnail along his jawline and frowned. “But that still leaves one mighty troublin' question. . . .”

“Why do they want this ranch so bad in the first place?” Kyle said.

None of the others had an answer.

K
yle really expected Slade Grayson to return with armed agents and try once again to take possession of the ranch that day, but by sundown there had been no sign of the man or any of his Bureau of Land Management cohorts.

The cameramen and technicians from the news crews remained on the ranch with their vans and satellite uplinks, but the on-camera talent all went back to Sierra Lobo for the night. The motel rooms there were nothing fancy, but they beat sleeping in a van.

Ernie Rodriguez and his police officers returned to Sierra Lobo as well, once G. W. persuaded them that they might be needed more back in town. Many of the other locals had returned home, too, as had some of the people who had come in from nearby towns.

Everyone promised to be back the next morning, but Kyle suspected that some of them wouldn't be. It was easy for people to get all worked up about something they regarded as injustice, but no matter how sincere they were in their feelings, it was difficult to maintain that sort of fervor.

Stella Lopez was one of the townspeople who remained on the ranch. Kyle worried that her presence might cause some friction with Miranda, but on the contrary, the two women seemed to warm up to each other slightly as the day went on. They had something in common, after all—Kyle.

And when he saw them with their heads together, talking quietly, that
really
worried him. If she wanted to, Stella could probably tell Miranda some things that would lower her opinion of him.

Whatever had been between him and Stella was years in the past, though, Kyle told himself. He'd been a different person then. Surely Miranda would be able to see that and understand that he had changed.

What he really wished, more than anything else, was that both Miranda and Stella would go back to town where they would be safe. Even though Grayson seemed to be taking his time about returning, he would be back sooner or later, and he would bring more trouble with him than ever before. Kyle was certain of that.

In fact, he wished all the men who had brought their wives and children with them would leave. He understood what G.W. had been talking about. No matter how much G.W. loved the ranch, he didn't want the blood of innocents on his hands.

Kyle loved the place, too, now more than ever after spending this time here with G.W., and he felt the same way. He would die to defend it, but he wasn't sure anyone else should.

During the afternoon, Colonel Thomas Atkinson had checked in with Governor Delgado by phone, then told the others that she didn't have any news to report on the effort to uncover the truth about the land grant.

“She wants me to fly back to Austin to brief her in person on the situation here, though,” he'd told the others.

“There's nothing else she can do to help us, is there?” Miranda asked.

“Oh, you never know. Maria's a clever lady. No telling what she might come up with.”

A short time after that, Atkinson had chomped down on a cigar, climbed back into the helicopter, and nodded to the pilot to crank up the whirlybird. With the usual racket and cloud of dust, the helicopter rose into the air and flew off to the east, rapidly disappearing into the blue sky.

Now night had settled down over the West Texas landscape, bringing with it a deceptive peace and quiet that Kyle knew could be shattered at any time, with no warning.

He was standing on the front porch, gazing out at the darkness, when he heard a soft step behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see Miranda standing there. The two of them were alone on the porch, so when she moved closer to him, Kyle put his arms around her and kissed her again. She responded by putting her arms around his neck.

After a moment, he drew back a little and said, “I wish all this trouble would go away so you and I could spend a lot more time getting to know each other.”

“And doing this,” Miranda said.

“Definitely and doing this,” he agreed with a grin.

“Well,” she said, “it'll be over sooner or later, and with any luck we won't both be in prison or dead.”

Kyle's forehead creased. He said, “If you were trying to lighten the mood, I'd say you failed.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” She sighed. “But we have to be realistic. This could end badly. For G.W., for you and me . . . for everybody.”

“That's true. But I guess there have never been any guarantees in life, have there? And people still . . . fall in love anyway.”

“Yes,” Miranda whispered. “In the worst possible circumstances . . . people still fall in love.”

He bent his head down and kissed her again, and they were both so caught up in each other that neither of them noticed the shadowy form moving from the corner of the house toward the road leading to the gate.

 

 

The crowd at the fence had remained fairly large most of the day, but as evening approached more of the defenders had gone back to the ranch headquarters to be with their families. Half a dozen men remained on guard at the gate, all of them armed. If anyone approached, they would alert the others at the ranch house by phone.

G.W. Brannock walked warily as he approached the gate. He didn't want to startle any of the sentries. They weren't professionals; there was no telling what they might do if they got spooked. So when he was close enough, Brannock called, “Howdy, boys! It's just me.”

A man Brannock recognized as Thad Bowman came up to him and asked, “Is anything wrong, sir? I mean, beyond the obvious?”

“Nope, I just wanted to come out here and spend a little time with you fellas. You've all gone out of your way to give me a hand, and I appreciate it.”

“You're welcome, Mr. Brannock,” another man said as he approached. “It's an honor for us to help you.”

A third man came up and said, “It's not often everyday folks like us get to take a stand and do something as important as this. I sort of feel like . . . well, like the freedom of the whole country might be at stake here.”

“That's right,” Bowman said. “If the government can get away with stealing your ranch from you, what will they try next? Who will they come after and try to ruin?”

“Somebody who's not a Democrat, you can bet on that!” another man responded with a laugh. The rest of them joined in. Even Brannock chuckled.

He said, “You know, when I was a young man, I never put much stock in which political party somebody belonged to. The way I figured, there were good and bad folks and good and bad ideas on both sides. That's the way it ought to be. Maybe that's the way it really was back then, or maybe I just didn't know any better. But over the past forty or fifty years, it's sure changed. There might still be a few good people over there on the other side, but they're fightin' for bad ideas. Evil ideas that are gonna wind up ruinin' this country. I don't care how misguided you are, when you set out to destroy America, you've got to be stopped.”

“Amen,” several of the men said.

Brannock grinned and said, “Well, I didn't mean to go to preachin'. It's liable to be pretty chilly out here by mornin'. Might be a good idea to build a little fire. Plenty of mesquite around to use for firewood.”

It wasn't long before the men had a small but cheerful blaze going at the side of the road. As they hunkered around it, including Brannock, one of the men said, “You know, this is sort of like the old days, like the night before a battle like Gettysburg or Bull Run, and we're sitting here with General Lee himself.”

Brannock laughed and said, “Lord, don't go comparin' me to Robert E. Lee. I never commanded an army in my life, or much of anything else. Never had any ambition to. But I've studied enough history to know that if there's a battle, I sure hope it turns out more like Bull Run for our side. The damn Yankees won at Gettysburg!”

 

 

Despite their determination to remain vigilant, by the wee hours of the morning all the guards were stretched out on the ground, asleep. Brannock still sat beside what was left of the fire, which had burned down to embers. He remained there all night, his mind full of thoughts.

Because of that, he was awake and alert when vehicles running without lights slid to a stop on the highway outside the gate. Brannock heard the hiss of their broad tires on asphalt as they approached. He reached over, picked up a shotgun one of the sleeping men had set aside before dozing off, and rolled away from the embers into deeper shadows.

He moved through the blackness like a phantom as he went toward the gate, sticking to the low brush that provided a little cover. A dozen armored vehicles had stopped on the shoulder of the highway. Men were getting out quietly. Brannock felt confident that Slade Grayson was among them.

He slipped his cell phone from his pocket and turned so that his body would shield the glow of the screen as he turned it on. The phone came on, all right, but it blinked
NO SERVICE
at him.

Brannock frowned. That didn't make any sense. Sure, West Texas was isolated, but cell service in this area was good. He'd never had any trouble making calls before.

Suddenly, he had a hunch that none of the phones belonging to the other men would work, either. With the resources of the government at his beck and call, Grayson would have been able to persuade the carriers in this area to shut down their towers and kill all the service. He wouldn't want civilian calls going in or out.

Knock out the enemy's communications, Brannock thought, and you've taken a vital step in winning a battle.

But not the only step, he thought. Not by a long shot.

Several men were approaching the gate. Brannock was close enough to hear one of them give a whispered order.

“Blow the damned thing down.”

That was Grayson's voice. Brannock was able to tell which of the shadowy figures it belonged to, so he leveled the shotgun at that one as he stepped into the open and said in a loud, clear voice, “The only thing that's gonna get blown down is you, Grayson, if you don't back off.”