Lionhearts (Denver Burning Book 5) Page 4

  “Michael will be fine,” Walt added. “He’s outside major danger zones, and he’s probably already making his way home. The kid loves to camp and hike—he’ll do just fine. Trying to search for him would be foolish.

  “But Tara, I am definitely worried about.”

  They were both silent for a moment, thinking about their younger daughter.

  “We’re okay here, aren’t we?” Sarah asked. “I mean, we’ve got enough produce, grain, hay, and beef to last as long we could want. Come winter, we’ll burn wood to stay warm. It’s a setback to older times, but we’ll make it.”

  Walt nodded. “No doubt a makeshift economy will get moving locally, based on barter. We can play an active role in that, thank goodness. Plenty of hard goods and livestock to trade for whatever we need that we don’t already have.”

  “But Tara isn’t safe,” Sarah said, bringing the conversation back to her fears for her daughter. “She’s out there alone in the city with no way to get home.”

  “Right. I don’t think she could travel on her own effectively. And we have no idea what conditions are like in Denver, but I’m guessing they’re not good. A city that size, without power… it’s only a matter of time before lawlessness breaks out, or disease, or fire. Or any number of other dangers. She shouldn’t be alone at a time like this. It’s just exactly what I worried about, why I wanted to check on our children the other day. She’s in danger, Sarah. And I’m just not sure what to do about it.”

  Sarah was quiet for a moment. The she squeezed his shoulder again. “You have to go get her, Walt. Go get our little girl.”

  “That’s six or seven hundred miles from here, honey!”

  “I know. But there’s nothing else for it. We can’t just wait for everything to come back together while our daughter’s in danger. Even if the power comes back, the cars won’t. She’s stranded permanently, and I can’t take it—I just can’t take it, Walt.”

  Slowly, Walt nodded. He’d been thinking about it for two days. But it wasn’t the kind of undertaking one could just leap into. Had they lived closer, he’d have already gone. But Denver was a very long way from the ranch. In a car, on good roads with plenty of gas, he could do it in one long day of driving. On foot, though, or even with a bicycle or a horse, it would take weeks. He’d already consulted his maps.

  Sarah and the kids could run the ranch on their own for some time, but he might not return from a trip like this for a few months, and in that time anything could happen. A fire could take everything they had. A single desperate traveler with violent intentions could threaten their safety. And there was always the lingering hope that the power would magically come back on the next day, or the next, and government authorities would announce initiatives to restore infrastructure and transportation, and all their problems would begin to evaporate.

  But he had to admit that was a forlorn hope, not something he could bank on. Honestly, it was a fantasy—even if some kind of communication and transportation network was established, they might never see Tara again. In a city like Denver, under conditions of lawlessness, one young lady like Tara could easily disappear forever and become just another name on a list of missing persons. With his daughter’s safety at stake, there just wasn’t much of a choice to be made. He had to go.

  He’d already started gathering gear in the barn, just to be ready for when he decided to leave. And he’d traced the route he wanted to take on his map. But he hadn’t told Sarah of his plans. He knew it would be hard for them to be apart for so long, without so much as a phone call or a letter to let each other know how they were doing. They hadn’t left each other’s sides since he had gotten out of the Army.

  “Take Liam with you,” Sarah said. “You’ll need his help.”

  Walt looked at her, surprised. “You’ll need him around here.”

  “No. We’ll manage, the girls and I. It’s out there that you’ll need manpower. There’s no telling what you’ll face, and I need you to come home to me. You’ll have a better chance with two of you together.”

  Walt considered it. He knew he could use the help of his son. A long-distance journey was hard enough with no one to share the time with, as he well knew from his time in the Army. The saying was that if you wanted to go fast, go alone, but if you wanted to go far, travel together. And this journey would be very, very far. If he sprained an ankle alone, that would be the end of both he and his daughter. There would be no one to go for help, no one to go on alone to get her. And there were a hundred other reasons that made it more likely for two good men to succeed where a solitary traveler might fall prey to man, beast, or nature itself.

  But those same reasons applied to Sarah at the ranch. He shook his head.

  “No. You’ll need him here. There’s the cattle, the work, so much to do to get ready for winter. You can’t do it all alone.”

  Sarah smiled. “I won’t be alone, Walt. Amy and Jess can be flighty at times, but they know when it’s time to work. And there are neighbors, good ones like the Travers and the Chamberlains. Then there are the women from church, and friends from town. There’s a whole community here I can draw on. But you out there, traveling through cities and along roads we don’t know the condition of… you’re the one I want to have help available. All I can send with you is my son.”

  Walt thought about it for a long time. Finally he hugged Sarah tight and nodded. They looked up at the stars for another hour before finally going to bed.

  The next morning he and Liam packed their horses. They each had a backpack as well, but the majority of their gear hung from their saddles. Walt took Spook, a hardy mare that he often rode around the ranch, and left their more muscular gelding, Banjo, for Liam to ride. Both horses would do well on the long journey. They left their other less stolid horse behind for Sarah to use if she needed it.

  They had enough food to get them ten days along the trail, or twenty if they had to stretch it. But Walt knew a thing or two about foraging and hunting, and it was wild berry season. He knew they’d be all right.

  They also had water filters so they could drink from streams along the way, and plenty of ammunition both for protection and hunting. Walt had his .44 revolver and his Winchester, and Liam was bringing one of the shotguns, a .22 rifle, and a 9mm handgun. They had knives, hatchets, matches, and clothing enough to get them as far as they needed to go.

  He hugged Sarah long and hard. Then he hugged Amy, told she and Jess to work hard and obey Sarah, and then he got into the saddle. After Liam had hugged his mother and received several pieces of earnest counsel, the two men rode away from the ranch down to the county road.

  Chapter 6: The Long Journey

  Father and son headed down the county road until it joined the highway, and followed that toward town. If there were any running vehicles or ways of communicating with Denver, they’d be in Bozeman, Walt knew. It was a hundred and fifty miles to Billings, and he had heard a rumor that all was not well in the larger city. He preferred to go south through the parks, and a stopover in the smaller town wouldn’t delay that route by more than a few hours.

  In Bozeman they asked around about transportation and communications. No one had any idea how to get a message to or from Denver; all the phones and computers were inoperable and the only radios that worked weren’t getting anything because no one seemed to be transmitting, aside from one rancher with an old ham radio a few miles away.

  Some of the people they talked to were despondent, some jittery. The post office superintendent, who was clearly suffering from a severe disruption in her coffee supply, told them that if they would carry some letters south for her she’d pay them for it whenever the city’s finances were restored. When she heard that they didn’t expect to be back for a couple of months and might not be in a position to stop by Bozeman anyway, she rescinded her offer and shut them out.

  A young man loitering outside a closed gas station begged them repeatedly for drugs of any kind, and Walt had to pull his revolver out before the guy
would leave them alone.

  They followed up on rumors that a farmer outside of town had a truck that ran, but when they knocked on his door he claimed it was a misunderstanding. “My truck is as dead as anybody else’s, and I wish people would stop bothering me about it,” the man told Walt. “Dick Harris was drunk when he claimed he saw me driving around, and even if I had a vehicle that ran, do you really think I’d lend it to a couple of strangers headed to Denver?”

  “I’d buy it from you,” Walt offered, still suspecting that the man was hiding something. There was no truck in his driveway, and Walt wondered if he’d hidden the precious vehicle in his barn. “I’ve got to get to my daughter as quickly as I can, no matter what it takes.”

  “Well, you got a long journey ahead of you, then,” the man said. “I can’t help you, and wouldn’t even if I could. You’re crazy. Now get on outta here.”

  It was useless to badger the man about it. A truck would shorten their trip considerably, assuming they could get fuel along the way from the other stopped cars, but it would also attract unwanted attention. There was a reason the man was hiding his vehicle, and Walt wasn’t eager to become the target of every desperate person they encountered for the rest of their journey.

  They headed back into Bozeman proper to see about some horseshoes and feed. Unfortunately it was another wasted hour; Walt’s favorite hardware store was boarded up tightly, and a sheriff’s deputy was standing outside turning people away. With his arms folded across his chest, sunglasses on, and a shiny badge on his shirt front, the man looked the very picture of authority.

  “Store’s closed until further notice,” he said by way of explanation when Walt approached. “If you have an urgent need for a tool or supplies, you can fill out an application down at City Hall.”

  There were several annoyed would-be customers standing around on the street outside the store, but the deputy wouldn’t offer any further details and demanded that Walt and his son move along without delay. As they crossed the street, Walt noticed two acquaintances deep in conversation under the shade of a curbside tree. They looked up and waved when they recognized Walt.

  He knew Bob Constantinas from a church function several months back. Neither had been personally involved in the event, but their wives had gotten them signed up to help direct traffic in the parking area, so they had spent the evening chatting about hunting, politics, and the beef industry in Montana. Walt didn't know Bob terribly well otherwise, but they had that simple connection.

  The other man was Terry Hayes, owner-manager of the local diner. Walt didn't like him much; Terry had been the target of a tax fraud investigation a few years earlier and the papers reported that he’d weaseled out of the consequences on a technical loophole. Walt hadn’t eaten at Terry’s establishment since.

  Bob and Terry paused in their conversation and shared a significant look between them before addressing Walt.

  "Well, hello, Walt," Bob said, holding out his hand. "Fancy seeing you in town this afternoon."

  Walt handed his reins to Liam and shook Bob's outstretched hand, then Terry's. "Looking for some feed, but apparently it’s all on lockdown. Sheriff’s orders!"

  "Yeah, that’s what we were just told," Terry said with a frustrated sneer. “Bunch of crap, if you ask me.”

  Bob looked Walt in the eye. "You know, Leonhardt, Terry and I were just talking about something you might be interested in."

  Terry nodded, again trading an eyebrows-raised look with Bob. "Walt, you've got some military experience, don't you?"

  "I do," Walt replied. "Can't say I'm sorry to have it behind me, though. Ranching is much better for my health."

  "You didn't like it in the Army?" Terry asked.

  Walt hedged. "I was proud to serve. But it's not easy on a man, or his family. By the time I decided it wasn't quite what I wanted out of life, I felt like I was too deep in to back out of my commitment."

  Bob nodded sagely. "I hear you. They ask sacrifices no man should have to give. They throw you around like you're a piece of a machine. You've got no rights in the military." Walt was about to follow that up with a more tempered response, but Bob continued. "And you hunt too, don't you, Walt?"

  "As much as anybody around here does," Walt replied, wondering where the line of questioning was going. The queries were innocent and sociable enough, but something about the men's tones made it feel like they were driving toward something.

  "What are your views on law and order?" Terry asked suddenly, staring at Walt intently.

  Walt was taken aback. "Uh, I'm for it," he said.

  Bob glanced over at the deputy across the street. He was too far away to hear them, but Bob kept an eye on the man.

  "But how about this taking over of the store? I mean, how far do we let the government go in regulating what a man can or can't do?" Terry pressed. "It’s not like they’ve proven themselves very useful lately, have they? That's what Bob and I have been talking over. The way the Feds have acted over the last few years, it's like we're all criminals living on their land, instead of the other way around. Now all their failed policies have come crashing down around them, and guess who’s left with the tab?"

  “Us!” Bob said with an angry grunt. “I've owned my spread for forty-one years, Walt. Paid half my living to the tax man. And now, instead of solving anybody’s problems, all they want to do is confiscate an entire hardware store without explanation!"

  “Which they’ve got zero authority to do,” Terry added. “It’s criminal, is what it is. And mark my words, they’ll come for our ranching equipment and supplies next.”

  Walt's eyes narrowed involuntarily. "You sound downright paranoid, gentlemen. What’s the point of all this? "

  "We just don't want to be beholden to every whim of the sheriff," Bob said, backing Terry up. "They need to learn to respect our sovereign rights. Learn to back off when it's good for them." Bob sidled closer to Walt and lowered his voice. “The sheriff’s department in these parts is a liability, not a protection. Some of us are thinking about forming our own defenses. Did you hear about that shooting out by the Davidson place? They said it was a gang of druggie kids got out of hand, and where was the sheriff then? If we had some kind of militia, stuff like that would be stamped out real quick."

  Walt took the reins back from Liam. “I don't really appreciate the tone of this conversation. Good day, gentlemen."

  Bob raised his voice again as Walt turned away, face turning red. “At some point we have to take a stand, Walt. We have to take care of our own. It’s our right!"

  Terry puffed himself up another inch. "And if the sheriff wants to concern himself with illegal seizures instead of serving the people, then it's up to us to take care of business. We have to organize, train to meet opposition with force, and make sure this place stays how it should be. Somebody has to keep the trash away from our town, see the right laws enforced!"

  Walt stopped. “Private militia activity like you’re talking about is illegal. There’s a process for all of this, and it’s our duty as citizens to follow it.”

  “Aw, listen to the good little boy,” Terry sneered. “He’s just going to roll over and beg when they say beg.”

  "It’s not illegal," Bob said. "It's the Constitution, for crying out loud. And sometimes it's the only way to counter a situation that's gotten out of control. What we’re dealing with now is about as out of control as it can get!"

  Walt shook his head. “I’m having no part of it. It’s misguided and dangerous. Come on, Liam. We have a long ways to go.”

  Bob glowered. “I don't think Mr. Leonhardt is ready for what needs to be done, Terry. Maybe he’ll come around later, when he personally feels the price of inaction."

  Walt and Liam moved off down the street, ignoring the men behind them.

  On the south side of town, they mounted their horses and began following the little highway that led out of Bozeman. They cleared the residential areas and were just passing a strip with a pawn shop and a couple of
gas stations when they saw a crowd of people outside a home. Angry shouts came from inside the house.

  “What’s going on over there, Dad?” Liam asked.

  “Uh, not sure,” Walt said. He slowed his horse and scanned the crowd. There were two uniformed policemen at the bottom of the porch steps. A man in a suit, which looked infinitely more out of place now than it had even when the rural community was enjoying business as usual.

  “I think that might be the mayor,” Liam said. “I saw him on TV a couple weeks ago. Or maybe it’s his son, the one that got the commissioner job everybody was so mad about. Remember that whole flap?”

  Before Walt could answer, a shot rang out and a woman screamed. The crowd began to scatter.

  “Go!” Walt spat, and they both kicked their horses into a fast canter away from the disturbance. Several more gunshots echoed behind them, and when Walt looked back he couldn’t see the policemen any more.

  “What in the blazes is happening around here?” Walt said, gripping his reins tightly and keeping one hand on the pistol at his belt. “Has everybody lost their minds?”

  “Let’s get out of here, Dad,” Liam said. “We’re wasting time in this town anyway. Let’s just go.”

  Nodding, Walt urged his horse on again at a fast clip, and they left the highway to follow some railroad tracks that led away from town through a less populated area.

  Chapter 7: Searching for Safety

  Tara followed Gemma out of their apartment and locked the door behind her, squinting against the glare of the morning sun. She had expected to sleep more deeply than ever before, considering how exhausted she’d been. But the sound of distant gunshots had woken her twice. It hadn’t been a pleasant night.