Coalition of the Damned - 03 (32 page)

Hatcher didn't care too much for Unit Two, but he couldn't put his finger on exactly why.  The red haired man always seemed to rub him the wrong way.  It wasn't any one thing, but Daniel simply didn't like him.  He didn't know if it was his feeble attempts at humor, or his obvious crush on Shelly, but he couldn't bring himself to like him.  Dwayne Fisher had transferred to the park the previous year and tried too hard to be everybody's best friend.  He confided too much of his personal life, liked to slap people on the back and laughed too hard.  He was loud, he was often obnoxious and he had a bad habit of engaging his mouth before using his brain as a buffer.  Daniel cringed at the thought of Dwayne trying to play bad cop with a group of rockaholic kids pushing drugs at the park and decided it might be best if he made his presence available should there be a confrontation.

He pushed his way through the crowd and cut through the Visitors Center.  Pulling his keys from his belt he thumbed through the ring and pulled the master key from the loop.  He hit the rear door and was through it so fast that onlookers would never have realized it was even locked.

He broke back out to the outdoors to find Shelly confronting the older youth and Dwayne had two other youths pinned against a building, a snarl across his face.  "What's the problem here?" he barked.

"This bitch is busting my balls!" the kid yelled.

Shelly turned and gave Daniel a stern look.  "This young man shoved something into his underpants the moment I came into view.  I asked him what it was and he became belligerent."

"My nuts itched." The kid barked, sticking his chest out t
oward Shelly.

Daniel turned toward Dwayne who still held the two other youths against the wall.  "And these two?"

"Were about to jump her from behind." He said quietly but through clenched teeth as the two squirmed under his thick arms.

"Okay, Fisher.  Let them down, but watch them." Hatcher o
rdered.

"But Hatch..." Fisher began to argue.

"Just let them stand on their own two feet." Hatcher fought the urge to smile.  "And maybe let what's left of their brains get a little oxygen."

Dwayne dropped the two into the dirt, then scooped them up by the back of their shirts.  Daniel turned and faced the older youth.  "As for you..."

"You can't do shit to me, man.  I'm a minor.  I know my rights." He spat as he bounced from foot to foot.

"You may know your rights, but you obviously don't know the laws." Hatcher began.  "And attempting to make a drug deal on
federal
land is a BIG no-no."

"Yeah?  Well fuck you." The kid started to turn and run.  B
efore he could get more than a few steps, Shelly tackled him and took him to the ground, kicking and screaming.

Daniel came up behind the two just as Shelly slapped a set of handcuffs on one wrist and forcefully twisted the kid's other arm around causing him to squeal like a pig before she slapped the cuff on the other wrist.  She threw her arms up in the air and yelled, "Time!"

"I think that's a new record." Daniel reached down and grabbed the handcuffs and pulled the kid to his feet.

Shelly stood up and wiped the dirt from her uniform.  "If that had been a calf, I think I coulda branded him for the record, too." She winked.

"You can take the girl out of Texas..." Daniel began.

"But you can't take Texas out of the girl." Shelly finished.

Hatcher walked the kid back over behind the Visitor's Center and sat him on the ground.  "Well young man, we have a slight problem here."

"I want my lawyer."

"Tough." Daniel answered.  "You aren't under arrest.  Yet."  He looked at the other two youths and smiled.  "Only people under arrest get a lawyer.  Right now you are being detained.  And since you are simply being detained, I can search you to make sure you don't have any weapons or anything else on you that might be harmful to me or you or anybody else in close proximity."

The kid stared up at him with wide eyes.  "No you can't!" he stammered.  "I don't give you permission."

"You don't have to." Daniel patted his head like a puppy.  "Like I said, you may know your rights, but you don't know the law.  All I need is a witness to ensure I don't infringe on your rights." He turned to the large red haired man holding the other two youths.  "Isn't that right Ranger Fisher?"

"That is correct, sir."

"So." Daniel squatted down and flicked the young man's nose.  "What do you think we're going to find when we take you into my office and strip search your dumb ass?"

The kid groaned and dropped his head.

Daniel stood up and looked to the other kids.  "Let's make this a little bit easier, shall we?" His voice raised a little too loudly.  "Since no actual drug deal took place, I think we can safely assume that you two idiots don't have anything on your persons, am I correct?"

Both kids quickly shook their heads, "No sir, we don't!" one yelled.

"I ain't got nothing.  We never got to make the deal." the other shouted.

"So if you tell me that you were
going
to buy drugs from this young man..."

Both kids looked at him expectantly.

"...but you weren't able to..."  Daniel looked to Shelly who simply shrugged.  "Jiminy Christmas.  Are you guys really this stupid?"  The two kids still just stared.  "If you cooperate, we can let you go.  Okay?"  They both began nodding and agreeing.  "Why did you sneak back here with this guy?"

"We came back here to buy dope." One kid said.

"He said he had weed and meth." The other said.

"Thank you!" Daniel looked to Dwayne and nodded.  Ran
ger Fisher picked up both boys and began drag-walking them back around to the front of the Visitor's Center.  He would take their statements and turn them over to the Sheriff's Department who would process them and turn them loose.  Hatcher turned to the kid on the ground.  "Man, sucks to be you." He reached down and lifted the kid up by his jacket. 

"What are you going to do with me?" The kid whined.

"After we
thoroughly
search you and charge you with possession with intent, we'll turn you over to the Sheriff's Department.  They, in turn, will fit you with a really nice orange jumpsuit and give you a new place to stay.  The DA will make the final arrangements for you."

"This ain't right man.  You make it sound like I'm the only one here doing this." The kid argued.

"One slimeball at a time." Daniel dragged the kid to his office.  "One slimeball at a time."

*****

Bill Martin pulled his Jeep into the campsite and set the emergency brake.  Turning off the engine he listened to the noise from all of the people down the mountain and shook his head.  "What the hell ever happened to the silence of the great outdoors?" 

He opened the rear of the new Wrangler and began unloading his camping gear.  Intending to spend two weeks here at Yello
wstone, he had hoped for nothing more than a bit of quiet, maybe get in some fishing, stay up late by the campfire, sleep in to the sounds of nature, but instead, it sounded like tailgate parties at a flippin' football game.  He knew what those sounded like.  He had to work enough of them when he was a State Trooper.  Now that he was retired, he just wanted to relax a little.

He sighed heavily and stood at the open end of his Jeep, d
ebating on simply getting back in and leaving.  He saw another angler walking down toward the lake and he nodded a hello.  The man nodded back, then paused.  He looked at Bill, then back over the hill behind them.  "I think we picked the wrong weekend to come here."

"You think?" Bill replied, trying hard not to sound too snarky.

The man tilted his head back toward the roar of people, "It's that damned concert.  Drawn people from everywhere.  Thank god it's only for one night.  Maybe they'll all leave afterward."

Bill gave him a questioning stare.  "What concert?"

The man's face registered his obvious shock.  "You mean to tell me you didn't see the banners and the signs everywhere?"

Bill flustered slightly.  "Honestly, I wasn't paying attention.  I didn't think any of that was actually for here..." he trailed off.

The man walked the short distance back toward Bill and smiled.  "Oh, yeah.  Some benefit concert to help raise money to replant trees and whatnot after the big fires a few years ago."  Bill shook his head.  He truly had no idea what he was talking about.  "Really?  You didn't know about...well, let me tell ya." the man began.  "A few years back, the Forestry Service wanted to bring in a crew and clean up all the dead fall and dry stuff that was a fire hazard."

"Okay, that makes sense." Bill said, nodding.

"Well, making sense doesn't work these days, ya know.  Apparently some tree-hugger group didn't like that, so they filed a lawsuit or injunction or...whatever.  They put a stop to it.  They claimed that the Forestry Service was going to let
loggers
come in and destroy the place."

Bill's eyes nearly bugged out of his head.  "What?  They couldn't do that if they wanted to.  This is federal land..."

"Yeah, I know.  They even showed copies of the contracts and their paperwork and...well, the greenie group didn't buy it.  And apparently neither did whatever judge they were facing.  They said something about 'damaging the ecosystem of the local wildlife' if they cut out all of that stuff." The man continued.  "And sure enough, a year later, there's this huge fire.  Burns nearly half of Yellowstone plumb to the ground.  Millions of acres, hundreds of millions spent fighting it, people lost their lives fighting that damned fire."

Bill shook his head.  "I bet the local wildlife appreciated them saving their ecosystem then, didn't they?" He asked sarcastically.

"Don't get me started.  I own property that butts up to this place.  I fish here all the time.  It makes me sick the way these special interest groups can sue to get whatever the hell they want.  It don't matter what's in the best interest of this place."

"And now they're having a rock and roll concert...for what?"

"Beats the hell out of me."Tthe man shook his head. "Raise awareness?  Raise money to buy seedlings?  Whatever.  Honestly, I think it's just an excuse to party."

"The Forestry Service already replanted those areas, didn't they?" Bill asked.

The man smiled and nodded.  "Just a few months after the fire.  They went in by the hundreds and planted trees of all sizes.  From seedlings to saplings." He shook his head. "Now that things have had a chance to heal, this place is starting to rebound."

"That's good." Bill glanced back toward the hill.  "I don't guess anybody learned anything from that little lesson, did they?"

The man gave him a stupid look.  "No.  They still won't let them go in and clean out the tinder and dead fall from the rest of the park." He shook his head again.  "All that fuel is just sitting there waiting for the next fire."

"Oh my god..." Bill groaned.

"Tell me about it." The man shook his head then glanced down to the lake.  "Well, listen, it was nice chatting with ya.  But I have some fish to catch." He shot Bill a little wink and turned back to the lake.

"Thanks for the education." Bill called as the man trudged back toward the water.  He raised his rod in the air and waved good bye.  Bill watched him a moment then realized...he never caught his name.

He turned back to his Jeep and started pulling his gear out.  Best to just set up camp for the night and maybe find something he could shove in his ears for the evening.  Something...anything to muffle the noise of what was about to come.

Heath Stallcup

Edited by TW Brown

Cover Art by Ronak Kothari

Prologue

TEXAS, JUNE 1885

As the sun rose on the Texas hardpan just outside the growing town of Quitman, the few small shopkeepers that called the town home began opening their doors and setting up their goods for what promised to be another scorcher of a day.

Sheriff James ‘Two Guns’ Tolbert stepped out of his office and stared across the street to the Saloon and the few staggering drunks that made their way out of the swinging doors and back to whatever ramshackle shacks that happened to be home.  He shook his head and tipped his hat at the skinny barkeep as he shooed the patrons out of his place with an old corn broom.

The balding man sighed heavily and leaned against the broom, pushing his wire rimmed spectacles back up on his bird like nose and smiled at the Sheriff. “I always miss a few, it seems.” he called across the dirt street.  “Care for some breakfast, Jim?  Jenny has the stove fired up.”

James glanced up and down the dirt street and noted that the bank was still closed.  He stared at the face of his pocket watch.  He had another thirty minutes before they’d open at least. The wire se
rvice was inside there and he needed to send a telegram.  Glancing back up he nodded to Buford, “I think I could swallow something.” he said as he stepped from under the shade of the overhang in front of his office.  “Especially if Jenny is the one cooking it.”

“Would I lie to you, Marshall?” Buford waved him over.

James looked down at the smaller man and smirked at him.  “Wouldn’t be the first time, Buford.”  He stepped into the Saloon and found a chair in the corner where he could see any who came or went from the nearly empty dance hall.

“Well, live and learn, Marshall, that’s what I say.” Buford laughed.  “Only did it once, as I recall.” he cawed.

James leaned back in his chair while Buford poured a tin of hot coffee for him.  “Quit calling me Marshall, will you?  It’s still just Sheriff.”

“For now, Marshall.” Buford eyed him knowingly.  “It’s just a matter of time.”

“I’m more than happy just being a Sheriff, thank you.”

“But your cousin is the Marshall and word is he just got moved to the Rangers.” Buford smiled a crooked smile.  “That’s gonna leave an opening for a Marshall and who better than you?”

“I ain’t countin’ no chickens ‘til they’re hatched, Buford.”

“Soup’s on!” Jenny called from the back.

Wiping his hands on his dirty smock, Buford nodded to James.  “I’ll be right back.”  James watched him step to the back of the Saloon, a slight limp in his step.  He soon reappeared carrying a large plate with fresh farm eggs sunny side up and a pan seared slice of thick cut ham with two biscuits fresh from the oven.  James felt his mouth water as the aroma rose to his face and he realized he hadn’t eaten anything fresh from the stove since he and Mary had last shared a meal at her home nearly a week ago.  Everything else had been leftovers sent over from the Saloon or the boarding house and eaten hastily at his desk.

“I’ll send some marmalade for your biscuits.” Buford said as he limped away.

James nodded and began to slice into the ham.  He made quick work of the steaming hot breakfast and washed it down with the hot coffee, which Buford topped off twice.

Jenny slipped out after Buford had gone upstairs to change out the sheets and shoo out some of the late sleepers and sat with the Sheriff while he sopped up the egg yolk with the remains of his bi
scuits.  “Is it true?” she asked.

“Is what true?”

“That you’re gonna be the new Marshall?” she asked, her eyes wide with wonder. 

James paused and studied the young girl sitting across from him, staring at him with wide eyed wonder.  She was the epit
ome of youth and beauty, but well guarded by her father and far too young for a man of his advancing years.  Although he suspected that she may harbor a crush on him, he also knew that the young men of the small township all tripped over each other to simply stand in line and tip their hats at her on the rare occasion that Buford allowed her out.

“Well, to be honest, I don’t really know.” James replied as he fi
nished his meal and washed down the remains with his coffee.  He pushed his plate back and gave her a smile.  “Either way, it doesn’t really matter.  I have my hands full right here.”

“How so?  If you was a Marshall you’d get to be over such a bigger area.  More power and more authority, right?”

James smiled at her and nodded.  “Well, yes.  But as it is, what with Jericho Miller trying to bring the railroad through here…”

Jenny’s eyes widened even further and she nodded.  “Oh, yeah.  And that rotten boy of his causing so much trouble.” Her voice dripped with obvious distaste.

“Now, Jenny.” James patted her hand.  “Let’s not be too judgmental of Simon.  The boy can’t help it that the good Lord didn’t bless him with an over abundance of good sense.”

“Or kindness.” she added softly.

“Or that.” he agreed.

“Jenny!” Buford yelled from the railing above them.  “Don’t you got chores to git to?”

“Yes, Poppa.” She rose quickly from her chair and gathered James’ dishes. 

“Thank you, Jenny.  It was wonderful.” James gave her a soft smile.

“You’re welcome, Sheriff.” She slipped away to the back, stealing quick furtive glances at him as she departed. 

He rose to leave and heard the approaching beats of horse hooves galloping into town. Peering out the window of the S
aloon he sighed heavily and tossed three bits on the table.  Buford never charged him for his meals or his drinks, but he never liked being beholding to anybody.

Adjusting his hat to allow for the sun he stepped through the swinging double doors, out of the din of the Saloon and into the ea
rly morning light of Quitman.  The arriving horses belonged to a rowdy bunch of hands from the Miller Ranch.  The eight men arrived just ahead of a buckboard wagon that pulled to a stop at the general store where the hands had already tied off their horses and were milling about outside being loud and rowdy.

James groaned inwardly and leaned against the post along the front of the Saloon where he could keep an eye on the new arr
ivals.  He knew that things could easily escalate and trouble was just a spark away.

Jericho Miller was a mean snake of a man, but he got things done in this part of the world.  He shook hands and rubbed e
lbows with people who made things happen, powerful people out east who had no qualms spending other people’s money to make or break entire regions of the nation, all in the name of progress.

When Miller’s son had been arrested for drunk and disorderly charges the spring before, Jericho himself had come to James and explained that he was bringing the railroad to the thriving town of Quitman.  The railroad had the potential to put the tiny town on the map as a whistle and water stop.  ‘A real train stop, right here in the tiny burg of Quitman…think of the money, the jobs it could bring!’ the old man argued.  ‘Think of the crime.’ James countered.

Still, Jericho had a point, and before it was over, he had talked James into allowing the elder to simply pay a fine and getting Simon out of jail, paying restitution to the shop keeper whose windows he had shot out and property he had destroyed.  It went against his better judgment, but he allowed it.  He felt dirty afterwards, like he needed a bath that no lye soap or scrub brush could get clean.  A dirt that went plumb to his soul.

He had compromised his ethics and it stung him.

Now every time Miller’s boys came to town, it was a reminder that he’d allowed himself to be swayed.  He’d allowed those with the gold to make the rules and it caught in his craw. 

Tolbert pulled his tobacco pouch from his shirt pocket and with a rolling paper formed a smoke between skilled fingers.  Licking the paper to seal it, he twisted the end and struck a match against the post he leaned against while his eyes never left the general store.

He sucked in the rich calming smoke and exhaled slowly, allowing the smoke to satisfy his body’s need and calm his nerves.  A large part of him wanted badly to take a pound of flesh, but the bigger part of him knew that his desires were far outweighed by something larger than himself.  His love of the law and his desire to uphold it no matter the cause kept his gun hand at bay.

“Morning, Sheriff.” A sweet, lilting voice called to him.

James pulled his eyes from the general store and felt his heart lift.  His hand automatically lifted to his hat and he tilted the brim at the love of his life.  “Morning, Mary.” he said softly.

“You still coming to supper tomorrow evening?” she asked with a smile.

“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away, Miss Odell.” His eyes lit up as he hopped from the wooden steps.  “Would you mind if I walked with you?”

She smiled up at him and averted her eyes.  “I’m only going to the school house.  I have to drop off a few things for the new school marm.” Her hand automatically went to the cameo brooch pinned to the neck of her dress.  He had given it to her shortly after he had asked her permission to ‘court’ and she was never without it.

“Surely you could use a hand?” He was hoping she’d say yes, just so he could spend a few more moments with her.  They’d only been courting a few months now and his job took far too much of his time, but he cherished every moment he spent with young Mary.  He loved how her eyes changed color with her mood, shifting from aqua blue when she was happy to a turquoise green when she felt sad or jealous of his job.  Her straw colored hair shimmered in the sunlight as they walked toward the end of town.

“Why, I don’t know, Sheriff Hickok,” she teased. “Can you pull yourself away from your duties long enough to escort a young lady that far?”

“Now, Mary.” he chided.  “You know that my job calls at all hours.  I can’t help that we had to call our last two suppers early because of it.” He tried to explain again for the fifth or sixth time.  “I’m the only law in this part of the country, and unless my cousin happens to…”

“I’m teasing you, James.” she placed a hand on his chest to stop him.  “I understand and I don’t hold it against you.”

He flustered slightly at her touch and looked away.  “I’m sorry, Mary.  I wish it had never happened.” he said softly placing his roughened hand over her's.  His thumb gently stroked her hand and his sad eyes peered deeply into hers.  “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

She smiled up at him and his heart melted.  He could feel the air in his lungs escape him as she tiptoed and brushed a kiss against his cheek, as soft as the beat of a butterfly’s wing, her soft lips brushing the roughness of his whisker laden face.  He felt his cheeks burn as her rose scented hair blew past him on a dusty breeze.

“Mary…” he breathed, his throat tightening, his emotions threatening to get the better of him.

“Well ain’t that just the sweetest damn thing you ever saw?” a rough gravelly voice called from behind him, snapping him from his reverie.

James stiffened and quickly let her hand slip from his.  Mary drew a quick gasp as she saw his eyes harden to narrow slits and his shoulders square as his body instinctively prepared for fight or flight.  He slowly turned to stare down the man who dared to interrupt such a tender moment with his love.  “No.” she whispered, but his head was elsewhere.

“Give me a reason, Culley.” James threatened.

Jake Culley stood by the buckboard wagon, smiling at the couple across the way, stained teeth looking as if they had been pulled from the earth itself.  “Why, Sheriff?  Ever’body knows you won’t do nothin’.” he said loudly.  “You’re in Miller’s pocket already!” he guffawed, sending James’ hand to his holster.  Still, he kept himself in check.

“Words, Culley.  That’s all you got.” Tolbert stepped away from Mary and toward the middle of the street.  She quickly headed to the safety of the alleyway and watched with horror as Miller’s gang came out of the general store and spread the
mselves across the dirt street, squaring off with the man she intended to wed.

Simon Miller tossed a bag of dry goods in the back of the wagon and stepped in front of his boys.  “Now fellers, don’t go poking at the good Sheriff.” he said loudly.  “He can’t help it that Pa got the better of him.”  He turned and faced James.  “Can you Sheriff?”