Samantha marched out of the barn and grabbed Haley by the arm.
Truman laughed out loud and commented, “Is this my brother’s little blonde beauty?”
Samantha shot Truman a look and pulled Haley back inside the barn against her will.
“By the looks of her face, I’d say she likes it rough. Or did she get those bruises somewhere else?” Truman asked as he pulled back his coat to expose his holstered pistol. His men adjusted themselves and spread their stances.
Nelson swallowed hard. His vision narrowed and his palms began to sweat. His pistol was tucked in the small of his back and he tried to anticipate the best way to react. A fight was coming and the odds were not in his favor.
“Listen…” Nelson said, his voice cracking.
Then suddenly, like the Seventh Cavalry, a truck rumbled down the small street and pulled down the driveway just behind Truman and his men.
Both doors on the old pickup opened up and out came Mack and Eric. Nelson’s father, Frank, and another man who lived in the neighborhood jumped out of the bed.
“Nelson, is everything all right?” Eric asked, looking at the men. He had a shotgun in his hand.
“Eric, Mack, Dad, good to see you,” Nelson said.
“Where’s my brother? I’m not going to keep asking!” Truman exclaimed.
“These guys came here looking for someone, and we told them that no one has been here in weeks. They were just leaving,” Nelson said to Eric, answering his previous question.
Mack and Frank had spread apart and chosen their targets.
“Truman, I don’t know your brother nor have I seen him. Now please leave; this will not end up how you hoped it might,” Eric said.
Truman looked at Eric, then back to Nelson. He paused and said, “Guys, let’s keep looking for him.” He then walked up to Nelson and stood inches away. “I know he was here. If I find out he never left, there’ll be hell to pay.”
Nelson stared into Truman’s dark brown eyes and said, “If your brother was how you described him, maybe you should be looking in the closest ditch. Now, get out of here.”
Truman grimaced and motioned for his men to follow him.
“We’ll escort you gentlemen out the front,” Nelson quipped.
Eric nodded and said, “This way.”
Following Eric, Truman turned around one last time and winked at Nelson. It sent a chill up his spine.
FEBRUARY 25, 2015
• • •
“Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.”
Roger was an adaptable politician. He knew that in the old conventional world, what Barone had done would not go unpunished. But in this new world, Barone promised his small town a chance to survive and flourish. Yet Roger’s coalition with the other town leaders was fracturing quickly. In their attempt to convince the three dissenters to acquiesce to Barone’s plan, they had lost two others. The five leaders who had rallied against Barone could not see the consequences of expelling Barone. A call for a return to civilian control of the military was on the rise.
He was not looking forward to telling Barone the latest development. Sitting outside Barone’s office in the old finance department of city hall, he anxiously awaited the meeting.
The door opened and Simpson came out. “Come on in.”
Roger stood, wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, and walked into the office.
Barone stood over a small table looking at a map of southern Oregon and Northern California. His brow was furrowed and he appeared to be lost in thought.
Roger cleared his throat.
“Ah, go ahead and sit, Mr. Timms. Sorry, I just had a briefing on some activity to the south,” Barone said without looking at him.
Roger sat down like a nervous student awaiting the principal. Barone pulled himself away from the map and walked to his desk. “Can I get you a drink?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Well, I’m not,” Barone said as he reached to the bookcase behind the desk and poured himself a glass of whiskey.
“Colonel, we have a problem.”
Barone took a large swig of whiskey. He turned and sat down in the worn leather chair. “Doesn’t every day pose a problem?”
“We now have five council members that are opposed to you staying here,” Roger said.
Barone laughed and said, “Really? Can you remind me who wants me and my Marines to leave?”
“The original dissenters were Mayor Brownstein, Milford, Franklin, and now they’ve convinced Peloni and Harper. They have told me they are not willing to change their minds and are actively courting the others. They plan to announce their decision tomorrow.”
“How nice of them,” Barone joked. “Well, how can we convince them otherwise?”
“It’s not that easy, Colonel.”
Barone poured himself another drink. With drink in hand, he walked to the bank of windows that overlooked the street below his second-story office.
Below he saw a perfect blending of townspeople and his troops, living in harmony. The coordination had gone seamlessly. He couldn’t have these few people causing a disturbance.
Turning back around, he asked, “What do they want? I know you politicians. You always want something.”
“Colonel, I’m serious. These people—the mayor specifically—are hardnosed and principled. Brownstein won’t budge. She’s actually stating that you either need to leave or face a trial for your crimes.”
“Crimes?” Barone laughed. He went back to his chair and sat down. “Mr. Timms, this is all crazy talk. Do I need to remind them of the advantages they have from our being here?”
“I’ve told them, but she is the one leading this. She’s a very patriotic person.”
“I’ve heard enough. Please set up a meeting as soon as you can so I can discuss this with them,” Barone said, leaning forward. He sat his drink down and clasped his hands together before he continued. “Mr. Timms, I want to thank you for coming to see me about this. You are a friend.”
“Colonel, what happened before is the past to me. I can see with my own eyes what good you’re doing for us. I’ve told you before. I want you to stay.”
“I want to stay too,” Barone said. He shifted in his chair and looked over at the map sitting on the table. “Sorry to be rude, but I have to get back to some of the other daily problems I’m plagued with. I look forward to hearing back from you soon.”
Roger stood up quickly and headed for the door. “Thank you for meeting with me.”
“Mm-hmm. Tell Master Sergeant Simpson to come in here, please,” Barone called out.
“Sure thing,” Roger said as he opened the door.
As if he had been listening to their conversation, Simpson was standing right there at the entrance to the office.
“The colonel—”
“Thank you, Mr. Timms,” Simpson said and walked past him and closed the door.
When Simpson walked in, Barone was pouring his third drink. “Top, you might have been right. I need you to keep tabs on the following people.”
Barone quickly ran down the list of the local leaders who were opposed to them. He gave Simpson some guidance on what he wanted, from following them to monitoring where they went and who they spoke to. He instructed him to plant Marines in plain clothes in any public meetings. He needed human intelligence as to what they might be doing.
“Yes, sir, I’ll get right on this,” Simpson acknowledged, turning to leave.
“One more thing, Top. Recall all our forces. We might need them here.”
“I gotta piss,” Brandon said from the backseat of the crew cab truck.