A Long Road Back: Final Dawn: Book 8 (26 page)

     She turned to her little sister.

     “Do we have to teach these old people
everything?
”

     Beth said nothing but nodded her head decisively. She was in firm agreement.

     Dave was a man of his word, and after the family checked in at the ticket kiosk and Sarah and the girls got their boarding passes, they made a beeline to Cinnabon.

     “Daddy, are you going to walk us to the gate?”

     “No, honey, I can’t go through security without a boarding pass, so I’ll walk you as far as I can and then you can give me a great big hug and a kiss.”

     “I wish you could come with us.”

     “I know, sugar. I wish I could too. But with two of the guys being sick at work, they just can’t let me take vacation right now. Uncle Tommy will understand, and we can go fishing another time. And you’ll be so busy helping Aunt Susan get everything ready for the wedding, you won’t even have time to miss me.”

     “Bet I will!”

     Sarah looked at him longingly. They were going to be apart for their twelfth anniversary. It would be the first one they’d missed.

     It was as if he could read her mind.

     “We’ll do something special when you get back, I promise. We’ll get a sitter and go spend the weekend at the lake. Just the two of us.”

     “I’d like that.”

     He walked the three special ladies in his life to the TSA checkpoint and got his hugs and kisses.

     He held Sarah close and told her he loved her.

     Little Beth rolled her eyes and said, “No mush, you two.”

     Dave paid her no mind. He looked Sarah in the eyes and said, “It’ll seem like forever before I see you again.”

     Neither of them had a clue how true those words would be.

ALONE, Book 1:

Facing Armageddon

is available now on Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble Booksellers, selected Hastings book stores, and at other fine booksellers.

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A LONG ROAD BACK,

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RED Book 1:

The Adventure Begins

    The one evil that Debbie could not conquer was the vile cancer that was slowly consuming her mother's body.

     Rita was in her last weeks when Debbie knelt at her bedside.

     "Daddy taught me how to fight. I kicked a boy's ass."

     Rita was aghast.

     "Oh, my goodness! That's not the proper way for a young girl to behave. Please tell your father to come and see me immediately."

     Debbie fetched her father, disappointed but not surprised that her mother didn't approve.

     "Butch, you're teaching our daughter to beat up boys? What kind of life will she live if boys are afraid to court her for fear of saying or doing something wrong and being beaten for it?"

     "I'm not teaching her to beat up boys. I'm teaching her first to be a peacekeeper. To try to reason with the unreasonable. To apply logic to the illogical. To try to talk her way out of a difficult situation.

     "But you and I both know that sometimes bullies, drunks and thugs can't be dealt with in civil terms. Sometimes she'll have no choice but to defend herself or those she loves.

     "And in those cases, you're darn right I want her to be able to kick a boy's butt. I want her to exhaust all other more peaceful means, but when she can see it's going to get violent, I want her to hit first, hit hard, and hit often. It's like that old Chinese proverb...
He who hits first stands the longest
."

     Rita was skeptical.

     "I don't believe I've ever heard such a proverb."

     "Okay," he confessed. "I made it up. But you have to admit it's pretty clever, don't you think?"

     Rita didn't think so.

     Butch turned to Debbie, who thought it was indeed quite clever, and who decisively nodded her head in agreement.

     "Oh, Butch, I'm just afraid for her. What if she starts something she can't finish?"

     Butch turned to Debbie and asked her, "Honey, what did Daddy tell you about losing fights?"

     "You told me that there are no guarantees that I'll win every time I have to use my fists. And that's why I should only hit someone as a last resort. And you told me that even if I don't win a fight, that I'll chase away a bully. Because bullies pick on people they don't think will fight back. And when they do, the bullies stop picking on them. They will find someone else, someone weaker, to bully."

     "And what else, honey?"

     "You told me that black eyes build character."

     Butch panicked.

     "No, not that. That was supposed to be just between us. What else did I tell you to tell your mom if she ever had any concerns with you defending yourself?"

     "Oh, yeah. You said that even though I may not win every fight, I'll finish each one a little bit stronger, a little bit wiser, and with one less bully."

     Rita still wasn't convinced. In principle, she agreed with Butch's attempts to raise Debbie as a strong girl, who didn't necessarily need a man to rescue her when the going got tough.

     But Rita was raised in another era, with a different set of social norms.

     "I'm just concerned that she'll never be able to find a boy," she explained. "When I was young, boys went out with girls who wore dresses and played with dolls. Not tomboys who climbed trees and skinned rabbits."

     "Times have changed, Rita. The men who are intimidated by a strong woman aren't worth having. A real God-fearing, salt-of-the-earth man now sees a woman as an equal. And he isn't concerned if she's capable of defending herself. In fact, I want her to have a husband who's proud of her for being strong."

     Debbie was just a bit confused. She had a girly side too, and cherished her time playing dolls and dress-up with her friends.

     "But Mom, can't I have both? Can't I be a girl when I play with my girlfriends and still be able to defend them when one of us is bullied?"

     And that, in a nutshell, summed up Debbie's outlook on life.

     She'd grow up to be a caring and nurturing woman. A loving wife and mother.

     But she'd also relish the role of protector when she needed to be. And any man who couldn't accept her on those terms wouldn't make it in her world.

     But that was many years away.

     Here, and now, she needed her mother's blessing.

     Rita asked, "What happened to the boy you fought?"

     Debbie smiled.

     "He lost a tooth and walked funny for the rest of the day."

     "No, honey. That's not what I meant. Did he also get punished? Do you think he'll learn a lesson from this?"

     "I know for a fact he has, mom. He called me last night to apologize. He admitted that his mom made him call, but he really sounded like he meant he was sorry. He said his friends were making fun of him for getting beaten up by a girl."

     "What did you tell him?"

     "I accepted his apology. And I told him that dynamite and hand grenades both come in small packages and he should never assume a smaller person can't fight back. I also told him that real friends don't make fun of each other, and that maybe he should find some new friends who accepted him as he was. A great big jerk."

     Butch stifled a laugh.

     "I told him that if he'd quit picking on Roy and the other kids that Roy and I would be his friends.

     "He never said yes or no to that, but he got quiet. Maybe he's thinking about it."

     Rita smiled and felt a rush of pride.

     "Maybe I've misjudged you, sweetheart. I think you handled a difficult situation perfectly. I hope he can change his ways and the three of you can be friends."

     "Yeah, maybe. It doesn't really matter to me one way or the other. But I'll be his friend if he behaves himself."

     She changed the subject.

     "Samantha called. She said the whole school is talking about it. She said I have street cred now."

     Her mother asked, "What on earth is street cred?"

     "Gosh, Mom, I don't know. I was goin’ to ask you guys."

     Debbie and Rita both looked at Butch.

     He smiled.

     "It means respect. Street credentials mean that you've earned your right to walk the streets. You've proved yourself. You're not someone to be messed with."

     Rita said, "Oh, my. I'm not sure I want my daughter to have such a reputation."

     Debbie summed it up a different way: "Cool!"

Please enjoy this preview of

RANGER Book 1:

A Humble Beginning

      While they waited the two talked of Ranger Mike Waylor, the man who’d been frightened away from Lubbock by Henry Jenkins’ ghost.

     “The major told me you were going to spend the night in the office and check it out for yourself,” Tom asked. “Is that true, or was he just pulling my leg?”

     “I don’t believe I told him I would. I believe I told him I might. It’s a curious tale, and I’m a curious sort by nature. I’d like to see if there’s anything to the story.”

     “Do you believe in ghosts?”

     “Well, I don’t rightly know, Tom. Not really. But I don’t really disbelieve them either.”

     “What the hell does that mean?”

     Randy winced just a bit.

     “Sorry. What does that mean?”

     “Well, I believe there are a lot of things out there that we just don’t know much about. One theory is as good as the next one, I suppose. At least until it’s proven to be false. As for what happens after death, it’s kinda hard to prove one way or another.”

     “Do you believe in God, Randy?”

     “Certainly.”

     “Don’t you think that by believing in God, then believing in ghosts at the same time is blasphemy?”

     “Not at all. The Bible says that the faithful will die and walk the golden streets of heaven for all eternity. And that sinners will go to a place of eternal damnation. But it doesn’t say when. It doesn’t say immediately after death. It also makes mention of purgatory, or a type of way station. Maybe those who are not righteous enough to be admitted to heaven right away spend time in purgatory while awaiting their eternal fate. Maybe the ghosts we sometimes see on earth are merely residents of purgatory who are awaiting a decision on where their souls will spend eternity.”

     “Hey, they’re on the move.”

     “Yep.”

     Randy turned the Ford’s ignition key and the engine sprang to life.

     Their suspects turned right coming out of the parking lot and headed away from them. Randy pulled away from the library and proceeded in the same direction, but at a slower pace.

     The Rangers had a tail policy which differed from most law enforcement agencies.

     Most agencies had several units involved in a tail. They were able to break off frequently, handing control over to a different vehicle. That car would tail the suspect for a short time, then break off and hand off to a third car. Sometimes there were up to five cars involved, all working closely by radio in a carefully orchestrated process. The end result, when done properly, was to tail the suspect without him suspecting it.

     The Texas Rangers used a different strategy. It was borne of necessity, for they simply didn’t have enough agents in the field to perform such a maneuver.

     But they did generally work in pairs when on a case.

     The Rangers’ strategy was simple. One suspect vehicle, one Ranger vehicle. But the follow vehicle stayed back until the suspect vehicle was almost out of sight, then used a spotter to keep him in view.

     Since Randy was at the wheel, Tom by default became the spotter. He took the binoculars and focused in on the Chevy, now over half a mile in front of them.

     “Okay, I’ve got good visual. You can back off a little bit more.”

     In the rear view mirror of the suspect’s truck, Randy and Tom were but a speck in the background, blending in with a myriad of other specks. Each time the suspects turned, Tom made note of a landmark at that particular intersection.