Battle Lines (The Survivalist Book 5) (35 page)

Afraid that the helicopter might tip over or drift off the roof, Mason quickly set the parking brake and cut power to the engines. The SpeedHawk stopped rolling and settled back with a slight jerking motion. They had set down a little closer to the edge than he would have liked, but all in all, it was a fine landing.

Mason and Annie sat for a moment, staring straight ahead. As the rotor wound to a stop, he finally relaxed and let go of the controls. His jaws hurt from clenching his teeth, and his fingers felt like he had been carrying buckets of sand.

Annie clapped her hands together a few times.

“Good job, Marshal. You did it.”

“
We
did it,” he said. “Now, let’s go find the doctor.”

Mason watched as Dr. Darby applied a clean white dressing to Leila’s wound. Ava had introduced him to Darby months earlier, and both men now shared a special kind of bond that could be forged only through sadness and loss.

“Doctor, what’s the prognosis?” asked Leila.

“The prognosis, my dear, is that you should be fine. The bullet merely nicked the artery, and the hole was small enough that I was able suture it rather than having to apply a synthetic arterial patch. All that spells a quick recovery with fewer complications.”

“I can’t begin to thank you enough. You saved my life.”

“I only deserve a small portion of the thanks.” He looked over at Mason. “That’s the man who moved heaven and earth.”

When Leila turned to Mason, there were tears in her eyes.

“Words aren’t enough for the marshal.”

Mason smiled but said nothing.

“Did Annie and Flynn come with us to Boone?” she asked.

“They did. Annie not only helped me fly the helicopter, she was also the first person to donate blood.”

“She gave blood?”

He nodded.

“Who else? You?”

Mason shrugged. “I had plenty. Bowie offered too, but we had to draw the line somewhere.”

They all laughed.

Hearing his name, Bowie briefly stopped chewing on a large ham bone and looked up. Vince Tripp, one of the town’s deputies, had brought it by for him earlier, and he had spent the last two hours picking off every bit of meaty goodness.

“Where are the kids now?” she asked.

“The local priest, Father Paul, took them in.”

“He’ll take good care of them?”

“The best.”

She turned back to the doctor.

“Not to seem ungrateful, but when can I leave the hospital?”

Dr. Darby applied one final strip of tape to the bandage.

“I’m all done,” he said, pulling off his gloves. “You’re free to go anytime you like. I would, however, advise that you avoid running in any marathons for a few days.”

“That won’t be a problem,” said Mason. “I plan to take her up to my cabin to recuperate.” He turned to Leila. “Assuming, of course, that you’re interested.”

“I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”

“And the helicopter on the roof?” asked Dr. Darby. “What’s your plan for that?”

“Consider it a donation to the hospital.”

He nodded his appreciation. “If the world can ever right itself, a medevac helicopter might come in handy. All we need now is a pilot. Any chance you’d be interested in the job?”

Mason shook his head. “Sorry, Doc, my flying days are over.”

When Mason wheeled Leila out of the hospital, he was surprised to find Don Potts, another of the town’s deputies, leaning against a shiny white Ford F-150 truck. Don was an ex-Army Military Police officer who had stepped up to fight beside Mason in the battle to save Boone. During his time in the Army, he had lost the lower half of his left leg to an improvised explosive device. That loss, however, had in no way taken from his courage or grit, and Mason considered him one of the toughest men he had ever known.

Bowie immediately raced up to Don and began scrubbing against his good leg.

Don leaned down and wrestled with the dog a little.

“My goodness, Bowie, you’re even bigger than I remembered.”

Mason wheeled Leila a little closer and stepped around the wheelchair to shake Don’s hand.

“Good to see you, Don.”

“And you, Marshal. I’m sorry I didn’t come by sooner. We had a bit of an issue over at the water plant.”

“Trouble?”

He shook his head. “Not really. Folks from a nearby town tried to take some of our purification supplies. Nothing we couldn’t handle.” He turned to Leila and extended his hand. “Who’s the pretty lady?”

“I’m Leila. It’s nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand.

“I see the doc’s got you all fixed up.”

“Yes,” she said, touching the bandage. “He says I’ll be better in a couple of days.” Her eyes flicked to his prosthetic leg.

He caught the look and grinned.

“Oh, don’t worry about me. I get along just fine. Don’t I, Marshal?”

“You do indeed.”

“Most people don’t remember that I did most of my fighting to save Boone on only one leg.” He shook his head and smiled. “Best damn day of my life.”

Leila gave him an understanding smile.

“I can only imagine.”

Don turned back to Mason.

“Marshal, rumor has it you had to leave your truck on account of it getting blown up.”

While not exactly true, it was close enough.

“I’ll get along okay. If you wouldn’t mind, though, maybe we could talk you into giving us a ride up to the cabin?”

“I’ll do you one better.” Don stepped aside and gestured flamboyantly toward the white F-150. “It’s yours, my friend. Full tank of gas and everything.”

Mason shook his head. “I couldn’t take another man’s truck. I’ll just find something abandoned outside of town.”

“I’m sure you could do that, but it wouldn’t be as pretty as this one. Besides, it’s being given as a small token of the town’s appreciation for what you did for us. Country folks like to repay their debts. You know that, Marshal.”

Mason nodded and ran his hands over the truck. It looked brand new.

“Where’d it come from?”

“Pete Shimp bought it about six months ago. Poor fellow died from the pox, and his wife’s too blind to drive. She wanted me to tell you that Pete would have been proud to have you drive it. She also wanted me to tell you that she’s a very stubborn woman who won’t take no for an answer.”

Mason had learned long ago that to refuse a gift was to offer insult, and that was something he would never do to the people of Boone.

“Please extend my thanks to her.”

Don stepped around and opened the passenger side door. Before Mason could wheel Leila closer, Bowie hopped up into the cab and stared out at them.

“I think it meets with Bowie’s approval,” said Don.

“I’m sure it does,” he said, walking around and lowering the tailgate. “But we have a standing agreement that dogs ride in the back when a pretty woman is in the truck.” He met Bowie’s stare and held it. “Don’t we, Bowie?”

Bowie lowered his head, reluctantly hopped down, and walked around to the rear of the truck. He looked up at Mason as if asking him to reconsider.

Mason leaned down and kissed him on the head.

“You like the feel of the wind on your face anyway. Come on, boy, up you go.”

Bowie leaped up and immediately moved to the front of the truck bed to poke his head in through the sliding rear window. Rules or no rules, he wasn’t going to be left out.

Mason came back around and helped Leila to her feet. With his and Don’s assistance, she hopped the final few feet and slid into the passenger seat.

“Comfortable?” asked Mason.

She nodded. “Very, but I do have one question for you.”

“What’s that?”

She reached around and scrubbed under Bowie’s chin.

“Exactly how many women have you had in these trucks of yours?”

Don laughed and patted Mason on the shoulder.

“Marshal, you opened that one all by yourself.”

Chapter 24  

Tanner heard the truck a full ten seconds before it appeared at the end of the dirt driveway. It was only a couple of hours past dawn, and the morning still had a sticky wetness to it. He had been hoping to pull in a few fish before the day got too hot, but unexpected visitors could change those plans.

He set the fishing poles down on the porch and picked up his sawed-off shotgun from beside one of the rocking chairs.

Samantha popped her head out through the front door.

“Who is it?”

“Don’t know yet.”

She stepped out to stand beside him with her rifle in hand.

“Should we take cover?”

“Not just yet.”

They watched as a white Ford F-150 slowly wound its way up the drive. It came to a stop in the small gravel lot alongside their motorcycle and the red Hummer. An enormous dog hopped down from the bed of the truck and came around to stand by the driver’s door. The door swung open, and a man stepped out of the cab, wearing jeans and a sport coat. He had thick brown hair and a confident stride. A semi-automatic pistol hung at his side.

Tanner said nothing, but a smile slowly crept over his face.

“It’s him, isn’t it?” said Samantha. “It’s your son, Mason.”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “It’s my boy.”

They watched as Mason stepped around and opened the passenger-side door. An attractive dark-haired woman slowly climbed out, leaning on him for support. One pant leg had been cut off at the knee, and her calf was wrapped in a thick white bandage.

Tanner walked slowly down the steps, and Samantha followed. Mason had one arm helping to support the woman, but as they got closer, he reached out with the other hand and patted Tanner on the shoulder.

“I heard you’ve been out causing trouble,” he said with a warm smile.

Tanner immediately stepped forward and hugged them both. The woman started to object, but in the end only sighed, accepting that she was part of an awkward group hug.

After a long moment, Tanner finally let them go.

“Who’s the pretty lady?” he asked, surprised to see that it wasn’t the doctor who had taken the tracker out of Samantha’s arm. From what he had understood, she and Mason had been something of an item.

“I’m Leila,” she said with a smile.

Bowie yawned loudly.

“And that’s my dog, Bowie,” said Mason.

Tanner leaned over and gave the dog a quick pat.

“You know me,” he said. “I’ve always loved dogs.”

“You
what
?” said Samantha.

“Hush, child,” he said, quickly pulling her forward. “Everyone, this is Samantha.”

She reached out and offered her hand to Mason.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Marshal Raines.”

He shook her hand and smiled.

“Nice to meet you, Samantha.”

She eyed his pistol. “Tanner says you might be the fastest gunfighter in the entire world.”

Mason glanced over at Tanner, who gave only a quick nod.

“I see he’s still carrying elephant guns.”

She furrowed her brow. “That’s a Remington 1100 shotgun, cut off to sixteen inches. It definitely wouldn’t kill an elephant. At least not the one we ran into.”

Mason smiled and shook his head.

“And I also see that he’s started on your education.”

She shrugged. “We teach each other.”

Leila shifted a little, trying to balance on one foot.

“What do you say we get inside?” said Mason. “She shouldn’t be standing any more than necessary.”

 “I’ve got an easy fix for that,” said Tanner. Before anyone could object, he stepped forward and scooped her up into his arms. As he turned and started for the cabin, he said, “How’d you get yourself hurt, darlin’?”

“Uh—shot,” was all she could manage.

“Yep, that happens.”

Leila looked back at Mason and made a concerned face.

He smiled and shook his head. She might as well learn right away that there was no one quite like Tanner Raines.