Ever Onward (53 page)

“Now there’s something I don’t hear
enough of. It gets lonely for Faith way up here with no other women
to talk to.”

“Why don’t you leave?”

The old man’s voice hardened. “And go
where? That bastard Jocco controls the whole West Coast! I’ve heard
what he and his killers do! Faith wouldn’t last a day!”

Josh drew on his pipe. “You could go
east. There’s a rancher in Nevada who’d be glad to take you in.
Other fine folk we met further east than that.”

George tapped his twisted fingers on
his thigh and lowered his voice. “Bone cancer. A doc in Bakersfield
gave me between six months to a year. I’m way past that already.
Faith doesn’t know. I’d like to keep it that way. I told her its
just real bad arthritis.”

Josh had noticed on the one occasion
George had left his chair how he needed a cane to hobble around.
Just going to the dinner table had exhausted him.

“You could come with us,” Josh said.
“We’ve plenty of room.”

George’s lined face creased like an
old map. “That’s mighty kind of you, Josh, but after what you told
me about this one-eyed fella you’re after, I don’t think you’ll
last a hell of a lot longer than I will. Besides, I’ve got a
husband already picked out for her.”

“Oh? How does she feel about
that?”

George glanced quickly back into the
store. Faith, Suzy and Gretta were laughing as Flame paraded
brazenly around in a lime green bikini. “Well, she aint exactly
said yes, but then she aint said no either.” Josh poured the both
of them another drink. As the old man reached for his glass, Josh
saw his hand shake. “She likes Des well enough, but she’s got some
foolish notion that I need taking care of!”

Southern Comfort spilled from the
trembling glass as a sudden pain shot through him. George grunted
and looked away.

“Women can be funny that way,” Josh
said.

George managed a nod. When the spasm
had passed, he looked up and grinned. Flame, wearing a cowboy hat,
boots and the bikini, pranced out on the porch. Her green eyes
ablaze with mischief, she blew both men a kiss, then sauntered back
inside. More giggles followed.

“That woman of yours is a real
looker,”, George grinned. “Faith now, she’s the shy
type.”

“Consider yourself blessed,” Josh said
with feeling.

Just then Enrico appeared through a
hatch in the LAV. “Company coming, Josh. Radar shows four or five
blips moving slow about five clicks away.”

Josh glanced quickly up and down the
dusty road. “From the east or west?”

“South. Whoever it is, they’re coming
down the bloody mountain!”

Josh turned to George. “Friends of
yours?”

George nodded. “Des and his boys
coming down for supplies. Expected them yesterday.”

“The map shows the only road runs east
and west.”

George grinned slyly. “So it
does.”

Nathan Augustus Sayer drained the
glass and quickly passed the back of his index finger over his
white mustache. The gesture made Josh think of a rakish riverboat
gambler. The twinkle in Nate’s blue eyes danced as the Southern
Comfort hit bottom. “Well now, honest to goodness sipping whiskey!
George, your manners are improving!”

“I notice that’s your third ‘sip’,
Nate,” George replied. “Think some of the other boys would like a
taste before you drain it dry? How about you, Des?”

Nate Sayer, a long, lanky man with
silver hair and an easy grin, held up his glass. “Best not go
corrupting the young’ns, George. Especially our young leader here.
It takes an experienced hand on the reigns to ride
drunk.”

“And you’ve plenty of experience, I
suppose.”

Nate winked at his old friend. “I do
my best, George. I do my best.”

George shook his head and refilled the
glass, glad to see Nate again despite their different views of the
world. George then offered the near empty bottle to the younger man
sitting with them, who silently declined.

Nate chuckled. “You’ll have to excuse
Des here, Mr. Williams...”

“Josh, please. Call me
Josh.”

“Well, Josh, Des here don’t take much
to drinking. Nor gambling either. It’s his Quaker stock. Hell of a
good boss, but far from a frivolous man.”

Josh looked first at the younger,
sandy haired Des, then back to Nate. In the ten minutes he’d spent
with these two men, Nate had done most the talking. “It’s been my
experience that a ‘frivolous man’ can get you killed.”

Nate’s grin widened. “Right you are
there, Josh. If I was leading the Desperadoes, that bastard Jocco
would have probably killed us all long ago. With Des here as trail
boss, at least we got a chance.”

Despite his heavy tan, Desmond Bardow
blushed. “Sam’s the one that deserves most the credit, Mr.
Williams. Until he came along, we were little better than a bunch
of squirrel hunters.”

“I’ve been hearing a lot about this
Sam fella,” George said. “When am I going to meet this military
genius?”

“Sam aint one for socializing,” Nate
said, reaching for the remains of the bottle. “Just between you and
me, I think he’s had his belly full of what’s been going on in the
flatlands. Jocco and his boys had him for nearly a year. He doesn’t
like to talk about it, but I can see it in his eyes. That little
gal, Shirley too.”

Nate went on to explain how things had
changed since Sam and Shirley had joined them. Faith, upon hearing
that another woman had joined the Desperadoes, showed an interest
in meeting her. Josh noticed however, that her eyes kept straying
back to Des.

“Well then, Faith,” Nate beamed. “Why
don’t you come back with us and visit for a spell? Hell, the whole
lot of you can come!” He turned to Josh. “I doubt those two vans of
yours would make the trip, but that monster truck of yours sure as
hell will!”

Faith’s smile widened. “Let’s go, Paw.
The company would do you good.”

George sighed and smacked his leg. “I
guess these old shanks of mine can hobble over to a truck, and I
would like to see the high country again. What do you say, Josh?
You and your bunch want to come along? This Sam fella might know
something about this one-eyed man you’re after --- beside, I know a
good place to catch Cut-Throat Trout.”

Josh glanced up at Cobb and Flame. The
one shrugged and the other nodded eagerly. Ever since her first
experience in New Hampshire, Flame never missed a chance to get
above the treeline. “Almost as good as sex,” she’d told Josh one
night as they lay sharing a sleeping bag. Overhead the stars had
burned like a fistful of diamonds scattered on black velvet. Josh
had grunted and turned on his side. Pressing her body close to his
she had whispered; “I said ‘almost’!”

Josh, reliving the memory, smiled to
himself. “Sounds good,” he said. “If it’s okay with
Des?”

Des nodded agreement, his glance going
towards Faith.

An hour later they were all headed
back up the winding logging trail that led to the Desperadoes
camp.

Chapter
41
:
‘ONE-EYE’

Los
Padres National Forest

Sierra
Madre Mts.

California, May
9
^th

Bodies lay strewn about like scattered
leaves. The pine blocking the road was still ablaze. Two vehicles
were little more than burning hulks. Like wraiths, forms staggered
through the black smoke. The stench of death was
everywhere.

Roy Heller pressed a bandage to his
right temple and gazed about him. “How many down?”

Nina Escarlo, her face drawn and pale,
listed the names. “Lt. Crofter and his crew. Bersher, Connors,
Gorman and Spriggs. Eleven in all. Several more wounded and Rat’s
seriously burnt.”

Heller swore and looked for Scar. He
spotted him talking to a group of his guards. A body lay at his
feet. By the time Heller made his way over to Scar, the guards had
faded into the trees.

“Bastards hit us hard,” Heller
growled.

Scar ignored him, shoving a fresh clip
into his Desert Wind.

Heller noticed the hole in Scar’s
Kevlar vest. “That came close.”

The one-eyed man grunted, working his
left shoulder. “Sniper up on the cliff. Goldberg took care of
him.”

“We get them all down
here?”

“Three got away, but not for long.” As
though to prove his point, shots, distant and muffled by the trees,
drifted back to them.

“Shit!”, Heller swore. “Jocco won’t
like this! We need some of them alive!” He kicked at Donald
Paxton’s body. “This prick say anything?”

“Nothing that’d help.”

Just then one of Heller’s men called
down to him from the cliff high above. “Found something up here,
Captain!”

“What?”

“One dead male, one .306 and one set
of tracks. Leading east. Small, probably female.”

“Wounded?”, Heller yelled
back.

The voice floated back. “Don’t think
so, Captain. There’s a hell of a lot of blood, but none on her
trail.”

Scar grunted. “Who the hell is that?
Davy Fucking Crocket?!”

“Corporal Gerald Swan,” Heller
grinned. “The boys call him The Nose. He grew up in these parts and
he can follow a trail like a bloodhound!”

Scar’s guards reappeared. Sergeant
Godwin flashed him three fingers and the thumbs down sign. Scar
nodded while Heller frowned.

“I said we needed live
prisoners!”

Scar holstered his Desert Wind, a sly
look on his disfigured face. “Then you’d better hope your
bloodhound is as good as they say.”

Heller brightened. “Christ, Scar, with
any luck The Nose’ll follow the little cunt all the way back to
their main camp!”

“He’s your man, Roy, not mine. You can
haul your ass all over these mountains if you like; me, I’m going
to stay right here, have a few brews and cook myself a steak. If
your man finds something, good. If not, come morning I’m going on
to Bakersfield.”

Heller looked thoughtful, glanced up
at Swan on the cliff, then turned and spoke to Sergeant Peter
Cozens. Minutes later Cozens and three other men were climbing the
cliff. Swan waited till they reached him, then led the group into
the trees. Heller grinned at Scar.

“A few brews and a steak sounds good.
Maybe a little tits ‘n ass on the side. Don’t worry about the one
that got away. Swan will track her and Cozens knows what he’s
doing.”

Scar, his left shoulder still hurting
where Dink’s bullet had hit his vest, grunted and worked his arm.
“Ya. That’s what you said about Rat.”

As Jenny Simpson stumbled along in a
waking nightmare, two scenes kept playing themselves over and over
in her brain: Dink’s head exploding beside her and the one-eyed man
shooting Don. She tried to force the thoughts away, to concentrate
on where she was going, but the blood and the pain always returned.
Dead. All dead. First her husband and baby in Fresno and now this.
The world had truly gone mad. Better to just curl up and
die.

Her foot caught on a root and she
stumbled. Pain lanced through her knee. As she lay there sobbing,
the sound of running water reached her. Looking up she saw a
sparkling stream cascading down the mountainside. Sunlight dappled
the moss, turning it a brilliant green. Off to the right a doe and
her fawn watched her with liquid eyes. Christ, she thought. How can
nature be so beautiful and cruel at the same time?

Limping forward, she thrust her head
into the rushing water. Cold. Freezing cold. Gasping, she sat back
and washed Dink’s blood from her face and hands.

“Steady now, Jenny,” she said aloud,
the sound of her own voice calming her. “You’re alive. If you want
to stay that way you have to get moving. Have to reach Des and
Nate. Have to tell them about Don and that one-eyed
bastard!”

After drinking she stood up and
checked her bearings. “This must be Walker Brook,” she reasoned out
loud. “If I follow it up, I should reach Des’ cabin in a few hours.
They’ll fix that one-eyed son of a bitch!”

Hatred fueling her slim, aching body,
she headed up the stream.

“Shit!”, Corporal Gerald Swan
exclaimed. “Looks like she’s following the stream!”

Sergeant Cozens sat on a rounded
boulder and lit a smoke. “So?”

The man known as The Nose frowned.
“So, I can’t follow what I can’t see! The bitch could have gone up
or down, could come out on either side. With all these rocks,
tracks will be hard to find!”

Private Joe Lions grinned. The gesture
made his thin face look like a ferret. “Why don’t you just sniff
the cunt out, Nose? Christ, even I can smell pussy!”

The two men behind him grinned. Only
Swan and Sergeant Cozens failed to see the humor. “Shut the fuck
up, Lions,” Cozens growled. “The only time you ever smelled pussy
was when you sniffed your sister’s bicycle seat.”

That brought real laughter from all
but the ferret-faced private. Cozens turned back to Swan. “So what
now? Split up, wait here, what?”