Lines in Shadow: Walking in the Rain by Allen William

Author:Allen, William [Allen, William]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Malleus Publishing
Published: 2016-11-23T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Scott drove the rattle trap old F-100 pickup slowly up the drive, aware he was under guns from the moment he turned off onto the dirt lane. Sarah sat in the passenger seat, her recently appropriated AR-15 clutched nervously in her lap. She wasn’t nervous, Scott figured. Just burning off some extra adrenaline from the scuffle in those woods.

From his prior visit, Scott knew where the first guard post sat, and pulled up to a stop well back from the position and shifted the truck into park. Killing the engine, he left the keys in the ignition and cracked the door. Turning at the last minute, he spoke softly to Sarah.

“If things go wrong, slide over here and get the truck running. Head for home and don’t look back.”

“I thought these guys were friendly?” she asked, her voice tinged with a note of concern.

“The Porters are fine folks, and Max seems to be a reliable scoundrel, but who knows what might have happened since Bruce and I visited. Always best to have a Plan B, you know.”

“Well, my Plan B is to come after you, just so you know,” Sarah retorted, and Scott gave her a nod. She wouldn’t run, even if the cost was her life.

Easing out of the truck cab, Scott left his rifle on the seat and kept his hands in plain sight as he ambled closer to the men he knew waited in the shadow of the tall myrtle bush beside the dirt road.

“That’s far enough, stranger,” the expected voice rang out. “This here’s private property, and we aren’t expecting guests. Best you just turn around, go back to your woman and find somewhere else to spend the night.”

The man sounded edgy, but not too aggressive. Probably a good sign, Scott mused.

“Please let Jeb Porter and Max Scofield know that Scott Keller is here. I come bearing news, and a warning.”

“Is that some kind of threat, mister?”

“No, sir. Jeb and Max know me. I was just here the other day with Bruce Collins and a team from the Arkansas National Guard. No, I’m no threat, but the men I killed trying to scout your defenses, well, I doubt they were here to deliver Candygrams.”

As he was speaking, Scott watched as one of the men from the guard post stuck his head out and hustled closer, his rifle held across his body. The man was in his mid-fifties, Scott guessed, with a slender build, medium height, and dressed more in farmer attire of overalls and a shapeless straw hat than anything associated with a motorcycle gang. He seemed to start as he got a better look at Scott, and then he stopped, shouting over his shoulder.

“Hey, Buddy, it’s him. Get the boys to open the gate,” he called, then turned to focus on Scott.

“Sorry, sir, didn’t recognize you at first. You mind if I catch a ride with you and the lady? It’ll be faster that way.”

“Sure. That’s fine. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name when I was here the other day.

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