Watchers In the Woods by William W. Johnstone

Author:William W. Johnstone [Johnstone, William W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lyrical Press
Published: 2016-09-23T04:00:00+00:00

2

“Them folks had a good fight over yonder, Monroe,” Jim Bob said. “Twenty-five or thirty shots fired. Sounded like M-16s to me, maybe the civilian model.”

Monroe nodded absently. “We got to join up with them folks, Jim Bob. I done decided on that. They’s strength in numbers. Send a team over yonder and sound them out on us joinin’ up with them. Whitman talks real good—he’s got a high school education. Make him the spokesman.”

“You mean we gonna be friends with them niggers and Jews?”

“I don’t figure we got a choice in the matter. We can’t use our radios to call for help. This frequency’s done been assigned to us ... in a roundabout way. ’Sides, they ain’t got the range to get over the damn mountains. We ain’t got no choice in the matter.”

“You worryin’ about tonight, ain’t you, Monroe?”

“I’d be lyin’ if I said I wasn’t. Them folks, now, they got them a fine defensive position. That tells me the pale-eyed man knows what he’s doin’. Once we get in amongst ’em and win this fight, we can kill them government people and no one’ll ever be the wiser. See where I’m at, Jim Bob?”

“Oh, yeah, Monroe, yeah. And I like it. I’ll get Whitman and a few others to ride on over.”

* * *

“Here they come,” Nick said to Matt, lowering his binoculars. “I didn’t figure on them this soon.”

“Get the women placed north and south to watch for the breakaways, kids to the rear of the stockade. All the men up here with us. Put a gun in every man’s hand, whether or not he knows how to use it.”

“Right.”

Matt looked across the mile-wide valley. “There could be a hundred breakaways out there and we couldn’t see them.”

“True. And they probably are out there, too. Them nitwits might be ridin’ into an ambush. But I doubt it.”

“Because it’s open country and the CWA have guns?”

“Yeah. But in the timber, that won’t make a damn bit of difference.”

“Howdy, folks,” Whitman said, reining up about fifty feet from the crest of the hill. “How y‘all doin’?”

Silence greeted his words.

Whitman shifted in the saddle. “We kind of got ourselves in a bind across the way. And judgin’ from the shots we heard a while back, y’all are in the same bind. Colonel Bishner thinks we ought to join forces and maybe we’d be better off.”

“Colonel?” Matt said with a laugh. “That stupid son-of-a-bitch couldn’t command a row of fence posts to stand still. We’re doing just fine, boys. Now ride on.”

“It’s a free country, mister,” Whitman said. “We’ll ride where we damn well please.”

Matt leveled his Mini-14, the muzzle pointed at Whitman’s chest. When he clicked the weapon off safety, Whitman started to sweat in the cool air. “Get down off the horse,” Matt ordered.

Whitman got down.

“Walk up here.”

Whitman walked.

“The rest of you back off a good hundred yards and sit tight,” Matt told the riders, and they did.

“What are you men up to?” Matt asked Whitman.

“Ain’t none of your damn business, mister.

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