Darrel Sparkman - After the Fall

“You realize, Ms. Stephens, we are not in the business of escorting settlers around the country.” Colonel Bonham had regained his patience.

“I know that, colonel. I also know you are sending out training patrols for your Green Jeans.”

The colonel grimaced at the analogy.

“It would be a simple matter for you to send a squad along as a training mission.” She turned her persuasive eyes on the colonel and smiled.

Trent sat with the chair tilted back on two legs, grinning at Frank, enjoying his discomfort. The man looked like he wanted to take up field work again. Soon.

“How did you know that?”

“There are not many secrets around here, Colonel.” She turned and faced Trent. “And now for you, Mister Trent.” At her intensity he nearly lost his balance on the teetering chair. “You told the colonel you wouldn’t take the job of Marshal?”

At Trent’s cautious nod she continued. Her voice was soft and insistent, harboring a sudden, deeply suppressed, anger. “Have you forgotten the body of the girl you found? Remember Markie? Is your memory so short? Who’s going to right that wrong? Who will find the person that could do that kind of thing, and then disappear into thin air? Who?”

She paused for breath, scooting her chair around to face him. She placed her hands on his knees, her gaze intent on his face. “I’ve been asking around, talking to folks. People will talk to you, John. People from both sides. They know and respect you. They’ll listen to you. No one else but you could walk into a raider camp and come out alive. The settlers that are left, out in the frontier, need you.”

“It’ll be dangerous.” Frank, ever the tactician, sensed an advantage and teamed up with the girl. “There won’t be any courts out there and no military backup. Just you and that damned six-gun you like to wear. You could take your time, John. Weed it out, get the right of it, and then don’t waste my time with reports. Any action taken will be by you, on your own authority. Do you understand that, John? Do what needs to be done.”

Trent read a story once about the old Texas Rangers. One crisis—one ranger. Maybe it was the way. “I always have, Frank.” He turned to Katie. “What makes you think people are ready for the law?”

She answered promptly. “Because that’s what makes a community work. Rules. So people don’t step all over each other.”

He stared at both of them momentarily, thinking he’d finally gone insane. “All right. I’ll do it. However, understand this. I’ll do it my way.” He looked at Katie. “I was going back anyway, Katherine. That’s one wrong I intend to right.”

The two men shook hands, their eyes lingering on each other. Each knew the risks and the dangers. The handshake was a long embrace between two friends.

Frank sat back in his chair, studying the situation. “All right, here’s the deal, young lady. You get a squad. They’ll take you as near as possible to Big Springs, then return here. You’re lucky one of our more seasoned noncoms is in camp.” He paused for effect. “You’ll also get our Number One US Marshal as scout for the trip.”

The chair legs hit the floor with a sharp bang. “Frank.”

“What better way for you to get into the area?”

Katie rose from her chair, a pleased look on her face. “We leave in the morning.” She looked pointedly at Trent. “First light.”

Frank was shaking his head. “How old are you, Ms. Stephens? Aren’t you kind of young to be running around the forest alone?”

“How old do you have to be?” She paused, holding each of their eyes for a moment, and then quietly closed the door on her way out.

“Wow.” Frank’s voice was admiring.

Trent cocked his head. “I think we’ve been had, and it only took her about thirty seconds.”

“No shit. But it was kinda fun.” He raised his hand as Trent started to leave. He cleared his throat. “Son, we need to talk….”

He turned. Frank’s voice had changed. And the only time Frank had ever called him son was when his daughter was killed.

Whatever this was, it wouldn’t be good.

The sun was setting in a golden hue, behind silver rimmed clouds looming in the west. A breeze had found the grassy knoll that stood sentinel duty above the mass graveyard in the field below. John Trent hadn’t wanted to bury his young wife in the common graves, so he’d picked a quiet place that was surrounded with boulders and trees, and had a thick carpet of grass and prairie flowers. He laid her to rest over a year ago.

Now, finally, he knew the truth about how she died.

He’d just started to leave, when he heard footsteps behind him. “Katherine.”

“You got good ears.”

He shook his head. “You walk soft enough.”

She moved around to the other side of the grave, sitting on a chair-sized rock and gazing intently at him. Finally, she asked. “Did you love her?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. We were young. We needed each other. That was enough for us. She didn’t deserve what she got.”

“You blame yourself.”

“If I’d been there, it wouldn’t have happened.” His shoulders slumped with a force he didn’t know if he could lift.

“You can’t know that. Look at me, John.” When he didn’t respond, she upped the ante. “Please?”

Trent forced himself to meet her gaze.

“Women aren’t helpless. We’re not all fancy playthings in lace and bows that have to be protected all the time. Some of us actually do things by ourselves, with no help from anyone else. Sometimes we have to stay by ourselves. It’s been that way since the first farmer took his wife west to the Promised Land. It’ll be that way until the end of the earth. So, it’s nonsense to think that you are to blame. The only one to blame is the one who did it.”

“Did I tell you she was the colonel’s daughter?”

She sounded confused, with a small dash of concerned. “No. You skipped that part. Does it make a difference?”

“He was the one who found her.”

“Okay—and?”

“He just told me she died like the girl we found in the clearing.”

She was silent for a moment. “God, I am so sorry.”

It was nearly dark, and she moved over by him. Her hand was like a burning brand on his arm, and he felt uncomfortable sitting by his wife’s grave with another woman.

“Do you think she would like me?”

He laughed and surprised himself. Laughing was something he hadn’t done in quite awhile.

“Oh, no. No way. She’d be jealous as hell.”

She leaned her head against his shoulder. “Maybe. Maybe, not. I’ll tell you something, though. If she were still alive, I’d take you away from her.”

He looked at her quizzically.

“You were cheating yourselves, John. Needed each other? Maybe? Probably? That’s not enough. You need love. Passion. You need that fire in your belly that you can’t get rid of, your senses full with each other. Nothing else matters. If you love someone like that, you won’t even see anyone else.”

He breathed in the scent of her. “That doesn’t come along very often.”

“That’s true. What did you feel when we were in the clearing? And what about the second time? When you found me in the pool, I damn near fainted. I still can’t believe how I acted. And I can’t believe you didn’t feel the same thing.”

“We’d better go, Katherine.”

As they stood, she was suddenly in his arms, holding his head with her hands and burning him with a kiss that stopped time in its tracks. When she released him, both were panting and he couldn’t take his eyes from her lips.

Her voice was soft as her blue eyes dueled with his. “See if you can get that out of your belly.” She moved her hand downward and chuckled. “Well, at least you want me. We can’t discount that. It’s important, too.”