Undaunted

36

Colonel Cortez stood atop a rock, surveying through binoculars the body-strewn woods in front of him. His Marines lay where they’d fired from, awaiting his order to break cover.

There were a few exceptions. One medic was tending to the lone Marine who had been hit by the thugs. From the sound of it, his arse had been creased . . . for the second time. He got little sympathy from his fellow Marine.

The other situation was far more serious. Gunny Brown led a squad from second platoon digging through the remains of the beer truck hunting for the three missing Marines. Work was steady, moving cans, packages, and bits of wreckage. The attitude was grim, spiced with an occasional crack.

“I’m never ever going to look at a beer the same way.”

“I just knew it wasn’t Miller’s time.”

“All this beer and not a single pretzel.”

Gunny barked directions that were quickly followed, so he seemed content to let the chatter ride.

“I got an arm here,” a trooper shouted.

“Is it still attached to someone?”

“Hey, it’s even got a pulse.” And eager hands tossed beer cans and wreckage aside to pull a woman Marine from the hole she’d hidden in.

She looked much the worse for the wear, but she was shoving aside those who would help her. “Find the others. Find the lieutenant,” she shouted.

Gunny waved a medic to the woman and the other Marines to the other side of the truck to work on that ditch.

Minutes later, another Marine was pulled from the wreckage, followed only a bit later by the lieutenant.

Gunny came up on net. “We got lucky, folks. I thought maybe we had from the stink of fertilizer and diesel fuel I smelled when I got here. The bomb failed to achieve full-order detonation. It blew out the sides of the truck, but it could have been a whole lot worse.”

The colonel breathed a short prayer and concentrated on the other problem at hand. He’d stood, an easy target for anyone to shoot at for a good five minutes.

No one had taken a potshot at him.

He wasn’t too worried about being hit. From the looks of their shooting, the safest place to be was in front of any gun these jokers were waving. What was it that made a civilian with a gun think they could stand on the same battlefield with a professional like these Marines and live?

That these dudes were alive, they owed to Wardhaven policy of avoiding unnecessary civilian casualties and one Princess Longknife making sure her Marines had a good supply of Colt-Pfizer’s best darts of nonlethal intent.

Which was no guarantee that all the sleeping beauties spread out in the woods in front of the colonel would survive the experience.

A sleepy dart could rip through a man’s neck. A fallen man could suffocate in the mud. The drugs could bring on a heart attack, or any number of bad-luck things could turn a survivable incident into a trip to the morgue. Sorry about that. Please accept our apologies.

That no one had taken a shot at him told Colonel Cortez that they’d likely gotten everyone . . . or anyone out there was well and fully cowed by the experience.

Now it was time to clean up the mess and see if there was actually a butcher bill to pay.

“Platoons, police up the area in front of your positions. Bring all those enjoying their beauty rest down to the road. Cuff them and let them sleep. If anyone is awake, cuff them and let them walk to the road. If anyone takes a shot at you, kill ’em.”

The ground around him came alive with Marines coming out of their fighting positions. A ragged Ooo-Rah greeted his last order. The cleanup began as he made his report to Captain Montoya.

Jack listened, Sal’s sound up loud for Kris, as Colonel Cortez made his report. “We got lucky. Whoever the bomb maker was, he got his primary explosion, but the fuel oil and fertilizer didn’t get fully involved. Our folks at the roadblock managed to get into the ditch beside the road and survive the explosion.”

“Thank God for little favors,” Jack said.

“As I see it,” the colonel went on, “there are several loose ends here. I got my hands on about two hundred dudes that tried to shoot up your company, Captain. It wasn’t for lack of trying that they only managed to crease one buttock. Am I correct that the local cowboys might not consider this a major legal issue since no blood was spilled?”

“I don’t know about that,” Kris said, “but if that bomb maker put together the one that hit me, I want a large chunk out of him. I suspect Bobby DuVale would like the same. His father, too.”

“I’ll look into the proper disposition of the prisoners,” Penny said. “I’ve met at least one cop who I consider worth talking to.”

“You do that,” came from both Kris and the colonel.

“And there’s the problem of feeding us,” Colonel Cortez said as he went on. “I’ve got troopers looking into those trucks, and they’re empty. No food, no drinks. I strongly suspect you’d be taking your life in your hands to open one of the beers littering the area. Not to say that I haven’t seen one or two popped open. We need chow and amenities unless our shore leave is canceled.”

“I’m sorry that I can’t tell you to relax and have fun,” Kris said. “Jack was right, this planet is not as nice as it wants to pretend it is. But I’m not ready to put my tail between my legs and slink home. We’ve got the lodge. Let’s use it. Nelly, could you call Julie Travis and see if she knows some suppliers she trusts . . . Nelly?”

“Ah, Kris,” Jack said slowly. “That’s something we haven’t talked about, yet.”

“Where’s Nelly? Was she damaged?”

“It doesn’t look like she was. She was under you, between you and Bobbie. But she’s not talking. Sal and Mimzy say she is active, but they can’t get her to answer any of their questions.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“We just don’t know, Kris.”

“Where is she?”

“Outside. I can get her if you want.”

Kris lay back in her bed. “Give me a while to . . . think about this. Would you?”

“Sure, Kris. I’ve got Sal getting ahold of Julie.”

A moment later a young woman’s voice came from Jack’s chest. “Hello, this is Juliet Travis. Who is this?”

“Miss Travis, this is Jack Montoya with Kris Longknife’s staff.”

“Oh, you were that cute Marine officer on her elbow at the hoedown. I met you there. How are you? How is Kris? We heard about the bomb. Thank God she saved Bobby’s life.”

“Thank you, Miss Travis. Kris asked me to call you. She thought you might know someone who could supply us with food and drinks for the three hundred people we have at the Austin Ski Lodge.”

“I thought Duke Austin was taking care of all that?”

Kris was leaning back into her pillow, apparently still trying to get a handle on the idea that Nelly wasn’t at her fingertips. “Tell her the whole story, Jack,” she said.

“What whole story?” Julie asked.

“Miss Travis, we thought the foreman for the Austin ranch was arranging all of that, but thirteen trucks drove up to the lodge today and about two hundred gunmen tried to shoot up the place. They blew up a beer truck and in general tried to wipe us out.”

“Dear God, no! Wait a second. Wait a second. Dad! Dad, you have to hear this.”

A moment later, a deep baritone voice announced, “Hi, I’m Duke Travis. What is this my daughter wants me to hear?”

Jack took a deep breath and started the story over again. “Your Grace, I’m Captain Jack Montoya of the Wardhaven Marines. I am Princess Kris Longknife’s security chief and command a company of embassy Marines.”

“We don’t mess with that ‘Your Grace,’ stuff on Texarkana, and yes, I met you and the young woman at the hoedown. I understand your security for the princess has not been going so well.”

“Yes, sir, we did have a bad day yesterday. However, you may have heard at the hoedown that Kris rented a ski lodge from Duke Austin.”

“I did hear that.”

“Arrangements were made through his ranch foreman to supply food and beverages. Today, when those supplies arrived in thirteen trucks, about two hundred gunmen jumped out and did their best to kill my Marines.”

Jack waited for a second, then went on when Duke Travis made no effort to interrupt. “My Marine company is now holding some two hundred disarmed individuals for armed assault and attempted murder. I don’t know who has jurisdiction over them. I believe that several of the people being held were also involved in the attempted murder of Princess Kris Longknife and Bobby DuVale in Denver. I suspect the Denver judiciary and Mr. Louis DuVale would be very interested in them.

“In addition to all that, sir, I have some three hundred Marines, sailors, and scientists at the lodge with little to eat and even less left to drink. Do you see my problem?”

“I do indeed, Captain. Are you saying that Duke Austin’s own foreman arranged this attack on your men?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that, sir. I can’t say at what point a decision was made to kill us rather than feed us. I suspect the local law might be interested in that, but all I know is who actually was shooting at my men, and who we have cuffed.”

“Pardon me, Captain, but how many of your people were killed?”

“None, sir. My Marines suffered four wounded.”

“And your three hundred Marines captured two hundred gunslingers.”

“No, sir, we only had about sixty or seventy Marines involved in the capture of the gunmen.”

There was a low whistle from the other end of the phone, followed by “Elli, get me Ranger Crocket on the line. Oh, and the general store. Captain Montoya, I’ll have a truckload of supplies headed for the lodge in an hour at the worst. Expect it before dark. Oh, right, it will be a five-ton truck with TRAVIS General STORE written plain for any man to read. I’ll make sure the driver knows to stop for anyone asking him to. I hope your people won’t be trigger-happy.”

“I will do my best to see that they aren’t, but your man will be doing things nice and slow-like, I hope.”

“You bet. Oh, and Ranger Crocket will be flying up, say, in about two hours. He won’t be ready to take control of your prisoners, but he will be wanting to examine the scene of the crime.”

“Colonel Cortez, are you still on the net?”

“This is Colonel Cortez. Yes, I have been monitoring your call. I am senior officer present at the lodge. I’ll get ready to receive the ranger and make sure our road guards are expecting a truck really full of chow.”

“I’d be very grateful if you would,” Duke Travis said.

“So you’re talking to one of those dukes,” came from the door. Bobby DuVale was in a wheelchair, but it was his father doing the talking as he pushed his son in the room.

“Hi, Kris, I heard that you were awake, so I had Dad push me over here.”

“Bobby, is that you?” Julie shouted from the net. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” the young man shot back, then thought better of it and added, “I’m going to be fine in a bit, the doctors promise me. But it looks like we may have to wait a month or two to plant our stake at Ft. Louis.”

“You really think we can?”

“Didn’t you hear about Kris setting up her very own First Bank of Ft. Louis.”

“I heard it, but I wasn’t sure I could believe it, then along came this bomb thing with you and her, and that was a horrible thing for you to do to a poor girl that loves you.”

“I’ll try and be a better husband than I’ve been a boyfriend,” Bobby said.

“That won’t be too hard,” Julie shot back.

Jack saw that Kris’s eyes were drooping, if not shut already. Softly, he said, “Folks, could we continue this outside and let Kris get in a bit of a nap.”

When Kris didn’t argue with him, Jack knew she was truly done in. All of them retreated to the waiting room.

Jack brought Mr. DuVale up-to-date on what was happening at the lodge and all Duke Travis was doing about it. DuVale made one quick phone call and a small squad of Denver police were ordered airborne in thirty minutes. It was agreed that they would assist Travis’s ranger in taking evidence at the scene, along with the Marine techs.

They would also take custody of the people involved in the bomb incident in Denver if they could be identified. There was a very strong hint that identifying those involved in the Denver bomb would definitely be accomplished, and any means available would be used to assure it.

Jack offered a picture of Willy Stone to help them find at least one person he wanted to talk to.

For a day that had started with such poor prospects, it was ending rather nicely.