The Uvalde Raider Ben English (good novels to read in english txt) 📖

"Perhaps." responded Zeke. "Perhaps I might be just vain enough to believe that, at least when it comes to our minds and what goes on inside them. But most men half our age haven't covered near the miles that Max and I have, or seen what we’ve seen. One day we won’t be able to fly these birds anymore and it could be sooner than any of us might think."

Zeke motioned to Grephardt, who was checking the connections on the extra fuel tanks he had recently installed in the Messerschmitt. "Max knows it too, we’ve already talked about it. He’s getting close to mandatory retirement at Lufthansa, even if he just flies a desk for them now. As for me, well, the aerospace industry ain’t what it was before. After Challenger blew up, a lot of things changed down in Houston. A lot of the old NASA hands I started out with are gone now.”

Micah’s uncle paused again, then added slowly. “In fact, lately I’ve had some pretty lucrative offers on the company. Offers worth considering."

"Oh?" asked Micah. There was a real surprise, the only thing that had enough pull to get Tio Zeke out of the Air Force had been the space race. Zeke Templar had been in on most everything that occurred since near the end of the Mercury Program. When Tranquility Control announced to the world that “the Eagle had landed” in July of 1969, they could just as easily added Templar Aerospace Industries to their statement.

"Yeah, and I have to admit to being real tempted. It’s a currently standing offer, too. Lately I’ve often thought about selling out and leaving Houston for good. There’s some nice places south of Alpine up for sale and I want to go take a look. Matter of fact, I’d like to have you come along."

Now Tio Zeke had Micah’s full attention. When anyone began talking about the Big Bend country, they always had the full measure of a Templar's mind, heart and spirit.

Ezekiel Templar nodded approvingly at the look on his nephew’s face. "That's right, and I’d need someone to help with a small ranch if I made the move. If it came to that and I made it worth your while, would you be interested?"

Micah felt an inner surge of excitement. In a way, it would be like going home for him. He was not quite ready for retirement yet, but the boys had their own lives now and Abby always liked the area. For years they had talked half-seriously about a place somewhere in the Big Bend, and there was the chance of transferring to Alpine or Marfa and finishing out those last few years. His mind began considering the possibilities.

"Well..," he began, rubbing his chin in thought.

"Think about it, Micah" encouraged his uncle. "That's sure enough Templar country. After all, our family and kin has sweated and fought over enough of it. Presently you’re the only one of us even remotely near, other than Wolf Zacatecas.”

Micah grinned a bit and remarked, "Well, after that big dustup of his, some folks just might pack up and leave if any more Templars showed up.”

"So much the better,” responded Zeke. “When we get up to Midland, I’d like to discuss this more in depth with both you and Abby.’

His uncle’s words trailed off and he frowned a bit, looking past Micah’s shoulder. “Say, were we expecting any kind of company?"

"No, why?" asked Micah.

"Because we’re about ready to get some" stated Zeke, pointing to the rising plumes of dust headed their direction.

CHAPTER TWO

Standing near the heavy four engine bomber, Micah felt a touch of uneasiness at the idea of unexpected visitors. It might be Jack and Sally returning from their sick aunt but considering the time frame, the trooper seriously doubted it. Also, Jack had not mentioned a word about other people on his property, and he was very unforgiving to anyone on the Bar JA uninvited. Finally, they were a long way from any public road or neighboring land owners, so the possibility of someone wandering through or simply lost was remote.

A person driving accidently up to the field itself was a real stretch, as the dirt lane dead ended at the airstrip and was blocked by a closed gate where it teed from the main ranch road. And judging from the rising dust there was more than one vehicle, which made the sudden appearance of these unexpected interlopers that much more disconcerting.

Yet whoever it might be was likely nothing more than an oilfield supervisor and some hands, or a surveying crew with access who happened to see the two airplanes and took it upon themselves to investigate. Or maybe someone else with an avid interest in World War II history and heard they would be out here this afternoon. Yet there was something more off-center, something that didn’t feel right, and Micah wished he had his issued .357 Magnum still on his right hip.

The trooper idly considered easing over to the Ramcharger and putting his Sam Brown belt and the revolver back on. Or better yet, retrieving his Marlin .30-30 out of the lockbox in the cargo area of the Dodge.

But he fought down the urge and attributed it to too many years in his chosen profession, and to the attending abundance of caution that comes with such a line of work. Besides, presenting a gun at the arrival of a curious public was not in the best interests or goals of the Confederate Air Force or the Texas Highway Patrol. Nevertheless, that nagging angst continued to radiate from the back of his head and he did not like it.

Micah looked to where Max Grephardt continued to tinker on the Me109G, either unaware or ignoring the approach of the unknown