A Powerless World | Book 3 | Defend The Homestead Hunt, Jack (read my book TXT) 📖

no judge, or fair trial was to be had. Paco, Martha, and Dan Wilder were classified as dissidents and were to face a firing squad. They were to become the scapegoats for all that was wrong in the county. And yet, Colby couldn’t help but think that there was something more to it. Every hour the message repeated over the radio as if they were announcing it for anyone who might be tuned into the frequency. But there would have only been a few that might have listened:

The Rikers.

The Stricklands.

And maybe the Wiyot Tribe.

“It’s an attempt to lure us out, draw us away from the homestead,” Colby said to Jessie. “They know up here we have the advantage. We know these hills better than them. Bastards. They’re not coming.” He gritted his teeth and clenched a fist. His stomach churned with the thought of it all. Despite all the wrong his mother had done, she was still his flesh and blood.

“I’ll help,” Jessie said.

“You can’t even stand, Jessie. No.”

“I can hold a gun.”

Colby shook his head, thinking about the options.

“They’ll have that place surrounded,” he said, rising from a chair at the side of his bed. He didn’t want to lose another parent. He didn’t want an innocent man to be killed, and as much as he hated to say it, even though Dan was from the Strickland line, he had gone to bat for them. Tried to protect them at the department. He didn’t want him to die.

Colby knew his mother would have them stay at the farm. She wouldn’t want them to risk their lives for her. Hell, he was convinced of that. At one time he might have been able to live with that, but not now, not after all this time, not after she’d come clean. His parents were twisted individuals and flawed people, but they were shaped by their upbringing. If he had to blame anyone, it would have been their parents, and their grandparents, and those before them. But blame wouldn’t change a damn thing. Skye was still gone. And his father. He was old enough and had lived through enough trauma to know that holding on to bitterness only ate away at the one holding it.

“If anyone can convince them to help, it would be Nina,” Jessie said.

“If she had, she would have been back by now. She’s been gone since yesterday. I expect Hank has prevented her from returning. He owes us nothing and from what I’ve heard, he hates Dan anyway. Dan stood in the way of them getting their hands on Alby. Then there are the murders. Then you. No.”

“Then why did you ask her to go?”

“Because maybe I’m naïve enough to think that something like this could bring our families together. I mean, pregnancies sure haven’t. But violence directed at us. That we’re familiar with. Neither one of us will be pushed and whether they like Dan or not, they have to be wondering how this will play out for them if no one does anything.” He rose and went to the window to see if Nina had returned. Outside, his brothers and sisters patrolled.

“What about the Wiyot Tribe?”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure they’ll get involved.”

“Could you not speak with them again?”

“One of them headed back to tell them about Paco.” He breathed in deeply and turned back to Jessie. “Whether they come or not is immaterial. We can’t hold on to that hope.”

A moment passed.

Jessie nodded. “Colby, I’m sorry. I didn’t know about Skye. I…”

“It’s in the past. You can’t change it any more than I can.”

“But if I hadn’t listened to mother…”

“And if she hadn’t listened to Nancy, and Nancy hadn’t listened to Ryland. Yeah, I get it. Woulda, shoulda, coulda. Mistakes have marred our history, Jessie. I don’t want to dwell on it. Skye wouldn’t have wanted it either. It’s already stolen enough years. I might not be able to forget but I can forgive.” There were no hugs, no pats on the back. That wasn’t their way. Even the mention of forgiveness wasn’t in their vocabulary. It felt foreign, uncomfortable even saying it.

“So what now?” Jessie asked. “Hole up here and wait for them to show or will you go and try to stop them?”

“As large as our family is, there’s not enough of us and we would lose too many.”

He nodded and groaned in pain as he turned. “I wish I could get out of this bed. If I could just get my hands on that bastard. I tried to fight back but there were too many of them. They…” he trailed off. Colby could see the anger in his expression.

“And with the help of the Wiyots?” Jessie asked.

“Maybe. There aren’t as many as there used to be.”

“And the other tribes?” he asked.

He shrugged.

“Try to reach out to Dakota. There is still time, Colby.”

He glanced at the clock. It was after four. If the message over the radio was to be believed, the execution was scheduled for seven that evening. Evans knew what he was doing. He was smarter than he looked. Sending his men up into the hills would have only ended in disaster but drawing them out, that gave them a chance. Colby placed a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Sit tight. I’ll go and see what I can do.”

He left the room and almost bumped into Alicia on the way out.

“Oh, Colby. I was just coming to see you.”

“Yeah, sorry, I’ve been a little preoccupied.”

“I want to help. I feel like I’m doing nothing sitting around here. What can I do?”

“I have an idea, follow me,” he said, continuing down the hallway. He knew they needed allies, more people to bring the fight to the militia, but it couldn’t just be anyone. They needed the Stricklands. The two families together had more than enough experience, firepower, and grit to put an end to this, but holding out hope that Nina had convinced them was foolish. He also couldn’t go to the