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

been listening to too many stories about these hicks. They are not immortal. They bleed like all of us and tonight the crowd will witness that. I mean, can it get any better than this? A Native American who has taken the fall for our scalpings, a Riker who has dared to defy us, and a Strickland who has hidden his past. It seems almost too good to be true. I swear God just dumped it into my lap. In fact, some days I wonder if God is jealous of me.”

Elijah looked at him then set his drink down without touching it. “Don’t think too highly of yourself, captain. It might be your undoing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that we are risking a lot tonight. We could lose good men. I don’t like that. We’ve already lost more than I care to mention. Our numbers are down.”

The captain slung his arm around his shoulder. “Elijah, relax. Look outside. Look at how many people are gathered. My friend, our numbers are up. Soon, we won’t be limited to fifty, we will have over a thousand at our beck and call. This is what we envisioned when we started the militia.”

“I thought it was to help this country?”

“It is, my friend. But we can’t do that alone. And do you think we can help the country by following a gutless weed like the sheriff?” He laughed. “C’mon. We have put in our time, we have served this county, now let it serve us.”

Elijah shook his head, seemingly unconvinced. He was faltering. Benjamin couldn’t have that. Not from his second in command. “Why don’t we just put them in jail? Do this another time. Wouldn’t that serve us better?”

“How would that help?”

“By portraying us as just but merciful.”

Evans snorted. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Elijah. The sheriff took that approach and look where it has gotten him. The people were about to storm the sheriff’s department. No. It’s too late. We cannot back down now. We must show strength. Besides, these people want justice. They demand it. They came to see a show and a show we’ll give them.”

Elijah shook his head.

“Don’t fail now, lieutenant. Are you good?”

He didn’t immediately respond.

“Elijah.”

He nodded. “I’m with you.”

“Good.” He downed his drink, set his glass on the counter, picked Elijah’s up, and did the same. “Then let’s begin.” He breathed in deeply, adjusted his fatigues, then ran his hands over his head and walked out like a king among men. As far as the people knew the execution was for the Native American alone and didn’t include Martha or Dan — it would be a surprise, the icing on the cake.

Chapter Twenty-Five

It was like attending a concert, two thousand-plus faces spread out in every direction. Under the cover of darkness, the Riker family blended in among the crowd, their faces hidden by hats and pandemic masks. There was no guarantee the plan would work or that the Stricklands would uphold their end of the agreement, but the alternative wasn’t much better.

On the way in, Colby had noted the lack of militia.

He figured there were roughly twenty, the other thirty had to be in town, on rooftops, blocking roads, or positioned elsewhere. Just as he anticipated.

To avoid a confrontation, they’d approached by water and slipped into the tide of people unnoticed. He’d contemplated many ways of handling this matter. None of which were perfect. Waging an all-out assault would have been too dangerous for them and those gathered. Innocents would have been caught in the crossfire. Even if they got the upper hand, they would lose the people, and that was where the county’s strength lay. No, too many innocents had died. They had to be careful.

It was also the reason he opted to walk among the people. A sudden gunshot from the militia would only turn the crowd on them. And right now they were doing this for the crowd. Without the people they were nothing.

A hush fell over the crowd as the people parted and Captain Evans and Lieutenant Hale appeared, striding confidently towards a makeshift wooden stage that had been erected so that everyone could witness the execution.

Colby scanned faces but his mother was nowhere to be seen.

The captain turned to face the crowd. For a minute his eyes roamed. Was he searching for him? “Thank you all for coming,” Evans said, speaking clearly through a handheld megaphone so all could hear. “Bring them out,” he bellowed. A truck backed up and the crowd parted. Soldiers hopped out and came around to the rear and opened it. A moment later, Paco, his mother, and Dan were strong-armed out up onto the stage. Their wrists were bound, their ankles shackled like common criminals. A gasp escaped the crowd to the pleasure of the captain. His mother stumbled forward and fell, but was quickly brought back up again and made to continue. Her clothes were torn, her face bruised. All of them looked as if they had endured a beating.

“Are they here yet?” Colby asked Dylan who stood nearby.

Dylan turned to one of their cousins and he quickly disappeared through the crowd to find out. Within minutes he returned with a firm no. Colby didn’t like it. He’d seen the way Hank had initially responded. He hadn’t immediately agreed. Instead, he accused him of trying to manipulate them by showing up with someone that looked like Skye. He wasn’t far wrong. He knew going alone to the Strickland farm could have incited a fight but with Alicia by his side, the reaction was far different. It was one of shock. Taken aback by her similarity to Skye, they gave him a foot in the door, enough to talk to them. Fortunately, Ruth and Samuel had been the ones to change Hank’s mind.

Still, they should have been here by now.

Without them, this would go sideways.

The plan relied on the very opposite of what the militia was expecting, which was an all-out war, an