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

“I know our sons did,” she replied. “You saw to that, and so much more.”

“We both did,” he corrected gently. “You were there with me every step of the way, and often enough by yourself because I was headed out the door putting on a hat and a gun.”

“And I was wondering if I’d ever see you again,” she added. “I prayed for you each and every time you went out that door.”

There was a delicate pause between the two. “Sorry,” Abby started. “I should not have said that, at least not now. It’s just with all that has happened over the past two months, I am still working through it myself.”

Micah turned his head and scrutinized his wife of twenty plus years. They had married before his last deployment overseas, and it was Abby who helped him out of the despair of so much unvented anger and pain when he came home. In that and from then on, both realized how much stronger they were as a team than they would have ever been if left to themselves.

Abby looked up and met his gaze, smiling again. “Why did you ask me about the inscription?” she asked.

“Well” he began, searching for the right words. “Because I don’t think ol’ Blackstone finished that final thought. Either that, or he didn’t see it the same way I do now.”

The puzzled look on her face beckoned him to explain further.

In response, Micah reached over and took his wife by her other hand. “Much like you, lately I’ve been thinking through a lot of things. About the war, Tio Zeke, Max, my family and why we are who we are.”

He halted for a moment, sighing heavily. “Right on down to our two sons and whoever follows after them. Abby, what happened out at the Albright’s was not the end of what’s to come, it’s only the beginning. Our world is changing into something different than either of us ever wanted or expected.”

His wife remained absolutely quiet, her eyes searching his.

“Blackstone spoke of the land,” continued Micah. “But it’s not just the land, nor is it really the people. It’s the beliefs they carry with them, those things they hold sacred and are willing to fight for. Once they lose that will to fight, they lose everything else. Their land, their homes, their way of life, even their souls. Somehow, we have to hold on to our will to fight, otherwise the evils of that changing world will destroy us and all we believe in.”

He studied her expectantly, hoping she would somehow understand what he was trying to say. For a long moment, Abby just looked back at him.

“Micah,” she finally said, “I think you have known that for a long while now. It’s just you never took the time to put to words what you already knew in your heart. Not only that, but you also managed to pass that same will along to both our sons.”

“Who are very likely to find themselves right in the middle of what’s to come,” he interjected.

An impassioned blaze lit in Abby’s eyes, yet it softened itself in scale as she responded. “They would not have it any other way, nor would I. They are Templars, and are chiseled from the same rock as their father and those who came before him. As their mother I will keep their safety in the hands of the Lord and be proud of them for the men they have become, and for what they stand for.”

Micah nodded, feeling something down deep for the woman seated beside him that mere words were never fully capable of describing. It was a fiercely strong and glorious feeling, of the same sort of fierceness which spawned that generational will to fight. But this was even stronger and more resilient, for it was the power to love.

Now it was his turn to kiss her on the forehead, and hold her just as tightly.

Around them, the dusk of evening was falling rapidly. A slight breeze picked up from the north, carrying the dry leaves of winter along with the growing chill. They huddled together ever closer, his left hand and arm wrapped around her and protectively holding her left shoulder.

“Guess we had better get back to the house, Hon. It’s beginning to get colder.”

“Just a minute more, Micah,” Abby replied wistfully. “Just give me one minute more, before we have to go back and face down that changing world.”

THE END

AUTHOR’S NOTES:

As mentioned in context for historical background, this story takes place in 1990 on the eve of the First Gulf War. The basic scenario was something that came to my mind during those weeks, a decade before the morning of September 11, 2001.

By my retirement from the Texas Highway Patrol in 2008, a very rough first draft had been laid out. Later an old friend of mine and someone whom I have a good deal of respect for, Major Stan Waters, THP, was asking what I had been up to as a civilian. I explained the concept for the book and plot surrounding it, and sent Stan a short excerpt.

Stan responded almost immediately, first complimenting my effort and then asking a very pertinent question; “Ben, how much of this is actually doable?”

I stated it would have been completely doable, given proper training and timing during the era in which the novel takes place. However, after 9/11that window for opportunity was drastically reduced due to the ensuing War Against Terror.

Stan was still not quite convinced and questioned if I might be giving the bad guys some good ideas.

I replied: “Stan, if they haven’t already thought of this, then they’re not near as smart as I already know them to be. They only need the right opening to make it happen.”