Chapter 11

Carry continues the Narrative:

Thursday, the 28th of December, started out cool, but the temperature rose to the mid fifties by early afternoon. It had rained on Tuesday and Wednesday, but today was dry and almost balmy. Chris and I were sitting out on the porch on the old glider that afternoon. It was the same glider that dad had bought and repaired years ago, but we had gotten newer pillows for it since then. (see Ashley chapter 1)

It was around 1500 hrs. when the van followed by a limo suddenly pulled into the yard and slammed to a stop. Dad, mom, and Bill Jr. had joined us just before they arrived, and they didn’t have to tell us that this was trouble, as they were all armed. A middle aged man in a suit stepped out of the limo, and six tough looking thugs with bats and pieces of pipe piled out of the van.

“Your time is up old man, you either sign these papers selling us the land, or my boys are going to take this place and you apart,” the guy in the suit said rather snottily while looking up at us. Our family’s reply was simple but predictable to anyone who knew us. Five shotguns appeared in our hands pointed at them, but it was Chris and I who fired ours over the thugs heads.

“Federal Agents,” we roared. “Drop your weapons, put your hands on your heads, and step away from the vehicles,” we ordered. The surprised looks on their faces had to be seen to be believed.

Chris and I had only had time to move a few feet toward the men in the yard when two pickups came screaming into the yard, braked hard, and came to a stop in the dust they had created. Chuck and Roy came out of them with shotguns, would you believe, aimed at those in the yard.

“Federal Agents,” they hollered. “Drop your weapons, put your hands on your heads, and step away from the vehicles,” they demanded. Everyone was shocked again, even our family, only Chris and I were smiling.

“You’re just in time to join the fun!” Chris shouted to them.

“We heard the shots coming down your entry road and figured there was trouble,” Roy told us with a grin.

“You keep them covered,” I told the guys, “and we’ll have a little chat with the guy in the suit.” Chris and I finished moving past the rest of our family, off the porch, and down the steps to the guy from the limo.

“So, you want to bust up our house and our family, do you?” I demanded, as both Chris and I shoved the barrels of our shotguns up under suit guy’s chin, standing him on his toes.

“If you want to live to see the New Year, you had better forget about our land and our family. It isn’t them that you will need to deal with, it’s us, and we will have no qualms about blowing you and your stooges away and leaving your dead bodies up by the big lake for the cops to find. Do you understand me, dirtbag?” Chris demanded in her most serious tone of voice. Suit guy was sweating even though the temperature was only in the fifties.

“I’m just the messenger,” he pleaded in a sniveling voice.

“Well, tell your boss that our land isn’t for sale at any price, and if we need to we’ll pay him a visit too,” I told him before I had another thought.

“Give me your driver’s license,” I demanded. He appeared shocked by this request, but carefully reached into his back pocket and removed his fancy wallet, since we still had both shotguns up under his chin, he moved very carefully.

Chris took the wallet, got out his driver’s license and copied down his name, address, and license number on the papers he had been holding. She also removed two business cards from his wallet.

“These say that he is a lawyer, and a land developer,” Chris told me.

“Well, suit boy, don’t get any ideas about taking our parents to court over some technicality or the other, and tying them up for years over legal details. Neither you, nor your boss, would live long enough to appear at the first court session,” I told him.

“We know where to find you if we need to,” I added after that. “Now take your stooges and get the hell off of our land before we forget that we are Federal Agents and waste the lot of you.” Chris and I lowered our shotguns and stepped back. That was when we noticed the large wet spot on his trousers and grinned.

“Get the hell out of here,” I told them again with a grin. They all quickly got in their vehicles while Chuck and Roy backed their vehicles out of the way. The limo and the van were quickly gone.

As soon as the other vehicles had departed, Chris and I rushed ... well, not exactly rushed, but we did hurry over to Chuck and Roy to each give our guy a long passionate kiss. Fortunately, we are all right handed, so our shotguns didn’t get in the way. It certainly felt good to have Chuck’s arm around me again, and I was sure that Chris felt the same way about Roy.

By the time we came up for air, the rest of the family had joined us over by the pickups.

“I take it that you know these young men,” our mom said to interrupt us.

“Yes, this is Chuck, my boyfriend,” I told her.

“And this is Roy, my boyfriend,” Chris added.

“They went through Airborne and Ranger Training with us,” we both told our family before pausing for a few seconds before revealing the real shocker.

“They also have the bubble!” we told our family together. If we had dropped a real bomb, it wouldn’t have gotten as great a response as that verbal one did. Our family just stood there in shock and amazement for a number of seconds.

“You’re absolutely certain of that?” dad asked when he had recovered.

“Remember the ambush that we told you about in Florida, well, we left out a major piece of information,” Chris told them.

“And just what was that, dear?” mom asked, now recovered also.

“When the shooting started, Chuck and Roy fell on top of us to protect us from the bullets. It was just so gallant and romantic, but they did get hit by as many of the bullets as we did, and those bastards fired well over a hundred rounds at us. They bounced off of our bubbles, and each of us had an individual bubble,” I told our parents.

“We had to get them off of us quickly though, as we were on swampy ground, and the two of us and the combined weight of our two rucks were sinking us into the muck,” Chris added when I finished. We both turned back to our beaus then.

“Thank you, you arrived in just the nick of time,” we both told them, and would have given them another kiss, but our dad intervened.

“Park your trucks in the yard and come inside, it will be easier to talk there,” he told the guys, as our family started back to the house. The guys started their trucks, and Chris and I showed them where to park. They were going to leave their guns and other things in the trucks, but we pointed out their error.

“Bring your stuff into the house, you can stay here until we leave for Virginia,” we told them and helped them carry their things inside.

“Are they staying here?” mom asked in surprise when we came in with their duffel bags, rucks and weapons.

“Yes!” we both answered enthusiastically.

“We’ll have to put them in the spare room. Your grandparents will be here over New Year’s and will need their room,” mom told us. We took the guys upstairs and down the hall to the spare bedroom which was conveniently located just past our own room at the end of the hall. Our grandparents’ large room was located across from the bathroom, and Bill Jr. had the last room on that side of the hallway, past our grandparents’ room. There was a queen size bed in the spare room.

“Who sleeps where tonight?” Chris asked, as we set the guys’ things down in the room.

“I’ll match you for our room,” I told her while the guys looked on a bit confused.

“One of you and one of us will sleep in here tonight. The other pair will spend the night in our room,” Chris told the guys, who smiled broadly on hearing this.

“Actually, we can switch off and spend alternate nights in each room,” I told Chris.

“That sounds good,” she agreed, and we left it at that for now. During all of these discussions, the guys had been looking around the room a bit bemused. It was just a normal bedroom, at least for our house.

“What are these?” Roy asked, pointing to the fancy iron gun racks on either side of the bed.

“They’re racks for your shotguns,” we answered, since it was very plain to us what they were.

“You have gun racks in every room?” Chuck asked in amazement.

“Of course,” we answered. “And there are multiple racks in places like the living room, the kitchen, and the dining room. There is ammunition kept in the linen closet, and there are also multiple tiers of sensors around our property to detect anyone approaching the house and for intruders inside of the house,” I told them much to their amazement.

“You people really do take security seriously, almost to an extreme,” Chuck said in an astonished voice.

“Yes, but we have our reasons,” I told him.

“Do you guys need to shower or change clothes?” Chris asked after looking at both guys.

“We could use the bathroom, if that’s okay,” Roy told us.

“Right this way,” we told them and led them back down the hall to the bathroom. They were both surprised when we entered it.

“Is that a shower?” Chuck asked in amazement on seeing the large glass enclosure.

“Yes, and we’ll be showering with you in it tonight,” I told him before we left so they could take care of their business in private.

“You even have gun racks in the bathroom!” Roy said, as they emerged.

“Of course, we take our shotguns or pistols everywhere with us,” Chris told him.

Downstairs, mom had prepared snacks and drinks, and they were sitting on the coffee table in the living room when we reappeared. Our family was already seated there and waiting for us. Our parents asked the usual questions of Chuck and Roy that they had of those who we had dated in the past: their ages, where they lived, where they had gone to school, et cetera.

We learned that both of them had several years of college; had played football in high school; and had decided to join the Agency as a way of seeing other countries and to help America at the same time. It was for FTA as they put it, for Fun, Travel, and Adventure. Dad knew a different meaning for that letter combination, but he didn’t mention it at the time.

Following that, dad told them about some of what he had done while an Agent, and his adventures after retiring when our family had been threatened. He also explained about how the bubble had saved his life multiple times while an Agent and afterward. Mom had gone to make dinner while dad was explaining things, and Bill Jr. went with her to help.

It was while dad was explaining about being a Blacksmith after retiring that he really connected with the guys.

“I’ve always been interested in Blacksmithing,” Chuck told him. “Alabama has a really active Blacksmithing organization, and I have been to some of their meetings, but really haven’t had a chance to do much work myself.”

“I grew up near Tennessee Technical University, and they have a very active Blacksmithing program in their Appalachian Center for Crafts. I went to some of their open houses and was really interested, but like Chuck, I haven’t had the time or the money to become actively involved in the craft,” Roy told him.

“Well, we can give you a taste of working hot iron starting tomorrow,” dad told them with a big smile. Now we knew that our boyfriends wouldn’t be paying a lot of attention to us during the daytime, but we were sure that we could hold their attention at night.

Mom called us to dinner shortly after that. We were eating in the dining room again tonight because the kitchen table wasn’t large enough for so many. Mom had made a huge amount of food, but with four of us recently returned from Ranger Training, it all disappeared. Chuck and Roy had been amazed by the quality of the food as well as the quantity and mentioned it.

“Do you always have food this tasty? This is even better than my mom’s cooking, and she has always been considered an excellent cook by our family, friends, and neighbors,” Chuck asked, as we finished dinner.

“Yes, this is better than my mom’s cooking also, and she too is considered a very good cook,” Roy told us.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” mom said with a smile. “My mother and I have always been good cooks, and my daughters are nearly as good as we are. They just need a bit more practice,” mom told the guys, who smiled at Chris and me.

Following dinner, we ladies adjourned to the kitchen to do the cleanup while the men had a few beers though Bill Jr. only got one beer. Mom had something that she wanted to talk to us about while we worked.

“You girls have had sex with Chuck and Roy, haven’t you?” mom asked, when we were alone in the kitchen. I looked over at Chris and wondered what was coming.

“Yes,” we both answered cautiously.