Chapter 2

About a mile south of the Navajo Electric site Enrique called a halt to the caravan of trackers. “Here’s where they lost the horses. There’s a lot of hoo-haw in the dirt and the horses took off that-a-way (he pointed generally north) and the men ran after them a little. Wait here.” He turned his horse to follow the tracks to the north. He blinked his flashlight at the group a little later, and the convoy headed to meet him.

“They turned southwest here. There’s nothing that way except the factory complex on the other side of a big ravine about four miles off. They’ll have to turn southeast then. If we hurry, we can prob’ly get ahead of them,” he explained.

Linc looked to Star for directions. She said, “Okay. We’ll go at a pace that won’t leave the horses behind. Keep your headlights off. We can see well enough by the quarter moon.” She laughed a bit. “Just don’t hit each other, and don’t kill the horses, please.”

One of the men in the back of a pickup said, “Next, she’s gonna teach my grandmother how to boil water.” There was general laughter.

“Enrique, which way?” Star said. Enrique headed southeast at a slow canter, and the other horses and trucks followed.

When Enrique turned more to the south, Linc called Star over, “They’re probably armed, and they may have explosives. I want to set up a semi-circle around where-ever-we’re-going – a good distance away.”

Star said, “I’m glad to let you tell everybody where to go. The ravine will flatten out, about a half-mile or so. I figure that’s where we’re headed.”

Enrique pulled to a stop, his horse drawn to a patch of something green. “They’ll come here. Don’t know how long.” He squinted through the semi-lit night, uphill toward the ravine. “They’re not close, though, I reckon.”

Linc called everybody close. “These men are almost surely armed, and maybe have some explosives. We DO NOT want to kill them, but if it comes to it, better them than one of you ... So, put the pickups in a rough semi-circle around where the ravine washes out. Point the headlights toward where we’re expecting them. Everybody except one driver per truck is on foot. Spread out and don’t get caught making yourself a target against the horizon. Get the horses tied down somewhere up there. (He pointed.) I’ll be in the center and will fire one shot in the air to get their attention. I’ll talk through the loud-hailer. Tell them they’re surrounded, ... you know the drill. Then turn on the headlights, and get the hell away from the trucks ... We’ll see what they do from there.”

The crew scattered then; and pretty soon, Linc couldn’t see anything but dark desert.

The false dawn was still an hour away, but there was the hoot of an owl. That sounded to Linc like a signal. Four men came out of the ravine and clustered around one of them. “Direction, Sarge?”

He couldn’t see them but Linc didn’t like the sound of ‘Sarge’ at all. He fired one shot into the air. “Gentlemen, you are surrounded. Don’t make me kill you all, tonight.” The lights from four pickups came on, and he could see four figures, in black. They were on the ground, each facing a different direction, with rifles pointing in a different direction.

Linc continued. “We have forty M16s around you in the desert. You can’t see us, but we can see you. I’m a Deputy Sheriff, and I’m either gonna arrest you or kill you. You can choose.”

There was a pause. “We’re military. U.S. Special Forces. We’ll live to fight another day, if you please. How do we handle this, Deputy?”

Before he could answer, Linc heard a voice coming from near the four men. “I reckon y’all should just put up yer guns, and stand up.” It was one of the young men who’d been on horseback. He spoke with a heavy Indian accent. They called him Apache Joe ... probably his name was Joe and he was mostly Apache. And he must’ve been one hell of a sneaky Indian, if he got the drop on the Special Forces guys.

“Sarge, he’s about three feet back and he’s got a weapon aimed at me. Guess I should’a seen him. Sorry ‘bout that. He’s a quiet som’bitch, sneaky, too,” came a voice from one of the SF guys.

“Just do what Apache Joe says,” came Linc’s voice over the loud-hailer. “Joe, don’t make me have’ta do all the paperwork for killin’ these guys, you hear.”

“Hell, boss. I was just countin’ coup on these guys,” said Joe with a laugh. “Jest put yer guns down and stand up.”

“Number 26 and 42, get up there and give Joe a hand,” said Linc. There was a little pause and some scuffling while two of the fifteen men decided who was number 26 and who was number 42. But two men came around the back of one of the pickups and walked over to the ‘invaders.’ Their M16s were pointed at the desert.

“All weapons, if you don’ mind. I know you guys have Batman’s tool belt on ya somewheres,” said Apache Joe. “Knifes up your ass and such like.” He got a look from the guy he’d snuck up on.

There was a small pile of weapons of all sorts. There were four hunting rifles, a bunch of knives, and some handguns. Linc walked over and picked up one of the rifles. “This doesn’t look like one of Uncle Sugar’s standard issue,” he said. “It’s not even a good rifle.”

One of the Special Forces guys said, “Sergeant Smith, U.S. Army. Serial number...”

“Don’t you have your name tattooed on your ass or something?” Linc said. “I got it, name and serial number, that’s it, right?”

Sergeant ‘Smith’ said nothing.

“Okay, boys. Tie ‘em up. We’ll take ‘em to the caves. We’ll let the witch have at them.”

They were trussed up and somebody put a pillowcase over their heads. They were gently thrown into the back of one of the pickups – could you throw someone into the back of a pickup GENTLY? Then they were driven to the cave complex behind Burnside North. Three of the pickups drove on the paved portion of the road, once they got to the road. The fourth, containing the captives, drove on the unpaved portion of the road, while the mounted portion of the crew just cantered along on the other side of the road.

It was a little past sunrise when the crew got to the hills. They’d attracted quite a few townies as they formed quite a little parade through Burnside North. Star dropped back and spoke to the followers in Navajo. Then the crowd disbursed.

Linc spoke loudly enough for the invaders to hear, when they got to their destination. “Put ‘em one to a cave. The old man will be here soon.”

Then he walked over to the OTHER group of people standing near one of the cave mouths. Once the men had been taken into the caves and were out of hearing range, he said, “Sam, I see you found your quarry.”

“Yeah, they were pretty easy to find.” Sam pointed to Painted Rock, Wild Mustang, Alex, and Jimmy.

“Are those the bad men?” Alex said. “What did they do?”

“Are you gonna torture them?” asked James. “In the movies, the Indians always torture the cavalry if they catch ‘em. Can I watch?”

“No, Jim,” Linc said. “We aren’t going to torture them. We’ve got better ways of finding things out.”

“How? You just gonna talk to ‘em? That’s boring,” said the five, going on thirty, year-old.

“No, younglin’,” said Wild Mustang. “I’m gonna discourse wit’ ‘em.”

Linc motioned to Washburn. “I think you and the boys should take the kids over to Mamma’s for breakfast. Rock and Mustang have an appointment with some bad men.”

All but four of the expanded posse got up to go home. The posse was now expanded by the searchers for the bat explorers.

“We’ll find out anyway,” said Alex, over her shoulder.

I jumped into Alex’s mind. ’You KNOW you shouldn’t even hint that you can read other people’s thoughts. Just follow along, now, from RockDad’s thoughts to me. AND DON’T SAY ANYTHING.’

’Yes, Momma,’ from Alex.

But I could sense Jimmy’s laugh in the background. Alex got caught, and he didn’t. ’And you too, Buster Brown.’ That’s what I called him when he was in trouble. ’This is serious, now. Both of you behave.’

’Okay, Mom,’ from Jimmy.

I sent to Rock. ’Get Wild Mustang, mostly for camouflage. And go interview the invaders. Don’t talk to them, just touch them. That’ll make it easier for me.’

“Okay, kids,” said Rock, “you’re going to have a nice breakfast. No school today for you.”

“We already know that, RockDad. It’s summertime, so every day is a no school day.” That was Alex, mistress of perfection.

“All right, Alex. But you behave, or I’ll have to tell Momma and Bear.”

“Oooooooo. That’s soooo scarey.” That was Jimmy, master of sarcasm.