“I don’t think you realize who you’re talking to, Farmer John.”
“The name is James, and I’m the mayor of Weston. What’s your name, sir?”
When he got no response, he continued: “We are a peaceful town and...”
“What a load of crap! Are you going to write me a ticket for jaywalking, Mr. Mayor?” His men all laughed.
“Follow me, Jason, slowly,” said James.
One step at a time, he started to turn in a half-circle, still talking. The men didn’t notice at first, as James slowly positioned himself and Jason away from their truck and out of the line of fire.
“Why do you keep turning?” asked one man.
“The sun is in my eyes,” replied James, slowly lifting a hand and pretending to shield the light from his eyes.
He kept turning, one foot after another, making a few of the men nervous.
James didn’t need to turn around as he heard several trucks speeding down the road.
“Okay,” said the lead man, watching the trucks approach, their lights on. “Okay, we will take the trade.”
“That particular deal is now officially off the table,” said James, now confidently clear of his family and close friends.
The main guy raised his rifle, firing in their direction, just over their heads.
“Down,” yelled James to Jason.
James returned one shot, careful not to hit any of his neighbors surrounding the lead man.
It missed, bouncing off the red tractor he was standing on. James and the man each fired the second shot simultaneously, both hitting their marks.
James felt a thump, then pressure in his low back, followed by burning pain and numbness. Reaching behind him, his hand was warm and sticky, solidifying his guess of what happened.
“Jason, cover me,” called James. “I’m hit.”
Jason steadied his rifle as James dragged himself towards the truck.
Pop! Pop! Pop! came shots from just behind Jason, keeping him on the ground.
“It’s the cavalry,” he called to James. “Hold on.”
Shots rang out in both directions, mixing with screams from Janice, Lauren and the kids. Chance was only held back by Janice’s hand on his collar.
All shooting stopped. Smoke wafted across the country road.
The intruders were down, and Sheriff Johnson’s deputy checked each body for signs of life.
“Got one alive,” his deputy called out.
James was immediately surrounded by family. He lay in a fetal position on the ground.
“Where are you hit?” asked Janice, trying to remain calm.
“In the back. I can’t feel my legs, Janice. I can’t feel my legs.”
“Hold still,” she told him, finding the entrance wound in his lower back, just to the right of his spine.
Jason removed his shirt and handed it to her to slow the bleeding.
Sheriff Johnson called his men, who were still at the jail, on the radio. “Get Doc Walters and tell him we will be at his office in 20 minutes with the mayor. I don’t care what he’s doing; you have him there and ready for us.”
“Yes, sir,” came the reply.
“James, we’re going to get you help, but we have to move you to the truck and we don’t have the time to take it slow. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sheriff. It’s going to hurt is what you’re trying to say.”
The deputy’s truck pulled right up next to James. Janice jumped into the back as he was lifted in. She told Jason to take everyone else home as the truck sped off, back towards town.
Sheriff Johnson surveyed the scene. Scared families stood on both sides.
“We have a friendly fire fatality,” whispered a deputy.
“Who?” asked the Sheriff.
“A local man, a rancher, got caught up in the crossfire, I guess. His wife and daughter are right over there,” he pointed out.
Sheriff Johnson headed straight past James’ shooter, who was writhing on the ground, to speak to the family of the deceased man.
“Ma’am, I’m truly sorry about what happened here today. That man and his gang,” he said, pointing to them, “are responsible for your husband’s death. And mark my words, he will pay for his crimes.”
“Get him up and into town,” he ordered, pointing to the injured intruder. “Put him second on the Doc’s list. In fact, have one of his associate docs see if they can save him.”
“Are you sure he’s worth it?” asked a deputy.
“Don’t ever ask me that again?” he snapped, getting a quick “Yes, sir” response from his man.
The Sheriff wasn’t upset at him for asking, but it was an opportunity. It was the first of many opportunities to come for him to test the loyalty of his men. His girlfriend had been bugging him about it for almost a week now, and she would be happy knowing he had already begun the process.
* * * *
James was on his way back to town, and the waiting doctor had quickly prepared his office for a surgery.
The town of Weston, being close in proximity to Trinidad, had acquired a few good surgeons who made the quick 30-minute drive every day. But once the lights went out, only one surgeon still cared to make that trip daily.
Doc Walters had the three remaining doctors rounded up. They were happy to be working again.
“We’ve got James VanFleet headed our way, and we all know what that means,” he told them.
“You have everything at your disposal, and we need to make sure he survives.”
Doc Walters gave them all the information he had received. He hoped it was enough to get a plan together.
Unloading James off the truck was much easier than putting him in the truck had been, since he was in shock and not responsive for the last few
