* * * * * * *
Chapter Thirty-three
Saddle Ranch
Loveland, Colorado
Cory and the group returned from the MacDonald place, informing Mac on the happenings and the 72-hour window for Ralph and his followers.
“The question is, how do we get them out without it ending up a mess?” asked Mac. “They have women and children up there.”
They gathered the security team for suggestions.
“Hopefully, he will do the right thing and keep ’em movin’ on up the mountain,” said Drake, after being praised for his rescue attempt of Patty’s son. “But just in case they don’t, I done borrowed these from Mr. MacDonald’s cellar,” he continued, holding up six cans of tear gas and four smoke bombs.
“That’s the last resort for sure. Drake, I have a special project for you,” said Mac. “I want you to spend the next few days spying on them, as I’m hoping they are packing up to head out soon. Two things: I want a report twice a day—by radio is fine. And second, don’t get spotted.”
“Yes, sir, that’s my specialty,” replied Drake.
Mac pulled Cory aside, saying, “Let’s do a midnight run of security tonight.”
“Sounds good, as long as you’re up to it.”
“I’m feeling much better now,” replied Mac.
* * * *
He met Sarah for lunch up at the Ranch. She had been checking on her new mother, since the twins were coming this morning. The woman could go into labor at any time.
It was butcher week on the farm, and although most of the meat would be frozen, they had fresh bacon today.
Rico had Patty and Joshua up as well, since she had the rest of the day off.
“I’m starving,” said Joshua. “I wasn’t hungry up on the mountain, but I am now.”
“The mark of a truly great chef,” said Rico, “is to perfect the classics.”
He had a contest of sorts among his chefs-in-training to see who could make the best BLT sandwich. Each would make 20 sandwiches all the same. Every sandwich would be cut into six equal parts and every lunch-goer would get a square from each of the contestants, as well as a voting card. Then they would vote for the winner.
“This should be interesting,” said Patty, wondering about the outcome.
* * * *
Sarah met Mac at his house before heading up to lunch.
“Are you ready?” he asked, holding out his new old Yellowjacket fishing pole, signed by a President.
“I think I’ve had enough of the fishing competition for one week,” she replied.
“No, I mean a picnic lunch, just you and me and some fishing. I’ve been dying to try your grasshopper theory, but don’t tell anyone.”
“Okay, I’m game, but we fish the backside of the siphon only,” she said, “and I’m putting my foot down on this, my love,” she added. “That way, if you go for a swim, you will only get wet.”
“Understood,” Mac replied.
“And one more thing,” she said, smiling.
“No more wine lunches for a while,” she said, as she put her hand on her stomach.
“Wait a minute!” he said, jumping up. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve taken two tests in the last two days, and yes, I’m pretty sure now.”
“Oh my God,” he said. “Thank you, Lord!” he shouted, looking upward.
“Oh my God,” he said again, grabbing her and dancing around the room.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t be twirling you around. Please sit down and rest.”
“Mac, you do know I can dance without hurting anything, right?”
“Sure, sure, of course, but we have to get ready. We need a crib and a bib and one of those rocking horse things. We need toy trucks and trains—if it’s a boy, of course—and dolls if she’s a girl. Unless they’re twins—then we may need both!” he exclaimed, nearly out of breath. “I can build it, all of it! Just give me a week!”
“Mac,” she said, laughing excitedly, “slow down. This baby, or babies, as you say, won’t be here tomorrow or next week. We have a lot of time to plan everything out. You have already been shot, nearly drowned, framed for murder, and participated in a gun duel. I need to know you’re safe and are going to be around to help me grow our family.”
“I understand,” he said, “but I am head of security, you know.”
“All I’m asking is that you think about us,” she said again, lightly touching her stomach, “before you get involved in something that could take you away.”
“I can do that.”
“Do you promise?”
“I do,” Mac replied. “Does Samuel know?”
“Not yet,” replied Sarah, “but he will by the end of the day.”
“Can I tell anyone?” he asked.
“Pick a few people who will keep it close.”
Mac had a permanent smile on his face as they headed up to the back side of the canal with their picnic lunch.
He hadn’t asked for Rico’s help this time, and he agreed they would both put in their votes on the best BLT.
“Okay,” he said, as they reached the fishing site. “What are my instructions?”
“It’s simple,” she replied. “Just catch a few grasshoppers. The bigger, the better. Kick the tall grass to move them. Throw one in every five minutes or so, being mindful not to cast your shadow over the water. By the time we finish lunch, they should hit anything that touches the water.”
Mac did as instructed and caught a big slow dark-brown grasshopper with two hands, tossing it into the water. “These are easier to catch than I thought they would be.”
The grasshopper hit the water and was quickly taken downstream in the current.
“That was a bust,” he said, sitting back down.
“No, it’s
