Page 2 of Cowboy Bodyguard

I hide in the hallway to my room. It’s too dark for him to see me. He’s on his way out the door. I can’t stand it. I have to know what he’s up to. Maybe, it will give me leverage in getting him out of Amy’s life for good.

To my surprise, he doesn’t take a car, or hail a cab. That means his destination isn’t very far away. We live in a converted warehouse near the lake here in Harrison, so I’m betting he’s going to some abandoned warehouse in an unrefurbished part of this area. Where else would you go in the middle of the night after talking in code? I feel like a spy as I follow his footsteps.

Sure enough, he stops at a dilapidated warehouse a few long blocks from my apartment. This one is destined to be torn down, and a high-rise office building is supposed to take its place. His heavy feet echo on the bare concrete. I tiptoe so he doesn’t hear me. My soft-soled shoes are an asset.

There are stacks of old wood everywhere I look. At one time, this building must have been scheduled for renovation, then abandoned. Joey weaves his way through the stacks, and I follow, taking cover behind the piles of wood.

I suddenly have to slap a hand over my mouth to stop the gasp that is pushing its way out. My eyes widen, and I have a hard time breathing. In the center of all this dry wood is a chair. A man is tied to it. His face is bloody, and his eyes are closed.

Joey kicks the chair, and the man’s head wobbles, then lifts slightly. He opens one swollen eye, and his body trembles when he appears to recognize Joey.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” Joey growls at him. “You’ve heard the stories, and you know this is the end. I can see it in your eyes. It’s your own fault. You should have given us the information, or the product. We might have spared your life.”

Joey watches the man struggle against his bonds, and try to spit out his gag. His laughter echoes through the warehouse, and makes me cringe.

“Don’t fret. I’ll be taking out the gag soon enough. I’ll give you one last chance to do the right thing, but you’ll get what’s coming to you anyway. It’ll just be less painful if you talk. I’m not happy about being dragged out of my woman’s bed to take care of your sorry ass, so I’d like to see you suffer,” Joey admits.

My hands are shaking. I desperately need to back away, and get myself out of here. I’ve seen enough. I should be calling the police, but I’m afraid to move. I might make a noise, and Joey will tie me to the chair along with that poor man.

My cellphone is in my pocket. I pull it out, and start recording what I see. Even if a miracle happens, and he lets the man go, Amy needs to see what Joey is really like.

Joey rips the gag out of the man’s mouth, and he begins to scream.

“Go ahead, you fool. There’s no one except me to hear you, and your screams are about to get louder. Tell me what I want to know, and we’ll end this mess fast,” Joey orders.

The man glares through his one open eye, and stops screaming to tighten his lips.

“Aren’t you brave,” Joey states before picking up a thick piece of wood, and smashing it into the man’s knee.

His screams of pain shaking me to the core. I can’t stay here, and watch this man being punished. I have to get help. But, I’m too late in making that decision. Right before my terrified eyes, Joey grabs a red can off the floor. He splashes the liquid inside it all over the man, and the wood that surrounds us. Then, he tosses a lit match in the man’s lap. He goes up in flames. His screams will haunt me forever. The smell of burning flesh gags me, and I make an involuntary retching sound.

Joey turns toward the sound, and I know he’s seen me. I start running. What other choice do I have? The man’s agonized screams follow me, then end as suddenly as they began.

Joey’s chasing me, but he trips over something in the doorway, and I slip away into the darkness as I try to call for the cops. In a dark alleyway, I throw up what little is in my stomach, and try to stop the constant replay of the man burning that runs through my head. I can’t breathe. Lord help me!

Chapter 3~Jack

My horse makes a sudden turn as he tries to stop the cow from slipping into the brush along the creek. He’s a highly trained cattle horse, and I appreciate his quick movements, and the fact that he doesn’t require much direction from me.

“Help him, Remmy,” I order my blue heeler. “Cut her off before she gets tangled up.”

The dog obediently makes a wide circle around the cow, and aids my horse in bringing it back to the herd I’m moving to better pastureland. I sit back in the saddle, and wipe the sweat out of my eyes with a bandana.

I stare off at the snowcapped mountains in the distance, and wonder how I got myself here. After all, it wasn’t that long ago that I was in the military giving orders to hundreds of men. I spent twenty years of my 38 rising through the ranks. I was a war machine, yet here I am, riding a horse, and wrangling cattle on my family’s ranch in Wyoming. It’s a far cry from carrying an automatic rifle through a warzone.

I look down at the Colt 45 in my holster, and know I will most likely be using it on a snake more often than a man. My days as a U. S. Marshall are almost behind me. I’m semi-retired, and only called to work when things get really dangerous. I shake my head, and urge my horse to move on behind the slow cattle. This ranching life is almost too simple for me.

Capturing a wayward cow is much easier than cornering a criminal, and not even close to being as satisfying. I can’t seem to forget the one that got away. That asshole managed to kill my partner, the man who was my best friend. The records say my partner died in a fire, but deep inside me I know that fire was deliberately set to kill him. It wasn’t an accident, and someday I’ll get the man who set it. He will not get away with his evil deeds forever.

I’ve seen a lot of death in my day, especially in the military. Whether the enemy is the cause, or friendly fire gets one of my men, it is always heartbreaking. However, it is also expected. My partner’s death isn’t like that. We had that piece of shit cornered, and Max goes into the house first to chase him out the back to me. Instead, the house goes up in flames, and no one can get Max out. It is supposedly a gas leak, but I don’t believe in coincidental accidents.

Shaking off the memories, I focus on today. “Hey, Terrance,” I shout to the cowboy leading the herd of cattle through the gate ahead. “I’m going back to the house. I’m expecting a call, and I don’t want to miss it. You got this?”

“No problem, boss. Once the cows are through this gate, they’ll happily get to grazing. I’ll be back to the barn within the hour to deal with that sick calf. Do what you gotta do.”

I head home, or to the ranch house I’m calling home these days. It’s been in my family for as long as I can remember. Now, I’m supposed to run the ranch, and fulfill other duties when the Marshalls call on me. It’s their call I’m expecting, which has me antsy. So, far I have no clue what the job they have for me is.

I unsaddle my horse, rub it down, and settle it in the corral with food and water. I beat my hat against my leg to remove some of the dust, and scrape my boots off before entering the house. My jeans are so faded that they are almost white, but I like how they fit, and refuse to get rid of them.

---