Westward Ho!

I was just crossing the Mississippi when my phone rang.

“Hello?”

“Rusty, it’s Ravyn. Look, I’ve been doing some scrying and I really think you are going to need some help to find and rescue John.”

“Scrying, what’s that?”

“It’s a form of magick that involves looking into things you can’t normally see. Anyway, I just called another member of our group who I think will be able to help you in this. He’s going to meet you at the reservatrion.”

“Who is this guy?”

“He goes by the magickal name of Herne Clarksson, he’s a former military grunt and later an officer and he’s also the best hunter and tracker I know. His abilities are legendary. He should be a great help. He’s also a great friend.”

“Well, if you trust him, then so will I. What does he know about me?”

“I told him some, but I also sent him a link to your blog. He’s in the Denver area, so he’ll have plenty of time to get caught up on events before he heads out. He’s also a friend of John and I knew that he would want to help if he could.”

“Great. I’m no tracker that’s for sure. Well, I will look forward to meeting him out there. Hey, one more thing?”

“Yes?”

“Will you remind him that I don’t need to sleep, so I will be out there much sooner than most people going this far. I’m not sure how far it is from Denver to the reservation, but I don’t want to wait around once I get there.”

“I’ll remind him. I don’t think he sleeps much either, but I’ll make sure he knows how fast and far you can travel. Rusty...?”

“Yes ma’am?”

“Good luck. Find John and bring him home safe. I was able to get a glimpse of him during my scrying. As far as I can tell, he is being held against his will. I think he is hurt as well.”

“I’ll do my best. Thanks for the help again.”

I pushed through St. Louis and continued on my journey, bumping up my speed up to 75 once the traffic cleared enough to do so.

The long miles passed uneventfully as I pushed through the now empty fields and sleepy towns of the Great Plains into the mountains and high deserts of the True West.

Less than 24 hours later, I was met just outside of one of the entrances to the reservation by a group of beat up, older looking SUV’s and pick-up trucks, most of which were filled by young Indians who were quite obviously students of John. In the fifth vehicle, a nearly black old Ford Bronco, sat a single, middle-aged man sporting a mustache and long brown hair. All of these folks got out of their vehicles as I parked next to them.

There were 12 of us altogether, eight local boys, two reservation officers, and the tall, burly and intense looking man who introduced himself as Herne Clarksson. I could see by his eyes that he had read the blog and was assessing the truth of things with his own eyes.

Everyone except me was armed with at least one firearm. A couple of the local kids held long hunting rifles easily in their hands, while most of the rest had sidearms holstered at their waists, or in other conspicuous places. I could see several more guns sitting in cases or in gun racks in the various vehicles.

It was easy to tell from some of the looks that I got, that someone had briefed the young men that I wouldn’t be the typical FBI agent by appearance.

“Agent Bones,” one of the reservation officers stepped forward, “I’m Officer Jay Jacks, we can take you to the location where we’ve found John’s truck. We’ve followed the trail of his captors a bit, but were turned back at a canyon entrance about 4 miles later when we started taking fire. One of the boys here says that the canyon where they holed up is a dead end, so we left a couple of scouts to make sure no one left it and came back here for reinforcements. We are certainly glad to get the assistance of the Bureau. How soon do you expect the others?”

“Well,” I replied, shaking his hand, “I am not really here as an official with the Bureau. This is personal. There won’t be anyone else coming, that I know of, but rest assured, I think I can be of a great deal of assistance.”

“Do you have your own weapons, or do we need to get some for you?”

I flicked my right hand, dropping the collapsable baton into my hand and snapped it out to its full extension with an audible snap that caused a couple of younger boys to flinch. “This is all I need.”

“We’re going up against several well armed men by our best estimates. These guys probably have automatic weapons. Are you sure you don’t want some sort of firearm, a sidearm at least?”

“Don’t worry about me Officer Jacks, I can take care of myself.”

I could see by Mr. Clarksson’s quiet smile and knowing nod that he was reassured as to the validitiy of at least some of what I had written.

“So where is this canyon and how do we get there?”

The other officer spooke up, “Just the other side of that hill over there, we have some dirt bikes that we will use to get to where the truck is, from there, we will go on foot. You can run in this heat, can’t you?”

“What heat?” I asked , grinning. “I’m ready to roll gentleman.”

At those words, the area became a whirl of activity as a number of the young men went back into their vehicles to pull out bandoliers and bags full of ammunition as well as the remaining rifles, some of which clearly violated various bans on automatic weapons.

Clarksson, came up next to me with his own expesnive looking hunting rifle in hand, slung it over his shoulder and grinned in amazement at the sheer number and variety of weapons the young men were pulling out, “Damn, I’ll bet these parts haven’t seen so many well armed young warriors since the days of Geronimo. I almost feel sorry for the guys we’re hunting.”

I marvelled as well, but mostly at the youthful appearance of the kids from the reservartion. “Well, I only hope we can get to and save John without any of these kids getting hurt.”

He looked over at me, “Don’t worry, these people are warriors, they know and accept the risks of the mission.”

“Yes, but I dislike the idea of putting so many of them at risk.”

His eyes narrowed, “Any life worth living, is also worth losing for the right reasons. John is a teacher and a hero to these young men. He has brought back some of the old ways while showing these young people how to keep those ways and thrive in this modern world. They wouldn’t be going along if they weren’t capable of helping.”

“Looks like they are waiting on us.”