split up, it might have been a decent ambush play. As it was, they seemed to be sincere enough. Of course, that didn’t mean one of them wouldn’t get a wild hair and do something stupid.
“Guns on the ground!” Tanner shouted from the tree line. He kept his command short and immediately shuffled to his right after calling out.
The group talked among themselves for a few seconds and then set their weapons down on the pavement.
“Now, back up!”
They moved as one big group, taking a few steps back, their eyes constantly searching the trees.
Tanner came at them from the side, careful to stay out of the direct shine of the headlights. He held his shotgun at shoulder level, ready to make a mess of things, if needed. They were so focused on the area where they had last heard him that they didn’t see him until he was almost at them.
He continued forward until he was standing directly over their weapons. There was no guarantee that one of them didn’t have a pistol stuck behind his back, but getting it in play before he took a load of buckshot wasn’t a gamble most men would take.
“Hands!” he shouted. “Let me see them!”
The men slowly brought their hands up, their eyes wide with fear.
Tanner took his time looking them over, slowly panning the shotgun from one man to the next. They ranged from just past puberty to approaching retirement, with nearly every decade in between represented. They were dirty, and their faces were spotted with beards slowly filling in. If a little mud had been smeared on their cheeks, they could have passed for miners who had just crawled out from the hole.
“Who’s in charge?”
The man who had stepped forward earlier raised his hand a little higher. He was in his forties, a little plump around the middle, but with arms thick from a lifetime of hard work.
“That would be me. They call me Bronco.”
“All right, Bronco, which of you jokers has our stuff?”
“Mister, we didn’t know what Pete and his sister were up to.”
“Sure you didn’t.”
“We’ve got your packs in the Jeep.” He pointed toward the closest vehicle. “I’ll get them if you like.”
Tanner turned to a young man standing beside Bronco. He was short and thin, and had a head full of stringy hair that couldn’t have looked worse if he had crawled through a sewer.
“Are the packs really in the Jeep?”
The boy looked around before answering, not at all happy about being singled out for questioning.
“Yes, sir.”
Tanner pointed the shotgun directly at his face.
“Okay, Bronco, you go and get the packs. If you screw with me in the slightest, I’m going to blow this boy’s head off.”
The young man started to protest, but Bronco patted him on the shoulder.
“It’s all good, Frankie. Just stay still, and you’ll be fine.” He turned to Tanner. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“You are.”
Bronco walked over to the nearest Jeep and lifted out the two backpacks. He carried them over and carefully set them on the ground a few feet in front of Tanner.
“It’s all there. You got my word that nothing was taken.”
“All right. Now, you men load up and drive back to the paper mill.”
Bronco’s eyes widened a little, like he had been splashed in the face with cold water.
“How’d you know—”
Tanner waved his shotgun. “Go on now. I mean it.”
“What about our people inside?”
“I’ll let them go after I make sure you didn’t take anything from the packs. If something’s missing, I’ll take something of theirs in return.”
“Something of theirs?”
“Most likely a finger. Depends on what looks easiest to lop off.”
Bronco made a concerned face but motioned for the men to get back into their cars. They quickly loaded up and eased down the street. Tanner watched until the three-car caravan disappeared around the corner. As soon as they were out of sight, he hurried back into the shop.
Samantha was standing next to the window, her rifle pointed toward their
“Guns on the ground!” Tanner shouted from the tree line. He kept his command short and immediately shuffled to his right after calling out.
The group talked among themselves for a few seconds and then set their weapons down on the pavement.
“Now, back up!”
They moved as one big group, taking a few steps back, their eyes constantly searching the trees.
Tanner came at them from the side, careful to stay out of the direct shine of the headlights. He held his shotgun at shoulder level, ready to make a mess of things, if needed. They were so focused on the area where they had last heard him that they didn’t see him until he was almost at them.
He continued forward until he was standing directly over their weapons. There was no guarantee that one of them didn’t have a pistol stuck behind his back, but getting it in play before he took a load of buckshot wasn’t a gamble most men would take.
“Hands!” he shouted. “Let me see them!”
The men slowly brought their hands up, their eyes wide with fear.
Tanner took his time looking them over, slowly panning the shotgun from one man to the next. They ranged from just past puberty to approaching retirement, with nearly every decade in between represented. They were dirty, and their faces were spotted with beards slowly filling in. If a little mud had been smeared on their cheeks, they could have passed for miners who had just crawled out from the hole.
“Who’s in charge?”
The man who had stepped forward earlier raised his hand a little higher. He was in his forties, a little plump around the middle, but with arms thick from a lifetime of hard work.
“That would be me. They call me Bronco.”
“All right, Bronco, which of you jokers has our stuff?”
“Mister, we didn’t know what Pete and his sister were up to.”
“Sure you didn’t.”
“We’ve got your packs in the Jeep.” He pointed toward the closest vehicle. “I’ll get them if you like.”
Tanner turned to a young man standing beside Bronco. He was short and thin, and had a head full of stringy hair that couldn’t have looked worse if he had crawled through a sewer.
“Are the packs really in the Jeep?”
The boy looked around before answering, not at all happy about being singled out for questioning.
“Yes, sir.”
Tanner pointed the shotgun directly at his face.
“Okay, Bronco, you go and get the packs. If you screw with me in the slightest, I’m going to blow this boy’s head off.”
The young man started to protest, but Bronco patted him on the shoulder.
“It’s all good, Frankie. Just stay still, and you’ll be fine.” He turned to Tanner. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“You are.”
Bronco walked over to the nearest Jeep and lifted out the two backpacks. He carried them over and carefully set them on the ground a few feet in front of Tanner.
“It’s all there. You got my word that nothing was taken.”
“All right. Now, you men load up and drive back to the paper mill.”
Bronco’s eyes widened a little, like he had been splashed in the face with cold water.
“How’d you know—”
Tanner waved his shotgun. “Go on now. I mean it.”
“What about our people inside?”
“I’ll let them go after I make sure you didn’t take anything from the packs. If something’s missing, I’ll take something of theirs in return.”
“Something of theirs?”
“Most likely a finger. Depends on what looks easiest to lop off.”
Bronco made a concerned face but motioned for the men to get back into their cars. They quickly loaded up and eased down the street. Tanner watched until the three-car caravan disappeared around the corner. As soon as they were out of sight, he hurried back into the shop.
Samantha was standing next to the window, her rifle pointed toward their
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