Tyranny by William W. Johnstone Page A

ebony sky overhead.
    While Kyle was momentarily helpless, Todd grabbed the front of his shirt and jerked him forward. The government man tried to head butt him in the face, but Kyle writhed away just enough so that their heads scraped without any real impact. Kyle twisted his head and sunk his teeth into Todd’s ear.
    Todd screamed like a little girl.
    Kyle didn’t want to go full Tyson and rip the guy’s ear off, so he let go and shot a punch into Todd’s belly. While Todd was recovering from that, Kyle reared up on both knees, clubbed his hands together, and swung both arms in a roundhouse blow that crashed into Todd’s jaw with devastating force. Todd sprawled on the ground and lay there trembling, unable to get up or continue the fight.
    Kyle struggled to his feet and stood there with his chest heaving. From atop the giant slab of rock, G. W. said dryly, “If you two are through dancin’ down there, you can come back up here, son.”
    Warren Finley still stood near the pool with his hands held out to the sides and raised to elbow height, so they were in plain sight. Clearly, he thought there might be guns trained on him.
    It was possible, thought Kyle, although since G.W. still held the spotlight, he would have to fire the rifle one-handed if he needed to take a shot.
    â€œFor what it’s worth,” Finley said to Kyle, “I didn’t tell Woody to attack you like that. I’d just as soon he hadn’t. There’s really no need for violence. The law is on the government’s side, so the outcome of this whole matter is inevitable.”
    â€œInevitable . . . to you . . . maybe,” Kyle said, still a little breathless from the fight. “The British . . . probably felt the same way . . . back in 1776.”
    Finley’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened into a grim line. He said, “I wouldn’t have taken you for a student of history, young man. Are you advocating violent revolution against the United States government?”
    â€œNope. Just saying people sometimes get tired of being stepped on. Especially when the ones doing the stepping are supposed to be working for the people.”
    â€œClearly you don’t understand how things work in the modern world,” Finley snapped.
    â€œNo, but I’ve read the Constitution. Figure that puts me one up on a lot of people in Washington these days.”
    G.W. sounded like he was trying not to chuckle as he said, “This ain’t a debatin’ society any more than it’s a cotillion. Finley, gather up your buddy and get out of here. Don’t let me catch you on my land again.”
    â€œIt’s not—” Finley stopped and sighed, evidently realizing the futility of his argument. “I’ll need to get our equipment, too.”
    â€œFine,” G.W. said. “I don’t want anything that belongs to the government on my ranch, anyway.”
    Finley helped Todd to his feet and led him, groaning, to the jeep. Todd slumped into the passenger seat and sat there glaring at Kyle while Finley went out to the half-buried rod, took hold of it, and worked it back and forth until he could pull it from the earth’s grip. He stowed it in the backseat with the water samples and some other gear Kyle couldn’t make out.
    When Finley got behind the wheel, he paused and said, “You’re making a big mistake, Mr. Brannock.”
    â€œSo you keep tellin’ me,” G.W. said. “Now skedaddle.”
    Finley cranked the jeep’s engine and backed away from the pool until he had room to turn around. This time he turned the vehicle’s lights on as he drove away.
    The spotlight shining from above went out.
    The jeep’s taillights were like the red eyes of some malevolent beast, Kyle thought as he stood at the edge of the pool and watched them dwindle into the darkness.
    The scrape of boot leather on rock made him aware that G.W. had climbed down to