The Last Mountain Man-11

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: April 01, 2007

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Submitted: April 01, 2007



Chapter XI

 Josh wasn’t waiting any longer. Ordering a “Blackhawk” from a nearby base, he rounded up a few volunteers from the local police departments and with the crack of dawn, put the bird to flight. The winds of the mountains may put them on the ground, but they would have to prove it to him.
That young ranger had put his life on the line and was probably needing help. There were others that were bringing horses in, but if he could put a strike force with in range, maybe the horsemen would only be needed for “mop-up”. With Shawna’s information, what could have taken days would now be over in hours.
The militia men were beginning to stir. A night of laying in a cramped position would tell on anybody. One stood to his knees. Having no retaliation, went to his feet. “Hell,” he called to the others, “I don’t think there’s anyone out there. I think we got them.”
Another stood, “I wonder what happened to that frigging indian?”
“ Probably went after Sarge and that woman.”
“Sarge? I thought he bought it there at the first.” In the distance, a “thrup” could be heard. “What the hell is that noise?” The man turned and watched the horizon as the “thrup” came close r, “Hell, man, that’s a copter.”
Tree tops began to swirl. Small branches in the tall pines snapped. Army green came to view.
The huge copter settled in over the camp. “This is the F.B.I. Throw down your weapons.”
One tried to break for it, but his lever action .30.30 was no match for the .30 cal. swing machine gun mounted on the copter. The girls forgotten, the militiamen sought protection from the flying debris as the copter settled on the ground. Immediately, men boiled from the copter’s sides. In a matter of moments the deadly standoff was over.
Josh heard a distant call for help. Turning he saw the two girls aiding a man in the trees. Two policemen rushed to their sides and took the ranger from the girls.
  “That seems to be all of them sir.”
He nodded, “that little ranger did a hell of a job, didn’t he?”
“It seems he had help, sir.”
 “Help? Help from who?”
The officer shrugged, “Indians?”
He judged Sarge to be at least a half mile ahead of him. The woman was holding him back too much. He couldn’t make needed time, but it was to no avail, each time he suggested she stay behind she would flatly refuse. He turned his head to check on her progress. She had guts, he had to admit. There wasn’t a whimper escape her lips in the rough terrain of the mountains. A lesser woman would have given up long ago.
Marie was frightened. She knew she was holding the man back, that he could make twice the time if she stayed back and waited, but the woman couldn’t bring herself to commit to staying behind, so she did the next best thing. She refused to complain that they were traveling at a much too fast rate for her. Her joints ached from the past few days of cold, hard treatment. Muscles she never knew existed were letting her know now they did.
Sarge reached the bike. Elation came over him as he pulled dead brush from the machine’s hiding spot. But, as the Jeep, Mother Nature’s pets had been at work. His elation washed away as he looked upon stripped wires of the ignition system. He shook his head as he saw the gas line carrying the scars of some varment’s teeth.

  Taking his knife, he rigged a splice for the gas line and refilled the tank from an extra gas tank he had stored. Next came the wiring problem. This was the easy fix. Once he had the ignition on, he could simply use the foot start.
Feeling eyes on him he turned. The sight that came to his eyes was one of disbelief. The man that stood before him, looked to walk out of the pages of a history book. Marie stood next to him. A wolf skin vest covered her breast.
He smirked at her, “Found you a real mountain man haven’t you?” He reached for the hunting knife he had used on the bike. “Too bad I’m going to have to cut him up for you.”
The mountain man pulled his own knife. “You can try if you want.”
Though Sarge was a bunch of talk, he did do a stint in the service. He was adept in the art of knife fighting. Positioning the knife he closed the distance between the two. The mountain man had no special training, but five years in the mountains had taught him the ways of the slender piece of steel.
Sarge attacked. Closing in on the mountain man, he brought first blood as the knife sliced an upper arm.  He parried before any more damage could be done. Swinging a broad fist, he connected with the Sarge’s jaw, driving the man back.
Overcoming the heavy fist, Sarge renewed his attack. Like two bulls on the range, they grappled, each trying to overpower each other, neither giving an inch. Sarge feigned, The mountain man wasn’t expecting the move. Eight inches of steel slid past his ribs, puncturing a lung.
He fell back. The Sarge, expecting an easy victory, stepped in, his knife ready for the kill.
The mountain man wielded his for protection. The knives clashed. In his weakened state. The mountain man was driven back with the other hot on his heels. Sarge brought his knife in low, trying to slice the other’s stomach.
With the last of his strength, the mountain man’s arm shot forward.
Too late, Sarge caught the move. He tried to swerve from harms way. A rotten branch on the ground gave way under his weight, propelling the man into the other’s savage thrust. Nine inches of honed steel ripped through his gut. The mountain man had gutted to many deer. The blade thrust upwards, splitting the rib cage.
Sarge stumbled back, his hands at his middle trying to hold his guts in. Again the branch came to play. It rolled under his weight throwing him to the ground. Intestines spilled free as he tried to rise. He rolled over onto his back. On his trip to hell, he looked up to see tanned deer leggings standing over him. An animal skinned
chest leaned over him.
“Is he??”
The mountain man stumbled back from the body. He shook his head, “as a door nail.” The man went to his knees as she rushed to his side. He looked up at her. “Guess I am too.”

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