A Pair of Second Chances (Ben Jensen Series Book 1) (14 page)

"Well, the first thing we can do is shut off their beacon." said Ben.

He walked over to where he'd laid all the men's pistols on the table, picked one up, thumbed off the safety, tossed the cell phone on the ground and fired two rounds through it.

"Hmmm... I don't guess that phone will be telling anybody anything any more." he grinned as he looked back at the startled faces of the woman and her son.

"Uh... You didn't have any sort of a sentimental connection with that thing did you?" he asked, flipping a thumb at the shattered phone behind him as he walked back over to the teary eyed pair. "Guess I should have asked first!"

"No... I uh... Oh... it... uh... No!" Amanda stuttered not knowing what to say in her confusion.

Behind him Ben heard the loudmouth, the one he'd taken down first, groan. The man lay on his stomach whimpering and groaning in pain, his hands tied behind his back and then to his bound ankles.

"Excuse me." he said to Amanda and walked over to the groaner.

Squatting beside him Ben spoke quietly, lifting his hat with one hand and running the fingers of his other through his hair; "I figure you've got a few busted ribs and likely, judging by the hoof prints on your back, probably some cracked vertebrae big fella. Damn, that's got to hurt! Hell, it would'a killed me!" he laughed.

Replacing his felt hat and leaning in closer, a hard edge entered his voice; "You really ought to look into a different line of work... you black bastard!" Laughing, Ben stood and continued; " 'cause I got to tell you son, you just ain't no good a'tall at this'un!" He ended his soliloquy by slamming the toe of his boot into the broken man's side, producing another choking groan of pain.

Ben turned his head slightly and looked toward the blond woman and her small son still standing in front of their tent watching him, before returning his focus to the trussed man lying in front of him.

"I have a suggestion for you fellas. I'm not sure where ya'll are from, you do talk with kind of a purty accent! But, we don't care much for such as you 'round here. My suggestion? When you can, and I'd make it quick! I'd load your sorry, wind suckin' asses back into that Yukon yonder... and un-ass Montana!"

He looked down at the man, took a deep breath, nodded and turned away, walking back to the lady and her son.

Chapter
15

"Way I see it... you need to get gone from here, asap. Like it or not, it also looks like it's falling on me to make sure you do, and I'll do just that. I'll get you out of here... so... let's get your gear in the car, and get you gone!" Speaking loud enough to make sure those that were conscious could hear; "We'll figure the rest out once I get you down to Red Lodge!"

Ben spoke like the Sergeant he'd been, expecting no resistance, and getting what he expected.

It only took but a very few minutes to roll their sleeping bags, pack up the cooking gear, take down the tent and get it all loaded into Amanda's car. The last of the packing was done when Ben added a little of his own gear as he unsaddled his horse and kicked him loose, with a slap on the hip, to send him running on after the other horses. The saddle and blankets, along with his bridle, he threw on the back seat, filling what little space remained beside the boy's car seat.

His pack horses, carrying their loads had not been inclined to run on with the herd and had stopped just past the campground. Ben stripped off their packs and piled them against a tree. Those packs didn't make much of a pile. He tended to camp light when he was driving a herd.

The horses he unhaltered, and slapping one with the tail of a lead rope, sent them loping off after the herd. He had confidence that given time, the whole lot would find their way back to their home range. If not, he'd found 'em once, he could hunt 'em up again.

He stood for a minute looking at that pile of gear and thinking. There was little he could do but leave it... There just wasn't room in that little car. He tried to think of anything in the pile that could be used by these men to identify him, and give them a lead. Nothing had a brand or even a name. It was just worn, and nearly worn out, camp gear. All it would say was that some cowboy had used it, and used it hard. That shouldn't help them find him. Not in Montana. He'd come back for it later, if he was able.

Ben wondered what the hell had he gotten himself into. He didn't have time to come riding to the rescue of some woman and her kid, no matter how bad a situation they'd got themselves in. If he was going to save what was left of his ranch he had to concentrate on that. Not get his self mixed up in a fight with a bunch of Chicago drug dealers!

When he walked back up to the car Amanda was just finishing strapping Timmy into his seat. She stood up and turned to Ben. Her head was still spinning in a fog from the speed and violence with which her morning had changed directions, and then reversed again, in the last hour.

Ben stuck out his hand as he stepped up to her; "Howdy Ma'am... Ben Jensen"

"Huh? wha..." she started to speak in her confusion.

"Me Ma'am... my name is Ben Jensen. Thought if we're gonna be spending some time together, and I'm gonna drive you out of here, you should know my name." he said, standing there with his hand extended.

Amanda, for the first time since the start of this... wild hour... laughed.

"Oh... Yes...sure... right..." she reached out in sheepish confusion and took Ben's hand; "Amanda, Amanda Blake... and my son is Timmy... Timothy." She said looking at Timmy in his car seat. Turning back to Ben the serious, guarded look returned to her face, and she tried to speak, trying to catch her balance. "I'm sorry... everything is... I don't know... Thank You Ben Jensen. Thank You. You can't have any idea of what you have saved us from." She told him... holding his hand with both of hers.

"Oh, you might be surprised at what I can imagine!" he grinned back at her. "Now, if I can have my hand back... let's get ourselves out of here!... and I'm driving!" he said as he snatched the keys out of her hand.

Amanda laughed again, releasing his hand; "Yes! OK! That would be good! Let's go!"

They jumped in the car and slammed the doors. Ben twisted the key spinning the motor to life. He looked over at Amanda as he shifted the transmission into gear and thought to himself; "That is one beautiful woman... How in the Hell did she manage to get herself into this kind of predicament?"

Then, as he fishtailed the car around the blocking Yukon and out of the campsite, with the tires kicking up a rooster tail of gravel and dust, he called to the tied men; "Good luck girls! Hope ya'll get yourselves untied... before the Bears show up for breakfast! Haaaaa ha ha ha ha!"

If a Saturn can roar, they roared out of the camp and on down the forest road. The car wallowed back and forth, left and right on the heavily graveled surface, until he slid it to a stop where the forest service road returned to the pavement at hwy 78.

In front of them, across the road was a green road marker sign. An arrow beside RED LODGE pointed to the right and said 33 miles. Another pointed left to COLUMBUS and said 25.

Ben floored the accelerator and the car spun up another rattling tail of gravel, as the car fishtailed onto the pavement, and turned left.

Amanda looked at him with a feeling of alarm. "Back there, in the campground... you said Red Lodge. You said you were going to take us to Red Lodge!"

Ben looked at her as the car accelerated up the road. "Yup, I did."

"Well? Red Lodge is behind us. I can read. I saw the sign." she said, her fear swelling.

Ben looked at her again, grinning. "Look Amanda, relax, you're safe now, I swear. That Red Lodge crap was not for you... it was for them" He gestured behind them with a flip of his head, and a poke of his thumb over his shoulder; "You want to get clear of them? We need a bit of time, maybe that lil' lie will send 'em a few miles the wrong way and allow us a lil' time to... sort out your situation. With any luck, they'll think I'm just a dumb, bad smellin' cowboy." and he grinned again.

Amanda didn't know this strange man, this old cowboy. She had no real reason to put any faith in him. All she'd really seen of him so far had been brutal, merciless, raging, violence. Yet, something inside her, some instinct whispered to her that she could do just that. She could trust this man. Something, a voice deep within her that she didn't know, murmured to her that she, and her son; were indeed, safe. A small, almost unheard voice whispered that, for the first time in her life, she had met a man that she could trust... She had met a man who knew the meaning of the word, Honor. That small, quiet voice speaking from that hidden place, deep in the back of her mind, gave her hope.

It was the strangest and most wonderful thing she'd ever felt. It stood right up there with that sensation she'd been having, from their growing freedom, that she still couldn't put a name to; and the joy she felt any time she looked at her son.

"OK... I'm relaxed now... So... If you're not taking me to Red Lodge, where ARE we going?" She asked, sitting turned in her seat, back to the door... a small knot of fear, still hiding in her belly.

"Well first, you're gonna sit square and put on your seatbelt!" Ben grinned one more time; "Don't need his momma" nodding at Timmy in the back seat "gettin' herself killed by my bad driving, not after I've gone through all the trouble to whup half of Chicago on your account!"

Amanda couldn't help herself, she laughed. Here she was, in what was literally at this point, a life and death struggle for the survival of her and her son, and she laughed. A wild Montana cowboy had come crashing out of the trees on a horse! Whipped the whole gang like in some western movie... now he sat there grinning at her and joking about her seat belt!

She turned in her seat, still laughing and fastened the belt. "OK Mr. Safety... My belt is secure, where are we going?"

"West" Ben answered; "over to the base of that ridge". He pointed at a low range of hills a few miles away. "I have a ranch there... or at least the ruins of a ranch. We'll go there first, and figure out what to do."

"I'm sorry about all this. It's not your problem... you don't want to get mixed up in my problems... I..."

Ben cut her off; "Look Amanda, it appears I'm already mixed up in it. I doubt those boys are going to take my advice, they ain't gonna pack up and leave Montana, and to tell the truth, they didn't appear to me to be the forgiving type... They saw you leave with me, so me is who they're gonna set to lookin' for. We might do ourselves a favor and forget wasting any time beatin' our gums about me not getting involved. In their eyes, I already am."

"They'll kill you Ben. If they find us they won't just kill me, they'll kill you."

"Right to the point eh? I like that in a woman! But, truly? You're a bit young for me, don't you think?" He laughed; "and, kill me? really? hmmm... if that's so, it seems likely they're needful of doin' considerable polishing on their killing skills. 'cause darlin'? This Ol' Buster ain't an easy kill!" He looked at her for a moment, head turned away from the road in front of them, and laughed. She noticed that Ben's laugh had a hard edge to it.

"Yeah... I noticed" she told him with raised eyebrows. She'd known the man less than an hour and had already seen what lay under the smiling, laughing, facade. The laughter and jokes seemed genuine, just as the fiery rage she'd witnessed back in the campground was no less genuine. Ben Jensen was a man of curious contradictions.

It took less then 45 minutes to hook around on the pavement to the gate where the ranch road ran back to Ben's "ruins" of a ranch.

He slid the car up to the porch of the ragged little cabin in a cloud of dust.

AH came running up to the strange car, jumping and barking; warning it that it didn't belong, until Ben threw his door open and hollered; "Shut up ya worthless mutt! Behave yourself, we got company!"

The dog went from raging guard dog to groveling, whining, moocher as if on command.

Ben pulled himself up out of the little car, grabbed the dogs great head in his hands and shook it. "What the hell dog! Ya act like you missed me. I've only been gone a couple of days!" and he laughed yet again. The thought crossed his mind, standing there rubbing the dogs head; "Strange, I haven't laughed so much in years... wonder if I'm going senile?"

He turned his head to Amanda and Timmy; "It's OK, climb out, he just didn't recognize the car. Just doin' his job. Kinda nice to know that he still does!" ... and another laugh.

"Come on in. We better get to figurin' out what you need to do."

Amanda, holding Timmy's hand climbed the step onto the rickety porch and walked through the door, following the old Cowboy. The sight that appeared to her didn't win Ben any points. Several empty whiskey bottles littered the floor. A grubby bunk stood in the corner. A rough and rickety chair stood beside an equally rickety looking table.

Beside the door as she walked in stood what appeared to be an ancient woodstove, in which Ben was already working to coax a fire to life.

"I'll make some coffee, and then we'll talk." he said, looking up at her as he kneeled in front of the stove. "Grab that other chair off the porch and you two have a seat." he told her, gesturing toward the table. "You'll likely need to get something for Timmy boy there to drink out of your cooler... uh... I've not got anything around here for a youngster to drink anyway!"

"Pardon me Ben... but, it doesn't look to me like you've got much around here for anyone! From the look of this place, I'd guess you live alone?" She spoke with wide eyes above a smiling mouth.

"Yeah, well... it ain't the Hilton for sure.... I... uh... don't get company very often."

"Yeah.... I guess not!" she laughed, starting to pick up bottles and some of the 'bachelor debris' that cluttered the floor of the drunken cowboy's rough cabin. Even Timmy grabbed a couple bottles.

Ben looked up from the stove; "You don't need to do that... just get the chair and sit!" he scolded.