Bonner Incident (23 page)

He pulled out the Lapua from the right scabbard then walked around and pulled out the Sharps from the left. He dug in his saddle bag for the box of shells for the Sharps and another magazine for the Lapua. “If this works, I’m registering for a record,” he said heading back to the cliff.

Smoothing out an area, he laid down the Sharps and extended the bipod on the Lapua, then put it beside the Sharps. Putting the ammo and clips down, he walked back to King and tied him to a tree, then untied the lead rope to the mule and tied it to another tree. They had both been hunting with him for years and were gun trained, but he wasn’t taking a chance they wouldn’t run off if the group shot back.

It would be impossible for them to fire accurately from that range, but anyone can get lucky. Joshua didn’t know how the animals would react if bullets started landing around them. They couldn’t be seen from the valley below and if you can’t see it, you can’t hit it. But bullets striking trees might scare them enough to run off and Joshua wasn’t in the mood to fight this war on foot.

Heading back to his sniper spot, he grabbed a few bushes and laid them on the lip of the cliff. Taking off his backpack, he dropped it in front of the rifles and got down on his belly. He flipped the Vernier sight up and locked it in place. Pulling the slide knob out, he slid it up almost to the top, stopping just below thirteen hundred and locked it down. The record recorded for a Sharps rifle in battle was just over fifteen hundred yards at the second battle of Adobe Walls. When he’d shot at black powder events, Joshua could hit the fifteen hundred steel plate, and still liked to take the rifle out several times a year and shoot it.

Moving his backpack over, he rested the gun on it, aiming at the clearing. Making adjustments until he was happy, Joshua could move the sight over the clearing by only shifting his weight. Setting the stock down and leaving the barrel on the backpack, he barely had to move over to get behind the Lapua. Taking the quilted scope cover off, he popped the hardcovers open and looked at the glade.

Reaching up, he zoomed in and then looked at his knobs and rotated his elevation, counting clicks until he was at thirteen hundred yards. Setting the stock down, he grabbed the binoculars and looked down in the valley. No wind was moving up here, but that was a long way. Not seeing trees or the grass in the glade moving, he set the binoculars down and took off his watch.

Setting the watch on the side of the backpack, Joshua moved behind the Sharps and squeezed the trigger. Since it wasn’t cocked or loaded nothing happened, but he dropped the Sharps and moved behind the Lapua and aimed where he had for the Sharps and squeezed the trigger.

Looking over at his watch, he shook his head. “Four seconds is too long,” he said and practiced some more. Making adjustments to both rifles and his backpack, Joshua could move from the Sharps to the Lapua in just under three seconds.

He pulled the Lapua back and made sure the suppressor was seated tight, then set it back down and did a few more practice runs; like he shot the Sharps then dropped it and pulled up the Lapua. Still taking almost three seconds, but he was okay with that and he looked at the end of his Sharps. “Dad would’ve shot me if I had put a suppressor on it,” he said and pulled out some food and water, getting comfortable.

Chewing a mouthful, he looked at the two rifles, then down at the glade and then back up toward the ridge where the horses were. “Yeah, might need that AR with me, in case those boys don’t stay in the valley,” he mumbled and got up.

Walking back to the horses, Joshua wondered what other mistakes he was making as he grabbed the AR off the saddle horn. He wasn’t a warrior but by God, he was going to fight. They couldn’t take what was his with no reason other than they wanted it. Checking his AR, he moved back down to his sniper spot and got comfortable.

He grabbed the magazine for the Lapua and slid it into the magazine well. Grabbing the bolt, he chambered a round and set the stock down. Grabbing the box of ammo for the Sharps, he pulled out one of the long two and seven eights inch long cartridges. With his fingertips, he squeezed the forty-five caliber paper patch bullet making sure it was seated in the brass case. All of the Sharps ammo, he hand-loaded. It wasn’t until a few years ago that he could order lead shot for it, he used to have to pour his own.

One area he did cheat was that he used smokeless powder, instead of black powder. He wasn’t in competition anymore and smokeless powder burned hotter, faster, and didn’t fill the air with a billowing cloud of smoke. This rifle had been passed down through the family and Joshua had a replica somewhat like it that was used in Quigley Down Under, and Gene had borrowed it. But this rifle had a thirty-six-inch barrel, where the replica had a thirty-four.

Satisfied with the bullet, he dropped the breech and slid it into the barrel and closed the breech up. He got down behind the guns and waited, every once and a while looking down at the glade and valley, to see if he caught site of the group. Getting bored, he started running through his mind how he could fight back and got several good ideas.

It was almost 1700 when he saw the group several hundred yards up the valley, heading toward the glade. He had almost packed up and moved up the valley to find them. “Guys, almost five hours to cover two miles?” he mumbled catching glimpses of them through the trees.

When the first one entered the glade, from the expression on his face, one would think he’d won a prize. He took off his backpack letting it drop and moved over to the stream, dropping to his knees and splashing water on his face, and Joshua realized it was high-top.

The two FBI guys came in next and stumbled over to the log, dropping their packs and shedding their vests, letting them land hard on the ground. They both dropped down and leaned back on the log. Zooming the binoculars as the two took off their helmets, he saw their hair was drenched. “Guys, it’s in the low sixties, you shouldn’t be sweating that much,” he mumbled catching movement as the last two came into the glade. Like everyone else, they dropped their gear and collapsed, but laid against their own packs.

He could see their mouths moving, but over half a mile away, the words weren’t going to reach him. Watching high-top stagger away from the stream to his pack, Joshua felt sorry for them. They’d worked so hard to move in the mountains and he was going to shoot them.

Digging into his backpack, high-top pulled out a rather large radio. Extending the antenna out, he held a headset to his mouth and Joshua could see his lips moving. “Dude, you’re in the bottom of a valley, I don’t care what kind of radio that is. You would have better luck with smoke signals,” Joshua ridiculed them from thirteen hundred yards away.

From the expression on high-top’s face, he was figuring out what Joshua already knew, radios don’t reach far at the bottom of steep valleys. Watching high-top hit the radio a few times and repeatedly calling on the radio, Joshua shook his head in wonder. Laying the radio to the side, he could see all of them were talking as high-top dug in his backpack again, pulling out a black pack that looked like a shaving kit.

“I’m putting them out of their misery,” Joshua said as high-top pulled out what looked like an antique cellphone that people used to call ‘bricks’. “Cellphones don’t work if radios don’t idiot.”

He watched high-top fold out a thick stubby antenna and began waving the phone around. Then, high-top looked over at the FBI guys as one pointed over the log he was resting against to the top of the ridge behind them. High-top held out one hand with the middle finger extended.

“Doesn’t take a genius to figure out what was said then but he’s right, you need to move up, but please don’t,” Joshua mumbled and looked at the trees and grass, seeing no movement from wind. Setting the binoculars down and taking the glove off of his right hand, he pulled the Sharps to his shoulder and rested his cheek on the stock.

Aiming at the two FBI guys, he practiced two more times moving from the Sharps to the Lapua and felt good about it. It wasn’t taking him any longer, but he couldn’t move any faster. But now, he had real aiming points he could use.

The only one not lying down was high-top as he looked at the big ass cellphone and then at the two guys lying down that wore the camo-soldier vests. Taking a deep breath, Joshua moved the sight, aiming at the FBI guy on the right lying next to his buddy. Seeing the bubble was center line, meaning the gun was held straight up and down, Joshua closed his left eye and rested the sight just under the FBI guy’s chin as he pulled the set trigger and heard a ‘click’.

Moving off the set trigger to the primary trigger, he let his breath out slowly as his index finger brushed the trigger. ‘Boom’ sounded and Joshua dropped the Sharps and grabbed up the Lapua and rested it on the FBI guy on the left, squeezing the trigger. ‘Pfft’ the rifle sounded with the suppressor as it jumped in his arms. Since the Lapua traveled over three thousand feet per second, it got there a split second after the big Sharps did. And both agents were hit at almost the exact same time.

Racking the bolt and chambering another round, he aimed at the two wearing the camouflage vests. Squeezing the trigger, he saw high-top turn to the FBI guys as he racked the bolt, never taking his eye from the scope. He saw the three look around as the sound of the Sharps reached them from the first target.

As he aimed at the other camo guy, he saw the first jerk as the bullet hit him in the chest and Joshua squeezed the trigger as high-top and his target turned their heads toward the one who was hit. Racking the bolt, he moved the crosshairs to high-top as the bullet hit number four.

High-top jumped up, looking over his shoulder at the two FBI guys rolling around on the ground and he took off, running up the slope. Joshua gave him a lead and squeezed the trigger, then racked the bolt again, seeing he’d missed and the bullet had impacted behind high-top.

Adjusting his aim, Joshua took a deep breath letting it out slowly and keeping his lead on high-top as he ran up the slope, and squeezed the trigger. Running up the steep slope, high-top had slowed down considerably and Joshua’s bullet impacted in front of him. “Fuck,” Joshua snapped, racking the bolt and adjusting again.

The slope was so steep now that high-top was using his hands to climb it. Letting his breath out, Joshua squeezed the trigger, feeling the gun jump. Not taking his eye off the scope, he reached under the gun, dropping the empty magazine and grabbed the full one. As he was putting it in the rifle, he saw the bullet hit high-top above the pelvis, just to the left of the spine.

Reaching back with his left hand where the round had hit, high-top rolled down the steep slope he’d tried so hard to climb. Seating the magazine, Joshua moved the crosshairs back to the group and saw all four were rolling around. The first guy looked like he was holding his crotch and Joshua took a deep breath and slowly let it out, aiming at the man’s chest.

Squeezing the trigger, he held the scope on the man and watched the bullet hit him in the center of the chest. He moved to the other FBI guy and saw he was holding his chest, but not rolling around much. Moving to the other two, Joshua saw one was still and the other was holding his stomach. Aiming at his chest, Joshua squeezed the trigger, watching for impact. 

When the bullet hit, Joshua saw it hit near the heart and moved back to high-top, who was trying to crawl away using only his feet. One hand was on his back and the other was holding his stomach. Taking another deep breath, Joshua judged how fast high-top was moving and adjusted his aim before squeezing the trigger.

High-top gave a jerk as the bullet hit him in the center of his back. Shaking his head, Joshua racked the bolt and moved back to the FBI guys to find that both were still. Moving to the other two, the one he had shot twice was twitching. Moving back to high-top, Joshua saw he was yelling as he lay on his back, looking at the sky.

“Sorry, but I didn’t bring but twenty bullets for the Lapua and you might have friends close by,” Joshua said holding the crosshairs on high-top, then moved back to the twitcher and found he was still twitching. Pulling back from the scope, not in the mood to watch anymore, Joshua grabbed the empty magazine and the box of .338 shells and loaded it. Dropping the magazine in the Lapua, he topped it off and then put it back in.

He moved to the Sharps and dropped the breech, pulling out the empty shell and put it in the box. Unlike the Lapua, he had hand reloading equipment and could reload his Sharps rounds. Closing the box, he grabbed his binoculars and looked back down at the group. It didn’t have the definition the scope did, and that was fine with him.

Twitcher was lying still, but high-top was still moving his mouth, so Joshua just waited. It was ten minutes later that high-top became still, and Joshua lowered the binoculars. “You started it,” he said grabbing the rifles and getting up. Seeing his AR on the ground, he set down the Lapua and grabbed it, putting the sling over his shoulder. Grabbing the Lapua, he headed up to the horses and put the rifles away.

He came back down and grabbed his backpack, putting his glove back on and picked up the empty brass for the Lapua. He couldn’t reload it, but when they started looking for this group, he didn’t want to chance someone finding it. Lifting his binoculars, he watched the bodies for ten minutes and didn’t see any movement.

Throwing the strap over his head, Joshua headed back to King and the mule. Tying the mule back to his saddle, Joshua climbed on King and moved away from the cliff to a gentler slope and moved down toward the group.

He stopped just outside the glade and climbed off King, pulling his AR to his shoulder and eased forward. Easing up behind a tree before getting into the clearing, he stopped and looked at each of the bodies and none were breathing. Aiming his rifle at the two camo vest wearers, he moved over to them and reached down to feel for a pulse on their neck, but didn’t feel one.