Who was this Hauck? Hauck knew they were all probably asking themselves. They’d didn’t know him. He’d only been in town a few days, and since then the shit had hit the fan. Most had only met him the night before. They hadn’t been shot at like Watkins had. Or had their son taken from them. They were just farmers. And now they were getting the deal they had put their asses on the line for.
“Not one drop of blood, you say …?” Watkins called back. Hauck thought maybe the farmer was weakening.
“You have my word,” McKay confirmed. “We just want to talk to Mr. Hauck.”
“Seems to me, you’re forgetting just one detail …” Watkins said.
McKay stepped forward. “I’m listening …”
Watkins slowly elevated the barrel of his shotgun in McKay’s direction. “My son.”
Someone scampered over in a crouch to McKay and spoke to him, as the Alpha man stepped back behind the door. Hauck focused in through the night sight. He had a beard—what Dani said—and his face was hidden under a military-style cap. He hoped it was him; hoped as much as he could without ever actually seeing him. Robertson.
“What’s done is done,” McKay shouted back. “We can’t take back the past. I’m sorry about your son. But all we can do is make his death mean something. Which it can here, sir. I think you know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I know what you mean,” the farmer said. He turned to his friends. “Any one of you who want to take this deal and leave, go ahead. I can’t keep you here. To me, seems they’re just buying us off all over again. But he’s right. It’s what we wanted. What we put our necks on the line for. Anyway, I appreciate you boys standing here with me. But anyone who wants to go, now’s the time.”
“Chuck,” one of them said. “I know it’s personal to you, but to us, it’s what we’ve been fighting for. We’ve got businesses. And families, too.”
“I understand.”
“So put down your gun, too. Take what he’s offering. They only want to talk with him anyway. We understand he stood up for us. But you heard him. It’s not like they’re going to kill him.”
“Yeah I heard him as well,” the farmer said. “You all better just go.”
“I’m sorry, Chuck …” Two of them lowered their guns and stepped out from behind the combine. “We’re coming!” They put up their hands. Two others, Milt and Don, stayed a few more seconds, trying to reason with their friend. “Chuck, please …”
“I’ll be all right,” the farmer said. “You guys head out.”
“We’ll call Riddick,” Don said.
“Yeah, you do that,” Watkins said. “Tell him I want a rebate on my town taxes. He’ll know what I mean.”
The two looked back at him one last time. Then they came around the bales. “We’re coming out!” They stepped out with their hands visible.
“You men made the smart choice.” McKay stepped out to greet them. “Just head to your trucks and go on home. Don’t you worry about anything. We’re just gonna talk it all through. Man to man.”
“We’d like to stick around if that’s all the same,” Milt Yarrow said. “And see how that goes.”
“I told you to get in your trucks and go.” It almost sounded like an order. “That’s the deal. Unless any of you want to reconsider. Go on. You can talk with your friend here in the morning.”
One by one, they all took a last look at the house and loaded into their trucks. They started up their engines starting up, slowly backed out onto the drive, and headed down the road, glancing behind as they drove.
“You boys, too,” Watkins said to his hands. “I appreciate you staying. But it ain’t your fight, Miguel and Lupe, any more than it was theirs. Go on.”
The two hands said goodbye and thanks, in broken English. Lupe handed Watkins the two improvised Molotov cocktails. Then they scampered away into the dark fields.
“So now I guess it’s just us,” McKay said.
“And now I got you an offer,” Watkins called out.
“Go ahead,” the Alpha man said. “We’re not looking to make this any more difficult than it has to be.”
“You give me Robertson, I give you Hauck. How’s that?”
McKay smiled. He seemed to think over the proposal, maybe just long enough to make Robertson sweat a bit. Then he shook his head. “No deal.”
“What I thought. Well, you want him so bad, you might as well come and get him then.” The farmer glanced up at Hauck. “But you’re going to have to come through me.”
McKay stood there without making a move. He just nodded. The person next to him in the fatigues waved his arm, and the two Jeeps out in the fields began to close in, the Alpha men ducking behind them.
McKay shook his head. “If that’s how you feel about it then.”
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
The first sound was a spurt of gunfire directed at Watkins that didn’t penetrate the hay bales. With his good arm he hurled one of the improvised explosives toward McKay, which shattered on the grill of the black SUV.
A small fire erupted.
Hauck squeezed on the trigger. He advanced a second round into the firing chamber of the single-shot hunting rifle, and fired again. The man next to McKay buckled, the car window in front of him shattering. A burst of automatic fire came at Hauck from out in the fields, bullets illuminating the darkness like tracers zinging into the barn window. Hauck spun and threw himself down. This was a mismatch, it was already clear. The others running off meant McKay could do anything he wanted to them now. He peered back out the window and saw one of the teams in the fields scurrying toward the house. He grabbed his handgun and sent four, quick 9 mm shots at them. Hauck heard a howl, and saw one of them come up hobbling, throwing himself behind the vehicle for cover.
Two down. That evened the odds just a bit. Hauck put another round into the Remington’s chamber.
Watkins had run inside the farmhouse and was firing back at them from window to window. Rounds clanged loudly off the advancing Jeep. Hauck peered out the barn again and saw McKay with what looked like an M-16 scampering in a crouch toward the house. He ducked behind a baling machine. Watkins knew the layout. He wasn’t a fool. Maybe he’d be able to lure him inside.