it. He stared down at Nolan in surprise.
“And here’s one for the wife,” Nolan said. He swung again and cracked the iron against Robert’s hipbone.
As Robert pitched backward, he grabbed Nolan’s hair and pulled him into the reservoir with him. The water was ice cold and set his lungs on fire. Nolan let go of his club and began to claw at Robert’s face. Robert grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him toward the bottom, until he felt a current begin to pull them both down.
When they reached bottom Robert realized that Nolan had been sucked up against the mouth of a giant intake pipe. Already Nolan’s movements had begun to slow as he ran out of oxygen. Robert tried to pull him away from the pipe but Nolan bit him in the arm. There was no time left now but to save himself. Robert kicked to the surface.
Gasping for air, he treaded water with his face in a layer of mist. Warm bubbles left from Nolan’s lungs drifted up to the surface and burst next to him. Robert began to hear the sounds of people yelling in the distance. Then he saw a glow of yellowish light making its way around to his side of the reservoir.
****
He swam back to shore. Shivering, he pulled on his jacket and hat and started to climb the slippery ivy hill. A man’s voice shouted up at him to stop. Robert hid behind a tree and watched. There were many couples standing on the path below, staring up at him. They also had several dogs straining on leashes. He figured it was some kind of neighborhood watch program. He’d heard of the rise in citizen patrols but had never seen them in action.
Just my luck…
“He’s up there! I see him behind that tree!” a woman screamed.
The crowd started to run up the hill toward him. Their dogs barked excitedly and hauled them up faster. Robert tucked his head and charged through a patch of blackberry vines. Stickers tore through his clothes and scratched his skin. Flashlight beams danced wildly around as the citizen patrol got closer. He found a muddy path and followed it down to the grove of cherry trees.
He dug his arm inside the tree and pulled out the plastic-wrapped revolver. The citizen patrol had now broken up into two groups. One group was coming down the hill toward him while another worked up from below. Soon their flashlight beams were criss-crossing near where Robert stood.
“He’s over there!” a man’s voice called out.
Two men began to move cautiously toward him, one with a wide-eyed black lab at his side. Neither one of the vigilantes looked anxious to fight.
“You might as well give it up, Mister,” one of the men said. His voice trembled. “We’ve got you surrounded. The police are on the way.”
Robert pulled his cap down low over his face. He raised his pistol and waited until they saw it glint in their flashlight beams.
“Holy shit! He’s armed!” someone shouted.
Robert aimed the gun just above their heads and fired. Branches split apart and rained down on them. The two men flattened against the ground. The black lab whimpered and covered its ears with mud-sopped paws. Other members of the brave citizen patrol could be heard diving into bushes and behind trees, cursing as they scratched themselves. Robert saw an opening in the woods behind him and ran toward it.
He’d survived his first match…
CHAPTER 14
When Underwood first settled in Wrath Butte to begin his new career, Frank Longhorn, the retiring sheriff, regaled him with the story of Charlie Maynard—Oregon’s infamous merchant sailor turned cross-country bank robber. It so happened that Wrath Butte Bank was the last place he’d held up before disappearing into the mountains with a posse of lawmen on his trail, including Frank Longhorn and two men from town he’d recently deputized.
Underwood recalled reading about Maynard’s career as a criminal, but was unfamiliar with how he got there.
Legend had it that Charlie Maynard grew up in the thriving town of Portland. As a
“And here’s one for the wife,” Nolan said. He swung again and cracked the iron against Robert’s hipbone.
As Robert pitched backward, he grabbed Nolan’s hair and pulled him into the reservoir with him. The water was ice cold and set his lungs on fire. Nolan let go of his club and began to claw at Robert’s face. Robert grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him toward the bottom, until he felt a current begin to pull them both down.
When they reached bottom Robert realized that Nolan had been sucked up against the mouth of a giant intake pipe. Already Nolan’s movements had begun to slow as he ran out of oxygen. Robert tried to pull him away from the pipe but Nolan bit him in the arm. There was no time left now but to save himself. Robert kicked to the surface.
Gasping for air, he treaded water with his face in a layer of mist. Warm bubbles left from Nolan’s lungs drifted up to the surface and burst next to him. Robert began to hear the sounds of people yelling in the distance. Then he saw a glow of yellowish light making its way around to his side of the reservoir.
****
He swam back to shore. Shivering, he pulled on his jacket and hat and started to climb the slippery ivy hill. A man’s voice shouted up at him to stop. Robert hid behind a tree and watched. There were many couples standing on the path below, staring up at him. They also had several dogs straining on leashes. He figured it was some kind of neighborhood watch program. He’d heard of the rise in citizen patrols but had never seen them in action.
Just my luck…
“He’s up there! I see him behind that tree!” a woman screamed.
The crowd started to run up the hill toward him. Their dogs barked excitedly and hauled them up faster. Robert tucked his head and charged through a patch of blackberry vines. Stickers tore through his clothes and scratched his skin. Flashlight beams danced wildly around as the citizen patrol got closer. He found a muddy path and followed it down to the grove of cherry trees.
He dug his arm inside the tree and pulled out the plastic-wrapped revolver. The citizen patrol had now broken up into two groups. One group was coming down the hill toward him while another worked up from below. Soon their flashlight beams were criss-crossing near where Robert stood.
“He’s over there!” a man’s voice called out.
Two men began to move cautiously toward him, one with a wide-eyed black lab at his side. Neither one of the vigilantes looked anxious to fight.
“You might as well give it up, Mister,” one of the men said. His voice trembled. “We’ve got you surrounded. The police are on the way.”
Robert pulled his cap down low over his face. He raised his pistol and waited until they saw it glint in their flashlight beams.
“Holy shit! He’s armed!” someone shouted.
Robert aimed the gun just above their heads and fired. Branches split apart and rained down on them. The two men flattened against the ground. The black lab whimpered and covered its ears with mud-sopped paws. Other members of the brave citizen patrol could be heard diving into bushes and behind trees, cursing as they scratched themselves. Robert saw an opening in the woods behind him and ran toward it.
He’d survived his first match…
CHAPTER 14
When Underwood first settled in Wrath Butte to begin his new career, Frank Longhorn, the retiring sheriff, regaled him with the story of Charlie Maynard—Oregon’s infamous merchant sailor turned cross-country bank robber. It so happened that Wrath Butte Bank was the last place he’d held up before disappearing into the mountains with a posse of lawmen on his trail, including Frank Longhorn and two men from town he’d recently deputized.
Underwood recalled reading about Maynard’s career as a criminal, but was unfamiliar with how he got there.
Legend had it that Charlie Maynard grew up in the thriving town of Portland. As a
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