ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING - Part 2

Chapter 14

DAD

February 12^th

Standing in the blowing snow, I let Cathy cry in my arms. Her body was shaking from the cold and the sobbing. I could feel something moving beneath her jacket and, at length, Cat pulled back. It was getting dark but I could see her face. Taking a glove off my hand, I wiped back her dark, wet, hair and then wiped away her tears.

I had found her. I had found my little girl. She was not little anymore. She was a young woman, full of life and confidence. With her olive skin and dark brown hair, she looked nothing like her mother, nor the twins. She had taken hard after the Bonham side of the family. Early into Texas, some of the Bonhams had married Comanche women. Those traits had come out in Cathy's high cheek bones and dark eyes. She had physical beauty and a fiery spirit. I knew it was that spirit that had gotten her this far.

Cat unsnapped the top of her coat to Show me something. Taking a flashlight from my coat pocket, I turned it on. A small baby with blue eyes looked up at me.

"You and strays," I said. "Daughter, you are always collecting strays; stray cats, stray dogs but this is the first time I've seen you collect a baby."

She couldn't help but laugh, and there was a smile between her tears.

Her body was still shaking and I could tell she was spent. She needed shelter, she needed warmth. Depleted physically as she was, hypothermia was not far away.

"Can you still fork a horse, daughter?" I asked.

"You know I can, Dad. If there is breath left in me I can fork a horse."

With that, I led her back to her roan that had been following my pack horse. She stopped when she saw Mom's buckskin horse.

She turned to me and with emotion in her voice, said, "Dad, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't get Mom. She didn't make it." And she started to cry again.

Earlier this day, I had cut Cathy's tracks in the snow. I knew they were hers because I followed them as they went in circles looking for my stash. I also could tell that there was only one set of tracks and that meant Mom had not made it. I had already known.

85

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

"It's okay, Cat. Don't cry. It's okay," I hugged her again.

My wife had been so successful and so busy with her work that I had only seen her once in the last year. The several years before that had not been much better. There had been the hope that after enough money had been made, enough success enjoyed, that she would slow down and we again would spend time together.

The night after the "first strike," while I stood on my porch, that hope had drifted away. Somehow I had known that she was never coming back. I had saddled her buckskin all the same, and came looking for her and Cat.

"Girl, if you can fork that horse let's get you into the saddle. We can talk later; right now we need to mope."

I took her rifle from her and slid it into the empty rifle scabbard which was strapped to her saddle. Tired as she was, with the baby still bundled to her, I gave her help. I knelt by the side of her horse, giving her a knee to step up on. I hadn't done that since she was a little girl.

She squeezed my shoulder before grabbing the pommel and stepping up into the saddle.

The snow was coming hard and there was a cutting wind behind it. In this deep snow, stumbling around in the dark, it was going to be hard to find shelter and wood. But I had a plan. Earlier this day; I had not been far from this spot. I had missed Cathy when I rode through here the first time. I cut her tracks close to the missed stash and then had tracked her down.

Only several hundred yards to the west of here I had ridden by an old hogan. It had been an old fork-stick style—one where they placed several large, peeled, cedar poles with the bases in the ground and the forks upward. The bases of the poles were buried about ten feet apart in a circle with the forks leaning into the center, tepee style. The forks of the poles interlocked, holding them together. Other peeled logs where leaned against this frame, closing the circle, except on the east side. That is where the door was. The doors always faced east on a traditional hogan. It was made by planting two more poles with forks. These two poles framed the door and stood upright. From these forks, two ridge-poles ran back to the top of the circle of logs. On the top and sides of this frame work, more logs were laid. All the cracks were chinked with cedar bark and then the whole work was covered with six inches or more of clay. A tight, cozy dwelling with a little wood stove in the center and a stove pipe coming out the top.

86

DAD

That was what I wanted to find. I took my compass out and got a bearing. In this dark snowy night, even being close by, one could easily miss it.

After riding in the dark for about ten minutes, I stopped. I had checked my compass several times in the last ten minutes to keep from drifting, still, I was afraid that I may have passed it by. I was going to need to start casting in circles ... then I smelled it.

The unique scent of cedar wood burning. It had to be coming from the hogan. The wind was blowing eastward so I headed west. The horses did not like facing into the storm and kept trying to drift with it. Within a couple of minutes I had found it and stopped about 30 yards out. I could barely see the outline of the Structure and sheep pens.

I dismounted, wary of dogs. These places usually had sheep dogs. I had not seen one the first time I rode by, only a single sheep. It had been huddled against the west side of the sheep pen under a canopy made of cedar boughs.

There were no lights to be seen. Fork-stick hogans were not built with windows. I handed Cat my reins and started walking the remaining distance on foot. I stumbled upon two mounds lying side by side. They were graves. Crude crosses had been planted at their heads and I could tell the crosses were recently made. I stepped around them and continued.

The snow and wind covered any sound that was made. Once close, I could make out a faint line of light that outlined the door. It was a door made of wooden boards, now very weathered. The door was hung by two large rusty strap hinges that were even older than the door. The door had no door knob, only a wood handle. The door was latched by a wooden latch that one could lift from the inside. From the outside, the latch was lifted by a draw-string. But now, the draw-string was pulled back inside.

There were two other small points of light coming through the door, about chest high. They looked like bullet holes. As I ran my fingers over them, I could tell that the bullets had been fired from the inside because the wood splinters around the holes were poking outward.

It looked like whoever was inside didn't like people knocking on the door.

I hesitated. I was sure that I was not going to knock on that door. I was also sure that they weren't going to open the door in the night to some stranger, no matter what the story.

If I could just talk to them face to face, just for a moment, maybe they would know that we meant no harm, that we were asking for shelter from the storm.

87

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

I bent down and looked through a bullet hole. I could see that there was one person only in the hogan. A kerosene lamp was burning on a very small table against the right wall. By that light I could tell that a lone person was lying asleep on the floor at the back of the abode.

I thought of my daughter and baby, and made a decision. I needed one chance to speak face to face. Taking my bowie knife, which I always kept in a slanted sheath at my front, I slipped the tip of the blade into the crack of the door. The point of the blade hooked under the wooden latch. Slowly I raised the latch. Then I grasped the wood handle on the outside of the door and pulled softly. The hinges were wet from the storm and made almost no noise as I opened the door. Silently I stepped in and closed the door behind me. I had come uninvited into another's home.

I stood there a moment taking in the scene before me. It was warm and dry. A pair of wrangler jeans lay over the back of a wood chair which was pulled close to the small wood stove. The jeans were wet from the knees down and steam came off them as they dried. A pair of tennis shoes sat on the chair, also drying. The person had been out in the snow with clothes not suited for the bitter weather.

The hogan was neat and tidy with few belongings in it. The floor was hard packed clay, sealed with linseed oil. An old model 94 Winchester rifle lay on a wooden milk crate within easy reach of the sleeping person. The place had a good feeling to it, much like the ranch house. Generations had lived here without the intrusion of an electronically automated world. I liked it.

I looked at the sleeping person on the floor. It was a woman. She lay upon the fleece of white sheep skins. A Navajo blanket had been covering her but had been tossed off due to warmth Of the home. She was dressed in the old traditional clothes with a velvet skirt around her waist of turquoise color. The length came to the back of her calves. A few inches of light brown skin could be seen of her calves below the skirt and above a pair of high top moccasins. They were Apache style moccasins.

1. Model 94 Winchester was a lever action rifle introduced by Winchester in 1894. The most common cartridge for the 94 is the 30-30. In its day, it was a great gun and vastly outperformed the 44-40 rifle.

My eyes paused upon the right leg. There was a knife handle protruding from the top the moccasin. By the stitching, one could see that a knife scabbard was sewn to the inside. I smiled at that.

88

DAD

My gaze returned to her waist. It was very small. A belt of fine silver Conchos with turquoise stones was fastened around that waist. Her blouse was also of velvet material in a deep maroon color. Her hair was pulled back tight with a single pony-tail of long black hair.

Then I looked upon her face and I was taken back. Like the face of my wife, it was of striking beauty. Although very different in many ways, its depth of beauty was the same. The woman had the high cheek-bones of the Indian people. Her face was triangular and well balanced; the skin smooth and even. The eyes were closed but had long black lashes. Her mouth turned up slightly at the corners giving her a pleasant demeanor.

I stood there taking in all of it. I knew I was an uninvited visitor but the whole atmosphere was calming, peaceful and inviting.

My gaze had not moved from her face when the cool air that had come in with the opening of the door reached her. She stirred slightly, then her eyes flashed open. Quick, like a cat, she came off her bedding grabbing for the Winchester. I leapt forward at the same time and our hands grasped the gun simultaneously, hers on the stock and mine on the barrel.

She was not just cat quick, she was a wild cat and I had just tangled with her. For several vicious moments, she flexed every ounce of her strong, wiry, body in an effort to bring the barrel of the gun to bear upon me. All the while I was stammering in my attempt to say, "I mean no harm."

The words could not be understood in the frantic melee and at last I ripped the rifle from her hands. That was almost my undoing.

In a blur of movement, her right hand swept down to her moccasin then whipped towards my face. The blade of the knife flashed in the soft light and I jerked my face back and to the side. The strike had been aimed at my neck but it went high, laying my cheek open to the bone.

There was no pause as she stabbed and slashed at me. But I also was quick. With another lunge at my face, my left hand closed upon her wrist.

I pressed her against the log walls of the hogan and forced the knife from her hand.

"Please, Ma'am. I mean you no harm," I said, still holding her against the wall. Her chest was heaving and her eyes were like burning flames.

With my face only inches from hers, I could see her eyes clearly. They were not brown but a deep green, belying other blood that ran through her veins.

89

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

Again I was taken by her beauty. With knife in hand I stepped back and quickly snatched the rifle from the floor. I took another step back to the door. She was boxed in and moved away from the wall like a caged, wild animal. Her eyes were darting back and forth. There was a lot of fight still in her.

"Ma'am, please hear me just a moment," I said and stuck her knife behind my belt next to my own. I then took the Winchester and worked its lever action. I ran the action ejecting all the bullets. Only two fell upon the floor from the gun. She was down to her last two bullets.

The gun now empty, I grabbed it by the barrel and extended the rifle to her, butt forward. She grabbed it from my hand. My actions caused her to pause a moment. I had hoped it would. Then I took her knife from my belt. The hilt was in my right hand and I flipped the knife slightly into the air. It turned over and I grabbed it by the flat of the blade. This I also extended towards her.

More slowly this time, she reached out, then snatched it from my hand and jumped back, still wary. Then I stooped and gathered the two rifle cartridges from the floor. Again, I extended my hand to her.

Even more cautiously than before, she took the two bullets from me. Without hesitation she pushed them into the side gate of the rifle and racked the action. Rifle leveled with hammer eared back, her eyes were still blazing. No longer was she a caged animal, she was an angry animal, now fanged and toothed.

With blood running down my face and neck, I spoke, "Please, hear me out for one moment. My daughter and baby are outside. Could you spare some shelter for the night? This is your home, I've come uninvited, for that I'm sorry, and," I said, pointing to her gun, "you can see that I will leave at your request."

There was no softening to her features. Without speaking she poked the barrel of the gun towards the door. The answer was plain. Backing up,

I reopened the door. As I stepped back into the storm I asked, "May we use the shelter of your sheep pen?"

She did not answer and I took it as a yes. I shut the door and then for the first time, I heard her speak.

"Cowboy," she called from beyond the door.

90

DAD

I pulled the wooden door back open. She was still standing in the same place, now with the rifle lowered. She was still breathing hard from the struggle, chest rising and falling. "Cowboy," she spoke again, "did you say a baby?"

"Yes Ma'am, an infant."

This time there was a softening to her features. Whether soft or full of fire, the woman had an exceptional beauty. It was hard to guess her age, late twenties, early thirties? She looked ageless. She soon had Cat and the baby within the warmth of her shelter while I tended to the horses. By the time I re-entered, this time as an invited guest, the woman had Cathy undressed and in bed. Not only was Cat in bed, she was asleep. The Navajo woman was sitting on a blanket, cross legged, by the stove feeding the baby.

I dropped our bedrolls at the door and sat down on them. No words were spoken and I watched as she tended to the little one. The peaceful feeling had returned to the dwelling and it was calming to watch her. The bleeding from the cut across my cheek had slowed but my Under Armor thermals and shirt were soaked. I kept my hand from my face, not wanting the cut to get infected. The positive side of the bleeding was that it washed the wound out.

At last the baby was full. The lady put the infant to her shoulder and gently patted its back till it burped. The scene brought back fond memories.

"You have a nice smile, Cowboy." She spoke to me and I was taken back. I had not realized that I was smiling. Smiling was a rare thing to me in these last years.

"The sight brings pleasant memories, Ma'am," I replied. "Memories of a time, past and gone."

"I like how you say that," she said.

Puzzled by the remark, I asked, "How I say what? Pleasant memories?"

"No. How you say Ma'am. That word is not often used anymore. And I like the tone of respect you put on it."

I was surprised by her remarks. I had never thought of it, it was simply the way I had been raised.

"That's kind of you to say so," I returned.

She laid the baby next to Cathy and turned towards me. "Let's have a look at that cut now."

91

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

She removed her wranglers and shoes from the chair and sat me close to the kerosene lamp. I had already removed my coat; she took my shirt off and then carefully pulled the Under Armor over my head. With a clean rag and a warm soapy basin of water, she began cleaning the blood off. It was pleasant to feel the touch of her strong, soft fingers.

I thought of my wife and similar feelings. I missed her but I had been missing her for a long time. Though her death had been recent, to me, it seemed years. There was little mourning left inside of me to do. I thought of the wonderful children she had given me, and the joy that they had brought. Nothing could replace her.

Subconsciously, I turned my wedding band with my thumb and the woman standing before me noticed.

"Married?"

I stopped turning the ring, "Widowed."

I was glad my daughter was nearby, Having my shirt off in the home of a strange women was foreign to me. I had ever been faithful to my wife.

The water in the basin was turning red as the woman worked on me. My hands below the wrist were tanned like leather and calloused. My face and neck had been honed by the sun and wind. The rest of my body never saw the sun or wind. There the skin was much lighter and without a wrinkle. I was a true red neck.

She wiped the blood off my chest and shoulders. I stood five feet eleven inches tall and packed much of my 185 pounds in my shoulders and chest.

I had known that the days which had just exploded upon our country were coming. No one could know for sure what year they would come but anyone with their eyes open could have seen them coming. For that reason I had prepared. I had prepared mentally, emotionally and physically. When I was younger I weighed 170, but over the years of running and lifting weights, I had put on another fifteen pounds of solid mass. It was not unnoticed by the Navajo woman.

Why had so many people not prepared? How could they have been so blind? The Mormons even claimed to have prophets. It was hard for me to believe that a man like Moses walked the earth today, but I had read some of their writings.² Their visions of what was coming to our country were horrific in their descriptions. Their warnings and pleadings to the people were earnest.

92

DAD

Yet, most went about their daily lives giving little heed to the warnings of great calamities.

My cold body was absorbing the heat from the little stove and warm water. My muscles began to relax and my mind began to drift.

I thought about religion. Because my people came from Old Texas I was more Catholic than anything else. My wife was Baptist. The old cowboy who had raised me, my grandfather, felt that a man should be in a house of worship on the Sabbath. So, in the old cattle truck, he drove us to Mass each Sunday in the town of Kanab.

Once I was married, I took my family to the Catholic Church on one Sunday and to the Baptist Church the next. The Mormons had good socials and we attended them.

Each religion had preached about the 'days of desolation' but few had prepared. 'The days of desolation' or the 'abomination of desolation', whatever you wanted to call it, that day had arrived.

The woman wrung the rag into the bowl of red water for the last time.

"Cowboy, that is a bad cut. Your cheek bone is plain to see and I have nothing to bind up the wound," she said.

I pointed to my saddlebags that I had brought in with the bedrolls. "Bring those to me, please."

2. "...what about the American nation. (The past Civil War) was nothing, compared to that which will eventually devastate (America). ... Do you will me to describe it? I will do so. It will be a war of neighborhood against neighborhood, city against clty, town agalnst town, country against county, state against state, and they will go forth, destroying and being destroyed and manufacturing will, in a great measure, cease, for a time among the American nation Why? Because in these terrible wars, they will not be privileged to manufacture, there will be too much bloodshed, too much mobocracy, too much going forth in band and destroying and pillaging the land to suffer people to pursue any local vocation with any degree of safety. What will become of millions of the farers upon (this land)? They will leave their farm and they will remain uncultivated, and they will flee before the ravaging armies from place to place; and thus will they go forth burning and pillaging the whole country; and that great and powerful nation.. .will be wasted away, unless they repent. (Orson Pratt, 1811—1881)

93

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

She did and I retrieved a small first aid kit from them. In the kit was a curved needle with sutures. There was also a Leatherman tool. I opened it so that the needle nose pliers worked.

"Can you sew, Ma'am?"

"I can sew. Can you hold still?" she asked.

"I can."

With that, she started. I resolved that, not only would I hold still, I would not flinch. The needle burned as she pulled it through my skin. I did not move. Her face was near mine and I watched her intently. Again, I was impressed with the beauty of her face and her penetrating green eyes. With each pass of the needle, she would stop, cut the string and tie the stitch. I could feel the skin being drawn back together.

"You know this cut was intended for your neck don't you?" she asked as she worked.

"I do."

"I'm sorry," she said.

"It was my own fault, Ma'am. No call for apologies."

She poked the needle through my skin again. Still I did not flinch. She smiled. She was not being overly careful and seemed to be judging what she saw. At last she was done and she stood up from bending over me.

"I think that will do it, Cowboy. I have some pine gum salve. Would you like me to put some on?"

I knew what that was. It was mutton tallow mixed with pine gum. It had antibiotic qualities and we used it at the ranch. "Yes, please."

I could not remember the last time that a woman had cared for an injury of mine. It was nice.

"Thank you Ma'am." I said.

"You may call me Sandy. Sandy Yazzie."

The last name fit. With the name of Begay and Yazzie, you covered almost half the Navajo Tribe. The first name didn't.

"Thank you, Sandy Yazzie." The names did sound good together though.

94

DAD

She took my shirt and Under Armor. "I'll rinse these out. You should get some sleep."

With my bedroll laid out by the door, I sat upon it and took off my Kenetrek boots. They were a riding boot made for bad weather. If a man did not take care of his feet he could soon become worthless in weather like this. I was always careful.

I unbuckled my six-shooter. It was a 44-40 and shot the same cartridge as the old Winchester rifle above my door at home. I wrapped the belt around the holstered gun and set it close at hand. I then placed my cowboy hat on top of it. This was habit. The gun was concealed by the casual glance but easy to grab.

The Indian woman was sitting, quietly watching me as I stretched out and drifted off to sleep.

95

Chapter 15

JUSTICE

Woe unto them ... that put darkness for light, and light for darkness.
lsaiah 5:20

February 13^th

Sometime in the early morning hours, I heard the woman stirring. She stepped past my bed and opened the door. A rush of cold air swept inside and then the door closed behind her as she left. The kerosene lamp had been lit and I arose to find my shirt and Under Armor clean and dry. I dressed and then sat at the table with the lamp.

It was quiet as the baby and Cat were still sleeping. From my saddlebags I took a small Bible. Keeping with tradition and routine, I read silently. I was in the Book of Isaiah on the 24th chapter.

Behold, the Lord maketh the earth empty, and maketh it waste, and turneth it upside down and scattereth abroad the inhabitants thereof... The land shall be utterly emptied and utterly spoiled.. ..The earth also is defiled under the inhabitants thereof; because they have transgressed the laws, changed the ordinances, broken the everlasting covenant. Therefore hath the curse devoured the earth, and they that dwell therein are desolate.

I was no minister, but it looked like our country had just plunged head long into this scripture.

I was still reading when Sandy came back in with fresh meat. She was dressed in her wrangler jeans. Jeans or a dress, it didn't matter, she was beautiful. I stopped and watched her as she made breakfast. She cut the meat in small pieces and, while they fried on the stove, she made fry bread dough. Taking a piece of dough, she began flipping it back and forth from hand to hand. The dough quickly flattened out into a round piece ready to be fried.

I was hungry and my body craved food that was solid and full of calories. The cooking food smelled good and Cathy stirred from her sleep.

Sandy spoke to me, "Cowboy, you have some nice looking horses but they've been ridden hard. They need rest and feed."

She was right. I had pushed them hard over the last fourteen days trying to reach my family. The pack horse had been loaded mostly with grain mixed with vegetable oil. It was the most potent feed I could carry for them. It was now gone and they were gaunt and tired. They did need rest and feed.

97

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

"I have some grain and a little hay," Sandy said. "You may have it. You should let your horses rest a few days."

"What about your sheep?" I asked

She shrugged, "I don't need it anymore."

I looked at the fresh mutton frying in the pan and kicked myself for being slow to make the connection. She had no more sheep.

"Where is your family?" I asked. Then, thinking of the new graves outside, I kicked myself again.

"My brother and sister live in Tuba City. My mother and father were killed three days ago. Young men, acting like 'mighty warriors,' came riding in here on horses all painted in war paint. They demanded our horse and our sheep. When Father said no, they shot him and Mother."

"It doesn't look like they did all the shooting." I said looking towards the bullet holes in the door.

She shrugged again. "I could not stop them. My parents are dead and they took all our livestock. For two days I looked and found only one sheep that they missed." Then she launched a diatribe against what she saw as the fundamental problem:

They have no honor, no respect for the old ways. Our people used to be completely self-reliant in the old days before the government came to 'help us.' They said we needed to become educated. When my father and grandfather were children they gave the families no choice. They came and took the children to boarding schools for nine months out of every year. Over the years the government became our provider. They gave us free education from head start to college. They gave us free health care from cradle to grave. We used to live in our clans scattered across the reservation. We raised sheep, goats, and cows. We made quality Navajo rugs and silver jewelry. We were not a rich people but our families were strong and we asked help from no one. My grandparents hid my father from the BIN agents and did not let them ship my father off to the boarding schools. The old ways stayed strong in our family.

Putting another piece of fry bread in the pan, she continued, "Our tribe has good and strong people still, but so many look to the government for so much. As a people we still vote for politicians that promise to continue the free housing, food and education. It is hard not to take it. They even tell us it's our right, it's owed to us. They say because we were a people that were wronged and stolen from that it is only fair that we be given this stuff. It sounds good, but it makes us dependent and weaker as a people." With a tinge of sadness she concluded:

98

JUSTICE

"Those men, had they been like the old warriors, they would never have robbed their own. They would not have taken from the old and the women. But, because they were hungry and could not care for themselves, they pretended they were great warriors and, like cowards, they stole from the weaker."

I sat listening. Seldom did I hear a person speak the way I felt. Her physical beauty was enhanced by the quality of the spirit within her. She strong. She had values and believed in freedom. So many today did not understand what real freedom was anymore. They did not know that one who depends on another for his daily bread was not free.

She handed me a piece of fry bread full of savory mutton. It was good and she continued, "You, Cowboy, you're more like the old ones. Last night you could have taken anything, everything, but you didn't. You respected me, you respected my home. You have honor."

Those green eyes fastened upon me. "Cowboy, may I come with you?"

This woman had given us shelter, possibly saving my daughter's life. She had fed us with the last of her food. This she had done, asking for no favors beforehand. She was alone and now bereft of her parents. I was grateful as well as indebted to her.

"My name is Jake and my home is yours as long as you need, Ma'am."

*  *  *

1. BIA, Bureau of Indian Affairs, operates under the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. Before there were sufficient schools and buses, Indian children were forced to attend boarding schools or go into foster homes to meet the government's demands for their education. This took children away from their parents 3/4ths of the year.

We rested two days until the hay was gone. During that time, I took a sheep skin, with the wool fleece still on, and made a pair of crude moccasins. I coated them with tallow to help shed the moisture. They fit nicely over the woman's tennis shoes. Her feet would now stay warm on the long ride. Cathy slept, ate and slept some more.

My clan was small. Counting Mom and me, plus four kids, a daughter in-law and two grandkids, it made nine. We had lost Mom and I was down to eight. My family was everything to me and I was deeply grateful for the kindness Sandy Yazzie had shown my daughter. Her parents were dead and I felt for the woman's loss. I had never known mine.

99

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

On the morning of the third day, I packed the rest of the grain and we left. The snowing had stopped and the clouds lifted. The following day, a warmer breeze coming from the southwest carried the clouds away and we welcomed the sun.

We made good distance each day and on the ninth we were at what is known as the Big Cut, 25 miles south of Page, Arizona. We had traveled cross country to avoid people and had been successful. Those we had seen, we had kept at a safe distance.

The Big Cut was where Highway 89 dropped over the Vermillion ledges, which ledges stretched for miles and miles, running north and south. There were few places where one could descend over those ledges from the mesa above to the valley below.

It was a small bottle neck. The big bottle neck was still ten miles further at Marble Canyon. In times like these, any bottle neck was dangerous. In the valley below the Big Cut was the little community of Bitter Springs. Originally, it had been a simple trading post to which the old Navajos had come to barter their rugs and silver-work for staples that they needed.

The trading post was now long gone. In its place, the government built a community of homes and ran power to it. This brought the people out of their scattered clans into a community that was not self-sustaining. The closest town was Page, 25 miles away, on Highway 89. The closest store was the trading post, ten miles north, at Marble Canyon on Highway 89-A. The bridge that crossed the river at Marble Canyon was the serious bottle neck.

Bitter Springs had nothing to keep it alive except the water. There was no store, no farms, no gardens, or anything that produced. What few cows that had been grazed locally were surely gone by now. Where would all the people be? Desperate people can do desperate things and that made the distance between the Cut and the bridge at Marble Canyon high risk region.

I stopped a mile before the Big Cut. I drew up in a small arroyo that was concealed by some cedar trees. Here I left my small band. Sandy had brought her father's rifle with the two bullets. Cat had her Remington and I left them with the reminder to stay alert. Carrying my rifle and binoculars, I took off on foot.

I carefully worked my way towards the cut until I was within a 1000 yards. Keeping myself concealed, I studied the vicinity around the en- trance of the cut with my binoculars. It did not take long for me to spot them. There was a camp to the north of the cut. It lay against the mountain hidden between a large sand dune and the face of the ledge. From my position I could see both the camp and the road passing through the slash in the mountain.

100

JUSTICE

The camp was concealed from the opening of the cut. At the camp, two women were sitting by a fire while a boy gathered firewood. There was a man and he was hidden in the cut itself.

The Big Cut was a deep narrow gash that had been blasted through the sandstone ridge of the mountain. This is where the road, from the valley below, passed through and topped out on the mesa above.

My little band of horses and riders must pass through this gap. Half- way down from the top edge of the cut 'was a bench that formed a step. The top of the cut was wider and then, at the step, it became narrower. The bottom was wide enough for two small lanes.

It was on the bench that the man sat. I was coming from the east and he was looking west, down the other side of the mountain. He was kneeling behind a boulder that was resting on the edge of the bench and was very intent. I watched as he slowly raised a rifle and pointed it at something beyond my view. Was this a man defending his family or was this someone about to murder an innocent traveler? As I pondered the question, I saw the rifle recoil against the man's shoulder. The sound of the shot soon followed as it echoed off the ledges.

In excitement, the man jumped up and ran back along the bench where he was able to descend to the bottom. Still holding his rifle, he disappeared into the cut. Soon thereafter, he reemerged dragging a body by one hand. It was a woman.

This looked too much like a hunter who had just bagged a deer. He had not dragged the body long when the others showed up from the camp. The four of them soon had the body laid out by the side of their campfire. Like hungry coyotes, they ripped the clothes off and cut off pieces of flesh. They were ravaged with hunger and ate some of the flesh raw while cooking other pieces on sticks. It was sickening.

Sickened as I was, I was not surprised. I was one of the few who believed these things were coming. It was no more than a repeat of history, a history that was not taught in our public educational system. Nowhere in any high school history course could you find what the starving masses did in Russia when Communism was implemented by Lenin and Stalin.²

Without a strong core belief or a moral compass that was fixed, starvation drove good people to do the unthinkable. A month ago that man was probably an average ol' Joe. Was the child at the camp his boy, the woman his wife or mother?

101

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

I watched as our country had raced away from the moral anchors that once were the norm of our society. There were those in our government that had advocated for abortion up to the age of two years. Stating that a child was not self-aware until that age, thus, it was no different than a regular abortion. That argument assumed that there was nothing wrong with regular abortion in the first place.

If our country could support killing the innocent for convenience sake, why could not a person kill the innocent for the survival of the group? Our world was upside down.

"What to do now?" I thought to myself. I was angry that an unsuspecting woman had just been murdered and was now being eaten. I wanted to shoot the man. That would be justice, life for life. But justice may have to wait for the Lord to mete it out, for my first responsibility was to my family. But, again, if I did nothing who would be eaten next?

I returned to Cat and Sandy. I did not want to tell them what I had seen but it was best to be upfront. I told them what I had seen in a short fashion. I watched their faces as I spoke and found it interesting how little effect it had upon them. After the death and killing they had already been part of, this was just one more notch higher in the horrors that were becoming the new normal.

2. After the implementation of Communism in Russia starting in 1918, hunger and starvation increased until in 1922 it was estimated that over 33 million Russians were starving and 5 million died. Starving hordes would fall upon villages and cannibalism was common. (The Naked Communist, W. Cleon Skousen)

"What are you going to do, Dad?" Cat asked me. "You can't let him hurt some other innocent by-passer."

"You're right Cat, we should stop him," I replied, "but what about the women and the child. The boy looks to be only nine years old. Do we shoot them too? They didn't kill the woman; they just helped to eat her."

She didn't answer right away and after some thought asked, "I don't know what the right thing is; what should we do, Dad?"

102

JUSTICE

"There is no more law enforcement or legal system in which this can be handled.. Innately, a person knows that this is wrong but knowing what to do about it is not so easy. I do not want to kill the man. He probably is the father to the others. If I take his gun and let him live, will hunger drive him to eat his own?"

Sandy joined in, "Deal with what he has done and not what he might do. He has killed an unsuspecting woman who was traveling alone. It was planned, it was deliberate. That he is a father, that his family lavas hungry, and that we loathe to shed blood, is all beside the point. There is a place for mercy and there is a place for justice. I believe that this is the place for justice."

She was right and that meant if justice was going to be meted out In this life, I would have to do the meting out.

Evening was drawing on. I resolved to move both justice and my little band forward after dark. We remained in the arroyo and rested until it was dark. In the light of the stars we rode our horses to the point where I had watched the ambush. We could see the glow of the fire not far away.

"Daughter, wait here and watch with the binoculars. You will be able to see me by the fire once I'm there. When you see me wave my hat, ride on in.

The snow had been melting all day and it was still above freezing temperature. That was to my advantage, making it much quieter as I stole forward. Taking my time and being careful, I was soon close to the camp. They did not have a dog. Around here, all dogs would have been eaten by now. That was good. Sneaking up on someone with a dog is so much more difficult. Of all their senses, a dog's sense of smell was the most powerful. Upon the slightest breeze they could pick up the scent of animal in the distance.

By the light of the fire I could make out the people. Three were sleeping under blankets close to the fire and a young lady was keeping watch. She was sitting; straddle legged, on a log that had one end in the fire. The rifle, which was an old bolt action with iron sights, rested on her lap. She was the watch but the warm fire and full belly were making her sleepy. Her head was resting upon her chest and I simply walked in and took the rifle off her lap.

Thinking it was one of her group, she was not startled at first. I stepped backwards to the edge of the firelight. They all were easily covered by my Colt AR.

103

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

"Get up," I demanded clearly and evenly to the ragged band. "Keep your hands where I can see them or I will shoot you." They all stumbled to their feet.

"Move to the other side of the fire so I can see you," was my next directive.

They did and the light of the fire shone upon their faces. They were a sad lot; unkempt, unwashed and it could be seen that the dead woman was their first full meal in many days.

Making the signal, I took my hat off and waved it. In a few moments I could hear the horses coming and then they pulled up as they reached the firelight. Cat and Sandy did not get off their horses. The light of the fire made us targets to anyone out in the dark, so I made it quick.

"Mister," I spoke to the man. From his features I could tell he was the father to the boy. "I saw you kill the woman that you all have been eating"

He was visibly trembling. The boy was clinging to the older woman's leg. It was his mother.

"I am willing to let your family live if they swear never to kill a human again in order to eat him."

Now addressing the others, I demanded of them, "Do you swear before the heavens to keep that commitment?"

They were scared and there were nods and mumbles of commitment.

Turning back to the father, '61 am your judge tonight, and" pointing to Cat and Sandy, "they are a jury of your peers. Do you have anything to say?"

His trembling was too great for the man to remain standing. Falling to his knees, he begged. "My family was hungry. We were starving. Please, please let me live."

My heart was torn at the pitiful sight. The barrel of my AR was centered on his chest.

"Cat, Sandy, is he worthy of death?"

I did not take my eyes off of the kneeling man. I heard the voice of Sandy, '"Yes," then the voice of Cat, "Yes."

I pulled the trigger twice and the man pitched forward. His family, too scared to move, remained frozen silently where they stood. Turning to my horse, I slid my rifle into its scabbard. Opening my saddlebags I took out all the food I had in it. It was not much. I went to Sandy's and Cat's horses and did the same. I took the food and set it on a blanket by the fire.

104

JUSTICE

Taking the bullets from their bolt action rifle, I threw them into the dark. The rifle I threw in the other direction. In sorrow, I looked once more into their forlorn faces then turned away. I took up the reins of my horse, swung into the saddle, and we rode off.

105

Chapter 16

MARBLE CANYON

February 22^nd

We rode on into the dark. It was three miles to the bottom of the valley and I turned north. At the lower elevation it was warmer and most of the snow had melted. From here it was ten miles to Marble Canyon. From the Big Cut to the bridge there would be no trees to provide cover while we traveled. It was best to keep riding and use the darkness to our advantage.

To avoid more ambushes I stayed off the road and the going was slow. The breeze of the winter's night cut into us. The sky was clear and the cold stars lit our way. We rode silently and I thought of my forefathers who had ridden this very path more than 130 years ago. It was as if life had made a full circle. They came riding horses pushing a herd of cows. Like now, the times were harsh. There was no government to lend them a hand. Whether it was storm, sickness, injury or death, they faced these things alone.

A gust of wind swept by and I pulled my cowboy hat on tighter. The gust passed and it became calm. I like the quiet of the night. The creak of saddle leather and the click of horse hooves on stones were all that could be heard. In the starlight I could see the Navajo woman riding beside me. How long had it been since a woman had ridden by my side? Too long.

The thoughts of my ancestors re-entered my mind and a peaceful feeling stole over me. It seemed as if they were riding with us. I could feel their spirit, men that had lived in a hard and wild land and the women who had loved them. Nature had blessed the Bonham men physically. Their bodies wore like fine steel blades, honed to a keen edge that held sharp through the years of life. Women of beauty, strength, and quality were drawn to them. Those women, when not bearing children, rode be side them. Gratitude filled my heart. My ancestors had given me so much. They had given me a heritage of strong families, of self-reliance, of hard work, and of freedom.

They loved freedom. I was sure their hearts were pained to know what had become of their country. There was a feeling that came to me and I took courage from it. The spirit of freedom welled up in me and I was determined to live free or die. They had lived free, without a yoke upon their shoulders, and I would too. The nuclear strike that our country had suffered was a double-edged sword. On the positive side of the blade, it had leveled the playing field between a massive government and the common man. The common man, the simple man, if he had it in him, could now rise up and grasp freedom. Now was the day, now was the time. More than anything, I wanted my children to understand what real freedom was. To have them experience it, to taste it and to love it as I did. That was the heritage I longed to give.

107

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

By three thirty a.m. we arrived at Navajo Bridge. I liked the hour but I did not like this spot. The hour was good as it was an hour where most would be asleep. The spot was bad because it was one of the few places one could cross the mighty Colorado River. Here the sheer canyon walls were close enough to span with a bridge. The canyon was deep, probably a 1000 feet from bridge to water.

The physical geography of this remote country had great advantages once you were on the right side of the river. The surrounding desert, the river and the canyon make a great natural barrier from the highly populated regions of southern Arizona. To the southwest, Death Valley was a great barrier against California's vast population. Even between Las Vegas there was a large desert and a mountain range. If one was prepared, it was hard to find a place better than this in a day such as this.

There was a bridge at Page and the Glenn Canyon Dam to the north. To the south, you had to get past the Grand Canyon and make it to the Hoover Dam. There were two foot-bridges in the very bottom of the Grand Canyon. That crossing was not easy anytime but in the winter it could be a killer.

Here at Marble Canyon, there were now two bridges, both called Navajo Bridge. The original one was so narrow that two semi-trucks could not pass without knocking their mirrors off. That bridge was now for foot traffic only. The new bridge was wider, still only two lanes, and had been built next to the old one. The Marble Canyon Trading post lay past the bridges on the other side of the canyon. The trading post and restaurant sat on the right-hand side of the road. On that same side of the road was a gas station and a few motel rooms. Across the road stood the old rock lodge and a few small warehouses for the river runners.

I had ridden past here within five days after the first strike. At that time, the people were looking worried, but the place was still holding together. By now, half the community of nearby Bitter Springs would have come here.

The strong among the Navajo people in this part of the reservation would know where to go in order to hunt for food. That is, if they had a rifle and bullets. To hunt, they must cross the river here at Marble Canyon. The large deer herds lived 30 miles west of the river on the Kaibab Mountain. There were desert bighorn sheep and small deer herds under the Paria Plateau within a mile of here. All of this was cut off by the canyon and swift water of the Colorado. The bridges were like tunnels into a spider's hole with the lure of food on the other side.

108

MARBLE CANYON

What food the restaurant and gas station had would be gone by now, or commandeered by a "strong man" who could gather a gang behind him. I knew human nature and was sure there would be a strong man with a gang.

All I wanted was to get my little band across the bridge and away from Marble Canyon safely. Once across I was only three days from home, home and the twins. I was worrying about them. They were smart girls but a father always worries about his kids. That instinct to protect and defend one's offspring was not limited to mother bears. I was no mother bear but I was loaded for bear, I and now was the time to draw upon some of those resources.

From my left saddlebag I drew out a black nylon case the size of a rifle scope. Unzipping it, I withdrew a night vision scope. In moments, I had the regular optics on my AR swapped with the night vision. I turned it on and raised the rubber shroud that covered the front lens. I put the rifle to my shoulder and looked through the scope. The dark world came to light in an eerie green color. The darkness had just become my best friend.

I left Cat to tend the baby and horses in the draw north of the bridge. Sandy offered to take an over-watch position on the ridge above them. For the second time in 24 hours I moved out to probe a bottle neck.

From the canyon wall above the bridge I scoped all that I could see. The two bridges had a simple beauty and simplicity to them. They arched across the black expanse of the canyon. At the far side of the bridge were the rock buildings of the Navajo Interpretive Center, basically, a rest stop with a bead stand and one rock building. The large rock building had small barred windows and a heavy door. It was the secured room that held all the interpretive items. From there, the road wound up a small rise to the trading post.

Indeed a "strong man" had taken control, for I could see posted guards. Whenever a vacuum of power accrued in nature, there were those that rushed in to fill that vacuum. Like removing an old dominate bull from the herd; the young bulls fought to gain that domination. No rule of law, no equality under the law, just brute force.

1. "Loaded for bear": An old term used to mean that a person was armed for danger.

109

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

Some bull over there had enough strength to make men stand watch in the middle of a cold winter's night. There were two men with rifles standing at the far side of the bridge. They had blankets wrapped around them trying to Stay warm. The message was clear, the bridge was now a toll bridge and the fee to cross would be more than a pretty penny.

I could see that there was another guard by the trading post. It was going to be hard to get my outfit across the bridge and past the trading post. I moved my scope back towards the bridge and I saw a small figure dart out of a shadow and run across the road. It crouched in the bar ditch alongside the road then moved slowly down towards the Interpretive Center. It was a little girl. She paused and then moved forward tentatively, disappearing behind the rock building.

She must have made some noise because one of the guards left his post and started to the building. I was worried for the little girl, hoping she would hear the approaching man. The man had reached the building and at the last possible moment the little figure slipped around the corner and fled up the road. With my night vision I could see this plainly but the guard could not and the girl made her escape under the cover of darkness. I watched as she re-crossed the street and disappeared. I now knew where she had come from. She was hiding in the culvert that ran under the road.

That little girl needed help. I worked my way down the slight hill to the start of the bridges. On the far side there was one guard on each bridge. I took the older bridge and, keeping low, I started across. The clean bridge deck made it easy to move quietly. Keeping close to the bridge's railings, I was more than half way across when I could see the outlines of both guards with my unaided sight. I slowly moved closer till I was within fifteen yards. In the still night my low voice carried easily.

"Boys, I have you in my cross-hairs. If you want to see another sunrise drop your rifles and raise your hands."

They both had seen all the sunrises that they cared to see because they started to raise their guns. From this distance the two head shots that I made were easy. They fell without a sound. The AR's sound suppressor kept the sound of my gunfire muffled. I moved forward up to the Interpretive Center. There was no one in the open area but I was sure there were people in the rock building. On the outside of its heavy door a strong lock and hasp was bolted on. I walked past it and up the road where I had seen the little girl disappear. I was moving without a sound and was within a few feet of the culvert's opening when I heard the child. She was sobbing softly.

110

MARBLE CANYON

"Little girl," I called very quietly. The crying ceased immediately. "Little girl, please don't cry. I will help you." No reply.

I tried again, "1 think you are alone and scared. I won't hurt you."

If I were that little girl, there would be no way I would come out to some strange man in the dark. I needed help. I hated giving up ground that I had cleared but I needed a woman's voice. I double-timed it back across the bridge to get Sandy. I had Cat remain with the horses and took Sandy back with me.

Back at the culvert, I took an over-watch position on the bank as Sandy made an effort to coax the little girl out from under the road. She did much better than me. With a soft and tender voice Sandy soon had the little girl out of the culvert and into her arms. In a world that was becoming "past feeling" it did me good to see some tenderness.

The child was scared but was able to talk to Sandy. They were talking softly and I could tell that they were speaking in Navajo. In a few moments Sandy brought the girl with her and joined me.

"Her mother is locked in the rock room with some other women," Sandy said. "The little girl said that they shot her dad and another man. Other people are being kept at a warehouse behind the lodge. She says that every night men get three women from the rock room and take them to the lodge. In the morning they bring them back."

Marble Canyon had become a nasty web that snared the unwary. Those caught in the web were preyed upon. Like a den of vipers, it needed cleaning out. I left Sandy to take the little girl back across the bridge and headed to the trading post. My night vision gave me great advantage. In front of the trading post the guard was sitting on a bench asleep. Across the street on the porch of the lodge was another guard.

I chose to eliminate the sleeping guard first and I needed to do it quietly. I unlaced my Kenetrek riding boots and took them off. I was wearing two pair of thick wool socks and was able to move without sound across the graveled parking lot. To be cautious, I circled behind the trading post. I could not afford to miss a stray guard. The restaurant was attached to the west side of the trading post. As I neared the back of the restaurant, I could smell the stench of rotting flesh. With my night vision I scanned the buildings. By the back door of the restaurant was a pile of human bones that had been poorly butchered. These parasites were supplementing the food from the restaurant with cannibalism.

111

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

I completed the circle and came back to the front of the trading post. The sleeping guard was deep in the shadows of the porch that ran the length of the building. He was sitting on the bench by the front door. Like the other guards, he too was wrapped in a blanket. His head was tipped back and he was snoring softly. On his feet was a pair of expensive dress shoes which stuck out from a pair of nice slacks. Cradled in his folded arms was a single shot 22 rifle.² It was clear to see that this man was not a resident of Marble Canyon nor did he hike up from Bitter Springs, for he was a white man.

Most likely he was someone passing through and got caught here in the nuclear strike. He had been able to align himself with the strong-man who had cobbled together this band of leeches at Marble Canyon. I was sure that a month ago most people did not know what was really inside the heart of this man as he hid behind his business suit. Years ago I had heard a saying, "From a distance all trees look like evergreens until winter comes." Likewise most men, from a distance, look to be decent. It is not until a man is put to the test, that what is in his heart comes to the surface.

This man had chosen to be part of a group that kept people locked up against their will; people that they used. I thought of the little Navajo girl. Quietly I leaned my rifle against the wall and drew my bowie knife from its Sheath. It was a fine knife with an eight inch blade made of Damascus steel, steel that had been folded more than five hundred times. I put the razor edge to the man's throat at the same time I put a hand to his mouth and leaned upon him. He was gone to his Maker without a sound.

I wiped the blade on his blanket and re-sheathed my knife. The man was left sitting as I had found him and I crossed the road to the warehouses. They were a few single story buildings used to store the boats and gear for river runners. In front of the largest one sat a man in a camp chair. That would be the building where the other prisoners were kept. This warehouse was behind the lodge and I risked the muffled noise of another shot from my AR. With another head shot, the man toppled out of the camp chair.

2. Single shot .22 rifle: A .22 caliber gun for shooting small game such as rabbits. A single shot must have a fresh cartridge loaded into the gun after each shot.

112

MARBLE CANYON

I moved up behind the warehouse. Against the outside wall I came upon half a dozen five gallon propane tanks. That gave me an idea. I slung my rifle over my shoulder and picked up a tank in each hand. Quietly I moved to the back of the lodge. It was an old rock building with a high foundation. There was a large access panel that opened to the crawl space beneath the lodge. It was easy to open and I set the two propane tanks under the building. I needed to wait until the women were out of the lodge, then I intended to blow it. But I wasn't going to wait for light to get my crew past this nasty place.

Keeping to the darkest shadows, I circled wide and came to the front of the lodge. Here I could see the last guard and the red reticle of my night scope came to rest on the side of his head. I pulled the trigger and he dropped without a sound. Quickly I went up the steps and dragged him off the porch. I dragged him behind the cars that were still parked in front of the lodge.

Although still dark, the eastern sky was getting lighter with the dawn. I needed to hurry. I started at a slow run and headed back across the road to where I had left my boots. Putting them on, I was off again.

I crossed the bridge and called out quietly as I approached the horses. Cat answered my call and Sandy came down from the hill with the little girl. Picking up the girl, I sat her on my horse as the women got on theirs. I handed the reins to Sandy and Cat took the lead rope of the pack horse. I did not want to get caught out here in the light. I led out on foot, scanning the deepest shadows with my night vision scope.

We came to the bridge and the clip clop of the horses hooves carried through the still of the night. Once across the bridge we stopped at the Interpretive Center. I gave Sandy a few minutes to explain to the women inside what was going on. She then told them to step away from the door and I put a couple of rifle rounds through the lock. We soon had the door open and the women prisoners made their way out. The little girl kept calling, "Ama, Ama," I assumed that it meant mother in Navajo. The last women to leave the dark room answered back. The child leapt off my horse and ran into her mother's arms. I felt anger inside of me as this little girl no longer had a father. There were a few more snakes here that needed their heads chopped off.

We gave the two rifles from the dead bridge guards to the women and asked them to remain at the rock building. I swung onto my own horse and led my crew up the road and past the trading post. I did not stop until a quarter of a mile past it. There I left my little troupe and rode back to the warehouse that held the prisoners. Here I dismounted and spoke through the door. There was a man's voice that replied and I repeated what I had done at the rock building. With the lock shot off, the door opened and about a dozen men came out. They smelled bad.

113

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

None of these prisoners did I know. They were being fed upon by the strong but that did not make them good. They were desperate and I could trust none of them. The largest man was the one who had spoken to me through the door and I gave him a rifle. The rifle was from the dead guard lying on the ground. It was a 22 magnum³ and I emptied the bullets from the gun before I gave it to him. He could load it after I was gone. I explained to him what I had done that night. Then I told him about the propane tanks under the lodge. He quickly understood how they could be used to blow it up after the women were out.

These people were starving and I could not feed them. To them my horse was food and I had the feeling that it was time for me to be gone. Grabbing the pommel of the saddle, I swung up without using the stirrups. Taking the reins, I backed my roan up getting some distance from the men. I then turned the reins and put spurs to my horse. The roan spun away and we left at a run.

I was glad to have Marble Canyon behind me.

3. The .22 magnum: A step up in velocity over the .22. The cartridges are not interchangeable between guns.

114

Chapter 17

HOME

February 25^th

The weather warmed and the snow melted as we traveled the remaining distance to the ranch. It was late afternoon on the third day since we had passed Marble Canyon. Riding our tired horses, we crested the east rim above my little valley. I pulled my roan to a stop and took in the view. I never tired of this place. It was a peaceful place. It was a place of security and it was the land of my fathers. It was home.

With heads hung low, our weary horses stood resting quietly in the warmth of the setting sun. The hunting hounds that I had posted around the basin had caught our wind before we had come into view. They had set off their alarms of deep bellowing barks. With a whistle and a voice command, I brought their barking to a halt.

In this changed world there was no place to become careless. I was not even going to ride into my own home without being careful. Whichever twin was on watch would have spotted us by now, and once we were recognized, we would ride in.

I waited patiently and continued to look over the basin. Everything seemed to be in place until my eyes crossed over the knoll below the house. The little Bonham cemetery had a fresh mound of earth. A new grave had been placed in that sacred spot. was it? Was it KayLee-K or HayLee-H? I had just retrieved one daughter. Had I lost another?

The door to the ranch house opened and one of the twins stepped out onto the porch. She was waving us in and I urged my horse down the trail. We were riding towards the house but the person on the porch could not wait. She jumped from off the wood walkway and starting running to us. It was KayLee-K.

"Dad, Mom!" she cried out excitedly. "Dad, Mom, Cat, I knew you would make it! I knew it!"

As she ran towards us, I could see her face with her long blond hair flowing behind her. She looked and acted so much like her mother. She was full of life and energy. Memories of twenty-five years ago raced through my head. Memories of when her mother and I had been together a generation ago.

KayLee-K came to a sudden stop just before reaching my horse. I knew what had happened. I could see it on her face. There was shock and bewilderment as she saw that the woman on Mom's horse was not Mom. She stood there with her mouth half open.

115

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

I swung down from the saddle and stood before her. Words would not come to me as I watched the pain come across her face. It was the pain that comes from the loss of a loved one; the pain that was common to the lot of mankind, but to the individual, it was always personal and poignant. I wished I could take the pain away. That somehow I could bear it for her, but I could not. I could only support her in it. That support would be received by KayLee-K only when she was ready, and she was not ready.

She took a Step backwards, away from me, and straightened her shoulders. Like all my children she was emotionally strong. I nodded towards the fresh mound of earth in the cemetery.

"It's little Jamie." KayLee-K answered my unspoken question.

"They are here? They made it?" I asked as a mixture of emotions flooded over me. Every day I had silently prayed for Dan and his family. The fear that I would never see my son and his family again had been at the back of my mind every day for the last 29 days.

Relief coursed through me mixed with the knowledge that my son had lost his daughter. I had gained my son and lost my granddaughter. KayLee-K now stepped towards me and placed her hand upon my arm.

"I'm sorry, Dad," she said.

I looked into her blue eyes. There were no tears. They would come later when she was alone or with HayLee-H. She, at this moment, was thinking of others and how they would be feeling. I was amazed at the internal strength.

With a nod of my head, I led my horse past her and walked to the white picket fence that circled the cemetery mound. I dropped the roan's reins over the hitching rack that stood by the gate Of the picket fence and opened the gate. Walking to the fresh mound, I squatted down upon my heels. The freshly turned soil was dark in color. The dark sandy soil was common upon the knolls of old Indian dwellings.

I picked up a handful of moist dirt and let it fall through my fingers. Dan had taken a slab of sandstone and chiseled Jamie's name, her date of birth and her date of death upon it. James was the name of my father who I had never known and Jamie was the name of my grandchild that I would never get to know.

116

HOME

I remained next to the grave for some time, alone with my thoughts, when I heard the cemetery gate open and close. I turned my head to see Sandy Yazzie walking up the path between the head stones. She paused by the three headstones that were planted next to my great grandfather's. She ran her hand over the nearest one that was marked "Navajo Warrior."

After a moment, she came and sat upon the ground beside me. She brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She sat there quietly and never spoke. I did not feel that I had been intruded upon. It was much the opposite. It was comforting to have her close.

We remained there as the darkness closed upon my little valley. Dan had come and taken my horse to the barn. The stars began to appear in the night sky and someone lit the lamps in my home. At last I stood up. Reaching a hand down, I raised Sandy from the ground. A single word had not been spoken but an understanding had passed between us. It was a feeling of gratitude for each other, that and something more.

We entered my home and a hot dinner was already upon the table. A fire burned in the open hearth. Dan was sitting upon the hearth and Jill was in the rocker next to the fire. She was holding the baby girl that Cat had rescued. The little infant was nuzzled to her breast, nursing peacefully. In this world of chaos the hand of Providence could still be seen.

I looked around the warm room at my family. All that could be gathered in was gathered in.

I was grateful.

117

Chapter 18

ANN RAFFERTY

March 2nd

The gymnasium at the high school in the little town of Orderville was packed and charged with emotion. Like unseen electricity, it could be felt as I walked in. It had been 33 days since the first strike and real hunger was already being felt by some in the town. The town council had been holding regular meetings to deal with the crises.

It was against federal, state, county, and city law to carry a firearm but I walked in carrying my AR-15. As usual, I had my great grandfather's colt revolver strapped to my hip. The old ways died hard with me. The pistol was old but in good condition. It had worn out three separate holsters and I had made the fourth one. I had patterned it after the previous holsters which all were double loop Mexican style. The belt had cartridge loops for 30 rounds of 44 caliber bullets. All the loops were full. Over the belt I had slid magazine pouches for my AR; three pouches that held two, 30-round magazines each. That was six magazines plus the one in my rifle. Each magazine was loaded with 28 rounds. I did not like to keep the magazines loaded to the max. (l felt that the life of the magazine springs would last longer if I didn't completely compress it with a maximum number of bullets) Seven magazines times 28 equaled 196 rifle rounds for my AR.

Fred, the town marshal, had been posted at the door and made a token effort to stop me when I entered. Everyone knew everyone in this small town and I knew Fred. He was a decent guy, a guy that didn't really agree with all the restrictions that had come in the last several years, but a guy who had a family to feed. His job required him to enforce the gun laws and his job was his security. When he had seen me coming with my guns, he had stepped forward and spoken to me. I did not answer and I did not pause, I simply walked past him. He would have had to draw his gun and shoot me in order to stop me. As I said, he was a decent guy and I knew he couldn't bring himself to do that.

I had made it back from New Mexico in time to attend the big meeting. The mayor and city council had been passing resolutions to "relieve the suffering" of the community. The resolutions dealt with the consolidating of food resources. All those who had food resources, production, or storage, were resisting. It had reached the point that those who were resisting had forced this meeting. In turn, the council had turned to the Department of Homeland Security for support.

People were confused. The unprepared were scared. Ann Rafferty was the mayor of Orderville and she was one of the unprepared.

119

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

Ann had moved here from California a dozen years ago packing all the charm and good looks of a movie star. With short dark hair and a figure that filled out her business skirts nicely, she was vivacious and energetic. Beneath the looks and charm was a shrewd politician. She did not look confused or scared; she was laying the groundwork for her own survival.

I knew it, and I also knew where the real power behind the town council lay. The power was not in the council nor was it in the mayor; it was in the DHS agent who had a seat at the table. His name was Zackary Williams and I had known him from his birth. He was the son of my father's best friend. At the age of 36 he 11 years my younger and he was a beast. He was a beast physically and mentally. He was also a local hero. As a youth, he had played as a fullback and a center linebacker for the high school football team in Kanab. When he was just a sophomore, the team was second in state. His junior and senior years, they were state champions. He had been the power house that drove the team.

After high school, he was successful playing for Florida State. His physical size peaked while there when he hit 245 pounds and stood at six foot four. He was drafted first round by the Detroit Lions. This he turned down to enlist in the military and became a Navy Seal. That surprised the folks here, but not me.

I had watched many of his games in high school and I saw something that most did not. He loved to hurt others. The game of football was a good mask for that dark trait. That trait had a dark twin and it was the love of power.

After only three years with the Seals, he was recruited into some contract army¹ of the government. From there he emerged to a high place in the Department of Homeland Security. It seemed to be a strange road he traveled, but wherever Zackary Williams went he rose to the top.

Before Zackary was born, his father and my father were best of friends; my father, the cowboy who lived up the hill and his father, the farmer who lived in the valley. Our fathers grew up together, went to school together and then off to Vietnam to fight. My father, James, returned in a body bag on the same plane that his father, Bill Williams, flew home on.

For obvious reasons, most did not underestimate Zackary 's physical strength. And while most knew that he was smart, they would still underestimate his native intelligence. But when it came to the dark side of his ambitious drive, it took a man with some wisdom to see it.

He sat quietly at the end of the table where the town council was seated in the middle of the gym. Ann Rafferty was speaking and she was emboldened by the presence of the DHS.

120

ANN RAFFERTY

"If we pull together as a community we will make it through this crisis. We have a great pioneer heritage that we can draw upon. The very name of our community, Orderville, was named after the United Order that our pioneer ancestors practiced.² They shared and shared alike. Those who had gave to those that needed. They were equal in all things. The selfless ideal of, 'from everyone, according to their ability, to everyone, according to their needs,' is what will carry us through this time of crises."³

I was a student of history, both of the pioneers and of the world. Ann Rafferty, with her good looks and pretty smile, has just falsely woven together the early Mormon pioneer approach to helping others with Karl Marx's beliefs.

The difference—one ideal was enforced at the barrel of a gun, while the other was freely entered into with the freedom to leave. Both had failed. Now, once again, a pretty face with a convincing voice was telling us that this time it would work. Not only that it would work, but that it was the only thing that could save us in this time of crisis.

Never in the history of the world had Communism worked. When it was enforced by Lenin and Stalin in Russia, millions died. In China under Mao, 45 million died in a four-year span of time.⁴

The last facade of a representational form of government in our little town was being torn away.

1. Contract armies or mercenaries, known as PMC, private military company or PMF, private military firm, is increasingly being used by our government, Blackwater being one of the most noted. They are not subject to the Uniform Code of Military Justice. According to a 2008 study by the Office of the Director of National Intelligence, private contractors made up 29% of the United States Intelligence Community.

2. When the Mormons migrated to the West in the 1800s they sought to set up a communal system where a man gave all his surplus into the hands of the Bishop to be given to those in need. It was called the "United Order." The major difference between the United Order and Communism is under the United Order a person was free to participate or not. Communism is enforced at the point of a gun.

3. 'from each according to his ability, to each according to his need" is a slogan first used by Lois Blanc in 1851 and made popular by Karl Marx as he promoted Socialism.

121

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

"We are all neighbors," Ann continued, "and if no one is selfish and we care about each other, we will be okay. Under federal statute, number: 13603,⁵ in case of an emergency, any resource may be held and used for the benefit of the country. The Department of Homeland Security will be in control of the operations, in the using of these resources, to care for the families of our communities. We are most fortunate to have our own Zackary Williams to be the leading agent for Homeland Security in our area. He is one we all know and can trust."

Applause and a murmur of approval erupted from three fourths of the crowd. They were the unprepared.

The remaining fourth was a polar opposite. Like the positive and negative terminals of a car battery being crossed, the unseen sparks of anger could be felt.

Zackary William's father was the old Mormon bishop of this community and that old bishop was my friend. He was one of the few living connections I had to my dead father. I knew that for years he had been re-emphasizing the teachings of their prophets to store food.

Over half of the community had tired of him and dismissed him as being a radical while another quarter listened politely, making token efforts to lay up food storage. Only a few in the community took him seriously and put their heart into preparing against a time of need.

It was that small percentage of people that were now being demonized as selfish and uncaring in this meeting. I stood at the end of the gymnasium bleachers with my back to the wall. Keeping my back protected was a habit. Zackary Williams was dressed in military fatigues and had watched me walk in.

I remained there, quietly listening to the propaganda for another twenty minutes. This, in a microcosm, was the culmination of the generational march of tyranny in America. The individual no longer had a right to a firearm for his personal protection or for the protection of his freedom. He had no right to control his own property. Property was to be controlled for the good of the whole.

4. In 1958 when Chairman Mao Zedong implemented his "Great Leap Forward" over 45 million died in a four year span under communism.

5. In March 16, 2012, President Obama signed executive order 13603 called the "National Defense Resources Preparedness." This order give the government the authority to seize any and all resources they deem needed in an emergency.

122

ANN RAFFERTY

For years I had watched this wolf stock our liberties. Tucked away on my ranch, I had avoided much of the coercion that the government placed upon the American people. I sorrowed for my country. Half of our country had accepted the mothering of an "all caring" government. That was the half that did not pay any income tax and most of them received a payment of one type or another from the government. They believed that the assistance and entitlements they received would never end. They refused to open their eyes and do simple math. It was easier to believe the fair promises of the politicians.

Half of the other half was distracted. Only the remaining quarter of our country really stood for freedom anymore. We were the minority but a man's freedom comes from God and not from a majority. I had had enough.

My AR was cradled in my left arm. The chamber was charged and I clicked off the safety. Ann Rafferty was still talking as I walked out onto the floor. I walked towards the table and Ann started stumbling over her train of speech as she watched me come. Zackary Williams was at the left end of the table and I passed to the right side. I did not stop until I had circled behind Zackary. This way my rifle barrel was always pointed in his general direction. He pivoted his chair and faced me. I did not take my eyes off of him nor did he take his eyes off me. He had only a side arm, the new 40 caliber Glock.6 Ann was completely disconcerted as she struggled with the choice to turn and look at me or keep speaking to the audience.

She stopped talking and I had everyone's attention.

"This once was the land of the free," I said. "A man used to be sovereign in his own home and his property was his own. Just because the majority of you here need food, it gives you no right to take my cows, Bill's farm, or Jack's orchard. I do not care what the federal statute says or what your town council resolutions are, my cows are my cows.

"It is not right that a man should steal from another, nor is it right for a group of men to vote for a government agency to do their stealing for them. If a man needs help he can ask for help. And when we freely help each other we become good neighbors. Once you take a man's choice from him, you take his freedom and our freedom is more precious than our lives."

This time there were hearty approvals from the farmers and ranchers of the crowd. Ann Rafferty regained her voice.

"You are being treasonous, Jake." She blurted out, her face turning red. "We are within the law! I thought you were a family man. How can you turn your back on the starving children of our community?"

123

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

"Because it is law, Ann, does it make it right?" I returned. "I have food and you do not. Instead of asking for help you have used this council and the muscle of the DHS to try and force from me my food for yourself. You throw the children in to make it sound good. But history teaches us that the children get fed only after those in power get fed."

I was not going to debate more with her. "Bill, Jack, and all of you that have 'food resources,' let's meet right now out in the parking lot."

Without hesitation, Bill led out and a stream of people followed him. This was not the way Ann had anticipated things, Zackary sat still with his hand not far from the handle of his Glock. In all my speaking I had not taken my eyes from him and my finger rested upon the trigger of my AR. I knew he was fast and the town mayor had just branded me as being treasonous. In the mind of many here, he would be upholding law and order if he shot me.

Food and lead (bullets) were more precious than gold and silver by far. Most who remained in the gym had been wealthy by the standard of gold and silver but had become impoverished overnight. The rancher and the farmer, whose hands were stained by the dirt of the earth, had just as quickly become wealthy.

The bleachers were still eighty percent full and I made another pitch, "Any of you who are still here and believe in what I have said; if you believe in freedom and are willing to fight for it, there will be farmers and ranchers who may be willing to take you in. They may let you join them if you will help them defend their places. If I were you, I would go out and ask them.

Another twenty percent got up and left. The community was divided. I saw husbands leave and wives stay and vice versa. I saw daughters leave and mothers stay. I saw fathers stay and sons leave.

A hard line had just divided us. It split the social community. It split the religious community. It split families. It was the hard line of freedom. The words of one of their Mormon prophets came to mind.

6. Glock 40. A semi-automatic pistol that shoots the 40 S&W. The cartridge is a very high pressure round at 35,000 psi, If the ball of the cartridge is pushed into the casing even one tenth of an inch it can double the pressure and lead to the firearm blowing up. I recommend the 45 auto over the 40 S&W.

124

ANN RAFFERTY

The fight for freedom is God's fight ... When a man stands for freedom he stands for God. As long as he stands for freedom he stands with God. And were he to stand alone he would still stand with God Any man will be eternally vindicated and rewarded for his stand for freedom.

I had taken comfort in the words of Ezra Taft Benson, as I often felt alone in my views on freedom. Those who remained in the gym were angry. For the more part they were decent people. I knew most all of them. We had sat together in this very gym over the years, cheering our children as they played basketball. We had laughed at the school plays they had put on. Then we shed tears of joy as we watched them graduate.

Now this building was filled with anger, fear, and desperation. That blend of emotions would soon turn to hate. It would turn to hate because they had children and loved ones that were hungry and those who had walked out controlled the food production in the valley. Those that had walked out were violating the laws of the land, the laws that required that food resources be managed for the good of the whole. They would tell themselves that if it were not for the selfishness of those that had plenty, their children would not be hungry.

The bands that held us together as neighbors were cut asunder. I knew that the budding hate would turn into bloodshed. Even though many would know in their heart of hearts that it would be wrong, they would justify themselves in taking by force what they needed to stay alive. History would repeat itself yet again.

I started to back out of the gym and I now let my barrel point directly at Zackary. He never blinked and he was not intimidated. He was dangerous.

Outside, the light of the sun was refreshing. Bill, the old bishop, was organizing things. People respected him, not because he was a bishop, but because he was a good man. He had spent his life farming in this valley. He was known as an honest, hardworking farmer. Half of his congregation was still inside the gym. They now saw him as a traitor to the government, an enemy of the people.

The people outside were quickly forming into groups around the ranchers and farmers. They understood that all the little farms and ranches spread up the long valley would be raided by those that were starving. It had already been happening, even before the town council had tried to centralize and legitimize the looting.

125

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

Sandy and Cat were sitting on their horses at the end of the parking lot. Cat was holding the reins of my horse and when she saw me they both rode over. I stepped into the saddle and rode to where Bill was talking to a group of people.

"Bill," I called to him and he came over. "Bill, you've always been a good friend to the Bonhams and people trust you. I want to help my neighbors all I can, that is, if I am free to make that choice. The moment anyone demands that I give up my cows they may have them only after I have burnt my powder and the earth has drunk my blood."

Looking up at me on my horse, Bill smiled at me, "You're just like your father, quiet, but full of spit and fire once pushed."

Looking at the fresh stitches across my cheek he smiled again, "Did some lady try giving you a shave with a straight razor?" he asked jokingly.

Sandy was sitting on her horse beside me and I did not know that an Indian could blush but she did. How did old Bill know what had happened? He had a good sense of humor but now he got serious.

"Jake, there are a lot of good people left in that building and I want to help them if I can."

"I haven't had a chance to check my herd," I said, "but they should have calved out about 180 calves. This fall when I wean them I'll bring you all but 40 of them."

"That's real neighborly of you, Jake but fall is a long way from here. Most people only had a two week supply of food on hand when things went over the ledge. There are a lot of hungry people and it is getting worse fast."

"I'm not going to have people eat my mother head, Bill. Everyone thinks that things will get back to normal soon. It won't. This is going to be a long hard haul; it's going to take years. If we eat my mother head there'll be no calves the next year. I will tell you what I'll do. I have twenty yearling heifers that I was going to use to replace some of my older cows. I will bring you ten of them and ten of the old cows."

"That will help Jake, I appreciate it."

I sat there a moment longer. I wanted to ask him about Zackary, his son. It was a tender subject with the old man. To so many in southern Utah, Zackary was a hero but, here and now, father and son stood on opposite sides of an invisible line. There was nothing that I could say that would help so I bid Bill goodbye and rode away.

126

Chapter 19

LONG VALLEY

The little towns of Mount Carmel, Orderville, and Glendale make up what is known as Long Valley. Mount Carmel sits at the gateway to the long fertile valley that is filled with farms, orchards, and livestock. In the West, growing crops depended upon irrigation. These small towns were pioneer towns and all their irrigation was gravity fed by the small river that flowed down the valley. They needed no electricity to produce food. This place could easily feed itself. In today’s world, it was now a paradise.

The narrow valley ran north and south for more than 20 miles. It was flanked on the east and west by mountains. The Bonham ranch was on the east side of the valley on top of what is called the Glendale Bench. A sheer sandstone ledge eight to nine-hundred feet high forms the rim of the bench. It runs the length of the valley and then turns eastward for another 40 miles. It is like a mighty castle wall with limited access to its top. That natural formation made it much easier for the Bonhams to protect their cattle from foragers and marauding bands.

Highway 89 and the Virgin River runs the length of the valley. At the south end of the valley the river turns west and drops into the canyon gorge that became Zion National Park. It was rugged country and the only easy way to enter the valley coming from the large community of Kanab was on Highway 89.

Long Valley is the bread basket that could keep Kanab alive.

129

Chapter 20

ZACKARY WILLIAMS

Of food and women, a man needed only so much,
but of power, of power a man could never have too much.
Zackary Williams

March 4^th

Zackary Williams rested his foot upon the short parapet wall that ran along the top of the flat roof of the two-story building on the corner of Main and Center of the town of Kanab, Utah, Small Town, USA. This town was stereotypical of the ones found in the country music genre that he detested. Like so many of them, its main street was fronted by old red brick buildings. The bottom floors were store fronts and the top floors were office spaces. They all had large windows that permitted generous amounts of natural light. Above all the office doors upstairs there were glass windows that could be opened to allowed air flow throughout the building. The old designs had purpose and function which Zackary had previously taken into account.

It was a cold morning and he held a hot cup of coffee in his hand. He had just finished a full breakfast of eggs, bacon and toast prepared by his personal cook and attendant, a young lady who did his bidding in exchange for food and shelter. One of the offices at the back of the building was converted to a kitchen. Commandeered propane tanks provided hot water and cooking. He was a man who could handle the severest of conditions and hardships when circumstances demanded it, but when he had choice, he loved to partake in the spoils of the victor.

The largest office that overlooked Main Street was now his living space. It was well furnished with the best of furniture and carpet that he had taken from wherever he wanted. The office next to it was his comm room. Here he had military ham radio communication equipment. The

EMP blast that was part of the nuclear attacks had knocked out 99% of all communications in the country. The military and the "right ones" had hardened communication systems. This was priceless. He knew how the furious battles that the Armed Services were waging in the Atlantic and Pacific were progressing. Besides that, each day he had communications with the other DHS agents he had strategically placed in key sections of the western part of the country. The Department of Homeland Security was just the current agency which he now operated under but it was only a temporary stay. This agency was just one of many interconnecting pieces of a puzzle that was being put together. Those that were putting it together were the ones that Zackary really worked for.

131

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

Zackary had been one of those who had determined what agents and resources would be used and where they would be placed. He was not the regional commander for the Department of Homeland Security but it had been made clear to the commander that Zackary was to be given whatever he asked for, no questions asked.

In amusement, he had watched DHS waste resources in the large cities with the foolish notion that they would be able to maintain control there. As the dollar had declined and the economy started to collapse, they had some degree of success, but after the nuclear strike, they didn't stand a chance. The people were like thousands of little ants on a large grasshopper. DHS was overwhelmed in the urban areas.

The chill of the morning was invigorating to him. He had, as yet, to put on his dress uniform shirt and stood in his tee shift, enjoying his coffee. He was a man physically in his prime and his green tee shirt stretched over his ripped muscles. His dark brown hair was trimmed tight and his face clean shaven. Nature had blessed him with a face, body and mind of a god. His mind meticulously reviewed how much of the plan had been completed and the next steps that were to be taken while he was still here.

It had been 35 days ago, on the morning of January 27th that Zackary had awakened to a world that he knew was coming. He did not know when it would arrive, but he had known that it was imminent. There were those that had known the 27th of January would be the day of the nuclear strike but that international intrigue was beyond the reach of his intel gathering abilities. That was okay, he had known enough.

People of power had come to know that Zackary Williams could get a job done. Whether on a football field or running black ops, he was about results at any cost. It was his commitment to results that caught the attention of the "powers that be."¹ Those that wielded the real power for years in this country were not the elected officials. The people that controlled the real power operated behind the scenes and were largely unknown to the public. They were the ones which sought to control which candidates were put forth in both parties and they funded the campaigns on both sides of the isle. For more than a hundred years, through the manipulation of currencies, they had been laying the groundwork which undercut the sovereignty of the States and abridged the freedom of the people. Through policies of spending and debt, they had weakened the nation in preparation for a fundamental transformation.

132

ZACKARY WILLIAMS

To complete this transformation, they knew that it would require violent force to subjugate a remnant of Americans that would not bow down and submit. As a President had put it, these Americans would "bitterly cling to their God and guns."² For that reason this Society recruited men like Zackary Williams. But like so many others, they too underestimated Zackary 's mental abilities and ambition.

No one, but a few from his youth, even knew that Zackary Williams had a photographic memory. That ability, along with so many other things, he kept concealed. With a passion he had studied the history of power from the days of Cain and Abel to the present. He could quote all the dates and events of the rise and fall of all recorded empires. More than that, he studied the people and reasons behind those successes and failures. He had studied the history of the mafia and organized crime. He knew the history of money and studied the world of finances. From the beginning of the Rothschild family in the 1700s, to JP Morgan in the 1800s, to the current power structure of the world banks, Zackary Williams knew their history. He knew their history and he knew some of the living power brokers personally.

Knowledge was power only when that knowledge was applied. He had spent a life of gaining and applying knowledge to achieve his desires for power. Coupled with his natural ability to lead was his willingness to use violence to achieve his objectives. If a man with ability could free himself from moral restraints, he could achieve great things. Under the cloak of secrecy, he had sold his skills. He had been used to eliminate key people that stood in the way of this Society, a secret Society that sought to remold the world.³ He had participated in this intrigue both nationally and internationally.

It was these dark connections that had brought him into the Department of Homeland Security. This department was a useful and needed tool to accomplish this re-engineering. It was needed for the final and greatest obstacle of the conspiracy. That obstacle was the American people themselves.

1. U.S. Supreme Court Justice, Felix Frankfurter, 'The real rulers in Washington are invisible and exercise power from behind the scenes." 1882—1965

2. Barack Obama, April 11, 2008, "...And it's not surprising then they get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren't like them..."

133

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

Zackary Williams had become a key player in the actual implementation of this daring conspiracy. Zackary had contempt for the simple fools of this country but he also had contempt for many of those above him in the power structure. From their ivory towers they schemed and pulled the levers of finance and politics. Through the derivatives market and dark pools of sovereign wealth from other countries, they controlled the flow of trillions of dollars. This made them think they were invincible. But they were invincible only because they could purchase the service of men like Zackary Williams. He was in their service and was one of their front men in seizing control of power producing resources, but he did not intend to ever remain their servant.

Through spending and borrowing, nations of the earth became slaves to their debt. These massive amounts of debt had become impossible for countries to ever repay. It was not intended to ever be paid off. The crushing weight it created was designed to foment civil strife and war. It was out of that planned chaos that this daring Society sought to grab and consolidate great power. To them, Zackary Williams was nothing more than a powerful sword to be used in helping them accomplish their end. But Zackary 's sword had a double edge.

It was easy for him to see where people were in their understanding. The "foolish" put their trust in currencies, stocks, bonds, etc. "The wise" did not trust those forms of wealth, but did use them to their advantage. This class back stopped their wealth with precious metals such as gold and silver. The "wiser" used all those channels of wealth, but understood that the production of food and energy trumped them all when economies collapsed. The "wisest" knew that the production of food and energy was king only when you could control and defend it.

Zackary Williams considered himself very wise.

DHS had been preparing for civil unrest from its conception. The amount of arms and ammunitions that it purchased were in some areas equal to the military.⁴ For years they had been pre-positioning assets throughout the country.⁵

3. Fabian Society, a society that seeks to implement socialism by degrees within a parliamentary type of government. Their symbolism is that of a turtle and the wolf in sheep's clothing. Above their symbols on their stained glass window of their headquarter reads, 'Remold it nearer to the heart's desire!" Which comes from Omar Khayyam, "Dear love, couldst thou and I with fate conspire to grasp this sorry scheme of things entire, would we not shatter it to bits and then remold it nearer to the heart's desire?

134

ZACKARY WILLIAMS

With some of the drones in DHS wasting resources in the large urban areas, Zackary made sure that the best resources went to the right places. He was always in the right place at the right time. The world was in the process of great change and he was going to take advantage of it. In large cities the majority of people would be beyond the control of any organization once hunger kicked in. He had written off the eastern part of the United States and the West Coast. All large urban centers, likewise, were avoided.

For a rural region to survive it would need to have some geographical isolation from the streams of refugees that would flee from failing cities. That area would also have to have means of food production without depending on the power grid. That meant free flowing irrigation water. If that area had energy producing capacity, a capacity that could be brought back on-line with minimal effort after an EMP strike, that region could rise to power from the rubble of a collapsing world. A man who controlled that type of an area, and could place other strong men in similar districts, could build a power base.

The military needed power and food to sustain itself. Food, energy, and military might were going to reshape the world. Zackary Williams had many connections both in the military world and in the world of finances. His photographic memory made it easy for him to master a number of key languages which increased his ability to make and maintain those important connections throughout the world.

The power brokers of this Society depended upon their gold to buy and control men like him. They were physically weak and used their wealth to buy their power. They would soon find that their gold would buy them very little. The loyalty of those who surrounded these power brokers was not as faithful as they might believe. Those at the top would find themselves betrayed in the end.

4. Department of Homeland Security is purchasing over 1.6 billion rounds of ammunition. That is enough ammo to sustain a hot war in America for more than 20 years at the rate it was expended in the Iraq war.

5. They are currently setting up militarized "Rapid Response" bases all around the county militarily equipped including MRAP (Mine Resistant Ambush Protected) vehicles.

135

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

Most of the nuclear arsenal in the world was now depleted. China and Russia had now turned on America and were depleting much of their conventional military might fighting with her.

The Society had helped to stir this pot until it had boiled over. As it boiled over they kept their assets out of the fire. Those assets were their mercenary armies, energy, and food. With mercenaries being loyal only to the highest pay, it was good that they controlled the gold. Now they needed to control energy and food.

Once the timing was right, they would pull all the strings of their web that they had spun throughout the world and grab great power.

The unlikely town of Kanab, Utah, happened to be an important puzzle piece. Long Valley, to its north, could produce the food to sustain Kanab; that is, once the small communities in Long Valley were brought under control. To the east of Kanab was the Glenn Canyon Dam. Lake Powell was a huge reserve of hydropower. Hydroelectricity was some of the earliest and simplest forms of energy. The dam could be one of the first sources of power to come back on-line.

Next to the dam was the Navajo Generating Plant. A great coal fired power plant. That would take more time and effort to bring on-line but together, the dam and the plant were tremendous sources of energy. Just south of Kanab, in the small town of Fredonia, was an oil refinery. Environmentalists and governmental regulations had shut it down.

The environmentalists thought that they had won a victory when it shut down. They too were ignorant and useful pawns as they sought to save the world. The real fact was that it needed to be taken off line temporarily to keep it from being a target. In its proper order, it too would be brought back on-line to be fed by the rich oil fields of southern Utah.

The Society had made sure that certain places would be off limits to a nuclear attack or not a profitable target for an attack. There were other places in the country that had good power production but they were geographically and demographically not in good locations. These were free to be hit or left to fall by themselves.

Fall by themselves they would when hunger hit these areas. In highly populated districts, hunger would be like kicking a red anthill, the swarming masses could not be controlled. That was another reason this area was key.

This area had an extremely low population density. To its south lay the Grand Canyon, a great natural barrier against refugees from central and southern Arizona. To the west was a mountain range and desert that formed a barrier against California and Nevada refugees.

136

ZACKARY WILLIAMS

There were several other key power producing regions that were similar to this one. In these areas, Zackary had been successful in placing other loyal agents, under the umbrella of DHS, along with the needed resources and protections.

One of them he had been in communication with just an hour ago. It was where the Snake River came out of the Saw Tooth Mountains in Idaho. In what was known as Magic Valley were dams which provided hydropower and gravity flow irrigation.

In the puzzle pieces of this new emerging order, the tremendous food producing capacity of this region was more valuable than even the power production. Because of the great value of that area, he had almost chosen to handle it himself. It was because of his personal understanding of this area that he had come to southern Utah. He was a man who seldom ever second guessed himself, but...

It troubled Zackary that, even with the human resources and assets that he had placed in Magic Valley, they were having challenges. The big challenge in that region, as with everywhere, was to control the populace. Even though it was rural, the population density was still much greater than here and they were already having trouble with the local farmers. Once he had this district buttoned down and running smoothly he would go to Magic Valley.

He had selected other areas for the Society, in this country and others, each for their specific resource producing capacity. The common factor with each of his selections was the low population numbers. It was time to put the final pieces of this woven web in place. Once the whole puzzle was assembled it would portray a bold and daring picture.

While the Nation had been consumed in sports, entertainment, and pornography, this Society had been preparing for a reshaping of world power. There were two events that had been planned as the catalyst to finish that "remolding to their heart's desires." ⁶

The collapse of the world's reserve currency, the dollar.
A nuclear "first strike" against America.

*  *  *

It had taken Zackary only 14 days to get the nucleus of his military force organized and up to speed. The following two weeks his agents had continued to train and deploy this force in the town. It had all been prearranged, preplanned, with strategic foresight. All existing law enforcement was already under the control of Homeland Security which meant it was under his control but that was not his starting nucleus. The prison had the readymade army. That is why he had DHS preposition the secured containers at the prisons.

137

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

Each container was EMP proof with communication and military equipment to outfit two hundred men. The communication equipment was vital to the plan and he had two containers placed at the Kane County Correctional facility. The prison housed over three hundred men but only a third of them were of the sort that Zackary could use. He had previously reviewed all inmates' files and knew who he wanted. He needed men that were violent and physically strong.

He had driven to the prison before sunrise the morning after the attack. He had been able to drive because his white SUV, with the dark tinted windows, was hardened, which meant the vehicle's electronics could withstand the electromagnetic pulse from the nuclear attack. Five other white SUVs had arrived soon after him. They were driven by the five men he trusted. These he had planted in different agencies in the local area. They were the best of the men he had recruited and groomed over the years. These were his lieutenants. They had been on many of his black ops teams. These were the ones that would help him put order to this quarter.

It only took an hour to pull out the 125 men he wanted and dress them out in full military uniforms. Before the inmates were allowed to join they were required to swear an oath of loyalty. This oath was supposed to be an oath of loyalty to the "continuity of government." ⁷ That was the proper protocol but Zackary Williams made it an oath of loyalty to him. Violation of that oath was death.

When given the choice to remain in a prison with no food or water, or take the oath, they were only too eager to join. They each were given an M-4 rifle with empty magazines. To start with, only his lieutenants would need to have loaded weapons. The appearance of force was all that was necessary, at first, to exert control in the town.

Once dressed out, the inmates were divided into five platoons of 25 men each, a platoon for each of his five lieutenants. In the early morning they were marched into town. It was not to either of the banks that they went. It was to the grocery stores. Two platoons to Glazier's Market and two to Honey's Market. The last platoon went to the center of town, to the old Mormon church building that had been newly restored to its original condition.

6. Ezra Taft Benson, Sectary of Agriculture under President under Dwight D. Eisenhower, 'A secret combination that seeks to overthrow the freedom of all lands, nations, and countries is increasing its evil influence and control over America... General Conference, October 1988.

138

ZACKARY WILLIAMS

With another sip of his coffee, Zackary looked down upon the old church across the street. The church was his new command and control center. It was a beautiful building with wide steps leading from the street up to the main floor. The bottom half of the building was of cut sandstone with thick red brick walls on top of the sandstone. The walls offered great ballistic and fire resistance qualities. In a world that now traveled at foot speed, its location was prime—the junction of Center and Main.

The new state of the art city buildings had been built next to the building Zackary was standing on. It was now a dark and unpleasant place in which the city officials had to work.. It still had running water but the building had few windows to the outside. With no electricity, the rooms were dark and had no heating, cooling or ventilation. On the other hand, the old church was built before electricity. High arching windows gave it great light. Every room had windows to the outside. In summer the windows could be opened and allow a cross breeze to pass through the whole building. The town had few two story-buildings and where Zackary stood he could look down on most of the town. He liked looking down on the common man.

Timing and speed were crucial in keeping ahead of the population at large. If the people ever united against him he could not withstand them with his small, but growing force. Divide and conquer. He had successfully allied a third of the community to his side. He played his personal popularity to his advantage, and with promises Of providing security, had won their support. A third of the community sat on the fence, not sure if the promises he made could be fulfilled. They also were slow to submit to the idea that he was the legitimate leading governmental official. By law he was. Under the NDA_A, National Defense Authorization Act,⁸ and by executive order he was. During a national crisis they both were in force, making him the chief executive in this part of the country.

The remaining third were suspicious and it would not be long before they began to oppose him. It was time to deal with this third. He had waited, watched and felt the pulse of the community till the time was right. It took only thirty days for the stress and shortage of food to make the ground fertile for the deception.

7. Continuity of Government, (COG) or Continuity of Operations, (COOP). From the Department of Homeland Security's official website, "The exercise, known as Eagle Horizon, is a mandatory annual exercise for all executive branch departments and agencies coordinated by DHS through the Federal Emergency Management Agency (FEMA) and its National Continuity Programs (MCP) Directorate."

139

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

In his hand that did not hold his coffee cup, was the list of this third. The list contained names of heads of households along with names and numbers of occupants.

The delusion that people had privacy made him laugh. The ability of NSA, the National Security Agency,9 to data mine, collate, and organize the personal information of the populace was a modern marvel. All the people had been vetted, and put into categories.

There was a category to recruit from. There was a category to demonize as the ones standing in the way of food and security. There was a category of those that could be made to be viewed as an unproductive drain on the critical and very limited resources—the old, the crippled, and the mentally limited. There were many other useful lists of information with cross sections of all the people in the region.

NSA was an important part of making this whole thing work. Zackary held a dossier on everyone in the vicinity. He had the National Security Agency provide the dossier for him long before the attack. He had simply given NSA the parameters that he wanted searched and compiled. The parameters for the first list, the list that he called the "Troubled Ones," were:

·       Those who had bought three or more guns in the last five years and had no criminal or drug use history.

·       Anyone who had bought an assault rifle with no criminal or drug use history.

·       Those who may not have bought guns but had bought more than five hundred rounds of ammunition in the last five years and had no criminal or drug use history.

·       Those who, in the last two years, had visited web sites deemed anti-government.

·       Those whose food purchases in the last five years were in greater amounts than needed for the household size. (Seizing those food resources would be critical.)

·       Those who were registered Libertarians.

·       Those who were members of the Tea Party.

·       People whose phone calls had been flagged. (It was not just the metadata¹⁰ that NSA had been gathering from all their phone calls, it was the actual call itself.)

For NSA's huge data mining facility in central Utah, this an easy feat. The ability for the facility to collect all electronic communications was a known fact. What people didn't understand was its ability to sort, collate and organize that information.

8. NDAA: National Defense Authorization Act. Wikipedia, "... subsections 1021-1022 of Title X, Subtitle D, entitled "Counter-Terrorism", authorizing the indefinite military detention of persons the government suspects of involvement in terrorism, including U.S. citizens arrested on American soil." It was signed by President Barack Obama December 31 2011.

9. NSA: National Security Agency. The NSA has built the world's largest electronic spy center in Bluffdale, Utah.

140

ZACKARY WILLIAMS

Because most people used debit or credit cards, the facility could calculate the food purchase against the number of occupants in a home and tell how much food was stored up. It could then fold this information into any other chosen parameters. Not only did they know great details about almost everyone in the United States, they were able, from the pattern of that information, to predict much of a person's future behaviors.

The second list NSA put together for him he called "The Useless Ones."

• The old

• The ill

• The lame

• The blind

• Those on medications

• The mentally limited

These must not be allowed to use up any precious resources.

The third list he called his "Recruiting List."

Those on this list could not be on the first two lists.

• Those who were young to middle age and in good health.

• Those who consumed drugs and alcohol coupled with high amounts of pornography.

• Those who did not have extra food on hand.

• Any who had bought a gun or ammo and did have a criminal history.

• Any with violent histories.

• Those who were on government welfare.

• Those who did not have a history of visiting anti-government web sites.

• Those who consumed liberal news media and web sites.

• Any who were members of any socialistic organizations.

The last list he simply called "The Servants."

This list had on it all those who had the technical, vocational or practical skills that he would soon need.

10. Metadata is basically data about other data. They collect this data on phones, cell phones, email, internet chats and faxes. Through Edward Snowden it is now known that the NSA has been collecting and sharing hundreds of billions of Metadata records with other federal agencies in our country and other countries.

141

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

The stores had only enough food on hand to feed the town of 10,000 for three days. But it could feed 500 for sixty days. Hence, part of the reason for the lists.

The protocol he had set for this region called for four-hundred men in uniform. That is why the four platoons had secured the grocery stores.

The food was for recruiting and buying the loyalties of the ones they wanted—the strong that had few morals and community leaders who believed in a strong central government.

Now was his day, now was his time. It was a time for the strong to rule the common man, the simple man. This experiment of a free republic, of people being equal under the law, was a failure. The law of force would now be restored. The anomaly of America would be driven back and put in line with the vast history of the world, the history that demanded that the weak serve the strong.

Zackary Williams swallowed the last of his coffee. It was time to button up the "troubled ones" In Kanab. He needed to do that before he moved on the town of Page and gathered out the human resources that he was going to need in order to bring the hydropower of the dam back on-line.

As he turned away from the edge of the roof, the thought of Jake Bonham crossed his mind. He smiled to himself. It was a smile that was often found on his face whenever he faced a challenge—the beginning of a football game, the start of some black ops, or just before he engaged in combat. Zackary thrived on challenges, or more accurately, he thrived on crushing opposition.

He knew Jake Bonham well and had not been surprised when he stood up at the town council meeting in Orderville. It was that show of backbone that had given courage and solidarity to the farmers and ranchers in Long Valley. He would need to crush Jake Bonham and the spirit of independence that he was helping to foster in the food producers. Food was the kingpin. Without control of the food production everything else would fall apart.

Jake Bonham would be a worthy opponent if Jake was still standing when he returned from Page. In a counterproductive hope, he wanted to lock horns with him. But, that would mean that his lieutenant and the small army would have failed in eradicating the cowboy and subjugating Long Valley.

142

ZACKARY WILLIAMS

Zackary smiled again. The anticipation of physical combat whetted his appetite; at the same time, he did not underestimate the seriousness of the situation. The tactical advantage of the Bonham ranch with its geographical location could not be denied. It could not be better poised to control, hinder, or stop all together, the flow of any resources out of the valley.

"I would like to cross swords with you, Jake Bonham," he spoke into the chill of the morning.

143

Chapter 21

KANAB

March 4th

The mayor of Kanab walked up the front steps of the beautiful old church on Main Street at 10:00 a.m. The military guard at the front door allowed him to enter. He was right on time, as he had been instructed.

"Carl, how are you this morning?" Zackary Williams asked the mayor in a friendly tone as he rose from behind a large desk to greet him.

Zackary was dressed in a crisp green uniform with a white military cap. From his cap to his polished black dress shoes, there was nothing out of place. It was such a contrast to the people outside. The persona and aura of the officer demanded respect, and the mayor gave it.

"I'm doing okay but the call for food is getting pretty loud," the mayor replied as he looked around the large chapel room of the old church.

The room was converted to a fully functioning military command and control center. It was orderly and all personnel inside were dressed in full uniforms and groomed to military standards. The place gave the mayor hope for his town. They were lucky to have been blessed with having the Department of Homeland Security in Kanab when so many other places would not have such resources for a long time.

"Mr. Williams, sir, I want to personally thank you for the leadership that you have brought to our community in its hour of need. Without the strong presence of your men it would have been hard to keep civil strife from breaking out."

"There is no need to thank me; this is simply my job. I'm glad to be able to help in this part of the country that I consider to be my home," Zackary replied. "Now, Mayor, how are things coming for the town meeting at 11:00? Did you contact all the ones on the list that I gave you?"

"There were only four families that were not home," the mayor replied. "AII the rest were contacted by me and the city council personally. Quite a few, initially, were slow to warm up to the invitation but when we explained the reason for the meeting and who would be coming, most said that they would come. Of the six hundred and twenty four families that you were hoping to get to attend, I think we will have close to six hundred of them."

145

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

"So, Mayor, were you very clear that this was strictly a voluntary meeting where the most capable men and women of this town can meet to help create a plan for your community?"

"I did and I see the wisdom in the list you gave me. The families on that list are the ones that are taking care of themselves and others. None of them are beating at the city office doors asking for help."

The mayor paused a moment then asked tentatively, "How did you know which ones were most self-reliant? I've lived here all my life and I couldn't have put together as complete of a list as you have done." Without pausing for an answer, Carl continued, "You know, most of these people I'm sure, did not vote for me. For that reason it took extra convincing to get them to agree to come to this meeting."

Zackary didn't bother to respond to the mayor's question or comment. He turned to the DHS agent that was sitting at the desk by the east wall and asked, "Is everything in place?"

"Yes, Sir," was the short reply.

"Mayor, you've done a fine job. The people will already be gathering at the high school football stadium. You and the town council need to be there to greet them. They will have a lot of questions along with a lot of good ideas that we need to hear."

With that, the meeting with Zackary Williams was over and the mayor found himself standing on the steps outside the church. As the door closed behind him, he shook his head, a little confused. "Everything in place? What in place?"

With a shrug of his shoulders, he brushed aside the thought and walked off to get the town council. It would take fifteen minutes to walk to the football stadium, so he needed to be going.

Zackary Williams did not show up at the "planning meeting" at the stadium right on time, but he was not late. Zackary Williams was never late. He needed time for any late comers to arrive. Zackary 's driver pulled his white SUV into the parking lot and he could see the last of the citizens filing onto the bleachers on the east of the stadium. As instructed, it was mainly men and women with some of the older children. This was a time to hear ideas from the strongest members of the community.

The chill of the March morning was giving way to the warmth of the sun. The mayor and members of the city council were working their way through the crowd with pen and note books. Groups of people were gathering around each of them, voicing concerns and giving suggestions.

146

KANAB

Zackary left the SUV and walked to the gate at the chain link fence that surrounded the stadium. He waited and watched the engaged crowd. Few noticed the three other SUVs arrive. Eight men in each exited the vehicles and all were fully outfitted in tactical gear. They divided into four groups with six men in each group. Each group moved to cover all exits of the stadium. On the empty bleacher on the west side of the stadium Zackary could see the two snipers take their positions. The snipers were no sooner in place than he could see the two platoons of marching men come into view. These platoons were made up of the men from the prison, all with violent histories. They were turning the corner off of the main road and heading to the football stadium. He never tired of seeing his plans come together on schedule. It was time.

Zackary walked through the gate and out onto the football field. He walked until he reached the fifty-yard line at center field. He stood there, straight and tall, with his feet spread slightly and hands clasped behind his back. He did not bark orders or shout for silence. He stood quietly and did not move.

A few more in the buzzing crowd started looking around. They would speak to someone next to them then point at the armed men in uniforms at the gates. The voices began to die down then went completely silent as the platoons began to enter the stadium. The platoons entered in sin- gle file and marched down the end zone line under the south goalpost. Reaching the far sideline, they turned and marched towards the north goalpost. As the leading men reached the opposite end zone line, they turned and marched to the near sideline. They stopped. The soldiers now ringed three sides of the football field with the open side towards the bleachers of people. Each of the soldiers had their rifles at the ready and this time their magazines were not empty.

When the soldiers stopped, there was dead silence. All eyes were on the lone man in the center of the field. Zackary spoke, and In the silence, his strong voice could be heard by all.

This great country was founded upon laws, laws that were enacted by leaders that were elected by the voice of the people. When people defy the voice of the majority and defy those laws they become outlaws. They are a threat to law and order and our efforts to care for the law abiding citizens of this country.

Each of you here has personally violated, or are members of a household that has violated, the "gun safety act." Registered to you are guns that have not been turned in. Therefore, you are all under arrest.

147

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

The stadium began to buzz and a man in a light blue jacket standing at the top of the stadium bleachers shouted out, "'By damn if... "

A shot rang out from across the field and a bullet passed through his head.

The man dropped and the echo of the shot reverberated inside the stadium. Again, the crowd went silent.

Zackary resumed speaking, "If I have another such outbreak and defiance to our laws, I will not hesitate to order an 'open fire' on this treasonous crowd. If you will look at the faces of these soldiers you will recognize that none of them are your neighbors. They all come from the prison. They have no neighborly concern that they may shoot someone they know or care about."

Zackary paused a moment to let it sink into the minds of the crowd. The dead man bleeding on the bleacher seat gave weight to his words.

"Now listen carefully: all men and boys move to the end of the bleachers to my right," said Zackary pointing to his right. "All women and girls move to the end of the bleachers to my left," and Zackary pointed to his left.

"In ten seconds, any male still standing next to a female will be shot."

In fear for the lives of their husbands and sons, the wives and mothers moved quickly to the left end Of the bleachers. The men moved more reluctantly and slowly to the opposite end.

Zackary smiled, he had them now. "Men, your wives and daughters will be safe if you do as you are told. Any problems here at this time and they will be shot first."

"Men, some of you are packing concealed guns on you, for the safety of the women, please leave them on the bleacher seats. Then file down and form up on the twenty-five yard line here at my left."

"Ladies, please make yourselves comfortable and take a seat where you are."

"One last thing, Mayor and city council, thank you for your service to your community. You each may leave this group and meet me back at my headquarters in fifteen minutes. Do not be late."

148

KANAB

It was a "get out of jail free" card and they took it. The men and women of the town government exited the two separate crowds on the bleachers and hurried to the gates. When the last one had left, Zackary nodded to one of his lieutenants standing at the left gate. The lieutenant saluted him back. This operation was now in his hands. Zackary Williams left through the right gate and got back into his SUV and his driver drove him back to the old church. He passed the city officials who were walking at a fast pace and laughed quietly to himself.

Zackary was comfortably sitting behind his big desk when the mayor and town council were shown into the church. He looked at his watch then up at the mayor. Fourteen minutes and fifty seconds.

"Mayor, I would not make it a habit of cutting mandatory meeting times so close. I am a man who demands exactness."

The mayor was definitely intimidated. The mask had come off the man who he thought was going to save his entire town. Now, Carl knew that only those on the right list would have a chance at salvation. Not all of the town council had yet come to that conclusion, but he had, and he was going to bow down and kiss the ring of power. It was the only chance.

Zackary now rose from his chair and walked to the front of his desk. The strength that radiated from this man was intimidating and several council members unconsciously took a step back.

There was nothing he wanted to hear from these people. This was going to be a one way communication with no need to waste words.

As leaders of this community you are to give a unified voice to what has happened today and what needs to happen in the future. You will let this community know how rebellious those families at the stadium were and how their hoarding of essential resources have been the cause of great suffering to this town. The men of those families have been taken to the prison. The women are being allowed to return to their homes. Their homes have sufficient food laid up in storage. You must let those women know that their men will be fed one meal a day if they provide housing and meals for my soldiers. I have made it very clear to the soldiers that no women folk are to be harmed or abused in any way. If the women so choose, they may offer more intimate care for my soldiers in exchange for an extra meal to their men in prison.

As a city government, you will continue to receive three meals a day if you are successful in turning public opinion against those selfish families.

149

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

Along with that, there are others in this community who are draining vital resources. It is not fair that those who have already lived a long life take away from those that are not old. The sick and the weak cannot contribute to the community. Each one of these that are given food to stay alive is killing some innocent child that could otherwise become a strength to your town. You must convince them that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.

Of course, those of you here on this council that are well past your prime can prove that you deserve your place at the table by how well you accomplish this task.

Zackary was through and with a wave of his hand a soldier stepped forward and led them out.

Page Arizona was next and he had another list.

150

Chapter 22

PAGE

March 7^th

Zackary's platoon rolled out on top of the Glen Canyon Dam by A.M. The grey concrete dam was a stately monument that attested to the old intrepid and enterprising spirit of America. On the north of the dam, the vast waters of Lake Powell were held back by the mighty structure. On the south side of the dam, deep in the bottom of the canyon, the Colorado River resumed its flow.

He stopped to check with The DHS agents that he had preplaced to secure the dam. By natural design, the dam was an easy place to keep secure and Zackary had only allotted a handful of choice men to do the job. His white SUV stopped next to the four large EMP proof storage containers that rested on top of the dam. These he had prepositioned several years ago and they were filled with all the electronic circuits and parts that would otherwise be fried by a nuclear attack. The storage containers were large Faraday cages] and protected all the needed replacement electronics for both the hydro power plant of the dam and the coal-fired power plant close by.

He had all the electronic resources needed and now he needed the human resources. Again, NSA had provided him with names and information of all the people who worked at both power plants. These people he needed to gather in and assure their control. It was time to start working on bringing the dam back on-line.

The platoon consisted of three of the hardened SUVs that were pulling trailers. Each trailer was filled with fifteen uniformed men. Behind the SUVs was an old cattle truck filled with boxes of food. The old truck ran because it had been built in 1971 and had no electronic circuits that could be affected by an EMP

Once Zackary was confident that all at the dam was in order, he led his platoon towards the town of Page. They left the cattle truck parked next to the containers on the dam and under guard.

1. Faraday Cage — a metal cage of any size that allows electrical currents to pass around items that are insulated inside it. If built correctly it can protect electronic circuits from an EMP.

151

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

The town of Page lay adjacent the dam and lake, on top of a flat desert plateau. As his SUV ascended the plateau, he looked out on the lake. It had many boats filled with people fishing. Not but a few weeks ago the boats had been motor powered. Now they paddled them out onto the water to fish. The shoreline was littered with tents and people fishing along the water's edge. It was no longer something they did for pleasure or pastime. Their lives now revolved around food or the lack thereof. The timing was good. With the food he had brought he would easily gather in the ones he needed.

At the top of the plateau the SUVs, with their solders in tow, separated and began contacting the homes of the people who worked at the dam and power plant. The first house that Zackary's team stopped at was a large home on Lake View Drive. It boasted a beautiful view of the lake and a yard done in desert landscaping. It was the home of one Stan Wycliffe, the head supervisor of the dam.

As the SUV stopped, the solders exited the trailer and made a nice show of force as they made a small perimeter around the vehicle and the front of the house.

Zackary knocked on the large door. A woman parted the curtains at the tall window next to the door and looked out. Even through the window, a mixture of relief and excitement could be seen coming to her face. The face disappeared and next the sound of a turning dead bolt could be heard. The door swung open wide and the woman stepped out.

"You've come," she cried out.

And so it went. Using the face of a caring government and the lure of food, they gathered out of the crumbling town all of the human resources that they needed. Viewed as a savior, he took the skilled workers to the dam. Their families he would haul to Kanab with promises to care for them. In reality, the families were leverage that he would hold over the workers to ensure that they stayed dedicated to the work assigned to them.

It took Zackary and his team two days to complete the harvest of the human resources from the town and three more days to organize the retrofit crew for the dam. There were only a few entrances to the dam and it was easy to make it a virtual prison for the workers. It was also easy to keep secured from any outside forces.

This was a good plan and it was coming together nicely.

152

Chapter 23

SANDY YAZZIE

March 8th

The Navajo woman watched the man people called Jake Bonham ride into the ranch valley, the little valley that now felt so much like home. Sitting concealed in the over-watch post atop the sandstone rim above the valley, she had been waiting for him. To everyone else, she was just taking her turn at the watch post, but to her she was watching for the one she called cowboy. The sun was setting in the western sky. The evening breeze blew her black hair across her face. She tossed her head and the long hair flowed back in place. Winter had been loosening its grip upon the land. Some hardy mourning doves had come with the warming weather to arrive early at this place. They were down by the spring making their mournful yet peaceful calls.

The woman pondered what she had seen in the passing days. Everything had been magnified immensely, both good and evil. The quality of men's hearts were revealed in times like these. Those that had integrity and nurtured high ideals now shone forth more brightly in this brutal world. Those who had harbored base and low desires now acted upon them with abandonment. She had seen how quickly men could become savage in their actions. Her mother and father had fallen to such people.

She liked watching the cowboy. She had seen him act in a savage manner but it was in the defense of others. He was not savage inside. Quite the opposite, there was a softness that he kept hidden deep within him. She could see it come out when he was with his children. His face would light up and he was quick with a smile or a word of encouragement. His work, his efforts and the worry that crossed his face were all centered on the wellbeing of his family.

She saw that the cowboy had foresight and had seen what was coming to this country. He had prepared for years and taken steps to protect his family. She could see there had been ideals that had been passed to the cowboy from the old ones. The ranch was a place where those ideals were nurtured and passed on to the next generation.

She recognized the unseen spirit of this place because it was the same as where she had been raised. She had been raised in a remote corner of the Navajo reservation. The circumstances of her childhood had been that of very humble means, being raised in a hogan with the family living off a small sheep herd. But it was a happy childhood where she and her siblings had been sheltered and loved.

155

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

This was such a place. She Was drawn to this place, to these people and to this man. She had never married, and at the age of thirty-two, she pondered why she had not. It was not for the lack of men wanting to be with her, in marriage or out of marriage. At the age of thirty-two she looked the same as she did at twenty two and the men still sought after her. She knew why she had turned them all away. She was looking for a man's man, not a boy in a man's body.

Her father had been the model of the man she desired. He was a descendant of Manuelito and had sought to walk in the footsteps of the great chief. Chief Manuelito had led his people before, during and after the Apache and Navajo roundup in 1864. During this time the tribes were taken to Bosque Redondo in the New Mexico Territory. It was known as the Long Walk.¹ In 1868, when the Navajo people returned to their lands, destitute and in rags, he helped to restore the herds and prosperity of his people. She had grown up on the stories of the Chief and wanted a man like that.

She had set a high bar, and as the years had gone by, started to doubt if she would ever find him. She thought back to the stormy winter night when she had first seen the cowboy. She remembered the fear that had come over her when she had awoken to the man standing over her. Had she been a little swifter, her aim with the knife a little truer, the cowboy would now be dead. She shuddered at the thought. So many leaned upon this man for strength, for shelter, for protection

The man worked tirelessly, giving to those he cared about and he did not lean on anyone except his God. All of this could be seen easily by those around him but she saw something else in the man that others did not. They did not see the loneliness that he kept hidden. It was not the loneliness of not having family or friends, he had those, but this cowboy kept the deepest parts of himself to himself. It was locked tightly and she knew that it would open only to one. It would open only to one that he trusted completely and it could only be a woman.

1. The Long Walk: In 1864 more than 10,000 members of the Navajo and Apache tribes were driven to Bosque Redondo. Four years later when they were released more than 2300 of them had died. For many years Chief Manuelito was a great leader of the Navajo people.

156

Chapter 24

ANTIBIOTICS

March 9th

Dan's horse sat down on his haunches as it slid down the rocky sides of the ravine. It was steep and rocks rolled as dust rose up around him. Reaching the bottom he pulled his horse to a stop and waited for Cat to make the descent. Down she came without a second thought or hesitation. All the ranch horses were sure footed in the rough stuff. It would have been easier to stay on the dirt road or one of the main cattle trails, but Dad had asked them to be extra careful. That meant traveling off of any beaten path or road. They were on their way to Kanab, taking the long way around down through Kanab Creek.

"Dan," Dad had said to him the night before, "I have tried to store up as many things that I could think of that a family might need in a time of crisis. There is one thing that I have struggled to get enough of and that is antibiotics. For those that become wounded or injured, it can mean the difference between life and death."

"It has now been more than a month since things went over the edge and people will be willing to trade just about anything for food stuff. Here are eight quarts of vegetable oil. Of all food items this is the most valuable. A person can cook roots, bark or bugs in this oil and make them palatable. In Germany after WWII, people could trade a pint of cooking oil for a fifty pound bag of potatoes. Find the veterinarian in Kanab, you should remember him, his name is Kelly. Trade this cooking oil for antibiotics. Kelly's a good man with a good family, make a fair trade and don't drive a hard bargain."

Cat's horse reached the bottom of the ravine and they continued south towards Kanab.

"It's good riding with you again, Cat," Dan said. "When I left home you weren't even in junior high yet."

"I might have been young, Dan, but I was getting almost as good as you with a rope when you left."

"That's because you were a little squirt and got to do the roping with the twins while Dad and I did all the throwing of the calves," Dan said.

"Yeah, those were good times. We have really missed you here at the ranch, especially Dad. He had always hoped that you would settle here and get a ranch of your own."

159

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

Dan didn't say anything for a while as they rode on. He was looking for a break in the side of the ravine in which they could ride out. Coming to a promising spot, he turned into it and the horses began the labored climb to reach the top. Once he and Cat had reached the top, he drew rein and gave the horses a breather.

"I haven't been here much in these last years but it's good to be here now. I'd forgotten how much I do love this place."

"You fit here, Dan. You're even looking normal back in your Wrangler jeans and boots. Those pants you came a wear'n were funny looking."

"They weren't funny looking. That was the latest style in California."

"They were funny looking, Dan. California can't make up its mind from one year to the next what looks good. That is, it used to be that way. I imagine style is the last thing on their minds now."

Cat drew silent and she could tell that the trail of this conversation was getting close to recent and tender memories for Dan. The death of Jamie was not that long ago and she had often seen Jill rock baby Vondell with tears in her eyes. The little baby that she had brought to the ranch helped to fill Jill's empty arms. Caring for the infant had brought comfort but it did not fill the hole.

The horses were rested and they started on again. The morning passed to noon and they drew close to the nationally famous Best Friends Animal Sanctuary located on the creek. They stayed to the east side of the creek, skirting the sanctuary. It was a large stretch in the canyon of the creek, taking in many acres, filled with barns, corrals, fields, and houses. Normally there would be hundreds of animals there. Now there were none. There was no guessing what had become of them. They had all been eaten—horses, dogs, and cats. The place had a bad feel to it.

It was early afternoon when they reached the ravine called Hog Canyon. It was the last side canyon before Kanab Creek opened up to the town of Kanab. Deep into the canyon Dan and Cat stopped at a hidden overhang. The overhang was concealed by a tall thicket of scrub oak at its front.

Once the horses were inside of the overhang, Dan and Cat loosened their cinches and waited for dark. They would use the cover of darkness to ride in and out of Kanab. No use inviting any extra trouble.

160

ANTIBIOTICS

Cat took first watch as Dan stretched out on the sandy floor to close his eyes. Before putting his cowboy hat over his face he made an off-hand comment.

'There's a lanky boatman I hope shows up here at the ranch. I owe him a lot."

The boatman never came.

After a couple of hours Dan switched places with Cat. Before the first stars appeared they were both back in the saddle, working their way back out of Hog Canyon. Staying to the creek bottom they rode until they came to Kanab.

Coming out of the creek, they rode quietly down the dark side streets of the town. It was dark. No more street lights, no more porch lights and only dim lights from candles or kerosene lamps coming through the windows.

The streets were empty with no one out and about. The clip clop of the horse hooves on the pavement was louder than they wanted. At first they feared rousing some dog whose barking would reveal their presence. Then they remembered the Best Friends Animal Sanctuary. There would be no dogs here either.

Taking one more turn, they came to the home of Kelly, the vet. A wood picket fence surrounded the two-story redbrick home. The house was built by an early resident of the town. It was old but well-built with a tidy yard.

From the backs of their horses they could see through the window into the kitchen. A kerosene lamp glowed in the middle of the table and a man was tipped back in a kitchen chair with his military boots propped up on the table.

That could not be Kelly as the man was in military fatigues. Kelly's wife, who was known as Mrs. Kelly, was clearing dishes from the table with her teenage daughter helping. The daughter was staying close to the side of her mother as they worked. This was not the picture of a pleasant family evening.

Dan and Cat walked their horses around the house looking through all the windows as best they could. It was hard to know for sure, but all they could see were two soldiers in the house. Both were at the kitchen table.

The second soldier was on the opposite side of the table and could only be seen through the living room window.

161

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

What to do? In whispered tones Cat and Dan weighed the options. They determined that they would do all they could to return to the ranch with antibiotics. To use pistols or rifles was the next decision. Rifles it was as they were both carrying AR-15s with sound suppressors.

It was a changed world. Prior to the nuclear strike just months ago, neither of them had ever pointed a gun at a man. Now it was just a matter of which gun.

Tying the bridle reins to the picket fence with slipknots, Dan took the point with Cat at his back. Ascending the wood steps of the porch, the boards creaked as they approached the door. With rifle at the ready, Dan tried the door knob. It was not locked and he pushed it open and walked into the dark parlor room. The hinges of the door creaked loudly as it swung open. The first soldier at the table turned his head and looked calmly into the dark room as if the approaching person was expected.

Dan and Cat stepped into the light of the kitchen with pointed guns and the men froze where they sat.

"Ma'am," Dan said, "would you and your daughter mind stepping outside with my sister for a moment? I'll keep these gentlemen accompanied here.

The women quickly exited the room and followed Cat outside.

Dan remained and his rifle was pointed at the head of the nearest man. The man opposite the table was also in the line of fire. Casually, Dan spoke again.

"I've been told that one .223 bullet can easily pass through two heads. I wonder if that's true. What do you boys think?'

They didn't answer.

Back out on the porch, the mother asked anxiously, "Cathy, what are you and your brother doing here?"

Kelly was the veterinarian Dad always used and the two families knew each other.

"Mrs. Kelly, what are those men doing in your home and where is your husband?"

"They've taken him and our friends to the prison. If we feed and house these men they promise to feed Kelly."

"Mrs. Kelly, I'm so sorry. When will they let him out?"

162

ANTIBIOTICS

"They promise that there will be trials followed by re-education but I don't believe they will ever let him out."

"You and your daughter must come with us."

"I can't. If I don't feed these men they won't feed Kelly, but please take my daughter. It is killing me what they are doing to her."

Cat did not ask what that was. It was understood without explanation and it filled her with anger. She pressed Mrs. Kelly again, "You both must come. You can't stay here."

"I can't, I won't. I could never abandon my husband."

Mrs. Kelly was determined in her decision so Cat moved to the issue of antibiotics. Using Cat's flashlight, the woman led them to the basement of the house through an outside stairwell. In the basement was a fridge that was no longer running that contained vials of antibiotics. Taking a paper bag from the shelf, Mrs. Kelly put twelve vials into it leaving a half dozen still in the fridge. Cat gave the lady all the jars of vegetable oil.

"Ma'am," Cat said, would hide this cooking oil and the remaining antibiotics. You know how valuable they are. If you change your mind, make your way to the ranch. Well make room for you there."

Mrs. Kelly and Cat returned to the kitchen where no one had moved from the time they had left. Cat stepped up to Dan's left ear and spoke quietly. Even in the dim light of the kerosene lamp, she could see the blood rise up in the face of her brother.

"Keep your gun on that man," Dan said, pointing to the man across the table. Then he smashed the barrel of his rifle into the back of the head of the man nearest him. The man's face slammed into the table and Dan stepped back and handed his rifle to Mrs. Kelly. The soldier was sitting, dazed from the blow, and Dan grabbed his hair. Yanking the man's head back he hauled him to his feet. With a shove, the soldier stumbled into the living room.

The man turned to face Dan, wiping his bloody nose with the back of his hand. It was unspoken but clear. This was going to be fist to fist. In a rage, Dan waded into the soldier who was bigger than himself. The soldier swung a roundabout right at Dan's head and it connected. Dan did not back up, but stepped in, swinging his left elbow up hard it crashed into the man's chin driving his head back. Dan's right knee came up into the man's groin. Making a horrid sound, the man folded forward only to have his face meet Dan's other knee. Remarkably, the man remained on his feet and started making wild but ineffectual punches.

163

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

Cat watched in awe and astonishment as she witnessed a side of her peaceful brother that she had never seen. With furniture crashing around them, Dan tore into the man with a fury. Soon the man could withstand no more and crumpled to the floor in pain.

Drawing deep breaths and with clenched fist, Dan stepped back from the fallen man. Satisfied that the man would not rise to his feet, he walked back and took his rifle from Mrs. Kelly. The beaten man struggled to a sitting position on the floor.

Facing the men, Dan spoke, "Boys, you now work for me. Your job is to take care of Mrs. Kelly the way she wants to be taken care of. You are a guest in her house. Act like it. Do some dishes. See to it that her husband gets two meals a day."

Speaking directly to the man sitting on the floor, "Let your commanding officer know that you will be more careful going down stairs."

Then speaking to both men, Dan continued, "In ways that you will not be able to monitor, I will check in with Mrs. Kelly from time to time to see how you fellers are doing in your new job. I have a good memory. I will not forget your faces and do not think that moving to a new home will relieve you of your responsibility. If you fail, I will not kill you. That would be too merciful. I shall come some dark night as I have done this night. I shall castrate you. I shall cut off your nose and all your fingers. Then I shall leave you alive to be eaten by your own."

As hardened criminals, they understood the difference between hollow threats and real promises. They knew they had just heard a promise.

Mrs. Kelly's daughter had gathered a few items and was soon riding double behind Cat. Through the night, the brother and sister rode with the young girl in tow. The morning stars were giving way to a new day as they entered the safety of their father's valley.

164

Chapter 25

ANN RAFFERTY

March 11^th

Ann Rafferty knew that staying alive would require all her political savvy. To obtain food she needed force of arms. As mayor and under the authority of the Department of Homeland Security she had been gathering those that would follow her. Mostly they were ones who were in need of food and believed that only a collective effort overseen by a governing body could save them. Zackary Williams had made it clear that the food production of Long Valley was to be funneled to Kanab. Those that helped to seize the farms and operate them would have share in the food.

Zackary had sent one lieutenant with fifty men to Orderville while he had traveled to Page. As required, Ann had been active in making speeches and gathering citizens to the cause. It was easy to gather the seared and hungry. Those that had food and produced food were not so easy to sway. In fact not one farmer or rancher submitted to the laws. There was no middle ground. Everyone had gone to one camp or the other.

Ann had a gift of speech and persuasion. Since the failed meeting where Jake Bonham had successfully undermined her, she had applied all her talent to his destruction. In every speech she vehemently spoke of the rebellion and selfishness of those who controlled the food production. With skill, she painted Jake Bonham as the face and cause of their suffering.

With the minds of many steeped against Jake Bonham, it was time to move against his ranch. If Jake's ranch had been at the end of the valley, or out of the way, he could have been dealt with later. But his reputation and the location of his ranch required that he be subjugated first. It would be like chopping off the head of a snake. Making an example of the Bonham ranch would help motivate the rest of the farmers and ranchers to cease their rebellion.

Combined with the fifty soldiers that came with the DHS agent from Kanab, there were now over two hundred and seventy men willing to take up arms against their neighbors. To Ann's chagrin, there had also been a movement of the people who opposed her. She had reports of them moving from the valley up to the Bonham ranch.

165

Chapter 26

RETROSPECTIVE

Beat your plowshares into swords, and your pruninghooks into spears,
—Joel 3:10

March 11^th

Standing on the porch, I looked across my little valley as the old cattle truck rumbled through the wooden gate. It had made a number of risky trips loaded with food storage. It was the food storage of the families that now filled my little valley. These families had come from the communities below and their tents now dotted the meadow.

They had fled here for protection from Ann Rafferty's vicious propaganda, a propaganda initiative that was now backed by armed men. Men that had been our friends, men that were still our neighbors. They were now willing to take our lives if we did not give them our food. Without the backing of Zackary Williams and DHS, Ann Rafferty could never have organized a force even half the size that now threatened us.

Zackary William's father, the old bishop, was now walking towards me. He moved slowly and he was more stooped than I had ever seen him before. The conflict that had come to Long Valley weighed heavily upon him.

"Hello, Jake," he called out.

"Howdy, Bill. How are things coming along?" I asked him.

"We're getting settled in. Thanks for letting us come here. There is no better place to make a stand than your ranch," he replied.

"What's the count?" I asked.

Bill pulled out a piece of paper from his shirt pocket and unfolded it.

"There are forty-three families. That is forty three fathers with rifles and there are another twenty six boys that are armed and can fight. That is sixty nine men under arms," Bill answered.

"That's good Bill, that's good. That cuts the odds down to 'four to one," ' I said. "Come on in and sit down, my old friend."

Bill folded the paper and put it back into his shirt pocket. He did not immediately come up the steps; instead, he leaned his forearms on the hitching rack and rested.

167

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

"You know that they hate you, don't you?" he asked.

"Hate me? Who?" I asked as if I was surprised but I was not.

"Everyone left in Long Valley, that's who," he replied. "They don't like me or the other ranchers and farmers who have moved up here, but you're the one they hate. Ever since you took the steam out of Ann Rafferty's kettle at that town meeting, every hungry person blames you. Ann has successfully campaigned against you, telling them that if you had not divided the community that we could have all worked together. And, with shared sacrifice, we all would have had food to eat. You are the face and focus of their suffering."

I had studied the economic collapse of countries and hate was part of a natural progression. It was usually fanned by those in government as they struggled for their own survival. They need division. By promising to give to one group, they sought power to plunder another group. By promising to make things fair and equal, they could remain in power and stay fed.

"It is what it is, Bill. Come on in."

He came up the steps and I led him into the house. At the table I spread out my map of the ranch. For the next hour and a half we re- viewed the defensive plans that we had been crafting. The old man had fought in Vietnam alongside my father and I valued his wisdom but there was no question who was to make the final decisions. This was my home and my ranch. As long as these good people respected the sovereignty of a man on his own place, I was willing to fight by their side in defense of what was our own.

It was plain to see that Ann and our neighbors would come against us. They could not wait us out. We had food and they did not. Before they got organized, I had helped the ranchers and farmers drive every head of livestock out of Long Valley. We had moved them to the top of the Glendale bench, mostly on my ranch. It was the most secure range with the long sandstone ledge of the bench to protect them.

It would be months before food could be harvested from any of the fields that fell into Ann's control. The fields still needed to be planted and tended before they would produce. There were no farmers left to do the work. Those that were left had neither the knowledge to farm nor the seeds to do so.

168

RETROSPECTIVE

Even if they had both, they had not the food to sustain their lives till harvest. They were in desperate straits. They had to turn upon us if they wanted to live. Had they asked, we would have freely given even more, but they had not. They demanded that all food production be put under governmental control. We were to give them that which sustained our families and then trust them, trust them when they said that they would take care of us.

Night was coming on and I rolled up my map.

"Bill," I said, "I know your prophets have taught for years to store at least a year supply of food and to grow gardens. You have preached it for years yourself. How is it your people could go to your church year after year, professing to believe that your church was led by prophets, and not follow their teachings? Now some of these same people are willing to kill me and my family to take my cows. How did that happen?"

My old friend sighed and his head dropped down. I wished I had not said anything. I knew human nature, I knew how it happened.

Standing up, I put a hand on his shoulder, "Bill, you've done all you could to warn these people. Your hands are clean. I'm sorry it has come to this, neighbor against neighbor. We stand on the side of freedom, and as you stood with my father, I am proud to stand with you."

The old man raised his head and looked at me, "Jake, no man lives forever. When he goes he hopes that his life was worthwhile. He hopes that he has left the world better than he found it. Your Dad and Mother can rest at peace in their graves because you walk the earth. You are an honor to their name. How did my son become the opposite of who I am?"

This was the first time he had ever spoken of Zackary to me. I had known that it was a source of sorrow to him and now I could see it plainly on his face. Not only was it neighbor against neighbor, it was father against son.

I was at a loss for words. I wanted to say something to strengthen my old friend but could say nothing.

Bill stood up, "When I was in 'Nam with your Dad, he had a feeling that he would never come home. He asked if I came home, and he did not, that I would look after you. With your grandparents, you didn't need a lot of looking after, but it has been a delight to be your friend. You have brought me a lifetime of joy."

With that he walked out the door.

169

Chapter 27

HOPES AND DREAMS

March 12^th

The next morning I awoke before light. I could hear the Navajo woman preparing breakfast in the kitchen and could smell the frying of eggs and some beef. From the day we had arrived back from New Mexico she had taken on the household duties. I lay in the dark, enjoying the sounds of a woman in the house. It was a simple thing, the swishing of a woman's skirt, the sound of pans on the Stove, the humming as she worked. It brought contentment to my heart. After the last years of being by myself at the ranch, it was nice to feel that loneliness fade.

She did not sleep in the home with the rest of my family but chose to spread her bed in the grain room of the barn. She came into the home early to prepare breakfast and in the evening she did the same. I seldom spoke at length with her but enjoyed having her close. Today I would do more. I would ask her to ride with me as I checked our defensive placements and cut the range for tracks of any intruders.

Sitting up, I placed my feet on the floor. Taking the glass chimney off the kerosene lamp next to my bed, I struck a match and lit the wick. Placing the chimney back on the lamp, the light increased in the room. 1 then dressed in my wranglers and shirt. I pulled on my boots with my spurs still on them. By habit I buckled on my chaps and then my 44-40 Colt. Standing there dressed as was my norm, I knew that today may be the last day I could dress this way for some time. I must shed the wranglers, the chaps and the spurs for my 3-D camo gear.

I withdrew the camo from the bottom drawer of the dresser and laid it on the bed. The material was soft to the touch and that was important. When passing through the limbs of brush and foliage it made no sound. There were leaves of the same material that were sewn to the jacket, pants and cap. That helped break up the outline of the body much more effectively that plain camouflage color. From the cap that would go on my head to the boots I would place on my feet, the pattern was matching.

It was the pattern and color that best matched the foliage of the ranch. I had painted all my AR rifles and attached scopes with the same camouflage colors.

171

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

There was one item that I had worn most of my life I was struggling with. I found it difficult put off my 44-40. I felt out of balance when I did not have it buckled around my hips. It was like a child's security blanket and I did not feel comfortable without it. The only times I did not wear it was when I took a bath, went to bed or walked into a church. Except for church, it was never far from my hand. I did not have to make that decision today and now it was time for breakfast.

The family had already gathered to eat and was waiting when I entered. Sitting at the head of the table I took the time to look at them before we said grace. I loved this. I loved sitting down with my children to eat. Life passed so quickly that it was easy to miss the important things.

It would not be many days before the valley would come against us. Would I get all of these, whom I loved, through it alive? Would any of us make it? The odds were four-to-one against us. I had to believe that we could all make it. We held the high ground. We were defending. We were well fed. All these things helped to even the odds. Still, I would cherish every moment I had with my family.

After we had finished breakfast, the family pitched in and the dishes were quickly done. They drifted off to their various responsibilities and I remained in the kitchen. Sandy had tarried, taking her time drying the last of the plates.

I sat down on the edge of the table with my feet resting on the seat of my chair. I sat there, relaxing, as she put the last plate away. She then picked up the broom and started sweeping the floor, a floor that was clean and did not need sweeping.

There was a feeling of contentment and ease in the room as she went about her work. She was dressed in the same velvet skirt that she wore the first night that I had seen her and her hair was braided. The black hair was long and the braid came to the small Of her back. Standing in her moccasins I judged her to be five feet, four inches tall. She was trim with a fine figure. Again I marveled at her physical beauty but it was always her eyes that most mesmerized me—vivid green eyes that were filled with light.

The aura of the woman spoke of a person that was not trivial or shallow. I still did not know her age but it had to be far beyond what her physical body manifested. In the time that she had lived here I had quietly observed her maturity. Her character was manifested as she had worked around the ranch, as she interacted with my children, and as she gave of herself to help others. She was not selfish. That always enhanced one's beauty.

172

HOPES AND DREAMS

I judged her to be in her thirties. There is a certain maturity that comes only with time and experience and I saw it in her. I thought of my wife. I missed her and I had been missing her a long time. It had been hard for her to spend time here at the ranch. With the drive, ambition, and talent that she possessed, this ranch did not provide a good window to showcase it all. We spent time between Albuquerque and the ranch when our family was young. But as her career advanced there, and my responsibilities Increased here, our time together became less and less.

The small town school of Long Valley offered our children a more conservative education and that is where we decided they should go. They naturally spent more time at the ranch and with me.

From the time I first fell in love with her to this very day, I had always loved my City Rose. I knew that she loved me ... and her job. She could have easily supported the whole family from her career in Albuquerque but I could not accept that life. I was too old school, too old fashioned. A man is always at his best when he is taking care of a woman—when he is caring for a family. It gives him a reason to get up in the morning, a reason to work hard, and something to come home to in the evening. On top of that, this ranch was my heritage; the land was sacred to me. In the city I was like a wild animal that was endlessly pacing in its cage, an animal that unceasingly sought the homeland of its birth.

I had comforted myself in the illusory dream that my wife would come home to the ranch and find contentment here. The loneliness was eased by the joy I found in my children. That could not last, for they each had dreams and lives of their own. It was a year ago that our youngest, Cathy, struck out to paddle her own canoe. That is when the evenings at the ranch became very long. My books helped some, but the nights would find me sitting in the house with nothing but the ticking of the antique clock to break the silence.

Sandy put the broom away and turned to face me. She looked at my left hand and I realized that, again, I was turning my wedding band with my thumb.

"You loved her, didn't you." It was not a question; it was a statement.

"Yes," I replied.

"From the looks of your daughters, she must have been very beautiful."

"She was," I answered again. Those two simple answers were the first I had spoken to anyone about my wife for a very long time. It was a subject that even my children knew was off limits, but I did not find Sandy's comments intrusive.

173

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

She walked across the room and put her hands on my knees. Looking at me with those green eyes she said, "Cowboy, I would like to ride with you when you go out today."

She could not have known how welcomed that request was. She was mirroring my own desires. To ride this wild and beautiful land, to share it with a woman who would love and appreciate it as I did, was an old but unfulfilled dream.

"I would like that, Sandy. It may be the only chance I will have for some time. You change into some jeans and I will saddle you a horse."

The sun had crested the eastern rim of the basin and was spilling its yellow rays of morning on the land. It was a beautiful morning, like so many others. In many ways, it was as if nothing had changed. My kerosene lights worked as they always had. The water flowed to the house and barn just as it did a hundred years ago. My table did not lack for food. The ranch stood, as yet unaffected by the turmoil of the land.

I could wish that the world would pass us by and leave us alone, but it would not. It could not. The world was passing through a cleansing fire and the unprepared were abandoning their remaining virtues in their fight for survival. In a day or two, our neighbors would be coming to take our food, which meant our lives. But this morning, that all seemed far away.

In my personal string of horses I ran five head. From that string I picked a dandy bay that was a nice moving horse. I saddled it up and was just throwing my saddle over the roan when Sandy appeared. She was in her wrangler jeans and wore a blue blouse that KayLee-K had given her. From the hitching rack she untied the reins of the bay and smoothly swung onto its back. She watched me as I finished drawing the cinch tight on my horse and then mounted the roan.

We rode up the trail to the rim of the basin where we met Dan. It was so good to have him here. He was strong, emotionally and physically. I could count on him to hold the line. Dan supervised the defensive emplacements and was currently rotating men on six hour watches. The men not on watch were working with axes, clearing tree limbs and brush beyond the rim. They were eliminating cover for those who would attack us.

On the rim there were thirteen emplacements that compassed the small valley. Each one was a well camouflaged trench that could comfortably hold five men. They were roofed with scrub oak and other natural foliage. They had shooting ports made of natural stones that blended with the ground. The emplacements were situated where they could give crossfire support to the other emplacements. With five men in each, all the men that had come to our ranch could be engaged in the fight.

174

HOPES AND DREAMS

This small valley rim was naturally a superb position to defend. It was the high ground with no place for snipers to get above us. Psychologically and physically there were great advantages. No emplacement would feel isolated from the others. Each of the thirteen emplacements was in the line of sight of the other as they ringed the basin. The distance between emplacements ranged from 50 to 150 yards.

The widest part of the valley, from rim to rim, was under a 1000 yards. The ranch house and barn inside of the basin were of stone. Inside these the women and children would be safe from rifle fire if any part of the rim was taken by our neighbors. From both the barn and the house, supporting fire could be given to any part of the rim that might be overrun. There were a number of women that were excellent shooters and they were given rifles.

When it came to guns, there was a mixed lot. Mostly deer rifles with the most common cartridges being 243, 270 and 30-06. These rifles would hold only four in the magazine and one in the chamber. That meant that a person would need to reload after every five shots.

Bullets were the worry. Some men came with only a box or two of bullets, twenty bullets to a box. Others came with several hundred rounds per gun. It was heartening to see the men share freely with each other to create a balance of bullets between them. They went so far as to exchange their deer rifles so that each emplacement had guns shooting the same caliber.

That was the way things should be. No man was being forced or required, but of their own choosing they worked together. A spirit of brotherhood and camaraderie was engendered amongst the families. If one was to die, it would be an honor to die amongst people like these.

Of the forty-three families, only three of them had AR-15s. One family had only one AR rifle and the other two families had three ARs each. Those were the families that had been the most forward looking and had prepared accordingly. That was a total of seven rifles with high capacity magazines, not counting the six I had for my own family. There were nearly a thousand rounds of .223 for each of these rifles. These guns were not divided up but remained with the families.

With multiple magazines that held 30 rounds each, it was obvious that the AR-15s had a great advantage in the event of a mass attack, something that was imminent.

Between Dan, the Bishop, and myself we had reviewed all the men who would be fighting beside us. Those that we considered to have the most backbone we divided up so that each emplacement would have one.

175

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

These were made captains of five. They each chose the four other men they wanted in the trench with them. Naturally, the captains who were fathers chose their sons to be with them. Dan and the Bishop each took an emplacement as well as being captains over five other emplacements. It would take starvation and anger to drive a people to come against such a stronghold.

Sitting our horses atop the rim with the morning sun in our faces, I looked over my little valley. I was bound to this place. It was my heritage, it was the land of my forefathers, it was my home. Without the right and control of property there was no freedom. Here I would live free or die. I would not be the first in my family to die in a last stand for freedom. I thought of the Bonhams who had fought for the liberation of Texas and the one who had died at the Alamo. This was our Alamo; this was our "line in the sand." We would soon be surrounded by those who hated us with no backdoor for our escape. My prayer was that our success would be better than the Alamo's. At four-to-one, our odds were better than what they had, so I had hope.

I told Dan that Sandy and I were going to ride out and cut for tracks of any enemy reconnaissance that may have come to spy out the ranch. With that, I led out riding south. We rode through the hills and deep gullies that were covered with thick pinions and cedars. For an hour we rode till we met the ledge of the Glendale Bench curving to the southeast. We then rode along the top of the sheer ledge for another twenty minutes till we came to a gnarled cedar tree clinging to the lip of the ledge. It was large and very old with only a few limbs that had enough life to give forth green foliage. At the base of the tree were three smooth stones the size of a watermelon.

Drawing rein at the tree, I asked Sandy, "What do you see here?"

She looked around at the vast expanse of the land that lay below the bench. She then looked at the sandy ground, the old tree, and then the stones.

"Those stones are out of place. This is sandstone country and those are hard rocks from a riverbed."

"That's right and I noticed the same thing when I found them thirty-five years ago as a kid. They had been placed here years ago by the ancient Indians. For several years after I found them I would ride by, stop, and ask the question: Why would someone make the effort to haul these heavy stones from some riverbed up to this point? Then one day, as I stood on the edge, I noticed a faint toe-hold chipped into the face of the ledge below. If you lie on your belly and look over the edge, you will see more of them going down. Do you want to see for yourself?" I asked.

176

HOPES AND DREAMS

Sandy cocked her head slightly and raised an eyebrow, "It's a long way to the bottom of that ledge."

"It is. I call this Poison Pointe."

"Poison Pointe? Why call it Poison Pointe?" she asked

"Because one drop and it will kill you," I laughed at my own joke.

She did not laugh so I asked again, "Are you game?"

With a smile, she rose to the mild dare and dismounted. I held the reins of her horse as she shimmied out to the ledge. The closer she got to the edge the lower she got to the ground until she was scooting on her belly. A chuckle escaped me as I watched. I knew how unnerving it was to look over such an enormous drop.

"I see them," she called out. "But they're not so faint. They look pretty good."

"They are," I replied. "I re-chipped them myself. You want to go

"You must be insane. Make a slip and you will fall forever, or as you put it, "'one drop will kill you."'

'That it could," I answered. "What if I tied a rope to you?"

Sandy scooted back from the ledge then kneeled up.

"That's still insane." Then looking at me, she asked, "You're serious, aren't you?"

I now dismounted my roan and tied both horses to the tree. Then I took the lariats from off the saddles. The first I tied to a massive branch of the tree. The second lariat I tied to the first. That gave me about sixty feet of rope.

"This is just enough rope to get there."

"Get where?" She asked looking a little more worried.

"To what is at the end of those hand and toe-holds."

Walking over, I knelt beside her, "Do you trust me?" I asked

177

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

She remained kneeling with her hands on her thighs. Her face was not far from mine and for a full minute she remained there studying me. I could see her mind weighing me in the balance.

"I trust you," was her reply. She made no preconditions, no recommendations and no requirements.

I slipped the rope around her waist and tied it with a bowline knot. I then pulled the loop over her chest and under her arms. Stepping to the tree I took a dally around the stout limb with the loose portion of the rope. The woman was indeed game and was putting her life in my hands. Without another word she went over the edge as I let the rope out. She disappeared, and keeping tension on the rope, I continued to let it out. All sixty feet were let out before the rope went slack. She had made it to the thin edge that could be seen at the end of the hand and toe-holds.

"Untie the rope," I called out, "and I'll come down."

Without tying a rope to myself, I went over the ledge feeling for the hand and toe-holds. Going over without a lifeline always made me feel that life was on the edge and indeed it was.

I soon descended to the thin edge which allowed one to step to the right and into the mouth of a large cave. Sandy was leaning against the wall of the cave smiling. The cave went back about fifty feet with the roof ranging from fifteen feet high at the front to ten feet high at the back. At the back of the cave were the rock walls Of an Indian dwelling. The sheltered walls of the ruins were intact. There were three doors and five rooms. In front of the first door was a large metate for grinding grain.

The rock was worn deep from much use and a large grinding stone sat in the center of it. It sat there just as its owner had left it so many hundreds of years ago. There was an ancient peaceful feeling to the place. Whenever I come here, I tread with respect for those who had lived here before. This had been a place of defense and refuge. Now, more than ever before, I could relate to them.

Taking Sandy's hand, I led her back to the rooms. Each of the rooms were small, ranging from seven to eight feet square. Against the far wall of the first room was a large Indian pot about two feet in diameter. It was grey in color and rounded up to a small mouth. Next to the large cooking pot were several other smaller pots. I picked up one and handed it to Sandy. It was a beautiful one made of red clay with fine black lines decorating its sides.

178

HOPES AND DREAMS

"This is simply wonderful," she said as she turned the pot in her hand. I was enjoying sharing this place with her.

"Could these have belonged to some of your people?" I asked

"I don't know. Maybe."

I led her to the next room and this room had nothing ancient in it. It was filled with large tin cans containing wheat, rice, and other grains.

There were tin cans that contained shortening sitting aside other containers filled with supplies. Leaning against the wall next to the door was a hard plastic rifle box. This I picked up as we left the room. At the very back of the cave was a seep of water that trickled into a bowl chipped into the rock floor of the cave. I stooped down. With my hand I swept out the water and wet sand that had accumulated in the bowl.

I led Sandy back to the mouth of the cave. Close to the edge there were two stacks of flat stones. The stacks were about five feet apart and two feet high. Facing each other, we sat upon them. It was plain to see that the Indians had placed them here for this very purpose. The vast vista lay open to the south. The towns of Kanab and Fredonia could be seen in the distance from this lofty perch.

I opened the rifle case to a Colt AR-15 inside. It was mounted with a Night Force scope. There was a gun cleaning kit with some Remington gun oil. I screwed the cleaning rods together and then broke the rifle down. I cleaned and oiled it thoroughly while Sandy looked on silently. When I was done, I re-assembled the gun and closed it back in the case. We sat there quietly for a while till Sandy broke the silence, "How many people know of this place?"

"You mean besides you and me?" I asked

"Yes."

"None," I answered.

"You've taken no one else to this place before?" She said with raised eyebrows.

"Not even my own children. It is my own special place," I replied.

She turned to look again at the beauty of the land that lay before us and said. "This is a good land. A land made for raising strong children."

179

ONLY BY BLOOD AND SUFFERING

With that she fell silent again and a distant, wistful, look came upon her face. Time passed and I said nothing, reading her face and the emotions that were written there.

I could discern much of what I saw. This was a woman who had hopes and dreams of her own and I recognized those dreams for they were the dreams of my youth—the dreams that a person has Of finding someone to love, of raising a family, of building a life of happiness. Those dreams were as old as time itself.

At length, her black eyelashes blinked twice and she mentally drew herself back to the present. Rising from her seat, she came and knelt before me. With her knees resting on the sandy floor of the cave, she crossed her arms on my thighs and laid her head upon them. Her face was turned to the open expanse. I gently stroked her silky black hair, enjoying the quiet closeness of the woman. In this moment there was no rush, no pressure, no urgency.

She spoke again. "Jake?"

It was the first time she had called me by my name.

"Jake, you are a good man. You are a good father. You have a good family. I want what you have. I want you."

I said nothing as hundreds of thoughts flowed through my mind, Her words were gracious and full of yearning. I had been blessed with a good family and understood that desire. Her other desire I also understood.

That desire to belong to someone, to be loved, to be missed. What was to become of this woman and her dreams? I was drawn to her and the loneliness that had been so much a part of my life was eased by her presence.

But I could not guarantee even the ability to keep her alive, let alone her dreams. Her dreams, my children's dreams, within days could be cut off from the land of the living. Even if some of us survived, my chances were very slim. I knew that to the best of my ability I would stand between my family and our angry neighbors. Did she know that she was pinning her dreams on the slimmest of hope?

Slim as that hope may be, I wanted her to experience the joys that I had. To experience the joy that comes to a couple with the birth of their children. To watch those children grow, to watch them embrace the good, to taste of life for themselves.

180

HOPES AND DREAMS

Live or die, I wanted her to be able to experience the same. I did not believe that I would live to be part of her dreams. But with my life, my cows, my garden, and the defense that my ranch offered, I could increase her chances, my children's chances, the chance that they would live to raise a family in a free land.

Raising her head with both of my hands, I lightly kissed her lips and said, "Never give up hope."

181