Unhappily Ever After B. 02

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

As was the case with Book One, Book Two of Unhappily Ever After

is a long, novel-length story that recounts the trials and tribulations experienced by a veteran who returns to civilian life and pursues a career path begun before joining the Australian Defence Force. He is forced to resurrect his 'stay alive' skills when he is betrayed by his wife, whose lover puts a hit order out on him.

Book Two picks up Stoney Bourke's life after he had been ambushed and critically wounded during what he hopes will be the final assassination attempt. Despite having witnessed the demise of his would-be killer, he knows there are others out there who want to hang his scalp on their belts.

---oooBJSooo---

I apologise for the time it has taken to get the second book in this duology finished but life and near death have a way of interfering with the best of our intentions. As so much time had elapsed between Book One and Book Two by the time I got back to it, I decided to do a full rewrite.

Although many of the points raised in the readers' comments from Book One had already been addressed in Book Two, a few additional things were brought to my attention that I thought were valid. Hopefully, I have addressed those points in the rewrite.

In an attempt to please as many readers as possible, I have left a few typos and technical and procedural errors in Book Two of Unhappily Ever After to satisfy the nit-pickers.

As each book tells its own story, I'd recommend reading Book One first to familiarise yourself with the backstory and the characters. Despite Book Two containing chapters that could be posted under different category headings, I have posted all ten chapters under Loving Wives for the sake of continuity.

Like Book One, Book Two will be posted in seven parts, all of which have been submitted simultaneously, with a request to the moderator that they be published on consecutive days.

I trust you will enjoy my offering, but I will be happy to receive your comments either way. It should be noted, however, that I have blocked anonymous comments. I know that might inconvenience a few readers, but my philosophy is that 'better one commenter be inconvenienced than ten trolls be allowed to spew their vitriol'.

---oooBJSooo---

Please Note:

The right of Black Jack Steele to be identified as the author of this work - Unhappily Ever After - Book Two - is asserted under worldwide copyright laws. All rights are reserved.

---oooBJSooo---

UNHAPPILY EVER AFTER

BOOK TWO

Copyright © Black Jack Steele 2024

CHAPTER EIGHT

September 11, 2021 - January 01, 2023

Road To Damascus

When fixing the locks to the gates of Warragunya as I set out on my journey, I knew that I was symbolically closing the door on my past. This date - September eleventh, 2021 -would mark the beginning of a new chapter. I believed that everything I experienced from here on in would set the direction for the rest of my life.

There was no longer anything holding me back. I had made all the necessary arrangements and had said my goodbyes to everyone who still held a place in my heart. I was now a thirty-nine-year-old free agent. I had my new friend with me, and we were ready for whatever the world might throw at us.

Being late in the year - and with an early wet season forecast in the north - I decided to point my truck towards the state's southwest corner. If things panned out the way I hoped they would, the big wet would be over by the time I reached the cyclone-prone areas.

Among the last items to be loaded into the truck were two of my rifles - a Winchester M94 30-30 and a Remington M700 in .223 calibre. The former would handle pigs and larger game, while the latter was fitted with a scope, making it ideal for smaller vermin animals such as goats.

The third weapon I'd loaded was the 'lost' Glock 17; the one that hadn't been recovered after it was stolen by Manyweather. It was the one I'd had with me when he and Charlie ambushed me at the farm gate almost four years earlier and was hidden away - along with the suppressor and two spare magazines - in the drop-down hidey-hole I'd fitted to the Ford not long after I'd bought it. The only time it came out was when I was camped in an isolated location. As I'd been warned by Mike Slade, too many people had gone missing over the years in the area I planned to cover for me to be complacent when camping alone. On those occasions, the Glock sat in its holster and slept in the swag with me.

The only other things I'd done to help smooth the trail ahead of us were to load up a special travel account with ten thousand dollars - of course, I could access more if I needed it - and register Digger as a Veteran's Companion Animal. The ten thousand dollars was fall-back money, just in case my plan to make a living from providing handyman services didn't work out. The companion animal registration would allow me to take Digger into places that wouldn't normally allow dogs; places like cafes, shops and pubs.

My new friend had proven to be a quick study, and he continually surprised me with his intelligence. It had only taken a few days to house-train him, for example, and he had learned most of the basic commands - sit, heel, stay, drop, come behind - long before we'd departed.

His thinking ability came to the fore when, after we'd been on the road for a couple of weeks, we'd set up camp beside a river in the southwest of the state. Because I could access everything I needed without having to unwrap the sleeping unit when we were only stopping for a night or two, I'd sleep in my swag beside the truck. I found it calming to be able to look up at the stars as I lay in my bed at night. Digger had developed the habit of sleeping under the vehicle near my head on such occasions.

This was our second night in this particular camp, and I'd caught a couple of nice golden perch for dinner. After we'd both enjoyed a meal of freshly caught fish, I'd read for a while before turning in. I don't know how long I'd been asleep when I was woken by Digger's quiet growl. Whispering to him to stay put, I grabbed my Glock and rolled out of my bedroll before slipping my feet into a pair of soft moccasins and disappearing into the bush to find out what had disturbed him.

Sure enough, we had a visitor. I let him - a natural assumption - rummage around in the trailer for a few minutes to ensure he was alone before doing what the idiots in the movies always do. After silently sliding the breach back to empty the chamber, I made a production of loudly sliding it backwards and forwards to load the next round. That caught my visitor's attention.

"Who are you, and what do you want?" I demanded from my position in the shadows.

"Please don't shoot me," a youngish-sounding female voice begged from where she stood at the back of the trailer. "I wasn't going to steal anything. I was just looking for something to eat. I haven't had anything for a couple of days."

"Reach up above your head and switch on the light," I ordered. "I like to see who's stealing my food."

What I saw was a young slip of a girl in a torn dress with bedraggled hair. Her feet were bare, and her legs were covered in cuts and scratches. She was scared and looked the part of a girl who was running for her life.

"What are you doing out here in the middle of the night?" I asked, tucking the pistol into the waistband at the back of my shorts as I walked towards her.

"I ran away from home when my uncle tried to rape me. They've been looking for me for the past two days. I've been hiding during the day and heading towards town at night. I've got to get to somewhere safe before they catch me. If they do, they'll finish what they started."

"When you say, 'they', what do you mean? I thought you said it was your uncle who tried to rape you?"

"It was," she said. "But he would only have been the first. My two cousins were standing in line to do me when he'd finished. They reckoned it was a family ritual or something. They'll be really pissed off by now. I doubt that they will have given up looking for me. Uncle Sean will probably have one of my cousins watching for me in town. The last thing they'd want me to do is to report them to the police."

"You mentioned some sort of ritual," I said. "What did you mean by that?"

"From what Uncle Sean said, it has something to do with a family tradition. It seems that it is the right of a girl's uncle to deflower his niece when she turns sixteen. I had my sixteenth birthday two days ago."

"So, where were your father and mother while all this was going on?" I asked as I moved out of the shadows and walked towards her. I watched as she backed away in fear. I assumed she thought I would do what her uncle and cousins had planned to do to her.

"Don't worry," I said. "I'm not going to harm you. You said you haven't eaten. So I'm just going to organise a meal for you.

"By the way, what is your name?"

"It's Lizzy. Lizzy Fenton," she answered.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Lizzy Fenton," I said as I dug into the cooler box to retrieve a few slices of bacon and a couple of eggs. "My name is Horseman."

While preparing the meal for Lizzy, I told Digger he could come and join us. The first thing he did when he came out from under the truck was to perform a sniffing circuit of Lizzy. He then came over to me and settled himself at my feet. Being a born and bred country girl, my guest knew better than to try to pat a dog belonging to someone else.

I'd just poured her a cup of coffee when Digger growled for a second time that night. I looked up and followed his gaze, seeing a set of headlights following the track into my campsite from the road.

"Quickly," I said to the girl. "Get yourself up into the rear cab of the truck. There's a blanket on the seat. Lie on the floor and pull it over you.

"And don't worry. I won't let them get their hands on you; assuming these are the people who are looking for you." I let out a low whistle while standing beside the door, and Digger jumped up into the truck behind her.

"Guard her," I told him. I had no idea whether he understood what I was saying but hoped he was smart enough to know we were in trouble. I was probably asking too much. He was still only a pup, after all.

After throwing on a flannelette shirt, I set my phone to record and tucked it into one of the button-down pockets.

I was standing at the back of the trailer sipping on the cup of coffee I'd prepared for Lizzy when a crew-cab Toyota Hilux truck pulled into my campsite. Two large men - one in his forties, the other in his early twenties - exited the vehicle and made their way over to where I was standing.

Both men had a couple of inches on me in height, and each of them was probably fifteen kilos heavier. Although they looked to be work fit, they both carried beer bellies. There was no doubt they were closely related.

As the older of the two walked straight towards me, the younger one started to circle around to get behind me. He obviously wanted to see what might be hidden in my truck.

"G'day," I said by way of greeting the two strangers. "Can I help you blokes?"

"That's far enough, young fella," I said as he came level with me. "I'd suggest that you go and stand beside your companion. I don't like having people behind me."

"We're looking for someone," the older man said. "A runaway girl. He just wants to have a look to see that she's not hiding in your truck."

"Do you think I'd be packing up my camp in preparation for an early start if I had a girl here with me?" I asked.

"Now, I've asked your mate to move back where I can keep an eye on him. And I've asked nicely. I might not be so polite if I have to ask a second time."

Despite my warning, the young man kept edging around me, so I slipped the Glock out of my waistband and fired a shot into the ground at his feet.

"I'll cripple you with the next one," I said, my voice remaining calm. "Now get back and stand next to your father or uncle or big brother. Although, I suppose they could be one in the same thing in this neck of the woods.

"I probably should just shoot the pair of you where you stand and dump you in the river. I'd have thought you'd know better than to walk into a man's camp without being invited." I was playing the old Western scene to the hilt. I figured Louis L'Amour would be among their favourite authors; assuming they read anything.

"The only thing holding me back," I continued, "is that I don't want to contaminate the water. I wouldn't want to spoil the fishing for the next bloke who finds this spot.

"Now, I'd suggest you jump back into your truck and go look elsewhere for your missing girl." I knew they wouldn't, of course. Even if they left, they'd return to teach me a lesson. And they'd be armed for bear.

I'd provided them with a new target. Any thoughts they might have had of finding Lizzy would be put on the back burner until they'd sorted me out.

While they walked back to their truck, I retrieved a handful of strong cable ties from the back of my truck. As I followed them, I pulled on a pair of surgical gloves I'd also collected from my mobile workshop. Then, just as they approached their vehicle, I ordered them to stop.

"I want each of you to stand in front of your truck with your hands on the bullbar and your legs spread wide," I told them. Their resistance lasted only for as long as it took for me to fire another round into the ground; this time at the older man's feet.

I then passed each of them a couple of ties and told them to put one on each wrist. Once they had complied, I gave each of them another tie and instructed them to use it to secure themselves to the bar.

After checking that they had done as instructed, I holstered the Glock and patted them down. They each carried an array of bladed weapons but no firearms. I confiscated the knives.

I found their firearms when I searched their truck. There were three Remington .308 calibre scoped hunting rifles and three handguns, all of which were .44 magnum revolvers. All the weapons were reasonably new. The number of firearms matched up with Lizzy's account of there being a father and two sons. I threw their armaments - knives and guns - into the load tray of their truck.

With the vehicle cleared of weaponry, I relocated Sean Cartwright and his son - Evan, as it turned out - securing them to the spotlight-festooned rollbar fixed to the front of the load tray. Each of my prisoners had displayed some resistance during the move, but a tickle with the toe of my soft camp shoe to the groin fixed that. It also helped keep them subdued while I removed their boots. Strangely, neither of them was wearing socks.

"So, where's the third member of your group?" I asked. "I've found three sets of firearms but only two shooters. Where's the other one?"

No answer.

I reached into the back of the truck and retrieved one of their hunting knives. Coming up behind the father, I grabbed him by the hair and, pulling his head back so I could whisper in his ear, ran the very sharp, ten-ich blade between his widely-spread legs.

"You know what they say about men with big knives," I said

sotto voce

- just loud enough for his son to also hear - but if you don't tell me what I want to know, you won't just have a little dick, you won't have any dick at all."

"We let him off at the head of the track into this campsite," the elder Cartwright answered. "If we don't come out to pick him up soon, he'll come looking for us. And then you'll regret your interference in our search for our niece." He screamed as I pulled the blade back from between his legs with perhaps a little more force than was needed to cut through his clothing. I didn't know whether the scream was caused by his fear or because I had nicked his scrotum. I didn't care either way.

I then went around to the other side of their vehicle and performed the same maneuver on the son. Having watched while I'd interrogated his father and having heard his scream, Evan was more forthcoming. From him, I learned that, as Lizzy had suspected, his older brother, Shawn, had been sent to the nearby town to keep an eye out for his ripe, young cousin.

With my two guests secured on either side of their truck, I drove it through the camp to the water's edge. I went slowly so they could keep up. Unfortunately, Sean ended up having to walk through my campfire, poor devil. Evan slipped over during the short journey and was dragged part of the way. Both of them swore that they would take vengeance on me when they were released.

Their protestations grew even louder as they watched me throw their rifles, handguns and one of their knives out into the middle of the fast-flowing river. I could understand their anger. It saddened me, too, to see those lovely rifles disappearing beneath the surface. I probably could have kept them, but I had never stolen anything in my life and wasn't about to start doing it now.

"Now," I said to them as I left them to - what was the term Alan McGregor had used? - 'reflect on their past sins'. "Your truck is perched right on the edge of the bank. The hand brake is off, and the gearshift is in neutral. The slightest movement will tip it - and you - into the river. If I were you, I'd stand very still until the cavalry arrives."

"How long is that likely to be?" Sean asked, somewhat subdued.

"That depends," I answered. "How long have you been searching for your runaway niece; the girl you wanted to rape?"

"Two days," he answered. "And it wasn't rape. It's a family tradition that the uncle gets to deflower his niece. It's been going on in our family for generations."

"Oh, that makes it all right then," I said. "Sadly, knowing the police as well as I do, I don't think

they

will see it like that. And I certainly don't think they'll see your sons joining you in what would have been a non-consensual gang rape session as acceptable, either.

"But you asked how long you'll be standing here before your rescuers arrive. I'll let someone know where to find you in two or three days. Maybe they'll find you, or maybe they won't. That will depend entirely on whether or not your truck ends up in the river... and that will depend entirely on you."

Neither of them had seen me chocking one of the front wheels with a rock... well, a large stone, really. Nor did they see me placing another rock behind the truck's rear wheel when I'd gone back to close the tailgate. Prevented as it was from moving either forward or backward, they would have to put a lot of effort into killing themselves.

They squealed a bit, though, when I walked around their truck, driving their last remaining knife into each of its tyres before it, too, joined their other weaponry.

"That's just so it doesn't roll too easily," I explained as I walked away.

After retrieving the two rounds I'd fired into the ground, I packed up my gear and, as they say in the classics, decamped from the scene.

Once we were out on the road, I invited Lizzy and Digger to join me in the front. As the girl settled into her seat and buckled up, I passed her the bacon and egg sandwich I'd made up from the meal I was preparing before we'd been interrupted.

"No coffee, I'm afraid," I said as she groaned in pleasure around her sandwich, "but I did pull a couple of bottles of water out of the icebox for you. They're in the little cooler at your feet. We'll find a spot further up the road and make a proper breakfast. I guess you'll probably want a toilet stop as well."