Luther's Wars

He could sense the shock and panic as the jaws of the trap closed and came up empty.

Luther twisted the car toward the neon, feeling the tires skid under him. The headlights of his pursuers spilled out onto the field in a ragged line

One of the trucks slammed to a sudden stop, pitching forward hard before bouncing back, its lights casting spidery shadows off the hay rake it had just collided with.

Luther slowed slightly, just enough to match the speed of his hunters. He couldn't afford actually to lose them now, not after all this trouble.

They were only fifty yards back as a tooth-jarring thump announced the end of the field. He crossed onto the red river rock of a parking lot.

Slamming the car to a stop and yanking the keys, Luther threw himself out the door and sprinted past stunned couples sitting on car trunks as he made the last ten yards to the door of Bert's.

He slowed as he pushed through the door.

*****

"McCabe!"

Luther looked up calmly, placing his beer on the table and smiled almost complacently as he looked up the barrel of the revolver. "What kin I do you for there, Mister Revenue Man?"

Agent Cooper glared at him. "Get up. You're under arrest."

"Right now? It's a live band tonight. That's why so many people are hanging out in the parking lot. Kick back and have a seat."

"Get up. Now."

"You sure? They ain't half bad. Guitar is kinda middlin', but the fiddle player is damn good." Luther studied on him for a moment. "Nice suit, but you got a little somethin' on your pant leg."

The agent looked down at the mud coating him up to his waist, then glared at him. "Just get up. Let's go."

"Where we goin'?"

"You're going to prison."

"Seems a stretch. I mean, I'm probably guilty of somethin'. After all, I am a..." He paused and looked to his left. "What was it Miss Wilson called me in fourth grade, Jeb?"

The sheriff turned in his chair and sighed. "She called you an 'unrepentant reprobate.' I think that was right after you put that blacksnake in her desk."

Luther nodded. "That's fair. But I don't think they can put me in prison for that. Even if they could, I'd think the statute of limitations for that has to have run out by now, right?"

The revenue agent reddened. "Illegal distillation of unlicensed alcohol, illegal transportation. I know you have a load of whiskey in your car."

Luther raised his eyebrows. "That sounds awful serious there, Chief. We better go take us a look."

He stood up slowly and looked over the packed tables. "Hey, y'all! Mister Revenue Man here says I'm 'bout to go to the big house fer makin' and sellin' il-legal likker. Says I got a load in my car right now."

Laughter rose all around for a moment, and Luther held his hand up. "Now, don't be like that, the man here's jest tryin' to do his duty. Y'all oughta come on out and watch."

As the crowd stood up and began to push out the door to the parking lot, Luther looked at the sheriff. "You should probably come on out with us, Jeb. Be all official-like and everything."

Jeb stood up and dropped his jacket on the back of his chair. "You owe me a beer anyway. Can't risk you running off."

The crowd had already formed a thick circle around the Coronet. Two pickup trucks were parked just off the front and rear of it.

Luther held his keys out to the revenue agent. "Windows are expensive; you can use my keys."

Agent Cooper snatched them out of his hand wordlessly and began opening doors.

"Hey, Mister Revenue man? Who are your friends here?" Luther gestured at the two trucks. "They ain't from around here. And I'll bet my ass that big ol' boy over there ain't never been to any kind of police academy. Matter a fact, I think I remember him from those 'Tough Man' competitions four or five years ago. Never took first but always did alright. 'Duke' somethin'-or-other. Rumor had it, he worked for Big Bill up around Jeff City."

The agent ignored the question. The car was almost completely empty. Even the back seat was gone. He snorted. "You had to reduce the weight for the load, didn't you?"

He shook his head and walked to the trunk, jabbing the key and popping it open. "There it is. Six cases."

Jeb looked over at Luther, obvious puzzlement on his face. "Six cases would hardly be worth making a run."

"It will be worth some time in prison. More than you think."

Luther frowned. "For six cases of jars?"

Pausing, the agent looked back down into the trunk, then pulled the top off a case.

"Empty jars?" He looked back up at Luther.

"Getting' on to applesauce season, you know. Gotta be prepared."

The crowd around them began to snicker. Face darkening, the agent yanked the top off another case. "Dammit!"

"Now don't you go getting' yerself stirred up; we all make mistakes, you know?" Luther took a small step back, hands carefully held up in front of him.

The sheriff shifted his attention to Luther, eyeing him suspiciously. His eyes narrowed as Luther took yet another step back. "Awww...Shit!"

He held his hand up. "Wait..."

Before the sheriff could say another word, the agent yanked another case open. His face froze in abject horror, and he staggered a half step back, throwing his arm up to shield his face.

The crowd exploded outward in a single prolonged howl of shrieking laughter.

A sickening wave of overwhelming skunk spray stench rolled out.

The agent staggered back, shaking his head spastically while he retched. Luther and Jeb skipped back from the car, trying to get clear of the reek. A fraction of a second later, they dove for cover as they saw the cold gleam of metal in the agent's hand.

The deafening thunder and the brilliant lightning strobes as the agent emptied his heavy revolver into the trunk pushed the crowd back at top speed.

As the revolver snapped empty and the echoes died away, both Luther and Jeb checked themselves over then stared at each other as the agent gagged and leaned over, trying to wipe his eyes clear.

A small black and white shape hopped out of the trunk and walked unhurriedly past the agent. The stunned crowd opened up to let the creature pass.

Jeb looked around. "Anyone hit?"

The minor miracle of no injuries allowed the sheriff to focus on the agent. "You done making an ass of yourself, Agent Cooper?"

The agent stared at him for a long moment, then looked at Luther. "This isn't over McCabe."

"Damn straight, asshole. Ain't over by a long shot." Luther's affable mask was gone. "But it's gonna be real hard to pull off that 'shot while resisting arrest' bullshit now, isn't it? What with all the witnesses to this."

The sheriff glanced between them. "I'll be filing an official complaint with your agency." He eyed the agent, then looked at Luther. "I think we're done here."

"Naw. Jeb, I think you gotta arrest me for something.'" Luther shook his head slowly. "Make this all a matter a public record. You know?"

A slow chuckle broke from the Sheriff. "You may be an asshole, Luther, but you aren't stupid. Criminal mischief."

"Criminal mischief."

*****

Saint Louis

*****

Flora carefully pulled her pickup truck into the alley, slowing to a stop next to the ancient loading dock.

An aging, balding black man slowly got up from a faded folding lawn chair and studied on her for a moment. "I'm thinkin' you ladies just might have made a wrong turn here, ma'am."

Flora glanced at Irene before answering. "We may have. We've never been here before. We're looking for 'Chappie.' We have a delivery."

The man grinned, a smile of ivory and gold stark against his dark skin, then shook his head slowly. "You sound like a schoolteacher. I got no idea what you might have for Chappie."

Flora answered with a perfectly pleasant, perfectly calm smile. "We have a shipment from Luther McCabe."

The man looked at her for a long moment then peered at the boxes in the bed of the truck. "Is this a truckload of McCabe's Finest?"

"I believe it is."

"Then I believe you may be in the right place, Ma'am. My name is Titus Washington, and I'd like to invite you to come inside our establishment for a bit while we settle your account."

It was almost three hours before Irene and Flora headed out with a shoebox of cash, several containers of the best damn whole-hog barbeque in Saint Louis, and a standing invitation to park at the loading dock anytime they damned well pleased.

A grinning Titus sat heavily back in his lawn chair, shaking a slightly foggy head and laughing to himself. Even Irene had imbibed enough "samples" to actually become outright giggly. As he watched them pull away, he saw Irene whisper something into Flora's ear in a low husky voice. Flora blushed but suddenly seemed in an awful hurry to get home.

*****

Luther walked quietly into Ryan's garage and patiently waited for him to slide out from under the truck he was working on.

Ryan grinned as he stood. "Told you she was in good shape, heard you ran that revenuer all over the county--"

Luther's hammer-fist blow to his solar plexus dropped Ryan to his knees. "When did it start, you piece of shit?"

Gasping for air, Ryan wheezed. "I don't know what..."

Snatching Ryan's hair in one hand, Luther slammed his fist into the side of Ryan's head, making sure to catch his ear. "They were waiting for me on Old River Road. Nobody would think to wait there. Nobody knows about that route. Nobody ever knew that route, especially some god-damn city-born revenuer. But you did. Darryl took you out there to put his load in your truck when his car broke down just before I was drafted. You knew."

Luther slammed another blow into Ryan's mouth. "I'm gonna keep asking the same question 'til I get a fuckin' answer. When did it start?"

It took two more times; Ryan was only still up on his knees because of Luther's iron grip in his hair.

"A year ago. A goddam year. He was gonna put me in prison. Sissy'd just had the baby and he was gonna put me in prison." Thick droplets of blood spattered on the concrete floor and sat dark and dead.

"You told them where the stills were? When runs were being made?"

Ryan nodded shakily. "I figured they'd just push everyone a little, didn't think they'd do what they did."

"They killed Darryl." The name was punctuated by a tooth-cracking punch to Ryan's face.

"They killed Bobby. And Custis." Luther turned toward the deathly quiet voice as Mattie walked in, pulling a horrified Sissy in after her.

Ryan didn't raise his eyes from the floor. Luther yanked his head up to face Sissy. "Tell her Ryan, tell her why you did it."

Closing his eyes, Ryan spit the blood from his mouth. "That revenue agent caught me out on Big Bend."

Sissy weakly tried to pull from Mattie's steel-band grip. "Ryan..."

Her husband looked up at her mutely.

"A load of 'shine? That'd be a fine, maybe sixty or ninety days in jail at most. Not prison." Luther studied Ryan for a moment, eyes narrowed. "What were you carrying?"

Ryan dropped his eyes back to the floor. "I had a load of H for Big Bill."

"Heroin? What the fuck were you thinkin'?" Luther shoved Ryan as he let go, letting him crumple to the floor.

Mattie let go of Sissy, then watched as she scrambled, falling to her knees, and pulled his head up to her chest, leaving a broad stark smear of blood across her white t-shirt. Mattie stepped over to Luther and softly clasped his arm.

Luther relaxed a little. "What about it, Ryan. Why were you carrying smack?"

Ryan took a moment before answering. "I needed the money. The lift here broke down, plumbing at the house gave out. A bunch of little shit, but just too much little shit going wrong all at one time. Then the hospital bill for the baby... When Bill's guys offered me a good deal to carry it to Saint Louis..." He turned his face away, coughing a spray of fresh blood onto Sissy's leg.

The garage was silent for a long moment.

"Please don't kill him." Sissy looked up at Mattie, a plea for support. Everyone knew asking a McCabe for mercy was as ridiculous as asking a storm to stop. "My little girl needs a Daddy."

"My baby needed a Daddy too..." Mattie closed her eyes for a long moment. She opened them and looked at Luther before going on. "He needs to leave. Get far the fuck away. Never come 'round here again."

"Nebraska." Tears tracked steadily down Sissy's face. "Is that far enough? I have a cousin there."

Luther looked into Mattie's eyes for a moment that lasted forever, saw her tiny nod, then looked down at Sissy. "Nebraska is far enough."

"Thank you." Sissy cradled Ryan's head, her tears dropping and streaking the blood on his face.

Mattie started to pull Luther toward the door, but he stopped abruptly and looked back. He shook his head. "It was a set-up; you figure that out?"

Ryan twisted his head slowly in Sissy's grip. "What?"

"That revenuer? Agent Kevin Cooper. And Big Bill. Big Bill...Cooper. You know that, right?"

Ryan stared mutely.

"Fuckin' idiot, no way they'd have taken it to court."

The door closed as Luther and Mattie walked out.

Just as Mattie slid into the truck, Sissy ran up and pushed a bundle of papers into her hands. "Ryan wrote down everything he knows about them... Sorta insurance, you know."

The two women looked into each other's eyes wordlessly for an eternity.

Mattie gave a single nod, barely able to control the tears; the hopeless shine of tears in Sissy's eyes mirrored her own.

*****

Mattie pulled a plate from the suds and began to scrub it gently; she could feel Flora and Irene watching her.

"You and Luther seem rather compatible." Flora's voice was soft but clear, and the unspoken question hung in the air.

Flushing, Mattie scrubbed a little harder. "We got our reasons to work together."

"That's not what I'm talking about."

"I'm carryin' Custis' baby; why'd any man wanna be caught up in that?"

"I'd think you can let Luther decide for himself."

The soap covered plate almost slipped from Mattie's grip as she tried to scrub even harder. "Anyhow, he's a McCabe. An' McCabes and Parkers have a lotta bad memories 'bout each other."

"That doesn't matter. You know, Irene and I weren't exactly friends to start off."

Irene made a soft sound that Mattie couldn't make out. She let the plate slip back under the water and turned to look at the pair. "Really?"

Flora looked up at the ceiling with a tightly held smile, eyes sparkling. "What was it you called me, dear? A 'trollop,' wasn't that it?"

"I didn't call you anything. I said you were acting like a trollop." Irene's voice was serious, but the glint of humor and affection betrayed her as she looked at Flora.

Flora shook her head, almost glowing at the memory. "We were assigned to be roommates in college. It took a little while to...understand each other, but once we did..."

"Y'all's families ain't spent near on a hundred years tryin' to kill each other off." Mattie stared down into the water, catching glimpses of herself in it.

"Don't dwell on that." Flora raised one eyebrow. "Let the past worry about the past. Right now, we need to make sure you stay safe."

Silence hung in the room for a long moment, then Mattie sighed. "Luther said he's headed down to the Carolinas for a bit, maybe a week or two. He said maybe with people talking about us bein' seen together, it might be a good idea for me to go somewhere...and maybe I could go with him."

Flora suppressed a quirk of a smile. "That sounds safe. Maybe you should go."

"What about you? Fixin' to be a lot of trouble hereabouts, an' people know I been stayin' here."

Irene nodded. "Flora and I talked about that. We've both put in for time off. The Shannon boy, Chris, is going to come over and feed the chickens for us while we're gone."

"We're going to be visiting Mount Rushmore." Flora's eyes twinkled with mischief.

*****

Near Fayetteville, North Carolina

*****

Mattie stared out the hotel window at the rain and the darkening sky, reaching up to press her fingertips against the cold hard glass for a moment. "It ever stop rainin' here?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes it feels like it'll never rain again." Luther dropped his duffle bag to the floor and stepped up next to her. "You doin' okay?"

She shrugged slowly. "I feel...I don't know. Lost. Maybe."

"The baby doin' okay?"

"Baby's doin' fine." She watched the rain. "Kickin' a bit, but that's probably because Custis always liked the rain..."

She closed her eyes for a moment. "Custis and me, we weren't in love or anything. But when I found out I was expectin' he...well, me an' him went to the justice of the peace and got married, but they got him that night."

"I'm..."

"Sorry. I know. But you didn't have nothin' to do with any of it. I never even told my family. I had my back all up by then."

"We'll figure this out, Mattie."

Her jaw muscle twitched. "I hate that. My name. Matilda. Sounds like an old lady, and 'Mattie' sounds like a boy. Get enough grief for lookin' like a boy."

Luther chuckled and reached out to touch her swollen stomach with his fingertips. "Can't really see how you could be mistaken for a boy."

"You've only ever seen me pregnant. Big old stomach and..." She glanced down at her chest and flushed red, then fell silent.

For a long moment, the silence just hung over the room.

"You know, I've always thought Mae was a pretty name." Luther cocked his head. "Doesn't sound like a boy's name at all. It makes me think of flowers, and I think it kinda fits you."

He hadn't pulled his hand away from her stomach; she felt the warmth of his palm and realized she didn't want him to pull away.

"Mae..." she said it softly, feeling the sound of it. "I like that."

Mae shifted and let herself lean up against him, feeling his other arm move around her.

*****

Sledgehammer Mission Support Base HEAVY DROP, Republic of Vietnam

Squelch leaned back against the sandbag-reinforced wall of the bunker. "Hey, Estrada, have a thumper." He held up a cup made from a 40MM grenade shell.

Jorge Estrada took a long sip and blew out his breath with a low whistle. "Holy shit. I haven't had anything that good since I left the World. Maybe not even then."

Specialist Washington grinned and pointed at McCabe. "My man there is workin' some kind of voodoo bullshit. Seems a bunch of cases of canned corn fell off that Navy supply truck. And about 600 pounds of cornmeal disappeared from the mess hall."

"Snake, you are a fuckin' National Treasure." Estrada took another sip of the corn liquor and closed his eyes for a long moment. "We need to get a couple bottles of this to the captain."

Corporal McCabe grinned. "Already have a case set aside, Sarn't. That way, he can share it with that asshole major in Plans, so maybe we don't get fucked over again."

The humor in Corporal McCabe's voice evaporated even as he finished his statement.

Estrada nodded. "I'll make sure the captain knows."

*****

"What does that patch mean, that L-R-R-P.?" Mae nestled her bare back against Luther's chest and pointed at a triangular patch on the duffle bag in the chair next to the bed.

"They say it 'lurp.' Long Range Reconnaissance Patrol. 82nd Airborne."

She traced a finger along to an inverted triangle patch. "What does 'Recondo' mean?"

"It's short for 'Reconnaissance Commando.' It's a special school for long-range patrolling."

"Patrolling?"

"Creeping around in enemy territory, setting ambushes and starting fights."

She turned her head to look up at him, studied him searchingly and pursed her lips. "Sounds like a McCabe sorta thing."

Luther nodded slowly. "It kinda is."

"That big ol' purple bowie knife you always stick in your boot says 'Recondo' too, doesn't it?"