Chapter 9
One of the first things that the patrols sent out found when they crossed the St. Regis River and into Superior proper, were the posters. Also found was evidence that people were still in town, even though no services remained.
Carefully, slowly, the patrol made it's was through the town. They easily avoided most of the remaining inhabitants. That was because the few inhabitants remaining were trying to avoid them also.
Several hours walk brought them to a road that had been cleared of snow. They had followed tracks worn into the snow, and now they came to a totally clear road. The patrol conferred and came to an agreement. They sought and found a building that was checked thoroughly and they settled into it.
They broke out MREs and ate dinner while maintaining watch. At precisely 1800 local time, they got on the radio for a check and report. Since they were talking to a relay station, they had to wait for confirmation and new instructions. Shortly it came. Watch. Wait. Report every 2 hours. The patrol settled in for an extended stay.
At the lodge, Greg read the radio operators report with incredulity. Was it possible? Could Myron Litchfield be responsible for the death of his soldier? He continued to read then re-read the report to make sure he had it right. He read the purported poster again:
BY ORDER OF COL. MYRON LITCHFIELD
COMMANDER MONTANA MILITIADuring this state of emergency it is ordered that no citizen may appear in public armed. Violation of this order is punishable by death. Compliance to any order given by a militia member is mandatory. Disobedience to this order is punishable by death. Citizens will report to the headquarters for work assignments for the betterment of the remaining population.
It had been signed by Myron Litchfield. Greg pondered what he read. It was possible that the death of his soldier was solely the responsibility of this idiot. He glanced at it again, noting that this Militia headquarters was the Litchfield ranch.
Greg sent a runner to find Sgt. Ballerton and Lt. Preston. He had a lot to discuss with them. He also got on his cell phone and contacted his brother. He passed his request to his brother and got confirmation just as Ballerton and Preston showed up.
Greg gave the report to Lt. Preston to read, who then passed it to Ballerton. After both had read it he asked for comments.
"First of all, do we know who this Litchfield is, sir?" Sgt. Ballerton asked.
"We do. I know of him, and have even met him a few times. He is or was a very wealthy and influential cattle rancher. His family moved here during the late 1800's and settled in as ranchers. They did well. He is the last of the Litchfield's. He was honored a few years ago by the governor of the state for political contributions with the rank of Col. in the state militia.
"He was a pompous arrogant asshole that expected everyone to defer to him, when I knew him. He had read a couple of my books, and thought I should do a book on him and his family. He ran for state assemblymen a few times, but was defeated. He ran for county sheriff twice and was defeated there also. He had delusions of being a statesmen. This message or poster that the patrol has found is confirmation, to me anyway, that he has flipped.
"I am almost convinced that the death of our soldier can be laid at his doorstep. This man has to be reigned in and reigned in now. He obviously has people working for him. What we need to do is find out how many. How are they armed? What their defenses are like?" Greg ended.
"If this man is as dangerous as you say, we might have a problem with him then. He might not like anyone else with authority stepping into his little kingdom." the Lt. Said sourly.
Greg nodded and outlined what he had been thinking of. Both the Lt. and Sgt thought it had merit and was worth a shot. They grinned at some of what Greg had come up with.
"It's a gutsy move sir." Sgt. Ballerton said admiringly.
Myron Litchfield was the product of a privileged up bringing. His grandfather and father had taken the Litchfield fortune and doubled it. Myron felt no need to do anything or change anything. Investments kept money coming in at an incredible rate, or had before the disaster.
One thing he could thank his father for, was his preparedness for the disaster. His father had been a prime believer of the, "Think of the worst case scenario, double it, then you prepare for that, and you might survive the result."
Myron had bought heavily into grain and feed. He increased the chickens at his ranch by an entire 100 so that he had had to build another chicken coup for them. He had 4 new grain silos erected to hold the grain he had purchased.
He had had a huge diesel generator installed at his ranch to cover all the power needs in the event of a prolonged power failure. Since part of his cattle ranch was his dairy herd, he was making sure that his equipment was usable.
The disaster was worse than he imagined. Flooding and rain had destroyed all of his ground feed. Growing fields of feed had died off. However his barns were packed to bursting with feed hay and the additional silos would see him through to the spring easily. He would only have to thin the herd by about 300 head.
At first, workers had asked to move family members out to the ranch so they would be safe. He had agreed. But as the rains continued, people showed up, begging for food and a place to stay. Superior had flooded.
Things were bad. However, he had meat to eat in abundance, eggs, and due to the harsh winters, he had stocked up his larder with enough food to last himself and his ranch hands, all 52 of them well into the spring.
However, with the influx of new people coming and staying, he decided something had to be done. He was in his office when his eye had gone to the certificate he had received from the governor making him a Colonel in the State Militia.
That's when it hit him. This was an emergency. Local authorities had been overwhelmed. Contact had been lost with State officials and the Federal government. By god, he was bound to take up command, and do something about this mess! Of course, why hadn't he seen it before?
And so it was, that Myron Litchfield, Colonel of the State militia took a hand in combating the disaster as he saw fit. Having read a few books on what had happened during WWI and WWII he felt justified in his harsh dictums; for the peoples safety and own good of course. It also dovetailed in neatly with the need to feed his growing army. He plundered the local markets for canned goods. He confiscated tractor trailer trucks of fuel, both diesel and regular gas.
He had a few run-ins with local law enforcement, and he won, usually by having the officials killed. After all, he was a Colonel, and they were blocking his ability to perform his job. He never realized that he had crossed the line between authorized servant of the state, and criminal. His mind did not allow for anything other than, he was always in the right. He never even realized he had contributed to the failure and downfall of the local government during the disaster.
In space, Steve and Jessica were working to gather the information that Greg wanted. This required a satellite aimed in the correct direction and photos taken. They also did real time video for later transfer to Greg at his home.
"When are we going back home, uncle Steve? I miss dad." Jessica said.
"Soon. We need to make sure we have a ride home after we land. Also, think. We have been in space for well over a month. Whether you believe it or not, your muscles have atrophied. Despite your exercising, when we hit the earth, we will be weak!" Steve said very forcefully.
"Is daddy going to be alright? I remember him talking about Mr. Litchfield. He didn't have anything good to say about him." Jessica said, worrying at a strand of hair.
"Oh, I think with what we are doing for your dad, old Myron won't dare make any overt moves against your dad. We have a couple aces up our sleeve." Steve said with a wink.
Lt. Preston just finished printing out the photos that the space station had transmitted. The video had already been downloaded and copies made. Everything was almost ready. Twice Sgt. Ballerton had replaced the 4 man scout team that had been inserted into Superior. All teams spent at least three days doing recon, and keeping watch and recording movements of vehicles and people.
Greg looked at the flyer he had had printed up. It was an open letter to Myron Litchfield, but with a twist. He read it again;
ATTENTION TO ORDERS
To Myron Litchfield Colonel, Militia Mont.
As the ranking military representative for the US Government, I am issuing a cease and desist order Effective immediately. Furthermore, one of my soldiers was killed by a sniper that appears to have come from one of your men.
The federal Government takes precedence during this emergency, and while we applaud your effort to keep order in this district, the Federal Government has now taken an active interest in this, and has placed Brigadier General Greg Baron, District commander, in charge of the district as of now. The district runs from just north of the Ranger remount station, south 100 miles, and east from the top of Hoodoo Pass to 100 miles east. Your cooperation is requested and required in support of this mission. A copy of the orders for this is available by video log from Cheyenne Mountain, Military Command. Written orders have been sent via satellite and can be seen upon request.
What followed was the photo copy of the commanding general of Cheyenne Mountain signature, right under the president's signature. Also was an order promoting Greg Baron to the rank of Brigadier General. Greg had been surprised at this, but when he thought about it, it made sense. Myron would kick and scream if a mere Major took over from him. A general, now that was a whole different ballgame. This would definitely put a stop to Myron's excesses.
"Ok, we need to post as many copies of this as possible in town.
It's also time to clear the road from here down to Superior. Let's get
those snow plows going. It's time we took charge of this situation, and
brought some semblance of order back to this area!" Greg exclaimed.