Black Eagle Down
by
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Fadil had eased the front of the Suburban into the edge of a very long puddle in the road caused by a seep that filled the ruts. Traffic had pushed the water further and further. Four-wheel-drive vehicles chewed this piece of road into a bog that the two-wheel-drive Suburban had no chance of negotiating. Here was Billy's chance! “I'll check it out for you,” Billy volunteered. Mustapha was not sure what he meant. Billy began to remove his shoes. “I'll go out there and you can see how deep it is. Maybe we can find a way across.” The men discussed this briefly and Mustapha let Billy ease past him to the passenger door. “We will be watching you so do not try to run,” he warned. “Not if I get a chance,” Billy thought. He tied the laces together and hung his shoes around his neck. “Damn! This water is cold!” he said to himself as he waded out into the water-filled ruts. In the middle, the water was past his knees. It didn't look good. Billy pointed to the west. “People have been driving around up there,” he called. “Want me to check it out?” More discussion. Mustapha nodded affirmatively. This park they were in was perhaps four-hundred-yards long and about one-hundred-yards wide. The road cut through the middle. As Billy worked his way west, he also angled away from the main seep so that it appeared the ground was more stable closer to the trees. Another thought bloomed. “Look!” He pointed to the very prominent peak to the east. “If we get stuck maybe the people in the fire lookout will see us and send help!” The Jihadists were really distracted now. They hadn't even noticed the lookout tower. Fadil was getting conflicting directions from Shadid and Jameel who were trying to help him back the trailer up, a task the driver had not yet mastered. Billy was weighing his chances. It was still thirty yards to the tree line and Mustapha had an M-16. The man was not taking his eyes off of the Indian, and neither was Zakir who had a boxy looking automatic weapon hanging from a strap around his neck. Probably a 9-mm, Billy thought. Everyone in the park was startled by the thuddity-thud-thud of hoof beats. Ace had taken this all in from the trees seventy yards away. “Rosie,” Ace muttered, “I'm gonna cut loose with this shotgun in a minute and I'm gonna take a calculated bet that Pat had a chance to get you used to gunfire.” Rosie only twitched her ears then went back to pointing them at the action in the park. “You ready Doze?” The dog was also intent on the scene before them. “Okay, then, let’s go!” Mustapha and his crew were initially too stunned to react as the horseman bore down upon them. They had never considered they were actually under any threat from anyone out here in the middle of nowhere. By the time they realized that this was indeed an attack it was too late. Ace angled Rosie quartering to Mustapha and cut loose with a charge of number two shot from twenty feet away. Most of the shot missed to the right but Mustapha caught one BB in the right eye and a half dozen more in the shoulder and neck. He dropped his M-16. “Get him, Doze!” Zakir was scrabbling to get his machine gun up and working when Dozer launched himself squarely into the man from a full run. The momentum carried them both out into the muddy ruts in front of the Suburban. Zakir's weapon flew out and disappeared in the muddy water. Dozer's weight pushed the terrorist completely under the muck. Mustapha was staggering around screaming while Fadil was reaching over the seat for one of the other weapons that were probably on the seat or on the floor. He came up with a pistol just as Ace poked the 12 gauge through the passenger window. Fadil got the whole load in the midsection, which released a good portion of his intestines right into his lap. Unarmed, Jameel and Sahdid stood helplessly by the back of the Suburban. Dozer guarded Zakir by baring his teeth in the man's face every time he lifted his head from the muck. Billy trotted up. “Good to see you, Uncle,” he grinned. “What took you so long?” “Business,” Ace said. “Pick up that M-16 would you. I always wanted one. And now I suppose you want to ride or are you gonna run barefoot like your ancestors?” “I think we better get the hell out of here, Uncle.” and the boy lithely vaulted up behind Ace. “Sorry Rosie!” he said to the overloaded horse. “Come on Dozer!” and they headed for the safety of the trees Once they were well inside the timber they stopped, and Billy slid off the horse and began putting his shoes on. “Do you realize how humiliating this is?” Billy asked. Before Ace could answer Billy said, “My people will never live this down if it gets out. An Indian rescued by the cavalry!” They rested for a few minutes while Ace filled Billy in on everything that had happened the last two days. “Damn, I'm really sorry to hear about Pat,” Billy said. “You know when you came riding up I never even noticed it was his horse. Those are some pretty bad dudes. You know they were gonna cut Lyle Stands’s throat until the White Bears came along. What the hell is going on?”
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About the Book
An old elk hunter has set up an isolated camp in the Big Horn Mountains of northeastern Wyoming a week ahead of the opening of rifle season for a little “quiet time” before the rest of his “family” shows up. Alois, Ace, Gronsky and his dog Dozer are sucked into events that swirl around their idyllic setting, as teams of suspicious strangers set up three camps in separate locations in the vicinity. Not only are the strangers unfriendly, they are downright hostile to anyone snooping around. Little wonder; they plan to shoot down Air Force One on its way back from Jackson Wyoming. Five Jihadists are broken out of the new prison in nearby Wesley Montana and given the equipment they believe will shoot down the president’s plane. The jihadists are purposely set up for failure. Air Force One goes down. The “home grown” Wyoming Militia, with collusion from corrupt law enforcement, wipe out the Jihadists, and the government manipulated media tells the world that the POTUS (the President of the United States) and his family are dead while those responsible have been destroyed. Ace has rescued his kidnapped Indian friend from the Jihadists and they witness the shoot-down of Air Force One and two escort fighter jets. They also witness the deployment of the president’s escape pod and the pilot ejected from one of the fighters. If things were not bad enough already, Ace, his friend, Billy Black Stone, and fighter pilot Melanie, Yaz, Yasulevicz, must protect the first family from the teams bent on finishing the job, and battle winter conditions in the mountains of northern Wyoming. Despite the snow, things really heat up during the climax of this tale.
About the Author
Mike’s maternal grandfather was a true renaissance man with an extensive and varied library of books. As soon as he could read, Mike began reading outside of school assignments, the translated Egyptian Books of the Dead, and the theories of Colonel Churchward on the lost continent of Mu, to name just a few. An interest in history did not put food on the table, so Mike did not return to college after two years of pre-forestry, his second interest. After Army basic training, Mike was retained to teach field wire techniques at Fort Leonard Wood Missouri until he returned to his National Guard Unit in Sheridan Wyoming. Mike worked as a construction lineman, a cowboy, an outfitter, a logger, a truck driver and finally settled into a real job with a rural telephone cooperative. His service area encompassed 3,500 square miles of northeastern Wyoming and southeastern Montana, and he devoted 31 years to “his people” as he liked to call the subscribers to the co-op. After retirement in 2000, Mike divided his time between several service organizations and clubs, plus lending a helping hand on his in-laws ranch where he lives with his wife Mary. Mike is a Smithsonian contributing member and also to the Gatchell Museum in Buffalo Wyoming. He is the president of the Big Horn City Historical Society, Pistol Section director of the Sheridan County Sportsman’s Association, Elks, Eagles, and American Legion member. After sharpening his pen writing 580 humor columns for the Sheridan Press, Mike decided to create a tale with a great deal of popular and local appeal, and thus, Black Eagle Down was born.