Mountain: Episode 22

Mountain: A Cautionary Tale is an alternative history covering 1936-1941. Set along the Kansas-Colorado border, it's the story of a misguided man, his star-crossed family, and an enormous public works project, gone terribly wrong. In Episode 21, Gideon Dixon took stock of his life. In today's episode, a ruthless agent chooses to follow his orders.

Episode 22. Reckoning

Kansas-Colorado Border Zone

January, 1937

When Glenn Solomon Hendrix summoned Bill Jenkins to within shouting distance of the isolated shack and ordered the veteran agent to kill the occupant, one Gideon Dixon, then burn the place down, the obedient man had nodded like an automaton. The Lord of Wolf Moon Manor had issued an unambiguous command and it was up to Jenkins to follow orders.

Agent Jenkins watched everyone drive away, the Old Man and Petterson in their limousine and young Dobson in his sedan. The utility truck, which Jenkins was instructed to drive back to the Mountain, was left behind. Jenkins remained motionless for several minutes. His orders were to wait until the others were completely out of sight.

At last, certain he was alone, the compliant agent picked up the gas can, carried it into the trees, placed it just inside the thicket, and walked to the shack. The old timer lay there, breathing heavily. When Gideon saw the agent enter, he tried to rise, but the straps restrained him, and he fell back helplessly. Jenkins drew his pistol and screwed the silencer in place. Gideon closed his eyes, sighed, and turned his head.

The old timer heard a subdued thud and presumed it was the muted report of the deadly weapon. He’d anticipated pain, possibly a loss of vision. When neither sensation occurred, he turned to face his executioner and found himself staring at two men—one on the ground and the other standing.

Jenkins was facedown and unmoving, while another man pocketed the pistol.

"Captain Hershel at your service," the new arrival introduced himself. "Now, let's see about unplugging you."

Moving closer, the captain reached down and touched Gideon's shoulder.

"It’ll be all right," he assured the old timer. "I’m here to rescue you, but first I need you and our friend here to switch places."

Rapidly stripping the agent, Hershel freed Gideon and helped him out of his shirt and jacket. As the old timer began to unbuckle his belt, the captain decided there wasn't time to exchange trousers.

"Shirt and jacket ought to do it," he told the former prisoner.

"Best news I’ve had all day," said Gideon. "I’m right fond of this-here rodeo buckle."

After dressing the groggy agent, Hershel strapped the man onto the gurney. Without a twinge of conscience, he fired a bullet into the temple of the would-be assassin. Then he led the old timer outside and directed Gideon to a patch of dry ground beneath the dilapidated edge of an overhanging roof. After making certain the freed prisoner was in the clear, the decisive captain returned to the cedars, grabbed the gasoline can, saturated the shack, and set it ablaze.

The captain was certain that Hendrix, ever the cautious supervisor, would undoubtedly have paused somewhere far up the road where he could watch for smoke as evidence that his orders were being followed. While the flammable shack and the thicket of surrounding trees burned, Hershel helped Gideon to his feet.

"We’d better make ourselves scarce," he told the old timer.

"Yer one cool customer, I’ll give you that," Gideon commented. "I’m certain-sure that skunk needed killin’ but how’d you know to burn the place?"

"Standard procedure," Hershel informed him. "Plus, I was hiding close by and near enough to hear the Old Man bellow his orders."

Thick smoke billowed skyward, forming an elongated black smudge against the crystal-blue sky. A satisfactory signal, Hershel decided. Enough to confirm to Hendrix, or anyone else watching, that Gideon Dixon had been dispatched and incinerated.

"We’ll take the truck," Hershel said. "Can you shoot?"

"No worries on that-there account," Gideon assured him.

"This is yours then," Hershel decided. "A souvenir," he added.

Gideon fingered the pistol. Hershel watched with interest as the old timer examined the weapon's unusual grip. Hershel had it pegged as Russian and he wondered, briefly, if anyone else would recognize the connection between the grip's embossed star and the newest member state of the League of Nations. The captain didn't trust any aspect of the so-called Soviet Union.

I wouldn't, he reminded himself, trust a Russian as far as I could throw him and some of those Russians are plenty damn big.

"Not much to show fer a life," Gideon said, his eyes still fixed on the pistol.

"Not much to show even when he was alive," Hershel declared. "That particular Eyestone operative would have killed you without missing a beat."

"That I don't doubt," said Gideon. "Eyestone, huh?" Gideon shook his head as he repeated the name of the special, and supposedly secret, branch of the Old Man's Mountain Regiment. "Them bastards been months chasin’ me. So, where do we go now?"

"Anyplace but here," the captain replied.

As they walked to the truck, Hershel noticed the old timer was limping, and no wonder. It looked like he’d been put through the wringer. His leg was bandaged, but it was a clean wrap with no visible blood, which suggested a sprain. Reaching the vehicle, Hershel stowed the empty gas can in the bed, then headed for the driver's side door. But the old timer grabbed the captain's arm and pointed to the ground, drawing attention to boot tracks in the snow-encrusted surface and the imprint of someone having recently knelt there. With some effort, Gideon bent down and motioned to the captain to look underneath the running board. Hershel squatted and instantly recognized the problem. A wire ran the length of the truck's undercarriage from a point below the front seat until it reached the tailpipe.

"A surprise fer our Eyestone shooter, no doubt," said the old timer.

"No doubt," Hershel agreed as the pair stood erect and moved cautiously away from the trip-wired truck. "But how did you know to check for explosives?"

"And don't I know my old man?" he answered cryptically.

Gideon seemed to suggest, by this cryptic remark, that Hendrix was his father, an impossibility given that the old timer was seventy if he was a day and Hendrix was, so far as Hershel could determine, in his late fifties.

"I see you spinnin’ that puzzle over in yer mind," said Gideon with a twinkle in his eye. "I said, ‘my old man’ and that-there is exactly what I meant. It's a puzzle for sure, but I got the key of which I’ll tell you later. Meantime, I think my old man—yes, my old man—will be waitin’ out there for to hear the noise of this-here fancy truck goin’ boom."

Hershel told himself that his companion was correct. Just as Hendrix was undoubtedly watching from a safe distance for tell-tale smoke from the burning shack, he would be also listening for the explosion intended to kill his henchman.

No loose ends, Hershel thought.

The explosives were a standard agency set-up, threaded into the tailpipe and rigged to ignite when the ignition was switched on. Recognizing this, Hershel devised a plan. Remaining a safe distance away, he squatted again to make certain of his target.

"So, how you gonna—?" Gideon began, but the captain was way ahead of him.

"You may want to join me back here," Hershel suggested as he walked several paces away and positioned himself behind a pile of rubble which had once been the stonework of a water-well. "And bring your souvenir please."

The old timer followed, knelt beside the captain, and handed over the assassin's pistol.

"Yer eyes is probably better," the older man assured the younger.

Hershel nodded, steadied his aim on the lip of the well, and then—in the interest of accuracy—he removed the silencer.

"Won't do to miss," observed Gideon.

He was correct. Hershel had to do it in one shot, ensuring that the explosion would mask the report of the pistol. Otherwise, there would be one or more naked shots to account for, an anomaly which would surely bring the Old Man back to the scene of the crime. Hershel took a deep breath and took aim again, sighting firmly on the open end of the tailpipe. From that distance it would be like putting a bullet into the exact bull's-eye of a paper target, something the captain had done often enough on the practice range. He was confident he wouldn't miss, so he squeezed the trigger.

The explosion, even though Hershel expected it, was intense. In the echoing aftermath, parts of the dismantled truck clanged audibly against the stonework and rained heavily on all sides of the men. One of the flaming tires rolled their way, careening wildly and trailing smoke. It passed beyond their shelter, then wobbled to a stop.

"Now—" Hershel began as they both stood up. "What is that smell?"

"May-be burned rubber. May-be polecat," smiled Gideon as he buried his nose into the armpit of his borrowed shirt and jacket.

Deprived of the truck, the two set out on foot and headed west, toward Colorado. Gideon knew the country well and they made good progress until toward evening when the old timer began to lag behind and Hershel called a halt.

Secreted in a deep draw, they risked a small fire. It was bitterly cold, and they had nothing to eat, so they sat together in the growing darkness while Dix, as he said his friends called him, told his story. Afterward, sometime in the night, the old timer bled out from a leg wound, which Hershel had entirely failed to notice. Scraping a passable hole using his pocketknife and a tapered fragment of rock, the captain buried Gideon out there on the prairie, fully aware that he’d be unlikely to locate the spot again. Gideon's story would have to serve as his headstone.

Click to see the Graduating Class of 2023 from Delta County

In-County and Out-of-County Subscriptions Available. Free within Delta County!

Click here to browse classified ads.

Interested in a Display Ad? Call us at (970) 527-4576 or email [email protected]

Get the newest edition of the weekly Shopper delivered to your inbox every Wednesday at 6am!

Success! An email has been sent to with a link to confirm list signup.

Error! There was an error processing your request.

Sign up now, it's easy! Click the House icon on the Navigation Bar for tutorials

Sorry, there are no recent results for popular videos.

Sorry, there are no recent results for popular commented articles.