woostify domain was triggered too early. This is usually an indicator for some code in the plugin or theme running too early. Translations should be loaded at the init action or later. Please see Debugging in WordPress for more information. (This message was added in version 6.7.0.) in /home/latestwordpress/lonestar.a1professionals.net_public_html/wp-includes/functions.php on line 6131New Western\/Crime Fiction<\/p>\n
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Excerpt from chapter 1 of Branded. <\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Used with permission from author Jon Armour.<\/em><\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n It\u2019s mid-June 2001 in North Texas. The air is as hot and dry as a piece of Texas toast. Whisps of steam rise from the oily pavement along U.S. Highway 82 between Sherman and Whitesboro\u2014a couple of quaint small towns not far from Lake Texoma, a popular recreation spot. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Along the blistery stretch of road travels Bob, but not at the speed limit and not for a fishing trip to the popular North Texas reservoir. Bob is moving along at over one hundred miles an hour, screaming down the highway in a stolen SUV. He\u2019s checking his mirrors, sweating profusely, and talking to his car. \u201cCome on, dammit. Get me out of here!\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Behind him are a dozen or so cop cars close on his tail, weaving back and forth from one side of the road to the other trying to get up alongside Bob\u2019s vehicle. Ahead of him are just as many, set up to take him out if they can. It\u2019s do-or-die for Bob. It seems there is no escaping what\u2019s in front of him or behind. They close him in like a fuse burning on two ends of a stick of dynamite. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n He pushes the SUV to its limit. The engine lights flash. The temperature gauge is pegged almost all the way to the right, still in the yellow, not quite red yet, but he\u2019s working on it. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Bob comes to a small hill in the road. He can\u2019t see over it, but he\u2019s moving too fast to stop now. As he flies over the top, he sees that Department of Public Safety officers have cars set up on both sides of the highway. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Oh shit! he says to himself. They got spike strips in the road. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n He yanks the wheel hard to the right and into the low-profile ditch alongside the highway. Miraculously, his momentum carries the car through the ditch and back up on the other side, onto the blacktop. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n He looks in his rearview mirror. The cops are scrambling to get in their cars and come after him. Bob laughs heartily. Damn, that actually worked! He proceeds forward. Having slowed down the cops behind him just slightly, he punches the gas to the floor, trying to get out of sight. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n The SUV strains under Bob\u2019s control. He prays he can soon get off this highway. He looks farther down the road. DPS has a second line of patrol cars ahead. As he proceeds into the danger zone of cops set up across a bridge over the river, he realizes he can\u2019t keep moving toward them. They\u2019re half a mile thick. He\u2019s got to make a move, or they will pepper him like Swiss cheese when he crosses the river. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Bob slams on the brakes and puts the car into a smoky skid. Fumes from burning tire rubber and asbestos brake dust permeate the air behind him. The cops following him can\u2019t see now. They\u2019ve driven right into Bob\u2019s smoke screen and slowed to a mere crawl, squinting hard through the thick smoke to ascertain the situation. Bob cuts the car to the left across the grass-and-dirt median. More dust and dirt fly into the air. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n He comes up on the other side and crosses right over the highway into a Pizza Hut parking lot, slamming into a large, overfull dumpster and pushing it out into the main lanes of traffic on the crossing road. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n That doesn\u2019t stop him, and the tough little SUV keeps plowing through the trashy mess to the crossroad heading south on the other side. The car is starting to take the shape of a wadded-up piece of tinfoil, smoke and steam rolling out of it. But it continues like a Sherman tank. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n The cops have slowed again so they can reposition and manage the chaos caused by the dumpster. Trash spills all over the road. Several cars hit the steel hunk and push it around like a ball in a pinball machine, back and forth across the four-lane road. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Bob\u2019s moving fast again, but the cops aren\u2019t far behind. There\u2019ll be more coming from the other direction soon. He realizes he has to get onto a back road and try to get out of sight. He\u2019s in a familiar area, near a barbecue joint called Clark\u2019s Outpost. It\u2019s very popular with folks all over North Texas. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n He can smell the sweet aroma of meats and wood smoke drifting through the air as he passes by. Tempting, sure. But he can\u2019t stop. If he did, it would be the only barbecue in the world that could stop the target of a police chase in his tracks for a quick chopped-beef sandwich and some succulent sausage links. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n He keeps going, taking in the smell with a huge smile on his face. He\u2019s looking for a road he knows is off to the left just after the restaurant. There it is. No sign, just a dirt-and-gravel lane heading off into the country. He thinks he can throw the cops off his trail. He knows the crossroads and long driveways along the remote road where he can probably hide to wait for them to go by. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Bob has never been on this road at high speeds. It\u2019s one consideration he didn\u2019t account for. He\u2019s going too fast; the gravel is slippery as ice. He punches the accelerator and takes his chances. He has to make some distance between him and the cops. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n Then, in an instant\u2014 <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Bam! <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n The car hits a ditch on an S curve in the road and rolls over several times, coming to a stop in the bar ditch. He\u2019s hanging upside down from his seat belt. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n He can hear the sirens fast approaching. There are lots of them, and now a helicopter hovers overhead in the distance. Bob becomes aware of a burning pain in his chest and back. The smoke, steam, and dust in the air leave him choking for breath. He quickly pops the seat belt and falls to the roof, which is now the floor of the car. He can\u2019t see through the thick cloudy mixture of dirt and fumes. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n Bob feels around for the gun he\u2019s stashed in the SUV. He gets his hand on the grip and dislodges it from under the bottom of the seat. Making his way through the open driver\u2019s side window, he crawls into the ditch and then\u2014staying low\u2014out through a wheat field to a wooded area nearby. <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n He looks back. The crumpled SUV lies smoking in the ditch, spreading a fog across the pasture. The cops have just arrived and are surrounding the area, setting up a perimeter for the crash scene. He can hear one of the Rangers yelling through a bullhorn: \u201cBob, come on out! We have a nice cold soda for you.\u201d <\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n It is very hot out. Bob realizes the cops probably think he\u2019s still in the vehicle and are hoping to flush him out with a refreshing beverage. But he is now some distance away, wondering how he\u2019ll manage his way through the circle of patrol cars, helicopters, dogs, and officers from multiple police agencies that are starting to set up in every direction.<\/span><\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n ===<\/p>\n