Steve And Chuck - Changes And Life AdjustmentsChapter 20 free porn video

Chuck

I was on my way to Cut Bank, Montana. Way up in northern Montana. My Aunt Etta-Mae had called saying she was in trouble. Lisa had just asked me to tell her what was really happening.

The cabin satellite phone was ringing. Julie went to answer it and looked up at me. I told her I could transfer the call to my headset.

"Johnson."

"Is this Charles Johnson?"

I told the voice, "It is. Most call me Chuck."

"Chuck, you have an aunt named Etta-Mae Johnson, right?"

Being wary I asked, "Who are you and what are you to my aunt?"

"My name is Ralph Davis. I am your aunt's attorney. I called your home in Tampa and was told I could reach you through this number. I'm calling to let you know your aunt may have been murdered this evening. The Sheriff just called me to let me know her home was shot up and that there were bodies in the yard, but Etta was not found. The Sheriff said there was so much blood you couldn't tell what had happened. He was calling me as he knew I was her attorney and to advise me a couple of men from out of town were trying to present him with custody papers for your two nieces and wanted a local judge to probate your aunt's will as they claim you are dead. Since you're her sole heir, you're going to have to prove who you are. A hearing on Etta's will can't be done because we don't know if she's alive or dead. It's suspicious that those men knew of the attack out there while the crime scene was still closed."

Now I was really concerned, afraid I might be too late, "I talked to Aunt Etta a couple of hours ago, and she told me she needed me as soon as I could get there, but told me she could handle the people giving her trouble. I'm on my way right now and should be in Cut Bank by eight, eight-thirty, ah, that will be about six your time."

Ralph Davis said, "The Sheriff is not allowing anyone access to Etta's grandchildren. She brought them into town yesterday for her preacher to watch after them to keep them safe and out of the problem she was having. If whoever it is that is trying to gain custody can get a judge to hear the case, since it involves minors, the hearing could be as early as tomorrow."

"Ralph, do what you can do to stall this. I've called the U.S. Marshal's office in Great Falls, and they will have the resident FBI agent get involved. I'll handle keeping my nieces from some unknown person."

"Chuck, one more thing. There is a group of people called the New Wave Militia up here and they are trying to buy up Etta's land for back taxes. These are very bad people, and if they were the ones who attacked your aunt, she may be dead. Your aunt's property taxes aren't that delinquent, and nobody up here pays them on time. Etta usually pays them just before the new appraisals come out, the same as everyone. I guess we could be putting our property in jeopardy, but that's just the way we do things up here."

I told him, "I'll take care of those as soon as we land. Meet me at the Cut Bank Airport."

When I hung up, I told Lisa to take the controls as I wanted to go to the communications desk and make some more calls.

I was curious to see if anyone was on the patio and if things were happening. Glenda answered the phone. I told her, "Glenda, you're supposed to be in bed. Why are you still up?"

"You know why, Chuck. Steve called up here, and people are going crazy. Hap has a couple dozen men dressed like soldiers carrying rifles and everything. Steve is coming home and has Ben on his way out to the airpark where Hap is heading. Chance has some of those fancy jeeps, what you call Humvees, ready to go somewhere too. What's going on?"

"Glenda, I've mentioned I have a recluse aunt out in Montana. She apparently wasn't too much of a recluse as she has a couple of grandchildren she's raising. I don't know what happened to their parents, who would have been my cousins."

Glenda said, "You have never talked about your family. You should, you know."

"Briefly, Glenda, my father was a Marine in Vietnam, another special operations type similar to Steve and me. Like us, he was medically retired out of the service, having lost most of the toes off his right foot. He did not limp much, but had to use special shoes to work. My mother was born in Louisiana and ran away from some sort of arranged marriage. She wound up in Tampa, working in a biker bar, where she met my father after he was discharged. They lived there for a while, but had to leave when her relatives found them and caused some trouble. They moved back to his hometown and settled down."

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Glenda, "Angel and Davey Johnson. Were they your parents?"

Surprised I answered, "Yes, Angelina and David. Did you know them?"

"They lived next to Abe and Alice for about three months. Then her family showed up, three cousins or brothers were going to kill David and take her home. Your dad put them all in the hospital. A few days later, five more showed up, and it was a shootout, just like Steve and the Barlows. Your folks left after that happened, telling us it was to protect the rest of us. Another group of men showed up later, looking for your mom and dad, but they were met by some gentlemen in dark suits and sunglasses, who told them that it was a bad idea to ask questions about David Johnson, a very, very bad idea. The gentlemen in suits left some cards and asked us to call if anyone came looking. I haven't thought of them in years. For the few months they were here, they were our best friends."

"Glenda, we'll talk more about this another time. Let me call Ben on his cell."

When I reached Ben, I asked, "With the information you carry about me, would you happen to have copies of my birth certificate and DD214? They should be sufficient to prove I am who I claim to be."

Ben said, "Yes, I have certified copies of your personal information in our file. I don't carry exact investment information, only a letter of credit from your bank. What kind of trouble are you in? Steve said your aunt needed you."

"It's a long story, Ben, and we don't have time to go over it. Do you know who is going to fly you out here?"

Ben exclaimed questioning, "Don't you know? The Air Force."

I had to ask, "The Air Force? How did they get involved?"

"Your buddy, Steve, called some big wheel General he knows, and there is what they call a C-5 Galaxy going to pick everyone up in a few minutes and haul us up there." Ben was just as puzzled as I was.

"Okay, Ben, I'm not sure of who all is coming, but that aircraft should be able to handle everyone. I have to make another call. See you in a few hours."

"Wait, Chuck, there's more. Lawton Monroe, the semi-retired federal judge is coming with us. You know him; he was the one who helped when you were locked up down here. Steve called him, and he's going with us to help out. His jurisdiction is anywhere in the U.S. as long as it has to do with a federal problem." After disconnecting from Ben, I thought to myself, wow, a C-5. That is a hell of an aircraft. It is huge and fast. I wonder how Steve managed to get something like that.

I called Nightfox next. I knew he would probably be asleep, but I needed to tell him what was up. He answered, "What took you so long to call me?"

"I love you too, Sam."

"So, what is all this that you're calling the men from Great Falls out and the FBI are interested as well? What the hell are you doing trying to take on the New Wave Militia by yourself?"

"Nightfox, I have never heard of the New Wave Militia until just a few minutes ago. I really don't care who they are, but if they are giving my aunt a problem, I want to talk to them."

Sam said, "Don't go off half-cocked. Those are some real rough people. The agent in charge up there will brief you about them. I was told by the Sheriff up there that they did not find your aunt, so she may be either hiding or a hostage."

"I hope so, Sam, I'm worried."

"Listen, Chuck," Sam said, "You're getting some heavy duty support from your friends, and Steve has called in a favor from the Air Force. I don't know what kind of army Steve has, but he's sending part of it up there. Make sure Steve's men are not targets. Let the law work for you."

"Thanks, Sam, I'll do what's right, or should I say, what's needed."

The next thing Sam said surprised me, "I have the strike team scrambling, and they will be taking off from Andrews in the next half hour. I'm sending them up with some vehicles and plenty of armament. Since this is probably something about the New Wave, I want you to have as much support as needed."

"Thanks again, Sam. That might be overkill, but in this case I welcome overkill."

"Do what's right, Chuck."

The man hung up on me. That must be catchy in DC.

I sat back in my chair and was suddenly tired, very tired. This could be a false alarm or a real cluster fuck. Hopefully, this can be handled intelligently, and hopefully, my aunt is okay. I needed some coffee, so I went back to the cockpit. Julie handed me a cup of coffee as soon as I was seated again. Lisa looked at me funny and said, "Okay, we've heard a little, but tell us what is going on."

I spent a few minutes telling them everything I knew up to this point. I told them of Steve sending Hap and men by military aircraft, with Ben on his way to give legal support. Lisa was happy to know Sam Nightfox was sending more help. We should have felt comfortable, but I was still very anxious.

That's when Julie said, "Tell us about your family. We have time; tell us so we understand."

I told them how my dad had been a Marine and was discharged around Tampa. "He met my mom there and married her. Mom came from a Cajun family that felt as if they owned her and came to Tampa to take her back to the bayou. Dad must have hurt a couple, since they came back with guns. Dad came out ahead again, but decided to move away, back to his hometown."

"Glenda just told me that she, Alice, Abe, and Martin were my folks' best friends when they lived in the same trailer park we live in now."

"As I told you before, I have never met my aunt. I only know from things I heard. My parents seldom spoke of her. I heard stories early on in school. Something about her being pregnant, then there were the stories about her being a witch and hexing someone. Her boyfriend ran off, died, or married someone else, depending on who told the story. I was teased quite a bit about her in the early grades, but around sixth grade, I started to muscle up, and my father began training me in martial arts. I expect that my peers still talked about her, but few did it to my face. As I have told you before, other than music, I was pretty much a loner growing up. Looking back, I'm sure a lot of that relates to the way people viewed my aunt, and in turn, viewed my family."

"My father would occasionally say something about her. My sister evidently looked a lot like her, but my mother always hushed him up, saying something like, 'what is buried should stay buried'. I know he wrote to her every month and received letters back from her. I've sent her Christmas cards and have written several letters to let her know where I was, what I was doing, and my address, in case she wanted to write back."

"I never quite understood why my parents stayed in that town where I grew up. They were treated terribly. When they were killed while I was overseas, I received notice from the Sheriff's Department that my folks were at fault and that all their property was taken in settlement of a lawsuit by the other party. I later got an unsigned letter from someone saying that they had been broadsided by a large truck and knocked into the river. Witnesses had stood on the bank and watched them die."

"Luckily for the town, I was in Iraq, or there would have been a bloodbath. Two days after I was notified of their deaths, I received a letter from my father. In it he told me that the family planned to leave as my sister was going to enroll at USF, and they were moving to Tampa. He wrote and underlined that under no circumstance was I to come back to that town. I would find my family in Tampa. Dad could always calm me down, and I could hear my father's voice coaching me through Tai Chi forms, relaxing me. I could almost hear him tell me to let it go, the time was not now. I had the three of them cremated and the ashes held for me by the military. While I was in rehab, I had them spread at sea off the Florida coast."

Tina said, "Tell us more about your father."

"I guess he looked at lot like me, about 5'10", 160 lbs. He could do anything with his hands. He ran a repair shop and fixed everything. People would bring old toasters, TVs, radios, fans, even cars and trucks. Lawn equipment was big. He did this as cheaply as possible, since most of his customers lived on the edge of poverty. He kept a lot of people in that town going, in spite of how we were treated."

"I remember how knowledgeable he was in the woods. Starting when I was about 4 or 5, he would take me out into the forest and teach me. I think he could communicate with the woods. I watched as he walked into a clearing where there was a mother rabbit and her babies. We sat down and watched while they looked at us and kept munching the clover and grass. He worked hard to teach me, but I was never as good at it. I did learn to feel the forest some, to the point that I could feel animals as they approached, but he seemed to know everything that was going on."

"We would go out every year and kill one deer, usually an older buck. He did that Native American thing where he thanked the deer for its life after killing it. He always split the meat with some older folks down the street. He was, and still is, the best man I have ever known. I know some that come close, but to me, he was the best."

Lisa asked, "And your mother?"

"She was Cajun, small, about 5'1". She had black hair and very dark eyes; her skin was like a Coppertone ad. The thing I remember most was her dancing. She loved to dance. She had many, many records of all types of music; Cajun, blues, country, rock. She would put the music on and get the four of us out in the living room dancing; my mother, father, sister, and me. We would change partners often so we would learn better. I know you've heard from the Fab Five about the night at the Hard Rock; Mom taught me all that. She also encouraged me to play my guitar and the piano, telling me that her family had been musicians for centuries, and that it was in my blood."

Julie softly asked, "Tell us about your sister, Chuck."

"She was so sweet, a younger version of my mother. She was a year younger than me and had the same problems I had with gossip and mean-minded kids. I spent a lot of time protecting her all through school. She was like Mercy and Missy in some ways. She always understood what people were really saying and often predicted things. My father made her keep it in the family, as doing things like that evidently were part of the reason my aunt had left town.

I attended a vocational welding school and planned to play more music in the area. I hated to leave town to join the service, but my father insisted. I had been shot at twice when out hunting, and my father told me to go before something bad happened. He promised me that he had things under control. My sister only had a couple months of school to finish, and then the family was planning to leave."

I realized that tears were running down my face; Tina, Julie, and Lisa were all touching me, trying to comfort me. I had never come to grips with the loss of my family. I had never cried for them before, never really grieved, not even when I had their ashes spread. Now my aunt, my last connection to them, was in trouble and could be lost. The flood gates were open. Lisa and Tina had orchestrated this, but I knew it was important to get this out, to grieve, and to open up about my family; the family that I thought would be waiting for me in Tampa, just like my father wrote me. I would save my aunt and cousins and, if possible, find out who was behind this.

"Did you ever do anything about what happened to your family, Chuck?"

"Not directly, but since I've come into so much money, I've bought as much of the town as has been for sale. I own everything other than personal homes, and I own the mortgages on most of them. I just let them sit; I own them; I own the town and could shut it all down tomorrow if I chose to do so. Actually, it is all owned by ADB Development, Angelina, David, and Bethany. Sarah Perkins, my crazy lady lawyer, did all of the work for me. She knew it was a personal problem I had with the community. I won't shut it down because there are too many innocents involved, many of whom helped us as much as they could back then. I also don't really know who was to blame for what happened. Besides, I am a U.S. Deputy Marshal, I don't do revenge; well, not for revenge's sake. I enforce the law. I will make people uncomfortable, but that is it. I do or rather Sarah, has spies in town and make sure that any corruption is shutdown at once. As it is, the local sheriff is afraid to take a free cup of coffee at the diner. Last time he did, I sent him a note citing state regulations pertaining to public officials taking bribes and the appearance of impropriety. Someday, when the time is right, I will visit, maybe."

I looked at the ladies and said, "One of the things I love about all of you is that you take care of me, not just the sex, but you love and comfort me. I don't tell you often enough, but I am telling you now. I love each and every one of you. You have become my family, not replacing, but standing in for, the one I lost. I know that somewhere my mother, father, and sister look down and smile on the blessings you have brought to my life. I have come back from missions pretty burned out, and you have helped me out of the guilt I feel for what I have to do. You are doing that now, and I thank you for that."

From Limon to Cut Bank is a little over 2900 miles, roughly 5 hours at 600 mph and within the range of the Citation. Unfortunately, the winds were not in our favor so it was necessary to stop for fuel along the way, and Amarillo was the selected place. For the rest of the flight, Lisa and I let each other doze so we would be fresh when we arrived. We switched off every hour, one closing their eyes and snoozing, the other attentive to the aircraft.

As we passed Great Falls, I called the number the attorney had given me to tell him we would be landing in a few minutes. He said he would be right there to meet us. When we landed at an old bomber base, now Cut Bank Municipal, we got off the plane to be met by the Great Falls, Montana, Station Chief Deputy, the FBI Special Agent in Charge, the local Sheriff, and Ralph Davis, my aunt's attorney.

The Deputy stuck out his hand, "I'm Daniel Bryant, Station Chief Deputy, Great Falls – Billings Region, and this is Nancy Martin, FBI Special Agent in Charge also of the Great Falls – Billings Region. Sam Nightfox called me with additional information about what was going on. We have been trying to get a handle on how to bring the New Wave down and are hoping this will be our opening. We know you are here on personal business, but if things go bad, as they tend to do around the New Wave, we will be here to support you. I wish I could promise you National Guard troops, but we are worried about New Wave infiltration. They have been spreading a lot of cash around. The Governor says there is a National Guard MP platoon that just returned from Afghanistan. It is over fifty percent female, but they experienced several heavy firefights doing convoy duty. The New Wave is heavily male dominated, so we can be sure there is minimal, if any, infiltration in that platoon. That would give you roughly forty troops to augment what you can provide. The MPs have 10 Hummers all armed with .50s. They have already been called up for an emergency training exercise and can be here in roughly four hours."

The Sheriff had been telling us everything he knew of Aunt Etta's situation, and had been discussing what was going on for over an hour, when a huge C-5 Galaxy landed. That aircraft is really big, powered by four giant turbines. Its first major operational use had been during the Yom Kippur War in 1973, when it flew two 53 ton tanks at a time from the US to Israel to replace that country's losses during the opening phase of that war. In addition to its huge cargo deck, it has rear-facing passenger seats for 73 troops up in the spine of the aircraft behind the cockpit, way over the cargo deck. Its crews call it FRED, short for Fucking Ridiculous Economic Disaster, but it's been flying for over 40 years and is forecast to keep flying for at least another 20.

When the aircraft parked near the operations building, the rear ramp lowered and people began streaming off. The first person to come down the ramp was Hap. He was accompanied by Ben Phillips and Lawton Monroe, the semi-retired federal judge. The next two people surprised me, Missy and Mercy walked down the ramp and went straight to Tina and Julie for hugs. They stood away from me for the time being as I surveyed what was coming off the aircraft.

I looked at Hap, "How did you get here so fast?"

Hap said, "Steve called and told me to get some men together and to call Ben. Steve said he had a C-130 ready to pick us up at the airpark. Chance had the vehicles there when we arrived, then the C-130 turned into this C-5, so we had enough room for the vehicles too."

"Hap, what did you bring?" I asked as we watched vehicles and men coming from the aircraft.

"I brought twenty-five men; most have Special Forces training, and all have combat experience," Hap enthusiastically answered. "We have six of our new composite armored Hummers with mini-guns, compliments of 'you don't want to know'. Sam Nightfox called and advised me to consider all of the men to have been sworn in as special security Deputies to protect the judge, along with you and Lisa."

That was not enough to present a strong contingent if it became necessary. I turned to the Deputy Marshal Station Chief, "Dan, what can you and Nancy provide?"

"We are relatively small offices; we can only free up three to four people total; our men have minimal combat experience."

I looked at the attorney, Ralph Davis, and the Sheriff. "OK, it is time to ask the Governor to get that MP platoon moving; hopefully we won't need it, but I would rather be safe than sorry."

I smiled at the judge before saying, "Thank you for helping me out again."

"You're welcome, Chuck. I may not be of much help, but I can help Ben and be your local attorney until this becomes a federal case. This may be the most interesting thing I've been involved in since I took Senior Judge status and was able to quit minding a full docket."

I told those gathered, "This is Ralph Davis, Etta-Mae's attorney, and as such, is the attorney of record for my cousins Marion and Virginia Johnson."

Turning to the local attorney, I asked, "Ralph, can you shed any light on what is going on? What is behind all of this?"

Before Ralph could answer, the Sheriff said, "Let's go to Rachel's Diner in town for some breakfast. Her place will hold everyone here, and we can talk there. She runs those crazy New Wave people out of her place, so they won't bother us there. Your vehicles might cause a stir, but so what."

Ralph pointed to a couple of Ford Expeditions and said, "I own one and rented the other for you. We should have enough room for everyone."

Lisa and I put our cases into the Expedition and followed the Sheriff and lawyer into town, while leading the S&S special vehicles. We must have looked almost as scary as the bad news militia.

We drove into Cut Bank to a good sized diner with a large neon sign proclaiming, "Rachel's". The diner has some small tables, but mostly had very large family style tables that people sat at together to have their meals.

When we had coffee in front of us and our orders in, Ralph looked around at everyone and began, "As near as I can tell, there are two forces at work here, and I am not sure if they are working separately or together. They may even be at cross purposes."

"The New Wave has been trying to buy Etta-Mae's land for a couple of years. It is well situated, with a nice valley that runs right up the thirty miles it takes to cross the Canadian border. It is perfect to bring contraband into the U.S or move it into Canada. There is no other good way across, especially in the winter, as the hills are pretty broken up and difficult to get across. They, the New Wave, began threatening her a few months back, but she is, or was, a stubborn lady. Someone, who she thought were the New Wave people, took a couple of shots at her, but she shot back and thought she wounded a couple. It was then that she took the girls down to the boarding school at her church here in Cut Bank, to keep them from being hurt or even worse, killed. They are at the boarding school now, but we can't get in to see them until after the hearing to determine custody tomorrow. After that original shooting incident, the New Wave Militia seemed to go crazy, and near as we can tell, went in and shot the place up, possibly killing her."

"This brings up the other party. There is a man named Gordon Tasker, who is claiming that he should have legal custody of the girls. He says he is a distant relative of some sort. Etta-Mae's will specifically lists you as the girls' guardian, and your relationship to them as a second cousin, is certainly closer than his. He, however, claims that you were killed in Iraq and has a deposition that supports that. We have a hearing at nine in the morning tomorrow. I hope you have plenty of documentation to support your existence."

I pointed at Ben Phillips, "Ben?"

Ben patted his large briefcase, "I brought everything, birth certificate, DD214 (discharge papers), and your parents' birth and death certificates. Along with that, we have testimony from the judge, and affidavits from the Marshal's service, that will attest to the fact that you are alive and are indeed Charles Johnson, son of David and Angelina Johnson."

I addressed the group again, "Well, I don't know why he's doing what he's doing, but I do know that Gordon Tasker was a big wheel where I grew up and was a political opponent of my father. My father was not into politics, but was very vocal in his opinions. Tasker hated him and may be carrying on some kind of personal vendetta. We may need to dig deeper, as the fact that he claims a relationship to the girls, makes me think that there may be some sort of inheritance somewhere. Ben, why not turn your legal bloodhounds loose? Trace our genealogy back, and see if you can find anything, land grants, oil leases, whatever."

I asked the group, "Where is the hearing to be held, and what should be our next moves?"

Ralph Davis, the local attorney, replied, "The hearing is before a local civil child protection judge in Bryantsville. He is honest, but easily intimidated. I have arranged for some State Patrol presence at the hearing. It is nice to have some powerful friends. The fact that S&S employs a significant number of people in the state helps. I've already contacted the judge to have Judge Davis and Mr. Philips admitted to practice in this case in Montana pro hac vice, which is law Latin for, basically, a courtesy admission just for this one case."

I asked Ralph, "I trust you have accommodations for everyone? We need to get a good night's sleep tonight and get ready to make the trip to Bryantsville."

Ralph answered, "I rented all the available rooms at the Gorge Motel and have a warehouse which has been laid out with cots for those in need."

"That's good, Ralph. Does the warehouse have shower facilities for the MP platoon? We need to make sure that group is comfortable and well fed. If necessary, we will put up some screens for privacy, but I'm sure that group is used to more primitive conditions. I want all of us together as much as possible, and I want people on watch the rest of the night."

I turned to the Sheriff, "I'd like to see Aunt Etta's place. Is it far?"

The man said, "Naw, it's only a couple of miles, just north of town. We can be out there in five, ten minutes."

I asked Ralph, "Can you take the Deputy, Agent, Ben, and Judge Lawton, and lead the S&S men to the motel? I want to run out to Aunt Etta's to get a look at her place. It will give me an idea of how she lived." I also asked, "Can you take Ben to the county courthouse to pay my aunt's taxes? Make sure they are recorded today."

My women insisted on accompanying me, so we followed the Sheriff out of town on a meandering country road marked Corrigeaux Road. The terrain was densely forested with pine trees. It looked like most were what I thought were Ponderosa pines. The underbrush was thick in places, but the terrain was very rocky with jutting bluffs and boulders.

When we drove into a meadow with the cabin, you had the feeling that this was home. The place looked as peaceful as you could ever want. The house, or cabin, didn't look that big from the front, but as you curved to the side of it, you could see it was very long, going all the way to a bluff that bordered the back of the building. The front part of the cabin was log, with plaster or concrete filler between the logs. The rear of the building appeared to be of more modern construction.