Retribution Unlimited

By Mike Poppe

Retribution Unlimited is a story of Mystery, Romance, and Revenge, set in Montana, and in the town of Estes Park, Colorado.
Spencer Blackfeather was raised on the Blackfoot reservation in Montana. His father was a full blooded Blackfoot brave, his mother a beautiful redheaded Irish lass.
At 18, Spencer joined the Marines, and later served as a member of the Navy Seals. During that service, his parents and his wife were fighting to keep a drug lord named Tony Baxter from selling his poison to the Blackfoot people. Just prior to the end of Spencer's enlistment, Baxter killed his wife and parents.
No court could touch Baxter, so it fell to Spencer to bring Baxter to justice in a way that only a Blackfoot warrior trained in the ways that had been passed down for hundreds of years, could do.
Later, Baxter's brother escapes from prison to take revenge on Spencer and his new love. This Baxter is even more ruthless and skilled in ways to murder than his brother was.
Spencer will need all the skills learned on the reservation,in the Marines and in the Seals, just to survive and keep his new sweetheart alive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mike Poppe
• Release date: Mar 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476398457

Mike Poppe

I was born in Rector, Arkansas, a small farming based town in Northeast Arkansas. Later, my parents moved to St. Louis in search of better economic opportunity. At age 16, disallusioned and bored with the “One Size Fits All” educational system, I dropped out in the 10th grade.Just as soon as I turned 17, I joined the Marine Corps. The education the Corps provided, wasn't always polite and pleasant, but it most certainly was not boring. My four year enlistment included one year in South Vietnam. 7 November, 1965 to 6 November, 1966. At the end of my enlistment, having attained the rank of Sgt E-5, I returned to civilian life.After nine months as an Industrial Engineering Clerk, I took advantage of an opportunity to move into transportation. For the next 34 years, I was a dispatcher and driver supervisor in the Trucking Industry.In 2011, the rise in popularity of E-books caught my attention. A life long avid reader, I'd always believed I could write a book, but didn't know how to go about getting it published. The birth of E-Books changed all that. In the fall of 2011, fulfilling a life long dream, I published my first book, The Sparrows Whisper.Today, my wife, Mary Katherine, and I, live in a small rural town in Southwestern Illinois. With the encouragement of family and friends, I've published a total of 13 novels. The split between my books has been divided pretty evenly between Mysteries and Westerns. Work on number 14, is under way.For all those that have taken the time to read my books, I appreciate your interest very much.

Book preview

Retribution Unlimited Story and Cover Illustration By Mike Poppe  Copyright Mike Poppe, 2012 Smashwords Edition,  Revised November, 2014 Retribution Unlimited is a work of fiction.  No resemblance to characters living or dead is intended.  Table of Contents  start 01  Sara Shining Star 02 The Warrior 03  Revenge 04  Rosie 05  Samantha White Owl 06  Mayor Robinson 07  Escape 08  Nancy Browning 09  Wreck 10  Adele 11  Colleen Danby 12  Howard Bailey 13  Pulling Bailey's Chain 14  Tour Of The Park 15  The Flood 16  Trisha Conrad 17  Presentation 18  Hidden Applications 19  Interview 20  Missed Opportunities 21  The Dream 22  Peeping Tom 23  Surprise Victim 24  Holly Watson 25  Birthday Alone 26  Carol 27  The Call 28  Murder So Foul 29  Aftermath Of Death 30  Bailey Pays 31  Patrik 32  Baxter's Visit 33  Chappy 34  A Message From Sam 35  Hanna's Turn 36  Wine For The Mayor 37  The Baxters 38  Waiting 39  The Blanket 40  The Story 41  Wedding Plans 42  Command Dispute 43  The White House 44  Not Jimmy Hoffa 45  Set Free

1. Sara Shining Star

Tony Baxter showered, dressed, and walked back into the bedroom, intending to kiss the girl goodbye. Instead, he lost it when he caught her sniffing cocaine. Ripping the sheet off her naked body, he dumped the rest of the coke on the floor.

How many times do I have to tell you? You don't touch that shit when I'm here. I don't allow no drugged up bitch to be around me on my own time. When I walk out the door, you can OD for all I care, but if I ever catch you using again while I'm here, I'll beat you a lot worse than the last time. Then, I'll throw your ass out on the streets. You got that?

The young girl curled up in a protective ball and sobbed, Please don't hit me Tony. I'm sorry. I needed it.

You needed it, he mocked. I'll tell you what you need. You need this fucking roof over your head, this bed you sleep in, and the food you eat. In case you forgot, I'm the son of a bitch that pays for it all. By the way, the junk you just put up your nose? Who gives it to you free? Me, that's who. That means, either you do as I say, or I'll put your ass on the streets, where you'll have to service every crack head and maniac that comes along.

The girl wiped the tears from her eye and reached up to Baxter.

Tony, she said, I'm sorry. Please kiss me.

Baxter kissed her, then his right hand stretched around her neck and began to squeeze. The girl struggled as he continued to choke her. Seconds before she would have passed out, he released her, and laughed as she fell back on the bed.

After tying his shoes, he looked over at the girl, intending to tell her he would be back tomorrow. He was going to give her a final warning about using drugs around him, but saw it would be a waste of time. The young Blackfoot girl was still lying in bed, already drifting off into her drug induced dream world.

Baxter thought back to the day he first spotted this young Indian beauty, as he was plying his drug trade on the reservation. The very minute his eyes found Sara Shining Star, he knew he would have her, no matter what. His business was trying to get as many of these Indians using Meth, crack cocaine, and heroin as possible anyway. He showered her with expensive gifts, a regular supply of marijuana, then eased her into the hard drugs. In short order she was hooked. The girl found herself unable to do without the drugs he supplied.

Of course, they didn't come free. Tony Baxter never gave anything for nothing. She made her payments to Tony in her bed. Outcast from her family, because of her drug influenced conduct, she now lived in the cabin Baxter provided for her. That was his way of making sure she would always be available when he wanted her. Baxter knew the girl's addiction would eventually rob Sara of her beauty, but he didn't care. There would always be another lovely young girl around to replace her. But for now, Sara Shining Star served his needs just fine. Her beauty was still breath taking, and she was only sixteen.

He strapped on a knife just above the right ankle, dropped a derringer into his pocket, and slipped on a shoulder holster that held a 9mm pistol. Drug dealing was a dangerous business. Tony Baxter had survived and prospered longer than most, because he had the instincts of a wild animal, and was utterly ruthless. After a few years, seldom did anyone dare to compete with his operation. Those who had tried, were dead.

Baxter was a cold blooded killer, without an ounce of mercy for anyone. He was also extremely careful. Everywhere Baxter went, four body guards, all experienced and loyal killers, went with him. His guards made four times what they could get working for anyone else. The big money, along with the endless supply of girls provided by Baxter, ensured their continued loyalty. Those men were outside right now, allowing him to take his pleasure, free of concerns for his safety. Two men were watching his car to protect him against a bombing. The other two guarded the doors to the house, one in front, one in the back. All of them were armed with automatic weapons, and were skilled in hand to hand combat.

As Baxter grabbed the door knob, he looked back for one more look at the girl's lovely body. Her eyes were looking his way, but they were blank. She was already drifting off into her coke induced fantasy world. Soon she would become so desperate for the drugs she would be unable to retain enough mental presence to be able to please him. At that point, he would give her to his body guards as a present. When they tired of her, he would have her sent to work the truck stops as a prostitute. Eventually, she would die from the drugs, or be killed by some crazed maniac.

Tony Baxter didn't care. He already had a few girls picked out as replacements. The names meant nothing to him. They were just temporary pleasure providers. He gave more thought to the waitresses that brought him coffee in the restaurant, than he did these young girls who served him in his bed.

Out of a long established habit, Baxter put his hand on his pistol before he reached for the door knob. Then he carefully opened the door, and stopped for a couple of seconds to allow his eyes to adjust to the night. As they began to focus, he felt a cold chill run down his spine.

The front door guard was laying in a pool of blood. His throat had been cut.

Pulling his pistol, Baxter moved silently around to the east side of the house, then ducked behind the propane tank. His car was still there, as were his guards. The car appeared to be untouched. The guards however, were dead. One of them, much like the front door guard, now lay in a dark pool of blood. The other was on the ground. His neck was broke.

Tony Baxter was nervous, but was a veteran of too many battles to be terrified. With his senses at full alert, he eased around to the back of the house. There was no sign of that guard at all. Then off to his left he heard the guard's voice calling for help. After walking carefully in that direction, Baxter found him. His bodyguard was crawling on his hands and knees, bleeding badly from the eyes. Someone had blinded him by stabbing him in the eyes. Now he was crawling in desperation, calling for help.

Baxter was no longer thinking, but rather operating on the instincts that had served him so well through the years. He assumed the bodyguard had been blinded, and left alive as bait. Baxter had no intention of trying to help his guard. The man had been well paid, and death was an occupational hazard. Focusing on controlling his fear, Baxter bent at the knees, presenting a lower profile, as his eyes searched for his enemies.

Baxter didn't realize his danger lay not in a team of hit men from a competing drug lord, but rather, from a single avenging angel. As Baxter's eyes searched for movement, his enemy was lying on the ground, inches from his feet. In a flash, the attacker struck. Baxter felt a moment of pain, then everything went black.

After being stripped of his weapons, Tony Baxter was gagged, blindfolded, and handcuffed to the tie-downs in the back of a pickup truck. He was covered with a heavy tarp. As he calmly drove away from the scene, the driver knew two Blackfoot men were already entering the house. Arrangements had been made for them to take the girl to a place she would be safe. Three Blackfoot women from the Elder's council, would help Sara Morning Star break her dependence on drugs, regain her pride, and help restore her quality of life.

2. The Warrior

Even after regaining consciousness, Baxter had no idea of where the pickup was headed. It was obviously being driven on primitive roads, or cross country, for his body ached all over, from bouncing around against the hard bed of the pickup.

After what seemed to be a very long time, the truck stopped. He felt the weight of the tarps being removed, then the handcuffs being released from the tie down loops. Without a word being spoken, a strong pair of hands dumped him out the back of the truck, and left him lying there. When his blindfold was finally removed, Baxter saw they were in a part of the reservation he was completely unfamiliar with. There were no buildings. There was not even a road.

When his eyes finally found his enemy, he was stunned. If it were not for his pain, Tony Baxter would have believed it was all a dream. Standing in front of him, was something straight out of the nineteenth century, a tall, muscular Blackfoot warrior in full native dress. His large stoic face was painted for war. Looking into the fierce dark eyes of this warrior, a cold chill ran down Baxter's spine.

Without a word, the Indian pulled a knife and slashed the ropes around Baxter's feet. He pulled him to his feet, and walked him to a dark brown pony. The warrior motioned for him to climb into the saddle. Once there, his handcuffs were removed, and his hands were tied to the saddle horn. His legs were bound to the stirrups with rope.

The Blackfoot warrior's horse was an Appaloosa stud. Like his rider, he had been painted for war. The Indian grabbed the pony's reins and led them off across country. They rode deeper and deeper into wild country, stopping only to rest and water the horses. As the sun rose higher in the sky, the warrior stopped.

To Baxter, nothing about this spot seemed any different from all the rest of the country they had crossed. There seemed to be no particular reason for stopping at this place. Were they going to be met by someone? Had some of his enemies paid this Indian to capture and deliver him?

As Baxter pondered those questions and tried to anticipate what might be in store for him, the Indian released his hands from the saddle horn and untied the ropes around his legs. He grabbed Baxter by the shirt, and threw him off the pony, sending him crashing awkwardly to the ground. The drug dealer was then pulled by his collar to a spot in the clearing where his wrists were tied to his ankles. As Baxter struggled to get into some semblance of a sitting position, the warrior walked over and sat down under a shade tree. He sat in cross legged fashion, quietly staring at his prisoner. For an hour or more, the warrior's only movements were breathing, and an occasional blink of the eye. He stared unrelentingly at Baxter, his cold dark eyes totally absent of emotion. Then he stood, walked over to his prisoner, and kicked him in the face, rendering him unconscious.

3. Revenge

When Baxter came to, he was laying naked on his back. His wrists and ankles were pulled away from his body, and tied securely to stakes driven deep in the ground. To his left, just beyond where his hand was bound to the stake, an old spruce tree trunk lay on the ground, inches from his fingertips.

Once again, the Indian had resumed the sitting position, his eyes locked on his prisoner. Not once since he had been attacked, had this warrior said a word to him. It was driving Baxter crazy.

Damn it, he said to himself, If he would at least speak, I might get some idea of what he wants. Baxter believed given a chance to talk, he could negotiate his release. After all, everybody and everything, had a price.

The Blackfoot warrior stood and walked to his saddle, then untied a deer skin bag from the saddle horn. Walking back, he stopped in front of Baxter. As those dark eyes seemed to pierce the brain of his prisoner, the warrior reached into the bag, and pulled out two pictures. He stepped closer and put them in front of Baxter's eyes.

At that moment, Baxter knew he was going to die, and why. One of the pictures was of Joseph and Martha Blackfeather. The other, of their daughter in law, Samantha. The damn fools had been trying to stop him from selling drugs on the reservation. As if that wasn't enough, they were giving the police every bit of information they could dig up on him. There was no way he could let that go on. Ignore that kind of shit, and pretty soon everybody on the reservation would be a snitch. When the Blackfeather family ignored his warnings, he ordered them killed. One of his men attached a bomb to their truck, and all three died on their way to town.

The warrior stepped back, sat down, and held the pictures facing Baxter. Once again, his dark eyes stared without blinking at his prisoner. Tony Baxter made a desperate resolve to shake off his fear. His only hope was to think clearly. He had been in tight places before, and found ways to talk himself out of danger. He looked at his attacker, and began talking.

He tried to explained his decision to kill those people had just been business. He had nothing against them, except they were trying to take away his livelihood. He offered the warrior large sums of money if he would release him. In addition to the money he promised the warrior, he offered a million dollars to the Blackfoot tribe, and swore he would never again sell drugs in Montana.

After perhaps fifteen minutes, the blank faced warrior rose to his feet, walked over behind a tree and returned with a bucket and brush in his hand. He took the brush and dipped it into the bucket, then he began to swab the sweet, honey like substance all over Baxter's face. He pushed it into his mouth, into his nostrils, eyes, and ears. Then he poured it all over Baxter's groin, including his testicles.

With his silence still unbroken, the Blackfoot warrior built a fire, and dropped the bucket into the flames, destroying any fingerprints. Then he mounted his horse, grabbed his rope and threw a loop around a broken tree limb on the tree trunk that lay alongside Baxter. Pulling the loop tight, he signaled the Appaloosa with his knees, and the downed tree trunk slid away from Baxter.

With his eyes now wide open in terror, Baxter not only knew he was going to die, and why, but now knew his manner of death. The tree trunk had kept hidden a series of ant hills, no more than six feet away from Baxter. Breathing became difficult as he watched the ants catch the smell of the sweet substance, and start moving like a flood in his direction. He looked in desperation at the warrior, who had now returned and sat just a few feet from him. The Blackfoot warrior's face as was unrelenting as a slab of granite.

The warrior stood, walked over to his pack, and returned with a piece of paper and a pen. On the paper was a typewritten confession to the killings of Samantha, Joseph, and Martha Black feather.

Baxter asked, If I sign this, will you stop the ants?

The warrior nodded to indicate his agreement.

Baxter shouted, I'll sign! Give me the goddamn paper. I'll sign it!

The warrior untied his right hand, watched as he signed, then quickly forced the hand back down and retied it to the stake.

Baxter, realizing he had been betrayed, looked at the warrior and screamed.

You promised! I thought you stinking Indians were supposed to be men of your word. You promised to save me! You fucking promised!

The warrior sat back down, stared into Baxter's eyes, and smiled.

Baxter watched in horror as tens of thousands, perhaps millions, of red ants moved closer and closer. Whatever remnants of his courage remained, now began to melt away.

The warrior watched, as Baxter's body began to tremble and shake as thousands of ants crawled over him.

The drug lord begged for mercy, as they invaded his ears, nose, and his mouth.

He began to cry like a baby, as he felt the ants feeding on his eyeballs.

Soon his cries for help turned into screams, as the ants began to feed on his testicles.

When the ants eventually their way into his skull and began to eat his brain, Baxter's screams were no longer those of a human being. All that was left now, was a wounded animal. As the hours passed, the warrior continued to sit cross legged staring at what used to be a human being. He sat stone faced, listening to the sounds of the drug dealer's moans and mindless whimpers. Several hours passed before death finally brought Tony Baxter relief from his nightmare.

The warrior built a fire, and using the blanket from his horse, sent smoke into the sky. Minutes after those puffs of smoke went up, the reservation police received a phone call. As the warrior saddled up and rode away, an unidentified woman's voice informed the reservation police that drug lord Tony Baxter was dead. She gave them only the general area where his body could be found, then disconnected the call.

By the time a car was dispatched to the scene, the warrior was riding down the middle of a gravel bottomed stream flowing down out of the foothills. Two miles downstream as planned, he left the stream on a rocky point, leaving no tracks. In a few hours, he would be at his destination, with nothing left behind to offer the slightest bit of evidence that he had been anywhere near Baxter when he met his demise.

4. Rosie

Rosie! Get off your ass. You've got business coming.

Acting on Al's warning, Rosie looked out the front window and saw a man step out of a Chevy Silverado. After closing the door, he took a good look around before starting to walk in their direction. She unbuttoned the top three buttons on her blouse. She wasn't wearing a bra. She turned and yelled back at the bartender. O.K. Al, I'm ready.

As the stranger opened the door and walked inside, Rosie decided that other than being a little better looking, he wasn't much different from most of the cowboys that stopped in from time to time. She decided he must be at least six feet tall, and probably weighed close to two hundred pounds.

He paused just inside the door to look around, before proceeding any further. Two old men sitting in the back corner, looked up to satisfy their curiosity, then went back to their checker game. Other than the waitress and the bartender, they were the only people in the place.

The stranger walked slowly over to the first booth and sat down facing the door. As Rosie walked toward him, he noticed her long, dirty blonde hair. He guessed years ago, she had been a looker, but life had been hard. Now she depended on dim lights and large amounts of alcohol to attract men.

She dropped a menu on the table.

Howdy stranger. You hungry or thirsty? she asked.

His eyes finished examining the room before he answered.

I do believe I'm a little hungry. How about some prime rib, baked potato, and a bottle of your finest champagne?

Rosie eyed him closely, trying to figure out if he was serious or just being a wise guy. Sorry, we ain't got none of that.

Well, how about a cheeseburger with mustard, fries, and a Dr. Pepper?