Alien Savvy

By Joyce Reynolds-Ward

When Hank Martin runs into a strange disk complete with little gray men while herding cattle in remote Ogden County, Oregon during the Cuban Missile Crisis, he has to wonder if he's going crazy or if the Russians are invading. Together with his talented cowhorse, Missy, and the support of his wife and local ranchers, Hank is determined to get those cattle rounded up, no matter if aliens, Russians, or weird Air Force bureaucrats want to stop him. Will he succeed before he loses all of his cattle, which would mean the death of his dreams to raise champion cowhorses?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Joyce Reynolds-Ward
• Release date: Mar 16, 2016
• ISBN: 9781519974631

Joyce Reynolds-Ward

Joyce Reynolds-Ward splits her time between Portland and Enterprise, Oregon. A former special education teacher, Joyce also enjoys horses, skiing, and other outdoor activities. She's had short stories and essays published in First Contact Café, Tales from an Alien Campfire, River, How Beer Saved the World 1 and 2, Fantasy Scroll Magazine, and Trust and Treachery. Her novels Netwalk: Expanded Edition, Netwalker Uprising, Life in the Shadows: Diana and Will, Netwalk’s Children, and Alien Savvy as well as other works are available through Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Google Play, and other sources. Alien Savvy is also available in audiobook through Audible, Amazon, and iTunes. Follow Joyce's adventures through her blog, Peak Amygdala, at www.joycereynoldsward.com, or through her LiveJournal at joycemocha. Joyce’s Amazon Central page is located at http://www.amazon.com/Joyce-Reynolds-Ward/e/B00HIP821Y.

Book preview

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

Alien Savvy © 2014 by Joyce Reynolds-Ward. All Rights Reserved.

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Distribution is handled by the author, and all requests for redistribution should be pointed to the author.

Remembrance

October 20, 2000

Damn it. Dan Branson gave up the struggle with the stubborn computer and pushed himself away from his desk. Groaning as he stood and stretched, he hobbled over to the window to stare at the Bucket Mountains, rubbing his aching back. Aging didn’t get any easier. Maybe it was a good thing he was counting down the days to retirement.

The distinct sharp clack of high heels instead of cowboy boots echoed down the wooden floors outside of his office. He ignored them as he gazed at the mountains. Probably someone going to the current sheriff’s office next door. The clear white light of late fall made the peaks stand out against the sky. Soon it would be time for elk hunting. This year he could hunt the whole season all day if he desired. Or not. After forty-some years patrolling Ogden County, there were too many places that held memories he’d just as soon avoid.

Two light taps on his door. He sighed. Who could this be? Someone wanting more retirement paperwork?

Come in.

I hope I’m not disturbing you. The white-haired woman in the doorway smiled tentatively at Dan.

He hustled across the room to take her hand. Not at all. She looked familiar but he couldn’t place her. Not someone he’d seen for a while. What can I do for you? He couldn’t remember where he had seen her last but he knew her, knew that lean, elegant face. Tall, still carrying herself straight, lean and lanky frame with a dark tan and the lined face of a ranchwoman. She wore neatly pressed jeans, open-toed heels, and a stylish blouse. She was someone who hadn’t been in the County for a few years. Who was she?

It’s been a while. She glanced around his office. I see you’re packing up. I’d have thought you would have retired already. I’m glad you’re still here, made it easier to find you. How’s Marie?

The lilt in her voice finally helped him place her. Janice Martin. She and her husband Hank had handed over the ranch to the kids ten years ago and gone traveling. That accounted for the changes.

Marie’s chugging along just fine. She’s busy herding grandkids for Krista. How’s Hank?

Her face tightened. That’s why I’m here.

Oh? He gestured to a chair. Sit down. I’ll get you something to drink.

Janice shook her head. I’m on my way to the ranch. She paused, swallowing hard. Hank died three months ago. Colon cancer.

Damn, Janice, I’m sorry to hear it. They’d lost contact over the years once the Martins had turned their ranch over to the kids and gone traveling, but then again, after the events of forty years ago, he couldn’t exactly blame Hank for letting the contact fade. Is there anything I can do?

She fumbled in her shoulder bag and brought out a thick manila envelope. Hank wanted you to have this. After—the incident—with Pete’s daughter-in-law, he didn’t think this would be safe with anyone else.

Cold prickles ran up his arms. You sure about this?

She nodded. Hank said you’d know what to do. She held the envelope out. He took it, feeling the weight. What is it?

Hank kept notes on that incident.

Just what he thought it was. He inhaled, staring down at it. I—I don’t know what to say, Janice.

Hank liked reading your stories and books. He thought you might be able to do something with this memoir. For the first time a faint smile twitched her lips before fading. No obligation.

Can I at least buy you a cup of coffee?

Janice shook her head. I need to get to the ranch. She coughed, deep and racking. I start my chemo next week, and there’s some things I need to make sure that Elaine and John get together before that happens. Finishing things off.

Marie will have my hide if you don’t stop by.

Another faint smile. I’ll do my best. I need to go, Dan. Good to see you. She turned and walked out the door, still tall and straight, still proud.

Dan closed the door after her. He dropped into his chair and looked at the envelope. He didn’t need to open it to remember what had happened forty years ago.

Encounter

October 17, 1962

Damn, but it felt good to be riding along the canyon bottoms on a good horse again. Hank Martin relaxed in the saddle, thinking about driving cattle down Cook Canyon toward the river pasture at the canyon’s mouth. So far it was a perfect fall day. His buckskin mare Missy carried the bit delicately, mouthing it so that the reins in his left hand vibrated like a living thing. She strode along in the smooth four beat gait of a working cowhorse’s purposeful walk. A shift of weight and she’d turn one way or another, almost like she was reading his mind. Rustles in the brush caught her attention and she slowed, ears pricked, then relaxed as a muley doe bounded up the side of the canyon. Not a cow; not her job to worry about. Missy was everything Hank Martin had wanted in a cowhorse mare, well worth every penny he had spent on her. Today she knew her job was cows and he could tell she wanted to find them as much as he did.

Hank drew in a deep breath of fresh air, savoring it after five years away from Ogden County. Nothing smelled quite like the mix of pine and sagebrush in the rugged mountains of Northeastern Oregon. He’d traveled the country with the Army but here, here in the high mountains and deep river canyons, was where he belonged, on top of his sweet little mare. The late afternoon breeze whispered through the tall Ponderosa pines higher up on the canyon wall while the high-skittering clouds above made patterns of shadows and daylight dance along the deep bottom. Here everything was timeless and peaceful. He could put the unsettling news he’d heard on the radio this morning behind him, for the moment forget worrying about whether he’d be called back into service based on the rumors that the Russians had placed missiles in Cuba.

Damn Cubans and damn Russkies, he muttered to Missy. Anything happens, it’ll probably be too fast for them to call me up. He hoped he was right.

Missy flicked one ear back, then forward. She was focusing on noises in the brush as well as the hind ends of