Legacy Of The General - Part 2: A Reluctant White Knight, #4

By T.W. Anderson

Legacy Of The General - Part 2 - A Reluctant White Knight novel - Volume 4
Reviewed by: Editorial Board, The Columbia Review of Books and Films

"Legacy of the General," the fourth installment in T.W. Anderson's "A Reluctant White Knight" series, pulls the hero, Tom Rowter, and his wife, Sunny, into a complicated conflict between powerful forces and launches them on a hazardous mission to fulfill the last wish of an admired friend (i.e., the General).

 

Some time ago, when reviewing the first volume in T.W. Anderson's "A Reluctant White Knight" series, we had this to say: "It combines the best ingredients of the "Texas Rangers" genre fiction, but with highly contemporary suspense, which is further enriched with themes of green energy, aviation and technology. The lead character, Tom Rowter, is a solid anti-hero, a toned-down version of Clint Eastwood at his best. He tells the story in the first person, matter of fact, no hype or showoff (well, maybe a reserved touch of bravado…). He's cool, aggressive (or even deadly, when necessary), and delivers it all with humor. He clearly has a big heart, which carries a good chunk of pain and guilt, and he can handle a gun. In other words, he's a good character, someone you would definitely want to spend more time with, literarily speaking."

 

With the fourth novel in the series, Mr. Anderson maintains the remarkable qualities of his creation, while fleshing out the main characters, expanding the family circle, and revealing new aspects of this evolving saga.

 

"Legacy of the General" picks up a short time after the events of "Seascape's Aground!" (Vol. 3). The story begins with a few scenes that give the reader—even a new reader—a sure footing in what's happening in the lives of Tom and Sunny. Meanwhile, a mysterious outfit gears up to take violent action in order to pilfer possession of 'an item," which happened to be on its way to Tom posthaste, courtesy of his now-deceased friend. Soon, the suspense rises and bad things start to happen.

 

Mixing in the successful ingredients that made the previous volumes so enjoyable, the author adds in legal wrangling, government conspiracies, IRS and CIA shenanigans, a former U.S. president, and a good measure of sprightly romance and lively action. As before, Tom Rowter, with the conflicted yet incredibly gutsy Sunny, is determined to do the right thing, come hell or high water—or such other bad things as one might expect, either on the ground or in the air.

 

In summary, "Legacy of the General" fulfills the promise of the series, delivering an authentic setting and great action with a lively cast of flesh-and-blood characters, engaged in real-world relationships and embroiled in a risky crisis that gets resolved through the hero's courage, integrity, and thrilling exploits. The ending, when it comes, is surprising and satisfying. Highly recommended!

 

The Editorial Board of The Columbia Review selects new books and films of interest, as well as sponsored submissions from authors, publishers, directors, agents and producers. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: T.W. Anderson
• Release date: Mar 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215059920

T.W. Anderson

Terrance W Anderson, or “T.W.” as he prefers to be called, has over five decades of senior business management experience. When he can get away both he and his wife love to travel or idle around and fish the area’s surrounding lakes in their boat. T.W. has also been an avid pilot since youth and holds a number of advanced pilot ratings. T.W.’s writing was born out of a frustration with the lack, at the time, of Christian authors writing modern, relatable suspense and romance novels. It seemed like all the best selling books had language in them that not only offended him, but he was embarrassed that the person beside him glancing over his shoulder might also be offended by it. On one long business trip, while relaxing beside the inlet at Marina Del Rey he dug out his laptop and started typing out notes about his past aviation and life experiences. That led him to start adding a measure of “What if” to the writings. Before long he had a story line in mind and Tom Rowter came alive on the pages of the “A Reluctant White Knight” novel series. Being of retirement age himself, the author makes his books hero of a similar age thusly giving us an adventure and romance from a mature individual, and then couple’s point of view. Many readers, tired of reading about the limitless energy of some young stud and his vixen, will be able to relate to the aches, pains and limitations of this series' hero and heroine having a few years on them, yet being truly in love. T.W. tries to show his characters as true to real life as possible. His main characters may be courageous but they aren’t super heroes. They have their weaknesses and failures like we all do and they reflect his personal faith and Christian beliefs. The action and problems that come to life in the pages are right out of everyday events. And the romances are as complicated as life truly plays out. In story development he uses not only his own past experiences but the counsel of friends he’s developed in other fields of aviation, international business and real estate, journalism as well as various local, state and federal law enforcement organizations.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

This is Control, the phone call is answered.

Team Eight, reporting in, says the male voice on the other end of the line.

Proceed, Control responds and the caller can sense that Control is already in a bad mood. His report isn’t going to help matters.

Sir, we sterilized the place, but we found nothing. No one has been in the place since the subject left for Mexico. We verified that from his alarm system. We, of course, erased the system’s logs then. No personal computer. No answering machine. Actually, no landline. No mail delivered to the place. Our agent contacted the post office, posing as an IRS agent, and found none on hold for the address. That’s weird. Not even any junk mail. How did he arrange that? the caller makes the mistake of asking and then wishes he could retract that last comment.

If you and your team knew what you were doing, you would know how he arranged that. He erased the street address from the U.S. Post Office database. But did you find his hiding place? Control demands.

No, sir. We x-rayed every wall, every inch of floor, the entire ceiling. Nothing. If he had anything, he didn’t keep it there, the caller insists.

You missed something. Don’t let anybody in that place until you find it, Control orders.

Sir, it’s too late. Civilians entered the place as soon as we left. Five minutes earlier and they would have interrupted us, the caller hesitantly adds.

One screw-up after another. I told everyone I wanted that place secured until further orders. What the hell were the civilians doing there? Control asks.

They boxed up and removed all the personal items. We don’t care about that. We checked every seam on every piece of clothing. In all the containers, like the toothpaste tube, even the kitchen items like cooking oil, seasonings. Nothing, the agent assures his boss.

Then? Control says, impatiently.

Then they cleaned the place, straightened things out and took a bunch of pictures. I think they were staging it to sell it, sir, the agent says hesitantly.

All the agent can hear on the line with Control after that is cursing a blue streak and threats about what will happen if his team doesn’t get control of the place. Control gives them strict orders to buy it if they have to. But under no condition is anyone to enter that place unless his team has ears and eyes in there. If someone gets in there and finds something they should have found, the whole team is going to suffer the consequences.

The caller hangs up and turns to his team. He doesn’t have to brief them on the call. They have been monitoring it. They look at each other and then each gets on a secure phone line and starts making arrangements to get the situation back under control.

CHAPTER 2

After my back surgery, and the fast-paced circumstances surrounding Bill’s kidnapping and release, it feels good to get back to the ranch. Back home where we can control our daily lives, or as much as God lets us believe we are in control.

Woody Allen once said, If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans.

Our ranch doctor and I end up getting on each other’s nerves. She wants me to take my recovery slow and I want to run, or at least move faster than she feels is safe. But, as in most situations I’ve faced, I find a way to make our pretty little doctor, my daughter-in-law, put up with my bad behavior and pushing. In fact, she is actually the one who started to train me to jog for the first time in my life. She figures, if I am going to do it anyway, she should at least make sure I train right.

I have never previously wanted to run. At least not since I was a kid. As an adult, most of the time when I did run it was because I was trying to keep either me or someone I loved from getting hurt. Now I am committed to get back into shape. And running, after spending months in a wheelchair, is just something I feel I have to do. It doesn’t matter to me one bit how old I am. I’ve read about guys who had passed 70, even 80, years old and took up running.

My wife, Sunny, was a runner back in college, many moons ago. But her thing the last couple of decades has been speed walking. Now I try to get her to participate in my afternoon jog, but she declines and goes for her power walk.

One thing our ranch doctor laid down the law about is I am not to run alone. Lucy went as far as to put out an all-ranch email that threatened anyone not cooperating. She organizes a sign-up calendar and I am surprised by the ranch workers and my own family that sign up each day to accompany me.

From cowhands I have only met a couple of times during ranch family events to the younger college-, and even high-school-, age kids of the ranch workers, there is always someone at the hacienda door at 4:30 p.m. sharp to fetch me and take me on their favorite running course. Together with those volunteers, I have gotten to explore parts of the ranch I have not even been to in the year and some I have lived here.

I do have to apologize. I failed to introduce myself. I’m Tom Rowter. And I’ve left a lot of information out for those who haven’t followed Sunny and my lives to this point. Let me see if I can give you a quick catch-up.

CHAPTER 3

Sunny and I met when she was being accosted by a couple of red necks. It was just in my nature that I had to stop and help someone in distress in the middle of West Texas cattle country. It just kind of made up my mind a little quicker when it was a good-looking woman being held against her bright red Corvette convertible by a couple of goons who had just busted my windshield with a full beer can. That’s where Sunny started calling me her White Knight.

Not being a thrill seeker, I kidded with her that I was a Reluctant White Knight.

After I rescued her, her dad, Dusty Roapes, asked me to go along with her on a business trip just so she didn’t end up flying solo into a conference room full of government bureaucrats. I didn’t have anything else demanding my time and my Jeep was out of commission until the windshield was fixed, so why not? After all, they were offering their western hospitality and I was enjoying the break in my trip to nowhere in particular.

It was an interesting trip. I got to ride in the ranch’s business jet, which rekindled the love of flying I’d had since I was a kid. I spent a couple of nights on a beautiful yacht, treated like a royal guest by a great crew. I played bad-boy assistant to a good-looking business woman at the meetings. I got to walk on the beach with that woman and literally jumped her. Not in the way you might be thinking. I mean I had to protect her from some bad guys, which entailed first tackling her. But it didn’t do much good. They got her anyway. And I wound up with a knot on my head for my troubles. But she and I worked together to get out of that mess. And I think that was what started each of us really thinking about the other.

I didn’t want to fall in love with her. I was still mourning my wife’s death. And she hadn’t had a love in her life for more than a decade. But somehow it happened, and once we were honest with each other, the rest was a whirlwind. A short courtship, a big family wedding on the ranch, and a fantastic honeymoon all within a month.

Then it was time to get down to business. After long talks with my new wife and her dad, as well as her boys because they were the heirs to the ranch, we all decided that, rather than take one job running one part of the business, I would act as the third vote in their family board of directors. And my indoctrination into all the various ranch holdings and businesses was a whirlwind as well.

I met a former U.S. president. There was a mountain lion hunt. Lots of flying around the country on business. A side trip for the government for an old acquaintance that put a wall up between my wife and me for a while. The Navajo Nation rewarded me with a Navajo name. Then my pretty wife bought me a very special present to fulfill a lifelong dream. And then finagled a way for me to partner with her on an investment that was fun to fly as well as useful. Well, as useful as a seaplane can be on a West Texas cattle ranch. You had to have been there and kept up with us after we got the darn thing.

That plane, named Ducky, saved my life. A drug dealer decided to take the women in my and Dusty’s lives. And we had to take desperate chances to get them back using that plane as a diversion. While doing so I was shot four times. Dusty and Sunny used the plane to get me to care quickly or I would have been a goner. Turns out three of the wounds healed easily. But the fourth was a bullet, lodged next to my spine that paralyzed my legs.

I spent months in physical therapy trying to get the use of my legs back, but it was no good. With that bullet against my spine nothing was going to change. And no one would risk trying to take it out for fear my paralysis would be permanent if something went wrong. After being a royal pain in the butt with the whole family, it took the courage for me to be honest with a good friend from the past to finally come to the decision to roll the dice and get the bullet out. That friend was wheelchair bound himself, but still a great surgeon. He got my head screwed back on straight first. Then, knowing the surgery would either fix the problem or make it permanent, we, as a family, went ahead with my operation.

As you can tell by the beginning of my story, it worked. And I owe my new life to that surgeon, and to the support of that big family that Sunny and I blended together.

So where do I go from here?

CHAPTER 4

I took up jogging and it helped me lose those 40 extra pounds I had packed on since deciding not to be an alcoholic bum. I admit I am going a little overboard, however.

In the morning I get up about the time my father-in-law is first stirring to go check his cattle and I go next door to the building we had built as a fitness center. There I put a heart monitor on to keep the ranch doctor from having to get up to watch over me. Then I go through the seven different exercise machines we have set up for a good workout. It doesn’t take long after I first start to get back into the fun of challenging myself with more weight or more reps. It is really a ball if one of our boys is staying overnight at the ranch and will come to the center to spot me on weights. They think I don’t know that our ranch doctor and my wife have pushed the boys into taking turns to make sure I am not doing anything that will risk getting me hurt. But our sessions usually ended up in some sort of macho contest to do more until the boys will have to get me to stop trying to keep up with their pace. They are, after all, more than a couple of decades younger.

After my morning workout, I get back to the hacienda just about the time my gorgeous wife finishes her morning primping. It isn’t like she’s a diva or high maintenance, but she likes to get a little dolled up for me and her family. And she doesn’t do that in five minutes like my morning routine takes me, since I grew a beard. We finish up about the same time and head to the kitchen for breakfast.

Even before I got back on my feet, our housekeeper, Rosa, had a hard time understanding why I had to give up the bacon and biscuits and gravy. But once she understood how important it was to me to slim down and get back in shape, she cooperated. Within the first couple of months, she actually started getting creative with the breakfast meal with various fresh fruit dishes. She’d use the egg substitute I asked for and make things delicious and yet healthy. No one dared say a thing about it—yet—but we all knew she was working on slimming down too. I’ve seen her going into the fitness center after morning dishes are done. And after her workout, she bounces around the house while cleaning.

Her energy is up and she is slimming down. But we are waiting until she says something to us about it before we say anything to her.

Rumor from our daughters is that Charlie, the ranch foreman, is getting a friskier wife out of the deal and that makes his attitude a whole lot better too.

Dusty will usually join us for breakfast. In that way he can take a break from his morning rounds and chores, as well as brief us on what he’d like us to help him with that day. Usually, it is some business that can be handled over the phone. Sunny and I will split up the workload and make the calls. Other times it might be a quick out-and-back business trip to one of the ranch holding companies. If it is going to be an overnight trip for either of us, we usually figured out how to make it a trip as a couple.

My wife had experienced early in our marriage that, when I left home without her, I somehow usually ended up sticking my neck out to help someone else. It was one of those things about my personality that was instrumental in us meeting one another and in falling in love. But it also caused her more than a couple of sleepless nights. She figured out that she needs to travel with me. When we travel together, we are inseparable. But I will not let her get in harm’s way if I have any control over the situation. So, if she sticks close to me, she figures, it is a pretty safe bet that I won’t be getting us both into a dangerous situation.

She’s pretty smart. So far in our married life it hasn’t always worked. But who knows what trouble she has kept me out of by sharing my daily life with me?

On the ranch we will split up the chores Dusty assigns to us and make the work go faster. That usually means by lunch we have the day pretty much under control. After a light lunch with our family patriarch, Sunny and I will scheme on what to do for the afternoon.

In nice weather it is common for us to saddle Sunny’s big white mare and my paint and head out to a part of the ranch to supposedly ride the fence. Although we will check the fence for needed repairs, our real motivation in riding together is to just spend time together. We will talk about what’s happening with the five boys, their wives and our grandkids. Or what the latest plans are for the wedding of Dusty and his fiancée, Federal Judge Patricia Charing. Or we might go an hour without saying a word. Perhaps a nod in the direction of a wandering critter or bird. A finger pointed toward the mountain scenery or the sky. Sometimes the silence and just listening to the breeze through the meadow is all we need.

We have fallen into a routine on our rides that about mid-afternoon we’ll stop under one of the big oak trees and dig a snack out of our saddlebags. If we plan on sticking around the hacienda for the rest of the day, it isn’t unusual for me to bring along a bottle of wine from the cases I bought at our friend’s vineyard out in California. If we are going to be driving or flying anywhere that afternoon or evening, we’ll tame it down to a cold bottle of water. But we’ll also share fruit, cheese and crackers.

After our break I will usually be challenged to a horserace by my bride and she always wins. That is except those few times she lets me win. But that is okay. The sight of her galloping off on that big white mare of hers is worthy of a good-hearted chase.

If the afternoon is too chilly for a horse ride, we’ll take Dusty’s old Humvee or our Jeep for our fence ride. If it is too hot to be out, we’ll leave the fence inspection to the cowhands that do it daily, even before we do it. Instead, we’ll lie around the pool and swim, or spend the afternoon chatting with ranch workers in the mercantile store.

Life is good and yet we get our work done. We keep the ranch business coming in and keep our 100-ranchhand family gainfully employed.

CHAPTER 5

Dr. Rineholt Grant, Rinny, is the brilliant surgeon and psychologist that got me out of my lousy attitude first, then he discovered that my gunshot wound was operable. He forecast that its removal would allow me to regain use of my legs.

He was absolutely right. I owe my renewed life to him.

When I was released from the hospital, I made Rinny and his wife, Cindy, promise to come back to the ranch soon. I was honest with him that I not only looked forward to their company, but our ranch doctor, my daughter-in-law and the District Attorney’s wife, Lucy, had been at my bedside almost 24/7 since I was shot. I rarely awoke to have her far from me. Between her and my wife, they tended, not only to my broken body, but my horrible attitude. I wanted to do something special for her and her husband as soon as Rinny could spare the time to fill in for her.

I promised Rinny he wouldn’t have to do any of Lucy’s veterinarian duties. We had a local vet that could pinch hit for Lucy on those things. He just needed to watch over the ranch families and their scrapes and bruises.

Rinny came down for a couple of weeks and that first week we sent Lucy and Joe to Tuscany, Italy for a romantic and relaxing vacation. They came back like a newlywed couple and managed to thoroughly gross out their teenage kids. I could tell it was just what the doctor needed, but would have never ordered for herself.

Now in the second week with our guests, they join us as Sunny and I fly them to Galveston to spend time on the family yacht, SeaScape. I have checked with Ed, our yacht captain, to make sure Rinny’s wheelchair and service dog will not have any problems onboard. Luckily the yacht is big enough that it has been designed with passageways and doorways wide enough to meet ADA standards, had that been required when she was built. Rinny might be restricted to just the main deck. But the main deck is where all the accommodations, salon, galley, and even the hot tub are located. The restrooms are already equipped with grab bars because sometimes at sea a person needs to hang on. The same is true of the passageways.

Ed put artificial turf on the yacht’s aft swim deck/boat launching deck. It will work for walking the service dog and then can be removed after our visit.

We take the ranch business jet for this journey and Sunny flies us all to Galveston. Rinny, as a fellow pilot, enjoys asking Sunny and me all sorts of questions during the flight. It seems like in no time we have covered the distance from the ranch to the Gulf of Mexico and we are ready to start the approach to the airport. At the airport flight service, we rent a sedan to head to the marina. Ed and the boat’s crew are standing by in their crisp white uniforms when we arrive. They greet us and Sunny introduces everyone. The crew takes our luggage up the gangway and Ed pushes Rinny’s chair up the inclined gangway ramp while crewmember Wendy leads the ladies aboard. I follow the group up the gangway slowly, as my legs are still in training and the incline of the gangway poses a little bit of a challenge, which only serves to remind me how blessed I am to get the use of my legs back.

Once aboard, our guests have the run of the ship. We all retire to our cabins to change into bathing suits and meet on the aft deck to hit the hot tub. Rinny is able to crawl up the steps to the hot tub and lower himself in by the knotted rope our captain has added over the tub. We enjoy margaritas and talking and relaxing in the bubbling caldron.

Wendy comes by after an hour and orders everyone out before we all melt into puddles. She announces dinner will be served in the main salon in one hour.

When we return to our cabin, Sunny surprises me. She wants some time to just ourselves before dinner. I, of course, am glad to accommodate her. We waste so much time making out that when we finally come to our senses, we only have time to rinse off quickly. Sunny winds up putting on a sailor’s hat instead of fixing her hair. But she combines it with a horizontally striped nautical blouse and white shorts and manages to make it look like a style she intended to pull off.

For dinner in the salon, I purposely ask our crew to join us. I want our guests to meet them on a more personal basis. And I, too, want to spend time with them.

I had not been able to attend Captain Andrew Tobias’ funeral. It was performed while I was still in a coma induced during my hospitalization for the gunshot wounds. Sunny had attended the funeral, but only flying in and then back out that same day. She didn’t get to spend more than an hour with the crew because she was intent on getting back to my bedside.

This trip is our chance to spend some one-on-one time with each crew member, and if necessary, bring Rinny’s psychology expertise to them.

I don’t bring it up during our dinner and instead keep the conversation light and concentrated on how their lives have been since that horrible trip. But there is an uncomfortable undertone to the evening that seems to smolder like the embers of a fire that has not completely burnt out and is just waiting for a flash point.

CHAPTER 6

I get up a little too fast to make a toast and almost topple out of my chair. Sunny on one side of me and our deck hand, David, on the other, quickly grab me and steady me to my feet.

Sorry, folks. Still trying to train my legs to do what my brain is telling them, I quip.

Wendy bursts out in tears and jumps from her chair, causing it to fall to the floor with a clatter behind our guests. She runs from the room openly sobbing. Our deckhand, Jeremy, runs after her. Ed, our former purser now captain, and David, the other deck hand, sit there looking at each other as if they don’t know what to do next. I stand there looking like an idiot with my wine glass raised throughout the entire ruckus. Sunny finally tugs on my trouser pocket to encourage me to take my seat again.

Well. It appears I have some work to do here, my friend the psychologist comments and asks Ed, Would you ask Wendy and Jeremy to rejoin us so that we might talk out how you feel about your misadventure? I think we need a group session to start and from there I’ll determine if individual sessions might be in order.

Ed nods