Behind the Gates of Scrape Ridge Shores

By James D. Applegate

The end of times appears to be close for America and, for that matter, the world. The year is 2027, and things are out of control. Human trafficking is virtually ignored, while racial division is fueled by the media and the great influencers. Even churches have fallen asleep while trying to stay relevant in a woke world. The United Revival Party is a specialized group, wanting to save the world, but can they really be trusted?

"America, the melting pot, is about to boil over," and you, the reader, have to decide who can possibly save it if anyone. If you think for one minute that this book can be depicted in two paragraphs, you're wrong. This book is woven together with many stories, one or more, that will touch you personally. Put away your bookmark, you're not going to need it.

If you're looking for a book to read a little here, and a little there, this is not it. You won't be able to put it down. Behind the Gates of Scrape Ridge Shores is a riveting tale of mistakes, secret societies, and redemption. Mary Simpson - Educator

This story is power packed! I have seldom read a book so gripping that brought me to tears in an instant and laughter in the next moment. This brought light to so many topics I was formerly in the dark on. A definite read for those whose strive for truth. Artistic Collections LLC

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798889430858

Book preview

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Behind the Gates of Scrape Ridge Shores

James D. Applegate

ISBN 979-8-88943-084-1 (paperback)

ISBN 979-8-89130-965-4 (hardcover)

ISBN 979-8-88943-085-8 (digital)

Copyright © 2023 by James D. Applegate

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Dedications are so hard to do, as you will inevitably leave someone important out. So, first let me thank God, my wife, friends and my family, who love me and believe in me.

As for the dedication part, I want to spot-light a special group of people, who I call warriors. Those who have lived through the torment of abuse, and somehow came out the other side. You are special and remarkable. You conquered your past, and now, you have a special gift to share with others, yet to do the same.

I dedicate my book to all the broken children, past, present and future, and to those special warriors, who help put them back together again.

Chapter 1

Prepped and Prepared

Chapter 2

Cold and Harsh

Chapter 3

On the Edge of Two Storms

Chapter 4

Notables and Valuables

Chapter 5

Moving during a Meltdown

Chapter 6

The Brick Slayer

Chapter 7

The Cue Stick

Chapter 8

Welcome to the Real World

Chapter 9

The Deleter and the Deleted

Chapter 10

One Match

Chapter 11

The Script

Chapter 12

The Darkness Revealed

Chapter 13

The Women in the Watchtower

Chapter 14

Tunnel of Tears

Chapter 15

Fat Mario's Fine Wine

Chapter 16

The Fall from Not Standing

Chapter 17

William Gets Help

Chapter 18

Revelations

Chapter 19

Truth and Enlightenment

Chapter 20

Discovering Who the Elite Really Are

Chapter 21

Last-Minute Deals

About the Author

Preface

Dedications are so hard to do, as you will inevitably leave someone important out. So, first let me thank God, my wife, friends and my family, who love me and believe in me.

As for the dedication part, I want to spot-light a special group of people, who I call warriors. Those who have lived through the torment of abuse, and somehow came out the other side. You are special and remarkable. You conquered your past, and now, you have a special gift to share with others, yet to do the same.

I dedicate my book to all the broken children, past, present and future, and to those special warriors, who help put them back together again.

Chapter 1

Prepped and Prepared

As a child, Sommer Youngman grew up along the banks of Montana's Blackfoot River. It literally outlined his backyard. A constant flow of emerald green lapping upon the edges of the grassy shore. To the front, a view of Gray Wolf Meadows, and beyond that, the Painted Forest. Sommer and his siblings were raised on the same land as their father and his father. Their Native American heritage was monumental in surviving off the grid and on the reservation.

The Youngman's house was a rather crude structure yet built solid enough to withstand the harsh winters of the Blackfoot Valley. It was not uncommon to have snowfall that buried the first floor. Sommer remembered how the second story had a door that normally opened to a dangerous fall. In the brutalist months of winter, though, snowpack made this the home's front door. Digging out and digging in was a way of life for at least three months out of the year.

A twice-a-day trek to the barn was not an option. Horses needed feed, eggs needed to be gathered, and all before sunrise and again at sunset. On one occasion, a blizzard had both father and son trapped barn-side until the following morning. Later in life, Sommer looked nostalgically back upon that night, as the single best memory from his childhood. There were no siblings after all, fighting for his father's limited attention. It was just the two of them, huddled up tight, next to the barn's little wood-burning stove. Stories were told into the wee hours of that night. They started out light and funny and then became quite sad. Sommer remembered hearing stories that even made him cry. Whatever was in the bottle, retrieved from the rafters of the barn that night, only made his father speak easy. Stories were told, the kind which get told only once and then never ever again.

The weathered planks that cradled the Youngman home provided the same strength of when they were trees—alder, black willow, hickory, butternut, and pine. The home grew, as each of the three boys and three girls came to be. Most rooms, however, were separated by a wool blanket in lieu of a more costly wood-dividing wall. Privacy did not exist. With only one bathroom, things were always challenging in the Youngman home. Mother made sure the children respected one another, and when they did not, Father would step in and quickly lend a firm hand. Honor of thy parents was not a choice, it was a given.

Without a car, phone, or electricity, the family lived in many ways without. A single dirt path was the only way in and the only way out to and from the Youngman's homestead. Even then, that path was always under a constant battle for survival. Wild huckleberry and rabbitbrush were always attempting to reclaim the muddy thread. It was a hard journey by horse to the nearest paved road, nearly thirty miles away. Living off the grid on the reservation was in sharp contrast with how the rest of the world lived, off in the horizon. There was no radio or television, and entertainment came in the form of Montana's ever-changing landscape. A majestic view across valley, over hill, and upward to mountains that touched the skies.

Living off the grid as the Youngman's did, was never lonely. Blood relations dotted this remote landscape, and family and culture were united upon the reservation. To the other side of the border, the White man lived very differently. Different culture, customs, beliefs and values, and so the border was essential and respected for the most part by both sides.

Sommer fell second in the family order. However, from fourteen on, he became the eldest living child after his brother, Chardon, who was killed by a bullet on the other side of the border. This tragedy forever changed the family, and yet there was a secret reason why it tormented Sommer for the rest of his life.

For three generations, the Youngman's had tracked the upper ridges of the Blacktail Mountains on over to the Beartooth Range. They hunted by bow, by gun, and by snare. Every spring and again in late summer, they would leave the safety of home. For weeks at a time, they would silently roam the upper ridges. From dark thickets to open rock ravines, a winter supply of food was trapped and killed. It was always about preparing for the lean winter months, and yet it was also a time to learn survival skills.

Gathering food for the family was not just a chore but a necessity. It was never about the week ahead nor the month after next, it was always about the season ahead. Droughts, floods, and wildfires were always an expected occurrence along the Blackfoot River. You were either prepped and prepared, or you were unprepared and dead.

Firewood was almost as essential as food. It was the only source of heat for families living in the shadows of the Blacktail Mountains. In ideal situations, falling trees, splitting wood, and then stacking it to dry would be a job for the men. Not here and not then. The chores for the Youngman women reached far beyond the house and barn and into the woods that laid at the foot of the rise. Blisters were not limited to just the men. The females had to gather wood, while the hunters were away. Sommer could remember returning home from a hunting trip to his mother's embrace. Even now, as an aging adult, he still remembers the pungent odor of his mother's hands, wrapped in hemp cloth, and soaked with cohosh root oil and pine sap.

Not one of the Youngman women were considered delicate or dainty. Sommer's mother, Kaydence, and his three sisters, Sandy, Kima and Rushlyn, were all beautiful. Black hair, long and shiny like a clear Montana summer night sky, intense brown eyes, which matched the rocky shores of Seeley Lake. Each was feminine in appearance, but their hands told another story.

Growing up, as Sommer and his siblings did, each day was a day to prepare for the season ahead. Supermarkets did not exist, nor did Western doctors with the latest cure. Dental hygiene was a luxury, and giving birth in a hospital, much the same. Preventative shots and vaccines never seemed to reach the reservations, and yet Grandpa Nakota lived to be 102 and Grandma Kyah, 103.

The Youngman's survived living off the gifts of the rivers, the lakes, and the land. Each provided the necessities for survival, but only if the survivalists learned the skills. As a family united, they were peaceful, productive, and strong.

America today, in 2027, was finding out that a divided nation was neither peaceful nor productive and, besides that, very dangerous. Each race and culture was demanding to be recognized and respected, while living behind one border. Diversity is a beautiful thing until it becomes a weapon for division.

In the last few years, a now-elderly Dr. Sommer Youngman has been warning of the possibility of a civil war. Via his radio show, he has called for Americans to learn how to live without modern conveniences, as one day, they may all go down. Prepping is vital, and being prepared is a necessity. Not just food, water, medicine, and guns, though, but having somewhere safe to seek refuge, somewhere with like-minded people when unlike-minded people want you dead. Some call him a conspiracist, others find him to be enlightened. Dr. Youngman likes to refer to himself, though, as a whisperer of truth amongst the yell of lies.

Chapter 2

Cold and Harsh

In the small town of Three Pines, Oregon, Christmas was a time to celebrate and illuminate. December always gave color to the otherwise cold sheet of winter gray. Four months of snow, and Christmas fell right in the middle of it all. Towns like Three Pines fought back against the winter grays by lighting up Main Street in festive cheer. Buildings outlined from top to bottom in colored strands, and lampposts twisted in green garland. None of this, though, changed the fact that winters in the Northwest can be cold and harsh…and for that matter, so can life.

On a December morning, twenty-plus years ago, a child was born into the wealthiest family in Three Pines. In fact, George Canton owned most of the county. To say that Jessica, their daughter, was born into wealth and privilege would be correct. To say that she was born into a happy and loving home would be incorrect.

George was man who sought power and dominance over everyone and everything. Being feared was a common denominator in all of his relationships. That even included his marriage. Susan, who was eighteen years younger, proved to be easily manipulated and, thus, easily controlled. She was expected to be seen rather than heard. If she did speak, it was only to praise her husband. As for being seen, she was required to look her best or not to be seen at all. For George, the term trophy wife, meant second place was not acceptable, only first place would do.

Home sweet home was a sign that never adorned the Canton house. Susan could not even begin to relate to that saying. Though her home was large and opulent, it was also her personal prison. A place of walls and gates, which separated her from happiness and freedom. Her marriage was the beginning to a great many ends. Much like how socialism takes hold, George took away Susan's freedoms little by little and one at a time until there were none. That included isolating her from family and friends. She became a prisoner, a possession, a property of her husband. Everything she said, did, or tried to do was in George's control. Her one and only saving grace was their live-in maid, Maria Espanoza. She became Susan's only confidant and friend.

During the many years of Maria's employment, she never once betrayed her employer, George Canton. Even though she witnessed numerous beatings of Susan and tended to her wounds, she still never crossed that line of employer confidentiality, at least not that he knew of.

There were reasons Maria Espanoza never spoke out, nor reported the abuse. It was not because she didn't care. It was because she once did so before, and things did not turn out so well. Her husband Dade had been a lot like George. He was abusive, controlling, and also very wealthy. One night, after simply not making his cocktail strong enough, she was backhanded, something that had happened many times before, and for the first time ever, she phoned for help. When the police arrived, Dade quickly intercepted both men, taking them into his private study. She remained alone in the entryway, bleeding and holding two broken teeth. She could hear the muffled conversation of the three men on the other side of the door. Moments later, the two police officers exited the room with their report ready and needing only one more signature.

Accidental slip and fall