MacAvity's Burning

Dan H. McLachlan

Description

When MacAvity's Pub is fire bombed, a hunt for the perpetrators sets off a series of bloody encounters in the Gospel Hump Wilderness of Central Idaho and the steppes of Central Washington. It is feared that a war has broken out among two militias with ties to Finland and the Saulite Lutheran Church. Paul and Smoke are unwittingly thrown into the center of the conflict–a conflict which law enforcement is unable to keep from spreading.

Sujets

• Adventure
• Fiction
• Action

Informations

• Publié par: eBookIt.com
• Date de parution: 21 février 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781456611224
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

MacAVITY's BURNING
 
 
Dan H. McLACHLAN



© Copyright 2012, Dan H. McLachlan. All Rights Reserved
 
First Edition
 
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage, and retrieval system without written permission from both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book.
 
This story is based on a true incident, but beyond that, it is a fabrication. Names, characters and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
 
Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com
Converted by http://www.eBookIt.com
 
ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-1122-4
 
The front and back cover photos were taken by Terry Geltz, who was there.
 
Cover design by Ryan Ratliff
 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


Praise for MacAvity’s Pub
McLachlan has skillfully created a set of characters to root for--a group of vets that are more capable in their 60s and 70s than people give them credit for. He’s also picked a good viewpoint from which to tell the story--that of Paul, the only non-vet in the bunch, whose inexperience allows him to look at the action with wonder and relate all the surprising details as his friends pull together with amazing efficiency. The author also has a wonderful eye for description. When his characters traverse the wilderness around their hometown, readers can see every tree and even smell the air. Every weapon the characters pick up has a unique quality and history
- -Kirkus Discoveries
 
I love this book! It shows what a group of people old enough to be getting Social Security checks can do when faced with a series of mysterious assaults on their lives and property. Set in northern Idaho, up above the confluence of the Clearwater and the Snake Rivers, it accurately reflects the landscape and the life-ways of the inhabitants
- -Howard McCord, Nominee for the
2002 National Book Award
 
MacAvity’s Pub is an adult romp, realistic fun with patriotic, down-home characters that make you smile and cheer through a plot full of waves; just when you think it’s over, it’s time for another ride. McLachlan, through his main character’s voice, makes every character come alive in their uniqueness and in their roles. His descriptions are sprinkled and not overdone, building pictures, still and moving, never dulling.
- -Jennifer Garcia, Moscow, Idaho
 
What really sticks out about MacAvity’s Pub,is not so much the driving plot, but the opportunity to share the mind of a great northwest oral historian. You get a deep sense of histories of places and people in north Idaho, Washington and parts of Montana, of the tribes and people living there and the geographies of the lands.
- -John Brunsfeld, Chubbs-Toga Band
 
I could not put this book down! Non-stop action, colorful characters, engaging descriptions of settings, even a little sexual tension: what more could you want in a book?
- -Eric Nordquist, Pullman, Washington
 
This novel will wake you up to a rousing tale of intrigue, adventure, and a kick-ass good time as a bunch of “over the hill gang” men and women take on the forces of modern day corruption and crime. I highly recommend this novel not only as a great read, but also as a thought provoking consideration of our modern day crisis in values.
- -Alan Swanson, Olympia, Washington
 
I really had a lot of things I needed to be doing...and I could not stop reading this darn book. It made me laugh, it made me cry, and now that I’m finished, I’m already missing the characters that were brought to life so well. I felt I knew them personally by the last chapter. I’m anxiously awaiting another book from this most descriptive, enjoyable author.
- -Dave Scott, Cashmere, Washington
Acknowledgements
I am deeply indebted to my wife, Edie, for her painstaking and detailed editing and proofing. Her advice was sound and invaluable, and her patience unlimited. I am also thankful for the help given me by Colonel Bud Hall (ret.) whose knowledge of planes and weapons is boundless, and who gave me technical advice and proofing that kept me on the straight and narrow. Both Edie and Bud have saved my life in the past two years as well. What’s not to like about that? Dee and Randy Hall I thank for giving me permission to build a story on the incident of their Corner Bar and Restaurant being firebombed several years ago (pictures on the covers). The perpetrators have yet to be apprehended. And I would like to thank the people of our town and surrounding farms and ranches for being the sorts of kind and generous of heart people described in my books. I would also like to thank my dog, Ollie--but of course, she doesn’t know how to read...yet.


“Colonel Puff Puff came to town.
Burned down The Corner to the ground.
When he saw what he had done,
he laughed and said,
‘I wish they were dead!’”
 
- anonymous
(recited by a stranger who came into
the new pub after the fire)
Chapter One
It sounded like someone just threw a pillow against my bedroom window...a fluff of sound heavy against the glass that woke me from a shallow sleep.
I rolled over and looked at the time, 2:18am, and laid back again and wondered idly if I had dreamed the sound or if I should get up and check outside to see if anything was going on.
That was when the town siren atop the fire house started its long wail. And then the water tower siren began winding up, followed by the two grain elevator sirens. Within moments the night was screaming in agony, its howling floating out over the rolling farmland like a tsunami, rattling windows and jerking people to their feet, and out onto their porches, groggy and wondering what the hell was happening. Never before had all four sirens gone off at once, and on the farms families scanned their fields heavy with grain fearing they had caught fire. But what they saw was the loom of fire lighting the sky in a bowl of smoking flame from the distant center of town. From their vantage points it appeared Ryback was burning to the ground.
From the flood of yellow light that throbbed through my windows, it appeared to me that indeed the entire town was ablaze.
I pulled on my jeans and shirt, stepped into my slippers, and was still buttoning as I hurried out onto the porch. I ran down the lawn just as Smoke came tearing to a stop in his jet black GMC pickup, it’s engine rumbling and the growing pillar of flames from town reflected in his windshield.
I ran around front and climbed into the cab beside him. We were doing thirty before I had my door shut. To our right, a stream of headlights bounced and weaved and dipped from sight to reappear as every pickup and every water truck from the farms raced in to help fight the blaze.
I glanced at Smoke who hadn’t said a word. His face was grim and set hard. He had been an Air Force colonel in Nam, an ace fighter pilot, and what he was seeing ahead of us went further than I could know.
We slid to a halt in a jam of trucks between the elevators and what we could now see was the towering column of fire that was MacAvity’s Pub. The brick walls still stood, and the window frames of blown-out glass were filled with living sheets of smokeless flame licking the darkness.
The sirens suddenly went silent, and the night, void of their sobbings, became a hollow of light and yelling--and something else unearthly and astounding--MacAvity’s was roaring like an enormous jet engine that thrust fire over a hundred feet into the mushroom of night black smoke. And the whistling. The intensity of the inferno was streaking past the window openings as giant steam engine whistles.
Smoke and I ran up the adjacent alley and out onto Main in time to see the fire hoses spring to life and gush columns of water futilely through the window openings.
It was then that a gun shot roared and Smoke grabbed my elbow and pointed at the gathering crowd of town people struggling with the hoses. Standing off to one side, was Shiela, dressed only in Butte MacAvity’s pajama top, and MacAvity, in the bottoms held up by a John Wayne holster. He was waving a .45 Ruger Blackhawk revolver.
The gunshot, over the roar of the inferno, got every-one’s attention.
“Forget the fucking fire!” Butte shouted. “Save the town, you morons!”
He waved his arm at the adjacent buildings that were steaming ominously--something no one had noticed. With effort the hoses were swung around and redirected at them, yet Roy Black and Pappy Boyd inadvertently swung theirs over the surface of the street, and swept Leaps and Shay who were manning the central hydrant off their feet.
They clambered back up hatless, and Leaps pointed at the fire and shouted.
We turned in time to see the back brick two story wall of the pub teeter and then, with a rippling bulge, fall forward into the throat of the flames. A geyser of sparks and burning chunks of wood lifted into the sky.
“Holy shit,” Smoke mumbled.
He leaned closer.
“If there was any wind we could kiss Ryback goodbye, Paul”
I nodded.
Even as still as the air was, people were dodging the falling coals. A curtain of smaller sparks rained down but were pulled back into the flames by the strong updraft. The heat against my face was growing intense, and my jeans were hot against my legs.
Smoke leaned over again.
“You should see what a circle of incendiaries will do to a village,” he said. “Ugly.”
I nodded again.
He began to work his way over to Sheila and Butte, threading his way over the fire hoses and chaos. I fell in behind him.
Butte had taken Shiela by the elbow, backed away from the inferno, and had found relief under City Hall’s sheet metal awning directly across the wide main street. Shiela had tears streaming down her cheeks, but her mouth was tight with anger and her eyes moved back and forth over the crowd like gun sights.
Butte hol