Tyranny by William W. Johnstone Read Free Book Online Page A

side a little was a large barn made out of sheet metal, even its roof. Devlin knew from studying Brannock’s tax returns that the barn was six years old, having been built to replace the old wooden barn that had been there.
    To the left of the barn was a large enclosure made from T-posts and horse panels. On the other side was an old-fashioned wooden pole corral. An open shed was also on that side of the barn, its roof overhanging metal water troughs.
    Devlin swung the binoculars toward a row of small, three- and four-room frame cottages. The ranch hands who worked for Brannock lived in those cottages, some with families, others single men who shared the cottages.
    His workers were all Hispanic, but there were no illegals among them. In fact, all of them came from families that had been American citizens for several generations. The INS had no leverage to use against the rancher.
    And they had searched high and low for just such leverage, Devlin knew.
    He lifted the binoculars to look at the lower reaches of the mountains. At this time of year, most of Brannock’s cattle would be up there on that higher range, although Devlin didn’t spot any at the moment. Generally, winters were mild in this part of West Texas, but there could still be a considerable amount of snow, so during the fall the herd would be driven down into the valley.
    Everything looked just about like he expected it to, thought Devlin as he lowered the glasses. He had never been here before, but he felt like he knew Brannock’s ranch quite well despite that. He had spent a lot of time studying the place when he was given this assignment. He never went into a job unprepared.
    This drive out here today had been just to get the lay of the land and make sure no one had overlooked anything. Satisfied, he started to turn back toward the rental car when something caught his eye.
    A column of dust had appeared, moving slowly toward the ranch headquarters from the direction of the state highway. Curious, Devlin brought the binoculars to his eyes again and looked through them.
    It took him a moment to locate the dust column through the lenses and then follow it down to the vehicle causing it. An old, dark blue pickup bounced along the rough dirt road leading from the highway.
    That was Brannock’s pickup, Devlin knew. He knew about everything the old rancher paid taxes on or registered with the state. He knew what was in all the e-mails Brannock retrieved once a week, his only use of the Internet. He knew what programs Brannock watched on his satellite dish, mostly sports and old movies and vintage sitcoms and variety shows. Brannock lived in the past as much as possible, no doubt about that.
    That was going to be his undoing. A man had to look to the future to survive.
    There was no garage, but a wooden carport sat to one side of the house. Brannock parked the pickup underneath it and climbed out.
    To Devlin’s surprise, the passenger door swung open as well and another man got out. This one was a lot younger, a slender, sandy-haired man in jeans and T-shirt.
    The agent’s forehead creased in a frown. As far as he was aware, Brannock lived out here alone except for the ranch hands. Maybe this guy was somebody the rancher had just hired.
    Clearly, though, he wasn’t Hispanic, which meant he didn’t fit Brannock’s pattern.
    Devlin didn’t like anything that didn’t fit into a pattern.
    But it didn’t matter, he told himself. No matter who the man with Brannock was, he wouldn’t have any effect on what was going to happen soon.
    The plan had progressed too far for anything to stop it now. Satisfied, Devlin got into the car, backed it around, and started back the way he had come.
    A couple of hundred yards away, hidden behind a rock spire, two men Devlin hadn’t seen at all watched the IRS agent drive away.

Chapter 11
    â€œK eep movin’ and get in the house,” G. W. said sharply as he and Kyle