The State Champions

 

Chapter 1: Area North

Almost 18, Billy Benson was built like a tank. Captain of his high school wrestling team, for this small Texas ranch county he and his boys brought home the state Championship for the entire state of Texas. Refusing scholarship, he decided to stay on the ranch with his parents, 4 older brothers and their families, two married and 2 nephews, twins at 10. His father was proud of his youngest, taking more responsibility on the ranch since he was 16, and had the respect of the whole family.

It was a huge spread. Tom Benson had just hired a new foreman and 4 cowboy workers for 1/4 of the ranch, "Area North."

For the second time in the day they missed a radio check. At 2pm he asked Billy to mount and go check if anything was wrong. Billy mounted BULLET and rode the 20 minutes to "Area north" and found them all drunk. He grabbed his radio to call his father and tell him that we had a problem, when he was pulled off his horse, tied hand and foot with rope and beaten up. BULLET galloped away like lightning. They dumped Billy, knocked out, into their truck and took off... leaving his radio in the dirt with his father's calling in for a check, and BULLET galloping back to his stall.

Chapter 2: Bullet's Return

Tom Benson looked up from the feed trough when he heard the thundering hooves. BULLET was running flat out, stirrups flying, reins loose and wild. No Billy.

The horse slid to a stop at the barn, sides heaving, eyes white with panic. Tom's stomach dropped. In thirty years of ranching, he'd never seen BULLET without Billy. The horse wouldn't leave the boy's side for anything.

"Marcus!" Tom shouted to his oldest son. "Get over here!"

Marcus jogged over, took one look at the riderless horse, and his face went pale. "Where's Billy?"

Tom grabbed BULLET's reins, running his hands along the horse's neck, checking for injuries. Nothing. But the saddle was askew, like someone had been pulled from it hard.

"Radio him," Tom said, his voice tight.

Marcus keyed the radio. "Billy, come in. Billy, you copy?"

Static.

"Billy, this is Marcus. Come back."

Nothing but the hiss of empty air.

Tom's hands were shaking as he unsaddled BULLET. The horse kept looking toward Area North, ears pricked forward, as if expecting Billy to come riding over the hill any second.

But the horizon stayed empty.

Chapter 3: The Discovery

Marcus and Jake rode hard toward Area North, their horses kicking up clouds of dust in the late afternoon heat. The radio crackled with static as they tried Billy again and again.

"Billy, come in," Marcus called into his handset. "Billy, you there?"

Nothing.

They found Billy's radio first, lying in the dirt near a cluster of mesquite trees. Marcus dismounted and picked it up, turning it over in his hands. No damage, but the battery was nearly dead from being keyed open.

"Over here!" Jake shouted.

Fifty yards away, caught on a barbed wire fence, hung Billy's torn shirt. The fabric was ripped clean down the middle, as if it had been yanked off in a struggle.

But it was Jake who made the worst discovery.

"Marcus," he said, his voice tight. "Look at this."

Scattered around the base of an old oak tree were pieces of cut rope - good working rope. The ends were clean, cut with a knife, not frayed from wear. And there were boot prints in the soft earth, far too many for just Billy and the missing crew.

Marcus keyed his radio with shaking hands.

"Dad, you need to hear this."

Back at the ranch, Tom's face went white as Marcus described what they'd found. The cut rope told the whole story. When Marcus finished, Tom was quiet for a long moment.

Then he reached for the phone.Chapter 4: The Sheriff

The phone rang three times before Sheriff Ray Hutchins picked up.

"Ray, it's Tom. I need you out here. Now."

Tom's voice was different - tight, controlled, but with an edge Ray had never heard from his brother-in-law in twenty years.

"What's going on, Tom?"

"Billy's missing. The new crew took him."

Ray was already reaching for his hat. "I'll be right there."

"Bring everyone you can."

The line went dead.

Ray called his deputy, then his wife. "Linda, call your sister. Tell her to bring the kids and come to the ranch. Something's happened to Billy."

Within the hour, vehicles were streaming down the long dirt road to the Benson ranch. Ray arrived first, followed by his deputy, then Linda with their two teenage sons. The boys had grown up with Billy, spending summers at the ranch, and both wrestled on the same team that had just won state with Billy as captain. When they heard what happened, both boys looked like they'd been punched.

"We gotta call Coach Martinez," the older boy said immediately. "The whole team needs to know."

Tom met them at the porch, his face grim. "Marcus and Jake found his radio, his shirt, and cut rope. Boot prints everywhere. They took him, Ray."

Ray studied his brother-in-law's face. In all their years together, through droughts, cattle diseases, and financial troubles, he'd never seen Tom Benson look like this. The gentle man who'd married his sister was still there, but underneath was something harder, something Ray wasn't sure he recognized.

"Tell me everything," Ray said, pulling out his notebook.

Chapter 5: First Night

Billy woke to darkness and pain.

His head throbbed where they'd hit him, dried blood crusting on his cheek. But it was his arms that screamed for attention - pulled up and back around the tree trunk, his shoulders burning with the strain. The rope bit into his wrists, and his biceps were lashed tight against the bark.

He tried to move and immediately regretted it. Every rope was positioned to make escape impossible. His legs were pulled back, thighs tied to the tree, ankles bound and stretched around the trunk. Even his torso was cinched tight with multiple wraps of rope.

The gag made breathing difficult - two bandannas knotted in the middle and pulled tight behind his head.

Panic hit him first. He threw his weight against the ropes, twisting, pulling, fighting with every ounce of his wrestler's strength. The championship strength that had beaten every opponent in Texas.

The ropes didn't budge. They only cut deeper.

Three hours later, his wrists were raw and bleeding. His neck burned where the rope rubbed against torn skin. His shoulders felt like they might separate from the constant strain.

And still the ropes held.

In the distance, something howled.

Billy stopped struggling and listened to the sounds of the night. Rustling in the underbrush. The scream of a hunting owl. Things moving in the darkness that he couldn't see.

For the first time since winning state championship, Billy Benson realized his strength meant nothing at all.

Chapter 6: The Search Begins

By dawn, the Benson ranch looked like a command center.

Ray had called in every favor he could. State troopers, county deputies, even a helicopter from Austin. The dining room table was covered with maps, the kitchen counter lined with thermoses of coffee and sandwiches none of them could eat.

Tom hadn't slept. He stood at the window watching the sun rise, his hands clenched at his sides.

"Dad," Marcus said quietly, "we need to talk about the crew's truck."

Ray looked up from the map he'd been studying. "What about it?"

"It's gone. They cleared out everything - their gear, their bedrolls, everything."

"License plate?"

Tom turned from the window. "Never got one. Cash job, remember? They said they were between jobs, just needed work for a few weeks."

Ray cursed under his breath. "Names?"

"First names only. Real smart now that I think about it." Tom's voice was bitter. "Jake, Pete, Carl, and Danny. That's all I got."

Linda came into the room carrying her cell phone. "The boys called their coach. The whole wrestling team wants to help search."

Ray frowned. "Linda, this isn't a job for high school kids."

"With respect, Ray," Tom said, not turning from the window, "those kids know these woods better than anyone. They've been hunting and fishing here since they were ten. And they know Billy."

"He's their captain," added Ray's older son from the doorway. "If someone took our captain, we don't just sit around waiting."

Ray studied the boy's face - saw the same determination he'd seen in Billy's eyes before every match.

"Alright," he said finally. "But they stay in groups, they carry radios, and they follow orders."

Tom finally turned from the window. For the first time since Bullet had come home alone, something like hope flickered in his eyes.

"Billy's tough," he said. "He just needs to hold on until we find him."

Chapter 6: The Photo

The Benson ranch had transformed overnight into a war room. Maps covered every surface, radios crackled with static, and the smell of coffee mixed with the tension that hung thick in the air. Tom hadn't slept - hadn't even sat down since Bullet had come home alone.

Ray coordinated with his deputies while state troopers set up a command post in the barn. The helicopter from Austin would arrive within the hour.

"License plate on that truck?" Ray asked for the third time.

"Cash job," Tom said bitterly. "No paperwork, no background check. Just first names - Jake, Pete, Carl, and Danny."

Ray's phone buzzed. Unknown number.

"Sheriff Hutchins."

The voice was rough, unfamiliar. "You looking for the wrestler boy?"

Ray's blood turned to ice. "Who is this?"

"Check your messages."

The line went dead.

Ray's phone chimed. Incoming photo.

When Ray saw the image, his face went white as paper. Tom noticed immediately.

"What is it, Ray?"

Ray couldn't speak. His hands were shaking as he turned the phone toward Tom.

Billy, unconscious, his face bloody and swollen. Tied to a massive oak tree with his arms pulled up and back, rope cutting deep into his wrists. His bare chest was bound tight with multiple wraps of rope, his biceps lashed to the bark so tight the veins bulged. A rope around his neck left raw burns on his skin.

Tom made a sound like a dying animal.

The sound of vehicles approaching made everyone look up. Through the window, they could see six pickup trucks kicking up dust clouds as they rolled down the long drive.

"The wrestling team," Linda said, coming in from the kitchen. "Coach Martinez called them."

Six seniors climbed out with their coach - Rodriguez, Garrett, Torres, Johnson, Mitchell, and Davis. These weren't just any wrestlers. These were the boys who'd followed Billy to the state championship, who'd trained beside him for four years.

The front door opened and they walked in, ready to volunteer for the search. They took one look at Tom's face and knew something was terribly wrong.

"What happened?" Rodriguez demanded. He was the heavyweight who'd been Billy's training partner since they were freshmen. "What's wrong?"

"Is it Billy?" Garrett stepped forward. "Did you find something?"

Ray tried to put the phone away, but the boys had seen the devastation on both men's faces.

"If something happened to Billy, we need to know," Torres said quietly.

Ray looked at Tom, who nodded grimly.

Ray held up the phone.

For three seconds, the room was completely silent.

Then it exploded.

Rodriguez drove his fist through the kitchen wall, leaving a hole in the drywall. "Those fucking animals!"

Garrett grabbed a chair and hurled it across the room. "I'll kill them! I'll fucking kill them all!"

Torres, who rarely spoke, just stared with murder in his dark eyes. "When we find them..."

Johnson kicked the coffee table, sending papers flying. Mitchell and Davis stood with their fists clenched so tight their knuckles had gone white.

These were eighteen-year-old state champions who'd learned to control their aggression on the wrestling mat. Now that control was gone.

Coach Martinez grabbed Rodriguez's arm before he could punch another hole in the wall.

Ray stood up and shouted over the chaos. "ENOUGH!"

The room went quiet except for heavy breathing.

"I know you're angry," Ray said, his voice steady but hard. "I know you want to tear something apart. But Billy is out there right now, and he needs you thinking, not just fighting. You want to help him? Then act like the champions you are."

The boys stood breathing hard, muscles coiled, but listening.

"We're going to find those men," Ray continued. "And when we do, they're going to face justice. But right now, Billy is counting on all of us to be smart. Can you do that for your captain?"

One by one, the boys nodded.

"Good," Ray said. "Then let's bring Billy home."

Chapter 7: The Wrestler's Mind

Billy's second day began with pain.

Every muscle screamed. His shoulders felt like they might tear from their sockets. The ropes had cut deeper into his wrists during the night, and dried blood crusted on his arms. His neck burned where the rope had rubbed raw.

But something had changed.

During his first night, he'd fought the ropes like an opponent on the mat - using brute force, trying to overpower them. All that had gotten him was more pain and exhaustion.

Now, as the sun filtered through the leaves above him, Billy remembered something Coach Martinez had drilled into them for four years.

"Wrestling isn't just about strength," the coach always said. "It's about the mind. When your body wants to quit, when you're getting beaten, when everything hurts - that's when champions find another level. That's when you discover what's really inside you."

Billy had used that mindset to win matches when he was behind on points, when his body was spent, when opponents seemed stronger. He'd learned to separate his mind from his physical discomfort, to think clearly even when his lungs burned and his muscles screamed.

He closed his eyes and began to breathe the way he did before big matches. Slow, controlled, finding that calm center that had made him state champion.

The ropes were still there. The pain was still there. But now they were just... conditions. Like wrestling someone heavier, or competing with an injury, or fighting through exhaustion in the third period.

This was just another match. The longest match of his life.

Billy opened his eyes and really looked at the tree for the first time. Medium-sized oak, maybe thirty years old, but sturdy. Thick enough that his arms couldn't reach around it, but not so massive that it dwarfed him. It had survived droughts, storms, and Texas heat. It was still here.

"You and me," he whispered to the tree. "We're gonna outlast them."

He tested the ropes again, but differently this time. Not fighting them, but feeling them. Understanding them. Looking for the weak points, the leverage, the angles - the same way he'd studied an opponent's stance before a match.

There. The rope around his left wrist had the slightest give when he twisted his hand a certain way. Not enough to escape, but enough to ease the pressure on his circulation.

Billy smiled for the first time since this started.

He was still in the match.

Chapter 8: The Search Begins

By dawn, the Benson ranch looked like a military operation.

The helicopter from Austin had arrived at first light, its rotors cutting through the morning air as it circled the vast ranch property. State troopers coordinated with Ray's deputies, spreading maps across makeshift tables in the barn.

Coach Martinez stood with the six wrestlers, organizing them into search teams. These boys knew every creek, every trail, every hunting blind on the property. They'd spent summers here since they were kids.

"Rodriguez, you take Johnson and cover the north pasture," the coach said, his voice steady but urgent. "Garrett, take Torres and Mitchell to the creek bottoms. Davis, you're with me on the eastern fence line."

Tom emerged from the house, his face haggard but determined. He'd finally managed to change clothes and grab a rifle from his gun cabinet.

"Mr. Benson," Rodriguez said, stepping forward. "We're gonna find him."

Tom nodded, but his eyes held a hardness none of them had ever seen before. "When you do find those men," he said quietly, "you radio me first. Understand?"

The boys exchanged glances. This wasn't the gentle rancher they'd known for years.

"Dad," Marcus approached with Jake trailing behind. "The helicopter spotted their truck about ten miles north. Abandoned near Miller's Creek."

Ray looked up from his radio. "That's outside our county. I'll need to coordinate with—"

"No," Tom interrupted. "We handle this ourselves first."

Ray studied his brother-in-law's face. "Tom, we do this by the book."

"They sent me a picture of my son tied to a tree like an animal," Tom said, his voice deadly calm. "The book goes out the window."

Linda came out of the house carrying a thermos of coffee and sandwiches wrapped in foil. She handed them to the search teams, but her hands were shaking.

"Bring him home," she whispered to the wrestlers. "Just bring our boy home."

Rodriguez hefted his radio and checked his GPS. "Yes ma'am. We will."

As the teams spread out across the ranch, the helicopter's steady thrum echoed over the Texas landscape. Somewhere out there, Billy was waiting.

The hunt had begun.

Chapter 9: The Second Night

Billy's transformation deepened as darkness fell again.

The wrestling mindset had carried him through the day. He'd found ways to shift his weight, to ease the pressure on different parts of his body, to breathe through the worst moments of pain. But as night settled over the woods, something deeper began to emerge.

A strange peace settled over him.

The bark was rough against his back, but somehow comforting. Solid. Permanent. While everything else in his world had become chaos, the tree remained exactly what it had always been.

The pain in his shoulders had become a constant companion, but no longer an enemy. It was just there, like the rope, like the tree, like the darkness around him. All part of something larger than himself.

An owl hooted somewhere in the darkness. Billy turned his head toward the sound instead of flinching away from it. The night sounds were no longer threats - they were simply the world continuing to exist around him.

He thought about his family. His father's pride when he'd won state. His brothers teaching him to ride. His mother's cooking filling the ranch house with warmth. The wrestling team counting on him to lead them to victory.

He'd lived a good life. Short, maybe, but good.

If this was his last night, if those men came back in the morning with something worse than ropes, Billy realized he was ready. Not eager, but ready. He'd given everything he had to give - to his family, to his team, to this moment.

The fear that had gripped him yesterday was gone, replaced by something he'd never felt before. A deep, quiet acceptance that whatever came next, he'd faced it with dignity.

His breathing slowed and steadied. The ropes were still there, the pain was still there, but they seemed smaller now. Part of something he could endure.

Billy Benson closed his eyes and waited for whatever dawn would bring.

For the first time in thirty-six hours, he felt truly at peace.

Chapter 10: The Rescue

Dawn of the third day broke gray and cold.

Rodriguez and Johnson had been searching since first light, following the creek bed north of the abandoned truck. The helicopter had made three passes over this area, but the thick canopy made it impossible to see through.

"Wait," Rodriguez stopped, holding up his hand. "You hear that?"

Johnson listened. Nothing but wind in the trees.

"There," Rodriguez pointed through the mesquite. "Something blue."

They pushed through the brush and froze.

Billy was exactly as he'd appeared in the photo - tied to the oak tree, his head hanging forward, the gag still tight across his mouth. But something was different. He wasn't struggling. Wasn't fighting the ropes. He looked... peaceful.

"Jesus," Johnson whispered. "Is he...?"

"Billy!" Rodriguez called out.

Billy's head lifted slowly. When he saw them, his eyes brightened. He tried to speak but only muffled sounds came through the gag.

Rodriguez keyed his radio with shaking hands. "We found him! We found Billy!"

Within minutes, the clearing filled with people. Tom arrived first, running faster than a man his age should be able to run. Ray was right behind him, along with Marcus and Jake.

Tom stopped short when he saw his son. Billy looked different somehow. Older. Calmer. There was something in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

Tom's hands shook as he pulled out his knife and carefully cut away the gag. Billy worked his jaw, swallowing painfully.

"Dad," Billy said quietly, his voice hoarse but steady. "I'm okay."

"Son..." Tom's voice broke as he began cutting the ropes binding Billy's arms.

Ray helped support Billy as the circulation returned to his limbs, but the boy barely winced. He just kept looking at his father with those changed eyes.

"The men who did this," Ray said as he examined Billy's injuries. "Do you know where they went?"

Billy shook his head. "They left yesterday morning. Haven't seen them since."

Tom wrapped his jacket around his son's shoulders. "We're going to find them, Billy. They're going to pay for this."

Billy looked at his father for a long moment. "Dad," he said finally. "I need to tell you something about the ranch. About how we've been doing things."

Ray helped Billy to his feet, but the boy was steady. Whatever had happened to him out here, whatever he'd discovered during those thirty-six hours, it had changed him completely.

The gentle ranch boy who'd ridden out to check on the crew was gone.

In his place stood someone Tom didn't quite recognize - someone who'd found a strength that had nothing to do with muscles or wrestling championships.

Someone who had something important to say about their family's future.

Chapter 11: Three Weeks Later

The wrestling team had been planning it for days.

They'd all graduated together three weeks ago - state champions, the pride of the county. But Billy's kidnapping had happened right after graduation, and now that he was recovered, the boys figured he needed to know his teammates still had his back.

They came through his bedroom window at 2 AM, silent as shadows. Rodriguez was first, dropping onto the floor like a cat. The others followed - Garrett, Torres, Johnson, Mitchell, and Davis.

Billy stirred as a hand covered his mouth. His eyes snapped open, instantly alert. Through the darkness he saw hooded figures surrounding his bed.

His heart hammered. They'd found him. The ranch workers had come back.

Without a word, they pulled a hood over his head, cinching it tight with a gag wrapped around the outside. Billy's hands were quickly bound behind his back. He tried to resist, but six against one was impossible.

They lifted him from his bed and carried him through the window, down the roof, and across the ranch yard. Billy's mind raced. How had they gotten past the security his father had installed? Where were they taking him this time?

He felt himself being lowered into what felt like the barn. The familiar smell of hay and leather filled his nostrils even through the hood. They placed him on his stomach and quickly tied his ankles, then connected them to his wrists in a hogtie.

Billy lay there, breathing hard through the hood, waiting for whatever came next.

Then the hood came off.

"Surprise, captain!"

Billy blinked in the soft light of a battery-powered lantern. His six former teammates grinned down at him, their own hoods pulled back. Next to him sat two large coolers, both filled with ice-cold beer.

"You sons of bitches," Billy said, and then he was laughing. Laughing harder than he had in weeks. "You scared the hell out of me!"

"That was the point," Rodriguez said, cracking open a beer. "We figured you needed to know we're still your team, even if we're not in school anymore."

Billy tested the ropes - good knots, properly tied, but with just enough give to be comfortable. He looked up at his former teammates, these boys who'd risked everything to search for him, and felt something warm fill his chest.

"Best prank ever," he said. "Now somebody untie me so I can drink with you bastards."

As the ropes came off and cold beers were passed around, Billy realized something important. He wasn't the same boy who'd ridden out to Area North three weeks ago.

He was better.