by N. C. Reed
A good finish to a fair day, he decided.
***
“Gordon, we've got to do something about this.”
“Angela, enough,” Gordon looked up tiredly from the book in his lap. “No more. What has happened to you? When we were trying to prepare ourselves for this you were one of the most level headed and realistic people in the outfit. Now? Running Clayton off by demanding mattresses every time the boy had five minutes to eat? Barging in on his lunch time to complain about how he was treating a murderer? And now it's about two women who aren't hurting anything other than your sensibilities.”
“Gordon, how can you-,”
“I said enough!” Gordon snapped, slamming his book closed. “Have you looked around? We have run completely out of normal, Angela. I thought you of all people recognized that. Realized that things had changed and we had to change with them. I know you don't like how things are going and while I can sympathize with you, I don't agree with how you're doing things. Especially the way you're treating Clayton. I want it to end, and I mean end today. I've given him much too hard a time myself on your behalf, and I don't aim to do it any more. I said that before and I'm ashamed I didn't stick to it, but I will this time.
“You need to face the facts that we are living in a whole new world now, and things aren't going to be the way you want them anymore. We need willing, working and trustworthy people and those two fit the bill. Period. They're well behaved, too. Yes, I know the one had an outburst at first, but considering how you bunch are acting it just may have been justified. There are entirely too many things around here that are monumentally more important than your concern about two women who are keeping their private life private. And another thing, while I'm on the subject,” he stood up, anger flowing through him.
“Malitha George damn near caused my father to have a heart attack today over this shit,” he fumed. “You, her and Marla Jones better get it in your heads right now that I am not going to tolerate any of that kind of crap anymore. From now on, none of you are allowed to just march into Leon's house and complain about a damn thing. You got something you want to harp on, you come to me. And I'm warning you, Angela, it had better not be about those two young women. I'm tired of hearing it. People are allowed to sin whether we like it or not. There's more than one couple around here living in sin, you know. Stop casting stones. One of them is liable to come back on you.”
With that Gordon took his book and headed for bed, leaving a stunned wife behind. Angela watched him go, a frown creasing her forehead. She could count on one hand the times she had heard her husband curse. It was a sure sign that he was really, truly angry and not just 'aggravated' as he liked to call it. Gordon was one of the most even-tempered men she had ever known. She had always said that Gordy's even disposition was something he inherited from Gordon along with his name.
But he was angry tonight. She had pushed him too far. Malitha had been entirely in the wrong in how she had treated Leon, there was no doubt about that. True, she was upset because she was having to work with that . . . that woman, but that was no excuse for her to act as she had toward Angela's father-in-law. That appeared to have been a very big part of Gordon's anger, too. She could hardly blame him for that.
While she felt sure that she was right in what she was doing, there appeared to be no point in pursuing it for now. Clayton had been right it seemed. The three women did not wield nearly as much influence as they had imagined.
With anyone.
***
“You need to talk to Clayton about this mess, Lainie,” Marla said flatly. “This needs to stop before it gets out of hand.”
“What needs to stop?” Lainie's voice was cool. “Pushing Leon toward a stroke? Let me stop you before you get started,” Lainie held up a hand. “No. I won't talk to Clayton for you, and I won't make demands of him on your behalf. I know what you're up in arms about and I'm sick of hearing it. You three make me sick to my stomach.
“There are people starving out there,” she waved an arm in the general direction of Jordan, “and you three, four I guess with Franklin, are creating all this fuss over two women who are willing to work and contribute even in the most menial of ways? Complaining about how a self-professed thief, murderer and human trafficker was being treated? Are you shitting me?” she almost yelled. “Do you have any idea how many young women I helped to escape that kind of shit over the years? And you, you're angry because of how she was being treated? Where is your anger at how her victims were treated, Marla? Where is your outrage for the people she had murdered in order to take what she wanted from them? Hm? Where was all your hell raising over that?
“You know what you remind me of? You remind me of a social worker I knew once. She was chicken shit, so she didn't take truly endangered children from druggies and dope dealers or other thugs, afraid they'd do something to her. Instead, she saved her wrath for honest, hardworking people who fell victim to false claims or trumped up charges that inflated whatever had actually happened in order to make a case out of it. One of my girls took her daughter to the emergency room because she fell down and hurt her arm. The hospital called their social worker because a child was involved and when they found out the mother was a stripper, CPS was called for no other reason than that.
“My girl damn near lost her daughter over that kind of sanctimonious horse shit! You don't complain about people like that murdering bitch, but you’ll mouth off to Clay or Leon all day? Well you can kiss my ass, Marla, grandmother or no. How the hell can you sit here after what you went through and still think that things are in any way normal, anymore?” She wrenched the front door open.
“Get out,” her voice was suddenly lower. “And if you say anything else to Clay about this, with all he has on him, I will kick your ass myself. And I promise you this,” she all but snarled as she got nose to nose with the older woman. “Any of you pushes Leon into a heart attack and I will see you dead alongside him if I have to do it myself. If you think I'm joking, just try me. Now go. Do your cackling somewhere else.”
Marla wanted to argue but she knew that Lainie was angry and an angry Lainie was unpredictable at best and impossible to reason with. Marla had intended to basically coerce her granddaughter into pressuring Clayton to listen to her and the others and accede to their demands. Give them the consideration they were due. A plan that had backfired spectacularly before it had even been launched.
The walk back to Leon's seemed a good deal longer than the walk up to Clay's cabin had been.
***
“Have I missed something, somewhere?” Jose Juarez asked as he and Clay sat at a picnic table outside the old Troy home.
“What do you mean?”
“Where is all this hell raising coming from?” Jose asked. “No offense, I know your mother is one of the chief raisers. I don't understand where all this fuss is coming from over how we treated a murdering thug, woman or no, and about two lesbians? What the hell? Are we in the dark ages or something?”
“Small towns are insulated, man,” Clay shrugged. “Always slow to move forward. We're a lot like China in that we revere age as a guarantee of wisdom. We're conditioned to listen to and heed what older people say. In this case, the older people are being ignored and they don't like it. Simple.”
“It's bullshit is what it is,” Jose shook his head. “As if we ain't got enough to worry about? Really?”
“Really,” Clay nodded. “But I did have a pleasant surprise tonight,” he added. He outlined the discussion he'd had with Robert and Ronny. Jose was nodding in approval at the end.
“That's awesome, man. You absolutely deserve it.”
“Thanks man,” Clay clapped his friend on the shoulder. “I'm heading to bed, brother. We have to put together a package tomorrow for the trip to Jordan. We’ll need escorts and we’ll need a man on each tractor to ride shotgun. We’ll work it out in the morning, but I'm planning on sending one of the four-wheel Cougars and maybe one of those Guardians, too. Think it over and we’ll talk about i
t tomorrow. Hopefully all this crap will be over with by then.”
“Lord hear our prayer,” Jose snorted. “Night man.”
***
“We're sending one four-by-four and one six-wheel Cougar, escorting one of the armored rigs pulling the tractors on the big flatbed. One truck will follow carrying a fuel tank and tools in case they're needed. I wish we had a Humvee truck that we could use, but we don't, so the pickup is the best we can manage.
“Robert and Ronny are driving the tractors, with Titus and Kade riding shotgun. Nate will man the gun in the four wheel with Stacey driving and whoever is in command riding shotgun. X, Kevin and Zach will be in the six-wheel, with Zach on the gun and X in command of that vehicle in the event you get separated. Ellen will be driving the rig with Tandi riding shotgun. Ronny and Robert will be in the pickup.” Clay stood up from the listings and map on the table.
“This op leaves us severely undermanned here at home,” he told the assembled troops. “Stay alert to the radio at all times. It may be that we have to call some of you back here in a hurry. Do not let anything happen to those tractors,” he stressed. “Other than yourselves, those tractors are the most vital equipment we're sending. I want everything back, mind you, but if we lost those rigs then harvest and planting time around here reverts to a lot of horse and plow. I really do not want to deal with that if you don't mind,” he chuckled.
“Who's in command?” Mitchell asked.
“I'm working on that.”
***
“Rat, I need an answer,” Clay said gently. Shane was sitting on the roof of Building Two, outside the rear cupola. It was rarely used and gave him easy access to step onto the roof.
“I’ll go,” was the soft answer. “I hate it, but . . . like you said; me not seeing it won't change it. I just got to man up and get the job done. That's all. Grow a pair as Big John used to say,” he gave a short, bitter laugh devoid of humor.
“You don't want to go, you ain't gotta,” Clay reminded him. “I need folks here, too.”
“I'm the best man for the job,” Shane shrugged easily.
“That is true,” Clay agreed. “You've always been the face man in situations like these. I've seen you do this kind of thing in too many places. You won the church crowd over easy enough.”
“It wasn't that easy, but it also wasn't the hardest thing I've ever done, either,” Shane nodded absently. “I'm sorry for flaking, man,” he added after a moment of silence. “I don't know what came over me.”
“You're human, brother,” Clay replied easily. “That's what came over you. It's nothing to be ashamed of. I'd be more concerned if you weren't bothered by all this.”
“I suppose,” Shane nodded again, slowly. “Anyway, I’ll be down in a minute and get briefed. I assume you've already put a package together?”
“Yeah, but if you want a change we can look at it.”
“Nah. I trust you. Be down in a sec.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“All units check in,” Shane ordered over the radio.
“Jolly Green ready,” Tandi called from the big rig. Ellen hadn't been overly pleased at first to hear she was trading the Beast in for an army rig, but after a brief inspection of the armored truck she had decided she could bear up.
“Ghost ready,” Kevin Bodee called in from the six-wheel.
“Filling Station ready,” Robert laughed as he checked himself and Ronny in.
“All right then, we're good to go,” Shane replied. “Move it out.”
Slowly the small caravan began moving. The smaller four-wheel Cougar lead the way. Smaller didn't exactly mean small, but Stacey Pryor handled it just fine. Nate Caudell sat in the tub, a Mk 19 mounted on the cupola and his rifle in hand. There was also a smaller caliber machine gun inside if he needed it.
It was an uneventful journey to Jordan, the trip being just long enough for everyone to let their nerves settle a bit before ramping back up as they concentrated on seeking out any ambush that had been laid for them. They found none, but vigilance was important and they maintained it.
The rig and the two tractors now sported wooden signs that proclaimed they were part of 'Triple J Farms', of Caskell, Alabama. So far as anyone knew there was no 'Triple J Farms', just as there was no Caskell, Alabama, both being made up the previous day and put into words. No one knew if they would fool anyone, but it was worth the small amount of effort it took to try.
Shane found Mayor Pickett waiting for him on the small town square, really just a little park surrounded by rows of shops and a split rail fence as a border. Shane stepped down from the Cougar as the rest of the vehicles came to a stop still on the highway, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.
“You did make it, after all,” Pickett almost smiled but caught himself at the last minute.
“So I did,” Shane agreed. “We've got two tractors with operators. One will break ground while the other preps it for planting. I assume you gathered all the hand tools you could find?”
“That we did,” Pickett nodded firmly. “Should have more than enough to get the job done. We've already picked out several areas for plowing and have people standing by there to show you where we want to plow. As soon as you're done, the people in charge of that area will start planting. Today.”
“Outstanding,” Shane clapped his hands. “Let me get them unloaded and rolling. I'd like to be on my way back before night.”
“Scared of the dark?” Pickett teased.
“Scared of what's in it,” Shane corrected. He was not teasing at all.
***
“Man, they have had it hard,” Kade said softly as he rode beside Robert Sanders in the smaller of the two tractors. Smaller being relative as the rig he drove was a mammoth four-wheel drive beast.
“So they have,” Robert didn't look away from his work. He was operating in tight quarters as it was. “Those who are left are the strongest, I guess. I hope they are, anyway.”
“Are we gonna do anything else for 'em?” Kade asked.
“We're going to do all we can do that doesn't endanger our survival,” Robert promised the teen. “That's the plan. To get Jordan up off its knees and make it self-sufficient. Able to feed themselves.”
“What about protection?” Kade wondered.
“Not my department,” Robert admitted. “I'm a farmer.”
***
“What do you two think about Jordan?” Clay asked, looking from Greg Holloway to Sienna Newell and back again.
“I suppose I should move back home,” Greg sighed. “I'm healed now and fit for service. The ideal thing would be for me to move back and take over the marshal slot.”
“And leave us unprotected?” Clay feigned shock. “At the mercy of the big wide world without your Marine manliness here to shield our virtue?”
“Up yours,” Greg snorted, flipping his friend the bird and making Sienna burst out laughing.
“How long you two known each other?” she asked.
“Ever,” both said at the same time, laughing.
“Dude, I think you need to stay right here,” Clay turned serious. “Let them take responsibility for themselves and their own safety. You two can train a few candidates to provide security and law enforcement and we’ll let Tandi teach a few of them basic lifesaving. Maybe eventually let Patricia and Captain Thatcher teach a few to be paramedics, I guess. Let’s walk before we run, though. I don't trust that outfit enough to just watch you sashay back in there and set up house.”
“I didn't say I liked the idea, man,” Greg nodded. “Just said it's what I ought to do.”
“No, Boss is right,” Sienna was shaking her head. “That crowd don't know yet how it's gonna shake down. Let’s see what they're willing to do first and then go from there. How about that?”
“It's a good plan,” Greg agreed. “We need to provide sidearms and shotguns if they don't have them. Basic ammunition and enough to train with. We can put them through a rudimentary training, including some PT and basi
c law, but . . . Clay, without at least a judge, what are they going to do about enforcing anything? There's a lot involved with something like that, and LEO roles are just the tip of the iceberg.”
“I can't be helping that, Greg,” Clay shrugged. “There's probably at least one lawyer left in there somewhere. They're like cockroaches after all. They always turn up. They're going to have to do some of this on their own. How many people are you wanting to train up?”
“Probably six or so,” Greg replied. “Maybe eight if we can find them. There's a lot of people up there and they need to be able to have at least two people working all the time just for their own safety. If they want more, they can see to that themselves as well. I'd say we need six to eight handguns and . . . three, or maybe four shotguns if we get enough for four pairs. That's one scatter for each pair and that should be enough. That's also assuming they need them to start with. Whoever they choose may have their own. I suppose they probably have a rifle or two laying around. If they don't we may want to give them a couple, but nothing fancy. Mini-14 or something similar. Maybe even a deer rifle instead.”
“I like it,” Clay nodded. “We've got plenty of equipment we liberated from people attacking us,” he snorted. “We can outfit them from there, no problem. When do you want to try and do the training?”
“You know they're all going to recognize me, right?” Greg said in lieu of an answer.
“Can't be helped,” Clay nodded. “Once the plowing and what have you is finished, I don't mind them knowing we're the ones who are helping. Some are probably wondering where we are anyway. I just didn't want to risk a scene in town while the tractors were there, not to mention endangering Robert and Ronny.
“My plan is to give them a radio and maybe a solar charger,” Clay continued. “Also, we've got your old patrol car as well as one we took from Peyton that we kept after our altercation with him. They can use one of them, or both if you don't want to keep one.” He had originally intended for the marked patrol car to go to the church along with everything else, but Gordy had realized at the last minute that the car still had equipment inside and that the radio still worked, so he had returned to the farm with it. Now it would come in handy.
