by N. C. Reed
“If you promise to do what I tell, when I tell you, and not argue, then okay,” he said finally. “You can go.”
“Yes!” Lainie looked entirely too pleased with herself as she hugged him tightly. “What do I need to do?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
-
“What in the fires of hell is she doing here?”
Leon was usually grumpy first thing in the morning and today was no exception. Brick opened the driver's side rear door for him and Leon was already inside when he saw a mop of red hair in the front passenger seat.
“It's good to see you too, sugar,” Lainie turned to blow a kiss at Leon, which flustered him to no end for some reason.
“Stop doing that!” he sputtered. “I asked a question around here!”
“She wanted to ride along so I told her she could,” Clay shrugged. “It's a good way for the two of us to spend time together, and her being here might ease things along with folks who might otherwise be put off by two military vehicles full of armed men pulling up in their yard.”
“Humph,” Leon grumped, unable to find a hole in that argument.
“I'm glad you approve, Grand-pa,” Lainie needled him and Leon's sputtering began anew.
“Who said you could call me that!” he demanded, to cover himself. “Did you tell her to call me that!” he screeched at Clay.
“Well, I'm pretty much your grand-daughter-in-law, now ain't I?” she teased, leaning over to rub on Clay as she spoke. This drew a chuckle from Brick, who had settled in beside Leon behind Lainie.
“And now you?” Leon turned to the former bouncer, eyebrow raised. “Turning on me as well?”
“That is a harsh way to say it,” Brick tried and failed to hide another chuckle. “But yes.”
“Figures,” Leon muttered to himself. “You're all in it against me. All of you.”
“Here Mister Leon,” Janice Hardy's voice made them all jump. No one had seen her approach. She reached inside and set a small bag on Leon's lap.
“Just some lunch for later,” she smiled. “And here's your glasses,” she handed over a small case. “And your staff,” she added, sliding his long walking staff through the open window to Brick, who settled it between himself and Leon.
“Thank you darlin',” Leon was surprisingly gentle as he spoke to her, and Janice beamed a smile at him before running back to the house.
“We should have gotten you an assistant long before now,” Lainie mused.
“Normally I'd deny it, but when she chooses up one of these young bucks to marry on to, I will miss having her around to help,” Leon admitted, so reluctantly it was almost painful to hear.
“Well, you can always try and convince whoever it is to live with you too,” Clay shrugged.
“I would imagine no newly wedded couple wants an audience, Clayton Sanders,” Leon declared.
“I would imagine that to be true,” Clay had to agree. “Are we ready to go?”
“Yes, hell yes, I was ready the moment I got in here or I wouldn't have gotten in,” Leon returned to his default personality. “We're all sitting here waiting on you!”
“Well, we had to wait for Janice to make sure you were ready to go,” Clay shot back as he put the Hummer in gear. Leon was still spluttering at that when the Hummer pulled onto the road.
“Rolling,” he said simply into his radio.
“Roger that,” Leon heard Gordy's voice reply.
“Is he going too?” the Old Man demanded to know.
“He's driving that,” Clay replied as they passed the Troy Farm front gate where the Cougar sat, waiting.
“What?” Leon sounded alarmed. “What if something happens to him!”
“You do know that he went with us to get Abby, right?” Clay asked him, looking at him in the mirror. “And that he was part of the shootout with Peyton's group? Killed the man aiming at Dad, for that matter. Carried Samantha Walters out of the factory under fire, then drove that rig out of town still under fire.”
“He did?” Leon's tune changed a bit. “Well, how 'bout that? Guess his genes are kicking in after all,” Leon sniffed, settling back in pride.
“I'm sure that's it, Pa,” Clay rolled his eyes in the front seat. “Where are we going?” he asked before Leon could continue.
“First person I want to see is Joshua Webb,” Leon told him. “Member him?”
“Webb that used to run trap lines and tan hides?” Clay asked. “Had like eight sons or something and one daughter? That Webb?”
“That Webb,” Leon confirmed. “He'd be a good man to have with us regardless, but him knowing how to trap and how to tan would be worth its weight alone. And it's a skill he can pass on. No sense in wasting cowhides, or any other hides we get for that matter.”
“No argument from me.”
-
Joshua Webb lived deep into the woods south of Jordan. A good five miles from the nearest house, his family had a small fifty-acre farm with three run down houses in the center of it. Surrounded by pulp woods on all sides, the houses were isolated from the rest of the world by miles of trees and hills. Three of his sons were married and the others were of marrying age or would be soon. His daughter was the youngest of the nine Webb offspring, and all of them lived here, scratching a living out of their small piece of the world.
Numerous dogs began braying as soon as the Hummer started down the road to the cluster of houses. Clay had Gordy stop in view of the homes, keeping the Cougar buttoned up tight and watching their back as well as the surrounding area. By the time they had reached a reasonable distance from the house, Clay's neck was crawling.
“Somebody's drawing down on us,” he said quietly. “It's not unexpected, but I don't care much for it.”
“They won't shoot until they know they have to,” Leon assured him. “Ole Josh squeezes a nickel til the buffalo grunts, he does. Taught his boys the same way. They won't waste a shell on a car.”
“Well that's good news, now ain't it?” Lainie muttered.
“Won't shoot with you visible in the front seat, either,” Leon continued. “He's got five sons still to marry off,” he added with a near gleeful cackle.
“Wonderful,” Lainie rolled her eyes.
“Ah, it ain't that bad,” Leon waved her off. “Brick. You're up,” he turned to his bodyguard.
“Yes sir,” Brick nodded and got out before anyone could say anything. He circled behind the Hummer to open Leon's door for him. Leon slid out of the vehicle with staff in hand and Brick closed the door after him, then followed two steps behind as Leon started walking toward the front of the vehicle.
“That's far enough!” a voice called out from somewhere around the houses. “What do you want?”
“Now is that any way to talk to friends and neighbors Josh Webb?” Leon demanded. “I'm a good mind to just leave!”
“Leon?” the voice sounded less sure. “Leon what the hell are you doing with those government types?” the voice demanded. 'Josh' wasn't coming out quite so fast.
“They ain't government types, they work for me,” Leon called back. “Are we gonna stand here and yell at each other all day? Cause I got business to talk over and this is tiresome.”
“Really? You got vehicles that run still?”
“A few,” Leon nodded. “Not many, but some. These here was proofed against what happened, but others not so much. We saved most of our vehicles, or at least I think we did, but gas is hard to get so we don't use 'em much. Are you coming out or not, Joshua? I ain't gonna stand here all day hollering at your house!”
“All right, all right,” a large man in overalls and no shirt walked into view, rifle hanging in his hands. “Ain't no need to get riled. Body can't be too awful careful these days I reckon.”
“Have to give you that one,” Leon nodded in agreement. “How you faring?”
“Okay, 'cept for Seth,” the big man replied. “He done got a cut on his leg and looks like it's infected. His Mamma is trying to draw the puss out with salts, but.
. .I don't know. Have to wait and see.”
“Boy, didn't you say you brought your medic along?” Leon asked Clay.
“Yeah,” Clay nodded. “Doubt he can help with something like-”
“Josh, I got a medic with me,” Leon turned back to his friend. “Okay for me to bring up the other vehicle? He's in there. Be glad to let him take a look if you want.”
“I'd be obliged, then,” Josh nodded. “Just don't be doing nothing we'd all regret,” he semi-warned.
“Josh, I ain't a damn idiot, ya know,” Leon said even as he motioned for Clay to call the others up. “Seth might be down, but I suspect the rest are hid out watching right now. And I didn't come here looking for trouble to start with. Told you, I got business to discuss. Assuming you're interested.”
“Reckon talk never hurt nothing,” Webb nodded. “Come on up, then.”
-
“You've been soaking it in salts like this regular?” Maseo asked.
The Webb family hadn't known at first just exactly what to make of Tandi Maseo. The small oriental man had walked in like he was supposed to be there however, and immediately started a rapport with both Seth and Deborah, his mother, putting both at ease as he examined the boy's leg.
“Yes,” she nodded. “I also put a milk and bread poultice on it at night and that has helped draw out the poison.”
“Yes ma'am,” Tandi nodded. “What you've done has probably saved your son's life, ma'am,” he told her after another minute of examination. “Certainly saved his leg. It hasn't gotten rid of the infection, but it has kept it from spreading, or going septic. Well done,” he smiled at her.
Tandi was an instant hit. His small stature, good looks and big smile were hard to resist, and his medical knowledge was a treasure. He had used all this in a dozen different nations around the world to integrate himself and his team into societies where medicine was hard to get. It worked just as well here and now, with modern medicine firmly out of reach of most of America by now.
“Thank you,” Deborah beamed. “Can you help him?”
“I can't do it here,” Tandi admitted. “We can carry him to the clinic and treat him there. Miss Patricia would actually be a better choice for that than I am, although I could do it. I would expect her to use…”
“Well, looks like your boy 'll be okay,” Leon said as Tandi went on, explaining the most likely treatment for her youngest son.
“I'm beholden,” Webb nodded. “What business was it you wanted to talk about?”
“Got a proposition for ya,” Leon smiled. “How'd you like to move?”
-
“Leon, it ain't that it's a bad idea at all, but. . .my family has lived on this land for five generations. My young 'uns will make it six. My ancestors is buried here. That's a lot to give up.”
“Ain't asking you to sell the place, or trade it off, either,” Leon fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Might come a time when you want to come back here, you know. What I'm trying to do right now is gather good folk together to keep safe and try and rebuild something. We still got a few things, for now, but that stuff won't last. We need to be using that advantage to build down to something we can sustain on our own.”
“Now we got a bit of electricity at the moment, enough to run medical machines and to occasionally have hot water we ain't go to boil on a fire. We still got our equipment, but sooner or later something will bust or wear out that we ain't got the part for and that 'll be about it. It won't be too many years til we're back to using horses and mules for everything from riding to hauling to plowing.”
“What I'm looking to do is have a small community where everyone is fed and their needs met as near as we can get for as long as we can. Meanwhile, we prepare the next generations for limited or no electric, old fashioned medical remedies and old ways of doing stuff. Things we know and can teach right now that will be priceless in years to come.”
“You don't reckon this will end, do you,” Webb mused, more of a statement than a question.
“I figure it might one day,” Leon admitted. “But I think that day is long into the future and me and you won't live to see it. I doubt Gordon will, and it ain't likely that my grown grand-kids will unless they make it to my age. And they ain't near as tough as I am.”
“Oh boy,” Clay groaned. “Here we go.”
“So, this town you're talking about sounds more like a commune to me,” Webb said. “I don't care for that kind of life, Leon. Giving what I earn to someone else like that.”
“And getting from them in return,” Leon corrected. “This ain't some kind of Commie horseshit. I ain't going for that no more than you. I ain't gonna ask just anybody to come settle on or near my land, Joshua. Just people who will work and can take care of themselves. I done told you about Peyton and his damn posse. You really think someone else won't think of all that? Start rounding up pretty girls and throwing 'em in a cell somewhere for nefarious uses?”
“Nefarious?” Clay looked at Lainie, then at Brick. “Did he just use 'nefarious' in a sentence?”
“You wanna keep eating solid food, boy?” Leon growled at him, making Clay and the others chuckle.
“You the one did for them at the diner, ain't you?” Webb asked, looking at Clay.
“Yes sir,” he said simply, nodding slightly.
“That was okay,” Webb nodded. “What you think about all this?” he asked, nodding to Leon.
“Well, officially I'm all for it since I want to keep eating solid food,” Clay grinned, drawing a guffaw from Webb and another growl along with muttered curses from Leon.
“In all seriousness, I hadn't thought of it until the Old Man mentioned it, but he's right,” Clay went on. “Truth is, we ourselves will probably be okay, at least in the short run, but. . .we do have to think about the generation we're leaving behind. And the violence we've seen so far will just get worse, probably sooner rather than later. Without organization and without manpower, they will eventually get us all, picking us off one by one.”
“We've got or can get plenty of land to grow on, and we have abundant clean water, so no one can threaten us with that. With a small settlement of good, hard working people like Leon is talking about, we can protect ourselves and hold our own against pretty much anyone trying to set up their own little kingdom. We can expect groups claiming to represent 'the people' to start coming through any time demanding we surrender all weapons and food to them, and we 'll get ration coupons or some such crap as that so that we can go to their central location and get our 'fair share' of our own food back. And that location will likely be in Peabody, or somewhere else that it's damn near impossible to get to for those of us this far out without a car.”
“If we're strong enough, we can resist that. Ignore it even. But only if we're strong enough.”
“My boys ain't no soldiers,” Webb told Leon. “I kept them outta the government's clutches.”
“They can shoot the ears off a fly though, and so can you,” Leon shot back. “Ain't looking for soldiers. Looking for working folks that can also shoot and defend themselves. Any fighting you and your boys do will be to protect themselves and our food sources, nothing more.”
“He's right,” Clay nodded. “If we have to take action against someone away from the farm, my men and I will handle that.”
Webb was clearly leaning toward it but hesitated.
“Come and look things over,” Leon told him. “We can take you, Deborah and the boy over there and show you exactly what I got in mind. Boy needs to go over there to let Patty have a look at him anyway, and I know Deb ain't gonna want to let him go alone. You don't like the set-up, well, you ain't got to stay. Soon as Seth is better, we bring you back.”
“And how long will that be?” Webb asked, turning to Tandi Maseo.
“Hard to say exactly, but I'd guess two, maybe three days of treatment before Miss Patricia would be happy about letting him go. I expect her to give him a strong dose of antibiotics for two or three days, but she will also li
kely open and drain the wound, too. He will need to stay off it for a few days as much as he can and he will likely need stitches.”
“So, three days, then?” Webb pressed.
“That's a guess, but a pretty good one,” Maseo nodded, packing his own gear. “It will depend on how comfortable she is with his healing and how she chooses to treat it. It's a bad infection, but thanks to Mrs. Webb it's not life threatening. Were it not for her work, your son would at least be losing his leg, and possibly be beyond saving. She's worked a wonder here,” he praised the woman's skill, smiling at her as he did so.
“She's always been smart,” Webb nodded in agreement.
“And them smarts would be worth a lot to us as a group, too,” Leon seized that as another opening. “What medicines we got won't last forever. Even if we don't use 'em they get old and lose their mojo. Having someone that can teach old ways that work, that's a marketable skill all its own.”
“But you ain't talking about a market, Leon,” Webb reminded him.
“But I am,” Leon shot back. “Just not at first while we get going. By spring, when everyone can get in some labor at something, folks start making and scrounging for their own and using that to trade. I'm talking about a barter society, Joshua, not a damn hippie commune! Somebody ain't got nothing to offer ain't got no place there. See what I mean?”
“What do I offer then?” Webb asked. “Aside from my boys as soldiers.”
“I told you I ain't looking for soldiers,” Leon snapped at him. “You know how to tan a hide and do it the old way. I bet you done taught your boys that too. Right?”
“Well, yes, but. . .I imagine anyone can do that,” Webb looked puzzled.
“You'd be wrong, Mister Webb,” Clay spoke up before Leon could say anything. “I've been all over the world, sir. Can speak a dozen languages at least to some degree, and can use about any weapon short of a space laser. But I can't tan a hide. And I don't know of a single person at the farm who can either. We never had the need for it until now.”
This seemed to surprise Josh Webb. Like many rural southerners, he took what he himself could do for granted, assuming that if he could do it, anyone could. He saw nothing special about himself or his skills. Clearly Leon Sanders and his grandson did not share that opinion.
