by Kate Morris
“No, that wouldn’t be very honorable of you.”
“I agree.”
“And how long do you intend on being the President, Mr. Hofstetter? I seem to recall the Twenty-second Amendment laying out the rules of Presidential term limits.”
Another scornful statement by her grandfather. The man on the President’s left does not seem amused by her grandfather’s criticisms. The President, however, simply offers a pained grin.
“And who is this little one?” he asks instead of Mary.
“My granddaughter, Hannah, and her daughter Mary,” Grandpa states proudly.
“She’s adorable,” he says.
“Thank you, sir,” Hannah says and extends her hand about three feet to the left of the man. Reagan recognizes the realization she sees in his eyes as he figures it out that Hannah is blind. He reaches for her hand and clasps it with both of his.
“A pleasure, ma’am,” he says, staring at Hannie as if he is in love with her already. She tends to have that effect on men.
“We have many, many more children in that house behind us,” Grandpa tells the man, who flinches slightly. “Mostly my grandchildren. One is just a few months old.”
“We didn’t come here to harm you or them, sir,” Ezra states, and it actually comes off as believable, even for a politician.
“Why are you here then?”
“Where is Robert McClane, your son? I know who you are. I know about this farm. I know he came here.”
It is Grandpa’s turn to sigh, “I buried my son a few days ago. It would seem that his man, Parker, was poisoning my son.”
This visibly startles the President. “What? I’m…I’m so sorry. Please accept my condolences.”
Neither says anything for a few moments while the acting President contemplates what he’s heard. Supposedly, her father and he used to be friends. He seems visibly shaken.
“I’m afraid, Mr. President,” Grandpa starts, “that you have been double-crossed by this Parker, as well. I would say he played you both for fools. My son only discovered it too late.”
He pauses, his left eye twitching a few times before answering, “Yes, so it would seem.”
“And he has pitted the two of you against one another. You’ve wasted time and resources and energy, and I hope not men’s lives, to come here to wage war against a man who is dead already, a man who was also duped by the same one who fooled you.”
“Where is Parker?” he asks, his tone slightly angrier this time.
“I’m also afraid I have bad news on that front, too,” Grandpa tells the man. “He was killed by one of our men the other night. He’d kidnapped one of our women, the wife of one of my grandsons.”
Reagan tries not to get choked up that Grandpa just referred to Cory as his grandson.
“He has lied and schemed and caused the deaths of hundreds if not thousands of people in this area,” Grandpa further explains. “He ordered people on the roads to be robbed, murdered, enslaved. He did it under the guise of being the new President.”
“What?”
“And it was easy because people don’t know about you. We certainly didn’t until Robert came home.”
She notices that her grandfather refers to this as ‘home’ and figures he does so on purpose to convey to this man that this is not just some random new settlement by displaced people. The McClane farm is their home, always has been, and always will be.
“Oh…well…,” he stammers and stares momentarily at the ground, clearly taken aback by everything that is coming at him.
“Why did you waste the manpower, the sheer force, and the resources it would’ve taken now to move an army of this size to come after my son? Most people aren’t even free to move about in this great country anymore, and yet, here you are traveled so far to pursue one man. What kind of President do you want to be, son? You need to set the example, show the people by example, and lead them by establishing law and order again.”
Her grandfather is giving the President of the United States a full-blown Grandpa style lecture.
“He…Parker made it seem…uh…” he stammers as if someone is asking him to take a stance during an election debate on the Second Amendment. “I’m not sure what to say, Dr. McClane.”
“It seems to me that you’ve wasted your time and expended a lot of energy to do the work of an evil man, who was tricking you into doing his dirty deeds for him.”
“Yes, it would seem so.”
“He convinced my son that you wanted a communistic society out there. He convinced you that my son wanted to steal your people, your resources, and your title, yes?”
He nods, staring at the ground as if he can’t quite figure it all out. Everything he knew, all the reasons he just traveled thousands of miles, are blowing up in his face. He must feel terribly stupid. She just hopes he doesn’t react in an equally foolish way and still want to wage war on them.
“Perhaps you could come inside, and we could discuss this further,” Grandpa offers. “There is much to go over. You don’t even know the half of it yet.”
Ezra’s head jerks up from studying the dirt to look Grandpa directly in the eye. It seems as if he is trying to ascertain whether or not to trust him.
“You can bring your two men here,” he says, indicating his bodyguards.
Ezra nods, “Yes, yes, I think that would be a good idea.”
“Diplomacy and good discussions are how our forefathers worked out their issues,” Grandpa says, turning to go and offering the acting President a history lesson as they walk. “Do you know Sam Adams didn’t even go to the Constitutional Convention?”
“No, I didn’t know that.”
“Neither did Patrick Henry and John Hancock,” her grandfather says, making Reagan smile.
“Patrick Henry was quite the rabble-rouser,” the President comments, getting a chuckle from her grandfather.
“My family has lived on this farm for three generations. It sometimes feels like we are living in 1776 again,” he explains, to which the man glances around with the same fond admiration everyone does when they first step onto McClane land. Grandpa just keeps talking as if he is introducing a new friend to the farm and further expands on the farm’s history.
She slings her rifle and walks forward where she flanks her grandfather until they reach the back porch.
“My other granddaughter and also a doctor, Reagan Harrison,” he says, introducing her. Reagan only gives the man a nod. She does not extend her hand. “She’s as smart as a whip. Don’t let her beauty fool you.”
“Grandpa,” she says with a snort.
“Well, sir,” the President says, “most women are smarter. My wife used to say if women ran our great planet, we wouldn’t be in the position we are today.”
“She sounds like a smart woman,” Grandpa praises and opens the kitchen door.
“She was,” he says, confirming her death.
“It seems as if we’ve both lost too many people already, Mr. Hofstetter,” he says.
“Yes, sir,” he agrees and follows Grandpa into the kitchen.
“I’ll make some coffee, Grandpa,” Hannie volunteers, of course. She literally just helped stop a civil war with her charm and innocence and demure beauty. Reagan wonders if she realizes it. Probably. Of all the ‘smart’ women, Hannah is the smartest by far because she was raised by the smartest woman who ever lived, Grams.
A few of the family members- herself, John, Derek, and Sue attend the meeting with the President, along with one of his men while the other stands guard outside of the office. Kelly stands opposite him against the other wall. After a while, she hears Kelly talking to the man. They even laugh a few times. She’s pretty sure he’s ex-military, too, and that they are sharing war stories now.
They spend a few hours discussing the betrayal of Parker, the misunderstandings, and manipulations. Some of what he shares with her makes Reagan so angry again. The man was pure evil. So many men had trusted him, and he’d betrayed that trust.
>
Grandpa offers the President and his men the opportunity to stay on the farm for a few days while they rest and regroup for the long journey back to Colorado. There will be no war today and hopefully none in the future. They have come to a peace accord and have laid out plans for the future and how they’ll govern the country. Reagan hopes the man is being genuine with them. Her grandfather seems to trust him or is faking it better than she would’ve given him credit for being able to pull off.
The President and his caravan camp on the farm for almost a week, during which her grandfather conducts meetings with him, his few advisors, and Derek, who will be running Fort Knox. Dave the Mechanic, Henry, Paul and K-Dog, as well as some of their neighbors, are also present as they run their own communities and want to be doing so in compliance with the new plans. Reagan feels anxious about having people on the farm and is relieved when they finally pull away and leave. Her grandfather sits on the long front porch rocking Mary on his lap and occasionally takes a puff of his pipe. She doesn’t know what he’s thinking but wishes she did. He has been quiet and contemplative lately. She takes him a mug of coffee, a fifty-pound peace offering bag from the President, and kisses him on the cheek before leaving him to his thoughts.
She and John go for a ride, a perimeter check just to make sure none of the President’s people decided to stay.
“It feels good to be out like this,” she comments as she maneuvers Harry around a fallen branch on the path.
“Yes, it does,” her husband agrees. “Are you doing ok, boss?”
“Yeah, why do you ask?”
He shrugs and says, “I know you don’t like having people around like that.
“I know, but I’m just glad Grandpa was able to get the situation under control.”
“Yes, I agree,” he says. “That could’ve been bad.”
“I hope we can maintain a friendship with him and his people,” she reveals what has her worried.
“I think Derek will be able to handle that even after your grandfather…you know, just someday,” he says, not wanting to say what they’re both thinking.
She nods because saying anything is too painful.
“Hey, don’t worry,” he says, picking up on her mood change and reaching for her hand. “He’s not going anywhere anytime soon, babe.”
Reagan nods again, and John suggests they stop and walk for a while.
“Getting out of shape?” she teases.
“I’m going to be walking like a cowboy all bow-legged for the rest of the day,” he jokes and ties his horse’s reins to a branch.
Reagan does the same and stretches her back. She hasn’t ridden much lately, either, and her body is letting her know. She saunters over to her husband and runs her hands up the front of him before resting on his pecs. John’s muscles jump beneath her hands.
“I wonder if I could also make you sore enough to walk funny,” she murmurs and reaches up on tip-toe to kiss his neck.
It’s all the encouragement her husband needs. His arms immediately wrap around her middle. John lifts her clean off the ground like he always does and has her pressed up against the thick trunk of an oak tree. His mouth moves greedily on hers. His hands roam of their own free will on her body. It has been a while since they have been alone like this. Reagan doesn’t even notice the slight chill still lingering in the air. John pulls out a blanket, rolled and secured behind his saddle, and lays it on the ground.
“How…did you pack that on purpose?” she asks.
Her answer is a grin.
“John Harrison, you are a devious-minded man,” she playfully scolds as he leads her to and lays her down on the blanket.
“You knew what you were getting into when you married me,” he says and proceeds to demonstrate that again thoroughly.
After they have dressed and she is lying in the crook of his arm, Reagan asks, “Are you sad that Derek is leaving?”
His fingers rub at her scalp, and he is quiet for a moment before answering, “He’ll be back. This won’t be forever.”
“I feel like it is, John,” she says and raises on one elbow to look down at him. She can tell that he is only saying this to appease her. The frown on his sculpted mouth reveals his lie.
“Derek was born to lead, babe,” he says. “I can’t hold him back. No, I don’t want him to leave, but at least he’s only going a few hours north. I was worried for a minute there that the President was going to ask him to go with him to Colorado.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Reagan remembers from one of the many meetings.
“I think someday, if the President combines the bunker people in Colorado with the base like he was talking about, Derek will eventually become President.”
“Whoa,” she reflects with surprise. “Derek the President?”
“Yeah, and so what kind of person would I be if I asked my brother not to go because I’m going to miss him?” he says, showing his responsibility, his loyalty to his family, and the strong sense of morality that drew her to him in the first place.
“I guess so,” she agrees. “This sucks. I’m going to miss Sue and the kids.”
“We’ll see them,” he assures her. “Don’t worry. It sounds like the Prez is gonna share some of their fuel ideas with us and vice versa. We’ve got radio coms with him now. I think the sharing of ideas is going to greatly improve everyone’s lives again. And don’t worry about their safety. The base is safer than here. I figure the President scoped it out first with scouts and figured it was easier trying to draw Robert out by coming here.”
“Yeah,” she says, still sad her sister is leaving in a few days. “At least nobody else is going.”
“For now,” he comments.
“Are you not telling me something?”
John sighs and explains, “Nothing is forever, boss. Even if others leave to offer service to our fledgling government, they won’t be gone forever, and they’ll always be a part of our family.”
This thought frightens Reagan. There is no ‘forever’ anymore. The future isn’t promised to any of them. They have to fight for every day, every hour, sometimes every second. Life is fragile, precious now. But her husband is right about one thing, family is forever, even if some of them are taken away from her for a while. They’ll always have the farm to come home to. The McClane farm is their base of operation, their safe sanctuary, their ancestral homeland.
She hooks her leg over her husband’s thick thigh and pulls him closer. Her fingers strum through the dark hair on his chest peeking out of the neckline of his long-sleeved tee and then trace his jawline. As long as she has him by her side, they can face anything together because for generations, that is how this land flourished, grew, became what it is today. She has every intention of carrying on that tradition. This land is worth dying for, and she’ll gratefully give her own dying breath to hold onto it. She has to. Someday when the family that is leaving wants to return to it, the farm will still belong to them. Nobody and nothing can ever change that. Their roots are deeply embedded in the very soil. Their dreams are pinned to every blade of grass, every leaf of every tree. Their futures are secured by this land. The McClane farm is their legacy.
Epilogue
Herbert McClane
After their visit with the President, Herb found himself wondering what the future would hold for his family. Ezra Hofstetter seemed like a good person, and he can understand why the people in Colorado elected him to lead them. He is fair and just, honest and capable. Gaining a new ally from their union was good for the entire state of Tennessee and Fort Knox. As time goes by, their friendship will strengthen, and he’ll eventually move the people this way. Herb is sure of it.
Losing Derek and Susan and their children to the service of running Fort Knox was not something he wanted to do. However, he understood the necessity of it, even before his son spoke with him. He and Derek had already talked it over, and both realized someone would need to run the fort eventually. There were simply too many people living there to let the
m fend for themselves. Chaos would’ve quickly ensued after his son’s death. Herb cringes at the thought of what would’ve happened had they not figured out it was Parker who was the traitor in their midst and had been allowed to go on to govern the fort. Robert never really wanted to run the fort anyway. His heart wasn’t in it anymore. It is also probably why he was giving Parker so much leeway in how it was being handled and established. Unfortunately, he doesn’t think Susan will be returning to the farm anytime soon. It will likely be years before they will be able to come home for good. They have been separated from her before. This time just feels a little harder.
Losing his son was also particularly difficult. He will miss him greatly but knows he is with his mother now and in a better place and in a better vessel without pain and regret and illness. His son told him about Lucy and also confessed he was going to tell Reagan. The others do not know, nor will Herb ever tell them. As far as he’s concerned, Lucas is just as much his grandson as the girls are his granddaughters. His grandson doesn’t know, but, of course, his mother does, and if she chooses to tell her only son her secret someday, then Herb will stand by her decision. If not, he’ll respect that decision, as well.
He is anxiously awaiting the arrival of his newest great-grandchild thanks to Hannah and Kelly. She is due very soon, and he is as excited with this one as he was with the others.
“Grandpa?” Gretchen asks from the open front door. “Want a coffee? Hannah told me to deliver this.”
His youngest granddaughter brings a steaming mug toward him and places it on the stand next to the porch swing where he is seated watching the children play on the swingset.
“Thank you so much, my dear,” he says with a smile for his shy, introverted and angry granddaughter. Herb fears that she did not make peace with her father before he died. Sometimes the things we do when we’re young we come to regret later in life. Unfortunately, that’s just how life works. Nobody gets out of it without regrets of some kind. He just doesn’t want her conscience weighed down with anger and regret and spite. She’s too young.
“Sure,” she says tentatively.
