by E A Lake
"Your parents still love you," he answered sincerely. "Now I know you wanted something different from Ed, but the fact is that they care for and love you. I'd give anything just to see my ma and pa one more time and leave with the feeling I have right now."
I shook my head, studying the intersection before me. "I think you were somewhere different than I just was. Maybe you had one of those out-of-body experiences people used to talk about. What I saw–"
"Was exactly what you wanted to see," he shot back. "You expected bullshit and you got bullshit. But that wasn't what the real message was." He poked at my right arm. "They're worried about you; they still care. You see it as a no from two strangers. What I saw was two people who might be willing to help you if you care to listen to them."
"It was all bullshit, Art," I replied. "Yeah, it's what I expected; but to be honest, it was still disappointing. Case closed; we'll have to find someone else to help."
He chuckled several times and went back to whistling. I returned to my dread of what might be happening to Chloe and Avellyn, even as we moseyed home.
By the time we dismounted back home, I'd threatened to shoot Art no less than a half-dozen times. I wanted to sulk, he wanted to whistle Onward Christian Soldiers about 700 times. My mood was worse until I saw Morgan storm down the steps and start directly for me. Shit, what now?
"Are you embarrassed of me?!" she shrieked, punching the left side of my chest. "Am I that big of a loser that you wouldn't take me to see your parents?"
Crap. Someone had spilled the beans. I wanted to ask who might have done such a dastardly deed, but that would have contradicted the angle I planned on already using when the subject came up.
"Slow down, sweetie," I said as sweetly as I could.
She stopped and snorted at me.
"Good try, slick," she replied, crossing her arms. "Cooley told me all about who you went to see. Ed and Lisa my ass. How about Mom and Dad? That a little more honest?"
I cocked my head, glaring at her. "Honesty? You want honesty?" I laughed like a maniac. "I'm still waiting for your next lie to surface. Please try something a little better than that."
She never missed a beat – not that I expected she would. Taking another swing at me, which I dodged easily, she became even more upset.
"I've been protecting you," she spewed. "You and your delicate little feelings. You're embarrassed of me. There's a big difference between the two."
I tried to chase her away by flipping my hands in her direction, but she stood firm. "My parents are religious freaks. My dad is the leader of some crazy cult."
"The Current Day Church they call themselves," Art inserted, nodding and smiling like he actually thought he was helping.
"The point is," I continued, "they hate me. They think I'm a heathen, unworthy. There was no sense in dragging you up there to listen to their shit – his shit."
"Maybe I wanted to be asked," she replied, shooting me one of those you-need-to-think-about-me-sometimes looks.
"He greeted me with a two-by-four," I replied, a little less sharply. "Morgan, I'll take you anywhere you want to go. Just don't ever expect me to take you to meet the parents. That'll never happen."
She gave me a small hug and seemed satisfied with the explanation. That was fine. I needed to be done with her and go find Cooley.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-THREE
The next morning, I held an all-staff meeting at the office. Art, Cooley and Petri listened as I explained the only correct answers to Morgan's inquiries were "not sure", "I don't know" and "I haven't a clue where Quinn went". I wasn't trying to keep secrets. No, I was just trying to keep things calm at home, just the way I liked them.
The trio smiled and nodded, nodded and smiled, and said they understood. Since I was as direct as possible with my feelings, I hoped they did. Hoped, but still I doubted they got a thing.
Art still called Morgan the Missus. He said if I wanted to be a better husband, I needed to take the reins of my relationship. I tried to remind him I wasn't married time and time again, but he seemed to always miss that point. If only I had a better grip on things, he claimed, I'd understand what he meant. I doubted I'd ever understand Morgan enough to feel like I had any sort of grip on anything.
Petri and Cooley were so far from understanding women, it was laughable. When they weren't asking me what Morgan looked like naked, they were wondering amongst themselves how big her jugs were – their words, not mine. Every time she walked into the room, they both became mute and stared at the floor, afraid to look my girlfriend or her friends or almost any woman in the eyes.
"I always heard you ain't supposed to keep secrets from your significant other," Petri stated after I had adjourned the pointless meeting. "Secrets ain't healthy, people claim."
God, didn't he have kittens to go play with?
"These aren't secrets," I replied, refusing to make eye contact with the man who thought teets and tits weren't the same thing. At least he claimed as much in an hour-long debate with Cooley one day. Otherwise, why wouldn't they both be called tits?
He gazed at me like I'd just said something in a foreign tongue. "I don't get it."
He didn't get a lot of things. "I didn't lie to Morgan about who Ed was. I just didn't want to tell her the truth until I got back." Okay, that was a lie. I had no intentions of telling Morgan anything of the sort. "I didn't tell her that Ed wasn't my father. See?"
Yeah, that helped. Now he was more confused.
"So, did you steal from Shaklin, you suppose?" he asked as though he'd given it some thought and had an actual opinion on the topic. "Because if you look at it from one side, you did. From the other side, you're just a common thief. Now I think you're an okay man. Hell Sheriff, you're the best. But sometimes you kind of confuse me."
My head began to ache so badly, I worried I might lose my memory again.
"You're forgetting something, Petri," I said evenly through gritted teeth. "I freed five slaves. I didn't steal anything."
His face lit up like a child on Christmas morning. "Oh, yeah. I always forget that part."
My headache intensified. I must have been crazy to give such an imbecile a loaded weapon.
"Likewise, I only told Morgan I was going to see Ed. I never said I wasn't related to him." He nodded as if he finally understood. Fat chance at that. "So, we okay here?"
He nodded and I shooed him away. I had other problems. I needed to figure out how to get my friend and her daughter back as well as rescue seven other women. Help was needed; help I hadn't been able to find yet. But help was on its way. Sort of.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-FOUR
I gawked at the hulk of a man standing over my desk two days later. Somehow, I'd forgotten someone of his stature was still in town. Seeing him again, how I’d forgotten that was beyond me.
"I understand you got problems with Morgan," Alvin Cooper said in a calm voice, planting his massive palms on my desk. "I can help."
"I appreciate that," I replied calmly, not sure what his angle was. "But Morgan and I don't really have any problems."
His dry lips twitched as he looked away and then back at me. To say he had a twinkle in his eye would have been wrong; his eyes were far too large to twinkle.
"That ain't what Cooley told me Petri told him." My rats rose to the surface. Good; both of them were getting a stern talking to later.
I tried to refocus the conversation. "I don't need help with my relationship, Brutus. What I need is help in coming up with a plan and people to help rescue Chloe and Avellyn and the others from Shaklin."
The behemoth stood tall and smiled. God, he was massive. "I'm here to help in any way I can, Sheriff. You just tell me what you need and I'll take care of it."
I sighed, looking way from him. "What I really need is a couple hundred people to help put pressure on Shaklin."
"Not sure how I can help with that," Alvin replied, rubbing his smooth, shaved face. "I can go and shake some sense into the townspeople. Mayb
e crack some heads you know, like people say."
Oh God, that was a terrible idea...wasn't it? No, I couldn't turn Brutus loose on the poor people of Pimento. They'd all moved away, fearing for their lives. It was a terrible idea. Right?
"I think we need a subtler approach," I replied, careful to sound as positive as possible. No sense in turning a large ally into a pissed-off adversary. "I may still have a couple more ideas I want to try before we do some sort of forced conscription."
He shrugged and seemed okay with the rejection. Good. "Just tell me how I can help." His eyes narrowed as he leaned on my desk, which made the old wood stress and creak. "You know Morgan wants you to marry her, don't you?"
I tried to hide my shock. Certainly when my mouth dropped open, I was busted.
"Huh, guess you didn't," he continued. "You need to open your eyes a little more, Sheriff. There's a lot of life going on everywhere, but you're not paying attention."
"Why would she want to get married at such a terrible time?" I questioned aloud, though mostly to myself.
"You'll have to ask her," Alvin replied, standing tall again. "Just girl talk I'm privy to. Hang out with Sara enough and you learn lots of interesting stuff. You gonna let Robert and Charolette get hitched?"
I shook my head. Where were the questions coming from? "Can't see where that's my call. Up to them, the way I see it."
Brutus laughed loudly. "Seems like Charolette thinks your opinion matters. Can't say why, just what I've heard. Robert's so in love, he don't know up from down anymore. Maybe you'd better do some talking and listening around home. Seems like you're missing out on a lot." He gave a wave as he left. "See ya later."
I nodded absentmindedly. I was missing out on life, wasn't I?
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-FIVE
"Alvin's got a big mouth," Morgan griped when I asked her about Charolette and Robert. I wasn't sure what reaction I had expected, but that wasn't it.
"Alvin's got a big everything," I joked, trying to keep the conversation light. "But here's my question: why don't they just get married? They don't need my permission."
She stared at me, stroking her chin. She had something to say, but seemed to be tempering it. How un-Morgan of her.
"They kind of think they do," she replied quietly. "I don't know if you've ever realized this, but people fear and respect you around here. No one wants to piss you off for fear of losing your respect."
"Or getting shot?" I replied dryly. It had to be said.
She approached and gave me a nice hug. "No, that's not it. Your opinion means a lot. I guess your blessing as well. Maybe you could take Robert aside and just have a chat with him. Tell him it's okay to move forward."
She must have noticed my frown.
"Unless you have other plans for Charolette," she added quickly, stepping back. "What is it, Quinn?"
"I'm just thinking out loud here," I began. "So don't bite my head off. But maybe if we get the Shaklin situation settled first, then we move forward."
Her lips twisted severely to the left as she pondered my thoughts. Yeah, that needed to be said, too.
"Are you scared of what Shaklin will think if you marry off Charolette?" she asked. "Since he has other plans for her?"
I took a big step towards her. "Not scared, just cautious. I mean, why spit in his face while he has Chloe and Avellyn and the others? I'd like to move slow here until we can get things going our way."
She nodded and looked out the front window. "I get it. And it makes sense." She spun and faced me again with a faint smile. "But maybe it would send a message to him. Show him you have no intention of giving Charolette back–"
"Which I don't." That made her smile grow.
"But I can see your point," she continued, beginning to pace in the living room. "And I think I agree with you...for now at least. Something has to be done though. We can't all live in limbo for eternity."
I understood the strong message she was sending. At that moment, she confirmed what Brutus had told me. However, I decided to let that issue wait for another discussion.
She opened her mouth to say something more – maybe even discuss our possible marriage – when a knock on the door jolted us both back to reality.
"Sheriff," Art called out as he stepped inside. "Someone reported a man coming this way from the north. Looks like he's on a real nice horse and is dressed pretty well."
That was the point when Art quit talking and stood there, nodding at Morgan and then at me.
"And?" I asked, rolling my hand so he could see I needed more than a man, a horse and nice clothes.
"Oh," he said, almost startled with himself. "He sent word ahead. He wants to talk to you. He'll probably be in your office in the next five minutes or so. Thought you'd want to come."
Okay, that was better. Still a little fuzzy, but better.
"Do you know if he's armed?" I asked, grabbing my gun and hat from the end table.
"Hell, Sheriff; everyone's armed nowadays."
We left Morgan behind, striding towards our office as she called out her goodbye. Yeah, almost everyone we met now was armed. I just hoped he wasn't in the mood for a fight. I was still a little distracted by other things.
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-SIX
"My name's Preacher," he said politely, extending his right hand to me. "Jack Preacher." He seemed harmless. He also seemed handsome, graceful and well groomed. He kind of made me jealous in a way, a man about my age looking so good in the apocalypse.
The name rang a bell. Somewhere at some time in the recent past, I'd heard it before.
"How can I help you, Mr. Preacher?" I asked, motioning for him to take a seat next to my desk.
"Just Jack," he replied with a smile. "And actually, I'm here to offer you help."
Okay, he had my attention. Maybe he was sent by God. I bet my mother had prayed for help.
"So, what is it exactly that you can help with, Jack?" I asked, opening my arms to invite his reply.
"I'm a friend of Chloe Willobea," he replied in a nice way. "An admirer, actually."
I snapped my fingers, pointing at him. "I was supposed to have you checked out. She wasn't sure you were on the up and up."
A normal man would have been offended by my reaction. A normal person might have even blushed. But not my new friend, Jack. No, he simply nodded and let his smile grow.
"Too good to be true, I suppose." How were his teeth so white? He must have had a huge stash of teeth whitener left over at the end of the old times. "I may have come on a little strong, but I find Chloe to be an exceptional woman."
"Who happens to smell like a wet dog most the time," Art joked from across the room.
That made Mr. Happy frown slightly.
"With someone like Chloe, you can look past the small, insignificant items," Preacher replied sternly. "The first time I met her, I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her and that pretty, young April."
Fighting back a smirk, I nodded. "I believe you mean Avellyn."
He didn't miss a beat and went back to smiling, maybe grinning. "Of course, Avellyn. I get that mixed up sometimes. I just think so much about Chloe that sometimes I forget the world around me."
Yeah, right. This guy was after something, but I doubted highly it was the love of the local crazy dog lady...I mean my friend Chloe.
"What's your angle, Jack?" I asked, folding my arms across my chest. "What are you really after? Twenty-five or so dogs to process for food? That seems like a small prize. Maybe Chloe's got some hidden wealth she's never told me about? Though I doubt that seriously. What's in it for you, besides the love of a good woman?"
He took on an instant air of faux hurt, even going so far as to let his lips and head droop.
"I believe I'm in love with Chloe Willobea," he replied quietly, raising his head so I could only see the tops of his eyes. "I don't want to miss out on the one true love of my life, if at all possible. She's special; she deserves a man like me and not some common road drif
ter."
"Well," I said sadly, "she isn't here right now."
"I know that," he whispered. "And that's where we can help each other."
He had my attention. "How's that, Jack?"
"I'm a man of many means," he replied, taking on again the air of superiority he'd first had when he entered the office. "Mr. Shaklin and I speak the same language, you see."
My internal radar told me there was something amiss with the whole situation. But I refused to let on openly.
"So, you know that Shaklin is holding her hostage then," I said evenly. "I wasn't aware that was common knowledge. Makes me wonder about you, Mr. Preacher."
His smile turned into a sneer; maybe I'd struck a raw nerve finally. "There aren't many like us still alive, Sheriff Reynolds. And this part of Indiana is mighty small when it comes to hiding secrets...at least for men who are willing to pay others to keep informed. I make everything my business. Every, last, thing."
CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED FIFTY-SEVEN
Morgan and Sasha took turns passing in front of me as they paced in our small living room. Morgan tapped her chin as she digested the report of my meeting with Jack Preacher. Sasha nervously chewed on a finger.
"Stop that," Morgan chastised, slapping Sasha's hand away from her mouth. "You're about to make that bleed and then it's gonna get infected. Once that happens, you'll be whining for me to put some salve on it."
"I'm nervous," Sasha cried. "I don't like this; I don't like it one bit."
"None of us do," Morgan replied, turning towards me. "What do you think he really wants?"
I opened my arms and shook my head. "I got no idea. He claims he wants to marry Chloe. Even went as far to say he'll adopt Avellyn as his own, make her his sole heir."
"Bullshit," Morgan groused. "Chloe's nice, but she ain't all that special."
