by E A Lake
"And there's no way you can win this without our help," Josh answered sincerely, yet with a twinge of bitterness. "All you got to do is grab you and yours when the fight’s over and leave. There are plenty of places that would love to have you as a sheriff. You could probably have your pick of five offers."
"Ten, I bet," one of his cousins added with a laugh. "Hell, you're one nasty hombre, or so legend has it."
"We need a base of operations," Josh continued. "We're having trouble with unruly gangs over by Indy and we want to get as far away from them as we can."
"What's your business?" Art asked. "If you don't mind telling me, that is."
Josh shrugged. "Drugs. We grow some pot, make a little meth and crack, source some too on the side. We trade it mostly for food. Got a gang of about 70 of us, women and children counted. Could use another couple hundred to really help make the operation grow. That makes Pimento look pretty good in our minds."
It was the new way of life in the new world. Open drug syndicates, people who bought and sold other people, receiving “things” by using force to take them. I wasn't a fool; I knew the landscape. But it was exactly what we were trying to keep out of Pimento. Hell, the whole area to be honest.
"I'm gonna have to pass," I replied. "Hope that isn't too disappointing to you, Josh."
He shrugged it off like it meant little to him. "Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I wanted to ask because I've discovered in the last few weeks you were in a tough way over here. I asked; I can take a no. But let me ask you a question: Are you really sure you should be passing on my offer? The way I see it, our help may be the only way you come out of this alive."
No, I wasn't sure. And yet I was.
CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED TWELVE
Josh, Aaron and William each shook my hand before they left. Josh even added a “good luck” on his way out the door. At least he didn't add anything afterwards, like “You’ll be needing it.”
"Modern day drug lords," Art scoffed as we each took a chair. "It chaps my hide how they operate out in the open nowadays. Hell, they ain't the least bit shy or embarrassed to admit what they do. At least they said they wouldn't set up anywhere near here, not with you still alive. That's a good thing."
But it was about the only good news I'd gleaned from our little meeting. It was bad enough that they'd offered their services to Tony Shaklin first and worse that he had turned them down. That told me that my enemy already had a large enough force to wipe us out within minutes.
The worst news, in my mind was the fact that word has been spread in Terre Haute, warning people to stay out of the conflict. That meant Shaklin knew exactly what I had and that there was no way I could bluff him into believing anything else.
"Do you know when Ed expects Tim back, Art?"
"I thought he said something about late tonight or tomorrow morning, Sheriff. I know that's cutting it a little close, but it's the hand we've been dealt."
That was another problem I didn't need. If Tim wasn't back before first light, with or without additional help, we'd have to leave without him. Our first stop would be Farmersburg to collect the few followers Ed had for me. Then a slow arduous ride to near Hymera to meet on Shaklin Road. After that, I assumed I had the life expectancy of a fly trapped in a freezer.
I didn't need help any longer. I needed a miracle.
I strolled back home, my eyes cast down and wondered if I'd be able to eat any lunch. Though I'd skipped breakfast, the most important meal of the day and all, I still wasn't hungry. Considering my options, I took a spot again on the front porch.
If we didn't show up the following day, my sister was as good as dead. Shaklin would hand her over to Winston Cutler and wash his hands of that marriage. Avellyn would most likely be given to the slime ball Preacher and her fate would be sealed as well. Chloe, I decided, would die of a broken heart. Knowing Carla, she'd explain to the mother, in gross detail, everything that would become of her daughter's life. It wasn't a pretty picture.
Problem was, I didn't believe our troubles would end there. Maybe not right away, maybe not even in the first week, but eventually Shaklin would flex his muscle and come to take his “property” back. I imagined he'd send someone to kill me first, making his recovery extra easy. I was dead if I went and stood up to him and just as dead if I failed to show.
"Have you considered prayer, son?" Ed's voice jolted me and I jumped a little.
"I've got problems too big for a simple prayer, Ed. I could pray solid for the next 24 hours and I wouldn't get ten percent of the way there."
He took a spot beside me and smiled. "I have faith, son."
I fought back a laugh. "I have facts, Dad. And the cold, hard facts are this: We need help and we're not getting it. Add to that the fact that Tim isn't here, so we actually don't know what we have tomorrow. Two and two are four, every single time."
My father became serious, sitting forward and clasping his hands. "What if Tim shows up with more help, decent help?"
"What if we're all dead first?" I countered. I saw that realization shock him a little. "Late help is no help."
We sat quietly for the next few minutes, each lost in our own thoughts. If Ed was thinking like I was, he was saying his goodbyes to a lot of people he'd never be seeing again.
"Can you get word to him?" I asked. "Can you get word to or from Tim in the next 12 hours?"
"Not likely," he added quietly. "I know where he is, I know what he's doing, but it would take too long to get word back and forth I'm afraid."
"You care to share where he is with me?"
Ed looked like an old man again, running his hands through his sparse grey hair. "It's a long shot, Quinn. I didn't want to try and ask for this man's help; the price is too high. He doesn't see eye to eye with me on everything. I doubt he'll come through for us, even though I've beseeched Tim to pull out all the stops in this negotiation."
"You know you're not very encouraging right now, Ed."
"I'm just being honest with you, son. I know how disappointed you are with me. And you have every right to be. But I promise to be right by your side tomorrow when the time comes. I won't shrink away from my duty as your father." He glanced at me, wiping away several tears with the back of his hand. "I hope that means something to you."
I realized in that moment as much as I wanted to blame my father, it was my mess. I'd created all of it when I chose to leave and rescue my friends. But now instead of five souls in harm's way, there were hundreds. Including my father.
And I wasn't sure it was time for him to die, even if my time had come.
CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED THIRTEEN
We ate dinner as a group, a large group. With the addition of my family, my five friends – okay, one was my wife – Ronnie's whole clan, Robert, Art, Cooley and Petri, it was standing room only in the kitchen. I even let Ed go on and on in prayer, blessing everything from the food to the curtains and asking for salvation for all of us. The only thing I wished he'd added was something to the effect of a quick and painless death.
Chicken and beef were served. Also on the table was a large kettle of beautiful mashed potatoes, with probably a pound of butter floating on top. Audra said there wasn't any need to skimp on the butter.
We had a large pot of carrots so orange I almost thought they were fake and another serving bowl of my father's favorite green beans. Six loaves of flatbread had been torn into generously sized pieces with three different kinds of jams set beside them.
We had quite a feast before us. And for the most part, people dug in and ate their fill.
The conversations were light and included plenty of laughter. Sasha and Charolette were entwined in a lively talk at the far end of the table, joking and poking at one another. I heard Sara, Morgan and my mother talking about re-painting some rooms in the house if they could find the paint. Ed and Ronnie wondered aloud if Audra hadn't cooked the beef a little too long, not that it wasn't tasty enough.
It seemed I was the only unhappy one of the
group. Even Robert and Cooley were all smiles, comparing battle wounds and stories of their near-death experiences with Petri. Art stood beside them, scoffing at the wounded pair. He'd seen worse in his life, he claimed.
If some of us had less than 24 hours to live, it seemed that we didn't care. At least that's the way any uninterested casual observer would have seen it. What we were up to didn't look like a last supper. No, it looked like a family meal, an extremely loving, caring, happy family meal.
"A penny for your thoughts," Audra asked as we did the dishes together. "Not that a penny is worth anything anymore."
The rest of our gang was hanging out in the living room, playing a game of charades. I wasn't really in the mood and volunteered to help my aunt do the massive pile of plates, silverware, glassware and pans that sat dirty on the kitchen counter. It was a well-known fact that Audra hated games of any kind, except one particular card game that she always seemed to win at, so she happily joined me at the kitchen sink.
"I'm just worried about tomorrow," I replied somberly. "That's all."
She gave me a sideways glance and a look of confusion. "Worried about dying?"
I shrugged because I wasn't sure if that was the actual problem weighing heavy on my mind. I turned to face her directly to speak quieter.
"What's going to happen to everyone else after tomorrow?" I asked. "I don't mean me and Art and Dad; what about Morgan, Charolette, Sasha...all of them? Livy told me this afternoon she wasn't going to run off if we didn't come back. She said she was staying here in Pimento and facing whatever happened next head on. I don't know if that's wise or not."
Audra shook her head slightly and tapped her pale, dry lips. "First, you'll be dead, so it really won't matter to you. According to your daddy, you'll be in a better place."
Well duh, that was obvious. But I was still worried for my friends.
"As for everyone else," she said, turning back to the steaming soapy water. "They'll get by. Life will go on, Quinny. What kind of life, who the hell knows? I would have never thought we humans would survive this long in such shitty conditions. But we have."
Rubbing my face gently, I pondered her wisdom aloud. "What if everyone ends up back in bondage with Shaklin? What if all of this was for nothing?"
Audra shook her head more and I saw her grin. "It's been a good time, Quinny. You, me, your mom and dad...we've all reconnected. You married a nice girl and I've gotten to know your friends and I have to tell you, some of them may be a little quirky but they're all pretty damned nice girls and boys. What comes ahead is unknown. The memories we will carry with us is the known, the certainty in our lives.
"The fat-ass down in Hymera can lock me up and use me as a whipping post for all I care. I'm old, I've lived long enough. He can take my possessions, take my clothes, hell, even take my body..." She chuckled at her own crude joke. "But he'll never have my mind. That pretty much goes for everyone here, Quinny. Concentrate on the positive and let the rest play out as it's going to."
"I don't want anyone to have to suffer," I replied. "I just wish there was a way to go back and do this all over from the beginning. Maybe I could figure some other way to get those five out of there..."
I let my words trail off as Audra turned and placed her warm, wet hands on either side of my face. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she kissed me gently on the lips. I was stunned to say the least. She smiled as she played with my hair.
"I wouldn't change a thing, Quinny. What you did was necessary and has brought us all together. I can die tonight in my sleep and know I've found true happiness here in Pimento with you."
She poked a finger towards the living room. "And every one of those people in there feels the exact same way as I do." Her words caught as tears filled her eyes. "Every single one of them is happy. That's what really counts. And that's all that matters."
CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED FOURTEEN
Morgan and I laid in bed, snuggled in each other's arms. We spoke in low, happy murmurs, laughing occasionally as she filled me in as to some of my mother's advice to her on marriage. Most of it was old fashioned, like my mother. As if I'd expect anything else from the woman who'd raised me.
We talked for a long time about, as surreal as it seemed, the future. Morgan hoped to get healthy enough to be able to have children. While I wasn't sure about bringing a child into the world we lived in, she was insistent. She wanted one of each, a boy and a girl. I warned her it didn't always work out that way, but that didn't change her mind or move her faith.
She wanted to find suitable men for her friends. While Sasha and Sara had been married previously, they deserved a second chance in Morgan's mind. As far as Livy was concerned, well, who wouldn't jump at the chance with a sweet thing like her. Charolette seemed destined to marry Robert, whether she was a handful for him or not.
As the hour grew late, I played with her long, soft hair, running my fingers through it. I had something to say but wasn't sure how to broach the subject. My rumination must have alerted her to my need for honest talk.
"Whatever it is, just say it," she stated plainly, in a very Morgan-like way. "No sense in holding back now."
I bit my lower lip, searching for the proper words. "Maybe tomorrow you should stay behind."
I knew she wouldn't even consider my request. And I expected her to get pissy about it. Instead, she hugged me tighter and stroked my chest.
"That'll never happen, Quinn," she replied just above a whisper. "I'm by your side through thick and thin."
"Well, the bullets could get mighty thick tomorrow," I warned. "And as a result, my blood might get a little thin."
I felt her shake her head against my chest. "You know what my answer is. So close your eyes and try to get a little sleep. You're gonna want to be well-rested when you meet Shaklin tomorrow."
I let her drift off in my arms as I listened to the wind outside. I didn't think it was going to storm, but a southwest breeze meant warmer air, perhaps ending the chilly snap that had encompassed us for the past week. At least I'd be warm when I met my maker, Ed's God. And if by chance I was headed to Hell for all of the killing I'd done in the past four years, the temperature change wouldn't be so drastic.
I awoke the following morning to darkness. Figuring it must still be early, I laid in bed, still holding Morgan in my arms. If it was going to be the last time I had a chance to do something like that, I wanted it to be something I'd cherish forever...or another 10 to 12 hours.
My mind was focused on one thing and one thing alone: our meeting with Shaklin. Nothing else mattered at that point.
Three hundred unarmed people were about to face a man who'd shown his propensity to use violence before. There was no reason to believe our next, and maybe last, meeting would be any different. He already knew we were coming sans weapons. He probably even knew we'd be holding a prayer vigil right before him. And I'm sure he had already had a good laugh about our plan.
The more I thought about it, the more I knew a gun battle with Shaklin and his group was pointless. It would probably just get me killed actually. Tony would make his getaway when things looked tense and I'd be left there to deal with the consequences. Even if I had 300 fully armed people with me, the meeting would turn into a disaster the minute the first gun was drawn.
No, I decided right then and there I would take a different approach. I was going to do something so stupid that I doubted it would work. But there was an outside chance it just might.
I would ride to Hymera and try to reason with him, appeal to his sense of decency. It was a terrible plan.
CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED FIFTEEN
My mother, aunt and wife made a huge breakfast for our group. They must have scrambled three dozen eggs and fried two pounds of bacon by the look of the piles on the table. I was sure they'd cut and toasted two full loaves of bread and smothered another pound of butter across the face of each golden bread treat. Someone had even brought over some apples that my mother had just finished cutting and placed on the table.
For some reason, I had a decent appetite. I should have been depressed, given the odds I was facing. Instead, I felt upbeat and even well-rested. It had to have been the adrenaline coursing through my system that had me so positive and ready to go.
After my father gave thanks, again too long and thorough, we ate as much as our nervous stomachs would allow. For me, that was a full plate of eggs, four strips of extra-crispy bacon (thank you Aunt Audra) and two pieces of toast smothered in raspberry jam. I'd grown fond of Liv's jam while at Shaklin farm months back, and if it was to be my last meal I wanted everything perfect.
After we finished, maybe an hour after sunrise, we began our goodbyes. Art, Petri, Morgan, Charolette, Ronnie, my father, my mother, Pastor Tom and I would be going to the meeting. All others would stay behind and hold down the fort, so to say. If Shaklin won the battle, and odds were he would, and made an approach on Pimento, the figurative fort would become a literal one.
I stood alone with Sasha, Sara and Liv on the front porch, watching the morning drizzle. Since the weather matched my mood, I wasn't all that disappointed. Each young woman had the sweetest smile that should have parted the clouds, bringing down warm, welcoming sunshine.
"No matter what," Sasha said steadily, holding my hands tightly. "No matter if you live or die, win or lose, I'm so happy of what you did for us."
"Me too," Sara added, rubbing one forearm.
"And you know I feel the same way," Liv added, rubbing the other.
"You're our hero, Quinn Reynolds," Sasha continued, fighting back tears with a broad smile. "If you die today, remember that. You gave us months of freedom after years of bondage. Even if that ends in a few days or weeks, for what you did, you'll always be our hero."
