Walking in the Rain (Book 4): Dark Sky Thunder

by William Allen

  “I know you don’t think much of this idea. Of my commitment to Amy. That’s fine. These days, everybody’s got an opinion. This is not the place to discuss the matter, though. We can talk about the rest of it later.”

  Watching my mother’s eyes steadily, I saw them flare as my words hit home. She started to say something, but my father hissed one word.

  “Enough.”

  Well, that sure soured the mood, I thought. Mrs. Farrell took the opportunity to fetch her teapot from the wood stove and freshen our drinks. Sassafras tea, I thought, and sipped the cooling beverage as the silence lay heavy in the room.

  Finally, Buddy got back to business and ignored the glowering glance my mother shot in my direction. “So what else did you notice about these jack-booted government thugs, Lucas?”

  I thought about the question hard, using the topic to distract me from the turmoil brewing in my befuddled brain. The idea of my mother blocking my betrothal to Amy was unacceptable. Unthinkable. Time to think about something else.

  “Well, they certainly seemed to lack any type of basic soldiering skills. Their armor rolled right into that ambush at the Red River Depot. Those Regular Army troops suckered them straight into a trap and blew them to pieces. Used prepositioned guns and camouflage to hide the preparations. I can’t believe they made the move without scouting the area more thoroughly. Speaking as an amateur, it was an amateur mistake.”

  “So they’re not as big of a threat, then?” Lee said hopefully, but my father shook his head.

  “They are animals equipped with state-of-the-art weapons, Lee. That’s always a threat. But they have some sort of agenda. Luke, didn’t you say the bozo that got all his guys massacred at the Pine Bluff site claimed to be a regional director for the DHS?”

  I nodded, and then added that the “tame” Homeland guards didn’t even recognize the dead man as being with the Department, much less being a boss.

  “So what can we do here? To make things safer?” Mrs. Farrell asked, cutting to the chase.

  “I know everybody is concerned about more raids, and I didn’t bring up the other stuff to add to y’alls worry. Chances are we won’t see any kind of government presence out here, but I’m worried about what they might try in town. Center’s not that that big, but it is the county seat. Like I said, I’m going to go talk to the sheriff about this.”

  “And nobody is looking for you, Luke?” Lee asked, his question a simple inquiry, rather than a challenge.

  “Well, I did kill a number of their guys and steal some of their toys. I also captured one alive and turned him over to the Oklahoma Guard, too. But no, the only people who knew where we were headed are here with me. Even Sergeant Barlow just knew we were headed for East Texas. Like I told Dad, we stripped out all the GPS trackers we could find, and disabled the fancy military radio. Oh, and in case y’all didn’t notice, that big SUV shouldn’t be running unless it was specially shielded or stored underground. So that makes me kind of curious, but that’s for another day.”

  I could see the group, not just the Farrells, thinking about that information. As for my mother, well, I resolved at that point to just stop self-censoring. She would get the whole, unvarnished truth out of me from this point forward.

  “Look,” my dad began again, “Luke has seen how some communities are joining together for the common good. Teaming up to support each other against the threats out there. Now, I made sure you guys have those little handheld radios and a simple charger so we could stay in touch. Not much chance of anybody intercepting our calls since the range is so short. What I am proposing is we continue helping each other and be willing to come to the aid of any others in our group.”

  “Who are you thinking about? We don’t have a lot to spare, Sam. Yes, we have the boys, all four of them, and their wives and some cousins, but that’s not a lot when you think about all we have to do just to stay alive and feed ourselves.” Buddy wasn’t complaining, I don’t think. Just playing it straight with us. He might have four or five shooters they could spare to aid the neighbors in an emergency, but any more would risk the viability of their home place.

  “Well, we have two houses, and with Luke’s return, he’s brought us seven more adults and two small children. That’s extra hands around the ranch, as well as more bodies to patrol and stand watch. Also, I know you guys are short on ammunition, and the firearms you have are great for hunting, but not so good for defending your property.”

  “We do all right,” Buddy claimed, but I saw the look in Melba’s eyes as he spoke. She wanted to know what my dad was offering.

  “I know you do, Buddy. But I am in a position to help. I saw Clyde and Yancy had a pair of those Russian made SKS rifles. And I see Andy and Lee have bolt-action hunting rifles. All good stuff, but what I’m offering to you, my friend, is another pair of those SKS rifles and a pair of the Romanian made AK-47 knockoffs. Nothing fancy, but they all take that 7.62x39 Russian ammo. And I can throw in five thousand rounds of that. Again, nothing great, but the surplus ammunition is reliable. I’ve shot plenty of it over the years.”

  “And what do you want in return?” Buddy asked, his tone cautious.

  “Just a little help. Watch our flank, just like we will be doing for you. And maybe kick in some food for those squatters we talked to over at the old Skillman place. Not a lot, but something to help them out if you have it to spare. They seem like decent folks in a hard place, and we are in a position to help. And they will help us watch the backside of our properties.”

  I saw Melba and Lee blink simultaneously at Dad’s offer. Weapons and ammo were priceless commodities at the moment, and for the Farrells, such a simple shift in firepower might save all of their lives.

  “Sam, I want to say yes, but isn’t that going to leave you short? I don’t think we should be robbing Peter to pay Paul.”

  That Buddy managed to even make a pro forma protest was a credit to the man’s character. He clearly didn’t want Dad to weaken our own position to improve their situation.

  “No, Buddy, we have it to give.”

  “You had that much stored back?” Lee asked, his voice going low.

  “No, mostly this is stuff we picked up off of dead people trying to kill us.”

  Well, nobody could argue with that, and Buddy quickly accepted. And then we had two groups of neighbors willing to work with us. That was a good start. But we would need more if we wanted to be safe from more raiders attacking our sanctuary here. Then as we made our goodbyes and got ready to leave, I wondered if we would ever truly be safe.

  CHAPTER

  FOURTEEN

  The next day dawned bright and early but I was already up and taking care of my morning chores. Amy joined me in feeding the horses and mucking out the stalls, and we found the cool morning air invigorating rather than chilling. Fall would be upon us soon, but late August was typically still sweltering by midday.

  While we worked, I filled Amy in on all the details of the meeting from the previous day. I skipped Mom’s irritated outburst and the silent truck ride home afterwards. Once we were back and after dinner was cleaned up, I’m pretty sure Dad had a conversation with Mom in the kitchen to which I was not privy. I just heard the rattle of dishes and the occasional raised voice.

  We didn’t even discuss the shooting at Mr. Williams’s place. That was old news and Mr. Gaddis was already making himself at home over at the Big House. Dad was taking a crew over with the old man to his house today to move his blacksmithing setup over to one of the outbuildings we already used as a shop. I didn’t think they would be able to budge that anvil without using the front-end loader. Well, not my problem today.

  Once we dumped the wheelbarrow and hosed out the smelly contents, I sprang my first surprise on Amy.

  “So,” I asked casually, “you think you are up for a ride today?”

  “Really? Do you think we can?” Amy’s response told me everything I needed to know. Her beautiful blue eyes seemed to shine with the idea.

>   “Well, since Dad asked me to ride the fence line this morning, I figure it will be okay. We aren’t supposed to go off without a buddy. Will you be my buddy?”

  That got the laugh I was looking for, so we went into the tack room and pulled saddles, bridles, and the rest of our riding gear. Amy seemed to know what she was doing, so I left her to select what she wanted from the cedar-lined room. I exited the horse barn and headed out to the paddock, a small bucket of COB horse feed to attract my lovelies.

  Archer was a registered American Quarter Horse, a Palomino stallion. He was a good horse, and a good friend. Always willing to listen when I had a problem, anyway. Though still a little put out with me for my extended absence, Archer came quickly when I shook the bucket. So my last few days spent buttering him up had worked, I thought. A few of the other horses came over and followed me back to the barn door, more curious than hungry.

  Amy met me at the open door, her face still flushed with excitement. “Who are you riding?’ she asked.

  “Like I have a choice,” I replied with a chuckle. “Archer is a good horse, but he is just a little bit jealous sometimes. I’ll have to ride him or the big baby will have a stroke or something.”

  To punctuate this statement, Archer ambled closer and stuck out his head, his long-nosed face inches from mine. He huffed out a heavy breath, smelling of sweet grass and corn. Message received, I thought as I reached up and began rubbing his ears. Some horses don’t care for a person taking that liberty, but not Archer. He demanded the attention, and I was happy to provide it.

  “And what about me?” Amy asked, already surveying the small herd. These were the “home horses,” which meant they were better mannered and user friendly. They weren’t separated out here by breed because, other than Archer, no other stallions were present.

  No matter how good-natured he was, Archer would not normally be allowed to mingle with this group since this was where Dad also kept the pregnant mares and the still nursing colts and fillies. I let him out of his little enclosure and released him in the bigger paddock this morning because I knew he would be going with me and moreover I knew, correctly, that he would be on good behavior. He could sense whenever a ride was coming.

  “Who do you like? Don’t pick one of the pregnant girls, though. No riding for them until well after they foal. Dad’s rules. Take a few minutes and think about who you want to ride, but don’t go into the fenced area without me. I know you’ve been feeding them for the last few days, but that doesn’t mean they know you well enough yet.”

  “Where are you going?” Amy asked, torn between paying attention to me and eyeing the curious, friendly horses pressed up against the wooden railing. They were a mixed bag of Quarter horses, Morgans, and several crosses as well as the two Percheron mares that seemed to tower benignly over their smaller equine sisters.

  “Just want to grab my patrol gear,” I replied, breaking into a run as I turned the corner and headed for the house. Like Amy, I had my holstered pistol and slung rifle, but lacked the body armor and magazine carriers we would need away from the house. An oversight on my part, but I blamed the excitement of the moment.

  Less than five minutes later and I was racing back, now burdened with nearly forty pounds of stuff. My gut ached, like it did whenever I exerted myself, but I’d learned to ignore the dull pain. Sharp razors bad, dull knife okay. Or so Beth warned me. I still hadn’t had a chance to go into Center to visit the doctor there, but I trusted Beth Elkins’s medical advice as much as any M.D.

  “So you figure out who you want to ride?” I asked with a gasp, bending slightly as the air whistled in my lungs. I realized, not for the first time, that I was seriously out of shape.

  “Uh, I think so. You okay?” Amy’s words leaked with concern, but I gave her a rueful grin in response.

  “Yes. Just winded is all. So who is the lucky pony?”

  Amy took me at my word and turned, pointing.

  It was Daisy. A long legged bay mare with a blaze on her forehead. A four-year-old Quarter horse that Dad was eager to breed now that her training was completed. This was a good choice and seemed to indicate Amy had more than a passing skill at judging horseflesh.

  “An excellent pick, my love. Amy, meet Daisy. Daisy, this is Amy. She will be your new best friend,” I proclaimed.

  Amy nuzzled close to me, wrapping herself around my arm and whispering in my ear, “Maybe my second best friend.”

  I shivered at her proximity and gave her a delicate kiss along her jawline. Amy proved perfectly willing to share kisses with me away from the prying eyes of my family and our friends.

  “All right, sweetheart, let’s get this horses saddled and get to our patrol,” I finally announced, feeling my nerves jump in giddy anticipation. Later, I told myself.

  Amy proved to be good at her word and saddled Daisy without any need for help, talking softly to the big mare as she worked. Mainly nonsense, cooing words, but also making sure to express her admiration for the mare’s sleek lines and compliant nature.

  Archer, on the other hand, wanted to play and was frisky and nippy with me as I slung his saddle and attached his bridle. I took his high spirits in stride but gave him a smack to the head when he tried to get a bite on my arm. He was just testing me, I knew, and once I delivered a little correction, he went back to simply playing.

  “Does he do that all the time?” Amy asked, already seated on Daisy as I finished cinching the saddle and avoided Archer’s dancing legs. Laughing, I gave Archer a gentle slap to the shoulder and leaned into the stallion’s side with a grunt.

  “Nope,” I replied as I slipped into the stirrup and lifted into my seat. “He’s just happy to see me. He doesn’t like it when I’m gone for so long. I think I mentioned that before. This is his way of letting me know he’s not fully forgiven me.”

  “Are you sure he’s a boy?” Amy replied with a bubbly laugh. “Sounds like a jealous girlfriend to me.”

  “No, Archer is all boy. He’s just sensitive. That’s all.”

  “Uh-huh,” Amy replied with a noncommittal sigh. “Well, Luke, lead on.”

  We rode slowly, despite Archer’s frequent efforts to break into a gallop, and paralleled the fence line in a clockwise fashion. I pointed out where the fence was reinforced and explained softly why and where the sensors were scattered around the ground.

  “So how did you manage to get to Mr. Williams’s house so fast, Luke? I know you and your uncle took off across the field, but I didn’t see how you got through. Climb the fence? I don’t see how you did it, anyway.”

  I shook my head and said I would explain it later. Even with a clear view past the fence line, I didn’t want to reveal the gaps in our defenses out here in the open. When we got home, I would explain how the fence was left a few inches high at the point where the creek passed through on both sides of the property.

  If you lie down on the bank of the creek on the south side and wriggled on your belly, you could just clear the bottom of the reinforced metal barrier. Only in one spot, and the small gap was heavily planted with ground motion sensors. So yes, coyotes, rabbits and other small game could pass back and forth, but they always set off the trips. And the closed-circuit television cameras gave us day and night coverage as well. Billy and I slid under the metal in that particular spot and hightailed it to an ATV Dad had stashed in the woods. Dad was always big on planning ahead, and in this case, it likely saved Gaddis Williams’s life.

  We took our time riding the fence line and chatting about inconsequential things. The weather, the cattle herd, and which horses were expecting. Dad had several high-dollar quarter horses still awaiting delivery, and Amy listened while I bemoaned the lack of a veterinarian on site.

  “Well, go get you one,” Amy suggested in a perfectly reasonable tone.

  “What do you mean?” I asked, realizing I sounded a little dumb even as I said it. Okay, more than a little dumb. I knew what she meant.

  “If you know where they live, then go to their h
ouse and see if they are still alive. If they are, I imagine they are getting hungry. Offer them a place to live and food and see what they say. I’ll bet you can recruit a few more useful folks that way.”

  “Duh. Dad and I discussed doing that very thing. Back in the before, you know? But I don’t know if he’s had the chance, or the manpower, to make any inquiries since this all started.” I thought on that a little more and snapped my fingers.

  “I’ll bet Dr. Kamarsky is still hanging in there. She’s a large-animal vet and supposed to be really good. She worked the county fair last year, and I thought she really knew her stuff.”

  “Why weren’t you already using her then?” Amy asked.

  “Because she lives on the other side of Shelby County is why. Too far to get her in an emergency. We used Doc Higgins instead.”

  “And your father already checked on him?”

  “Don’t need to, unfortunately. He was a Type One diabetic. Dad heard on the radio from one of the neighbors that he passed last month. Even though he probably stocked up, his insulin supply finally ran out,” I reported sadly.

  “Well, if that other vet is still alive, then I suggest you all go see about recruiting her. She might even be able to help Doc Beth with some things. Like suturing and such.”

  I laughed again at Amy’s comment. Amy shared my opinion that, while Miss Beth wasn’t a doctor, she was probably as skilled at most doctoring things as any med school graduate. She’d spent time examining all of our wounds, and she was happy to report that Amy’s scar on her forehead was likely to fade, mostly, over time. Summer and I, on the other hand, would bear our marks for all time.

  As for me, I didn’t care about scars. I thought the burn on my arm was probably going to leave a streak there, and the incision in my abdomen wasn’t going anywhere. Summer, too, seemed at ease with the idea, but then all she had to show would be a pair of dimples, one on each side of her upper calf. That is, if she continued to heal without infection.