“Of course it is.” Relief swept through him, as well as chagrin. He usually liked to plan ahead, be prepared for things. In this case that would've meant discussing with Kristy and the Hendricksons plans for their new life up in the mountains, practical details like living arrangements, providing for themselves moving forward and working towards a prosperous future, things like that.
He supposed it wasn't the worst thing that the Hendricksons had a chance to recover from the physical and mental trauma of their captivity in Newpost, before pressuring them with thoughts of what came next. And it might've seemed like he was coming on too strong with Kristy if he'd started making plans for her and Skyler right off the bat, while his relationship with the young woman was still new and tentative.
Not that it wasn't still, since he hadn't even built up the courage to kiss her yet, let alone discuss their feelings or so much as mention marriage. Maybe he'd subconsciously known that there was a time and a place for discussion about their future, and it had yet to arrive.
“Good.” Kristy squeezed his hand. “I'm looking forward to seeing this winter lodge you've told me so much about.”
They fell silent as they walked on, continuing to hold hands in spite of slight clamminess from the exertion of walking and the late summer heat; they occasionally let go to self-consciously wipe them on their pants before interlocking fingers again, but in spite of that it was the most content Tom had felt in a long time.
As they walked, he fell into contemplation. He had been thinking and planning for the future, of course, even if he hadn't discussed it yet. Specifically, he'd been thinking that his previous lifestyle as a mountain man might not be best suited to a family, especially if the Hendricksons would also be with them. Not that hunting and trapping for meat and hides wouldn't be vital moving forward, but he didn't think it would be enough.
Which had led him to wonder what, exactly, they could do to sustain themselves up in a low mountain valley.
Farming was out of the question, most likely. They'd be low enough elevation they could probably manage a decent garden on the large flat beside the stream below his winter lodge, but anything more than that was optimistic. And he wasn't particularly enamored of the idea anyway, since like he'd told Logan he had the opposite of a green thumb; plants seemed to go out of their way to shrivel up and die the moment he began cultivating them, even out in the wild.
He'd considered logging with Bob; there could be decent money in that, although it would be hard work. It might even offer employment opportunities for the other men in the convoy, although Emery only needed so much wood and there was only so much to be found nearby. And, again, they'd probably want to do a bit of logging anyway, if for no other reason than to build a house for the Hendricksons, possibly one for Kristy and Skyler as well at the beginning, and store up enough firewood for a mountain winter.
But what Tom had really had in mind, tentatively at least, was something far more ambitious. Specifically, ranching.
There were a couple of good meadows in his valley, the lower meadow below his lodge and the upper meadow above it. That should be enough for grazing a small herd, especially if they moved them up to his summer retreat when the weather permitted, since the bowl valley in the high mountains was a lot bigger.
Truth be told, he'd always half intended to get more animals when he could. The thing that had always held him back was the cost; stocking up on fur and leather and other trade goods to sell down in Emery, or to take with him for trade in his travels across the Southwest, hadn't earned him much more than a few ounces of silver a year in savings. And there were always things he needed, or unexpected disasters, that ate into those savings.
Now, however, that wasn't an issue.
Kristy's late husband, Miles Graham, had spent the years before his death scavenging in the Utah Valley fallout zone. Not the wisest decision, considering it was radiation sickness that had killed him a few months ago, prompting Kristy to leave with Simon's convoy for a new life in the first place. But the man's intentions had been good, to provide a better future for his family than scraping out a living on a farm he barely knew how to manage.
And, whatever his ultimate fate, according to Kristy the man had been wildly successful. Almost unbelievably so, not that Tom doubted her.
Which meant there was a fortune cached up in Utah Valley, just waiting for him to come dig it up and use it to buy the livestock and equipment needed to start a ranch. Kristy had originally left it behind because she was afraid it was contaminated with fallout, and after watching her husband die slowly and in horrific pain, she wasn't about to risk the same for her son.
Tom could admit it was a reasonable fear. And he definitely planned to rent or borrow a Geiger counter to carefully test everything in those caches to make sure it was all safe. But he did have some reasons to be optimistic.
First of all, on his deathbed Miles had insisted he'd carefully washed everything he'd scavenged in a stream flowing into the fallout zone. And even if his decisions hadn't been the wisest, given how Kristy described the man he seemed to be the careful sort.
Secondly, the flaxen-haired woman had already used some of that scavenged wealth, if by accidental good fortune. It turned out Miles had been carrying a bag of junk silver with him when he'd returned home from scavenging the last time, already coming down with radiation sickness. When he'd finally confessed why he was sick to his wife, Kristy had thrown his things out a safe distance from the house, terrified they might be contaminated.
Skyler, not understanding the danger, had poked through the things and found the junk silver. He'd assumed it was just old dimes, quarters, and half dollars from before the Ultimatum, not very valuable. But hoping he could at least buy some candy with it, the boy had hidden it in his bundle of possessions and brought it all the way to Grand Junction on the way to Texas, where he'd tried to spend it.
That was actually the first time Tom had really spoken to Kristy, as he recalled. He'd seen a store clerk trying to cheat Skyler into giving away the valuable coins for a few pieces of candy and had called the man out on it, then led the boy back to his mother to explain to her that her son was, somehow, carrying with him a small fortune in silver and had nearly spent it on sweets.
It had been a godsend for the young mother and her friends the Hendricksons, who'd been worried about having enough to pay for supplies to reach Texas. But Kristy wasn't willing to risk paying with contaminated coins, so she'd gone to the convoy's leader, Simon, to borrow the Geiger counter he'd brought with the convoy.
Simon had thoroughly scanned the junk silver and pronounced it safe. Which, to make a short story long, led Tom to hope that the rest of what Miles had scavenged would similarly be safe.
If so, he'd be able to start a ranch and give Kristy the life she deserved. Assuming she really wanted to be with him, which he could still hardly believe. That wealth was all technically his, promised payment for leading the young woman and her son to Newpost after the bandit attack, but he didn't consider it that way; he had no plans to use it for anything but ensuring Kristy and Skyler's happiness, and providing a good inheritance to the kid.
And, should Tom be so blessed, to any children he might have with Kristy.
He glanced sidelong at the flaxen-haired woman, walking contentedly beside him with her hand still in his. Now that he knew for sure she'd be joining him up on the mountains, he figured they should probably talk about it. Assuming he could find a way to plan for their future without being presumptuous about them ultimately ending up together, the way he hoped and dreamed they would.
So he led her away from the others; Kristy had kept Miles's cache a secret, even from her friends in spite of them being as good as family to her and her son. That was mostly because they thought the man had died from radiation sickness due to the fallout zone being bigger than anyone realized, same as a few others in the area who'd sickened around that time, and she'd been too grief-stricken at the time to disabuse them of the notion.
Then it had seemed especially pointless to tell them once they all decided to leave for Texas, so she never had.
But it was a wise precaution. While he trusted the Hendricksons quite a bit, some secrets were better off kept to as few people as possible. He wasn't even sure Kristy had told Skyler, yet, since the boy had never mentioned it, and kids had a way of talking.
The young woman was looking at him curiously as they got out of earshot of the others, and he squeezed her hand, quietly thrilled when she immediately squeezed back. “So,” he said, clearing his throat slightly. “What would you think of going into ranching?”
Chapter One
Homecoming
The convoy gave a loud cheer when Emery came into sight ahead. A few people even fell to their knees, and some wiped at their eyes.
Tom wryly wondered just how often the sight of the dusty little town had provoked such a strong response. It wasn't exactly an eyesore, like some places he'd seen, especially places that had been built after the Ultimatum; it was mostly still made up of buildings that had been constructed before the shortages led to nuclear war, although modified to account for things like lack of flowing water, gas, and electricity.
For example, outhouses and chimneys were a lot more common. As were windows, even if they had to be made with waxed paper or simple screens and shutters.
Emery had been a small place to begin with and was only a bit bigger now that it was a modest trade hub with close proximity to I-70. Maybe a few hundred people in town, no more than five hundred in the area. Compared to Grand Junction it was tiny.
Although at least some people in the convoy were hoping it wouldn't mind taking in a few more.
They'd all gathered ahead of the lead cart to view the place, and now Brandon, standing at his side, cleared his throat. “What now, Trapper?” he asked.
First off, we're here so that's effectively the end of the convoy, meaning I'm not in charge anymore, Tom thought, feeling the burden of responsibility already lifting off his shoulders. Although not entirely, and not without a bit of reluctance; he'd gotten used to looking after these people, and even though they'd arrived it wasn't the end of their troubles.
He supposed most people wouldn't have too many problems setting up their own camps without him looking over their shoulders, and while he'd led the convoy as best he could he'd be glad to be done with the duty.
Still, old habits died hard. Besides, Emery's residents would probably appreciate him keeping the convoy organized until they could get the entire situation of some of them settling in town worked out.
“We'll make camp on the southern end of town,” he replied. “Sheriff Mitchells will probably be coming out to meet us any second now, and I'll talk to him about those of you that want to stay.” He saw relief on the faces of several of the people he'd led from Grand Junction, and quietly hoped they weren't expecting him to spearhead their new lives.
Best be clear about that, actually. “Then in the morning,” he continued, “I'll be wishing you all the best and heading back up into the mountains with the Grahams and Hendricksons.” Relief faded to disappointment in the crowd, and he hastily cleared his throat. “Well, no sense taking a nap at the finish line. Let's go.”
True to his prediction, Mitchells was waiting when Tom led the convoy to a spot just outside Emery that was regularly used as a campsite for travelers. The man looked the same as always, a bit weathered and wearing a beat up old cowboy hat and cracked leather duster. Which had to be a mark of insanity, given the early August heat, but Mitchells never went without his getup when he was working in an official capacity.
Tom supposed he saw it as his uniform.
“Heavens to Betsy,” the sheriff called when he got a closer look at him. “Is that what you look like under all that hair, Trapper?” He shook his head wryly. “No wonder you grow it out.”
Mitchells was technically his friend, in many ways one of the closest he'd had in the years since the Ultimatum, so Tom was willing to put up with a little ribbing. “Ever considered doing the same?” he asked, stepping forward and offering his hand.
The sheriff just chuckled as he returned the handshake. Then he straightened slightly and tipped his hat as Kristy joined them.
“I don't know, Sheriff,” she said, briefly resting a hand on Tom's shoulder. “I kind of like him well groomed. Although the stubble is growing on me.”
Mitchells was obviously doing his best not to look flabbergasted at the clear implications of the affectionate gesture. “Only teasing, ma'am,” he said. “Actually kind of surprised Trapper wanted to cover that up . . . I was expecting hideous scars or something.”
Tom snorted. “Just couldn't be bothered until it got long enough to be a hassle.” He turned to Kristy. “This is Sheriff Mitchells. Sheriff, Kristy Graham.”
“Good to meet you,” Kristy said, warmly offering her hand.
“A pleasure,” the older man replied as he took it. Then he adjusted his beat up old cowboy hat, glancing down the line of people in the convoy as they rolled into the campsite and began picking spaces to set up tents. “See you found work coming and going this time, Trapper.” He paused with a frown, glancing briefly at Kristy again and then past her to where Brandon and the Williamson siblings were gathered near the Hendricksons. “Although I could swear some of these faces look familiar.”
Tom nodded. “They would. These are people from Simon's convoy.”
The sheriff's brow cleared. “Ah, right.” He turned back to Kristy. “You folks decide to not to head to Texas after all? Must've gotten a good ways there, if it's taken this long to get back.”
“More like there was no more Texas for us to head to,” she replied, a touch of bitterness in her voice.
At Mitchells's surprised look Tom spat off to one side. “Invaders from south of the border, way south considering they spoke Portuguese, took Newpost and have been sending bandit parties out in all directions to attack convoys.” He paused significantly. “With vehicles.”
The older man stared at him incredulously. “Soldiers from South America, in vehicles that somehow work and have fuel, invading us? I'd say you were messing with me if I didn't know you don't have a sense of humor.”
Tom had a feeling that getting annoyed by that claim would only confirm it, so he just shrugged. “Anyway, if you want to round up Emery's notables, I can tell them all the story at once so I won't have to repeat myself.” He hesitated, glancing back at the men and women he'd led back here, then lowered his voice. “Also, I wonder if maybe we can talk about whether or not the town wants to take people in.”
The sheriff didn't seem pleased by that. “Refugees? We can give them aid, that's our Christian duty, but I'm not so sure about inviting them in long term.”
“They're not destitute . . . they've all got supplies to get them started and at least a bit of savings.” The man still didn't seem convinced. “Also, about half want to head back up to rejoin friends and family they left behind in Utah Valley.” No doubt they wish they hadn't gone at all, he added silently to himself.
Mitchells eyed him thoughtfully for a few seconds. “A meeting, huh?” he finally said. “Okay, can't wait to hear what the big mystery is.” He glanced around at the convoy settling in for the night. “I'm going to go say hello to everyone.”
“One other thing,” Tom said, and the sheriff paused and turned back to him. He glanced at Kristy, then lowered his voice. “Know where I can get my hands on a Geiger counter? And ideally also a hazmat suit?”
The older man blinked. “Planning on trailblazing a convoy past a fallout zone?” he asked. “Hope you're not crazy enough to be thinking of scavenging in one.” Something in Tom's expression must've served as confirmation, because he snorted in disbelief.
Kristy gave Tom a warning look, obviously worried he'd inadvertently blab their secret. He gave her his best poker face in return, and she shook her head and patted his arm. “I'm going to go help Bob and Vicky care for the animals and set up our campsite.
” She nodded to Mitchells. “Good to meet you, Sheriff.”
He tipped his hat to her. “Ma'am.” As Kristy walked away he turned back to Tom, also lowering his voice. “A Geiger counter? Come on, Trapper . . . you're a crazy old mountain man, but you're not that crazy.”
Tom thought of Kristy's description of her husband, Miles Graham, as he wasted away from radiation sickness after scavenging in a fallout zone. “No, I'm certainly not that crazy.” He hesitated, then decided to go with the truth lightly salted with a little white lie. “Traveling with a bunch of folks fleeing from finding themselves unexpectedly on the wrong side of a fallout zone's border has me a little spooked, is all. I've been hearing their horror stories for months, now, so I want to check the mountains around my winter lodge and summer retreat. Make sure they're safe.”
Mitchells snorted. “I'd say if you're not dead yet, you're probably good . . . a hazmat suit I might be able to find for a reasonable price, but the cost of renting a Geiger counter'll kill you faster than radiation, in your situation.”
“I'm not so bad off as that, actually. Although that's part of what I'll explain in this meeting of yours. But just to give an example of my improved circumstances . . .” Tom waved over at the horses pulling the wagon he shared with Kristy and the Hendricksons. “The mare there is actually mine. And I've got more on top of that.”
The sheriff whistled. “Fine looking beast. Have to be honest, I'm actually a bit surprised you were able to replace Horse this quickly. What's her name?”
He bit back a smile. “Mary. And speaking of Horse, that's the stallion with her.”
The older man threw up his hands. “You and your stupid names!” he growled, although he was grinning as he said it. “So you've got two horses, now?”
“Nah, Horse belongs to the Grahams.” Tom made an impatient gesture. “Geiger counter?”
Mountain Man (Book 2): Homecoming Page 2
