Keepers

by Brenda Cooper

  Lou decided they’d probably picked this girl up Outside instead of escaping the city with her; her language was too coarse. Maybe she was even an escaped Returner herself. Not that it mattered. Lou looked at the girl and smiled. Just as she was about to ask a follow-up question, a shrill woman two tables over gestured for her and she noticed Salvador watching her, so she swallowed her irritation, pasted on a fresh smile, and went.

  The bikers left before she got a chance to ask them anything more, but she pondered what she’d heard all night. Coeur d’Alene was an outlaw city, a place no one had bothered to dismantle yet, but which didn’t have any taxing authority or legal standing. It was as likely a place as any to look for Coryn’s Returners. It wasn’t a lot of information, but it was more than she’d had. Shuska had suggested they go east and north anyway.

  The bar was busy enough that she stayed until they closed, until the cooks and the busboy had gone home. Salvador took her pad from her, looking as tired as she felt. “I would have had trouble getting through the night without you.”

  She managed a tired smile. “That was fun.”

  “I have someone coming for an interview tomorrow,” he said. “Are you sure you don’t want the job?”

  Her feet hurt so much that she barely regretted telling him no. “I’m sure I can’t stay that long. Maybe a week more, maybe less.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t want to walk back until she gave her feet a rest. “Do you have time to share a cider with me?”

  He hesitated. “After the floor is done.”

  She helped him with the mopping, and then they sat together in air that smelled faintly of bleach. “This is a new cider,” he told her. “My cousin makes it. He brought a keg over today.”

  She took a sip, savoring the dance of flavors on her tongue. Tart and crisp. “We should have served this today. It’s good.”

  “I wanted to finish up the old first. Will you be back through here?”

  She shrugged. “This is the first time I’ve stayed in Yakima for long. Our friend is hurt, and we’ve been working on making enough money to buy a horse for her to ride on. We’re Wilders, looking for work up north.”

  “There’s work near here.”

  She chanced a direct question. “We’re heading north. Looking for work with any of the foundations up there. We also want to help find the people who almost brought the cities down a week or so ago. I have family in Seacouver and I want to keep them safe.”

  The look he gave her suggested he thought she might be a little small to take on any force that attacked cities. At least he didn’t say so out loud.

  She persisted. “So have you heard anything about who might have been behind the attack?”

  Salvador sat back and sipped his cider. “A bartender hears a lot they don’t talk about.”

  “Do they hear anything they share?”

  “Just that the bears causing trouble have gone back to hibernate. But there are rumors of trouble next spring.”

  “Bears?”

  “In human clothing. The best way to survive in my business is to listen to every story and tell none of them.”

  “Even to friends?”

  He glanced at her, his eyes level and suddenly a little cold. “I think you should not come back tomorrow. Hopefully I will have new help.”

  She sat back, chilled. He had never been rude. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. I meant no harm. But I know I am taking my family into danger, and it’s important to me to understand that danger so I can protect them.”

  “Go south.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  He looked down at his drink. He stared it for quite a while before he looked directly at her. “I heard a story a week ago. Two days after the attacks. It’s only a story an old bartender heard from no one, and it might not be a truth at all.”

  Since he was staring at the table instead of at her, she said, “I like to hear stories, and I know that’s all they are.”

  He took a sip. A beat. Two. “A man and his wife came into the bar together. The man said he wanted a quiet table in the back near the door, and there is one.” Salvador pointed at it. “And so I let him have it. When he got up to use the restroom, I took an order for a second glass of wine from the wife, who was a small thing with a black eye. I didn’t like the black eye, and I didn’t know if he gave it to her or if someone else did, and whether or not I should worry about trouble in my bar. So I asked her if I could help.

  “She shook her head, but I think that was because she saw him coming up behind me, on his way back from the washroom. Twenty minutes later she came back to me and she told me her husband made them leave her brother. She said her brother might kill them both, since they lived in a secret place. I merely raised an eyebrow, being nothing but a bartender. She didn’t say anything else then, but when I took them their food I overhead the word Chelan. He hushed her for saying it, but she was watching my eyes, like she wanted me to hear, and she wanted to know I had heard. Hard to explain that, but you pick up these little things in bars.”

  “I used to listen around campfires at night, wait to hear what people said and what they didn’t say.”

  He glanced at her. “What kind of campfires?” he asked.

  “Ranch. I worked RiversEnd Ranch.” No need to tell him she’d been a crew boss.

  “Wilding?”

  “Yes.”

  He poured her another half glass of cider. “That’s dangerous work. We appreciate it.”

  “Thanks. Is there anything more to the story? Did you see them again?”

  He grimaced. “They disappeared without paying that night. The next night the brother came in. He was a Returner for sure, a right angry man who wore three guns in plain sight. He was sure they’d been here, even though I had no record of it, nor any memory of it. That would have been the end of the story, except that I heard him talking to a friend that was with him. They used the word Chelan, too. It’s a place, you know. And a lake.”

  “I know.”

  He finished his cider and held his hand out for her glass. “Then may good luck follow you.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Lou walked in front, taking them up an overgrown path that paralleled the 97 without being visible from the road. Ecobots still maintained the 97, and once in a while they heard a vehicle rattle over a pothole. The sun shone from almost straight ahead, keeping their shadows short and drawing sweat onto Lou’s brow.

  The only horse they’d been able to afford was an older draft horse named Buster, so Matchiko rode well above them, acting as their best lookout. Shuska trailed. She always trailed, always shielded their backs.

  They were far less likely to draw attention here on the trail than on the highway.

  It bothered Lou to be on the move without data. When she was the ranch foreman at RiversEnd, they’d had adequate data. Their logins had still worked for the first few days they were in Yakima, but the foundation that provided them had apparently been wound down far enough that systems had been turned off.

  They were on their own with no current information, no way to look for work, and no contact with Coryn.

  Two coyotes trotted across the trail in front of them. Lou held her breath, but Buster didn’t react at all.

  Matchiko commented, “I guess he knows it would take more than two little canids to take him down.”

  “There could be more,” Shuska muttered, barely loud enough for Lou to hear.

  She ignored the comment. Coyotes wouldn’t bother a group this big. Wolves wouldn’t either, at least not now, in the flush of late summer, when rabbit and deer were plentiful.

  She was going to have to get new boots soon. She could feel even small rocks under her right forward sole.

  “Trouble!” Matchiko exclaimed, clutching the saddle horn hard.

  Lou unclipped the lead so Matchiko could steer the big horse if necessary, looking around. Nothing. “Two men,” Matchiko insisted, staring ahead. “Maybe more.” />
  Lou tried to follow her line of sight, but the hill in front of them blocked her vision. “How far?”

  “We’re coming up on them.”

  Lou stopped to evaluate the terrain. There was an uphill scramble to their left, a small downhill slide to their right, and if they could negotiate that they’d be in a dry riverbed. Shuska spoke in a hurried whisper. “There’s someone behind me.”

  Without giving any signal at all, Lou abruptly turned and started down. Matchiko and the big horse followed. Shuska stood her ground on the trail, just across it and slightly uphill, where she’d have some visual advantage. She looked imposing. She held up her hand with three fingers showing and shook her fist in a gesture that indicated uncertainty. There could be more.

  Lou glanced up at Matchiko. She was probably the target. Not Matchiko herself, but the horse. They hadn’t decided if Buster was fast or not, but she would be willing to bet he wasn’t. She whispered, “Hold on. We’ll follow you when we’re done.”

  Matchiko nodded grimly and adjusted her seat into the loose body posture that would keep her on the horse even if he lunged away quickly. At least, probably. She only had one foot in a stirrup. The injured one dangled free in a cut-away boot they were using as a makeshift splint.

  Lou picked up a stick and slapped Buster’s wide, golden butt.

  He stopped, lifted his leg a little, prepared to kick her if she did it again. He swished his tail at her as if she were a fly.

  She swatted him again, stepping out the way of a half-hearted warning kick.

  Again. The stick broke but he didn’t move.

  Matchiko made kissing sounds at him. He trotted off reluctantly, somewhat under Matchiko’s control.

  Lou drew her stunner from the inner pocket of her light coat and turned back to see Shuska had decided to simply sit and watch until there was something more interesting to do. She looked like she was laughing.

  Clearly, she had assessed the situation and decided it was going to be okay. This was a good thing; Buster was at most two hundred feet away and slowing.

  Lou watched Shuska for clues. She heard Buster breaking small sticks behind her as he walked, Matchiko encouraging him in an exasperated whisper.

  Maybe they should have practiced moving him faster than a walk.

  Two young men came at Shuska from her right, jogging, and looking in the direction Buster had gone. They moved like people familiar with work and travel, their gaits economical. One had a gun; the other didn’t seem to have anything. No pack, no gun, nothing but a simple leather coat. Neither of them noticed her; all eyes were on the horse.

  Shuska let them get almost right below her before she simply stood up and bellowed, “Stop,” in a loud, demanding voice.

  Surprised, they stopped and stared at the huge woman who had appeared out of nowhere just above them. With enough time to look, it was easy to tell they were a year or two short of eighteen. One was taller than the other, both ruddy and white-skinned with short haircuts.

  They stared up at Shuska, faces set with a fierceness that looked like a slight wind could crumple it.

  Lou moved to Shuska’s left, below her, watching for the person she’d heard behind them. As soon as she turned, a young woman with unruly black hair badly in need of a brush crashed down the slope toward her. Lou moved in on her easily, catching her by the arm, turning her, and shoving her stunner in the girl’s back. She spoke softly: “If you’re still, I won’t hurt you.”

  The girl only struggled once before realizing Lou had her tight. Perhaps she had been taught that the best thing to do when in trouble was to scream since she did so, immediately and rather loudly. Lou poked her in the shoulder. “Hush.”

  The girl clamped her mouth shut and glared at Lou.

  All five of them held still for a long moment. Lou spoke mildly. “And your plan was?”

  “We need a horse,” the girl said.

  “For?”

  “We’ve got to move fast,” the older of the boys said. “We really do.” His face had gone white under hair almost the exact color as the girl’s. Their noses were both on the long side, and they had the same color of brown eyes.

  Probably a sister and brother. “Who are you running from?” Lou asked the girl.

  “My father. This is my husband, Rick.” She pointed to the younger boy, who might have been all of sixteen. He was also the one with the gun. “And my brother, Scott.”

  Such old-fashioned names.

  “Your father doesn’t approve of your marriage?” Shuska guessed.

  “It’s more complicated than that,” the girl said.

  “Well.” Shuska drawled her words out slowly. “You can’t have our horse. We happen to need him. If we didn’t, we might give him to you. But he’s more likely to slow you down than help you move fast.” She paused and grinned, clearly having a little fun. “We are looking for information. If you’ll tell us your tale, we’ll trade for a meal.” She held her hand out. “But I get the weapon. I’ll give it back when you’re done.”

  Rick didn’t move. His hand shook and he looked uncertain and very, very young. “Maybe we won’t eat with you.”

  Lou laughed softly. “Whether she’s your wife or not, she’s hungry.”

  He glanced toward the still-unnamed girl, who said, “They could have shot us.”

  “Good girl,” Lou whispered. “That’s a show of common sense.”

  He handed the gun over.

  Lou and Shuska kept their own weapons out, but pointed at the ground. Lou led while Shuska, of course, trailed. As soon as she found a decent clearing, Lou left Shuska to regale them with her native silences and took off after Buster.

  He hadn’t gotten a quarter mile. Matchiko was usually good with horses, but they’d only had Buster two days and he hadn’t shown any inclination to do what anyone said, except for Lou when she had a lead line on him. He stood with his head buried in the grass by the side of the path, completely ignoring Matchiko’s weak tugs at his reins. Lou bit back a laugh. “You’d have better luck without a broken ankle, you know. You could stand in the stirrups.”

  Matchiko glared at her and then back at the horse’s stubbornly bent neck. “What was that about, anyway?”

  “We found some young people to tell us stories. But we need the contents of your saddlebags first. They’re apparently in danger of imminent starvation.”

  “Do-gooder.” Matchiko gave up on getting Buster to obey, letting the reins loose. Lou clipped the lead back into Buster and hauled his nose up. He gave her a resentful look and tossed his huge head once before he allowed her to lead him. “Maybe you need a sharper bit,” she told him. “Or a week with Shuska riding you.”

  “That would do it,” Matchiko said.

  In five minutes they were back at the clearing, where the three teenagers had settled in on rocks and roots. They looked a little sideways at Buster. The girl said, “I didn’t know he was so big.”

  Matchiko was already digging in their packs. They still had bread, cheese, and jam, as well as apples, and so they were able to make a decent lunch, which disappeared so quickly Matchiko relented and gave the boys each a second half-sandwich. After they fished, Lou said, “So . . . what are you running from and where are you going?”

  The brother, Scott, talked first. “We’re going south. To LA. I have a friend there and I think I can get work.”

  “Will the city let you in?” Matchiko asked, still perched on top of Buster.

  The boy shrugged, not looking at her. “He says so.”

  Lou was willing to let the unlikelihood of Scott’s assertion go. “What are you running from?”

  “Who says we’re running?” Rick asked.

  “Your willingness to take on three armed adults and steal a horse was my first clue.”

  The girl blushed and looked away.

  Lou had to work around rising anger in order to keep her tone soft. “You said it was because you’re in a hurry. And something about her dad.”

 
; “Oh. Yeah.” The boy straightened a little on the rock he’d chosen for a seat. “He’d promised her to one of his friends, but we found a preacher to marry us. Her dad doesn’t think the preacher is legit, so he decided we’re not married and he’s going to make her marry his friend.”

  “That’s the oldest story ever.” Anger knotted her shoulders; she tried to force them to relax, failed. This time she didn’t even manage to soften her voice. “It amazes me how much social devolution seems to go with small populations.”

  “Fancy words,” Shuska said, smiling, her steadiness letting Lou release some of her tension.

  The boy looked confused so she told him, “Never mind. It’s not fair. That’s all she means.”

  “What’s the friend like?” Matchiko asked.

  The girl shivered. “He’s old. He wants me to have a bunch of kids. They want me to be a teacher, but I just want to get away. The world can’t be as bad as they say it is.”

  Even Shuska’s face softened a little. She almost smiled. “No. It’s not. But it is dangerous. What if we’d just shot you?”

  The girl paled, and her young lover put his arm around her. “You wouldn’t have done that.”

  “No.” Lou lifted her stunner from her lap. “We wouldn’t have. But someone else might.”

  The girl flinched.

  Good. “How long ago did you run away?” Lou asked.

  “Yesterday,” the girl replied, almost in a whisper.

  So the father could be close. “You had better keep moving. But you’d also better be more careful. We could have been far more dangerous than we look, and in fact we are, to some people.”

  The girl glanced up furtively. “I bet you’d be dangerous to my dad.”

  “I bet I don’t want to ever meet your dad. But maybe you should tell me about him.”

  “He’s big. He’s hates the way the world is. He keeps a whole collection of books and pictures about the way it used to be. It’s the only physical thing we keep every time we move.”

  “Do you move a lot?” Matchiko asked from up high.

  The girl toed a rock with her right foot. “We used to move every few weeks, but lately we’ve been in one place.”