She hated it, but Mike was right. She just sat back in her chair, glaring at him.
"He's got a point," Stacy chimed in. "Brad can handle himself out here better than most adults could."
"Shut up, Stacy," Jessica snapped. "I'm his mother."
"Am I not his dad now?" Mike asked.
Jessica suddenly realized that she had wanted Mike to be Brad's dad for years. She'd gladly let him have that role in every way except deciding when Brad was or wasn't ready for new things as he got older. And Stacy, who'd been by their side every day since his birth, had always been like a second mom. Jessica had even said before that he was lucky to have two moms who loved him so much.
As her anger gave way to guilt, she said "Okay" and got up from the table and headed out to the porch with Taylor and Brad.
Stacy started crying as soon as Jessica closed the door. Mike always felt weird when they got emotional about anything, but he'd gotten pretty decent at handling it, he thought. He walked around the table and held her in his arms for a minute.
"I wish I could be a mom," she mumbled into his shoulder.
Mike kissed her forehead and pulled her head back to look her in the eyes. "You are. And you're a damn good one. Everyone here knows that." He squeezed her again.
"I need to clean up in here," she said, trying to compose herself.
"Don't worry about that. One of us will get it." he said, hoping that meant anyone but him.
Stacy nodded her head and went to lay down on his bed. He went and told the others they needed to come back in. As Jessica walked past, trying not to look at him, he stopped her. "You crossed a line you shouldn't have," he said as he nodded towards where Stacy was laying down. Looking very sad and guilty, she apologized to Mike and went to do the same with Stacy.
The next morning everyone but Brad piled up in Stacy's Suburban and headed down the mountain. Just a few miles short of their meet up location, where the Bishop had been camping when they met, they suddenly heard a loud rumble coming from under the truck. "Ah, dammit!" Mike groaned.
"What's that noise?" Stacy wanted to know what was wrong with her vehicle.
"Flat tire," he said as he hoped out.
She quickly joined him. "I hope my spare is good."
"It is."
"So can we fix the tire?"
He shook his head. "Nope. The sidewall blew out."
They got the spare on and he walked around to check the rest of the tires. "We need to get you all new tires. These things are worn out."
"What about that stack of tires by the shop in the barn?" she asked.
"They're all for 16 inch wheels. You've got 15's. They'll fit every truck we have but this one."
They were late, but finally got down to where Bishop Christensen was waiting for them with his wife. The Bishop was elated as he walked quickly to greet Mike with a hug. Somewhat reflexively, Mike grabbed his arm, spun it behind his back, and dead-legged him as he pushed his face into the hood of the Suburban.
"Bishop, four people are allowed to touch me. You're not one of them," Mike said angrily as Taylor and Jessica pulled him back.
Stacy helped the Bishop up. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" she said.
Bishop Christensen spoke up quickly. "No, no. I had that coming. Tom, I'm sorry. I'm just excited, and wasn't thinking,"
Jessica was standing behind Mike, between him and the Bishop.
Taylor was hugging Mike, with her forehead against his, trying to calm him down.
"Oh, you're such an ass," she whispered to him with a big grin. "I wanted to hit him first," she continued in an even softer whisper. That got Mike to give a slight grin.
"He's not smiling now!" she laughed.
Jessica turned around to check on Mike. "Are you ready to behave?"
He just gave her a blank stare.
"Do I have to bribe you into not beating the man to death?" She smiled.
Taylor had already calmed him down, but he wanted to see where this was going.
"Remember your birthday?" she continued. He started to open his mouth, but she continued before he could say anything. "Maybe we can arrange a repeat if you can play nicely."
He held a straight face and nodded, then turned and walked over to the Bishop, who was struggling to put weight on his right leg.
The ladies walked over to Susan, who had froze up as her husband was attacked. She was scared to leave the two men to talk until she saw that Mike seemed more calm.
"Don't worry," Jessica reassured her. "He's going to behave himself."
"You're going to be alright," Mike told him.
"Oh, yeah. I'll be fine. I'm sorry about all that," the Bishop apologized.
Mike knew he should apologize too, but just nodded instead. "My fuse has been a bit short recently with all I've been hearing on the radio."
"Really? I would have figured you'd be happy."
"Why in the hell should I be happy about so much attention being drawn to me?"
"How much have you been listening?" the Bishop asked. "You've really made a difference. Granted, I was hoping for more of a message of resistance than restraint. But the guardsmen have been listening too and they're starting to relax on a lot of the rules. Or at least on enforcing them."
Mike didn't know anything about this. "In all honesty, I've barely followed anything. I turned the radio on briefly yesterday and heard some jackass calling me a general. I know NANN was supposedly going to do some report last night, but we got sidetracked by some stuff and missed it."
"Oh, yeah, I know that kid. He means well."
"The little dipshit's going to get us killed if he keeps it up."
"I'll talk to him later today. He knows I really do know you. I'll let him know he's gotten on your bad side with those comments. He's just young and hoping to see everything go back to normal overnight."
Mike just stood there with a scowl on his face.
"Well Thomas," he continued, "things have really gotten better over the last week. We had some guardsmen over for dinner last night. I served them steaks from cattle we got from you. Don't worry, I told them nothing about you. We just made small talk about how we hated that all this was happening. You were right on in your message. These guys don't want to be doing this anymore than we do," he paused.
"Tom, you're words really registered with people. I've seen it first hand in Cedar City, too. And my friend in Provo I told you about is saying the same thing. The fighting is subsiding nationwide. That's what you wanted, and you made it happen."
Mike was starting to feel very humbled.
"And don't worry for now about the government. According to those guardsmen, the rumors within their ranks are that you're one of them, just posing in order to keep the peace."
"Did NANN do that report I heard about?" Mike asked, breaking a brief silence.
"NANN's report last night didn't make any claims about you really. They played your recording and acknowledged you're real. They said it was probably a fake name, but that 'little was known about you at this point.' Talking about the violence calming down and things returning to normal was really the focus of it."
The Bishop was trying to make Mike feel at ease with it all, hoping he'd do another recording. "I don't think you have anything to be concerned about at all Tom. So many people are playing that recording now that they couldn't begin to try to figure out which signal is yours."
That gave Mike an idea. "Hey, Bishop, how many of these radio guys do you know?"
"Um, six. I know two in Saint George, one in Veyo, one in Enterprise, and two in Cedar City."
"Oh, so you don't know any over in Vegas or up around Salt Lake?"
"No, but I'm pretty sure that at least a few of them have contacts in the city. Why? What do you have in mind?"
"I'm wondering if I could make a recording, and instead of broadcasting it from my place, give it to you to give to them. If it came from several different places at the same time, there wouldn't be any risk of them trying to track me by
my radio signal."
"Oh, okay. That's a good idea! So you're planning a second recording then huh?"
"I haven't decided yet. But that would make me a lot more comfortable if I were to do it. Can you talk to them and see if they're up for it?"
"Come on, we need to get back to the house, now," Jessica insisted, as she walked up and pulled on Mike's arm. Taylor and Stacy had boxes in their hands they were loading up.
"He's just fine," Mike reassured her about Brad, but thinking the same thing in his mind.
"One last thing, Bishop," Mike said. "We need new wheels and tires for this old beast," patting the hood. "Here, let me write out what we need. Find out if you can get them, and what it's going to cost me in trade."
"I know we can come up with something. You know Tom, if you let me tell a friend of mine they're for you, he's not going to be willing to accept anything in trade."
"No. I pay my way. Can we meet in three days back here?"
"Absolutely."
"Good. Okay, we've got to get home. The little one has the ranch to himself right now and Jess is going to have a heart attack if we don't get moving."
The Bishop laughed, but stopped in surprise as Mike reached out to shake his hand. "Hey, you're warming up to me. That's progress."
Stacy chimed in "Don't expect any more than that. It took us years before we could touch him much."
"Oh, well, I'm not looking to be that neighborly," he joked. "A handshake is plenty enough for me."
As they headed home, the ladies were digging through the boxes, commenting on what clothes were cute or not. Jessica held up some pants saying "Oh, I hope I don't get that big!" Taylor was thumbing through some books they were given on midwifery and childbirth with complete fascination. Mike just wanted out of the truck.
Three days later, Mike and Taylor were sitting on his tailgate, waiting on Bishop Christensen to arrive. They were huddled up tightly together to stay warm as snow started to lightly fall.
"He needs to hurry up," Mike said. "I know we were a little early, but he's late."
"Mike, can we talk?" Taylor asked.
"What's on your mind?" he inquired.
"I just... um... I don't know. I used to imagine growing up, meeting a good man, getting married and having kids. All that good stuff,” she stumbled through saying.
“Um, okay,” Mike slowly said, wondering where she was taking this.
“Well, now, I just can't imagine ever leaving our mountain. Especially since the crash and everything collapsing. I guess, well, I don't know. I just wonder... Oh, there he is.”
Taylor stopped abruptly, seeing the Bishop coming around the corner, and Mike felt relieved, since he had no clue at all what to say to her.
Mike was thrilled to see the Bishop had what he needed for the Suburban. Four new Goodyear MTRs, 10-ply, with Kevlar, 33x12.5 R16 on all brand new wheels. "Perfect!" Mike exclaimed. "Why don't you back up tailgate to tailgate and we'll get them moved over." Mike tossed a CD in the Bishop's front seat. "You know what to do with that."
"Sure thing. Here, this is for you," he replied as he handed him a laptop and a folded up piece of paper. "That's some information from the radio man I trust the most. He said you'd know what to do with it. He loved your idea of spreading around a single recording for a coordinated play and thinks he can arrange it to hit most of the big cities out west at the same time."
Mike nodded. "As long as there's not a traceable link to my identity or location, it sounds good to me." He patted the hood of the Bishop's truck. "Let's get these tires moved. It's cold. What do I owe for them?"
This time the Bishop decided it was his turn to answer with silence, but Mike wasn't accepting it. "What do I owe!" he demanded.
"Tom, you're good. He wanted cigarettes, since the government banned them a few months ago. Obviously I wouldn't have any, but one of the men who picks up the animals with me is a smoker and had stocked up. He figured the tires were for you since I was being kind of evasive, so he promised him five cartons."
"I've got tons of cigarettes at the house. None of us smoke. I just bought them for bartering. I'll bring a dozen cartons with me next time."
"That's not -"
"Shut up! Look, they're for bartering. You can pay the guy back, hang on to them until there's another need, or trade them for something else useful. I don't care. We've got a few hundred cartons stored up, and no need for them."
Bishop Christensen knew better than to argue about it, so he just nodded.
"Go home and get warm," Mike told him. "Thank you for the help here."
"Anything for you, Thomas!"
He was almost dreading the conversation he knew was coming as he and Taylor started heading back home.
“Alright, so anyways,” she picked up where she left off, “I guess I just feel confused now abut my future. Does that make sense?”
“Um, yeah, I guess.”
“Well, like, I love what we have. Not only cuddling every now and then, but everything. Working together as a family on everything we do. I love farming. I love where we live. I love our weird family life.”
“Well, then what's the problem?” Mike asked, feeling like it was a stupid question before he even finished saying it.
“I know I'm going to want more. I mean, with Jess expecting, it already kind of makes me want a baby, too. And I'm not saying I want a more intimate relationship with you, or right now. I guess I just don't see how I'm going to have that for me one day.”
It was snowing hard when they returned home. Taylor tried to hurry out of the truck, but Mike grabbed her arm. "Taylor, I know this isn't easy. We've got a baby on the way already, and with everything being the way it is, let's all get through that first. You're going to be just as much of a mother to it as Stacy has been to Brad."
Taylor just looked at him with a sad but hopeful look in her watery eyes as she slightly smiled.
He continued, "You realize that I was in my thirties before I realized what it meant; what it felt like, to love someone, or to be loved by someone? You've been loved your whole life. You're part of a family that you know loves you."
Taylor gave Mike a hug. She was finally smiling as she said "Thank you. You're right. Now, let's get inside before the rest of my ass freezes off."
"So you're okay now?"
"I will be once I defrost," she quipped as she bolted from the truck to the house.
That night, as he was getting ready for bed, Jessica came in to talk to him. "I hear you're getting pretty good at handling our womanly mood swings," she said with a smile.
"Ugh!” he groaned. “It's not even been two weeks yet since y'all moved in, has it? Maybe I should have thought this through better." Mike had a big smirk across his face, just waiting to be playfully attacked.
"I heard that!" Stacy exclaimed as her and Taylor came in to back Jessica up.
"Shhh! Brad's asleep," he reminded them.
"And he's a heavy sleeper," Jessica said as she handed the other two each a pillow.
Mike looked around at them. He sighed as he let himself collapse on the bed, getting hit twice by the pillows before finishing his fall.
They all woke up the next morning on the floor by the wood stove to the sound of the Bishop's voice. "If you can hear me, it's tonight at six."
Mike groaned. "Of all the voices to be the first thing I hear in the morning, why his?"
Again he repeated "If you can hear me, it's tonight at six."
"Oh my God, will he please shut up!" Stacy said with loud groan.
"Will one of you hand me that damn radio so I can send a beep and make him go away?" Mike asked.
All three women jumped up quickly. Stacy couldn't bring over the radio quick enough. Mike showed them all which button to use to answer it.
"What's tonight at six?" Taylor asked. "Does this have to do with that CD you gave him yesterday?"
"A CD, Mike?" Jessica asked.
"It's too damn early!" Mike said. He didn't want to think abou
t that stuff when he'd not even stood up yet.
Stacy and Taylor reached down to help him up. The first thing he noticed was what looked like close to a foot of snow on the ground, and it was still coming down.
"Damn. Winter's here," he sighed.
Jessica volunteered to cook breakfast as Taylor climbed into the loft to wake up Brad. Mike slowly dragged himself to his room to start layering on the clothes to go tend to the animals. "Man I love farming," he said. "But sometimes it sure would be nice to take a day off."
Stacy went out with him for morning chores. She didn't really help, but she seldom did. She just talked while he silently did his work. They all spent the rest of the day playing a long game of Monopoly by the stove and just enjoying a lazy day. But as the sun started setting, Jessica remembered Bishop Christensen's message that morning.
"Oh yeah, what's happening at six?" she asked him. "And what's this about a CD?"
Mike tried to ignore her for a minute, but knew that he wasn't going to get away with it this time. "I made a CD the other day. Another recording. Instead of me putting it out with our radio, I gave him a CD of it. The plan was to spread it around to several people for them all to play at the same time. Supposedly it's going to air in several cities, I guess in about an hour."
"Oh, you ass! Why didn't you tell us?" replied Stacy.
"Because now he's going to have to listen to it," Taylor answered with a smirk.
The next hour went by way too quickly for Mike. He tried laying in bed, hoping to fall asleep early, before a broadcast of his voice was going to be turned on. That didn't work out for him like he wanted.
The time came, and they all huddled around the radio. All but Mike, who chose to stay in bed.
Crashed: The Death Of The Dollar Page 8
