by Tara Ellis
“Melissa, I’ve told you a dozen times to call me Russell,” he said humbly, knowing she’d be happy he used her first name. “And I’m a little hurt you thought I’d abandon you so easily. I know how busy you are and I’d never miss an excuse to spend some extra time here.”
Melissa blushed and then seemed to realize she’d failed to introduce him to the new, mysterious woman. “Oh! Fath—I mean, Russell, this is Danny Latu. She just got here a couple of days ago. Her dad is Tane Latu. Can you believe she traveled all the way from Salt Lake City, after her plane died at the airport? That’s probably even farther than you made it.”
“Salt Lake,” Russell said, fully turning his gaze on her for the first time. Reaching out to shake her hand, he noted what a firm grip Danny had. “Why, we weren’t all that far from each other at some point.”
Danny cocked her head questioningly at him. “Oh?”
“Yes, I came north from the southwestern corner of Wyoming,” Russell explained. “Most of it was spent on a bike.”
“We used Interstate 15,” Danny answered without a lot of interest. “We were lucky enough to have horses, though we started out on bikes.” She kept glancing around the room, rather than at him, and Russell found it quite irritating.
“Ah, I kept east of you, then, on Route 89. We?” Russell pressed, although he clearly didn’t have her attention. “You weren’t traveling alone.”
“No, Danny was lucky enough to run into Tom,” Melissa explained for her, when Danny didn’t answer right away. “Tom Miller,” Melissa added as if that should explain everything.
“I’m afraid I haven’t been in Mercy long enough to know very many people,” Russell said, offering Melissa a small but ineffective smile.
Danny finally focused on him again with a pained look. He suspected the journey wasn’t something she normally chose to discuss, for understandable reasons. “My friend, Sam, and I came across Tom and his son in Idaho. His mom is Sandy Miller. They own Miller Ranch.”
“Of course,” Russell said with a quick nod of his head, though he’d known who Tom Miller was as soon as Melissa offered his name. He’d spent enough time listening to Patty drone on about him. “I heard Sandy’s son had come home. I think I might have actually met him yesterday, although I never caught his last name. What a blessing.”
Danny’s eyes narrowed for a moment and Russell had to resist the temptation to squirm. How curious. He’d have to get to know her better.
“It’s been nice meeting you,” Danny said dismissively before shifting her attention back to the doctor. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow and set up a time for us to get together. I need to go have Crissy introduce me to her and Chloe’s friend.”
“Oh, yes, that would be Trevor,” Melissa laughed. “Do me a favor and make sure he doesn’t get out of the wheelchair. Today is the first day I’ve let him out of bed and I’m concerned he’s going to sneak off and undo all the work I did on his leg.”
Russell looked past the women as they spoke and watched with some apprehension as a large golden retriever loped across the room. “Who let a dog in here?” he asked with contempt.
Danny frowned at him and Russell could feel his initial attraction for her turning to disdain. “That would be me,” she said without any hint of contrition. “Her name’s Grace. I thought she might be able to help lift some spirits. Isn’t that something you approve of, Father?”
Russell understood then the level of Danny’s intelligence, as well as her keen intuition. She was someone for him to avoid, not dance around with, and he was instantly annoyed with himself for not realizing it sooner. It proved how he was already getting too comfortable with his role in Mercy and was further evidence that his time to move on was quickly approaching. “I think that’s a marvelous idea,” he said to Danny without any inflection while backing away. Unfortunately, the dog followed him. As he turned around, Grace growled deep in her throat, and he quickly retreated without looking back.
Russell headed directly for the first-grade classroom that had been converted to a supply closet. His desire to spend the morning flirting with Melissa had soured, so he’d fold some sheets, stock some Band-Aids, and then find an excuse to leave early. Perhaps he’d take a stroll through town for inspiration. He wasn’t sure yet how he was going to leave Mercy, though he had no doubt it would all be clear to him soon. The picture was already painted, he simply needed to stand back far enough to see it for what it was.
As he turned into the hallway, the sound of a man coughing drew his attention. Entering the front of the building was the councilman that Patty didn’t get along with. Russell’s unease from only moments before was instantly replaced with a confidence he was more familiar with. The vain man was easily manipulated, and he’d already considered seeking him out. They needed to talk.
“Gary, what are you doing here? I certainly hope you aren’t ill.”
Gary turned and attempted to wave off Russell’s remark. “Thank you for your concern, Father, but it’s only a head cold. I went to Mr. Sullivan’s to get some over-the-counter medicine, and he told me Patty and the sheriff took it all from the store several days ago. I have to come here and get permission from Dr. Olsen to give me some.”
Russell crossed his arms over his chest and tsked disapprovingly. “That seems rather excessively controlling, don’t you think?”
Gary wiped at his nose and shrugged. “Maybe. Though I’m sure Dr. Olsen won’t have any problem giving me a decongestant.”
“That really isn’t the point, is it?” Russell pressed, his face pinched with concern. “Oh, I suppose a councilman won’t have any issues getting the medicine, and especially not the mayor. But how about someone else? Say, an elderly woman who’s been unable to carry water or bring food in for the market. Would she be turned away?”
Gary squirmed uncomfortably and glanced down the hall, toward the clinic area in the cafeteria. “I don’t really see how that’s relevant, Father.”
Russell raised his eyebrows and looked down his nose at the man until Gary finally shifted his gaze to stare at his own feet in shame. “I feel it’s quite relevant in light of the conversation I overheard yesterday.”
This caused the reaction Russell expected, and the councilman jerked his head back up, his eyes widening slightly. “What conversation would that be?”
Russell first looked left and then right, to ensure that they were alone and to make Gary feel he was part of a privileged discussion. “I was collecting eulogies for Father White.” Russell paused and swallowed hard, like he was overcome briefly by emotion before continuing. “I inadvertently heard Bishop and that new fellow in town, Tom, talking about something concerning with Sheriff Waters.”
Gary’s eyes narrowed. “What was it?”
Russell shook his head regretfully. “I wasn’t going to say anything because gossip is the devil’s language. However, I keep seeing more evidence of the power-hungry leaders of Mercy. I’m afraid there are those who want to take advantage of the genuine people such as yourself, Gary, and turn this into a dictatorship for their own gain. Even when that is at the cost of the safety and wellbeing of everyone else.”
Gary blanched and took a firm grasp of Russell’s arm, pulling him aside even though they were still alone in the hallway. “What are you talking about?”
“Were you aware that Patty intentionally misled our own military into thinking Mercy is in quarantine?” Russell studied the other man’s reaction. Interesting.
If he had to wager, he’d bet Gary already knew. Though he certainly didn’t approve, so that was all that mattered. “She and her supporters have effectively cut your town off from any outside aid. All under the guise of a runaway military that’s taking rather than giving.”
“We’ve all heard the reports—”
“From what?” Russell challenged. “A Morse code message that her husband deciphered and reports from some scared riders on horseback? You need to remember that I was there for one of those attacks, Ga
ry. That Pony Express rider wasn’t attacked by our military. It was a teen boy and his starving friend.”
Russell took a step closer to Gary and lowered his voice so that he was almost whispering. “I gave your mayor and Sheriff Waters a firsthand account of my own, personal interaction with the military I encountered. It wasn’t far from here,” he lied. “And the only thing they did was offer me food, first aid, and shelter.”
“The council never heard anything about that,” Gary stuttered, clearly flustered by the information. Russell was taking a chance by lying. However, if he was questioned, he had told Patty about his run-in with the army near the reservoir and that could easily be twisted around in his favor. It was easy to bend the truth, so long as a thin wisp of it existed to manipulate.
Russell shook his head in despair. “Don’t you see? This is what I was afraid of! Information is power, Gary, and right now Patty has it all and is keeping the most important of it to herself.”
Gary stepped back and coughed once, covering his mouth absently, his cold forgotten. “I’ve heard rumors and tried to confront Patty about them, but she either denied or defended her actions.”
“Isn’t there a council meeting in a couple of hours?” Russell prodded, cocking his head slightly to study the other man. “Maybe it’s time you stepped up.”
Looking rather shocked, Gary stumbled back out the front door, apparently forgetting his cold medicine. Russell smiled and followed him outside, deciding to forgo any more community service for the day.
Chapter 17
PATTY
City Hall, Mercy, Montana
Patty couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a council meeting during the day, and she’d gone around and opened all of the windows so that plenty of light poured into the room. An hour later she was regretting it as she sat squinting up at Tom while he finished what she was calling a “presentation” to the council and town leaders.
Patty had several reasons for starting the meeting off with Tom’s personal account of their four-hundred-mile trek. Not only did it offer incredible insight into several facets of their societal breakdown, but it also revealed what was happening with the military. Her other motive wasn’t as obvious and even Caleb didn’t know what she was planning. A small smile tugged at Patty’s mouth and she nodded silently to herself in approval. She had slept soundly the night before for the first time in three weeks. Sitting there, watching Tom as he held the room’s occupants captivated, she knew she’d made the right decision.
“The day before we made it to the ranch was when we came across the desperados,” he said solemnly. “Near the Miner’s Trail, holed up in a small valley. I watched one of them slit Dan Erickson’s throat, except I didn’t know it was him at the time because his face had been mutilated.”
There were small gasps from around the table and Patty’s smile faded. She couldn’t bear to look down at the far end, at Mr. Sullivan. Dan was his nephew, if Patty remembered correctly.
“What are we going to do about them?” Betty asked, her voice thick. The councilwoman looked scared, and Patty felt that was a good thing. It meant Tom was getting through to them about how precarious their situation was.
“A group of us have volunteered to go out as an armed escort with the next rider,” Sheriff Waters answered. “We believe we know where they’re being attacked, so we’ll be ready for them.”
“And if they aren’t there?” Paul was the next to speak, and he kept glancing furtively beside him, at Gary. Patty suspected he already knew the answer.
“Then we’ll go to them,” Tom said, placing his hands palms-down on the table and leaning forward. “We stop them. Now, before they come to us.”
Patty carefully observed the affirming head gestures and spoken words of support for the plan, stopping when she made eye contact with Gary. He wasn’t joining in on the camaraderie and was instead staring at her with an open look of contempt.
“And by stop, you mean kill them?” Gary shouted, his words cutting through the murmurs and silencing the room.
Tom turned to the older man, his eyes narrowing. “I mean we’ll do whatever it takes to keep Mercy safe.”
“Whose decision was it to take our town to war?” Gary pushed. “I don’t remember there being a discussion about it.”
“Because there wasn’t one,” Sheriff Waters barked. “This is a security issue and since I’m in charge of security, Tom came to me, Gary. Anyone going is voluntarily doing it. You’re welcome to join us.”
That effectively shut the councilman up and Patty had to stifle a laugh, covering it by clapping her hands to redirect the groups attention. “I know Tom has given us a lot to think about and some of it might even make us question how we’ve been doing a few things, but right now we need to move on or else we’ll be here all day. We still have several items of importance to discuss.”
“I’m close to having my old motorcycle running,” Al offered, raising a hand.
“Isn’t that what you said at the last meeting?” Mr. Sullivan teased in an attempt to lighten the mood in spite of his family’s loss.
Al scoffed good-naturedly. “The last couple of parts were lost with the riders who were…well, I mean to say that the parts were stolen. I’m hoping we can manage to get them replaced in the next week or two. The old truck is proving more difficult, since I had to yank out the whole wiring harness. There’s ways to get around it all, of course,” he added, scratching at his head. “Except we’re nearly out of gas, so it doesn’t much matter if I get anything running.”
“Define ‘almost out’,” Bishop said, his concern obvious.
“After setting aside enough to run the generator at the clinic through the winter, we’re down to around fifty gallons of diesel and less than a hundred of gasoline.”
“We’ll have to start scavenging the vehicles in town and then move on to any we find on the outer roads,” Fire Chief Martinez suggested.
“Al has a valid point,” Bishop said. “We might be better off focusing our energy and resources on things that we know will still be working a year from now.”
“He’s right,” Sam added. “There won’t be anyone producing new gasoline for a long time. Possibly never, so finding parts to build more wagons might be wiser.”
When Patty saw more than one skeptical look, she stood and cleared her throat. “I know I briefly introduced Sam Ruiz, but I failed to mention he’s a chemistry teacher, as well as extremely knowledgeable in several areas. He’s already been a great help with suggestions to protect the spring water. He also has some ideas about indoor farming that I’ve asked him to share.”
“I’m a chemistry teacher, not a botanist,” Sam declared right away. “So, I’d like to start by saying that I need some volunteers to work with me on this project. Preferably people with some very green thumbs.”
There was some scattered laughter, and a couple of hands went up in the air, including Betty. “I was born and raised on a working farm,” she offered. “I don’t know much about growing plants inside, but I do know a lot about plants in general.”
“Excellent,” Sam said happily. Looking at Paul, the other volunteer, he handed two sheets of paper to be passed down to him and Betty. “Here’s a list of plants that grow well inside, according to the books I found at the school library yesterday and confirmed by Sandy Miller. We’ll need to get together and come up with a master plan on how and where to best grow them, and we need to start soon. I’m sure everyone has noticed the acid rain is already having an impact on some of the more delicate foliage.”
There were murmurs of agreement and Patty’s stomach clenched as she thought about the browning leaves she’d seen on her apple trees that morning. How much more would they have to overcome?
“Growing some herbs and fruit in a bunch of greenhouses is one thing,” Gary said, looking over the list Paul held out next to him. “But what are we going to do about the cattle? If the grasses and hay die off, so will the cows.”
Sam
glanced at Tom and then Patty, before clearing his throat. “Henry’s Hollow.”
Gary looked surprised, but Paul nodded his head. “Yes, that could work. Being indoors, so long as we keep it watered and get enough light in through the natural smokestacks, we should be able to get several harvests a year to make up for the lack in yield.”
“You want to grow hay in a cave?” Al asked, perplexed. He rubbed at the stubble on his jaw and then shook his head. “I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Indoor farming, and also what’s called vertical farming, has been around for thousands of years,” Sam explained. “It certainly isn’t new, and from what I’ve been told, this cave might be a perfect opportunity. It’s close enough to the spring that getting water in won’t be impossible and the natural holes in the ceiling can be used to redirect the sunlight, in addition to possibly some solar panels and other options I’m still exploring.”
“That old mine and cave is blocked off for a reason,” Chief Martinez said, frowning. “I’ve been in there myself, and I’m telling you it’ll be a lot of work to simply get it cleaned out. Then you’ll have to haul tons of dirt inside, and that’s after you come up with a way to safely move several crates of old, unstable dynamite.”
“Dynamite?”
Patty had forgotten Russell was there, so she was surprised by the priest’s question. Turning to him, she was curious about his reaction. He almost looked excited, rather than alarmed.
“And some of it’s crystalized,” Sheriff Waters added. “So, Chief Martinez is right. It’s probably unstable.”
“How many crates are we talking about?” Bishop asked, his face serious.
Chief Martinez shrugged. “I’ve got a detailed list somewhere at the station I can get for you. It’s been a few years, but I want to say at least seven or eight. Those are fifty-pound boxes.”
Bishop whistled. “That’s an awful lot of unstable explosives.”
