by Ellis, Tara
Jesper grunted. “That’s what I was thinking, but I was hoping you’d take a look before heading out. After hearing your story, I don’t know what would be worse, militia, road bandits, or our own government.”
Danny slid off her mare and massaged the backs of her thighs with a pained expression. “I’d like to go.”
“Suit yourself,” Jesper shrugged, already walking. “We’ll make it fast. I know you’d like to get underway before that storm hits about as much as I’d like to make it back home.”
Tom squinted up at the ominous clouds that had continued to build for over twelve hours. Just as Sam had predicted, it was like nothing they’d ever seen before. The front wall of the storm appeared to be growing thicker and taller, instead of moving forward, and the resulting wedge reminded him of a massive wave about to crest. It very well could be an accurate analogy, and Jesper was absolutely right. He really didn’t want them to be stuck riding in it, especially not on a mountain trail he wasn’t familiar with.
Danny was already following Jesper, but she paused when she realized Sam and Ethan weren’t with them. Raising her eyebrows, she looked up at Sam, who was very slowly climbing down from his horse. “You coming?”
Moaning when his feet made contact with the dirt on the side of the road, Sam stood motionless with a hand pressed into the small of his back. “You know, I think I’m going to pass and spend this time sitting my butt on the ground once I can move it again.”
Danny laughed, and Tom found himself staring at her. She really was quite attractive when she smiled. “Okay, Sam,” she said lightly. “You sit here and nurse your backside.”
“I’ll stay with him,” Ethan offered. He was still on Tango and gave a sideways glance to the three other men that had ridden out with them from the ranch. Tom realized in that moment that Ethan was being protective. Even if it was unfounded, it was still a rather mature gesture and made Tom look at his son in a different way.
Grace began licking at Sam’s face as soon as he lowered himself enough, and he lovingly pushed her back. Draping an arm around the dog’s shoulders, he waved Tom and Danny off. “Go on. I’ll last longer if I get a break now.”
Tom answered with a simple bob of his head and then he jogged to catch up to Jesper, who was already a good distance up the road. While Sam improved a little each day, he was probably right to take it easy. Based on how Danny fretted over him, Tom guessed Sam was still susceptible to a lung infection. They were so close to home, and it wasn’t worth taking any extra risks. Looking again at the tempest looming over them, he wondered if they should have taken Jesper and Anna up on their offer to stay another day.
They had all discussed it, and in the end, both Danny and Sam agreed with Tom. Since they had no idea if they’d get caught in the storm, or how long it would last if they did, it wasn’t worth the delay. Tom and Ethan had faced even more setbacks than Danny and Sam, and they were all eager to reach Mercy.
“I hope you’ll consider what I told you last night,” Tom said as he moved up alongside Jesper. “Corporal Dillinger is a dangerous man. He’s only eighty miles or so away from your ranch, and I wouldn’t be surprised if his men showed up there.”
“That land has been in my family for more than a hundred and fifty years,” Jesper said, his voice gruff and resolute.
“If Dillinger decides he wants your cattle, he isn’t going to take no for an answer,” Danny added, having joined them in time to hear the conversation.
Jesper shook his head, his face cross. “The Dukes have given their lives for the freedom of this country for three generations. Freedom I’m not about to so easily surrender for my son and grandkids.”
“If his men do come,” Tom urged. “Try to negotiate with them. They might listen to reason, but not defiance.”
Jesper scratched thoughtfully at the scruff on his jaw as they continued to walk. The morning fog hadn’t yet burned all the way off of the thick woods lining the road, making it feel as if they were walking through a misty, magical land full of dragons. When he stopped suddenly and put a hand up, Tom half-expected something surreal to come charging out of the trees.
“Is that a helicopter?” Danny asked, her eyes widening in fear.
Tom heard it then, too. The low whoop whoop of the blades cutting through the air. He looked to the sky but all he could see were clouds.
“This way,” Jesper ordered, and led them into the trees to the right side of the road. “The barricade is right around this next bend.”
Sure enough, they’d hardly trekked more than fifty feet through the dense underbrush before Tom could hear a distinct conversation between three men in the distance. They were arguing about what was the best MRE, and who was going to go fishing later that day.
Danny and Tom exchanged a look, and he knew before he even saw the uniforms that it had to be the military.
“FEMA,” Danny whispered. She crouched down and peeked out from behind a rock. Jesper gave her a questioning look. “The sign!” she insisted. “They have a FEMA sign on the barricade.”
Tom moved up next to her to get a better look, and sure enough, there was a large white sign with black lettering, just like the one at FEMA Shelter M3.
“Patterson didn’t say anything about a sign,” Jesper grumbled. “It must be new.”
Tom stood and offered Danny a hand. Pulling her easily to her feet, he then raised a finger to his mouth before carefully backing away. The last thing they needed was another all-inclusive stay with the US military.
Before they made it back to where they’d left the road, the helicopter they’d heard approaching for the past several minutes finally swooped down into view, flying low over the roadblock. Dropping to his knees, Tom watched as it continued up the road before veering sharply to the left, toward the churning clouds.
“Do you think they saw us?” Danny gasped, watching the helicopter closely as it moved away.
Jesper was up and walking so fast, that he was nearly running when his feet hit the pavement of the road. “Not us,” he huffed, looking back over his shoulder. “But I’d be willing to wager they saw our eight horses gathered just up the road.”
“You don’t need to go any further with us,” Tom said as the three of them fell into a steady gait. “The map you drew of the Miner’s Trail is detailed enough. It should be easy for me to find where it meets up with US Route 12.”
“It doesn’t get used much,” Jesper answered, not trying to talk Tom out of starting on the trail without him. “But after more than a century of running cattle on that track, the Earth pretty much gave up her fight to reclaim it.”
Tom knew exactly what the rancher meant. He’d been on enough of these types of trails that he was confident in his ability to stay on it. It stirred a poignant memory of the nights he spent under the stars with his dad, on the other end of the same trail. He was raised in the mountains surrounding Mercy, and that included countless rides. He might not have participated in an actual cattle drive, but he’d heard the stories while out on hunting trips, or when exploring and learning to live off the land.
Tom paused for a moment as they drew near the horses and fought to control his emotions. He didn’t know if it was yet another side effect of the concussion, or maybe he was simply starting to lose it, but he had a sudden, overwhelming sense of loss.
“Tom?”
He was surprised by the hand on his arm, and turned to find Danny studying him, a worried look on her face. A face full of fading bruises and cuts, some of which he had put there himself.
“Are you okay? Is it another headache?” Danny’s grip on his arm tightened and Tom resisted the urge to place his own over top of it. Instead, he pulled away and offered a forced smile.
“I will be,” Tom said, deciding to be honest. Looking at Sam and Ethan, who were busy saying goodbye to Jesper and his men, the crease between his brows deepened. Danny was still watching him and so Tom met her gaze, holding it for a moment in what was perhaps the most open exchange t
hey’d shared yet. “First, I have to get home.”
Chapter 11
PATTY
Farmer’s Market, Mercy, Montana
Patty sat her basket of apples down with a loud huff. Straightening slowly, she rubbed at a sore shoulder while taking in the latest changes at the market. The sound of hammers working on the final touches for the covered stands was a melody she found comforting. There were ten spaces, in two rows, one down either side of the road. It left a large aisle in the middle big enough for horses and the carriage to pass through.
“Good morning, Mayor!” a woman called out as she walked by, a baby on one hip and a bag of potatoes on the other.
Patty waved in response, trying to remember the girl’s name and failing. She’d always been horrible at recalling names and had tried to use it as an excuse to get out of the last election, claiming she could never pass as a politician because of it.
Although it was still early, there were at least a couple dozen people at the market. Children as well as chickens ran around under foot, and Patty was pretty sure she might have heard a pig. She would need to speak with Sandy about getting some pens set up in addition to the fruit stands. The bartering system was a huge success and seemed to be quite popular with everyone she’d spoken to. There had been some fear that it would lead to arguments in regard to what was a fair trade, but so far, the people of Mercy were able to successfully negotiate with little intervention from law enforcement.
The police. Patty sighed. It was another one of the many items on her to-do list for the day. She had a meeting with Sheriff Waters that afternoon to discuss his ongoing shortage. With the increase in guards stationed at both ends of town, it left only two officers available at any given time, even with the volunteers. While the crime rate in Mercy wasn’t a concern, just like before the flashpoint, law enforcement handled much more than straightforward criminal activity. With over six hundred residents, there were frequent domestic disputes, fights, drunken brawls, and random citizen complaints. Even a dog attack occurred the night before that left one man with a nasty bite, a dead dog, and an owner that wanted revenge.
While Patty went about adding her apples to the fruit stand, she frowned as she thought about the irony of it all. Here they were, in the middle of what was most likely the end of the world as they knew it, and she was going to spend her afternoon trying to figure out how to settle personality conflicts and neighbor disagreements. “Life must go on,” she muttered, taking a bite out of an especially sweet-looking Honeycrisp.
“You look like you could use a drink,” a familiar voice called out from close by, and Patty paused before taking a second mouthful of apple.
Turning, she confirmed that a man named Alan was leaning in the open door of his bar, The Last Stop. She frowned. He was holding what looked suspiciously like a glass of beer. He stepped aside as two men walked past him to go inside, despite the early hour.
“You’re open for business?” Patty asked, moving closer so they didn’t have to shout at each other.
“I was never really closed,” Alan confirmed, raising the glass toward her. “Figuring out how to finish my last batch of beer didn’t take much. The still was a little trickier, but I got some recruits to help with that. Took ten days to get my first brew out.”
“Moonshine?” Patty asked, not really wanting to know the answer. “I think I’ll pass.” Mentally adding the topic to her list of interesting things to discuss with the sheriff, she broke off the conversation before she said something that would upset Alan. He was a long-standing friend of Caleb’s, and she knew he was a good guy. It just bothered her that able-bodied people were working on concocting alcohol when there was so much else that needed to be done.
Smiling absently at people as she walked back through the market, Patty focused instead on their accomplishments. In spite of what Gary would have everyone believe, they’d come a very long way in only fifteen days. As she approached City Hall, the aromatic smoke rising from the central park area helped bolster that sentiment.
Entering the city center, Patty scanned the crowd and easily picked out her husband. He was hauling a stack of wood, and was already sweating through his work clothes. He’d been busy smoking the rest of the steer and his team had been at it all night. Without any way to refrigerate the beef, they had to move fast. Managing the large smoker while keeping it at a steady hundred and sixty-five degrees wasn’t easy.
“How’s it going?” Patty asked when she caught Caleb’s eye.
Dropping the wood on the ground next to the smoker, he flashed a huge smile at her. Pulling a piece of leathery meat from the front pocket of his shirt, he offered it to her. “Try some for yourself and let me know what you think.”
What was it with men offering her questionable products that morning? Hesitating only briefly, Patty accepted the small rubbery piece of jerky. After the first bite, she began nodding her head and happily ate the rest. “It’s amazing, Caleb. How much do you think we’ll end up with?”
His smile fading, Caleb crossed his arms over his chest. “Not enough to get through the winter. Even if we were to manage to keep this pace up in the coming weeks, we’re going to have to start working on other methods to store different types of food.”
Patty had already guessed what the answer would be. Without a way to stockpile perishables, they were severely restricted in what they could save. While they had several sources of fresh eggs and cows’ milk, it simply wasn’t enough for the whole town. In time, if done properly, they could increase their herds and expand the gardens. The problem was that they didn’t have time, and there was no way to call a time-out. Though it was barely the month of July, Patty was already dreading the winter. She had a feeling they’d all be a lot leaner come next spring.
Patty shivered at the thought, and then realized that it was also due to a cold breeze that had suddenly kicked up. She searched for the source of the shift and wasn’t surprised by the brewing clouds to the south of the valley. The weather was another concern. It was already unseasonably cooler, especially at night. And it wasn’t the first time that a storm had been visible on the horizon, though so far, it had either headed to the west or dissipated.
“Feels like this one might decide to come for a visit,” Caleb said, looking up at the sky with concern. “That’ll make running this smoker all the harder. I’d better go get some more wood cut and stacked where it’ll stay dry, just in case.”
Patty was going to try and steal a kiss from her husband before he could get away, but she was interrupted by the sound of a horse running into the center at full speed. Alarmed, Patty sought out the source, knowing instinctively that it wouldn’t be something good.
“Patty!” It was Melissa shouting her name, and the doctor sounded frantic.
Her stomach turning cold with fear that the deadly infection must have returned, Patty pushed past Caleb and ran to where Melissa was still sitting on her horse. Her hair was loose and wild-looking and her face was ashen.
“What’s happened?” Patty shouted, looking behind Melissa to see if anyone was with her, but she appeared to be alone.
“There’s been an accident,” Melissa barked, already turning her horse around. “I’m on my way there. It’s the wagon. It rolled on the way down the hill from the spring. It’s bad, Patty. We need some men and horses to help lift things, and…”
Though Patty felt some relief that it wasn’t cholera, the loss of the wagon would be a devastating blow. Hopefully, they’d be able to salvage it. She realized Melissa was still staring at her, looking dazed. “Melissa, what is it?” she pressed.
“I was told that there are four people injured, and two of them are already dead. Crushed under the water tank.”
Patty closed her eyes briefly and then began to move to where her horse was tethered. Caleb was already ahead of her, and calling out to some other men to follow them. They’d deal with it. The same way they’d faced and overcome every other setback along the way. It was why the peo
ple of Mercy would thrive where others floundered. Gritting her teeth, Patty walked faster, resolute in her determination.
“Patty!” Melissa shouted again.
Not understanding why her friend insisted on talking more when they clearly needed to hurry, Patty looked back with some irritation. “What?”
Melissa’s eyes were filling with tears. “I’m going to need your help more than ever, because Trevor was on the wagon.”
Chapter 12
RUSSELL
Mercy Parish, Mercy, Montana
Russell sat at the back of the church with his head bowed in supposed prayer. He’d been holding the painful position for nearly an hour while Father White went through his rituals, in preparation for the evening mass.
Russell was raised Catholic, so he’d had no problem determining which religion Father White practiced, based only on his vestments. It played perfectly into his plans. While attending his theology courses, he wrote a paper on the Episcopalian faith, which included how one could become a priest. As a result, Russell knew not only what was expected from an Episcopalian priest, but also what schools existed and where they were located, as well as the length it took to achieve the position. By claiming that particular faith, he hoped to circumvent any pointed questions that might call his bluff.
So far, there hadn’t been an inquisition. In fact, Father White was going out of his way to avoid him. Russell opened an eye and peeked to see where the grumpy old codger was at. The room appeared empty. Opening both eyes, he looked around and confirmed that he was alone. The alter was set, candles were lit, and as he stood on stiffened knees, a side door opened and a plump, middle-aged woman wandered inside.
“Oh!” she gasped, a hand going to her throat. “Is Father White here? I’m Madeline, the pianist.”
Russell beamed at Madeline and was rewarded by an instant flush to her cheeks. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Father Rogers.” He gestured to his dirty jeans and plain shirt. “You’ll have to forgive my attire. I’ve been on the road for some days and just arrived.”
