by Chris Pike
The garden that had been tended to by the previous caretaker still had some vegetables that the deer and rabbits hadn’t eaten the tops off. Beets, carrots, cauliflower, and Brussel sprouts were root vegetables everyone would need. Potatoes and yams would have to wait to be planted until after the last spring frost.
“We’ll need to repair the fence around the garden,” Dillon said, walking the fence line, taking note of the holes. He pushed on a post testing the sturdiness of it. “Hey, Chandler?”
“Yeah?”
“I think a few of these posts need to be replaced, otherwise the deer will be having a smorgasbord. They’ll be able to push this over in no time at all.”
Working the rest of the afternoon, the steady sound of hammering could be heard as Dillon and Chandler repaired the holes in the fence and replaced posts. After that chore was finished, they added extra chicken wire at the bottom of the fence to keep out rabbits and other nocturnal animals.
Dillon was thankful for the laborious work because it didn’t allow him time to think about his daughter. However, during a break in the work, Dillon mind went to his daughter and he second guessed his actions. Had there been anything he could have done differently? Maybe he should have stayed in Louisiana where he could have searched for Cassie, even if it was her remains he ultimately found.
As he and Chandler rested under the shade of a large pine, Dillon wondered if there could be any chance, even a minute one, that Cassie could be alive. He’d probably never know exactly what happened, and the decision to leave Buster behind tortured him. Holly had been right because the storm was too intense to ride it out in the open. One lightning strike could have had disastrous consequences.
Tomorrow, he’d set out at first light to find his beloved dog.
For the next hour, Dillon and Chandler pulled weeds, tilled the soil, and checked the garden for any vegetable plants that had survived the heat, resulting in late season produce.
“Hey!” Chandler exclaimed. “I found some squash and a few tomatoes.”
“Great!” Dillon replied. “Gather them and let’s head to the house.”
* * *
While Dillon and Chandler worked outside, Holly and Amanda took inventory of the remaining food supplies in the pantry.
Holly started a list of non-perishable items like flour and pasta, sugar and salt, spices, boxed food, canned vegetables and fruit, and other sundry items such as soup and spaghetti sauce. It was a mundane, yet important task. She catalogued each item along with the quantity, then stacked each item in an orderly fashion in the pantry.
She also catalogued the remaining laundry detergent and bleach, thinking of how they could wash clothes. With any luck, there’d be a tub in the barn she could use. The bleach would be an important commodity because when toilet paper ran out, strips of sheets could be used for sanitation purposes then soaked in bleach, rinsed, and hung out to dry.
Because food would have to be rationed, Holly surmised everyone would be tightening their belt buckles soon. A life like her ancestors had from the 1800s, farmers who were lean and weathered from a life where brawn was needed. Not necessarily a bad life, only a different one.
Fortunately, Hector had kept the pantry stocked, and if an item was close to the expiration date, he had permission to use it. Although when push came to shove during hard times, an expiration date wouldn’t matter. Hunger would drive a person to eat most anything.
Holly also took note of the items her mother had used in canning fruits and vegetables, such as jars, rims, and lids. For the life of her, Holly had never been interested in how the work was done. She sorely regretted not paying any attention to the methodology. Surely, hopefully, there’d be a pamphlet or cookbook somewhere in the house explaining the procedure.
Holly briefly thought about Hector and his untimely and unnecessary death at the hands of Cole Cassel. When Holly and Dillon had first returned to her house, the flock of buzzards in the nearby pasture had alerted them to the likelihood that Hector’s body was probably there. There had been no time to search for a body, and Holly made a mental note to ask Dillon to search for his remains.
Amanda was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping on a warm Coke. “Holly, how long do you think this EMP thing will last?”
“Probably a long time,” Holly said. “For now, we need to get through it and survive. Amanda, what do you plan to do?”
“I guess stay here a little while. Like my grandpa told you, he has a younger sister, actually about my dad’s age. She has a ranch in Central Texas. Chandler said he’d take me there.”
“You know you’re welcome to stay here as long as you want to.”
“I know, but family’s different.”
“I understand,” Holly said. “It’s getting late. Let’s find something to cook for dinner tonight. I’ll get a fire going outside.”
“Okay, I’ll help you and…” Amanda turned toward the front of the house. “What was that?”
“I think someone is knocking at the door,” Holly said.
The sound came again.
“Someone is at the door,” Holly said. “You stay here. I’ll see who it is.”
Chapter 30
Earlier that day, Dorothy Cooper and her daughter Anna paid a visit to their next door neighbors, Helen and Ed Reynolds. Their relationship had never been a good one because of several issues, including the discord Dorothy’s chickens had caused.
Dorothy believed in a low maintenance yard, which meant letting the grass do what it wanted, and simply mow it a couple of times in the summer, while Ed’s yard could have been in a home and garden magazine, so she was pleasantly surprised at his congenial attitude toward her when she paid him a visit. Ed had a box of tools and was repairing the front door.
“Ed,” Dorothy said, “can you tell me where you got this dog?” She motioned to Buster who was leashed, sitting obediently next to Anna.
“The dog belongs to a friend of Ryan Manning. He’s the son of our good friends, the Mannings.”
“They used to live around here, right?”
“Yes. It’s been over twenty years since they left.”
“Why is the dog here?”
“What does it matter to you? Do you want the dog? If so, you can have him.”
“No, I’m trying to figure out how the dog showed up at your house.”
“Oh,” Ed said. “Ryan Manning showed up here last night needing help. He was trying to get some girl back to Houston, and they needed rest and food. And because we promised his parents we would always be here for him, we let them stay the night.”
Dorothy looked at Buster then at Ed. “Why did Ryan have the dog?”
“The dog belonged to his friend, Cassie Stockdale”
“Dillon Stockdale’s daughter. Where are they now?”
“I don’t really know how to tell you this,” Ed said. He closed the front door, stepped out onto the porch, and glanced both ways. “Cole Cassel and a couple of his henchmen kicked in the front door last night, roughed up Cassie and tied up Ryan,” he said in a low voice. “There was nothing we could do. You have to believe me.”
“I believe you.”
“They took them away. I’m guessing to the old sheriff’s office on the town square.”
“Why?”
“I have no idea,” Ed said. “We don’t want to get involved. I’m sorry. Why’s this important to you?”
“Because this dog belongs to Dillon Stockdale.”
“How do you know that?”
“His collar.”
“Oh,” Ed said. “How do you know Dillon Stockdale?”
“A couple of weeks ago he helped Anna get my antibiotics at the drugstore. He saved my life.” Dorothy paused. “If Cole knows that Cassie is Dillon’s daughter, he’ll kill her.”
“I’m not so sure he knows who she really is because when Cole pressed her for her last name she said Stallman.”
“Then she must know who Cole is.”
“I guess so,”
Ed said.
“I need to let Dillon know that Cole has his daughter.”
“How are you going to do that? You don’t even know where he is.”
“Actually, I do know. Ed, can I borrow your bikes?”
Chapter 31
Holly cautiously went to the front door and peeked through the sheer curtain so she could get a cursory look at who had knocked. Through the opaque curtain she saw the hazy image of a woman standing back from the door, along with a child and a large dog.
The woman had big, soulful eyes. Her hair was sprinkled with gray, her skin prematurely wrinkled from the sun and the worries from living a difficult life, yet Holly believed she recognized the woman.
Holly put a hand to her face, questioning if her eyes were tricking her.
“Who is it?” Amanda asked, coming up to Holly.
“I’m not sure. I think it’s…”
Holly opened the door and Buster bounded in, his excitement unbridled recognizing the house and the scent of his owner. Buster bolted through the living area, skirted around the water well in the breezeway, and ran to the back door. He jumped up and put his paws on the window, scanning the backyard, the garden, and pasture land beyond. When Buster saw Dillon in the garden, he whined and scratched at the window to be let out.
Standing on the front porch were Dorothy Cooper and her daughter Anna.
When Holly got over the shock of seeing a classmate from thirty years ago, her eyes went to the wisp of a child standing next to her. “You must be Anna.”
The child nodded.
“Dillon told me how brave you were, helping your mother get her medicine.”
Putting her arm around Anna, Dorothy smiled at her daughter. “She’s a great kid.”
Holly was in awe of the bonding moment between mother and child, and for a brief instant she realized the tender moments she had missed out on.
“It’s good to see you, Holly,” Dorothy said.
“Please come in.” Holly motioned for them to enter the house. “Amanda, please go get Dillon, and pour a bowl of water for Buster.”
Dorothy and Anna shyly entered the house. It had been a long time since Dorothy had set foot into a house this grand. She was unsure what to do.
“Have a seat, please,” Holly said. “Can I get you anything? Water, something to eat?”
“Water would be fine. Thank you,” Dorothy said. While Holly was in the kitchen, Dorothy brushed off her pants before she sat down stiffly on the sofa. Unsure what to do with her hands, she folded them in her lap. Anna’s gaze landed on the bookshelves and she squinted trying to read the titles.
Holly returned with two glasses of water. She handed them to Dorothy and Anna. “You can borrow a book if you want to.”
Before the child could speak, Dorothy cut in and said, “We don’t want to impose on you.”
“It’s no imposition at all. I’d be honored to lend a book to Anna,” Holly said.
Anna waited for her mother’s confirmation.
“Only one.”
With great merriment, Anna skipped to the bookshelves and perused the titles. Buster came trotting into the room, went to Holly, and put his chin on her leg.
“Dorothy,” Holly said, absentmindedly petting Buster, “I have so many questions for you. First of all, thank you for bringing Buster to us. Dillon will be so relieved that you found him. Where was he? How did you find him? It had to have been difficult to get here.”
Dorothy cleared her throat. “I need to speak to Dillon.”
“Of course,” Holly said. “I’ll see what’s taking him so long. I’ll be back in a—”
The front door swung open and Dillon and Chandler came in, followed by Amanda. Buster loped over to Dillon, wiggling and curling around his legs. Dillon dropped to the floor and rubbed his dog vigorously along his head and back.
“Where did you find him?” Dillon asked, letting Buster lick him all over his face.
“Dillon,” Dorothy said, “I know where Cassie is.”
Chapter 32
“What? What did you say?” Dillon rose from his kneeling position and looked pointedly at Dorothy.
“I came to tell you that your daughter is in town.”
“My daughter?”
“Yes.”
“She’s alive?” Dillon’s words were breathless. “Are you sure? I can’t believe this. It’s the best news I’ve ever had. I thought she was dead.”
“Dead?” Dorothy echoed.
Dillon put hand to his forehead. “It’s a long story. I knew she wasn’t dead, even after everybody telling me she was. Where is she, why didn’t you bring her here?”
“Dillon,” Dorothy said, swallowing hard, “I don’t know how to tell you this…”
“Tell me what?”
For the next several minutes Dorothy explained that Cassie and her friend Ryan, who she said was another plane crash survivor, had made their way to Hemphill. They had spent the night at her next door neighbor’s house, resting and stocking up on supplies before Ryan planned to escort Cassie to Houston.
“I don’t understand,” Dillon said, “what were they doing at your next door neighbors’?”
“For some reason, the Reynolds owed Ryan’s parents a favor, and he showed up there for help. That’s all I know.”
“Why were they going back to Houston?”
“Because Ryan told Cassie he would help her get home.”
“She doesn’t know about me being at Holly’s ranch, does she?”
“I don’t think so,” Dorothy said.
“Of course. It makes perfect sense. She thinks I’m in Houston waiting for her.”
“From what Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds told me, Cassie had no idea you were here.”
“Why didn’t you tell her?” Dillon asked.
“I didn’t know they were next door until...”
Dillon sat down next to Dorothy. “What?”
“I’m sorry, let me finish the rest of the story. I’m not sure how to tell you this.”
“What are you talking about?” Dillon asked.
“Remember how scared I was when you brought Anna home?”
Dillon nodded.
“And how I said you needed to leave because Cole has spies all around? I was right about that. Someone told Cole that you were at my house and the next day he paid me a visit. He wasn’t any too nice about it. I’m sorry, Dillon, I had to tell him that you and Holly were going to Louisiana to try to find your daughter.”
“So he does know I’m here. Damn. Tell me what else you know.”
“I only put two and two together after I gave the Reynolds dog food and when Anna checked Buster’s tags. I asked the Reynolds what they were doing with your dog and that’s when they told me about Cassie and Ryan being there.”
“Well, let’s go get her,” Dillon said. “Wait a minute. If Cassie was next door then why didn’t you bring her home to me? What’s wrong?”
“I’m sorry, Dillon.”
“What is it?”
“Cole Cassel has Cassie.”
Chapter 33
Dillon rocketed up off the sofa. “What do you mean, he has Cassie?”
“This morning Ed Reynolds told me that Cole and two of his henchmen broke into their house late last night, beat up Ryan, zip tied him, and took him and Cassie. Ed thinks they were taken to the sheriff’s office near the town square because Cole has taken it over as his base of operations.”
“Why did he take them?”
“I don’t know. If Ed knew, he didn’t say.”
Dillon swiveled, facing Chandler. “I’m leaving now to get Cassie. Come with me.”
Chandler, who had been leaning against a wall, took a step toward Dillon and put a hand on his arm, stopping him. “Dillon, it’s getting dark, and if we go blazing into town without a plan, anything could go wrong. A sheriff’s office might have a night vision equipped rifle, leaving us sitting ducks in the dark. We have to think this through if you want everyone to come home.”
“I almost lost her one time,” Dillon said. “I’m not going to lose her again. Don’t you understand? Cole will kill Cassie because he wants to get back at me.”
“Dillon, wait,” Dorothy interrupted. “Cole doesn’t know Cassie is your daughter. Ed said that when Cole pressed her for her last name she said Stallman.”
“Oh, thank God. She must have recognized him from his pictures online. She told me she was following the trial online. Then Cole must be after her friend.” Dillon hesitated. “What was his name?”
“Ryan,” Dorothy said.
“Why would he want Ryan?” Dillon asked.
“Don’t know.”
“Even if Cole doesn’t know who Cassie is, she’s only safe for a little while,” Dillon said. “I don’t plan to lose her again.
“We’re not going to lose her,” Chandler said. “You’re too wired up right now and too emotionally connected to think clearly. Take a deep breath and let me formulate a plan. I know the town square like the back of my hand, so let’s sit down and start stacking the odds in our favor. Holly, can you get me pencil and paper?”
“Yes,” Holly said.
“We’ll be at the dining room table.”
Holly riffled around a dresser drawer, shuffling papers until she found a legal pad and several pencils. Digging further, she found graph paper. Without bothering to close the drawer, she hurried to where the men were sitting, and handed the pad and pencils to Chandler.
“Graph paper,” Chandler acknowledged, taking the pad. “This will work better.”
Holly sat to one side of Chandler, while Dillon was on the other side. Amanda and Dorothy stood to the side, while Anna sat quietly in the living room reading a book.
Tearing off a piece of graph paper, Chandler used a pencil to draw the layout of the one-story sheriff’s office, located cattycornered to the courthouse. He told the others he had been an unwilling resident of the jail for a few nights before the EMP struck.
