by E A Lake
That got a smile. And the name caused the gun to lower, a little. “So you’re that young fellow hanging out with Lettie and all her people. You changed locations…after the fire?”
I nodded, finally feeling safe. “We all had to move into my place. It’s kind of cramped, but at least we’re safe.
He seemed to approve, lowering the gunstock to the ground.
“Fire kill anyone?” he asked, sounding as if he didn’t care one way or the other.
“Dizzy,” I answered solemnly. “But he was shot. That gang of thieves tearing around on horseback caused it all.”
He spit next to himself and nodded. “Clyde Barster and his gang of assholes,” he muttered in disdain. “Not bad enough we all gotta live like this, but we gotta put up with the likes of him.”
I leaned against the fence. “You know the guy?”
He shrugged, making brief eye contact. “I know everyone up here,” he stated. It didn’t sound like he was bragging, more like just something he knew. “He comes from down by Amasa. Robbed that place blind during the first winter. Now he stays alive by stealing from others. Poor Dizzy.”
He extended a long-fingered hand through the fencing. “Thaddeus Wilson,” he said, introducing himself.
I shook it, breathing a sigh of relief with the progress I was making, though I still had a long way to go with this one. “You can just call me Wilson, for obvious reasons,” he continued. His eyes narrowed as he wet his lips. “I suppose you want to talk some rubbish about a pregnant girl now?”
Crap! This guy was prepared for anything. Next, he’d be guessing how many eggs I planned on fitting in my backpack.
He frowned, leaning on the opposite side of the fence. “It ain’t ours, ya know.” Oh, so he wanted to play it that way — denial. I already had the trump card for that angle.
“Tell me, Mr. Wilson,” I began, fighting back a grin, “back when you had hair, what color was it?”
His face remained unchanged. “Can’t really recall. Been a while since I lost it all.”
“How about your ex-wife’s? Or your boys?” I knew if I stayed after it, the truth would eventually pop. Plus, I already knew the answer.
“Don’t see where that’s none of your business,” he answered, avoiding eye contact at all costs.
Time for the kill shot. “If I was a bettin’ man, I’d say it was red. Somewhere there’s red hair, right?” I rolled my head to force him to look me in the face.
He was quiet for several minutes, rubbing at his lips with dirty fingers. “It was Jimmy,” he finally surrendered in a quiet tone. “Johnny told me all about it. Said they were only intimate once, not that it matters now, I suppose.”
“And she has arrived,” I added, noting the surprise in his face.
“She?” he asked, his voice catching on the single word.
“Yes,” I replied, nodding. “A beautiful little girl named Hope.”
I saw the corners of his lips curl slightly. “Seems like a funny name, given what we’re up against nowadays.”
I smiled and nodded. I agreed, but funny as it sounded, Hope was the only thing keeping us from giving up.
Day 1,003
I returned from my adventure with a bounty none of us could’ve ever imagined. With the weight of my bag and an extra gunnysack thrust upon me by Wilson, I didn’t return until well after dark. It wasn’t until I flopped the bags onto the floor and myself on the couch that things began to add up.
My strange new friend left me standing by his fence for several hours as he assembled a care package. He mentioned something about it being ‘his duty’. Couldn’t have a poor defenseless baby starve to death, he claimed, not as long as he could help.
So I waited, sitting against the fence, while the white, puffy clouds occasionally blocked the direct sunlight, only to race eastward after a bit. Behind me, the sounds of cows and sheep droned into the warm spring afternoon.
I had fallen asleep by the time he came back. Guiding me to a gate in the mid-section of his fencing, he undid the lock and passed the hefty sack to me.
“I’d like to come visit sometime, if I could,” he requested.
We agreed on several days from then and parted ways with another handshake.
He never told me what was in the bag, but Lettie, Marge and Daisy tore into it as soon as I dropped it to the floor.
Inside was a cornucopia of goods that took our breath away. Wilson, it seemed, was a resourceful man in the wilderness.
Marge and Daisy announced each gift: three cans of powdered lemonade, two dozen carefully packed eggs, a package wrapped in white butcher paper with a large pile of smoked ham, six small containers of milk and a small bag of flour.
Daisy began to cry when she reached the bottom of the sack.
“Containers...” she gasped, brushing way tears. “Four containers of powdered baby formula.”
How and why raced through my mind. Somehow in the middle of the worst the world could throw at us, this tall, thin, rather dull-looking man had the answer to all of our prayers.
Hope sucked formula from the bottle, only stopping to be burped midway through. It was then I realized that the baby had cried very little. Finally, we were all able to sleep and breathe like normal people again.
When Hope finished the second bottle, Daisy burped her and laid the happy child on some blankets on the couch. Her cooing lulled her to sleep almost instantly.
Beside me, Lettie stared at the miracle.
“Never thought that child would quit screaming,” she crowed, peeking over the edge of the blankets at her. “Glad her mother is finally happy as well. She getting dressed?”
She addressed the last part to Marge, or perhaps Daisy. I had no idea what the teen mother was up to.
“She said she wanted to look nice for Mr. Wilson’s visit,” Daisy answered, scurrying about the room. “Has anyone seen the hairbrush?”
While we only had one hairbrush, that wasn’t the worst of it. Seven people also shared two toothbrushes. And all toothpaste had vanished with the fire at Lettie’s home.
“He said he’d come sometime after high noon,” I announced, pondering whether I should head outside and cut some more wood. Remembering that it might wake Hope, I decided to hold off. Instead, I sat on the bench out front to keep an eye on Nate and Libby.
Though not as warm as the previous week, the sun still felt good. Everything felt good, actually. We finally had a little food, a happy baby and the pressure of the daily grind had loosened, thanks to Wilson’s promise of sharing what he could.
Deep inside, the reality of my world darkened my soul. There was a problem that needed solving, and soon, before it found us again.
Lettie must have seen it on my face when she joined me outside.
“You know, everyone is well aware of what bothers you.” It wasn’t really a question, more of a statement from the old woman.
I nodded minutely. “It’s not going away, you know. When I went for the last of the food after your place burned down, there were strange tracks by the cellar door. Not mine for sure. And three or four sets of them. They know we had more.”
Lettie huffed at my wisdom. “Well, they ought to know it’s all gone by now then.”
That made sense, but the idea of those people attacking one last time, even if we prevailed, made my stomach flip.
“It’s only a matter of time before they show up here, Lettie,” I replied quietly. “I know it, you know it…” I thrust a thumb over my shoulder. “And they all know it. Gotta be dealt with.”
Gently, she patted my hands. “Just give it a little more time,” she said. “Just a little more. Then you can do what you got to.”
Day 1,006
I must have had my days mixed up. Or heard wrong. It wasn’t until almost a full week after my initial visit with Wilson that I saw him walking down the road in a slight drizzle.
From a fog he appeared, dressed in an old black suit coat, matching pants that were a bit too short and wh
at looked like a fresh white shirt. Behind him he pulled a wagon. The clanging metal wheels announced his arrival as he descended from the roadway.
“Thaddeus Wilson,” Lettie announced from the doorway. “I haven’t laid eyes on you since before this hell all began.”
He tipped the wide-brimmed black hat in her direction. “Afternoon, Lettie.” He nodded at me. “Bob.” From the way he was dressed he could have once upon a time been mistaken for Amish or Mennonite. Now he was just another odd character in our equally odd world.
“What’d you bring us, Wilson?” I asked, pointing at his wagon.
Removing his hat, he ran a hand over his smooth head. “Oh, just a couple more things,” he drawled, looking at the wagon more than Lettie or I. “Just some stuff I didn’t need that I thought you could use.”
“Some beef jerky, dried and salted bacon, half-dozen large jars of boiled potatoes.” He walked back and lifted the tarp. “Some dried beets, turnips, grapes.” He lifted a bag and tossed it at us. “And this was the bonus find.”
I opened it, unsure of what I might find. Pieces of white cloth. I pulled one out and held it up for Lettie’s inspection. She smiled.
“Cloth diapers,” she proclaimed. “Those will come in mighty handy.” She cast a glance at our visitor. “Where’d you come up with them, Thaddeus?”
He grinned youthfully. “Me and the wife never threw anything out. Never knew when you might be able to use it.”
I nodded, understanding the wisdom. “Where’d you get the baby formula?” I asked. “I would think all the canned stuff would have been long gone by now.”
Playing with his hat, he shrugged. “I’m a good trader,” he stated modestly. “People want what I got, food mostly. I knew that little girl was coming before last winter. So I put the word out.”
He stared at me seriously. “Got to protect our own,” he said, his eyes never leaving mine. “And I got news for you on Barster’s location. But first, I’d like to see my granddaughter, if you don’t mind.”
Ah, quid pro quo. I could produce a baby. Especially if it meant I received the information I so desperately needed. Together, we all went inside.
Violet shook as she met her father-in-law, per se. In all actuality, Wilson was just Hope’s grandfather, but the teen, who had no intensions of marrying Jimmy Wilson, still put on all the faces of a girl at her first dance.
Tears formed in the man’s eyes as he peered at the child, sleeping in her mother’s arms. When asked if he wanted to hold her, he shook his head.
“Never held a little girl before,” he said in a quiet, almost embarrassed tone. “Wouldn’t want to break her.”
Daisy stepped forward and took Hope in her arms. “Just put your arms out. I’ll help you,” she said, her loving voice causing the man to nod slightly. “I’m sure Vi would love to have you hold her.”
Holding the baby stiff-armed, he tipped his head forward and kissed her forehead. Almost as quickly as she was nestled in his thin arms, he handed her back to Daisy.
“Better take her,” he said, sniffing back tears. “I’m about to explode with joy, and I don’t want to blubber all over this precious gift.”
I didn’t know what I had expected, but this wasn’t it. For all appearances, Thaddeus Wilson was perhaps the most stoic man I’d ever met. Watching him take a handkerchief from his back pocket and blow his nose, then dry his eyes, I too was moved with emotion.
“We have some needs we should talk about,” he continued, turning to Lettie and me.
Yes, yes we did. My revenge for Dizzy’s death was still my main priority. Luck would have it that this man held the information I so desperately wanted to hear.
Day 1,006 - continued
Outside in the shade, Wilson, Lettie, Marge and I took spots on the bench and chairs. Wilson’s face had returned to its normal state, tight and dour. He nodded to the women.
“First thing we need to obtain are some staples,” he began in his baritone voice. “I don’t know how you are on flour and salt, but I’m damn near out.”
“Same here,” Lettie answered, nodding as she spoke. “Little sugar wouldn’t hurt either.”
“There’s a fish camp up in Ontonagon that is supposed to have plenty of dry goods like we’re looking for,” Wilson reported, twirling his hat in his hands. “I’ve got some dried meat I can send, but rumor has it what they really need is people.” He glanced up at us all.
I peeked at Lettie while she stared at Marge. Marge’s blue eyes were fixed on Wilson.
“Got a body you can spare for six months?” Wilson asked. “They’ll pay that person’s body weight in supplies. I’ll have Johnny go up with a cart full of my stuff. Whoever can walk with him. It’s about 75 miles. Three days up and three days back. What do you think, Bob?”
Not me, I thought. I didn’t want to waste another day, much less a week, in going after Dizzy’s murderers. However, I noticed all eyes were focused my direction.
“He can’t go,” Lettie stated plainly. “He’s our protection. What about your boy, Marge?”
She shook her head violently like it was the worst idea she’d ever heard.
“Someone needs to go,” Wilson continued. “It’s only six months. Be over quicker than you think. And you’d be back by the time the snows got real bad.”
Our group sat silent for several minutes, each of us contemplating new supplies and what that would mean for the others…and six months away from home.
“I’ll go,” Marge replied, barely above a whisper.
That set me sideways for a moment. “Are you sure, Marge?”
She nodded. “I’m healthy; Daisy can help take care of Violet and the baby. She has more recent firsthand experience than I do. Nate can get along without me for that long, I’m sure.”
Wilson cleared his throat. “Speaking of your boy, I was wondering if he’d maybe come and live with me and mine for the summer. We can really use the extra help now that we’re planting and tending to crops. Probably do him some good as far as growing up concerns.”
Against what I believed to be astronomical odds, I saw Marge peek at Lettie and nod.
“Yes,” Marge replied. “That would be good for him I believe.”
I slid forward on the bench, reaching for her hands and attention. “Are you sure about this, Marge? Not just Nate, but yourself as well?”
She looked at me, fierce determination flashing in her eyes. “We all have to do whatever it takes to survive, Bob. So yes, I’m sure of everything.”
She may have been certain, but I wondered how Violet would take the news, giving up her mother and her brother for the upcoming summer.
Day 1,009
Marge left with Johnny Wilson, disappearing in a thick shroud of fog. They strolled north on the blacktop, heading for Covington. From there, they would turn northwest towards Ontonagon, another 65 miles plus.
To the south, we watched as Nate and Wilson vanished. He had some sort of secret route he took to his place. I always headed down Dizzy Drive to get back there. Lettie tried to explain it to me, but it was confusing. I just accepted the fact that a man who had lived in No Where all of his life knew his way around.
Daisy stood next to me, rocking little Hope back to sleep after one of her two morning bottles. Tears streaked her pale cheeks, dripping freely to the floor.
“How’s Violet taking all of this, now that D-Day is here?” I asked in a hushed tone.
Daisy shrugged, readjusting the squirming child in her arms.
“She and Marge aren’t really all that close,” she replied, turning to check the room. I did the same. Only Lettie was there, snoozing in her typical spot. Violet was absent, most likely changing in the bedroom since the door was closed.
“And Marge has always been closer to Nate,” Daisy continued. “I don’t think Vi is going to miss them half as much as if you had left.”
I rolled my eyes and headed outside to cut some wood. Daisy had a theory, and a stupid one at that. Secretly, s
he felt Violet adored me. That went against our entire relationship in my mind.
Whenever the teen spoke to me, a fair amount of disdain colored her tone. Sure, she stayed with me both times after I was shot, but her ‘oh-look-what-you’ve-done-to-yourself-now’ attitude made any sort of covert infatuation sound crazy to me. Holding the ax in my hands, I pondered the next few months. Wilson gave me directions to three probable locations for the Barster gang. According to recent reports, they were down to three people, though they were still on the attack. The two men he knew who were still living possessed alleged nasty dispositions, according to Wilson. And that was before the end of the world as we knew it.
By verbal agreement and a firm handshake, I promised Wilson I wouldn’t attack until the supplies were back and delivered by him. Only then would I leave and he would take my place on guard, watching over my family.
“Reduced family,” I said aloud, staring at the ax blade.
“What’s a reduced family?” A small voice asked from behind me, which made me nearly crap my pants. Turning, I spied Libby on a stump by the south end of the cabin. Her bare feet swung back and forth in a childish motion. Ants in her pants, Lettie claimed.
“We just have less, that’s all,” I replied, trying to gauge her mood. Normally she was a happy child. Now, I could tell by her frown she wasn’t feeling the same. “”What’s wrong, Libby?”
“I didn’t want Nate to go,” she whined softly. “He played with me a lot. Who’s going to play with me now?”
“I will,” a new voice answered. I looked up to see Violet coming through the door. If she were trying to cheer the little girl’s spirit, perhaps a smile would have helped.
“Lettie says we need to turn that dirt again in the garden,” Violet said to me, pointing just short of the road. “Since Daisy helped you last week, I figured I’d give her a break and help out today.”
