by Reed, N. C.
“It’s big,” Ruth commented, looking around her.
“That’s true, it is,” Lainie nodded. “But we make clothing for almost everyone on the farm at one point or another, so we need the room. Also, all the old clothing we have is stored here, either to pass it on to others, or else to tear it apart and use the cloth for something new. Would you like a tour?”
“Yes,” both girls said at once, still looking on in wonder.
“Well, come with me, then,” Lainie held out a hand to each of the girls. Each took a hand and stepped up beside the beautiful redhead, eager to see something even partially familiar.
-
“You have many horses as well as cattle,” Abram Troyer said as he rode beside Gordy Sanders, checking fences.
“We do,” Gordy agreed. “Even got a small herd of hogs, up near where you guys live. It’s pretty much a full-time job just to keep an eye on the fences around here,” he laughed.
“While we did not have so many, we raised cattle, too,” Abram shared. “My family, I mean, not Isaac. My father had a small herd of about one hundred, give or take depending on the time of year. He had horses, of course. We all do…we all did,” he corrected himself. “Those we brought with us, and the one cow, are all that remain. One livestock dog out of many. The others were shot and killed in the attack.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Gordy’s comment was heartfelt. “We’ve got a small herd of Kangal livestock dogs, and we let them run free, but call them in if we’re under a threat of any kind. We also have a large German Police and two Belgian Malinois, plus the Goat Lady has a pair of Australian Shepherds that herd her goats. We should have some pups soon out of the German Police and the Malinois, and maybe out of the Kangals not too long after that. No idea if Miss Lacey will ever let her dogs have pups or not.”
“We have a female Aussie with us,” Abram noted. “She is almost three years old and a well-trained stock dog. We lack stock for her to take care of, now, of course.”
“Might let her be bred by Jack,” Gordy suggested. “That’s Miss Lacey’s male dog. Some might not agree, but I say we can’t possibly have enough stock dogs. We can teach them to stay shut of one another if we have to but having maybe two dozen livestock guardian dogs roaming this big old ranch would be nice.”
“How big is this place?” Abram asked.
“The two farms combined come in at about four thousand acres, give or take one hundred acres. Plus, we’ve claimed about another thousand acres that are lying fallow to use until and unless the owner shows up. That was by order of the military commander, by the way, as part of an effort to feed his men and hopefully others. Unfortunately, he died during the plague,” Gordy shook his head. “Shame, too. He was a pretty cool guy.”
“Cool?” Abram asked, puzzled.
“Means he was okay. A good guy, yeah?” Gordy tried to explain.
“Ah, I see,” Abram nodded.
“Well, we got a ways to go yet, so we better get to it.”
-
“You ask only that we do the kind of work we have always done?”
Yes, sir,” Clay nodded. He had been talking to Isaac Miller as he gave him an abbreviated tour of the ranch. “We can sometimes use a hand with carpentry and the like, and we’re trying to teach everyone the older ways of doing things, especially the kids. While we still have a few modern conveniences, we know they won’t last. There’s no way to do much maintenance on them, and sooner or later, everything breaks. So, we want them to be prepared for that and be ready to make their way in the world ever how they need to.”
“A wise plan,” Isaac agreed. “While we are accustomed to doing things the ‘older way’, as you put it, we do that from a religious standpoint. While many of us will make an allowance for the use of modern equipment, it is something of a sore spot for many. I myself sit on the fence; I believe it is called. I have always thought that if using such things meant that I did a better job, thereby glorifying God in the process, then it could not be considered wrong, at least inherently. It would be the way in which it was used that would make it sinful or wrong.”
“Sounds well thought out,” Clay nodded, rolling the words over in his mind. “I like it. Might be we can apply that to ourselves, somehow.”
“You speak of the violence you feel forced to do in defense of home and family, no?” Isaac asked.
“I do,” Clay agreed. “I understand you folks don’t think that way, and why, but it’s just not in me to sit idly by while others destroy so much. I’ve fought against that kind of thing my entire adult life.”
“I understand you were in the military,” Isaac stated rather than asked.
“A lot of us here were,” Clay nodded.
“That is not our way,” Isaac said simply.
“That is my understanding,” Clay’s reply was equally simple.
“We cannot assist you in defending this place,” Isaac pressed on.
“Haven’t asked you to,” Clay surprised him. “I fought for people to have religious freedom as well as physical freedoms. I’m not going to change that when I’m on my own soil. Your beliefs tell you that you can’t fight back, then you won’t be placed in a position where we need you to. If you don’t defend yourself, however, I can’t ultimately be responsible for you or your family. We’ll do our best, but sometimes that isn’t enough.”
“Nor would I ask of you to take responsibility,” Isaac nodded slowly. “Ultimately, our safety is in God’s hands, Clayton. We will depend upon Him to either deliver us from harm, or should it be His will that we perish, then to deliver us from the Evil one. That deliverance is the most important.”
“I’ve heard that, too.”
-
“Thank you for inviting me into your home, Mrs. Sanders,” Mary Troyer said softly. “I am grateful to you.”
“Well, I thought you might could use the chance to get out and about,” Angela smiled. “I can vaguely remember when my children were so young and it’s wearing on you. I figured by the time you got settled good, they’d be fighting over him,” she nodded to where Dee Talbot, Dottie Greer, Evelyn Lacey, Amy Mitchell and Daisy and Jasmine Webb were fawning over little John.
At first Mary had been as hesitant as any new mother about allowing so many strangers around her son. That concern had stopped within minutes as she noted how careful all of them were, and how enamored they were with her son. She smiled very slightly at the sight of grown women in a good-natured argument over whose ‘turn’ it was to hold, change or play with the baby in the house.
“They seem to be of gentle hearts,” Mary noted. “And yes, it has been exhausting,” she surprised Angela by admitting. “We would not normally be well thought of if we said something of the sort, but…anyone who would have chastised me for it is gone, I’m afraid.”
“I know, dear, and I am so sorry,” Angela reached out to pat the younger woman’s knee. “No one should have to endure so much. But you aren’t alone. Many of us have endured much worse,” she looked to the women again, where Amy, Daisy and Jasmine looked as animated as she had seen them look in some time. Amy had been doing well by all appearances, but Angela didn’t doubt that she still woke up screaming on occasion.
“But that’s enough about that,” Angela smiled brightly. “Truth is, I wanted to ask you about something. We’ve been trying to learn how to do a few things since all this started, and one of them was using a spinning wheel, and a loom. We’ve had a few videos to watch that help teach people how to do those jobs, among others, but we still haven’t had much success. Would you happen to know how to do either?”
“Yes, of course,” Mary nodded at once.
“Could we impose upon you to teach us how?” Angela clasped her hands in front of her as if she was begging. “We have materials that we’ve stored since the harvest. Well, the linen we’ve broken down into strands, actually. But anyway, we would be in your debt if you would show us how to work the wheel and the loom both.”
“I
would be delighted to help,” Mary smiled for the first time in what seemed like years. “And there could be no debt after how well you have treated us. It would seem as if I were contributing in some way.”
“Oh, honey, it wouldn’t just seem like it,” Angela assured her. “We’ve been on the verge of pulling our hair out trying to get this to work. We’ll let them fawn over John a little longer while I send for my daughter and then we can give it a try!”
-
“Who are your helpers, Lainie?” Beverly Jackson asked, smiling as she saw Ruth and Martha Miller working at disassembling older clothing into pieces that could repurposed.
“Aren’t they cute?” Lainie bragged, winking at both girls. “They have slid right into things and are already doing work for the farm after just a week. How about that?”
“How about that, indeed,” Beverly smiled. She walked casually over to the same table the girls were sitting at and took a seat.
“Are you here to talk to us more?” Ruth asked, looking at the woman before her.
“Not today, sweetie,” Beverly shook her head. “This is where I work when I’m not busy with other things. I’ve been going through all these clothes for a while now. Mostly when I’m not helping Lainie with the actual sewing.”
“You work here too?” Ruth couldn’t quite hide the suspicious tone of her voice as she looked closer at Beverly.
“I do, part of the time,” Beverly nodded. “Most of us have more than one job, and many of us have three or more. This happens to be one of mine. I like to pretend I’m a fashion consultant,” she laughed.
With that Beverly settled in to work, careful to all but ignore the presence of the two girls. She could observe how well they were coping without asking them any questions or intruding on their sense of peace. It would let the psychologist determine their progress in a ‘real world’ setting, instead of the clinic.
Ruth watched her carefully for full minute, highly suspicious of the pretty woman and her motives for being there. She had to admit after that minute or so that Beverly showed no interest in Ruth or Martha, and her brief interactions with Lainie seemed to indicate that she really did work in the sewing center at least part-time.
With no reason to continue her blatant doubt, Ruth returned to her work. Every few minutes she would look up suddenly, but each time she found Beverly hard at work and essentially ignoring the Miller sisters.
Across the way, Lainie bent her head toward her work to hide a small smile. Beverly was really good at what she did.
-
“I do not understand why I am so tired,” Abram complained, fighting a yawn as he once more rode with Gordy Sanders. “I slept soundly last night.”
“Probably PTSD, man,” Gordy told him. “Happens to most people who have been through a shock to the system.”
“PTSD?” Abram repeated, puzzled.
“Sorry,” Gordy laughed. “Stands for ‘Post Traumatic Stress Disorder’. Something that soldiers and first responders get diagnosed with quite a bit. The body’s reaction to the let down from adrenaline fueled stress, or words that sound like that, anyway,” he laughed again. “Anyway, people who have been through a stressful situation often end up suffering from it. You should talk to Jaylyn and see what she thinks. If she feels like you need it, she can set you up with Beverly. She can help you, Abram. She’s helped most all of us at one time or another.”
“You?” Abram asked, curious.
“Yep.”
-
“Got it?”
“I already said I got it,” Heath replied, exasperated. Zach meant well, as did Titus, but he was hurting, and his temper was getting short.
“Easy, now,” Titus soothed. “We didn’t doubt you was good to go, really. Just…checking, I guess. We don’t want nothing to happen to ya.”
“Yeah, I don’t either,” Heath nodded. “I’ve been shot enough for a lifetime.”
“If you’re hurting, you should stop,” Zach ordered, moving to where he could support Heath if his strength failed. Heath was currently doing pullups, trying to get to ten.
“I’m fine,” Heath grunted, pulling.
“No, you’re not,” Titus argued, grabbing Heath by the core and lifting him. Heath released his grip on the bar without thinking and Titus put him down on his feet.
“What’d you do that for?” Heath demanded, rubbing his left arm.
“Because you were about to give out, dude,” Titus replied. “Your arms were trembling, and you were pulling harder with your right than your left. You’re done for the day, my man.”
Heath looked as if he were about to argue when the sound of a throat clearing stopped him. He turned to see Leanne Tillman standing behind him, maybe twenty feet away, arms folding beneath her breasts as her small foot tapped the ground. The frown on her face told him she had seen and heard everything.
“Uh, hi,” he smiled tiredly. “What’s up?”
“’Uh, hi’?” Leanne repeated. “Is that the best you got?”
“Oookay,” Zach and Titus said in a chorus. “I think we’ll just be moving along, then,” Zach continued as the two grabbed their own gear. “Good work, brother,” he nodded to Heath. “You’re improving every day. We’ll see you later.”
“Cowards,” Heath muttered. “Traitors.”
“Harsh, but not untrue,” Titus snickered. “Good luck with that.”
The two departed before they could face any kind of wrath from the Tiny Terror. While not truly tiny, Leanne was much shorter than any of them, by at least a foot. And her temper was famous across the farm. It hadn’t taken long for the name to stick, having been coined by Corey Reynard himself.
“It sounded suspiciously to me as if you were pushing yourself too hard,” Leanne accused Heath, once his friends had made their retreat.
“I’m pushing myself as much as I can, yeah,” Heath nodded. “I figure as long as I don’t hurt myself or collapse, then it’s not really to the point of being too hard.”
“I’m not sure Doctor Thatcher would agree,” Leanne argued. “And I don’t either,” she added.
“Leanne, I have to get back into shape,” Heath reasoned. “I’ve spent two months laid up. My arm is weak, and so is my shoulder. It’s not all from the injury, either. It’s partly from atrophy due to doing nothing for weeks. I need to rebuild the muscle mass and the only way to do that is to push the muscles. Yeah, it hurts, and yeah, it’s tough, but it has got to be done. It’s either that or just quit. I’m not going quit.”
“I don’t expect you to quit, Heath,” Leanne’s voice softened. “I do expect you to be more careful. Please. I…I’d prefer not to see you lying in that hospital again. Please,” she repeated, eyes glistening slightly with unshed tears.
“That’s not fair, using the puppy eyes and the tears both at the same time,” Heath chuckled, and Leanne’s face went red. “I promise I’m being careful. My two mother hens are being careful for me, in fact. They’re with me every day for just that reason. It’s going to be fine.”
“Let’s go see the doctor and then we can get something to eat,” Leanne changed gears on him all at once. Holding her hand out, she waited for him to gather his things and then take her hand in his. They walked to the clinic in near silence, enjoying one another’s company.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Clay watched patiently as everyone gathered in front of the pad at Building Two. The tumult that had resulted in the coming money system, bank and store had reached almost a fever pitch in less than two weeks as people wondered what about this, what about that, what about something else, and so forth, until Clay had finally just called a mass meeting to both explain the plans and to allow for questions. Lainie, Patricia and his mother had all volunteered to watch the orphanage, while the men from his old unit along with Gordy, Zach and Titus were handling all the security duties.
When it looked as if people had stopped heading their way, Clay gave it five more minutes before stepping up on the trailer they were usin
g as a stage, microphone in hand.
“Okay, folks,” he held up a hand. “If we can all settle down, we can get started. Come on, now! Most of you wanted this or something like it so let’s settle down and get on with it!” Noise gradually died away as everyone gave him their attention.
“Okay, so everyone here has heard some form or version of the plan, or else someone’s opinion or version of said plan. While there is some truth in most of the stories I’ve heard, or been approached with, none have had the entire truth and most have had some outlandish lies. So, I’m going to explain what we have so far as a plan, and then take questions. I’m warning you now, don’t ask me silly shit that I’ve already covered or that you know are silly. I won’t respond well to that, and you won’t like my response.”
“It was my idea to open a store,” Clay began. “There are things we likely want, and we can trade or barter with people to bring them in to us, which limits our exposure to whatever is outside this farm. Things like metal, car parts and the like. Also, people will have items they want to sell, or trade for something they need. The idea here is not so much to make money as to provide a couple of services and needs. The services are, as I said, to gather items we need or think we need, and to offer people a place to display their wares, for lack of a better word, when they make something, or maybe have a service to offer.”
“The bank idea grew out of that, in a way, as we began talking about money. In this case we’re talking about establishing a specie-based economy here that we hope will spread out to the area around us as time goes on. For those wondering what specie means, it’s just a fancy word for coinage or for minting coins. Metal or precious metal money. We’re going to use silver coins, and to a lesser extent some gold coins, to get this started.”
“The bank is a way not only for you to keep money safely in an account, but also to help get money into the hands of people outside the farm, whether through loans, or else through cashing in receipts from some of you for things they have brought to sell you.”
