This time she did laugh. She could see how people might be confused about her gender, she dressed like a man but looked feminine, and her voice was either fakey low or too high for a man. She must look like a peculiar country bumpkin with her oversized overalls, oversized hat, and soot-covered cheeks to disguise her fair complexion.
“Don’t mess with me,” she said, trying to sound as authoritative as Sheena. There were several empty plastic water bottles sitting next to the smoker table. She let off three rounds. Bang! Bang! Bang! She nailed all three.
The two men guarding the gate exchanged frantic glances. Unable to resist a sudden impulse, Scarlett shot the metal barrel of fish.
“Hey, you can’t do that. We have a deal?” Kelly tried to stop the water from pouring through the bullet hole.
“Past tense, ‘had’ a deal,” Scarlett retorted. Sheena had taught her how to play tough. Act like a wimp, and people walk all over you. Play it tough, and people didn’t know what to think. Scarlett turned around and finished packaging the last bundle of fish, aware Kelly seemed to be contemplating his next move. Had she pulled off her bluff? Her sweaty palms belied her calm exterior.
“What we doin’ with all these fish?” one of his men blubbered.
“Going to the competition. That’s what we be doing.” He finally unracked his Winchester and stomped off.
After the men left, Scarlett needed to sit down. She didn’t know she could actually pull it off. It was definitely time to leave Last Chance. An unnerving feeling warned time was running out—for her—for everyone there. We’ll be out of here in one or two days tops. Right? As for the fish, she could use a break. She’d be up all night smoking if they really had a hundred pounds, which she sincerely doubted. She locked the smoke fish bundles inside the boxcar and left for the caboose with a ten-pound bundle.
“Do you know what the gunshots were about?” Sheena asked as she approached the caboose.
“I took care of it,” Scarlett said, not wanting to talk about it.
“Let’s have an early dinner,” Sheena said as they climbed into the caboose. “Surprise! Tomatoes, cucumbers, and strawberries.”
“Ooh, strawberries,” Twila said with awe.
“You’re not selling it?” Scarlett retorted, adding the fish bundle to her stash under the caboose bunk. For Sheena, everything was always about the money. Scarlett was sick of it.
“We need the vitamins.” Sheena took baby Miguel from Ella. “You need to be healthy if you want to get into Texas,” she baby-talked, rocking baby Miguel in her arms. “How’d you do today?” Sheena asked.
“Sold out again. Then had some trouble. Kelly tried to swindle me into paying gold for his catch.”
“What did you do?”
“I was a bit pissed. The gunshots were mine. After I showed off my shooting skills, Kelly and his men left with the fish and no gold.”
“How is that good for you?” Sheena seemed disappointed.
“I couldn’t care less. I just want to leave,” Scarlett said. “Any word from your runners?”
“Anytime. I promise, after the big wagon train shells out their gold, we're outta here.”
“When?” Ella asked big-eyed.
“Two, maybe three days,” Sheena said.
“OMG, Texas here we come,” Ella exclaimed. “Justin’s looking for me. I feel it in my heart. They’re gonna freak when they see you, Scarlett. We all thought you were dead. Sometimes, I hear Justin calling my name in my dreams,” Ella said in a faraway voice.
“Me too, me too!” Twila joined in.
Sheena gave Scarlett a skeptical sidelong glance. Scarlett just smiled and nodded, careful not to say too much in front of Sheena. Ella had the dreams, too. Suddenly, the taste of blood lingered on her lips. Was it already too late? Should they steal a wagon and a team of horses and disappear in the night without Sheena? An image of a horde swarming a covered wagon gave her the shivers. A banging on the caboose interrupted the disturbing vision.
“Now what?” Sheena was irritated. “Can’t they get along five f’in minutes without us?”
Scarlett and Sheena both cocked their weapons before opening the door. “What up?” Sheena demanded. “Ha, it’s for you.” Sheena let out a sarcastic laugh.
Scarlett went to the door. Kelly stood next to the barrel of fish, looking down a bit sheepishly. She didn’t say anything.
“Turns out, Rick don’t want fish.”
“Why not?” Scarlett said, trying not to sound smug.
“He got a delivery of chickens. He doesn’t have time to waste with stinkin’ fish,” he said as if an insult to her.
“Too bad for you. I’ve got more fish than I can smoke,” she lied. “Better luck next time.” Scarlett started to close the door.
“Wait—” Kelly pleaded, a look of defeat in his eyes.
Scarlett called him on it. “You don’t have a hundred pounds of fish.”
He eyed her and then looked around nervously. “Pay me for sixty pounds. And I’ll call it square.”
Scarlett shook her head. “Forty,” she pressed.
“Yeah, okay,” he muttered.
She had expected him to go for fifty pounds. It was actually a great deal. There had to be at least sixty pounds based on her calculations. Scarlett holstered her gun and then jumped to the sandy ground. “What kind of fish?” she asked, removing the lid to inspect it.
“Heck, if I know. Fish is fish. It’s all cleaned and filleted the way you like.”
“Did you already take your cut, or do you want me to smoke yours?”
“I’m good.” He avoided the question.
Scarlett climbed the rail to the caboose. “Oh, and haul it to my smoke shop,” Scarlett shouted before slamming the door in his face.
“Good job.” Sheena grinned. “You make me proud.”
“You taught me everything I know.”
“More fish, more fish,” Twila chanted.
Scarlett grabbed a plate of food and a fresh set of clothes. “Looks like I’ll be spending the night smoking and taking naps between. She might as well hold off on taking a shower until after she was done smoking.
“Sweetie, sorry to leave you.” Scarlett gave Twila a hug.
“Well, have lots of fun,” Ella said to Twila.
“Thank you, Ella,” Scarlett said.
Not looking forward to a long night of smoking and feeling a bit depressed, Scarlett started the coals to the smokers. Maybe Kelly’s change of heart was a sign her impulsive decision to leave in the middle of the night had been a bad idea. It would give her time to rethink things. Oftentimes, her sporadic intuition spoke the loudest during mundane chores.
Scarlett had started making two types: the usual smoked fish to feed the daily crowds and the cured-salted variety for journeys. She didn’t know how long smoked fish lasted in the heat before spoiling. But, her salt supply was running low; she hadn’t pursued anymore, thinking they’d be gone by this time. “Now Sheena says two or three days. Yesterday it was one or two,” she grumbled. She added the mesquite chips to the coals. She might as well use the last of it. It gave the fish a wonderful flavor. She had recently upgraded to modern-day smokers, thanks to a surprise delivery by one of Sheena’s runners. She adjusted the dampers and started the first round while a barrel of fish soaked in the curing-salt mixture.
It was nearly four in the morning when Scarlett finished. After scrubbing the grills with a wire brush, she hit the shower. Then she checked on the guards to settle the uneasy feeling rattling her nerves. She counted six guards on duty next to their pale glowing lanterns. She shrugged off her uneasiness.
Scarlett was absolutely famished with a craving for the seconds, the tasty bits burnt to a crisp that had fallen onto the smoker. Her favorite. She leaned back in a lawn chair and nibbled the tasty bits, letting the cool mid-summer’s breeze blow-dry her long hair piled on the top of her head with a hairclip.
For some reason, Kevin came to mind. He definitely would have disapproved
of her parading as a man. He had hated it when she’d worn the wrong color of red lipstick. It was liberating not worrying how she looked. Still, she wondered what had happened to him. Or more like, how it had happened. What would her life have been like if he hadn’t have jilted her days before the wedding? Perhaps the called-off wedding was the one event that had spared her life. Who’d of thought she of all people would be the successful proprietor of a smoked fish enterprise in the middle of the flipping desert, responsible for Twila, Ella, and baby Miguel? How does a thing like that happen?
Fate . . . A small voice answered. Her own voice. Intuition.
***
The sound of her homemade plywood gate dragging in the sand interrupted her peaceful dream. She wasn’t ready to wake up. She opened her eyes enough to see the sky splattered with whimsical pinkish-orange clouds. Was it going to rain she wondered in her drowsy state? Sheena was probably checking on her. She groggily opened her eyes, face to face with—Zac. I like this dream. She closed her eyes, willing the dream to continue.
“Em mm,” he cleared his throat.
“Yes,” she responded.
“I should have known it was you. You make the best smoked fish west of the Pecos,” he said with a note of laughter in his voice.
She thought back. Zac had mentioned something like that back at the bugged-out treehouse. She kept her eyes closed and stretched. “Tell me more,” she asked not ready for the dream to end.
“Scarlett from Roseville.” The words lingered on her lips like the anticipation of a long-awaited kiss.
“The people ’round here call me, Lewis,” she drawled.
Strong arms lifted her from the lawn chair; she didn’t resist. In her dream, she laughed and smiled in the arms of her lover. Suddenly, warm, gentle lips teased her neck. Just for a minute, she thought, Let the dream last another minute. It was a foolish notion. There was no time to indulge in romantic dreams. Jeez, just shut up and enjoy the moment.
Her damp curly hair fell from the hairclip. Yes, yes, she needed to braid it and cover her face with soot to give her that genderless look. Firm, inviting lips took over her every thought. A kiss that lasted for an eternity. Timeless. She tasted timelessness. Her arms found broad, strong shoulders and clung to them. For once she was not alone. She didn’t have to carry the weight of the apocalypse on her shoulders.
She didn’t want to open her eyes. Refused. Not wanting the magical dream to disappear, knowing once she reached that point of realization, it would instantly vanish with only fleeting glimpses to remind her of it until it completely vanished into the abyss where lost dreams went, never to be remembered again. Just a minute longer, she thought. She returned the never-ending kiss. Their lips melted together. Searching, tasting, feeling. Loving. His hands caressed her body, her shoulders, her back, her breasts, roving around in a bubble of light flowing over her, through her, in her, until their bodies shimmered with dancing rainbows of light.
“Scarlett,” the dream said too loudly.
Her eyes blinked opened. Alert mode kicked-in. The magic gone. What? She was in Zac’s arms. Not a dream. She jumped back and flashed him a look of disdain, remembering the day he had disappeared and left Twila with her. Anger surged through her veins. Scarlett brushed him back. “You, you—how could you leave me with Twila with the Ravers so close? Who would do that?” She looked at him beseechingly.
Zac seemed taken aback. “I had to go. Don’t tell me . . . is Twila all right? Did she make it?”
“No thanks to you,” she accused.
“Well, you’ve done well for yourself.” He helped himself to a fillet of fish. “Best fish ever,” he said just as arrogant as she remembered. “I’ve suspected it ever since I dropped off the mother and baby. There was something about your eyes, the way they light up your face.”
Scarlett flashed him another round of disdain. “And you just came on to me like we were long lost lovers . . .” she continued ranting, not ready to let go of her anger, and the fact she had given in to his charms.
“You didn’t seem to mind so much.”
Scarlett busied herself, checking the smokers even though she had already cleaned them. “Zac, what are you doing here?” Scarlett finally asked.
“Told you I’d be back.”
“Well, you’re late. I thought you died or, or—”
“I’d say my timing was impeccable.” His I’m-too-sexy smile was so irresistible, her groin pulsated. “The way I see it, you owe me a big thank you.”
“You egocentric jerk!”
“Hey, where’d that come from. One minute your melting in my arms, and now I’m a jerk. My uncle was right, never trust a dame.” His eyes laughed, taunting her. “Look, if you’re sore because I didn’t make it back sooner, we were in route here, but we couldn’t shake this vile horde. I couldn’t lead the horde here. So, I rode solo for a few miles and led the horde to a river, then I took off and met my caravan about twenty miles east of here. I caught up with another caravan and paid mega bucks for enough food to get us to Immigrant Station.”
She was speechless for a moment. It certainly wasn’t what she had expected him to say. “Thanks. I don’t open for another hour,” she sniped.
“It gives us plenty of time.” His smoldering eyes nearly knocked her off her feet. “Here’s the deal. I just got a contract to liberate a high-value asset out of Tuscon. A biochemical engineer. Apparently, he has intel on Patient Zero. And they're paying me hella-bucks to save his ass.”
“Why doesn’t Texas send their own army?” It seemed highly unlikely they’d send one man for such an important person.
“I’m the best, baby,” he said in a sultry tone.
“I thought you only took refugees.”
“A little freelancing never hurt anyone. After this job, I’ll take the mother and child off your hands.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. Ella and her baby are going with me.” She stood her ground.
“Scarlett, don’t you see. The timing’s amazing. It’s kismet. When I think of everything I went through to find you after Uncle Mario told me you and Twila had been there . . . When did you make it here?”
“March.” The realization they’d been at Last Chance far too long flashed like blinding code-red strobe lights.
“Did you take the slow boat from China? Mario said you and Twila came by last November. Did you join the Primm Brothers’ caravan? You’re lucky you made it. They’re a bunch of imbeciles.”
“Never heard of them,” she offered vaguely, finally letting go of her anger.
“Well, whose group did you ride with? I need to know who my competition is. Five months is a hell of a long time to be on the trail. How much did those scammers set you back for?”
“Actually, Twila and I made the journey on our own,” she said wistfully.
“You aren’t serious?” His brows furrowed.
“Remember the day I found you and Twila in the woods?” Scarlett thought back.
He gave her a rather devilish smile. “How can I forget. I knew you were a crazy dame back then. You shot me, as I recall,” he said. He was definitely flirting, which she found irresistible.
“By accident,” she assured. “If you hadn’t disguised Twila as a bush and if she hadn’t tackled me to the ground smothering me with kisses, then the gun wouldn’t have gone off,” she reminded. It had been a rather comical incident. She had thought he was a soldier.
“Oh, now it’s my fault you shot me.” That I’m-too-sexy grin of his spread across his face.
Jeez, what’s wrong with my hormones. “I was livid when I woke to find you had left the child with me. Really, how’d you expect me to take care of her all by myself with Ravers practically living in my backyard?” She finally had the opportunity to ask the question she’d been dying to ask all this time. Funny, it was no longer relevant. What would she have done if he hadn’t have left Twila with her? As difficult as their day-to-day survival had been, in all actuality, Twila had saved her.
&n
bsp; “Wait, you were alone? You said you were living with an enclave of survivors.”
“I was playing it safe.”
Zac nodded. “Now I understand. You know, I would have taken both of you with me had I known. Good thing it worked out like it did. I almost didn’t make it out myself. Ran into the Ravers. It wasn’t pretty.” He gave her a sincere gaze. “You must have an angel in high places watching over you.”
“And Mario and Betty?” Scarlett remembered the dreadful feeling Betty had died the day they had left the ranch house.
The sadness in his eyes answered her question. “Ravers killed Aunt Betty. Murdered her point-blank right in front of my uncle. She was an example of his insubordination.”
“What about Mario?”
“They needed my uncle too much. He relocated to a secluded spot in Tuolumne County. He’s working with a group of rebels. They’re still operating the Underground. We streamlined it. I bring a new set of refugees every forty to fifty days. But—”
“What?”
“Texas is getting choosy. My source says they’ll close the floodgates any day, except for people on their Most Wanted list, which changes with the flick of a cigarette.”
“What about you?” she asked.
“No problemo. I’m an official resident with several properties. A model citizen,” he said with a wink.
“I thought they didn’t let people go back and forth across the border.”
“They don’t. It’s who you know and how many favors you pocket for later. Meanwhile, my uncle and his rebel compadres keep procuring the gold while I’m padding my retirement, diversifying my assets. One day it will all come crashing down. Like it always does.”
“It sounds like you’re running for Congress?” Scarlett accused.
“Pretty much the same game,” he agreed. “When I drop off my asset I’ll secure the LSC docs for you, Twila, the mother, and baby.”
“LSC?”
“Last State Citizenship documents.” He shuffled through his shoulder pack. He pulled out a camera. “It still has enough juice to take photos. I’ll return with your official documents. That’s the hard part.” He offered a surly grin.
Only The Dead Don't Die (Book 2): The Hunger's Howl Page 30
