Gwen shifted again, hugging her. Loomis smiled. She resolved to sleep without a nightshirt all the time.
It had been difficult to touch herself in a sexual way at first. Since that terrible night, she had never allowed herself to think of those things. That was for other people, not her. Once past the initial embarrassment and vulnerability of being naked, however, she’d become excited. She found it hard to watch Gwen’s hands roam across that pale skin, stroking her nipples into swollen peaks that begged for attention. When she’d mirrored Gwen’s actions, she’d lost track of who touched whom. Her breasts had ached so much that she’d easily done what she hadn’t yet been able to allow Gwen to do. In her mind, it had been Gwen caressing her, exciting her.
Loomis sighed, a slight smile on her face. She called to mind the silky sensation of Gwen against her fingertips. The heat and wetness had startled Loomis at first, but she’d forgotten her surprise as Gwen began to respond to her firm strokes. She’d watched in awe as her lover undulated beneath her touch, instinctively matching her fingers’ movements with the bucking of Gwen’s hips. At some point, Gwen had released her, grasping at the bed for purchase as she yielded to Loomis’s touch. That hadn’t lasted long. Soon Gwen had captured Loomis’s hand again, guiding her as she reached the pinnacle before her orgasm.
Gwen’s face at the moment of release was the most beautiful thing Loomis had ever seen.
She nuzzled Gwen, bestowing a kiss on her forehead.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“You ready?” Tommy Boy sat astride Starkey, looking comfortable in the saddle after a near month of riding lessons.
Loomis looked up from Tempest’s bridle. “Yeah.”
Tommy Boy nodded. Franklin was in his lap, and he lifted the child down to Emerita. After a quick kiss between them, Emerita returned to the dooryard of the cabin where the others waited. This was their first official expedition into Cascade. Loomis had hitched Tempest up to the family cart, something he wasn’t too pleased with but suffered with an occasional flick of his tail and a grumble as she passed. A new-made cart was hitched behind the homestead’s plow horse. The cart had once been an old pickup truck that they had converted for Tommy Boy’s family. It had taken a week to remove the cab and fit the bed with a wagon tongue, a week of pushing their meager battery bank to its limit with the rarely used power tools. A hand pump had been used to air the tires. Two-by-fours had been attached to the frame to give it added structure and a base for plywood siding to be added later and increase load capacity. Terry and Kevin sat inside with their camping gear, and Cara perched on the makeshift box seat.
Loomis followed Emerita to the cabin door where Rick and Heather stood arm in arm. Lucky held Oscar beside them, a hand shading her eyes in the morning light. Megan and Delia fidgeted nearby. Megan had been in a snit since Loomis had told her she couldn’t join them.
Rick grimaced. “I can still go.”
Loomis shook her head at her brother. “Next trip. We’ll be fine. You keep the home fires burning.”
He didn’t argue, but was no more pleased at being left behind than Megan. He understood the wisdom of it. This trip would take several days, and there was too much work to be done on the homestead to leave it empty for an extended period. “Be safe.”
“I will.” She gave him a hug and kissed Heather on the cheek.
“Loomis.”
“No.” Loomis squatted down before her daughter. “You’re too little to be roaming around. I need to know you’re safe.” Megan’s lower lip stuck out, and Loomis lightly tapped it. “Watch it, missy. A bird’s going to fly over and drop a turd on it.”
Despite her frustration, Megan broke into a smile at the old joke. She gave Loomis a kiss, as did Delia.
“Let’s get a move on! Daylight’s wasting!”
Standing, Loomis turned to wave at Gwen inside her homestead’s wagon. “Patience, woman.” Gwen snorted, and Loomis laughed. She gave Emerita and Lucky a quick hug, chucking Franklin’s chin as she went to the wagon and climbed inside.
Purposely shoving Gwen aside with her hip, she took the reins. “Let’s get a move on.” She ignored the pinch Gwen gave her, not giving her the satisfaction as she clucked at Tempest and led the way off the property. It didn’t matter, Gwen still giggled.
It had taken the township two full days to clear the mountain road. Today they would meet several homesteads at the general store for the first excursion into Cascade. Scouts had been sent ahead to confirm the road was clear all the way to their destination and that the town was deserted. The last scout had returned to Lindsay Crossing four nights ago. Barring any mechanical difficulties, injuries or another landslide occurring to block their path, the convoy would make their destination in roughly six hours. The plan was to spend at least three days there, cataloguing and loading before the return trip.
Gwen laughed and pointed. Loomis literally caught the tail end of a deer dashing into undergrowth on the side of the road. She smiled at Gwen’s delight. Things had gotten so much better between them. Loomis still had nightmares, but they’d lessened in intensity and frequency, sometimes allowing her three nights in a row without one. When one did occur, Gwen was there to wake her before it became too fierce, to hold her as she cried, and talk if she wanted. Past the initial demand for knowledge, Gwen no longer insisted Loomis speak at all. She had become a gentle but strong presence, allowing Loomis a sounding board and a shoulder without judgment.
They played variations on the game, “No Hands,” nearly every night too. The anxiety attacks still overcame Loomis, but she was able to enjoy Gwen’s touch for longer periods of time. Neither of them thought she’d move past the panic any time soon. For now it was enough to know that the possibility existed.
Loomis still had other doubts, and they popped up at the most inopportune times. Doubts had made Loomis self-conscious at the last logistics meeting in town. How much of Gwen’s feelings for her were still rooted in power-hunger? Had she really moved past it, or was it a sham to ease Loomis’s mind? Under the keen eye of Weasel it seemed impossible for Gwen to feel anything for her; she was broken, flawed, not even strong enough to take an official role on the town council. Once home, however, Gwen’s proximity drowned out Weasel’s knowing gaze. Gwen put too much work into easing Loomis’s emotional hurts for her to be a gold digger. Didn’t she?
As the general store parking lot came into view, Loomis raised her eyebrows. “Looks like the whole town came out.”
Gwen shaded her eyes to look at the multitude of horses, oxen, wagons and people milling about. “Are they all going?”
“Nope, not unless Dwayne made some changes since our last meeting. We can only muster so many wagons and the animals to pull them. It’ll take us three times as long to get there with people on foot.” Loomis guided the cart into the lot, pulling up at the corner near the edge of the crossroad, leaving room for Cara to park behind her. With nothing to hitch Tempest to, she handed the reins to Gwen. “Stay here, okay?”
“Sure.”
Loomis climbed out of the wagon, spotting Walker and his people up at the store entrance. Tommy Boy dismounted and joined her as they made their way through the press of people. It looked like everybody in the entire town was here to see off the expedition. To be expected, she guessed. This was a pretty big deal in Lindsay Crossing’s history. No one had been south of the pass since Orphan Maker had ravaged the community. People moved aside as she neared, most greeting her and some nodding politely to Tommy Boy as they passed. She stepped over the curb and onto the concrete slab of the storefront, taking her hat off. Susan Ashton stood nearby with a clipboard. “Loomis household is here.”
“And the Garcia homestead,” Tommy Boy stated with some pride. His family had chosen Emerita’s last name to represent their stake. It turned out that Tommy Boy’s last name was Anderson, and there was already a large population of Andersons in the valley.
“Oh, good.” Susan ticked something off her board. “We’re only waiting
for the Fabers then.”
“When we passed their place, they were just getting ready to go,” Tommy Boy volunteered.
“Are all these people going, too?” Loomis asked.
Before Susan could respond, Walker broke into the conversation. “Naw. Most are just here to see everybody off.” He gave Tommy Boy a calculating look then turned to whisper something to James Kipfer. Kipfer nodded, and walked away.
Loomis saw Tommy Boy frown in suspicion, knowing she held a matching expression. While they hadn’t become fast friends during his stay at her homestead, they at least had come to an understanding. He was a prickly man who enjoyed his solitude, and it had become taxing upon occasion for him to live cheek by jowl with a dozen others. Considering how he and his family had been treated while living with the Hansens, she knew he had good cause for being mistrustful. She needed to smooth his ruffled feathers before his brash, independent nature reared its head. “What’s up?” She jerked her chin in Kipfer’s direction.
“Figured your boy would want his weapons back.” Walker, oblivious to Tommy Boy’s bristle at his phrasing, smiled. “You’re a contributing member to this community; you need to have something on hand for defense.” He blinked at the glare he received from the former Gato, unaware of his racist error.
Praying Tommy Boy would keep his temper, Loomis placed her hand on his rock-hard bicep. “Thanks. That’ll ease our mind. Won’t it, Tommy?”
Tommy Boy ground his teeth, but visibly controlled himself. “It will, yeah.”
Loomis breathed a sigh of relief. It looked like she’d need to take Walker aside sometime this week, teach him how the Gatos saw things. Actually, she was surprised he hadn’t been spoken to already. Weasel and Kipfer approached, each holding the ugly assault weapons the Gatos had arrived with in Lindsay Crossing. It was her turn to stiffen as Weasel arrived at Walker’s side. She watched as he handed over a submachine gun to Tommy Boy. Kipfer held out a semiautomatic pistol. She watched Tommy Boy expertly check both weapons and clips, tucking the pistol into the back of his pants. Good Lord, I hope the safety’s on.
“Any extra ammo?” Tommy Boy smiled as he opened a small bag Kipfer gave him. “Diesel.” He scooped out six magazines of two sizes, pocketing them.
“You arming everybody?”
Walker shook his head. “No, only those coming with us; maybe half of the soldiers.”
Soldiers. Loomis felt her lip curl at the term. There was a word to stomp out of existence. These newcomers needed to be integrated fully into their community. Calling them “soldiers” was a misnomer, since their commander in chief wasn’t the mayor. Besides, soldiers needed a war, right? She caught Weasel staring at her, his smile unpleasant, and she ignored him.
Someone shouted out by the road, and Loomis turned to see the Faber wagon coming into view. Walker clapped his hands together. “Excellent! Susan, let’s get everybody lined up and out of here.”
Loomis ran a hand through her hair before settling her hat back on her head. She gave Walker and his people a nod of acknowledgment and walked away from them. She glanced back once to see Weasel had pulled Tommy Boy aside, but didn’t stop to wait. He was probably digging for information about Gwen. By the time she made it back to the Loomis wagons, her good mood had faltered. She stopped at Cara’s wagon. “Fabers just got here, so we’ll be moving out soon. Let’s pull out onto the road and get in line.” Cara nodded, and snapped the reins as she clicked her tongue at the plow horse. The boys whooped as the cart started with a jerk. Regardless of the sour taste in her mouth, Loomis chuckled at their excitement as she walked, stopping to untie Starkey’s reins from her cart. “Can you drive this thing?”
Gwen’s eyes widened. “Um…yeah?”
“Excellent. Pull along behind Cara while I walk Starkey out.”
“Where’s T?” Gwen looked out over the mass of people and animals to the store.
Loomis shrugged, wondering if she was pulling off the nonchalance look. “Talking to Weasel. He’ll be here in a minute.”
Gwen scowled, her gaze intensifying as she tried to pick out the two men in the cluster of people.
Thumping the side of the wagon, Loomis brought Gwen back to the present. “Come on. Time’s a wasting, right? I don’t want to be on the tail end of this convoy if I can help it.”
Her attention back on task, Gwen nodded. Suddenly nervous, she swallowed, and stared at Tempest in hesitation. Bracing herself with a deep breath, she flicked the reins, almost falling when the cart jolted into movement. Loomis grinned, watching Gwen carefully direct Tempest out onto the road.
“Hey.”
She turned toward an approaching Tommy Boy, and handed him the reins. “Everything okay?”
Tommy Boy looked slightly surlier than before, but not overly outraged. “Yeah. It ain’t nothin’.”
Loomis glanced back at the general store, noting the mass exodus of vehicles and animals out onto the street. Pressing Tommy Boy wouldn’t get her anything. He was a taciturn, stubborn man by nature. If she tried to pry into what Weasel had said to rile him, Tommy Boy would button up even more. Kind of like herself. “Let’s go, then.” She walked out to the road as he mounted Starkey, making polite chitchat with the gathered well-wishers.
Her homestead hadn’t made it to the front of the convoy, but they held a decent place at sixth and seventh back from the lead wagon. Loomis climbed into Gwen’s cart, taking over the reins. Up ahead she saw Walker in the forefront with the McKay wagon. Both he and Weasel were there, scanning the line of carts with binoculars. At least Walker looked like he was studying the convoy; Weasel appeared to be watching Loomis and Gwen. Loomis scowled directly at him, her message interrupted by Gwen draping an arm around her waist and nudging her for attention. Distracted, Loomis turned and was caught by a light kiss. A few folks nearby exclaimed and whistled, and Loomis blushed, smiling.
The order was given down the line to get started, and they began the slow trek toward Cascade. Townies and Gatos being left behind yelled out their best wishes, cheering the expedition as it left town. Only after they were on the road did Loomis remember Gwen’s calculated expression after kissing her. She’d been sending a message to Weasel with that kiss, broadcasting their relationship to him. Loomis’s spirits faltered as she considered whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.
Chapter Thirty
Sitting on the side of a mountain lake, Cascade brooded silently as the wagons approached. Gwen vaguely recollected coming through, but it hadn’t stuck out as any more special than the other small towns she and the Gatos had staggered through in their hope of survival, assuming they had all been looted. Now she studied it more closely.
Twice the size of McAdam, it was laid out before her as they descended onto the main stretch. That boded well, since that meant twice as many goods for the resource-strapped community. As they pulled into the downtown area, she noted multiple interesting stores and businesses that could yield lots of supplies. One storefront was trashed, evidence of looting from years ago during the lawless phase of the plague. Dusty broken glass, empty store shelves, debris from five years of being open to the elements. The road was cracked and pitted, weeds sprouting from every fissure and adding to the damage. As noted by Weasel’s crew and the Lindsay Crossing scouts, there was no evidence anyone lived here. The devastation rang with a loneliness Gwen hadn’t noticed before. She leaned against Loomis, drawing comfort from the strong presence as she studied the passing buildings. Maybe having lived with a group of pure people had rubbed off on her. This place was no less desolate than the majority of the city had been, but it hadn’t bothered her like this before.
She came out of her introspection as the convoy pulled into a park near the town center. Kipfer sat astride a horse in the center of the park, calling out instructions. Within a few minutes, all the carts were parked in a somewhat organized manner, and Loomis hopped out of the wagon. She held out her hands for the reins and Gwen handed them over, escaping from the cart.
Loomis tied Tempest off to a convenient bicycle rack. “Come on.” She took Gwen’s hand. “Keep close!” she yelled to the boys. Tommy Boy and Cara joined them, and they walked to the center of the park where the others gathered.
When everyone was assembled, Walker held up his hands and called for their attention. “All right! We have several hours of daylight left, so the first thing we want to do is a general inventory.” He gestured to Ashton who produced a handful of maps. “I had the scouts pick these up when they came here. There are, what? Thirty-five homesteads here?”
“Thirty-six,” Loomis called, not letting Tommy Boy’s family fall by the wayside.
Walker nodded. “Thirty-six. I want a team from each one to come up here and get a map. We’ve marked out the blocks to get us started, and have notebooks for each of you. Two people on each team, minimum. No one goes alone.”
Gwen frowned, wondering how they’d split up their teams. She wanted to stay with Loomis, but couldn’t let Tommy Boy go solo. Cara would probably want to stay behind and set up camp.
“Everyone gets back here at sunset and checks in. No gathering right now; we’re just getting a general idea what’s available. Got it?” He waited for the general murmur of the crowd. “Okay. Come on up for your notebooks and maps.”
Several people, including Loomis and Tommy Boy, shuffled forward to retrieve their supplies. Gwen waited for them to return, ignoring the pointed glares coming her way from Weasel. What was it with him? When the hell would he get a clue? Loomis’s return pushed the thought from her mind. She and Tommy Boy had opened their maps, and Gwen peered over their shoulders.
“Looks like we’ve got adjacent blocks.” Loomis pointed to the black square that encompassed a two-block radius.
Tommy Boy grunted. “Yep.” He waggled the battered notebook in his hand. “I ain’t much of a writer, though.”
Orphan Maker Page 24
