by lake, e a
Like the uncouth young man he was, Kirby lowered his sweatpants and urinated amongst the group, causing the remaining four to hastily turn away and step back. “Sure bitch, whatever. Why don’t you just have your husband come and kill me now? Save nature the time and trouble of taking me.” Finishing, he pulled his pants above his waist, staring bitterly at Cara.
“Please, Kirby,” she said in a whisper, “just this once show a little pride in yourself. Please.” The group left him alone to ponder his future. The last anyone heard from him, he slammed the door loudly enough to echo throughout the camp.
Well after the noon dishes had been dried and put away, Cara stood alone by the only window in her small cabin. Her eyes still focused on the front gate, as they had been since returning from her confrontation with Kirby. Finally, summoning her deep inner strength, she called back to her family.
“Joshua, I’m going with Mr. Dillion to deal with something. Please watch Rose until I return.”
Making his way from one of the two back rooms, the young man smiled at his mother. “Okay, Ma. Rosie’s sleeping right now anyway. I was reading her a story, and next thing ya’ knew, there she was asleep.” Cara walked over and hugged her son, now a good six inches taller than his mother.
“Thank you, Joshua.” A quick peck on his cheek was just as quickly wiped away by the embarrassed 15-year-old teenager. “If Poppa comes back from cutting wood before me, tell him where I am.” Joshua nodded and went back to his room.
Cara knocked softly on the doorway of the Dillion’s home. Dave answered and stepped into the warm afternoon sun. “You seen him leave yet?” Cara’s sad expression said it all. “Yeah, me neither. Steven back yet?” A quick head toss was the only answer she cared to give. A quizzical expression flashed on Dave’s face. “Everything okay?”
Crossing her arms, Cara stepped away from the doorway so she could see the front gate again. “I just want this over with. I don’t like unnecessary confrontation. That’s all.”
Dave nodded in agreement. “I know, not an easy task. But I thought you did a fine job of explaining this morning.” Their eyes met briefly. “Let me grab my hat, and we can run over there. Maybe he snuck out one of the side gates.”
With Dave inside, Cara stared back at her own home. “I certainly hope so,” she whispered as he reappeared.
Two cabins back, they stood at the front door of Kirby’s, again. Dave knocked, again. And as before, no one answered. Dave knocked only once more before opening the door and stepping inside. Cara watched as he disappeared, calling out for the young man. After a brief search, Dave reappeared.
“He’s still in there, isn’t he?” Cara asked. Dave nodded. Shaking her head and exhaling audibly, she turned back to her friend. “Will you run out where they’re cutting today and tell Steven what’s going on? I feel we need his help.”
She watched as Dave’s eyebrows rose, and he tilted his head slightly to the left. “We ain’t going to need Steven to get him out of there, Cara. He’s dead. Kirby hung himself.”
Cara gasped as her hands shot to her face. She wanted to cry, wanted to mourn the loss, but Kirby had never grown on her.
“I’ll go get Parker,” Dave called back as he left the cabin for mid-camp. “At least one good thing happened today. We got an open cabin in case anyone comes along now.”
Cara watched as he hustled to grab his friend for the task. Turning slowly, she started back for her own home. “I suppose that’s true,” she said to no one in particular. “At least we don’t have to forcibly remove the poor boy, I guess.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
She heard him before she saw him. The familiar sound of boots kicked against the side of their cabin, pounding mud off his soles. Jumping from her chair, Cara raced to the stove to give dinner one more stir.
“Joshua, Rose!” she called out. “Get ready for supper.” From the far back room, Joshua rushed forward, cradling his little sister upside down in his arms. Cara shook her head at the sight. “Really, Joshua.” A small muffled laugh escaped her forced parental expression. “Put your sister down, please.”
Depositing the four-year-old redhead on the couch in the corner, he took his place at the table. Turning as he heard the door open, the teen smiled. “Poppa,” he called out, “how was wood cutting?”
Winking at Cara’s eldest, Steven Wake leaned against the doorjamb. “I sawed a lot out there today, boy. I sawed a lot of things you see,” he called out in his deep baritone voice. Smiling, he spotted Rose in the corner.
“Daddy,” she screamed and ran to tackle the legs of her father. “Why didn’t you wake me before you left this morning?” She placed her hands on her hips, pouting at her father.
Steven picked her up, giving her a quick kiss on her forehead. “It was early, sweetheart. And you were sleeping so soundly next to Momma, I didn’t have the heart to wake you.” He placed her in a chair at the small wooden table in the center of the great room and snuck a peek at Cara.
“Hello, my love,” he said, kissing her cheek as he crossed the room to hang his coat on the far wall. “I heard you had quite a day here in camp.” Word always made its way at breakneck speed out to all residents, wherever they may be spending their day. Given the weight of this news, today was no exception. “Never thought much of that boy.” He nodded. “Now I won’t have to think of him ever again.”
Cara turned only her head and flashed Steven a brief pained smile. “Let’s not discuss that with Rose in the room…please.” He smiled at the miniature version of his wife before looking back to her.
“Sure,” he replied, quietly.
“You didn’t come to bed last night. Your side was never touched.” Cara stared at the man towering over her. She reached up, pushing his long gray hair away from his face.
“Fire kept going out,” he replied. “Don’t know what was wrong, but it wouldn’t burn low at all. It just kept going out, that’s all.”
Her stare intensified as she studied his eyes seeking only the truth. “Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?” He shook off her question in quick time. “I mean, I know this is a bad time of year for you. When your son died. I understand if you’re feeling low.” Her voice lowered, matching his mood. “You can talk to me about it you know.”
Steven reached his long arms around her thin frame. “My dear,” he smiled down at her, “it was simply the fire. As for Kellen, that was almost 10 years ago now. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought of him this past week. But that’s all. My memories are only happy as far as he is concerned.”
Cara lowered her gaze, burying her head into her husband’s embrace. “That’s good. I just want you to know I care about your feelings.” She wiped away a tear with the shoulder of her shirt.
“Let’s eat,” he whispered. “We can talk about this and Kirby later. I’m hungry.”
Grabbing the stew from the stove, Cara used both hands to lug the heavy cast iron kettle to the table. “Did you have lunch? I saw you took three muffins for breakfast.”
Steven leaned forward on his elbows, rubbing his hands gently together. “Grace brought us out a loaf of bread and some type of squirrel soup.” He laughed as Rose’s tiny face screwed up hearing of varmint meal. “It wasn’t much, but it beat nothing.”
Joshua reached across the table, grabbing the loaf of two-day-old flatbread, and began tearing off a hunk. “Poppa, how old do you have to be to join the cutting crew?”
Cara lowered in her chair next to her son and slapped at his hands. “I will cut that. You always tear pieces so uneven.” Turning her sour expression to a nice smile, she looked back at her husband. “As for age, 14 according to the rules. But…” She turned back to the boy. “…sixteen for you.” He went to complain, but she cut him off with a new smile. “Because I said so. And because Poppa runs the crew. That’s why.”
Pouting, he dug into his stew. “I’m the only fifteen-year-old who hasn’t felled a tree yet, Momma. Kinda embarrassing you know.”
Cara
nodded at her husband. “And yet comforting to this mother.”
“Daddy?” Rose asked, playing with her stew. “Did you hear that Mr. Atkins hanged himself?” She looked up as Cara handed her a small slice of buttered bread. ”Do you know who hanged him?” Joshua laughed, almost spitting out a mouthful of stew.
“No one did, sweetheart,” Steven answered. “He was upset with himself. That’s all. No more talk now, eat.” The family quietly continued their evening meal until all of the food was gone.
As they sat quietly on the couch, Cara leaned into her husband. Sensing her need for a loving touch, he wrapped his left arm around her. “They do any harvesting today?” he asked.
Lost in a thought, Cara looked up at his gray beard. “No, not with all the other excitement. Tomorrow.” She lowered herself to a prone position, resting her head on his lap. Lovingly, he stroked her long red hair.
“Well, I don’t think it will freeze this week, but you’ll want to get them at that soon.” Noticing her closed eyes, he stopped the stroking.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “I like that, when you comb my hair with your fingers.” He started up again and she smiled, eyes still closed. “How much more wood needs to be cut for winter?”
Steven sighed. “Probably another week. If we had chainsaws, like in the old days, we’d been done in no time. But six men, with axes and saws – it takes a while.” He paused, reflecting on a thought. “If we had Joshua’s help, it might go a little faster.” He watched as Cara’s brow lowered.
“He’s so young still, Steven. And I can’t stand the thought of anything happening to him.” Sitting up, she took his hands in hers. “Let me think about it for a day or two. Maybe now’s a good time for him to start with you.”
“You know, I’d never let nothing happen to him,” he added
The corners of her mouth rose slightly. “I know; I trust you. I always have.” Pausing, she drew in a deeper breath. “You know I love you.” She studied his face as he contemplated her words.
“I know,” he answered softly. “It’s just, well, difficult at times.” He turned to face her directly. “I mean, I’m so much older than you.”
She shook off his concerns. “That doesn’t matter. Whether you’re a year older or 21 years older. I love you no matter your age.” He looked away, unconvinced.
Carefully, she pinched his chin to bring his eyes back to hers. “When my husband died, and no one would help me even bury him, you were there. When I became concerned for the safety of my two boys, you brought me here. When Jacob died, you were there. And together, we have Rose. When no one else gave a scared single mother a look, you showed me so much love. When I thought my life was over – twice – you helped me survive. When I couldn’t even care for myself, you cared for all of us.” She shared a soft kiss with her man and smiled. “I don’t care that you’re 58 and I’m 37, Steven. I don’t care that your hair is gray and mine is still mostly red. I don’t care what anyone else thinks or says. You’re the man I will spend the rest of my days with. And I’m very happy to be your wife.”
His face tensed. “Even though–”
“No matter what,” she finished. “Now let’s go to bed.”
CHAPTER NINE
Watching the last of yesterday’s rain disappear, Willem squinted at the morning’s sunshine. Day two of his reign dawned with hopes of squashing his adversaries further. This day would be as memorable as the previous. And if more blood was shed, so be it. That was an added bonus to the victory.
“Howard,” he called out.
Entering the spacious office, Howard stood at attention behind Willem. “Yes?”
Tarlisch turned, smiling slightly at his long-time friend. He motioned for him to take a seat as he did the same in the former mayor’s oversized black leather chair. Staring at Howard, Willem’s face tensed into a more serious pose. “Update me on the status of Talbot Bond. Any news?”
Howard looked away briefly. “As best as we can tell, he left about two months ago. But not with the militia. He didn’t go north.” Sitting back and crossing his legs, he continued. “According to the notes in his file, he went east into the Rockies. Apparently headed for the safety and solitude of one of the camps up there. One of 12, unfortunately.” His face showed the displeasure that anyone would feel about searching 12 camps for one single man.
Tarlisch smiled. “That’s not a problem, Howard. Find his daughter and she will lead us right to him. Sarabeth is the key to finding him.”
Howard’s face contorted as he pondered Willem’s last words. “You need to be careful around the gang, Willem. Sometimes you call her Betsi, now you’re saying Sarabeth. People are going to wonder just who exactly we’re looking for.”
Tarlisch rubbed his chin, chuckling. “Her full name is Sarabeth Grace Tarlisch Bond. She goes by Betsi mostly. I’m not even sure she was registered under her real name, was she?”
“Betsi Albrecht,” Howard added.
Tarlisch nodded sideways. “So, whatever the name is unimportant. Finding her is the key. Any word from the roadblocks?”
Howard rocked back in his chair, causing the wood to creak. Sitting forward again, he focused on Willem’s face. “No. No one by that name at all. Or her birthdate from the files. Or her husband – Jonathan or James or whatever his name is.”
Will leaned forward, elbows resting on the desk. “Jeremy…you idiot.” Shaking his head, he stared at the ceiling. “How can I trust you to get anything done if you can’t remember one simple name?” He shot a condescending glance his direction, like a father chastising a child.
Howard let out a quick snort. “One name? Really? You know how many people you got me looking for? Don’t give me that crap.” His voice rose more than intended, mostly from a lack of sleep, Willem supposed. “No matter what, the people on the lines know what they’re looking for. Tall thin gal with long dark hair. And a mate with reddish curly hair. Both about 36 or 37.”
Tarlisch grinned. “That’s my boy, Howard. You know just how to keep me happy.” Rising quickly, Howard followed his lead. “Now let’s go grab some chow before we’re off to visit the Kanes. Troops ready?” He snuck a peek at Howard’s face, a broad grin growing by the second.
“Oh yeah, 100 people all ready for a fight. Or at least a chance to get even with those people who stuck us in the desert.”
“Good,” Willem said, slapping his back. “Let’s just hope they see the light and give us what we want.” An evil grin crossed his face as he tipped his head sideways one last time. “Of course, if we have to crack a few heads to convince them…” He winked, as he and his friend left for the chow hall.
Sitting against the back of an old brown couch, Betsi watched the rain give in to the new day. Sunshine would return for another day, and maybe – just maybe – no rain would fall for the foreseeable future.
The previous day had been a disaster, Betsi recalled. After getting a later start on their hike than expected, they were cut off by Tarlisch’s goons from the south exit. Then they were corralled toward one of four exit points as dictated by the ruffians. Their nightmare continued as a large group of people were all but strip-searched by a group of armed Red Rangers. Only then did Betsi see the fatal flaw in her plan.
Sounds of faint snores caused her to peek at the couch behind her. Jeremy laid on his back getting the last 10 minutes of sleep she planned on allowing. He hadn’t been much help. He never even saw what was going on at the checkpoints. And whoever heard of checkpoints to leave a city?
Only after they had stood in line for two hours did Betsi watch in horror as female after female was asked to move her headwear. Anyone with more than shoulder length dark hair was told to step aside for further questioning. Pounding her fist against her forehead again this morning, she fought back her self-loathing.
They needed a makeover, and that wasn’t the only problem. Both needed new names and birth dates. She and her husband were just lucky the rain started when it did. The sudden downpour sent pe
ople scurrying for whatever cover they could find. The warm rain allowed the pair to sneak back into the city and duck into the first abandoned house they found.
Betsi couldn’t wait any longer. She’d been awake since before 6 o’clock and it was now pushing eight.
“Jeremy,” she pushed his shoulder as she called him name. “Come on, we need to get moving again. The rain’s gone; get up and eat something quick.”
Shaking the sleep from his head, he stared around the strange home. Finally, refocusing his attention, he grinned. “Oh, right. We ducked in here last night.” He sat up slowly and searched the room for anything familiar. Spotting a face he knew, his eyes shot open.
“Betsi,” he shrieked, “what the hell did you do to yourself?” His mouth hung open as he finished.
She shot a quick grin his direction. Fluffing her hair with both hands, she spun so he could take in the whole change. “Like it?”
“Um, sure.” His head bobbed from side to side as he tried to hide the look of disbelief his face gave away. “Blonde. That’s different.”
She shrugged and turned for the small kitchen.
“And you cut it all off? Um, why?” he called as she disappeared from view.
“I just cut it off to the back of my neck. Almost like what they used to call a bob cut,” she called from the other room. Coming back with two bottles of water, she tossed one his way. “Yeah, I wanted a completely different color. So I went blonde. They were stopping all dark-haired women yesterday.” She focused on his face to be sure he understood. There was more, but she wanted to spoon-feed it to him as slowly as she could.
