WWIV - Basin of Secrets

by lake, e a

  “So, those are my feelings on the subject.” Cara took her seat next to Emily Bradley and noticed her expression of agreement.

  Reaching out, Emily patted Cara’s hands. “Well stated, Cara. I couldn’t agree more.” Searching the other faces, they felt outnumbered.

  “Chet,” Cara politely asked. “How about you?”

  Rocking in his seat, the old man pursed his lips and let his breath out slowly, hissing like a balloon losing air. Finally, his face met the others. “Cara, you are the voice of wisdom,” he began. “And what you say makes some sense.” His wrinkled face hid whatever news he cared to share. “But…” he trailed.

  Cara’s heart fell hearing the single word.

  “…we can’t go off half-cocked anymore. We don’t have the resources like we used to.”

  “But Chet,” Cara protested. “Mr. and Mrs. Hanson have brought us dire news from Salt Lake. I don’t believe we can just toss it aside without some debate.”

  His old dry hands rubbed together in front of his face, creating a sound like that of rubbing sandpaper together. “Let’s consider a few former problems, if we will. Four years ago, a group of folks brought us news of all Salt Lake being engulfed in fire. That turned out to be false, of course.”

  “They were frightened, Chet. They saw smoke from a forest fire and couldn’t see the basin. It really wasn’t a problem.” Cara scanned each face around the room, confirming what she already knew. Three to two still.

  “Then,” Chet chuckled as he recalled another time, “then there was the news that the entire basin was swallowed in a sinkhole. I think almost every camp, including ours, feared for our safety then.” He let his sad eyes settle on Cara. “False rumors, of course.”

  “And then last year,” Charlie Watson jumped in as Chet took his seat, “we got taken by that group that told us indians were attacking. They told us several bands from the east had joined and were reclaiming their sacred ground. We spent weeks on edge waiting for an attack that never came, Cara. We looked pretty foolish then.”

  “Foolish,” Cara agreed, “but prepared. It’s hard enough to survive out here on our own. When news of trouble reaches us, well, it adds extra unneeded stress.” Cara firmed her resolve and made another run to sway just one more member.

  “Carol, you must have some idea that there could be a problem coming at us from Salt Lake. Don’t you?” Cara begged.

  Her tired face drooped before she had the strength to gaze back at her waiting friend. “Cara, I want to believe these people. But they didn’t see anything. They didn’t hear anything. They just left because of something the neighbors may have blown out of proportion.” Cara looked away, but Carol dipped her head to catch their leader’s eyes again. “We are so busy getting ready for harvest. And then we’ll be busy drying, and bagging, and storing. We just can’t dedicate any more resources to go find out what might have not happened down there. I would imagine we’ll see more people in the next day or two if something bad went on.” Smiling thinly, she looked at Chet and Charlie. “Until then, I agree with the majority. We wait it out.”

  “Three to two against sending men to Salt Lake,” Cara plainly stated. “That is the decision of the assembly?” Three heads nodded; she felt Emily squeeze her hand again. “So be it then. We have decided.” Rising, she nodded curtly at the group. “Thank you all for your time.”

  Saving her frustration for her alone time, Cara hustled back to her home. She needed to have Steven hear her thoughts. Perhaps he would be able to sway one of the three. Halfway there, she froze misstep. Steven will say the assembly has spoken, she thought. No further discussion.

  Changing her direction, she focused on the drying racks being let down from the sides of the camp walls. She may as well not waste her time spouting her frustrations to a man that wouldn’t agree, she thought. “I’ll put a smile on my face and move forward with the day,” she resolved to herself out loud. But as she hustled away, she doubted she’d let go of being on the losing side of the debate so easily.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Howard steered the horses around another corner and shot a peek at his companion on the buckboard. Willem was distant, lost in thought. Clearing his throat, he addressed his boss.

  “So what’s your plans for those wives of yours anyway? Get them knocked up at the same time or one after another?” he asked.

  Tarlisch blanched at his words. “Don’t be so crude, Howard. Those are my women you are speaking of,” he retorted. Glancing at the buildings in the area, Willem leaned back. “Two are too young. Maybe Andy can have his way with them. It’s about the only way he’ll ever have a woman.” Both men chuckled.

  Howard shook the reins, spurring the team forward. “So just the older one?” He watched as Willem contemplated his question.

  “My heart belongs to another. You of all people know that best, Howard.” Leaning forward he grinned at his old friend. “Suzanne is certainly beautiful enough for me, but that’s not why I took any of them. I wanted to make a point. I needed to have everyone in this community understand that I, and I alone, am in charge here.” He shrugged at Howard. “What better way to get that point across than to take from them one of their most precious commodities?”

  Contemplating Willem’s words, Howard nodded ahead. “Here’s the first warehouse. And I see that young Anderson fellow is waiting for us; just as you requested.” Howard focused his attention on the thin, short teen awaiting their arrival. As they drew near, he thought, “Who left this one in charge?”

  Inside the faded red brick building, the skylights illuminated the large expanse. The three men strolled amidst large blue barrels the color of the afternoon sky. Kicking at one, Willem looked back at young George Anderson.

  “It’s empty,” he stated, sounding as bored as he could. “I’m here to inspect a bunch of empty barrels. Just great.”

  George ran back to the third row of containers. Kicking at that one, Willem heard the sound of a dull thud, not the hollow sound the other had just made.

  “This one’s full,” George called. “About a third of them are still full.”

  Willem’s eyes scanned the barrels. “Ten rows of 30. Three hundred in total. Maybe 100 are full.” Stepping closer, he watched as George cowered away. “But full of what, young man?”

  George grinned. “Why, water of course. What else did you expect to find here?”

  Willem gasped. “You have a warehouse with 300 drums of water?” He watched as young Anderson grinned.

  “No,” he replied. “We have five warehouses around the community with 300 each. You know, there’s a lot of people needing water around Salt Lake.”

  Folding his hands in front of his face, Willem pressed his lips to his thumbs. “We went without water for days and weeks in the desert. Meanwhile, you’re sitting on as much as 80,000 gallons of water.” He snuck a peek at Howard’s puzzled face. “That seems impossible.”

  George was more than willing to provide the details. Every time it rained, they collected water. Every time it snowed, they collected water. When they were bored, they sent teams of horse-drawn wagons to collect water from mountain streams. Salt Lake, it seemed, had plenty of water.

  “Every day, every family is allowed two gallons of fresh water,” George continued. “They go to one of the five stations. A checkmark gets placed next to their name. There’s 2,600 family units, so every day we disperse 5,200 gallons of water. Except to these 10 families.” George handed a list to Willem. He and Howard studied it carefully.

  “Kane, Cormat, Williamson, Erickson, Brushbrow…” Willem looked up. “The founding families and all the council members.” George nodded. “So, just how do they get water?”

  George grinned broadly. “Every week, on Sunday night, a covered wagon takes each of the families a fresh 55-gallon drum.” Tarlisch and Howard stared at one another, open-mouthed and amazed.

  “The others are limited to two gallons a day,” Howard repeated. “But these 10 families get an unlim
ited supply?”

  George chuckled. “Yep, that’s the way it’s always been. For the past four years at least.” He stepped closer to his guests. “And when it rains or snows, no one gets their two gallon allotment. They’re all expected to collect for themselves during those times. We have about 100,000 gallons of clean water at the best of times. That covers about a month for the community. So we spend a lot of time running to the foothills collecting the stuff. Keeps us busy, I guess.”

  Willem strolled toward the back of the large open space, followed by the others. Pointing toward the back, he called out for George. “What are all those empty shelves for back there?”

  “Food storage,” George replied. “We keep a lot of our dried foods here. Nice and cool and dry year-round. So they keep better.”

  Willem stopped and looked back at the pair. “Where’s all the food now?”

  “Well,” George began while picking something from his teeth, “almost harvest time. There’ll be plenty starting fairly soon. People are mostly eating out of their gardens right now. Except the 10 on the list, of course.”

  Willem stared at Howard, nodding slowly. “Of course. We don’t expect the 10 to fend for themselves.”

  From the far end of the building, the sound of shuffling feet against the cool concrete echoed. The group turned to see a single person running their direction.

  Finally, a voice called out. “Willem,” Andy yelled. He stopped next to the three, hands on knees gasping for air.

  Willem stepped closer. “Andy? What’s the rush?”

  Looking up, Andy sucked in one last large gulp of air. “There’s a crowd forming outside,” he got out between pants. “Kinda big. Thought you’d want to know.”

  Willem’s gaze fell back on George. “Any ideas?”

  Glancing at his watch, George nodded. “Almost 10. Time for water dispersal.”

  Grinning, Willem started for the large doors in the front of the building. “Perhaps we can help, to show our support you know,” he said to Howard. A quick peek at Howard’s harsh expression told him his second didn’t like the plan.

  “Could be a lot of people. Too many for us to control…if they get upset.” As Howard finished, he glanced at the collection of humanity outside. “Looks like 50 or 60, I suppose.” Turning to Willem he lowered his voice. “I suggest we go out the back, safer that way.”

  “I don’t think so,” Willem snorted. “Andy, where’s the guard?”

  “About two blocks to the north,” the younger cousin replied. “There’s about a dozen or so of us.”

  Willem scratched at his chin. “Bring them up behind the crowd, nice and slow though. We don’t want to alarm anyone needlessly.”

  His eyes focused on the nervous George Anderson. “Time to go meet the people,” Willem whispered.

  George swallowed noticeably, unsure of the tactic. Pushing the door open, he nodded back to Willem. “Okay, you’re the boss.”

  The crowd of citizens eyed the trio suspiciously. As they moved closer to the warehouse entrance, someone from the middle of the crowd bravely pushed his way forward.

  “Who the heck are those two, Anderson?” he called out. “And what are they here for?”

  Before George could answer, another man standing close to the front narrowed his gaze on Willem. “That’s Will Tarlisch. That’s who that is.” Looking around for support, the man stepped closer. “What do you have to say for yourself, Tarlisch?” he asked, focused now on Willem.

  Willem studied the two men carefully. Their posture was that of attack, not discussion. One had a large knife strapped to his side in a sheath. Glancing over the top of the crowd, he saw Andy and a dozen armed men and women sneaking through the mass, spreading out. Finally, he raised his hand to speak.

  “Good morning, people,” he called out in a loud voice. No one bothered responding. “It’s nice to see you all. Gives me a chance to fill you in on some important facts we have discovered recently.”

  The man with the knife moved closer, hand on its dark mahogany handle. Willem glared at the threat, unhappy. Seeing Andy and another large soldier behind the two speakers, he relaxed. Beside him, he heard Howard’s labored breathing.

  “It seems,” Willem began, “that your previous leadership wasn’t as forthcoming as they might have been.” The man unsnapped the knife clip Willem noticed. Fortunately, he saw that Andy observed this action. Staring defiantly into the man’s eyes, Willem continued.

  “I did you a favor, friend. I relieved you of the most corrupt government in the west.” Willem’s dark eyes narrowed, speaking only to the one now. “Perhaps you can show a little gratitude.”

  Pulling the knife from its sheath, the man lunged forward. “Rot in hell, Tarlisch,” he shouted. Others in the crowd moved back, shocked. Andy and his enforcer grabbed the assailant well before any damage could come to their leader.

  Leering face to face with his attacker, Tarlisch whispered to the man. “That was the stupidest thing you could have ever done, friend. Now, I have to make an example of you.”

  The man stared through Willem, unmoved by his words. Quickly, he cleared his throat and spit on him.

  Tarlisch met him with an evil grin. “So I was wrong it seems; your stupidity just topped itself.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Andy and his soldier brought the man forward to face the crowd. Willem watched as the mass slid back, trying to sneak away, their retreat halted by Tarlisch’s remaining armed troops.

  Sighing, Willem glared at the group like a disappointed parent. “People, what have I done to be treated so poorly?”

  “You killed our friends, you bastard,” a brave soul called out from the rear of the crowd. As his guards moved in to apprehend the dissenter, Willem shook them off with a frown.

  “Yes,” he started. “I did away with the corrupt few. I admit that. But it was for your own good.” He scanned the crowd, seeing many shake their heads. If looks could kill, I’d be dead already, he thought. “Let me ask you a simple question,” Willem continued, more animated than before. “How much water do you receive each week? How many gallons?”

  An older woman stepped forward. “You’ve killed people, and you want to ask us about water consumption? How dare you, young man.”

  Willem spread his hands in front of his body. “Your name, dear?”

  “Mrs. Chambers,” she replied proudly. “Mrs. Angela Chambers.”

  Willem smiled slightly at her. “Mrs. Chambers. You and your family receive about 15 gallons of water a week, correct?” She nodded after looking back at who Willem perceived to be her husband.

  “Maybe 10,” she countered. “There’s only two of us after all.”

  Willem paused thoughtfully. “Okay. You all receive somewhere between 10 and 15. How much,” he asked turning to wink at Howard, “how much do you think the Ericksons and Brushbrows and Kanes of the city receive? Twenty, 30…50?”

  Surveying the crowd, he saw quiet discussions between many. He grinned. “How surprised would you be to find out they had an unlimited weekly allowance of water?”

  Gasps flowed freely from the group. Several quiet “no’s” arose.

  “Well, it’s true,” Willem added. “We’ve been informed by young Jordan here this morning…”

  “George,” Howard added discreetly.

  Willem waved off his comment. “Young Mr. Andreason here…” Willem attempted to continue.

  “Anderson, but close enough,” Howard added, shrugging at George.

  “…has informed Howard and I that the 10 favorite families of Salt Lake had unlimited access to food and water. While you chewed on leathery horse meat or elk, they dined on beef. Fresh beef.” Jaws dropped amongst the gathered group.

  “I never said that,” George whispered to Howard.

  Howard grinned slightly. “Don’t stop him now, boy, he’s on a roll.”

  “Your beloved mayor would only dine on the freshest of kills. Aged one week, his preference, of course.”

&nbs
p; “Oh my Lord,” Mrs. Chambers called out. “How could they?” The crowd behind her agreed.

  “Because they didn’t care, people,” Willem retorted. “They didn’t care about you. Only themselves.”

  Silence reigned as all faces focused on Willem’s, blanketed in the most sincere look he could muster.

  “But that’s all over now,” he added softly. “No one gets special treatment anymore. Not me, not my men or women, none of us.” Nodding at the group, he prepared for his big finish. “And especially not anyone named Erickson, or Kane, or Williamson. Not on my watch.” A small smattering of applause split the air. Willem raised his hand for their attention.

  “Now, what shall I do with this armed ruffian who would do me harm? Me, a person who’s come here to help you. Me, a simple man, with a simple dream. A dream of uniting the people of Salt Lake and making this a better place for all of us. For many, many generations to come.”

  Willem watched as the crowd searched amongst itself for a solution. Finally, one of the last people to arrive spoke up. “You need to teach him a lesson, Mr. Tarlisch,” the middle-aged man said. “He was going to kill you.” He looked for others to join in agreement. Several heads nodded.

  “He’s always been kinda a hot head,” another offered.

  “Threatened to kill my dog years ago,” an older man shouted, “just because he was barking. He’s a troublemaker, Tarlisch. Get rid of him.”

  The speed at which the crowd turned on their neighbor excited Willem. Deliberately, he made his way to Andy and took the knife that he had confiscated. Andy grinned at his cousin. “Give ‘em what they want, Will.”