by Chloe Garner
“I’ll have terms of my own,” he said, and she nodded.
“I will be one of the most powerful and important women on the entire coast, or I will divorce Peter and take everything with me.”
“Details,” Jimmy said. She gave him a cold smile and turned her head toward the kitchen.
“I’m waiting,” she called. “My meal should have been here the minute I walked in the room.”
Sarah sat again, hearing Kayla’s small squeal. She handed the still-unnamed baby to her, hearing Kayla coo and refer to herself as Auntie Kayla.
One small life.
Human.
Now one-hundred percent Sarah’s responsibility.
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The time with the water surrounding the house hardly went quickly, but the days formed a routine that was calm. Sarah took inventories, made lists, repairs, and improvements. Jimmy spent several hours a day in his office, then he was with her the rest of the day, holding, feeding, changing Elaine.
Ellie.
Kayla started calling her Ellie Mae, and it stuck, despite Sarah’s coldest looks. She was still small, still soft beyond understanding, and her head tended to fall back or to the side like she was making a break for the floor, but her eyes began to take in the world around her, and she smiled when she saw Sarah.
Kayla marked on it once, and Sarah told her it was because Sarah was always the one with the bottle.
Lise never did hold her, nor did Peter. They took separate rooms upstairs and seldom came out.
One afternoon as Sarah stood out on the front porch, watching the water, Jimmy came out to stand next to her.
“Two days,” she said, and he nodded.
“It was high a long time, like you said.”
“I won’t be right every time, but I’m right often enough the wrong guesses don’t matter,” Sarah said, and she heard him smile.
“I have so much unfinished work to get back to,” he said.
She looked over.
“You look better than you have for months,” she said, and he nodded, squinting at the water, and then nodding again.
“I needed the forced break,” he said. “But it doesn’t mean I should have taken it, otherwise. We’ll have to dig the reservoir out again, and the mines will be…”
“Whatever they were, they’ll be that, more,” Sarah said. He nodded with a grim humor.
“I’ll add a building next to Doc for the bank,” he said. “I put in orders before I came to meet you for the vault and the walls. They should be waiting in Jeremiah by now. With our replacement cars.”
She wrinkled her nose.
“Ellie is going to learn to ride a horse,” she said.
“She’s going to be up in those mountains on the back of a horse before she starts eating solid food,” Jimmy said. “We both know she’s going to be… just like we were. But Lawrence has to change. There are better ways for it to be…”
“I ain’t fightin’ you, Lawson,” Sarah said. He stopped. She narrowed her eyes out at the horizon and she nodded.
“I always knew I was gonna die bad. But I ain’t gonna let her memory of me be the same as my memory of Elaine. Dyin’ in some damned bar fight at Willie and Paulie’s for no good reason. Ain’t gonna be pretty, ain’t gonna be what I’d choose, but… We can’t go back to bandits killin’ off everyone and the town dyin’ for want of everything.”
“All right,” he said quietly. “All right. I have equipment coming for a communication installation. We’ll have screens and telephones and all of that within three weeks of the water going down. Are you ready for that?”
“It ain’t gonna stand up to the next flood down the road,” Sarah said. “But…” She sighed. Hard. “Yes. We need to see what’s comin’, and we need to be able to trade absenta on the live market, not rely on Preston to do it for us. Customers gotta come get it, themselves. We hub it here…”
“It’s Lise’s first job,” Jimmy said, picking up as she spoke. “Get the standards legislation started, travel to the big absenta districts and get buy-in from their legislators…”
“Where Intec goes, the world will go,” Sarah said. “You’ve just got to convince ‘em that not going along is going to cost ‘em more than going along will.”
“We don’t sell it as a penalty,” Jimmy said. “We are going to corner the sales market on absenta. Where better to prove it than here? Once it gets out, it can get cut, it can get counterfeited… They buy a box of certified absenta from us, with my mark on it and a secret sign inside of it, they can rely on the quality of absenta they bought.”
“Your mark,” Sarah said, something primal in her wanting to fight back against that. She heard him smile.
“The Lawson mark,” he said. “It’s going to be famous, worldwide, within a year or two. Maybe three, if things don’t go like I expect…”
“You have a graphic designer out on the coast working on it?” Sarah asked.
“No,” he said quietly. “No. We already have a mark.”
She frowned.
Looked over.
“You talking about my brand?” she asked.
“I am.”
She looked out at the horizon again.
Dog came streaking past, a pack of Dog-shaped puppies tumbling after him and Mama takin’ up the rear. They squealed and yipped as Dog rolled on his back and they tackled him.
“Soft as anythin’,” Sarah said.
“They’ll be up in those mountains soon enough, too,” Jimmy said. “They’ll be good dogs.”
“My brand,” Sarah said. Jimmy had taken it for his cattle, though he was puttin’ it on the cows upside down to mark his separate from hers.
She’d designed it herself, maybe the year after Jimmy had left, maybe another year after. She’d had the blacksmith in Jeremiah make it for her. She’d found it effective enough, somethin’ simple she could spot at a good distance, different from what she saw on the other herds, and she was proud of it, now.
Stung that Jimmy would pick it, because it meant he knew she were proud of it. She thought she’d kept it better ‘n that.
“I like it,” Jimmy said after another moment.
It was an S with a hat, to be read S-T for Sarah Todd, but upside down, she realized… slow… that it read SL.
“Dammit,” she muttered, and she heard Jimmy snort quietly.
“You don’t let up,” she said.
“No.”
“That’s really what you want to take as the Lawson symbol?” she asked. “You don’t want to make up somethin’ fancy and pretty?”
“It’s Lawrence,” he said. “It isn’t about you. It ought to be a brand. And the Lawsons don’t have one, so I’m… annexing yours.”
She shook her head.
“Water’s goin’ down,” she said. “Couple days, no more.”
“We need to get the rail lines cleared,” Jimmy said. “Immediately.”
Sarah wanted to suggest that there was something defensively-natured to having the rail lines under a foot of setting sand-cement, but he was right and she knew it. Without cash to trade for it, absenta were just boxes of rocks.
Sarah sighed, lookin’ down at Ellie once more.
“She ain’t never gonna know the Lawrence that were.”
“Not all bad,” Jimmy answered. She nodded, lookin’ up again.
“No. Not all bad.”
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The water finished washing out two days later, and Sarah rode into town on the buckboard with Rhoda and Lise and Ellie. Sarah’d been this close to takin’ Gremlin and just carryin’ Ellie one-armed, but Rhoda had insisted Ellie weren’t strong enough yet for horseback. Sarah found the buckboard more jarrin’, but she had two arms and more attention to devote to keepin’ Ellie settled. For her part, the child were remarkably content with most everythin’. She woke upwards of half a dozen times at night, wantin’ fed, but other than that, she were an easy companion. Never complained ‘bout what Sarah wanted to be about, so long as there
were a bottle ready.
“You’re gonna need your own saddle bag,” Sarah observed to the baby as they loaded the buckboard: clean water, formula, bottles, diapers, cloths, blankets… Sarah’d been up in the mountains for a month with less kit.
Lise didn’t look back the whole ride, just sittin’ up next to Rhoda with her hands folded in her lap, watchin’ the horizon come at ‘em.
They drove through town, findin’ the sand there as deep as any other time, piled up solid under the boardwalks and against the buildings. Water’d come up higher than most years, and the shops were all gonna have a hell of a time gettin’ cleaned out. White carpet in Kayla’s shop would be a write-off.
Stretch in front of Granger’s shop was at least clean, and Willie and Paulie had cut a swath in to their door, so they’d both made it through just fine. One of the abandoned buildings at the end of the old street had collapsed down into the flow, just holdin’ onto the rest of the street by a corner. They’d hire some boys to finish tearin’ it down and re-use the wood somewhere else; likely homesteaders would have lost buildings, or portions, and the wood’d just disappear back into that.
They turned down Second Street, and Sarah glanced back at the stock yard. Walls were gone off it, but the bones of the structure were there, and the walls were flimsy gatin’ meant to be replaced time on time, anyway. The Lawson houses were exactly where they’d stood, though they were lower to the ground than normal Lawrence build, and the sand was piled up to the windows. They stopped at Lise’s house and Lise got down, lookin’ long at the foot and a half of sand against the door. Sarah felt for the woman, and knew she weren’t whole yet since delivery, and yet a strong portion of her wanted nothin’ more than to leave her there to make her own way in.
“Dammit,” she muttered, standin’ in the back of the buckboard and handin’ Ellie up to Rhoda. She jumped down, expectin’ the way her feet sunk into the sand, and even so, stumblin’ two big steps to get her feet under her. Wind’d take it ‘fore too long, but in the meantime, everything would be gummed up with the stuff.
And then.
And then the hobflowers would come.
Sarah snarled privately at the thought of the blight, but she brushed it off and went to the door, usin’ her foot for a shovel to dig a wedge out of the sand so the door would open.
She stepped aside for Lise, who passed like Sarah weren’t there. Sarah cast a single glance after her, then went to climb the buckboard next to Rhoda again.
“Let’s go see Doc,” Sarah said.
“I’d like to go up to the shelter,” Rhoda said. Sarah glanced at the baby Rhoda held, then nodded.
“Best we get used to it,” she said, takin’ Ellie back and settlin’ for a long ride up to the foothills. Ellie ate and fell asleep along the way, and Sarah put the light cloth over her face to keep the sun off.
“I feel like I should tell you…” Rhoda said slowly as they went.
“Then you probably should,” Sarah prompted after a moment.
“Kayla says you won’t put Ellie down for the wedding.”
Sarah thought that were about as odd a thought as she’d heard. She hadn’t thought about the weddin’ in weeks.
“Why?”
“Well, she’s barely slept in a crib, even,” Rhoda said. “And no one thinks that you’re wrong. She was born early, and you’re just looking out for her, but you don’t let other people hold her very much, other than Jimmy. I mean, there’s still a nurse at the house who spends all day reading books.”
“I sense you’re comin’ to a point any moment,” Sarah said, unperturbed. She did what she thought was right, and she didn’t see no sense in considerin’ what others thought of it, ‘less they had a better idea.
“She’s making you matching clothes for the wedding,” Rhoda said. “So that Ellie can be a part of the ceremony.”
Sarah let her head raise absently as she considered the many, many ways a thing like that could turn out.
“Two weeks after the hobflowers, as I recall,” Sarah said.
“Kayla’s in a huge rush, now,” Rhoda said. “She brought all of her supplies to the house to keep working through the flood, but she was hoping it would hold off another… month… from the sound of it.”
As she said it, Kayla had been scarce, between watchin’ over Lise and… this, apparently.
“I won’t go back on my word,” Sarah said. “But I’m holdin’ you to keepin’ me out of a dress.”
“No dresses,” Rhoda said, puttin’ up a hand of oath. Sarah nodded, checkin’ Ellie’s cheek for flush.
“So damned hot,” she said, reachin’ back for water to put on Ellie’s cheeks with her thumb. She remembered Elaine doin’ that with Yip.
“With the humidity,” Rhoda agreed. “It’ll get better when the water’s gone.”
“Jimmy reckons he’s gonna build a lake out here to hold it all.”
“Wonder how that will change everything, if it works,” Rhoda said. Sarah shook her head.
“He’s gone to look at it. I reckon it’s full ‘a sand what’s gonna pack down and take a hell of a lot of diggin’, and even when he digs it all out, ain’t gonna be no water left.”
“It would help with crops,” Rhoda said. “There’s nothing wrong with the ground out here. So long as I water everything enough, it grows.”
“It’s solid clay,” Sarah said. “Only thing stubborn enough to grow in this brick is gremlin.”
“We’ll see,” Rhoda said enigmatically and Sarah gave her a flat glower, lettin’ the conversation drop. They started passin’ young men walkin’ across the desert as the foothills began to loom ahead of them. Sarah hadn’t actually seen the shelter; just too busy to get up to it, and no purpose to it outside of dull curiosity. Rhoda sent the mare true, though, and the stream of men got thicker as they went along. Sarah motioned to her to stop as they passed a man Sarah knew.
“Everything go okay, up there?” she asked.
The man snorted.
“Depends on what you mean by okay,” he said, lookin’ toward town. “I just want to forget.”
“Hey,” Sarah said. “You tell me what happened.”
“I have no idea how many people they killed, before it was all over,” the man said. “I’d have rather taken my chances with the flood.”
Sarah looked around, sharp, at the young men, knowin’ that death - especially unjust death - breeds resentment, and resentment breeds violence.
The young man was already movin’ again, and Sarah let him go as Rhoda flicked over the mare’s back with the buggy whip. The ground was too soft for much speed, but the mare picked up a trot.
Sarah checked Ellie once more, then shifted to get her rifle out of the back and slide it into the rifle holster in the shotgun seat. She got out one of her handguns and let it lay across her lap, under Ellie.
“That’s…” Rhoda started, then shook her head. “I don’t like guns.”
“That’s Lawrence,” Sarah said, liftin’ her head so the young men would recognize her as they went past. Having a reputation didn’t make you bulletproof, but it went a long way.
Mostly the men moved out of the way, but as they got closer to the shelter, the number of men increased and their quality of attitude went down. Rhoda ended up havin’ to stop the mare for a pair of men to go past, else they’d have run ‘em over with the buckboard. One of ‘em looked up at Sarah as he went past and pointed a gun-shaped finger at her, droppin’ the hammer with a sound effect.
She blinked at him, slow, careful not to overreact, careful not to underreact.
“Best watch yourself if you ever get to the point of carryin’ a real gun,” she said. “I ain’t the type to forget a man.”
He gave her a sarcastic look and turned away.
“We’re all just here to die, anyway,” his companion said to Sarah and went on. Sarah looked to Rhoda again and Rhoda slapped the reins over the mare’s back.
The shelter were on the back of one of the front h
ills, down in a little pass between it and the next. Sarah knew the region well enough to know that it’d flood, far side of the next hill, ‘bout a mile on, and while it might ‘a been temptin’ to put the shelter far enough out that it wouldn’t turn into an island in a bad flood, the distance to Lawrence were already considerable enough, and the trip to the next of the baby mountains was too rough for most wheeled transport.
They rounded the hill to come in view of the shelter and found Thomas and Wade standin’ outside, Thomas with his arms folded across his chest and Wade with a pair of guns out.
“Oh,” Rhoda said, like she’d just started breathin’ again. Sarah realized she might ‘a asked if all the Lawsons were in fightin’ shape, for Rhoda’s benefit, but there weren’t no goin’ back for that.
They pulled the cart up to the buildin’ and Sarah handed Ellie over to Rhoda.
“Somethin’ goes fishy, you put that mare to a lope and you get the three of you out of here,” Sarah said, hoppin’ down and goin’ over to Thomas.
“Heard tell there were bodies at the end of this mess,” Sarah said, watchin’ as men went past.
Thomas sighed.
“I’m not really…” He swallowed. Tried again. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Weak,” Wade said. “They would have slit your throat in your sleep, if not for us.”
Sarah read Thomas’ face, then thumbed back at the buckboard.
“Go get in,” she said. “I need to talk a spell with Wade.”
Thomas clenched his jaw, preparin’ to argue, but Sarah shook her head.
“You ain’t got none to prove,” she said. “Get.”
She turned her face to Wade as Thomas walked over to the buckboard.
“What happened here?” she asked. Wade lifted his chin and Sarah shook her head. He was preparin’ to defend himself to her. “What did you do?”
“What we had to,” he said. “They got panicky, just like we thought they would, and when we shut them down, they got violent.”
“Shut them down for what?” Sarah asked. Wade shrugged.
“Things.”
She gave him an iron look, but he didn’t flinch. Had no decency to feel shame. Just defiance.
