“The Wimmers might be our first problem,” Charlie said. “They have a grudge.”
Jim nodded. “Tell me something, Charlie. Honestly. Were you going to move on the Wimmers? Burn them out or kill them?”
It took Charlie a while to answer. Jim could sense him trying to find the words. “I hadn’t decided yet. I felt like something had to happen but I wasn’t sure what to do. I was just trying to keep everyone safe.”
“I understand that,” Jim said. “If you want a more active role in the security of this valley, Hugh and I can make that happen. You’re young and hot-headed. You have a lot to learn. It will be a slow process but we can move in that direction.”
“What exactly does that mean?” Charlie asked. “Pete and I already do sentry duty. We ride patrols.”
“The first thing it means is that I’m thinking you and Pete should move into Lloyd’s house. I don’t like it sitting empty because it’s the first house we control in the valley. It’s close to the Wimmers and allows us to keep an eye on their activities. Controlling that position lets us know who’s coming and who’s going.”
Pete and Charlie looked at each other in shock.
“Really?” Pete asked. “You think Mom will go for that?”
“I think I can make it happen. You both have to keep quiet about this for now. Let me talk to Randi and Ellen first. Okay?”
“Sure!” Pete said.
“Okay,” Charlie agreed.
“What are we going to do about the Wimmers?” Hugh asked. “I was there at the gate. They’re pretty pissed.”
“We’re going to help them rebuild that bridge.”
Everyone stopped in their tracks. Noticing that he was now walking alone, Jim stopped and turned. Everyone was looking at him like he’d lost his mind. “What?”
“Are you serious?” Pete asked.
“I’m completely serious. They may not want our help, but I’m going to make the offer. I’m going to tell them we’re going to rebuild the bridge and they’re welcome to help if they want.”
Charlie looked worried. “Are you going to tell them I burned it down?”
“No. They don’t need to know that. Let them think it was people from town. I believe this is the quickest way to build goodwill with those people. There’s a lot of bad blood but we’re not going to get rid of them. We might as well see if we can win them over.”
“Good luck with that,” Hugh snickered.
Jim smiled. “Oh, you’re coming with me. I’m going to do the talking but I need someone along to take my body home if it goes south.”
“Dad!” Pete said.
Jim waved him off. “I’m joking.”
Pete scowled. “Not much of a joke.”
Jim shrugged. “Your father has a weird sense of humor. You’ll realize that more and more as you get older. Let’s keep moving.”
They started walking again and Jim went on. “We also need to improve our intelligence gathering. Hugh, you’ve been doing an excellent job on the radios. I know you’ve been expanding your network over time.”
“As time permits,” Hugh said. “Gardening has cut into my efforts. In the winter I could sit around all day and fool with my radios.”
“We also need more local intelligence. The only way we’ll get that is by having eyes and ears in town. We need to have someone at that farmer’s market. That’s the hub of the community right now. That’s the one place where information is coming together.”
“What do you mean by having someone there?” Pete asked.
“Customers are on the outside. They’re not there long enough to hear anything, but they bring information in. Vendors talk amongst themselves and share the best information they hear. They aggregate intelligence. We need to have a table at that market so we have access to the best intel.”
“We’ve got enough to stock one,” Hugh said. “This is a good time. We could sell the extra produce we can’t preserve. We’ve got gear from the skirmishes that we can’t use. There’s a market for the crappy stuff too. People with nothing are glad to get it.”
“I’ve still got a lot to trade off,” Charlie said. “Things I can never use.”
“The question is who to send,” Jim said. “I’m burned in town. It can’t be me.”
“I’d like to do it,” Charlie said. “I’m not from here so no one should be able to connect me with your family. I’ve also got a lot to trade off.”
Jim frowned. “I’d be glad to send you but you’re young to do it alone. People will try to bully and take advantage of you.”
“I won’t take any bullshit,” Charlie argued.
“But you also have to be able to keep a cool head and you’re not there yet,” Jim said. “No offense.”
“How about Gary’s wife? Debra? She’s been the one pushing to go since the beginning,” Hugh suggested.
Jim considered. “We can ask her.”
“I’d still like to be part of it,” Charlie said. “Maybe she and I could work a table together?”
They discussed a few other items that had come to Jim while he was gone. Eventually, they reached Buddy’s old house—Lloyd’s new house—and Jim produced a key. They checked it inside and out, finding nothing disturbed.
“Can you picture it?” Charlie asked Pete. “Us living here?”
Pete grinned. “Parties. Chicks.”
Jim laughed. “Don’t get ahead of yourselves. This is an experiment. Don’t blow it.”
Pete was undeterred. “When can we move in?”
“If I survive the Wimmers, your mother, and Randi, we’ll figure that out.”
“That’s a big if,” Hugh added.
“You and Charlie can hang out here on the porch and start planning your party,” Jim said. “Hugh and I are going over to the Wimmers’ house.”
Hugh’s eyes widened. “Now?”
“No time like the present.”
“It’s your funeral.”
“I don’t like these jokes,” Pete groaned.
Jim hugged his son. “We’ll be back. It’ll be fine.”
67
Jim’s Valley
There was no one outside the Wimmer house when Jim and Hugh approached. It was an old farmhouse that had once aspired to be something more. There were details stolen from Greek Revival and Colonial homes, but nothing to tie it all together into a singular style. More than anything it was a vast wooden space where one could raise a large family and a couple of generations of their offspring.
Jim and Hugh let themselves through the gate and walked up the dirt road to the crumbling concrete sidewalk. At the end of the sidewalk was a set of concrete steps that led to nothing, originally designed to aid ladies in climbing aboard wagons. Hugh took a seat on those steps, wary and uncomfortable with the exposed position. Jim approached the house, climbed onto the porch, and knocked politely on the door.
As he waited, he noticed some damage to the door and frame. Someone had been shot before while standing exactly where he was standing. Jim decided it might be wise to move so he took two steps to the side and waited there instead. To his left he noticed a curtain flutter. Footsteps approached the door, the knob twisted, then Mrs. Wimmer was standing there glaring at him.
“Well if it ain’t the devil hisself done come to pay me a visit,” she said. Her voice was low and gravely with age. Her white hair had grown long and hung wild around her shoulders. She’d lost weight but had the same harsh features, the same dark, penetrating eyes. “Where you been, Old Scratch? Thought you left us for good?”
She had to be referring to the trip Jim had taken on the helicopter, when most of the locals assumed he was being hauled off to pay for his crimes at the power plant.
“I went on a trip but,” Jim ran a hand through his hair, “as you can see, I’m back now. Good as ever. They decided it was all a big misunderstanding and they let me go.”
She seemed displeased with that revelation. “I figured they took you back to Hell, where you belong for all the tro
uble you caused.”
Jim smiled. “If this is Hell, I hoped for more entertaining neighbors.”
Mrs. Wimmer raised an eyebrow and frowned. Jim felt slighted. It was a rather weak response to what he thought was a funny remark.
“What you doing here darkening my doorstep? I ain’t got time to stand here and chew cabbage with you.”
“I heard you all built a bridge into town to replace the one that got...blown up. I also heard that someone came along and burned your new bridge to the ground shortly after it was completed.”
She nodded. “That’s a fact. I assume it was them people of yours. They don’t take kindly to strangers coming into the valley. They tend toward selfishness and wickedness. I assume they get that from you.”
“They’re protective and they did get that from me. Either way, I’m not here to argue about who burned down your bridge. If you think it was my people, I’m fairly certain I can’t convince you otherwise. I am here to offer to rebuild the bridge though. We’ll start tomorrow. If you want to help, we’ll be there first thing in the morning.”
Rather than being surprised or pleased, she looked wary. “You’re going to rebuild the bridge your people didn’t want? What’s the catch?”
“Consider it an effort to make up for some of the bad blood between us. I’d rather we be working with each other than against each other.”
Mrs. Wimmer glared at him with cold eyes. “You got a hell of a long way to go before we’re friendly again, Mr. Powell.”
Jim winked at her. “Same on this end, Mrs. Wimmer. But if you don’t mind, please pass that information on to your men. Hopefully, we can have the bridge back open in a week or so.”
“I’ll tell them.” She backed into the house and closed the door in his face.
Jim spun on his heel, descended the steps, and approached Hugh with a grin on his face.
“I couldn’t hear the words but the body language was interesting,” Hugh remarked. “She looked like a sour old bitch. You looked like honey was pouring from your mouth.”
“Our game has to be a lot smarter from here on out, old friend. It’s politics. It’s building a support network in the community and intel networks on all levels. We need to know everything that’s happening and everything that’s going to happen.”
Hugh fell in alongside Jim. Every couple of steps he turned around to check the Wimmers’ house, making sure no one was drawing a bead on their backs. “We’ve got a good group, Jim. They’re tough and scrappy. They’re mean enough and resourceful enough to survive, but I know exactly what you mean. We need to take this to the next level.”
They left the Wimmers’ property and closed the gate behind them. The walk back down to Lloyd’s house took only a few minutes. They found Charlie and Pete sitting on the porch.
“We’ll need some help going through Buddy’s stuff,” Pete said. “Lloyd never dealt with any of that. There’s stuff everywhere.”
“We can help with that. We’ll get it figured out. I told Lloyd we’d store his stuff for him. Hugh, you take a seat with the boys. I need to find something inside. I’ll be right back.”
Jim stepped through the front door and went to the kitchen. He dug into the pantry and shuffled around a few things until he found what he was looking for, then returned to the front porch with it. He held the jar of blackberry moonshine up for everyone to see.
Hugh looked at Jim, then at the boys. The boys looked at each other, then back at Jim with grins on their faces.
“Is that Lloyd’s liquor?” Pete asked.
“Yes, but it’s my favorite of Lloyd’s liquor stash so technically it’s as good as mine. Besides, when he said he wasn’t coming back, I told him there were no guarantees as far as the blackberry moonshine was concerned.”
“Ellen is going to kick your ass if she finds out about this,” said Hugh.
“No one is getting drunk.” Jim unscrewed the lid from the jar. “I’m simply proposing a toast to returning home and to our new game plan.”
Jim took a sip and relished the fruity burn of the liquor. When he was done, he passed the jar to Hugh.
“When do the rest of the folks find out about our plan?” Hugh asked, tilting the jar up and taking a sip.
“That’s my plan for the rest of the day,” Jim said. “I’m going to visit Gary and then Randi. If I survive them, I’m going to talk to Ellen. I’ll update everyone on the new plan and on the boys moving into Lloyd’s house.”
“We’re really going to rebuild the bridge?” Pete asked, sounding a little intimidated by the scope of that project.
“I don’t think we’ll rebuild it the same way the Wimmers did,” Jim replied. “There’s a flatbed semi-trailer parked at the superstore. With a few horses and a homemade tow dolly, we could stretch that thing across the gap easier than we could build another bridge. Once we get it in place, we’ll ramp up to it on each side. Beats the hell out of dropping trees, limbing them, and dragging them into place. It’s a lot safer too.”
Hugh rested the lid back on the jar and gestured at the boys, asking Jim with his eyes if he was certain he wanted to do this. Jim gave him the go-ahead. Hugh stretched toward Pete and handed him the jar.
Pete lifted the lid and took a whiff. Despite his initial excitement, he was hesitant now that the moment was upon him. “It smells good but it smells strong.”
Jim grinned. “It’s both those things. Take a small sip and then pass it to Charlie.”
Pete sipped, winced at the bite, and passed it to his friend. Charlie’s reaction was nearly identical. When he was done, he passed it back to Jim. The jar made one more circle and then Jim shoved it into his pack.
“Don’t you boys breathe on your mother or Randi for a couple of hours,” Jim advised. “Don’t do anything stupid either.”
“Like drive?” Pete asked.
“Or operate heavy machinery?” Charlie added.
The two looked at each other and laughed.
“Don’t whoop it up too much, boys,” Hugh said. “You didn’t have enough to start slurring and staggering.”
They looked disappointed.
“Let’s get out of here.” Jim stood. “We have a lot to do.”
While everyone got their gear together, Jim went inside one more time to make sure all the doors were locked. Seeing Lloyd’s possessions scattered about the house made him think of his old friend. He hoped Lloyd was doing okay. He hoped he’d made the right call. Maybe if Jim hadn’t heard anything from him by winter, he could head over there and pay him a visit. He could take Randi if she’d calmed down by then.
He looked around at the guitars, banjos, and other instruments. Before leaving, he pulled the jar out of his pack and held it aloft.
“To Buddy. To Lloyd. To friends.”
He took a long sip, then resealed the jar and stashed it in his pack. He backed out the door and closed it behind him.
68
Oliver’s House
With Lloyd’s help, they cleaned the chimneys in the big house. Using a trick he’d learned from his grandfather, he crumpled a section of rat-wire into a ball and fastened it to the end of a rope. Getting on the roof was sketchy but they managed to do it. He dropped the rope down the chimneys and drew the ball of wire down through them. The wire acted like a chimney brush, scraping the chimneys clean with a little effort. The next day they used levers and rollers to move a rusty old cookstove from the barn to the kitchen, reconnecting it to the abandoned thimble hidden beneath a decorative trim cap.
Lloyd was adjusting, both to being in a new place, among new people, and to feeling like he was responsible for their safety. Somehow that detail had not entered his mind when he decided to move here. He imagined carefree days playing music and helping out, much as he’d done in Jim’s valley.
Now he was seeing the ugly side of keeping the peace in a small community. Someone had to be willing to make the hard calls. Someone had to be willing to pull the trigger. He was reminded of that every time he look
ed to the north and saw buzzards circling beyond the cornfield. He knew they were circling that young man’s body. He wished they’d just eat him and be done with it.
That afternoon Kendall and Freda showed up. They were out for an evening stroll after dinner. Lloyd was outside heating water in a cast-iron cauldron for washing dishes. It was the same vessel that Oliver’s family would have used for scalding a hog before they scraped the fur from the hide. Now that they had a working stove they could have heated the water inside but it was too hot for a fire in the house.
Nathan was demonstrating his fire-building skills to Lloyd when Kendall joined them. Freda went straight for the house, wanting to visit with Sharon and the smaller children.
“Any trouble out of that bunch up the road?” he asked.
Lloyd knew he meant Kimberly, but he seemed hesitant to even use the name, as if speaking it might invoke her presence. “Nah, it’s been quiet.”
Nathan gave Lloyd a nervous glance, then smiled at Kendall. “Yeah, things have been great. The new house is a big improvement.”
“Yeah, I think that whole mess is over with,” Lloyd agreed.
Kendall took a seat on a log and slapped his leg enthusiastically. “Dang it, I knew we could make her listen to reason. That girl might be hot-headed but she knows to respect her elders. She knows when to listen to reason.”
When Kendall looked away, Lloyd gave Nathan a wink. The boy had been convincing. He felt a twinge of guilt at asking them to lie. Neither he nor Sharon had felt good about coaching the children to do it, but they’d assured them it was a necessary evil. Sometimes you had to do things to protect the people you loved because people outside of the family wouldn’t understand. This was one of those things.
They’d discussed it as a group when he got home from killing Kimberly.
“You all know that Mr. Lloyd did what he did to help us, right? To save Tara?” Sharon had asked the children around the fire that night.
They’d all agreed, every little face nodding in the firelight.
“He did it for us,” Sharon said. “He’ll do it again if he has to. I’ll do it if I have to. Nathan, would you do it if you had to?”
The Borrowed World Series | Book 8 | Blood & Banjos Page 39
