“So you're letting us in without asking anything?” Lisa's mom asked, sounding equal parts relieved and disbelieving.
The older man coughed. “Well, I imagine you'll need to rent pastureland from the city. Aside from what you use today, which is gratis. It's not like good grazing land is exactly in short supply, though, as you're likely aware since you've been riding across it for long enough, so I'm sure the prices will be reasonable. As for settling your situation in New Bozeman, lodgings and the like, that'll cost you whatever it costs.”
Well, Lisa had to admit that was about the most generous offer they could've expected. Probably better than they would've gotten anywhere else.
Her parents seemed to agree. “Thank you,” her mom said warmly. “We can't tell you what it means to us to have a place where we'll be safe from Sangue. Any further generosity is more than we could've hoped for.”
Crenshaw shrugged. “Well, I'm happy to accept your thanks on behalf of the League.” He turned back to her dad. “Let's sort out some of the finer details of your arrival, the usual paperwork. Then you folks can get back to living your lives and prospering.”
The processing for their arrival to New Bozeman took about ten minutes, mostly just providing their names and where they'd come from and listing their assets and, if applicable, what assistance they might need in the way of food, medicine, or anything else. Something Lisa's family wasn't eligible for, of course, since they could afford those things on their own.
Then the soldiers packed up and headed back to their vehicles. But before walking away, the major paused to give them a solemn look. “I need to make one thing clear, just so you don't have any mistaken expectations.”
Lisa perked up at that, feeling a surge of dread. What could he have to say to make him take that ominous tone?
Her dad also seemed worried as he replied. “We're listening.”
The officer nodded once, curtly. “I'm sure you've already been told that the Northern League is reclusive. We take great pains to keep our existence a secret, and have almost no dealings with outside groups. That's a philosophy that's served us well ever since the Ultimatum, and we don't mean to abandon it now.”
He gestured vaguely towards the crowd of refugees still waiting to be processed. “We can't ignore the people who've come to us for help, in the wake of the Panthers' wave of terror down south. We sympathize with you, and we want to do what we can. But even for folks like you, who can support yourselves, our offer isn't a permanent one.”
Lisa's mom spoke up quietly. “You're saying you plan to kick us out at some point.”
Crenshaw hesitated. “Very likely,” he agreed, voice equally quiet. “Once the enemy's dealt with, if they're dealt with, it will be safe for you to return to your homes. We just want to warn you in advance that you'll probably be asked to do so when the war is over. Don't put down roots.”
Her dad looked weary but resigned. “Is there some way we could convince you folks otherwise? Earn our way in somehow?”
Another hesitation from the major, who looked distinctly uncomfortable about being the one to have to discuss this with them. “That's really not for me to say, I'm afraid. I encourage you to ask around, see what you can manage. Just . . . don't get your hopes up.” He glanced at Lisa and her mom, who was still holding Bryant. Whatever he saw in their expressions made him look away guiltily. “Sorry.”
Without another word he walked off.
* * * * *
After around two months of feeling like she was on the run, fleeing from Camptown into a dangerous world swarming with Sangue in vehicles who might swoop in at any minute, as well as bandits and desperate, possibly hostile refugees, and even townspeople in the communities they passed who might decide to rob them, Lisa was surprised at how uneventful settling into New Bozeman turned out to be.
The first step was securing the herd. Under most circumstances they would've made a temporary corral close to the pasture they were using, or even just kept watch during the night to bring in strays, until they could build something more permanent. But it didn't take a genius to realize that even though the Northern League seemed fair and decent, with so many displaced refugees wandering around, not all guaranteed to be good people, a bit of caution was wise.
Not to mention that crime was always a worry in even the most stable society, and even if the League did their best, it wasn't a stretch to assume that if a New Bozeman citizen decided to rob them, the authorities might be less interested in seeing justice done on behalf of strangers who'd come hat in hand, to the detriment of their own citizens.
So all things considered, her dad decided they should find a stable or corral and pay to house their animals there. Luckily, they found a friendly business who offered them decent rates, something that wouldn't impoverish them until they could find a better arrangement or build their own housing for their animals.
As for Lisa's family, they camped out same as they'd been doing this entire time. Until they could find a better arrangement, of course. And even with their livestock safely housed, her dad still insisted on them taking turns on watch through the night, same as they had while traveling north.
“It might even be more necessary now that we're around people,” he said grimly. “I hold out the hope that this place is as peaceful and safe as it looks, but that's no reason to let our guard down.”
So they slept in tents in the pasture they'd rented, and every morning and evening spent hours bringing their animals out to graze and then back to the corral. Lisa's dad left watching the animals to her and her mom a lot of the time, so he could get to work building a sturdy fence and basic enclosure for the herds.
When they weren't busy with the herds, her parents wanted to go into town and talk to people as much as possible. It wasn't just socializing; her mom had dairy products from their cows and goats to sell, and her dad wanted to find out more about what was going on in the war against Sangue. Or the Panteras, apparently.
Even beyond that, though, her dad wanted to make friendly with the citizens in New Bozeman so they wouldn't always have to be looking over their shoulders. If they could befriend people in the community, the community itself would include them in its protection. Beyond that, he also hoped that if the people of the city welcomed them, it would be easier to get a permanent invitation to stay.
From what Lisa could see, that might be a challenge. New Bozeman's citizens were friendly enough, but reserved. And they obviously had strong feelings about the influx of refugees; the reclusive nature of the League was reflected in its people, and having so many strangers around made them distinctly uncomfortable.
She wasn't sure it was a good thing or a bad thing that her family, better off than most and able to contribute to the community, were in a sort of halfway zone where people didn't consider them quite refugees, but didn't exactly welcome them with open arms, either. So the townspeople were more likely to speak unguardedly in front of them, even badmouthing refugees at times, as if forgetting that's what they were.
It led to some awkward silences when people remembered, which her parents did their best to gloss over.
Even though the citizens of New Bozeman didn't exactly accept her family without reservation, Lisa had to admit it was nice to be around other people again. People who were mostly friendly and, as far as she knew, had no interest in robbing and killing them. She'd forgotten how much she'd missed the socializing since leaving Camptown, especially since so much of her time had been spent isolated up on the ranch anyway, with just her family and Skyler's and whatever ranch hands were helping them at the time, aside from the occasional visit.
There were even kids to play with here!
They were friendly enough, mostly wanting to hear stories about what things had been like farther south, in what they called Sangue territory. Which she supposed wasn't entirely inaccurate, even if she hadn't felt like Emery or the nearby mountains belonged to the enemy. It actually surprised Lisa how many kids her own age there were. Gi
rls who welcomed her into their groups, at least superficially at first, and boys who snuck peeks at her when they thought she wasn't looking, obviously interested.
Not that she paid any attention, of course, since her heart still belonged to Skyler; one of the main things that had kept her going on the lonely, fearful journey north was her hope that eventually the fighting would end, Sangue would be defeated, and she could go home and be with him again.
It would happen. She believed that with all her heart. She even thought about what it would be like to ride back into Camptown to find him waiting for her, the shock on his face changing to delight as he ran to pull her into his arms.
He'd been there for her when she needed him most, after Newpost. Those awful nights when she woke screaming from nightmares and fled up the steep slope to the winter lodge to rap quietly on the door, waking him from his nook right next to it and begging him to come out and sit with her so she wouldn't have to be alone in the dark.
Those quiet moments under the stars, the mountain valley near silent aside from the occasional late night noises, with his dark silhouette seated reassuringly next to her. Some of the most peaceful times in her life, in spite of the initial fear that led to them.
Lisa could guess Skyler had probably wanted nothing more than to go back to bed. In fact, he'd fallen asleep right there on the ground beside her more than once. But he'd never complained or even hinted that he wasn't perfectly content to sit with her all night if she needed him. More than all the other endless hours they'd shared, doing everything from caring for the livestock to hiking the steep mountain slopes together, those peaceful nights of quiet, steady support had formed a bond deeper than friendship.
Skyler had been with her through the worst time of her life. Which was why she knew that she could count on him no matter what happened, that he'd always be there for her. Even if neither of them were adults yet, she felt with her whole being he was someone she could someday spend her life with.
She missed him so much it hurt, and felt bad about how little she thought about him after so long apart. She still had the beautiful ring he'd given her before she left; her mom had helped her sew it into a hidden pocket in her coat, since even though valuables were pretty much worthless for trade these days people did still think they were worth stealing.
It was impossible for Lisa to take it out and look at it, but she often brushed her fingers across the hidden pocket, remembering the boy she loved and longing to see him again. Wondering if she ever would.
Another good thing about socializing was that, unsurprisingly, the main subject everyone wanted to talk about was the war against Sangue.
The Northern League was doing unexpectedly well, in spite of being massively outnumbered and outgunned, and only recently ramping up to any significant levels of refined fuel production. Part of that was due to the enemy invaders overplaying their momentum, pushing to take territory they didn't have the strength to hold. All the while experiencing determined, even vicious, resistance in occupied territory from people who knew they had no choice but to keep fighting.
Sangue had left them no choice.
Even so, the enemy's strength was terrifying in spite of the opposition. Grand Junction, the only real power between the Northern League and the encroaching invaders, had been pretty much a speed bump the moment the Panteras turned the full might of their army on the large trading city. The Panthers had likely expected to crush the Northern League with the same ease, even if that nation was larger and better supplied than anything they'd faced up to that point.
But even beyond being the only opposition the bloodies had run into that had access to comparable technology, the League had other advantages. One was the simple fact that due to their reclusiveness, nobody knew anything about them. Sangue could torture as many innocent people captured outside the League's borders as they wanted looking for information, but no one could tell them anything useful.
The invaders had no idea how much territory the League held, where their cities and military outposts were, or even really what their numbers were. For all they knew, they could've just ran smack dab into an empire just as powerful as their own, one spreading down from the north instead of up from the south.
Another advantage was that the Panteras hadn't reacted well to seeing their advance stopped dead in its tracks, all along the northwest States from the Pacific Ocean to the Great Lakes, more thoroughly and decisively than Grand Junction had ever managed. It was the first time they'd ever encountered real resistance, and their tactic up to that point in similar situations had been to simply throw more and more troops and equipment at the problem until it was crushed beneath the sheer weight of numbers.
That had been failing spectacularly for them against the League; they threw their troops into what must feel like a void, watching them get swallowed up no matter how great the numbers or overwhelming the heavy weaponry. Even tanks got stopped in their tracks.
“Pun intended,” Lisa's dad said, making her and her mom groan and roll their eyes, shushing him in their eagerness to hear more from the shopkeeper they were currently talking to.
Of course, while it may have seemed to the Panthers like their mysterious enemy was a void devouring all their troops with ease, in truth the fighting was taking a brutal toll on the Northern League. They came ahead in their victories, sure, but always at a steep cost. One they couldn't afford to bear the way the Panteras with their conscripted horde of soldiers could.
But the northerners fought on, determined to drive the enemy back, and even more than that to prevent them from causing any more suffering to innocents.
Probably the most incredible thing about the League, even more than the technology or the obvious prosperity or the fact that it had remained a secret from pretty much everyone else in the country since the Ultimatum, was that they actually knew what was going on with Sangue's origins. As evidenced by knowing enough to identify the main army and leadership as Panteras.
Everywhere else, the invaders from the south had been a baffling enigma to their victims. They made no attempts to communicate, or to negotiate aside from demanding surrender, or to explain anything about themselves. Even Lisa's own family, who'd been prisoners of the enemy (with horrific results that still gave her nightmares to this day), had learned practically nothing about them while being held captive.
But the League seemed to know a shocking amount from their intelligence gathering over the last several years. And even better, they were happy to share that knowledge with their people, so they knew just what enemy they were fighting.
First off, solving the mystery of how the invaders still had technology, from what League spies and prisoner interrogations had managed to learn, there'd been a BRICKS force en route to South America when the Ultimatum struck. Their initial mission had been to meet up with reinforcements in Brazil, and take advantage of the shortages that had hit the United States and other NATO nations to begin posturing against neighboring South American nations, pressuring them to join up with BRICKS. The ultimate goal had been securing Venezuela and its precious petroleum industry, further escalating the shortages most of the non-BRICKS nations were suffering.
The Ultimatum had changed that, and the small fleet of warships, transports, and aircraft carriers had been caught in the middle of the Atlantic when the nukes flew, obliterating most of the developed world. They'd been overlooked in the chaos, spared any targeted strike and out of range of the EMPs that had blanketed most of the world's landmasses.
In spite of that good fortune of escaping the horrific fate so many others had suffered, in a matter of hours the fleet's entire situation changed.
Their homes were gone. Their families were gone. Their commanding officers and civilian leadership and entire nations were gone. Their allies in Brazil were gone, as were most of the people in the countries they'd been planning to pressure to join them. Their enemies were gone, too.
All that was left was to survive and rebuild.
; So they did. The combined task force of Russian and Chinese troops searched until they found a place in Brazil, one that was out of the path of any fallout and that could still sustain life, then began gathering survivors and rebuilding. Not much different from anywhere else, aside from the fact that they had technology still. That made it easy to quell any civil unrest in the populations they encountered, as well as giving them a chance to hunt out petroleum sources that hadn't been taken out by nuclear strikes, and begin production once again.
They called their new country Novo Patria, New Homeland, in honor of the predominantly Brazilian population they were gathering, and for several years things were looking good.
Then a group of South American insurgents calling themselves the Panteras, or Panthers, began agitating against the BRICKS military leadership. They'd most likely been remnants of a criminal cartel or syndicate, or perhaps several banding together.
They began spreading propaganda that Novo Patria was run by a dictatorial regime that had conquered Brazil and the nearby countries as they were struggling to put the pieces back together. That the soldiers from overseas had established themselves as overlords, living lives of leisure on the fruits of the South American people's labor.
From the sounds of it, that wasn't a completely unfounded accusation, since Novo Patria hadn't sounded like the most pleasant place to live even before the Panthers took over. Unfortunately, as part of their agitating the Panteras railed against the fact that Novo Patria showed no interest in pursuing vengeance against the enemies who'd nuked their countries. The faceless NATO leaders who'd doomed hundreds of millions of innocent people across the territory Novo Patria controlled, including loved ones that pretty much every survivor had lost, to death by nuclear blasts, radiation sickness, and starvation, and sent everyone else back to the Stone Age.
The Panteras had insisted that simply rebuilding wasn't enough; they were in a strong position, and it was time to turn that strength on their enemies. If their BRICKS overlords didn't agree, they needed to go.
Mountain Man (Book 5): Final Stand [Last Ditch] Page 7
