by Payne, T. L.
The judge shook her hand and gestured to the wooden chair in front of his desk.
“Have a seat,” the judge said, waving Jacob and Maddie over.
Judge Farley picked up an old paper church-fan decorated with a brightly colored picture of Jesus. He waved it back and forth in front of his face like Maddie had seen little old ladies do at the old church in Evening Shade. She wiped the sweat from her own brow as she took a seat next to Maria. Jacob stood behind them.
“What brings you in today, Jac—Sheriff Rawlings?”
Maddie thought the judge correcting his slip-up was a good sign. Jacob’s official position with the county still meant something, at least to the judge.
“Well, Judge, I wanted to make sure you were aware of the situation over at the prison. I was informed by one of the few remaining guards, Todd Simmons, that the military has plans to pull out, leaving the prison unguarded,” Jacob said.
The judge leaned back in his seat and placed the fan on his desk. He clasped his hands together and stared hard at Jacob.
“And you have a plan to secure the inmates,” the judge stated.
“Well, I um…” Jacob stammered.
The judge’s eyes narrowed. His mouth pinched tight, and his jaw clenched.
“We do, Your Honor,” Maddie interjected.
The elderly judge turned his gaze to her. He cocked his head to the side and studied her.
“Langston. The name is familiar. Who’s your daddy, girl?”
Maddie wanted to laugh. She wasn’t quite sure why, but that struck her as funny. She suppressed a giggle and said, "Greg Langston, sir. We have a cabin over near Paddy Creek.”
“Ah, yeah. Ron Hillman’s friend from St. Louis.”
The mention of Ron’s name pricked her heart. She wondered if the judge knew she’d gotten Ron killed.
“Ron was a good man. So was your daddy. Good men, the both of them. So, you say you have a plan?”
“We have an idea, but frankly, Your Honor, it requires your clout with the people of the community,” Maddie said.
She stared at the older gentlemen as she looked for a reaction. Bushy, gray eyebrows framed his stern, pale-blue eyes. His hard stare was uncomfortable, and she wanted to look away, but she was afraid to break eye contact. A slight smile began at the corners of his mouth and spread into a full-blown grin.
“So, you need me?”
“Yes, sir. The plan won’t work without you.”
It was true. The residents were unlikely to step up and do what it took without the judge’s influence. She knew she needed to play to the man’s ego. He liked being needed.
“Well, go ahead. Tell me your plan,” the judge said. “Jacob, stop standing there being useless. Pull up a damn chair.”
Jacob dragged a chair from the corner of the room as Maddie began to tell the judge their idea for using residents to guard the perimeter of the prison.
“It would only be until the governor and Red Cross get the rest of the prisoners transported down to Farmington,” Maddie said.
“I really don’t see what choice we have with the military pulling out and abandoning us like this. We can’t have convicted murderers, rapists, and child molesters roaming the streets,” Judge Farley said as he stood. “Send Margaret in on your way out. I’ll put her in charge of the sign-up sheet. You come by tomorrow, and I’ll have you all the volunteers you need.”
Maddie smiled and extended her hand. Judge Farley took her hand in his and said, “If this goes south, we’re all done for. People will never trust me again. So, deary, you make damn sure that doesn’t happen. Ya hear?”
Maddie swallowed hard and pulled her hand back.
“Yes, sir. I’ll do my best.”
Chapter 3
Spring Creek, Missouri
Event + 19 Days
The dust cloud created by Roger’s ATV and Zach's bike overtook them as they stopped in front of a fish-shaped mailbox at the end of a long driveway.
"I think this is it," Roger yelled through his helmet.
Zach pushed up the visor of his helmet and said, "You think? I don't want to get shot rolling up on someone's house."
Roger stared down at the name on the mailbox and nodded his head. It read, “Captain America.”
Zach raised an eyebrow.
"Are you sure?"
"Yep, I'm sure. That's Dave for you," Roger said.
Zach was still concerned about arriving unannounced, but with the noise of the four-wheeler and his bike, the man would have plenty of warning that someone was coming. Zach just hoped he wasn't the shoot-first-ask-questions-later kind of guy.
Roger turned the ATV into the driveway, and Zach followed behind him. The driveway wound back and forth through the woods for a quarter-mile before reaching a clearing. Barbed wire fencing and a green cattle gate lie between them and the small mobile home. To the right of the trailer was a small log cabin. Smoke rose from a pipe on the roof.
"You're trespassing," a man yelled.
Zach couldn't see anyone. With his right foot, he stomped on the kickstand, leaned the bike over onto it, and threw his left leg over the seat to dismount. Zach pulled his rifle from the scabbard and ran for cover. When he reached a nearby tree, he looked back. Roger was still seated on the ATV by the gate.
"Don’t shoot us, Dave," Roger yelled back.
"Roger, what the hell are you doing running the roads?" the man called back.
"I came to see about you, old man."
"The hell you did. And I ain't old. I can still whip your ass."
"In your dreams, Dave," Roger said, placing his helmet on the seat.
"Who you got with you?”
Roger turned and looked over his shoulder.
"Greg's boy."
"Well, come on up then," the man said, waving his hand in the air.
Dave Henderson wore a fringed buckskin jacket over tan tactical pants. His white beard looked like it hadn't been groomed in weeks. Roger towered over the short man, who led them down a gravel path to the small cabin. On the porch sat an old rocker. An overturned barrel topped with a wood plank served as a side table. On the table sat a mason jar filled with a clear liquid, and the paperback novel of Franklin Horton's, The Mad Mick.
When Zach stepped across the threshold into the tiny one-room cabin, a strong odor of leather and tanning oils hit him. The cabin was dark, except for what light came from a task light on the workbench. Zach looked around for a window. There were only two small ones. Neither let in much light, or air, for that matter.
A small wood stove sat in one corner, and a workbench stretched the length of one wall. A shelf contained leather, and what looked to Zach to be antlers and feathers, along with other things he imagined were used to make arrows and quivers.
Dave took a seat on a stool next to his workbench.
"What can I do you for, gentlemen?"
"We came to see if we could make a trade for some arrows and knives, and maybe one of those buckskin jackets there," Roger said, pointing to a fringed jacket hanging on a hook along the wall.
"You did, did ya? What did you bring to trade?"
"We brought a ham, some live chicks, and shotgun shells," Zach said, with a broad smile.
"They'll get ya some arrows maybe, but that knife sells for over three-hundred dollars, and that buckskin is worth over five-hundred. I can't let them go for some baby chicks and a ham."
Zach's smile faded. He turned to Roger.
"You know money ain't worth nothin’ anymore. What would you trade the knife and buckskin for? What do you need that you can't get anymore?" Roger asked.
Dave pursed his lips and looked to the ceiling.
"Well." Dave looked around his shop. "I don't suppose you got women to trade, so I'd have to say liquor. My supply seems to be a little low, and my source went and got himself killed a day or two back. They cleaned his sheds plum out too."
Roger smiled.
Zach looked at Roger quizzically.
"Wel
l, Dave, this is your lucky day. I'll tell you what, you throw in that ax and the quiver, and you've got a deal."
Dave's eyes lit up.
"You got shine?"
"I do."
Zach furrowed his brow and leaned close to Roger.
“We do?"
"Do you remember the convicts you guys hit at the old farmhouse? Lugnut and Rank went back and retrieved their supplies. They're in the barn," Roger whispered. "Don't tell your mom."
Zack nodded.
"Oh. Okay."
He recalled Lugnut saying that the convicts had some moonshine. He never dreamed they could use it for bartering. He hoped Lugnut and Rank wouldn't be too upset at Roger for trading with it.
"I'd say the knife is worth at least two, and the buckskin, three jars. It has to be good stuff. None of that rotgut stuff some people are making now."
"I'll give you three," Roger countered.
"Five and I'll throw in a sheath for the knife."
"Deal," Roger said, stepping over and extending his hand.
While the two men shook on it, Zach left to retrieve the ham and baby chicks from the ATV. When he looked inside the trailer, he saw a box he hadn't noticed before. He pulled the flap back, and inside were nine jars of moonshine, each secured in bubble wrap. Zach removed four jars and set them aside. He carried the box of liquor in first and set it down on the workbench.
Dave peeled back the flap on the box and whistled. His eyes lit up and his lips curled into a huge grin. He pulled a jar from the box and rolled it in his hand. He looked up with concern on his face.
"That's Tiny's shine. Wait—how’d you get that?” Dave asked, his hand dropping to his holster.
"Zach and his group took out some escaped convicts, and this was among their supplies," Roger explained.
"That all that's left of it?"
Roger grinned.
"Nope."
"Did I show you this stag-handled Damascus-steel set with the skinner knife and gut hook? And check out the fine, leather sheaths. With these babies, you can process a deer in half the time—and they will hold their edge."
"This is all we brought with us," Roger said, pointing to the box.
"If you're interested in doing more trading, you know where to find me," Dave said, twisting the lid off one jar and taking a careful sip.
A look of contentment washed over his face as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"We might be interested in some of your traps," Roger said.
Dave appeared to be contemplating the offer.
"Don't know about the traps. I need my traps. To replace them, I'd have to go play nice with Gene Mather. We aren't exactly on friendly terms."
"Maybe he'd be interested in making a trade then."
Dave looked down at the box of liquor then back to Roger.
"Don't let him jerk you around and take too many of them jars. He can be a real dick when he knows he has you by the balls. You’re gonna have to play it real cool with that bastard."
Zach looked around the shop as Dave drew them a map to Gene Mather’s place.
Since knives, arrows, and leather goods were things that could be obtained very inexpensively from China, Dave’s skills hadn’t been worth as much. Now, his skills were among some of the most valuable.
Roger folded the hand-drawn map and placed it in the side pocket of his 5.11 tactical pants before slinging a leg over the seat of the ATV. Zach started his bike and followed Roger down the drive to the main road. Roger stuck out a hand, signaling a left turn before pulling onto the roadway. Zach stopped and looked both ways before pulling out.
As he turned to look to his left, movement in the woods caught his eye. A path led through the tall grass between the road and the tree line. Zach watched for a moment. When nothing emerged from the woods, he pulled out and followed Roger.
Something pricked at the back of Zach’s mind. He looked back over his shoulder. The brief flash of brown hair under a ball cap told him it hadn't been a deer.
He's likely just hunting.
Chapter 4
The Farm
Evening Shade, Missouri
Event + 19 Days
Maddie pulled the Jeep back in to its slot between the Humvee and Zach's motorcycle. She was relieved to see both vehicles parked there, knowing that everyone had made it back safely this time. She had barely turned off the ignition when her mother appeared around the corner of the shed.
"How'd it go? Did you get to speak with the judge?" Beth asked, opening Maddie's door.
Maddie climbed out of the Jeep.
"We did. He’s going to get us a list of volunteers. We have to go back tomorrow and get everyone organized."
"What? No. I thought the judge would do that. You can't run back and forth to Houston every day," Beth said, agitation in her voice.
“He's willing to talk folks into signing up to guard the prison, but he didn't want to be in charge of running the operation. I didn't push it," Maddie said.
"I'm going to stay and take charge of the mission," Jacob said, walking around the back of the Jeep.
"What?" Beth and Maddie said in unison.
Maddie looked away. Logically, she knew he was the best choice and that was the best plan, but her heart said something different.
"I need to stay and make sure it’s done properly. There’s too much at stake."
Maddie looked up, and their eyes met. She felt her heart leap into her throat. She swallowed hard and looked away.
“You're right. You should stay and manage things. After all, you’re the county sheriff," Maddie said, turning and opening the driver's side back door.
She looked down at the Jeep's back seat. Harmony and Dawn had done an amazing job scrubbing the bloodstains from the fabric. Tears welled in her eyes remembering holding Ron's head in her lap.
"I'll ride back to my place this afternoon, then," Jacob said.
As she bent down to pick up her pack, a tear dripped onto the seat.
"Sounds good." Her tone was flat and impassive.
After throwing her pack over her shoulder, she picked up her rifle and slung the strap over her neck. She wiped a tear from her cheek and turned to follow her mom and Maria back to the cabin. She didn't even say goodbye to Jacob, who still stood by the Jeep with his hands in his pockets.
The trail through the woods between Ron's place and the cabin had been cleared of low-hanging branches, and the briars were also removed. It looked more like the trail she remembered.
When they emerged from the woods, Zach was practicing shooting arrows into a bale of hay. Ryan was seated in a lawn chair to the left of Zach, sipping lemonade, likely spiked with moonshine. Maddie had learned that the hard way. The last time she had stolen a drink from his glass was the last time she would steal a drink from anyone's glass again.
Ryan shot a hand up in greeting. One-eyed Jack lifted his head from Ryan’s lap and nudged Ryan’s other hand. Ryan stroked the fur of the little dog’s head as Maddie walked toward the house.
The swelling in his leg was down considerably. He was walking with the aid of the crutches found at the Grayson farm after their raid on the convicts who had been stealing Ron’s livestock.
Maddie pointed to Zach's new quiver of arrows.
"I guess the trading went well?"
"Yeah. Roger even got a buckskin jacket. He looks like Daniel Boone now."
Good thinking. We all should be gathering winter coats and gear.
Maddie pulled on the handle to the screen door and inhaled the scent of wood smoke and freshly baked bread. Harmony, Dawn, and Krista were busy in the kitchen. Rank was seated at the dining table peeling potatoes.
Maddie chuckled.
Good for you, Harmony. Glad to see you getting the guys to help in the kitchen.
Maddie and Maria dropped their packs in the mudroom. Maddie unslung her rifle and leaned it against the wall by the bench. Maria slung hers over her back and took a seat beside Rank. Maddie felt her jaw clench.
She'd had a crush on Rank for as long as she could remember. Even though she knew their relationship could never be anything more than friendship, she still felt a pang of jealousy seeing someone that could potentially be a genuine rival for Rank's attention.
Stop being stupid, Maddie.
"That smells amazing, ladies," Beth said, leaning over a cast-iron pot on the cook stove.
Maddie walked up behind her mother and bent over, taking in the aroma of the bubbling stew.
"It does. What is it?" Maddie asked.
"Rabbit stew," Dawn said, wiping her hands on a blue-checked apron.
Maddie glanced at Krista and Harmony. Each one wore different colored aprons.
How many aprons does Mom have?
"We butchered a litter today."
Harmony's face contorted into a look of disgust.
"This is only one of them. We smoked the others and put them in the spring house," Krista said.
The spring house had been on the property when her parents purchased the place. The remnants of an old log house still visible just up the hill from it was the only evidence of the farm’s early occupants. Ron had fixed the roof so they could use it to store the leftover beef from the steer that the convicts had killed and left lying in the field.
Maddie nodded before walking down the hall to the bathroom. She closed the door, leaned her back against it, and sighed. She was feeling overwhelmed. She didn't know why. It could’ve had something to do with so many people sharing the same small cabin, or the looming threat of hundreds of dangerous, maximum-security prisoners soon-to-be roaming free. Or it could be that she felt left out of Jacob's plan to lead the effort to secure the prison.
After washing her face and hands in the bowl sitting on the counter, she dried her hands and lowered the toilet seat. One of the drawbacks to living with so many men was that the toilet seat was always left up. She flushed and reached for the bucket to refill the tank. The water bucket was empty.
She let out a heavy sigh. Someone hadn't brought a bucket back with them when they came in from guard duty. Everyone was supposed to carry the five-gallon container from the creek back to the cabin when they finished their watch shift. Even still, they were making several trips each day to get water for cooking, laundry, and hand-washing. Showers were done outside with water from the rain barrels.