“What will replace it, then?” Beatrice added, and we could all hear the fear in her voice.
“That’s the question, and we’ll need to be ready for whatever comes,” I said, trying to sound confident. “I’ll swing by the store after we meet with the Lovetts and see what they have in stock, and what they can get. In the meantime, should we do anything with the fields right now, or wait?”
“That depends on what the weather does in the next few weeks,” Maddy replied, checking something on her clipboard. “You really think this cold trend is going to continue? And will the rains come back or not?”
Mike and I exchanged a look, and I nodded at him to field the question. We had a weather station set up for monitoring not just the temperature, but also the barometric pressure, wind speeds and dew point, but interpreting all that into a prediction was something I considered just this side of voodoo. For Mike, he’d not only read the manual but understood the processes better, as it was something he once studied. Okay, he took a few classes, but that placed him well ahead of me in that arena.
“Trend looks to be continuing cold,” Mike explained, “and we should continue to receive some rain but nowhere near what we’ve already received. That is, unless the tropical storm brewing in the Gulf turns our way. Then, well, you know what happens next.”
Beatrice placed her hands over her face.
“Not another hurricane,” she nearly wailed. “I can’t take another one this close to the last one.”
I didn’t want to tell her that we actually had three storm cells brewing in the South Atlantic and Eastern Gulf, so I kept my mouth shut. Hurricanes typically meant a stay in the shelter, and with Beatrice’s claustrophobia, that was a problem. A problem for another day, I decided.
“Alright, good meet,” I announced, leaving Mike to placate his mother-in-law like the coward I was. “Now I need to go see our neighbors, then swing by to see the County Judge about the Fitts place before going by Wilson’s.”
“Who are you taking?” Mike inquired.
“Nikki for sure. Then I thought I’d swing by and grab Wade. Why? You want to go?”
“Oh, hell no,” Mike replied. “You know me. Not exactly a diplomat. Why don’t you see if Nancy wants to go? You can pretend you’re taking her on a date. I know she’s pretty down now that the Co-Op has cut out her hours again.”
That was a great point. The local utility company had once again exhausted their ability to replace transformers and while they had a contract now with one of the timber companies to begin supplying poles again, that contract depended a great deal on the loggers regaining access to the woods. With the ground still waterlogged in many places, the skid steers and other heavy equipment would have a hard time in the mess.
I know several of the other landowners in the area followed our lead in selling their suitable timber to the co-op for poles, but our group decided to retain the rest of our own deadfalls for firewood. Not for just this winter, but for the next one. Assuming there was a break in between.
But back to the point. Nancy was now on furlough status, subject to callback. The woman had an almost pathological need to work, to keep herself busy, and Mike’s words seemed to resonate with me. Now that Nancy knew our secrets, she needed to be better utilized lest she grow bored, or frustrated.
“I’ll see if she’s interested,” I replied, already thinking about how we would proceed. Turning in my seat, I gave Cecelia a little smile.
“Thank you for bringing this to our attention,” I said simply, then shifted to get both young ladies in my line of sight. “Thank you both. This means a lot. Knowing you have a problem is the first step, and without the help and hard work done by you two, we might never have known before it was too late.”
Madelyn cheeks flashed a red of embarrassment while Cecelia gave me a small smile in return.
“I know being here is not something either of you planned,” I continued. “I just want to repeat what has been said earlier. If you decide you want to go back to Austin, or if you locate your families, just say the word and we’ll get it done.”
We’d offered before, of course. Our little slice of heaven wasn’t going to be built on the back of slave labor, after all.
I was surprised when timid Madelyn, our little Maddy, replied first. “Thank you, Bryan. You’ve all been so kind to us, but I think I can speak for Cecelia that we’ve decided to stick. I know you and your family risked a lot to rescue Cecelia, but it’s more than that. You’ve taken us in and made us feel welcome.”
“We’ll stay,” Cecelia echoed, and when she continued, her voice rose as the words spilled out. “All of you know what happened…what happened to me, but nobody tries to make me feel ashamed. Like a victim. I am a survivor, and we are all survivors here. This is the family I choose.”
Then Mike had to open his mouth and ruin the moment.
“Hell, Cece, I like that. We ought to make up bumper stickers.”
I just copied Beatrice from earlier and covered my face with my hands.
“Brother, sometimes I worry about you. Then you say things like that, and I don’t worry anymore.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“That’s a good thing, wrong,” I replied grimly, but I could see Maddy and Cecie both grinning, since they were now accustomed to the way Mike and I wailed on each other at times.
“Why isn’t it a good thing?”
“Because just in this moment of clarity,” I recited, using the same long-suffering tone Mike usually reserved for criticizing my mechanical skills, “I realize there’s no curing you, you bonehead. Momma just dropped you on your head one too many times.”
Mike, ever one to maintain his dignity, stuck his tongue out at me when he thought nobody was looking.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
As Mike suggested, Nancy was eager to get out and about after her abrupt furlough, but she frowned when I insisted everyone needed to go visibly armed. She had her pistol, of course, but I insisted she also needed to bring her rifle as well, even if we were planning to leave it in the truck. I had asked to borrow Mike’s pickup because of the carrying capacity, both in the truck bed and the second row seating. As a bonus, he had installed a rifle rack just behind the front set of seats so we could all stow and lock our long arms in place but have them readily accessible if needed. More importantly, at least to me, I still had a thought to swing by Wilson’s Feed Store and check on any fertilizers the store might have in stock, and his truck bed could hold quite a load.
The kids, both Nikki’s two and Nancy’s Lisa, had asked to go but I got to play bad cop and deny them the privilege. The memory of those dead little boys in the footwell of that old pickup was still too fresh. For their part, I could tell Nikki was pleased to get away, and Nancy didn’t disagree.
The other reason to bring Mike’s pickup was unstated, but I think at least Nikki got my reasoning. Wil and Mike had hit the truck the night before, after we got back from the Hostetler place, and they’d managed to finish the installation of the police band radio and the light bars on the front grill. I knew both men were exhausted by the time they were done, but Mike had wanted to get it done and Wil said he was too wound up to sleep. For my part, I held the light for them as they worked.
When I called Wade’s house, I was reminded that Wade and Ethan were on duty at the hospital today. Rather than pull Wil out of place, we decided to go on without a representative of the Husband household. I did receive assurances from Susanne that their family would support us with the Lovetts on the plan to close the access road and post guards. Something in her voice told me Wil had made a point of explaining what they’d seen at the Hostetler place, and why closing the road would be a good idea.
After that, there was nothing left to do but call the neighbors and see if they had time for visitors. I spoke with Lynette, Mrs. Lovett, and once I reassured her there was nothing wrong with the horses, she allowed that they were all present and willing to meet with us. I was intenti
onally vague in my explanation, simply saying I wanted to discuss security on the road.
For the visit, I made sure and wear a pair of my dark gray cargo pants, a matching button-up Western style shirt, and my new Reserve Deputy badge. I also wore the heavy jacket issued to me by Buddy Cromwell with SHERIFF’S DEPARTMENT highlighted in yellow script on the back. Nancy gave me a calculating look as she came in wearing what she’d once joked were her normal business attire: loose-fitting jeans, a flannel shirt and a cable-knit sweater over the ensemble. Like me, she opted to wear her heavy work boots. Nikki, in contrast, came out dressed in a nice pantsuit and low heels. Neither of the women wore much makeup, but I could tell my sister had done something with her hair. As I requested, both women carried the AR-15s they either owned, or in the case of Nancy, been gifted, but neither carried any spare magazines that I could see. Fortunately, I had a chest rig with slots for six spare magazines that I threw over my shoulder as we exited through the mudroom.
“What’s with the firepower?” Nancy asked as we approached the garage and Mike’s truck.
With just the three of us, and without the need for stopping to pick up Wade, I caught Nikki’s eyes and tossed her the keys while I climbed into the back bench seat. First unslinging my rifle, I dropped the magazine and used the velcro straps to secure the weapon, then repeated the process for Nikki and Nancy.
“Just the way we roll these days, any time we are leaving the home road,” I replied.
“Nobody told me,” Nancy complained in mock frustration. “Don’t we get a vote on it?”
“Nope, and I just made it up,” I replied with a little sass in my voice. Nikki saw through my attempts to play it off, though.
“This is about what happened at the Hostetlers’, isn’t it?” She asked softly as we drove through the gate and out onto the aforementioned ‘home road’.
“Yeah, part of it,” I agreed. “The fact we had an incident less than three miles away, added to the problems we’ve been hearing about in the county, just makes me jumpy, okay?”
“And that’s why the hospital run is a two-person security team, rather than just one person?” Nancy continued, drawn into the heart of the conversation.
“That’s right,” I agreed. “We know the hospital is a target, but so are the doctors and nurses going to and from. I just want us better prepared.”
“I’ll go along with that,” Nancy responded, and I saw a hint of a shiver as she spoke. “Honestly, like I told you before, I was getting a bad vibe in some areas when we were out on calls. That’s why I usually volunteered to run the loader at the yard. And I always had my pistol handy.”
“If they call you back…” I started, but Nancy held up a hand.
“You’re not the boss of me, Mr. Bossy Pants,” she shot back, suddenly giving me the juvenile attitude I might have expected from her daughter Lisa.
I couldn’t help laughing, and Nikki joined in as well.
“I can see she already has your number, big brother,” she chortled as she turned the wheel and headed up the long driveway to the Lovett house.
“I was just going to volunteer to go with you and guard your lunch pail, ma’am. Make sure your egg salad sandwich doesn’t wander off,” I replied innocently.
“We’ll see,” Nancy retorted, but I heard her murmur under her breath, “if they ever call me back.”
The visit with the Lovetts went both better and worse than I expected.
Lynette met us at the door and ushered us into the living room, where we exchanged introductions and pleasantries with Earl and their daughter, Heather. After turning down the offer of refreshments, Lynette got straight to the point.
“Bryan, you said you wanted to talk about security, and I have to say, I was surprised to see you dressed that way. And wearing a badge on top of that. What exactly did you have in mind?”
Taking the opening, I decided to get down to the most basic things first.
“I don’t know all the details and I can’t really talk about an ongoing investigation, but there was a shooting last night at Albert Hostetler’s house. Sheriff Bastrop had just sworn me in along with my brother-in-law Pat and our neighbor, Wilton Huckabee, as reserve deputies and we received the call to assist. In fact, we were the first ones on the scene.”
I paused, looking at my neighbors before continuing.
“After we talk this morning, we’re headed to a meeting with Judge Peterson to see about acquiring the Fitts property. That is part of what I meant by security.”
“What does one have to do with the other?” Earl asked, clearly confused. I saw Lynette’s expression darken, and I wondered idly if the Lovetts had designs on that piece of property for expansion.
“Byron died without heirs, and the lowlifes in the area already know the house is empty. Surely you’ve heard about the fight we had the other night, where a dozen raiders tried to take over the Husband farm?”
Heather Lovett shivered, and I saw her mother’s agitation at the perceived real estate deal fade for a moment as she reached out to her adult child.
“Yes, we heard,” Earl growled, his anger mixed with more than a little fear at the thought.
“They were actually aiming for the Fitts house and got lost. Someone named Eugene Sherwood was their guide but he missed the turnoff on the timber company road.”
“How do you know this?” Lynette asked.
“I talked to one of the raiders before he died of his wounds. He had a guilty conscience, I guess. We confirmed Sherwood’s identity, anyway. The point is, we want to do something to improve the security here on the road, and to start, we don’t want any houses sitting empty. We want to purchase the property and get people in that house.”
“You want to rent out the property?” Lynette asked cautiously, as if she was missing something.
“No, I want to invite an Army vet who is a personal friend and high school classmate of Wilton and Ethan to move his extended family into the house and act as caretakers.” I explained, then explained. “Between Shawn and his brother-on-law, that’ll give us four adults on site who can pull a trigger.”
“Isn’t that kind of cold?” Heather asked, cutting her eyes at me. Her words weren’t intended as a challenge, though. More a request for clarification.
“Miss, I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” I replied, begging for patience, “but times are not what they were before the earthquakes and hurricanes started. Sheriff Bastrop didn’t recruit us to be his Crime Scene Investigation team.”
“Why did he recruit you, Bryan?” Lynette asked, her voice going neutral and not betraying her thoughts.
“He didn’t say, but I imagine because he wanted us to officially start doing what we were already doing anyway. Killing dirtbags.”
Nikki cleared her throat, cutting me off from making anymore pithy observations.
“Mr. and Mrs. Lovett, Heather, we aren’t trying to cause problems here. But face facts, Bryan and Wade represent your only neighbors here on the road. And your property, located here at the corner parcel, is the most likely to be targeted next. We, all of us from both families, want to offer you our help.”
“What? You want to buy us out, too?” Earl asked, getting back into the conversation.
“No, sir,” Nikki replied, giving me a quelling look. “We want to work with you and your family. We want to make some suggestions to help protect your family here, and prevent your home from being overrun as well.”
“And who are you again?” Lynette asked. She was good. I couldn’t tell if her question was a challenge or a real request for more information.
“I am Bryan’s sister, but more importantly, I am Patrick Parker’s wife,” Nikki replied with an edge in her tone. “If you want to live through what’s coming, you might want to listen to what my brothers and my husband suggest.”
“And what are these suggestions?”
I was a bit surprised with Heather joining in the conversation at this juncture. At first, she seemed to have be
en shut down by my earlier comment, but now she was leaning forward, listening intently. I began to think her earlier question had been meant to trigger her mother more than it was aimed at insulting me.
“First, you need more live bodies here on your farm. I know you have at least one trainer and maybe more who live in town, correct?”
“That’s right,” Earl responded. “Bobby Panatiere and his wife work for us as trainers, and we have another man, Mike Everly, in charge of maintaining the stables and grounds.”
“Do you trust them?” I asked.
“Of course we trust them,” Lynette blustered, seemingly offended by the question.
“Then invite them out to stay on the property. There’s some safety in numbers, and there’s no way just the three of you can maintain a watch, spread out over twenty-four hours, for any length of time. I know this for a fact, since we have our own issues with manning the watch schedule, and we have many more willing hands,” I explained at some length, trying to stress the importance of this activity.
“You’ll want to start stockpiling food with more mouths to feed,” Nancy chimed in, finally joining the conversation. “And if you don’t have enough ammunition to start and finish a small war, you might want to purchase more.”
“Nope, too late for the ammo,” I interjected softly, not wanting to contradict Nancy but feeling the need to do so. “Federal Government has taken over that segment of industry, and they are buying just about every modern round being produced.”
“What?”
I got that question from several people around the coffee table. Apparently, none of them had tried to make a purchase of that flavor recently.
“Seriously, go to WalMart in Jasper or any of the local gun stores. Good luck picking up any 9mm, 40 caliber S&W, or .45 ACP. Same with 5.56 or 7.62 NATO. Don’t worry about it, though. We’d be glad to help out.”
“Help out? How? This all sounds so crazy,” Earl muttered, and then he cast a glance my way. “This is like some conspiracy theory, you know.”
Tertiary Effects Series | Book 3 | Bite of Frost Page 17