Rendered (Irrevocable Series Book 1)

by Samantha Jacobey

  The woman with the sheets and blankets busily placed pans on the table, and the group of males began serving their plates. Sliding quietly into a seat next to one of her brothers so that she faced the old man, the girl breathed deeply, trying to make heads or tails of the strange scene before her. Unexpectedly, two more men came in and filled plates, exiting through the far door that led into the kitchen.

  “Who the hell are all these people?” Bailey blurted, her eyes wide.

  “Friends, family,” her uncle spoke, his mouth full of food before he swallowed it. “You’ll do good to keep your trap shut an’ your eyes open, little bit.”

  She grimaced, displeased that the older man had taken to using her new nickname versus the old one—not an improvement in her estimation. Scowling at the dishes, she prepared her plate and began to eat, discovering that the meal tasted much better than it appeared. The gathering spoke little, leaving the boys to make up much of the noise that filled the room. As soon as the pair was finished, they pushed back their seats, eager to have a bit of time outside before bed.

  Left alone with the adults, Bailey laid her fork across her empty plate. “So, do I at least get an introduction?”

  After a moment of silence, the black man showed her the pink palm of his right hand in a small wave. “Devon McWilliams.”

  She nodded slightly, then shifted her gaze to the gentleman to his left.

  “Nung Ceu.” He tilted his head towards her.

  “Hi.” She exhaled through her nose loudly. “I’m Bailey.” She looked at the older, silver-haired man across from her.

  “James Fox. Call me Jim.” His teeth clicked when he spoke. “This’s ma wife, Connie.” He indicated the woman at the end of the table.

  Her eyes shifting between the faces, she mumbled, “See? That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

  The woman cleared her throat loudly and stood, gathering plates to take them to the kitchen. Following suit, Bailey lifted her own and those of her brothers, carrying them through the doorway. Continuing the process, the girl helped the woman clean up after the meal and put the utensils away while thinking to herself, this is the maid’s job, but suspecting they didn’t have one.

  While they worked, Bailey could hear the men talking in hushed voices before they moved outside. A short time later, her brothers came in, stomping up the stairs, and headed to their bath. Her uncle trod behind, herding them on their way and tucking them into their beds shortly thereafter.

  She followed the sound of their giggles, locating their room on the second floor. Making her way inside under the pretense of bidding them goodnight, she was shocked to find their space had once again been fully stocked for their arrival.

  “Wow,” she breathed. “Pretty neat stuff you have here.” Her eyes slid easily across the bunk beds they had crawled into and the bookcase that took up an entire wall, its shelves packed with books and boy-toys. “Was all this here the first time you came?” she queried nonchalantly.

  “Sure was!” Jess provided eagerly. “All for us,” he added with pride.

  Her gaze fell upon their guardian, who tucked a boy in the bottom bed, then she gave Jase a pat on the back in the top. “You guys sleep well. We have a busy day tomorrow.” He smiled at them, and the trio seemed perfectly happy, with or without the frowning female in the room.

  Moving out into the hall, Bailey waited for her uncle to exit. She leaned on the banister and stared down at her trembling hands, the living area on the first floor below them. When he came out to stand beside her, she could feel the fear seize her lungs, and she could not bring herself to ask the questions that burned inside her mind. Instead, she simply bade him good night and took the stairs to the third floor.

  Gathering her night clothes, she made her way to the bathroom for a quick shower. Prepared for bed, she returned to her room, locking her door before she stretched out on top of her covers. Lying in the darkness, she listened to the screech and whine of the windmill outside her window, her mind filled with dark and harrowing thoughts and ideas.

  This was no ordinary ranch, and these were no ordinary people. She knew that they had not wanted her there; her reception had been cold and most unwelcoming. Their behavior towards her felt odd, setting off little alarm bells in the back of her mind, and for the first time, the thought occurred to her. I may not make it out of here alive.

  The following morning, Bailey awoke early to the sound of boots on hardwood. Her eyes opened wide, staring about at the ceiling above; her heart raced, certain they were right outside her door. After a moment, the pair of footwear ambled down the hall, and she tossed back her covers. Springing out of bed, she dressed hurriedly before making her way to the bathroom to pee and put on her makeup.

  Finally decent, she made her way downstairs, where the rest of the house and then some were busy consuming breakfast. She noted Caleb’s presence, along with a boy with fiery red hair—his younger brother, Carson, she presumed. The middle-aged couple was more than likely their parents, as the woman looked very much like the two boys.

  As soon as the meal had been consumed, all of the men disappeared, taking the boys with them while leaving Bailey with the women. Once the dishes had been washed and put away, Martha Cross offered her name and instructed the girl to follow her so they could get started on the garden before the heat of the day.

  Reluctantly, the girl followed, and they crossed the dirt path to arrive at a large nursery filled with young plants. Passing through the structure, the field in back of it turned out to be a solid acre square. She had scarcely noticed the rows from her window the afternoon before, but standing in the midst of them took her breath away.

  Martha handed her a set of hand tools and led her over to a row of green beans. Instructing her how to clear out the weeds without damaging the crop, she put the girl to work.

  Bailey obediently threw herself into the task, unsure if or how she would challenge the authoritative way the round woman who stood a few inches shorter than her spoke. Martha simply assumed her directions would be followed, and so they would be.

  Working diligently, sweat began to drip from her face and brow. Swiping across it, Bailey noticed that much of her makeup wound up on her arm. She looked around to discover that the field had become dotted with a handful of other women, all wearing straw hats and stooped over, working on various areas of vegetation.

  Martha observed the auburn-haired beauty from the shade of the building a short time later. She knew that the girl wasn’t supposed to be there; it had been discussed several times at meeting, and it had been a consensus that she did not, nor would she ever, belong. And yet, here she was, kneeling down in their field, digging up weeds. Reaching over, she lifted a spare hat off of its nail next to the door and carried it out to her, along with a jug of water.

  “Here,” she stated in monotone. “Broughtcha surprise.” She offered the items, watching the girl stand, and noting the red flush to her face.

  Bailey accepted the hat, using her long fingers to smooth her hair and the covering to hold it in place. Taking the jug, she hoisted it and chugged a copious amount before returning the lid. “How long do we do this?” she demanded, less afraid of the woman who appeared to be in charge.

  “’Til lunch,” Martha replied crisply. “Few more hours.” She grinned, turning to make her way across the field and check on the progress of the rest of that morning’s workers.

  Bailey watched her picking her way through the rows, grateful for the cover that eased the heat and glare of the sun. Returning to her knees, she observed her palms that had already become raw from the rub of the tools against them. Taking up her tiny fork and spade, she worked her way down the line. When she reached the end, she looked back to discover that another girl followed behind, picking up the foliage that she had uprooted and placing it in a bucket.

  When the sun shone straight down upon them, Martha stood in the shade of the long structure, calling loudly to the scattered group. Each gardener gathered her tools
and made her way to the front for a brief gathering, where she introduced the newcomer to the others. “Bailey, these are the Burns and the Smalls.”

  Going down the line, their names rolled easily off her tongue: Lacy Burns and her daughters, Amber and Rebecca, who all three had ebony colored hair, with bottomless brown eyes and deeply tanned skin. The other three, Deanna Small and her daughters Alexya and Kimber, had fair skin, which they kept well covered in the blistering heat.

  Bailey observed that the latter three also had pale blue eyes and hair that went from medium brown on the oldest, to lighter brown, and eventually to honey blond on the youngest. The group was not overly welcoming but at least polite, and the girl felt glad she had not thrown a fit about being made to work in the field. She gave them a weak smile, grateful when they dismissed her to return to her residence to freshen up before lunch.

  Trudging up the stairs a few minutes later, Bailey couldn’t think of a time she had ever worked so hard. Making it to the bathroom, she glared into the mirror in disgust. Her makeup appeared severely smeared and outright missing across large portions of her face. No wonder Caleb said I wouldn’t need it, she grumbled to herself before she washed off the remainder of it.

  The water and soap stung her fresh blisters, and she bit her trembling lip while she dried them. Flexing her digits a few times, she allowed a few tears before she wiped them away, unwilling to let the people around her see her suffering. Her features set firmly, she exited the cubicle and made her way to the kitchen, where the meal had been prepared.

  Once again, Connie placed dishes on the long flat surface in the dining room, and the men seemed to materialize out of thin air. This time, the boys were served plates at the kitchen table so that the two men Bailey had not previously met could join them. Glancing down the row, she only had to wonder for a moment who they might be before they introduced themselves.

  The one seated immediately to her left grinned broadly. “Hi, I’m Luis Montez,” he announced with a sparkle in his mahogany-colored eyes.

  The man next to him grunted, “Don Finch,” without bothering to look up from his plate.

  Bailey felt out of place, listening to them discuss their day’s progress, as well as the chores they would be tackling in the afternoon. She had never imagined people who lived or worked as hard as these appeared to, and she felt a bit forlorn in the midst of them.

  Still not sure how or why they had chosen such a life, she pondered her new situation, having many questions and few answers at the moment. However, being the new girl in town, she had decided to take her uncle’s advice, keeping her mouth shut and her ears open and hoping she would figure things out.

  Nineteen

  Jealous Much?

  After her first day in the field, it became obvious that Bailey Dewitt was Martha’s charge. Whatever the woman worked on, the girl gave a hand, and she did so without argument. The structures she had seen the day she arrived turned out to be barns and pens, where horses and farm animals were housed, and although she did not work inside with the animals, she did learn how to process them into food.

  They slaughtered a large hog the second day after she arrived, and she spent one full day and several afternoons at the diner, learning how to prepare the meat for curing into hams, pickling it, or canning it for long term storage. The stench of the blood hung in the air, and she felt sick at the sight of chunks of flesh tumbling out of the grinder for sausage. In the end, she had been grateful she had not been present for the actual butchering of the carcass.

  The woman gave the girl directions matter-of-factly, staring at her while she worked with almost beady brown eyes. Bailey noted that she did not hold idle conversation with her and appeared uninterested in learning anything about her previous life. Another woman from town came in to help, bringing her daughters, but they too refrained from making idle chit chat.

  Instead, the women watched a large screen television that hung on the back wall of the dining room, listening to the news from the outside. Bailey had discovered it to be the only one in the community, other than the one they had brought for the games, and it never displayed anything else. During the processing of the hog, she began to make a better connection between the lives of the people who surrounded her and the beliefs that they held most dear.

  The initial incident occurred the morning of the fourth day, when a large volcano in Baja erupted, sending the small group of women into a mild frenzy. Word spread quickly through the small community, and Bailey could see the genuine concern on everyone’s face while they ate their lunch. Laughing at the group to herself, she found the idea amusing. What, do they think one little volcano is going to destroy us?

  She allowed the question to percolate in her thoughts but refrained from asking it aloud, as she had become accustomed to gathering her information about the group by observation only. These people are nuts. She snickered at them under her breath, but as their virtual prisoner, it seemed wise to keep the impression to herself.

  That afternoon, while helping in the diner with the hog, Bailey saw and heard the broadcasts and began to feel a bit of fear herself. Shocked by what the media was putting out, she began to see the situation more clearly. With this as their only window to the world, their view of society is so bleak, so distorted.

  Constantly feeding on the dark stories that bring ratings has made them overly sensitive. Things that the rest of humanity saw as normal were blown out of proportion on The Ranch. Of course, it’s not entirely their fault. They need a better source of information and a bit of balance, that’s all, she rationalized. This realization did nothing to improve her opinion of the community as a whole, and she went to bed that night with much to ponder.

  Her routine in place, the girl awoke with the sun each day and ate her breakfast with her brothers and the rest of the household. She then worked in the field until lunch, followed by helping in the diner for the afternoon and most evenings.

  Bailey resented the amount of time and energy that they asked of her but did so in silence. She could see that no more was asked of her than any of the others, and to complain would have been rude in the least and perhaps dangerous in the midst of the social order she could see coming into focus around her. By the end of the first week, she had fallen into obedient submission, in awe of what actually took place at The Ranch.

  The evening on the seventh day, she was finally allowed time to herself, and she took advantage of the few hours alone. Having been curious since her arrival, the girl traversed the entire circumference of the small township. Following the massive twelve-foot brick wall, she appreciated the fresh air after her chores in the cramped and odor-filled space where they prepared the food.

  Making a trek around the dirt paths that crisscrossed the landscape, she wryly considered how it brought new meaning to the term gated community. Measuring it off by counting the bricks, she determined the barrier ran about twenty-five hundred feet east to west and fifteen hundred north to south; in essence, the place was huge.

  While she made her way back to the ranch house, she noted that the two small turbine groups held six total and that all of their electricity came from wind power. In addition, there were three water wells with windmills atop them, so the water tower stayed stocked by local resources as well. She stared up at them in fascination, wondering if there was in fact anything that they needed from the outside world.

  Silently eating her dinner while surrounded by her housemates, she considered the plethora of trees scattered across the grounds. One area, next to the diner, held what they generally referred to as the orchard, but fruit trees could be found anywhere that shade was desirable.

  She had discovered more than a few dozen fruit-bearing trees, including a variety of types, lying next to buildings and along the pathways. A group of grapevines grew in one corner of the compound, and a pair of massive pecan trees stood one at each end of the horse arena and feed barn. Many of these had been planted when her Uncle Pete and Aunt Brenda first began working
on the property over twenty years ago.

  Creating a mental tally of what she observed, the girl presumed that the group had become completely self-sufficient, as the food being produced was easily more than they were consuming. In the end, she calculated that the amount stored in the cabinets of the ranch house and the other family dwellings to only be a small part of what actually existed; in essence, they were hiding it somewhere, and she secretly wondered why.

  Secretly, because she had no intention of asking what became of the rest. She had quickly determined that no one had much to say to her, and she grasped the concept that they viewed her as an outsider. She would have to prove her worth among the group as Caleb had said or she wouldn’t be welcome, and none appeared too eager to get to know her.

  Her brothers swept away to their baths, Bailey made her way up to her room and stretched out across her bed to listen to the quiet and the moan of the giant machine outside. I’ve only been here a few days, but it feels so much longer, she lamented. How in the hell do these people do it? Exhausted, she allowed her eyes to close and fell asleep before she could have her own shower for the night.

  Her days continued to pass in a similar manner, doing whatever chore was presented to her, always trying to keep her chin up about the forced labor. She also watched for ways and things that she might use to her advantage but so far had been unsuccessful. She wanted to take her brothers and leave, but how she could accomplish that feat had still not presented itself. Even her cell phones refused to work, getting no signal, and she almost felt as if they had become lost to the outside world.

  The second week of their internment ended with the boys’ tenth birthday, and a huge celebration took place at the diner. For the first time, Bailey was able to observe the entire community gathered at one place at the same time, thirty-three members total counting herself and her siblings.