Tom closed his eyes. A ten-year-old shouldn't have to bear this kind of burden. “There's no reason to feel guilty about doing what you had to do to protect your mom.”
“I don't!” Skyler snapped, maybe a bit too fiercely. Then his shoulders slumped. “Not as much about that, at least.” Tom waited, and the boy soon continued in a pained voice. “Lisa's having a really hard time. About everything she had to see in Newpost, you know? She tries to comfort her mom and dad as much as she can, but I don't think she has anyone who's there to comfort her right now. I mean, I try, but sometimes I feel like I can't do anything.”
Tom squeezed Skyler's shoulder comfortingly. “Being there for her, letting her know you're there, does more than you think.”
“I guess.” The sandy-haired boy looked away, obviously still bothered.
It broke Tom's heart that Skyler talked about Lisa needing someone, when it was obvious he was having his own issues and also needed someone to be there for him. As did Kristy; she hid it well, but he could tell she was still dealing with the trauma of what she'd almost suffered. And with so much of her energy focused on comforting Vicky through the nightmare her friend had been through, and her guilt that she'd been spared it herself, she was effectively suffering alone.
Well, he couldn't go back and change the past, his failure to be there for the young mother and son on that night outside Newpost. But he could make up for it by being there for them now, however he could.
In a better world, they would've been spared those traumatic experiences. But this was the world they lived in, and it was Tom's job to make sure if Skyler did have to suffer from the aftermath of bad experiences in the future, at least it would be whatever emotional turmoil came from winning the fight, rather than the horrific consequences of losing.
He pushed to his feet, hefting his .308. “I had a lot of regrets, a lot of fears, after I fled my community and went into the mountains to live during the shortages,” he said quietly. “And one thing I've learned is that while the fear will never completely go away, or the pain of bad memories either, being ready to face a situation if I run into it again helps a lot.”
Solemnly, he offered the rifle to Skyler again. “So let's teach you to use this, use it in any situation. Take control of your life and learn what you need to be ready for the future. Then, no matter what happens, at least you won't have the regret that you weren't prepared for it.”
The boy nodded resolutely and took the weapon. “In that case, I'll keep practicing until I'm as good as you.”
Tom smiled and tussled his hair. “Even better someday, I hope. That's what any teacher hopes for from a student.”
Skyler lived up to his promise, too, practicing determinedly with the heavy rifle and listening closely to Tom's instruction. For the next couple mornings they spent at least a half hour practicing shooting, and even brought Skyler's AK-47, taken from the bandits outside Newpost, so the boy could get used to firing his own gun.
That is, after asking Kristy if she was okay with them resuming the shooting lessons. She seemed to be, which was no surprise considering those lessons had saved her life, and she obviously appreciated the value in her son learning to defend himself.
Speaking of the flaxen-haired woman, that was the second, and far more enjoyable, of the routines Tom kept to every day: watching the sunset together with her.
Although he'd enjoyed going out with Kristy to set snares that first morning, that was the only time she joined him and Skyler for hunting and trapping. She'd apparently decided their skills would better complement each other if she focused on things Tom wasn't already good at, such as making a comfortable home and cooking anything besides meat or simple travel meals. Which he guessed was her way of saying she wasn't enamored of waking up at the crack of dawn to go out and gut and skin furry woodland creatures.
Tom couldn't blame the young woman, although he missed her company. Still, it was a good opportunity to spend time with Skyler, and he couldn't argue that Kristy would probably have less need of those skills if he and the boy were already taking care of it.
He just needed to find other excuses to spend time with her, since with all the hard work they were doing they pretty much only saw each other for meals and jobs they were doing together, which usually didn't provide much opportunity for chitchat or enjoying each other's company.
That was probably why they got to spending longer and longer together each evening observing the tradition of watching the sunset, much to Skyler's disgust. Especially since the boy had often joined them to watch the sunset during the trip from Grand Junction, but now Kristy was gently encouraging her son to give her and Tom some time alone together.
They'd also moved their sunset watching from the top of the vantage to a secluded spot behind it, which didn't provide nearly as good a view but was more than worth the tradeoff for a bit of extra privacy; it let them spend most of their time together cuddled up without feeling self-conscious, and after their first kiss they always kissed goodnight.
In fact, they usually snuck kisses the rest of the time watching the sunset, too. On the sixth day they even toed the line with making out. But much as Tom would've liked to do more, and Kristy didn't seem entirely opposed to the notion, neither of them was the sort to carelessly rush into things.
Also, the outdoor setting certainly helped them behave.
More importantly, Tom was determined to do things properly in their relationship, and if Kristy was so inclined he was perfectly content with waiting to get frisky until they got hitched. Almost preferred it, in fact, since it showed his desire for long term commitment. The young woman seemed to feel the same, although the subject of marriage hadn't come up yet.
And maybe, in the same way he'd dragged his feet when it came to kissing her, he was postponing that discussion as well to simply enjoy what they had right now. Even though he was starting to hope that a wedding was a foregone conclusion; he'd happily admit he was head over heels in love with Kristy, and was starting to believe it might be possible she felt the same way.
At the end of the week, they finished the roof of the Hendricksons' small cabin, as well as chinking the walls. More importantly, Brandon showed up unexpectedly for a visit around noon, to check up on them and report on how he and the Williamsons and the others from the convoy who'd stayed in Emery were doing.
He also pulled Tom aside for a moment, speaking in a low voice. “Sheriff Mitchells wanted me to let you know he found a Geiger counter.”
Tom felt a surge of excitement; in spite of his impatience to get his hands on one of those devices, this was quicker than he'd expected. “Any specifics?”
The young man snorted. “It's going to run you half an ounce of silver a day while you have it, and five extra if you run down the battery.”
Well, the sheriff hadn't been lying about the cost: that was pretty extortionate. Tom wouldn't be able to afford it if Miles's cache turned out to be dangerous after all. Speaking of which . . . “Don't suppose he mentioned if he'd found hazmat suits?”
“Oh yeah, he can get you some of those for a couple silver ounces each,” Brandon replied. “People like to have one around, but nobody's going out of their way to put themselves in a situation where they actually know they'll need it, right?”
“Good to hear.” He clapped the young man on the shoulder. “You're just in time to join us for lunch. Come on, let's eat.”
They all gathered together at a makeshift table they'd made near the cooking area on the flat, where Kristy wanted to make a proper table or two so everyone could get together for meals. As Tom settled down next to the flaxen-haired woman he leaned close to her ear. “What do you think about taking a trip to Utah Valley soon?”
She gave him a delighted look. “The Sheriff found what you were looking for?” He nodded, and she practically bounced up and down on the log bench in eager anticipation. “Let's go, then!”
“I'll let everyone know after we finish eating,” he offered.
&n
bsp; Kristy nodded, taking his hand under the table and squeezing it tight. “This is really happening, isn't it?”
It seemed to be, and Tom had to admit he was excited too.
As they ate, Brandon let them know that the others still in Emery were all doing fine, and also shared the good news about him, Fiona, and Logan finding work with the Knudsens. Tom vaguely knew that extended family, a veritable clan who owned a string of farms just north of Emery as well as a few houses in town. They were influential in the community, but he couldn't recall speaking to any of them beyond a few shared words at Neal's or Brady's on his infrequent visits into town.
Aside from that minor incident with Horse years ago, of course. His first mount of that name, that is.
Still, if they'd welcomed in the young man and the Williamson siblings they were okay in Tom's book. In fact, when he broached the subject to Brandon about hiring him on to build the barn, he went so far as to suggest the young man approach any of the Knudsens who wanted temporary work helping them.
“Speaking of which . . .” he added, glancing at Kristy. She grinned eagerly in response, so he stood and tapped his cup of water with his steak knife, drawing a few amused looks along with everyone's attention. “Just wanted to let you all know, me and Kristy are thinking of heading up to Utah Valley before long to do some business.”
The others looked at him in surprise. “Business you can't do in Emery?” Bob asked, showing what seemed like undue interest.
Tom nodded. “Like I mentioned when we were planning out the barn, I was thinking we could get into ranching to support ourselves. I want to look around up there, see if anyone's selling livestock.” Which was true, if not the whole truth since he wasn't planning to actually purchase any animals until spring.
At least, not unless a fantastic deal presented itself.
This news caused an even greater stir among the others as they looked at each other. Bob whistled. “Livestock's pricey. I know we've got what's left from selling the trucks, but are you sitting on a fortune we didn't know about?”
Tom did his best not to glance at Kristy. “A bit,” he hedged. “That's why I want to head up there to check prices.”
His friend nodded thoughtfully, and finally revealed why he'd been so interested. “Mind if my family tags along?”
He glanced at Kristy, who looked equally surprised by the unexpected request. But she just shrugged, so he nodded. “Don't see why not. Want to visit friends up there?”
Bob hesitated, glancing at Vicky. “Sure. Mostly want to look into finding a doctor. Vicky's been feeling under the weather.”
Tom couldn't say he was surprised at that, given how pale and listless the petite woman had been, especially lately. What was more surprising was that Kristy also seemed taken aback by that news, considering it involved her best friend.
But since it obviously treaded close to a painful subject he let the matter drop. “All right. We've been talking about going but hadn't set a concrete time. How does sometime in the next few days sound?” The flaxen-haired woman nodded her agreement, and Bob shrugged, so Tom clapped his hands. “That's settled, then. Since you're here, Brandon, maybe you could take a look at the dimensions we've paced out for the barn, see what you think.”
The young man nodded and took a few last hasty bites of his food, then hopped up and joined him. Tom led the way over to where he'd used rocks and bits of wood to lay out the outline for the building, as well as gouging furrows with his heel. “So . . .” the young man said as they walked around looking at everything. “You're planning to go into ranching?”
“If it's workable.” Tom glanced over at him. “What do you think? If we end up with a lot of animals we might need more help than we've got. How'd you like to be a ranch hand?”
He had a feeling he was writing checks he might not be able to cash, not that checks had really existed as a thing since the Ultimatum. Come to think of it, they hadn't been all that common before, either, or at least he hadn't needed to use them much. But he owed Brandon first chance at the opportunity, given how his friend had proven himself on the trip back to Emery.
Besides, it was worth it to see the young man brighten at the prospect. “I think I could probably get into that life,” he admitted with a grin.
* * * * *
Vicky was sick?
Sure, Kristy had known the poor woman was justifiably having difficulty getting past what had happened in Newpost. But she hadn't realized her friend was suffering to the point of illness.
The news troubled her as Brandon, looking at a half day's hike back to Emery and wanting to get there before dark, shook hands all around and set off, promising to let Brady know that they were going to need to hold off on selling the wagon after all.
And it continued to trouble her as everyone got back to work, which for Kristy, Vicky, and Lisa was laundry and mending clothes. They'd done it just after arriving, washing out weeks of dust and grime from the trip from Grand Junction, but after over a week of hard work it was past due time to wash them again.
As they knelt beside the stream, pounding wet cloth on rocks with soapsuds drifting downstream, she shot frequent glances at the petite woman. She wanted to broach the subject, but at the same time wasn't sure how to bring up something like that. Especially when Vicky was still in such a delicate state after her trauma.
So Kristy ended up saying even less than usual, which wasn't particularly helpful to her friend and just made her feel even more helpless and guilty about having been spared the horrors of Newpost while everyone else had suffered. And frustrated that she was having such irrational feelings.
To comfort herself, she made plans for how she'd use Miles's scavenged treasure to help the women who hadn't been so fortunate. That, and she resolved to be there for them however they needed it. Starting with Vicky.
So the next time her friend ran off for one of her private freakouts, Kristy let her go, then followed after her. Maybe it was the wrong choice, but if Vicky needed a good cry every now and then Kristy at least wanted to offer her shoulder. Let her know she didn't have to suffer alone.
Only it looked as if crying wasn't the plan.
Kristy slowed in following her friend into a nearby copse of trees when she heard the unmistakable sound of retching. She kept going, wide-eyed, to find the petite woman hunched over clutching a tree, emptying her guts with some of the most heart-wrenching sounds of misery she'd ever heard.
Vicky finally coughed a few times, then slumped against the tree and began to weep.
At that point, Kristy remembered herself and rushed forward to throw her arms around her friend. “Oh sweetie,” she soothed, stroking her dark hair. “I'm sorry you're not feeling well.” Her friend cried even harder at that, and she held her closer. “It's okay, it won't last forever. You'll feel better in no time.”
For some reason that made Vicky wail, her whole body shaking with wracking sobs. “N-not any-anytime soon,” she hiccuped.
Kristy stared at her in bewilderment, then realization sank in: pale, wan, disappearing, especially in the mornings, probably to throw up. “You're pregnant!” she gasped. Her friend wailed again and buried her face in her neck, shuddering. “Why didn't you tell me? How far along are you?”
It took Vicky so long to answer that she almost wondered if she was going to. “Not far enough,” she finally moaned.
It took even longer to decipher that, and then Kristy's face went numb with horror. And suddenly it made sense why her friend had been trying to hide this from her, from everyone. Why she was treating it like the end of the world.
“Oh Vicky,” she murmured, hot tears burning in her eyes as her heart broke for the poor woman.
Vicky was already struggling to pick up the pieces of her shattered life, after spending weeks as a prisoner of those bandits in Newpost and having unspeakable things done to her. To find that she was carrying a child from it had to be a continuation of that nightmare. One that probably felt as if it would never end.
How could the world be so cruel?
Unfortunately, it was. Kristy couldn't speak for the women who'd stayed behind in Grand Junction when Tom led the convoy to Emery, since there'd been no sign of pregnancies among them when they left. But of the women who'd come with them, at least two others had turned out to be pregnant as well.
Perhaps it was a small mercy it was so few; it would've been a sad but expected result of what had been done to them, but the starvation and brutal mistreatment in they'd suffered in Newpost wasn't exactly conducive to healthy pregnancies. In fact, one of the women who'd returned with them had become very ill under odd circumstances not long after her condition was discovered, after which it was no longer a concern.
Rumors abounded about what had happened, and one of the few times someone was rude enough to ask the woman about it she'd called it a miscarriage. But Kristy had her doubts about that, although she wasn't sure it was anyone's place to talk about it.
Or judge, for that matter.
The other woman suffering that ordeal had flat out announced that if she could terminate this pregnancy that was a product of rape, she would. And failing that, she'd do her best to give the child up for adoption. The bandits had already done their best to destroy her life, she wasn't going to allow their horrific acts to hang over her head for the rest of it.
And now Vicky was facing that same fate. As was her family. “Does Bob know?” she asked quietly.
Her friend shuddered. “I think he suspected from the beginning, although I couldn't bring myself to talk to him about it. It's just so awful, all of it, and he's been hurting enough. But I'm sure he knows now, since he wants us to go with you to Utah Valley to look for a doctor. And I couldn't agree more.”
Kristy hugged her friend tighter at that thought. The implications of seeking a doctor were fairly obvious, since she highly doubted the couple wanted to find one for prenatal care. And she couldn't blame them in the slightest for seeking that option.
Mountain Man (Book 2): Homecoming Page 8