“And as I told this fine council before, that should be an option of last resort. Taking the cattle into an unprotected valley is an unacceptable risk if we can afford to take fodder from someplace else,” said Lefton. “Even if you don't worry about goners, and I assure you that you are fools if you don’t, then you have to agree that the valley would be perfect for nomad bands. Have you forgotten that the Black Dogs came from that valley? I swear, you people are the most…”
“Mr. Lefton may be right,” said Jake, cutting the Rancher off before he said anything that might inflame his fellow councilmen. Lefton, for his part, looked simultaneously annoyed at the interruption and delighted that someone had finally taken his side. “It may be unwise for anyone to head into the northern valley this summer.”
“Why, Jake? Did you see something on your trip to Three Ponds?” asked Jay Carpenter cautiously.
“Yes,” said Jake simply. “Mr. Lefton, would you mind giving us the room? It is my duty to inform the Council of what I found. You will be informed before you leave, you have my word.”
Lefton made a sour face. “I don’t see why. We’re supposed to be allies, or at least that’s what you people keep telling me. But if it means I might get the extra fodder the herds need, I can be reasonable. I’m gonna hit the sack; give you worthy gentlemen time to figure out how you’ll spin the Scout Captain’s story to me.” Without waiting for a response, the Rancher left the room, closing the door behind him.
“I don’t know if that man will ever know how lucky it is that you came in when you did, Jake,” said Jay, scowling. “I was about to shoot the son of a whore.”
“We were getting ready to adjourn for the night, Captain, when John brought news you had returned,” Townsend said, ignoring Jay’s grumbling. “At least, he saw a Scout heading this way, and we all figured you were the only one crazy enough to be out in this storm. We decided we had all better stay and get the good word from our brothers in Three Ponds. Has the sickness passed?” From the edge in his voice, the Mayor knew the word would not be good. As much as Jake disliked the man, Townsend was nobody’s fool.
Neither was Jay Carpenter, and he didn’t bother with the pleasantries. “You were supposed to be gone a day, and it’s been four. And you return in the worst blizzard of the season. How bad is it?”
“Bad,” Jake said tonelessly. “We may need to trap our own furs from now on. I figure them that make it will be down once the snow clears.”
Townsend edged his chair away from Jake. “Should…should you be in quarantine?”
“I’ll be fine. If I was going to get what they had, I would be burning with fever by now.”
“What the hell happened?”
Jake sighed. “What happened was, people got scared. They saw their neighbors getting sick, really sick, and didn’t want to go near them, even though it wasn’t catching. They had gotten sick from the water; a group of them hadn’t been boiling it like they should. The sick people died. These people lived off by themselves and their dead didn’t get burned. They fell on their neighbors in the night, but no one did anything because everyone was hunkered down in their own rooms, mistaking the moaning for the sounds of sick people. The damned goners had two days in that building, everyone else staying away because of the sickness. They should have known there was a threat..." Jake trailed off, not wanting his voice to betray the anger he was felt when he thought of what had happened. Damn them, they should have known better!
“By the Mother, Jake, tell me you’re joking!” That was Marolt. Jake forgave him the hint of disbelief in his voice. He’d probably had never seen a goner in his life. There were a lot less of them these days; people knew to burn their dead, and Scouts and Longshooters generally kept them away from the townships proper.
“How many are left?” asked Roger, his voice paper thin.
“Eight men, twelve women, half a dozen children.”
Townsend leaned back in his chair, his oily smile gone. “By the Mother….there were over two hundred people in that township!”
“Two hundred fifty eight. At least, that’s what Mayor Greenburgh told me. He didn’t make it, either,” said Jake.
“What about their Longshooters? Their scouts? Where the hell were they?!” demanded Planter, his voice faintly pleading.
“Three Ponds never had a lot of either,” interjected Carpenter. “They didn’t like having them around, and it’d been thirty years since anything more than one or two goners have been seen up here.”
Jake nodded. “Them that were there helped, but by the time the real fighting started there were enough to be a proper herd. Most of the fighting ended up being up close. Then we had to go house to house and put people out of their misery, the few of them that were left.“ An image of Edith Rosewood flashed in his mind, thanking him even as his axe came down. He suddenly felt as if he were going to vomit. He began taking long, deep breaths to steady himself.
“How many of them do you think got away?” asked Jay. Zeke Marolt looked at Jay aghast; clearly, that thought had not occurred to him yet.
“Them that are left in Three Ponds are trying to account for everyone,” said Jake, “but I know at least a few of them got away. I came on Ella Rosewood at Sardy. I put her down, but it was too windy to burn the body.”
Roger gave a long, shuddering sigh. “That poor girl. I hear she was very sweet.”
Actually, the only Three Ponders that had thought that Ella was sweet happened to be males between the ages of eighteen and twenty five; the rest had thought her an insufferable snob. But Jake had no desire to speak ill of the dead. “If she got out, and got that far, there will be more once the thaw sets in,” he said instead.
“Have you sent a scout out to tell the Ranchers about this yet?” asked Jay.
“No. There isn’t much we can do until the storm passes, anyway. And since Lefton is here, he can let them know when he rides back north.”
“I suppose you’re right,” said Townsend. “We should figure out how to tell everyone, anyway, before we let this get out.”
“We should decide that as quickly as possible, then,” said Roger. “There will be some panic no matter what we do. If a rumor gets out, it’ll likely be ten times as bad as the truth. It’ll fan the flames.”
“Agreed. Especially in the younger folk. Hell, no one has even seen a goner around here in almost twenty years,” said Jay.
“The Scouts have,” Jake interjected. “But you’re right… even when we do, it’s out in the woods, and it’s only one or two. If a full band got out Three Ponds, twenty or more… some people aren’t going to be able to handle that.”
“Or some will charge off half cocked to put them down,” said Jay. “Some of my younger recruits are like that. I bet you have some in your outfit, too, Jake.”
Jake nodded. “Yeah, I have some hotheads. The important thing to stress is that the Scouts and the Longshooters have plans for this. I’m pretty sure we could handle it if all of Three Ponds rose.”
“We could protect Aspen Vale AND the Ranch?” asked Zeke.
Jake hesitated, but Jay Carpenter did not. “If the band is twenty strong, even fifty, our scouts will be able to pick a few off, let the Longshooters know what’s coming and where. If it is any larger…some WILL slip through the cracks. We’ll have casualties. But both the townships are big enough, and prepared enough, that they’ll survive. And the cattlemen have fighters, too.”
“And most men my age know how to take down a goner with an axe or a hoe. They can teach the younger ones. High time they knew that, anyway,” Jake added. He was going to say more, but he suddenly gave a yawn.
Townsend nodded. “Alright, I think we’ve done enough for tonight, and Captain Larkin is about to fall over. We’ll adjourn for tonight, and revisit this first thing in the morning. And we’ll prepare a statement, telling people to boil their damned water like they should.” Townsend paused for a moment, and then continued. “There is another matter for you tomorrow morning, too, Jak
e. We have a Scout from Fort Kenosha, arrived about three days ago. Said he wanted to talk to you, personally.”
“Fort Kenosha?! That’s a hell of a hike during the winter!” Jake exclaimed. If anything, that was an understatement. Fort Kenosha was situated at the top of Kenosha Pass, looking down into Jefferson Valley. As the crow flies, it was only about 60 miles between the Aspen Valley and the Jefferson. The problem was, men couldn’t fly over the high ridge of mountains separating the two. In the summer, there were some elk trails you could take, but in the winter? You’d probably have to hike the entire length of the Jefferson valley to Beyuna Vista, then up the narrow canyon to Twin Lakes, over Independence Pass, then the remaining twenty plus miles to Aspen Vale on a narrow ridge. In the middle of February, even as mild as this winter had been, that would be suicide for most men.
“Yes, that’s what we thought, too,” said Roger, reading Jake’s face. He had always been able to do that. “We expect he doesn’t have good news either. Or else he’s just crazy. Or both.”
“My bet is on both. I’ve heard strange things about the Kenoshans,” said Marolt.
Jake shrugged. “I haven’t been to Kenosha in ten years, and that was in the summer. They’re a hard folk, and they have some strange ways. The Ranchers would know more.”
“Good point. Wish I had thought of that; we could have got Lefton’s input,” Townsend said softly. “Well, the Three Ponds situation has to be our first priority. We’ll expect a full report from you tomorrow afternoon. It’d be best if we had a plan in place by the time mud season starts.”
“Alright,” said Jake wearily; he had hoped for at least a day to recover from his ordeal, but that wasn’t in the cards, it would seem.
“Sorry, Jake. No rest for the wicked, and that sure as hell includes us here,” said Jay. “Now, go home. See your family. Give Beth a kiss for me.”
“If we’re giving Beth kisses, I get to go first!” said Roger playfully.
“Hey, I’m the one who has to deal with her elbows at night. First kiss is mine,” said Jake. The banter was forced, but somehow it made Jake feel better anyway, like the ghost of normalcy.
“Well, then, this meeting is adjourned,” said Townsend, getting up. Jake went over to help Roger out of his chair. The old man had a room in the building; on the second floor, so he could have a fire going and could avoid the stairs as much as possible. Jay came over to help, but Roger waved both of them away.
“I can handle myself,” the Town Elder said firmly. “Both of you, get to your beds. Get some sleep. You’re gonna need to be fresh tomorrow.” Jake very much doubted that he would be fresh tomorrow no matter how much he slept, but smiled and nodded anyway.
Chapter 2
“So, the news is better than we had thought.”
“Oh? Good; I could use some good news after the chewing out I just got.”
“I snuck into the town last night to look at what’s left of the subjects. We were lucky enough that some of them had bullet wounds, center mass. All of them showed that the fluid loss was negligible. That part works, at least.”
“Didn’t think the yokels bothered aiming for center mass.”
“They don’t. They probably just missed. But it’s good news for us.”
“Well, that IS some good news. When I relay it, he’ll almost certainly want to go to Phase Two.”
“I figured. I’m already scouting the best location.”
The lights were on at Jake’s house as he skied up to the door. The storm had not abated, and his furs were soaked and freezing, but he still felt warmer as he saw his own front door. It was a fairly large house, sort of octagonal with an entry way built to the front, and wings coming off at either side. He often felt like it was TOO large for just one family, but it was also the headquarters of the Scouts. An entire wing was devoted to being a meeting room for the service’s get-togethers, and had been since the days of his father's predecessor. At some point the roof of the octagon had been made flat; it made a great vantage point. Keeping snow off of it in the winter was a real pain in the ass, but if the School ever fell, this house would be as good a place as any to make a stand.
He stopped in front of the door and knocked. The pattern he always used was one his grandfather had taught him. “Shave and a Haircut, Two Bits.” Supposedly, before the Awakening, the piggies had paid people to cut their hair. Jake had no idea why they wouldn’t just do it themselves, or what paying two bits actually entailed, but it made for a good knock. The Gone might pound on a door, but they never pounded musically.
He heard a high pitched squeal from inside the house. The stomp of running feet to the door made him smile, which was exactly the face he wanted to show his daughter when she opened up the door and sprang into his arms. “Daddy!” she squealed, giving him the biggest hug her four year old frame could muster before leaning back to make a face at him. “You stink,” she informed him.
“Well, then, I better come inside and get these smelly clothes off, then!” he laughed, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “And how’s my little munchkin?”
“Not tired!” the munchkin in question exclaimed, giving him another tight hug to prove as much. She then ran into the living room. “Mommy, Mommy, Daddy’s home!”
Jake grinned and began to peel off his furs again. Little Katie had been right; they DID smell, like wet dog . He was still wearing the wool shirt the kid at the Angle had given him; he had taken one look at the sweaty shirt he had worn from Three Ponds and put it in his pack. Still, he could smell his own musk beneath that of the furs. Shrugging, he sat down on the bench just inside the door to take off his skis. He had just gotten his boots off when his wife threw herself at him.
“Jake! Where the hell have you been?” Beth Larkin exclaimed, hugging him just as tightly as Katie had, apparently more oblivious to his smell than his daughter had been. It had only been four days, but the feel of her pressed against him warmed his blood. He gave her a deep kiss. Despite two children, Beth still had nearly the same figure she had had twenty years ago. She wore her reddish brown hair short these days, and she might have more worry lines around her eyes. But she had weathered the years far better than he, that was for damn sure.
Beth pulled out of the kiss to look him in the eyes. “You stink,” she said.
Jake laughed; apparently the honeymoon was over. “So I’ve been told. I’ll clean up a bit, and then hope for something to eat.”
“I might be able to help you there,” his wife said with a chuckle. “We have some smoked venison and a loaf of bread that Lily Hogan made.”
“Clean and fed….can’t get much better than that this side of heaven,” he said, poking her in the ribs. She squawked, slapping him in the chest, and then got up and headed to the kitchen. Jake grabbed a washbowl, filled it with snow from outside, and then walked to the fireplace in the living room. He found Trig sitting on a warm blanket, eyes closed, dryer now but still looking matted. “Traitor dog,” he said sternly. “You left me to deal with the council all by myself.” Trig raised his head to look at him, and then promptly set it back down and closed his eyes. Clearly, he was unrepentant.
Jake set the bowl next to the fire so it could melt, and then went to grab a bar of soap. He found only one, and it was almost used up. He’d have to ask Jordan Brown to make him a few more bars. “Where’s Seth?” he asked.
“He’s at the Harper’s, actually. He says it’s to visit Tommy and see if Mother Harper is feeling better, but I think it may have something to do with Tommy’s little sister.”
“Abby? What is she, fourteen?”
“She’s sixteen, love, and you know it” Beth said reprovingly. “And Seth is seventeen. Do you remember what you were like at seventeen?”
“I sure do. I was a saint.” Beth snorted loud enough for him to hear, and so he was honor bound to pretend that he had not. “Let’s just hope Abby’s father doesn’t remember what motivated him when HE was at seventeen. He was a little hellion.”
>
Beth’s “Mmmhmmm” was loaded with meaning . “Remind me who it was who was always with Tom Harper when he was being a seventeen year old hellion?”
“Some nameless hooligan, I’m sure.” Jake colored at some of the memories his wife’s taunting brought up. Thankfully, neither Seth nor Tommy Jr. took after their fathers in THAT respect. At least he thought they didn’t, and in the absence of any outraged fathers, he’d continue to believe.
Jake looked down at the washbowl. Most of the snow had melted now, but the water was still ice cold. He thought about washing with it anyway, but thought better of it. He stood a good chance of catching something as it was, after going out in that storm. Instead, he grabbed an old towel from the linen closet and started to dry off Trigger. It looked like Beth had already gave him a once over, but he still smelled remarkably like Jake's furs had. Normally Trig wouldn’t have sat still to be dried off; the dog had boundless energy. Today, though, he didn’t do much more than open his eyes. Jake sympathized; he was tired down into his bones.
Beth came in, bearing a plate of food. She smiled as she looked at Trig. “Think he’ll sleep tonight?” she asked facetiously.
“And most of the day tomorrow, and I’ll be curled up next to him,” he said fervently. Of course, that wouldn’t actually happen. He had to meet with that scout from Kenosha tomorrow, and give the council all the gory details of Three Ponds. Still, it was nice to dream.
Beth wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know who smells worse, you or Trig.” Jake gave her a stern look for that. Trig, for his part, looked at Beth and gave a quiet yip. Jake didn’t know if the dog was scolding Beth or casting his vote. Jake decided he didn’t want to know. Sometimes, it was good to not speak Dog.
Jake tried the water. It was barely lukewarm, but he was tired of waiting. Taking what was left of the soap, he gave himself a once over with the rag. He would have liked to soak in a tub for a while, but it was too cold out; the water would never have kept its heat. He had hoped to shave, as well, but the small amount of soap he had wouldn’t allow for that. Definitely time to pay a visit to the Browns.
Aspen Vale: A Tale of the Gone Page 3