Keepers

by Brenda Cooper

  Lou plucked the fruit from the girl’s hand and bit into it, smiling as the warm juices trickled through her teeth and filled her mouth.

  “Do you like it?” the girl asked.

  “Very much.”

  Alondra whispered, “You won’t destroy the garden, will you?”

  Lou smiled at her. “It will be all right. Somehow.”

  Alondra nodded as if she understood all of the complexities.

  On the other side of the fence lay another enclosure, this one full of chickens. Hundreds of chickens. Red ones, white ones, chickens with barred patterns on their broad chests, and smaller chickens with bare necks and funny rings of feathers right under their heads.

  Piles of chicken feed lay behind fine screens inside a covered patio, and piles of green and white chicken manure sat near the door ready to remove with a small army of scratched green and gray wheelbarrows.

  Coops lined two of the interior fence lines, although at the moment the chickens were mostly in the yard between the coops.

  Lou wandered close enough to hear Astrid explaining that the chickens would put themselves to bed at dark, and that this whole area was guarded enough with tight fencing that none had been taken from here except three that a neighbor stole once. Astrid explained, “We slaughter about two thirds of them every fall and start over with new chicks in the spring.”

  It all looked quite neat—unexpectedly neat—and just like the kind of operation that the Returners always claimed they should be able to create when they argued that open-land farming should be legal again. This little scrap of land could be a picture postcard for the way the American West was before the damage, before climate change, before the great taking.

  How could she leave it intact without being a hypocrite? Her chest tightened with worry and a bit of dismay.

  The tour didn’t go near the barns, but they did pass another outbuilding with bunks in it. Two men and a woman cleaned walls with brushes they dipped over and over in soapy water. Ignacio, Ana, and she’d forgotten the other’s name. Something else that ended in that o sound. Three of Valeria’s boys had names like that; something-o. She was surprised she’d remembered Ignacio.

  How could she ever remember all of their names?

  She’d had a simple vision of riding into a damaged but empty place with working water, maybe fixing a few walls or something, or even getting the ecobots to do the hard work while they set about the business of locating the local wolves. She turned to Alondra. “Do you ever hear wolves?”

  Alondra’s eyes widened and she hesitated, then spoke softly while not looking at Lou. “We hear coyotes almost every night. They hunt in town and even out here. One night they were right under my window and something screamed.”

  “Was that scary?”

  Alondra shrugged. “Animals need to eat. They are not as scary as people.”

  “Do I scare you?” Lou asked her.

  Alondra was quiet for a long time before she mumbled, “No,” in a manner that Lou interpreted to mean quite the opposite. Was it the ecobots, the power Lou had to take their house, the weapons they all carried, or the fact that they might draw in enemies from town, like John Smith or whoever else was here? What did this girl understand? She was the oldest child here, her body about to bloom into a woman’s but still long-legged and coltish. Lou had a nagging feeling that she was underestimating her.

  Had the tomato been a peace offering?

  The pale red glow in the western sky had faded to gray by the time they returned to the house. Light-blocking shades made it look empty from the outside, but inside light spilled through every room. Alondra left her side to help her two younger cousins set a large table in a formal dining room on the opposite side of the house from the room they’d held the meeting in. The children were at best half of Alondra’s age, a boy and a little girl. The girl might be even younger. She could barely reach the table to tip spoons onto it.

  Lou glimpsed a door that led into a kitchen, a big one that might have originally been designed for parties.

  She stopped Astrid as the other woman strode by on her way to the kitchen. “We’d like to see the rest of the house.”

  Astrid’s lips thinned, but she nodded as if compelled to politeness. “Of course.”

  Lou had the sense that Astrid couldn’t wait to get away from her. She wanted to reach out to her like she had to Alondra and tell her that everything would be okay, but she probably shouldn’t have even said that to the girl. It might very well be a lie.

  Astrid pointed down the hall. “Should we start with the library?”

  Lou was about to say no when she noticed the look in Matchiko’s eyes. “Sure.”

  The library could hold more people than the sitting room, except that shelves covered every wall and some even stuck out into the middle of the room. Based on a quick estimation, there must be thousands of physical books here. What a strange thing to find anywhere, much less way out here. In the center of the room, tables and chairs and armchairs provided places to work or to sit.

  Matchiko, who loved books, started reading spines. Lou plucked at her shoulder. They wouldn’t be sleeping in here. “Later. We’ll come back later.”

  Matchiko kept walking, staring at all of the bookcases, although she did speed up. As she finished her circuit of the room, she asked, “This was the city library?”

  Astrid nodded.

  Matchiko narrowed her eyes. “Can people from town come use it?”

  “If they want to.”

  Lou heard the unlikeliness of that in Astrid’s voice. “All right. What else is down here?”

  “There’s an office that’s been turned into a bedroom, a really big pantry, and some storage. Do you want to see them?”

  Lou nodded, and they followed Astrid on a tour of a messy ex-office with two beds and shelves full of supplies from ragged green army blankets to cases of dish soap. The pantry was the most impressive food storage she’d ever seen, although over half the shelves were empty. The top shelves were lined with wine bottles.

  Astrid took her up a wide staircase. It wasn’t a decorative stair, merely wide in a functional way, as if there was a need to drag couches up it or walk up and down two abreast. At the top of the stair, they had to turn right or left. Astrid took them down the left hallway and stopped in front of two doors, one on the right and one on the left. “There are two bedroom suites on either side of the house—each has a bedroom, a bathroom, some storage, and a small office.”

  She hesitated, but before Lou asked she swung one doorway open. “Mathew, Alondra, and I share this room. You might remember Mathew is my husband.”

  “He’s the tall white man?”

  “Yes.”

  That explained Alondra’s long legs. The room was neat, the furniture homemade and sturdy, and flowered curtains hung in front of the two windows. Lou only went in far enough to count beds. Two. One was a twin, presumably Alondra’s. A small stuffed horse rested on the pillow, brown with a black mane and tail.

  Astrid continued, “Angel, Tembi, and Mary are in the one across the hall from us.” She pointed. “Mary is the littlest. On the other side, Sofia has one room and Ignacio and Ana another. We keep all of the children up here on the second floor where it’s safer.”

  Lou sensed a touch of the defensive in Astrid’s posture and voice. She decided to ignore it. “Isn’t Valeria’s oldest son Felipe? Isn’t he married?”

  “Yes. He and his family have one of the master suites, and the other one is Valeria’s.”

  “May I see one of the suites?”

  Astrid gave her a look that bordered on resentment. “I’ll show you Valeria’s.”

  Tall windows would spill morning light into a high-ceilinged sitting room with a fireplace. The walls were hung with pictures of brightly colored vegetables and beautiful Hispanic women. Astrid showed them a separate bedroom with enough space to add three beds to it if you had to, although now it held a single king bed with a canopy and three chests. There wa
s a large bathroom and a tiny bar with a sink and a hotplate. A huge closet. The suite was as big as a small house, warm, inviting, and just cluttered enough to look lived-in.

  Lou thought about the bunk room they were cleaning out, and about who she would put where if it were up to her.

  It was up to her.

  But playing dictator could be the wrong move. And so could giving up her right to be one. The more she thought about the complexities of moving children away from reported safety and assessed the deep undercurrents in Astrid’s manners, the hollower her stomach became.

  If she turned these people into enemies, that’s all she’d have here. That and two ecobots.

  Shuska, Matchiko, and Day still trailed behind her. As the group went back down the stairs, Lou told Astrid, “We need to go check on the horses, and on our people. We’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll stay,” Matchiko said. “It looks like the kids can use some final help with the place settings.”

  She didn’t like the idea of Matchiko being left alone, but she wanted Day’s opinion. She glanced at Shuska and gave her the sign to stay. Shuska nodded, the look in her eyes telling Lou she hadn’t wanted Matchiko alone either. But it felt like a smart choice in spite of the obvious dangers—they’d have privacy and Valeria wouldn’t, at least until after dinner.

  Lou walked beside Day down the drive in the near-black of early evening, shivering slightly from a cool breeze. The thick band of the Milky Way glowed velvet in the sky. The moon had risen a waxing half, and threw enough light to see bumps in the rough road.

  “What do you think?” Lou asked Day.

  “It’s up to you.”

  She pressed him. “You really don’t have an opinion?”

  “You need to choose,” he said. “You’re in charge, and we won’t be here forever.”

  “Not helpful.”

  He answered with two words. “But true.”

  Before they got to the barn, Lou whistled for Daryl and Blessing, making sure they knew who was coming.

  “Everything okay?” she asked, as soon as she heard their familiar footsteps.

  “Boring,” Blessing said.

  “Good,” Lou said. “Sorry. It’s complex up there. There’s fifteen people in the big house.”

  “Small for twenty-one,” Daryl observed.

  “Yeah, I can do math, too.”

  Day laughed, soft and low. It startled her a little; he seldom laughed.

  “We’re sleeping out here tonight. It’s already dark, and I’m not moving children around in the middle of the night in a situation I don’t understand yet. And we’re mounting a guard.”

  Before Blessing or Daryl could complain that there wasn’t enough daylight, Day said, “I’ll set up camp. I can explain the situation to Daryl. You,” he said, nodding at Blessing, “should go up and charm some folks for the evening.”

  Blessing smiled.

  Lou decided to accept it even if she hadn’t given the order. “Let’s go.”

  Blessing ambled fast, the way he always did. Half cowboy, half fighter, always appearing relaxed even when he wasn’t. She felt pretty sure he wasn’t relaxed tonight—it wasn’t like him to border on insubordinate or to pout, and tonight he’d done both.

  She took a few little hop-skips to keep up with him. “What are you thinking?”

  “It’s our job to get these people to leave Chelan.”

  She walked backward so she could see his face in the faint starlight. “It’s our job to save the wolf packs up here.”

  “Our permit for this place is for us,” he countered.

  “But we’re not police.” Lou had been thinking similar thoughts, and feeling uncomfortable with them. “I wish they weren’t here. But they are.”

  She tripped on a rock, and Blessing grabbed her hand and kept her from falling. “I like them. That woman—Valeria—she’s strong. They’re not going to want to go.”

  Her reaction came out a little bitter. “Maybe they can help us save the wolves.”

  He laughed for the first time that night, and she decided there was reason for hope. Blessing always left her feeling a little hopeful.

  As soon as they got back to the house, Alondra led Lou into the dining room and sat her at the foot of the huge rectangular table. It was lined with wildflowers and leaves that had started to turn red for fall, and the placemats were real fabric, although if she looked closely she could spot stains. She noticed that hers had none. Extra chairs had been brought in, and the placemats overlapped.

  She found Alondra seated on her left and Astrid on her right. Someone—probably Alondra—had put name plates by each setting, small squares of real paper with block letters handwritten in colored ink. She called Alondra over and introduced her to Blessing, and the child made a new nameplate for him.

  Dinner was surprisingly formal. The children served water and wine and the youngest two of Valeria’s grown children, Angel and Sofia, served food.

  The delicate formality of the meal covered awkward phrases and strained looks. After they finished the salad course, Lou stood up and waited for the room to grow quiet.

  Valeria looked curious, Alondra afraid, and the others mostly, again, confused. Or maybe startled. She felt like she was violating some unwritten rule of the household, but she started anyway. “I am pleased to meet all of you and grateful for your hospitality.”

  Valeria glanced around the table as if catching everyone’s eye, or sending them all a silent message. Her family smiled, or at least relaxed a bit.

  Lou took a deep breath. “We do have rights to this place which is your home, permitted and granted to us by the government. We will be using those rights to help with the wilding. Accommodating us will require changes. In the meantime, we see no reason to move families around at night, and we are used to camping. Our robot companions will keep us safe enough. So please rest in the beds you are used to tonight. Changes will start tomorrow.”

  Valeria stood at the other end of the table. She spoke formally. “Thank you for your gracious understanding. Shall we talk at lunch?”

  “Yes.”

  Valeria raised her glass. “To finding options that are of mutual benefit.”

  Everyone raised whatever glasses they held. Lou’s had water in it.

  “In the meantime, please feel free to stay after dinner for music and perhaps some poetry.”

  Poetry?

  The mood during the rest of dinner seemed lighter, as if now that she and Valeria had traded polite public statements everyone could relax a little.

  The last course was a bowl of wild blackberries that stained her fingers dark purple. As soon as they finished, the children and Matchiko quickly cleared the table. Matchiko went to help with the dishes, and Blessing and Shuska went with Lou, Valeria, Astrid, and all of the men to the sitting room.

  Valeria opened a closet to reveal a motley collection of instruments in various stages of repair. She pulled out a flute case that she slung over her back, and a drum, then smiled at Lou. “Your turn.”

  This was a game she should be able to match Valeria at—there had been many nights of singing and dancing in the old RiversEnd Ranch great room, particularly in front of the great stone fireplace in the winter. She didn’t have Valeria’s voice, but she could play.

  She selected a guitar, purposefully choosing the best one even though she felt a little guilty for it. She was not at all surprised when Blessing ended up with a fine hand-drum made from a tree trunk and stretched leather and Shuska chose a rattle more suited for a child. It looked tiny in her huge hands.

  After everyone had a seat, some on the floor for lack of adequate seating, Valeria stood by the window and sang single note, a G.

  The children came running in, babbling in excitement. They quickly settled into various places on the floor, however, faces turned eagerly toward Valeria.

  She sang a solo song, a sort of lullaby. Her voice was truly beautiful, low and strong and with a reasonably wide range. Her pitch was p
erfect. The two youngest children were taken off by their moms then, which explained the lullaby. More evidence of discipline.

  After, others started songs, and it became a general free-for-all jam session. Matchiko led three songs, and Blessing two, and Valeria and Astrid and few others all led songs, too. After two hours Lou signaled an end and rose to make her people’s excuses.

  On the way back down the long drive toward the barn, Lou said, “I think we survived that. They liked our music.”

  Matchiko spoke softly. “They liked your heart.”

  “I liked them,” Shuska said.

  Lou was glad it was so dark that Shuska couldn’t see her startled expression. “Since when do you like someone the first day you meet them?”

  “I never do.”

  As she snuggled into her sleeping bag, Lou heard the high yips and calls of a pack of coyotes a few hills over. She listened until they finished hunting.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The next morning, the lake glittered in bright sunshine although thunderclouds hung over the mountains. The storm Daryl had promised appeared to be getting itself ready to slide over the mountains and bear down. Lou took Mouse and rode to the edge of the property where no one could hear her. She could see much of this end of the lake and some of the town below, the streets ribbons of dark and the houses and buildings bright squares. It looked far different than Yakima, which virtually hummed with activity every morning.

  She called Coryn on her wristlet. After establishing that they were both healthy, she blurted out, “You didn’t know this house is occupied?”

  “Every place in Chelan appears to be occupied. Every place with water.”

  “It’s a working farm. Surely there was something emptier?” How could Coryn have even allowed this? How did Lou end up relying on Coryn, who had barely managed to survive out here?

  A new voice entered the call. Julianna. “Tell me everything that’s happened.”

  Lou felt a flash of guilt for berating Coryn, followed by a brief resentment of Julianna for interrupting. But Julianna was financing this, and she had a right to know what was happening. So Lou slid down off Mouse and clipped a lead to the halter she wore under her bridle, letting her crop grass. She told Julianna everything that had happened since they arrived in Wenatchee, including her assessment that the ecobots had been a very bad idea.