When It Rains

by Joel Shaw

  “I saw something, a black dot, a spot on the horizon where nothing should be. I managed to get a glimpse with my binoculars. A black rider on a two-wheeler. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m sure he/she/it followed that train to town.” She paused, watching the body language and eyes of the two women. Did they know? She couldn’t decipher a thing. The women were filthy. Reading them was impossible.

  Amber remembered the dot behind her as she was leaving Texas...could it be? She shivered. Gong. How could she have been so stupid? Jordan had warned her several times to beware of the Rangers. Always watch your back. She had watched her back. Until she met Sheila. She had abandoned her new role as adventurer and had taken on the more civilized role of little sister. She liked having a sister. It was more than that, though. She loved having a companion. She realized she was depending on Sheila for too much. She vowed to be more vigilant and independent in the future. She better tell them.

  “I think I...ahh...might have messed up. Sorry.” Amber paused, unsure of the extent to which she had messed up but messed up she had. “It might have been...I mean I saw a black dot...back in Texas. Like you described... it....followed me...for two days...until I got to Kansas. I didn’t see it after that.”

  “Did you ever look?” Faye demanded.

  Amber shook her head, bracing for the blow back.

  Sheila was pissed. Time to start a fire. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

  “There’s more, worse stuff....” Amber wasn’t sure if she wanted to say what she was about to say. Then she said it.

  “I think it’s a Texas Ranger. And I’m telling y’all, that’s not a good thing.”

  “Never heard of them.” Faye waved her hand dismissively. She wanted whomever it was to leave her town without incident.

  “I’ve heard of them.” The kindling caught. “They’re bounty hunters. If what you saw was a Texas Ranger, then he or she is looking for someone in particular. Someone special.” She looked at Amber. Could she? Not. “Who else lives in this town? Anybody important?”

  Faye wasn’t listening. She was having a difficult time compiling. Too much data in such a short period of time.

  “Faye?” Sheila prompted. “Faye, you with us?”

  “Who? OH! Sorry. Important? In this town? I don’t know. Not many people left. I can’t think of anyone special..I know Leland. He’s not special...well I mean he is...but not in that way. Oh...which one of you asked about him.” Her tone changed suddenly.” Oh for goodness sake I haven’t even introduced myself. Hi. My name is Faye. Faye Searles.” She was about to shake hands, but changed her mind. These girls had blood on their hands, literally.

  Amber sheepishly raised her hand. “Hi. I asked about Leland. My name is Amber. This is my friend Sheila and this is our friend Redwing. Can we come in? We are really hungry and, well you can see how dirty we are. You wouldn't happen to have a shower would you?"

  Faye held them at bay with her shotgun. “Hold on girly. Back up a little. You say you're Leland's sister? Leland doesn't have a sister."

  "I'm his half sister, Mamm. My mom had him, Leland, before she moved to Texas. She had me after she met my Dad in Gunflint, Texas. I don't know much more than that. My mom told me about Leland not long before she died."

  “What about you?” She pointed the muzzle at Sheila.

  “Me?” Sheila was caught of guard. She had no background story. Make one up. “I’m a friend of Amber’s. I just came along for the ride.” Not very convincing.

  “Odd that Leland never mentioned you, Amber.” Faye decided to trust her gut. “Come in...come in...” Faye ushered them into the dining room. "Sit at that round table. I'll get you something to eat. You want rice or beans, or both?"

  Amber smiled. "I'll take both, Mamm. Thank you very much."

  "Me too," Sheila said. She had been evaluating the interior while Amber was engaged in conversation. She noticed that Faye carried the shotgun into the kitchen. She wasn’t careless. “This place looks a lot better on the inside than it does on the outside."

  They could hear Faye's laughter carry from the kitchen.

  “Oh, you mean all the bullet holes?” She laughed again. “Things got pretty lively around here in the 30s."

  "Where are you girls from?" She came out of the kitchen carrying a tray loaded with three heaping bowls of brown rice and beans, a dish of raisins, two tall glasses of powdered milk and a box of dog biscuits. No shotgun.

  "I'm from Texas," Amber said, taking the bowl she was handed. “wow...you have raisins...and dog biscuits? Amazing. Look Redwing, we sure came to the right place, didn't we boy?"

  "The third bowl is for your dog. What did you call him?”

  "Wow, thank you. His name is Redwing. Here you go boy, have something to eat. Do you have a bowl for water? I'm sure he's thirsty. We have some water, I just need another bowl. If you don't mind."

  “Sure thing.”

  Sheila was famished, no time for thank you, without hesitation she garnished her bowl with raisins, put the bowl to her lips, cupped her hand like a scoop, and plowed a large portion into her mouth.

  Sheila watched her with some amusement. "Where are you from young lady?"

  "Kansas." Sheila continued shoveling food in her mouth. When she was finished, she wiped her face with her tattered sleeve. "Sorry, I was really hungry." She smiled. "I was born in Texas wound up in Kansas. You wouldn't happen to have any more rice and beans?”

  "I have two kettles on the stove and I'd be happy if you ate all of it. I'll be right back." She returned from the kitchen with a huge bowl of beans and rice. "Eat. Please. I can't do anything with the leftovers.”

  She offered Sheila a wooden spoon. "They use these in Kansas, I presume."

  Sheila grinned. "Yes Mamm.” She grinned. “We call them spoons."

  Faye watched the trio consume all the food laid before them. Redwing was soon sleeping under the table, having had his fill. "What happened to your dog?"

  "We don't know. We found him while we were traveling. His injury is old. We thought he got caught under a train."

  "What made you think that?"

  "Because the cut is so clean and we found him limping along the railroad tracks. He could hardly stand up. We...I brought him on board and he's been riding with us since Red Wing, Minnesota. That's why we named him Redwing."

  "I wasn't sure we were doing him any favors, until we got here.” Sheila smiled. Her appetite was sated, the embers were cooling. She was ready to get clean. “We...Amber left him on the train. He was riding solo for a while." She winked at Amber. "You could say he made our ride a lot more interesting than it might have been." All right, enough of the chit chat. “I would really like to clean up, Mamm. I haven't had a shower in three days." She looked at Faye, expecting her to usher them to a tiled bathroom with hot and cold running water.

  "I don't know what you girls are used to, but up here in Minnesota we have been on water rations for thirty years. We do sponge baths around here. I haven’t had a shower in...almost twenty years. Where in the world were you taking a shower?”

  “Kansas.” Sheila picked at her fingernail. Waiting for the invitation. No more small talk, bitch. I can’t stand myself anymore.

  “Don’t you have your Water Ration Cards?"

  Shit. Sheila wanted to scream. Play nice. “We don't have Minnesota Water Ration Cards." Sheila shook her HydroPack to make her point. ”I might have a cup or two in here."

  Amber followed suit. "I've been sharing my water with Redwing. I don't think I have any water left."

  "Goddamit." Sheila lost it. She pounded her fist on the table which hurt like hell. “Those fucking Swans have water. Where the fuck are they?"

  Faye placed her hand on her shotgun which she had recovered from the kitchen. Just in case. These girls could be setting her up. She had to be careful. The red-head was wild.

  Amber detected Faye’s alarm. “It’s OK, never mind her. She gets pretty upset when she can't clean up." Amber offered a we
ak smile then gave Sheila’s shin a kick under the table.

  "I think you've been misinformed, ladies. The only water we have here comes from the Federal Water Dispenser. That’s why I asked if you had you ration cards. Without tho...”

  “That’s not true,” Sheila interuppted. “It better not be.” Throw more fuel on the fire, it ain’t out yet. "The fucking Black Swans are holding millions of gallons of water somewhere near this town."

  Faye was clueless. “I don't know who these Black Swans are that you are talking about, but I assure you they do not live around here. There are several Homeland Security Agents protecting a Federal Emergency Water Reserve outside of town."

  “That’s what I'm talking about." Sheila was on her feet, pants on fire. “The fucking water watchamacallit...reserve thing. Where is it?”

  “We don’t have access to that water. It’s a Federal Emergency Water Reserve.” Faye had bought that line, hook and sinker a long, long time ago.

  “Bullshit.”

  Amber tried to pull her back into the chair. Sheila resisted. She stood. She was burning.

  Faye stood, holding the shotgun at ready. "You had better settle down, young lady. I've had one fight in here today, I'm not about to allow another. Why don't you sit down and tell me exactly what you are going on about."

  Sheila sat. She drank the powdered milk to cool off. She hated milk. Powdered the most.

  Faye remained standing, making sure the tirade had subsided. "OK, tell me what's going on with the two of you. I already know about him," she said, pointing at Redwing.

  “Let me get you some coffee, first.” Faye busied herself with the coffee. She wanted the girls to wake up. She wasn’t ready for a sleep over.

  Amber did all of the talking, reviewing the events of the past five days which had led to their appearance on Faye's front door step. Skipping the bloody details of manslaughter on the blue freight train. Sheila sat, pants smoldering. Hurry the hell up with the story.

  Faye listened. The story was convincing and so reckless that she doubted they had made it up for her benefit. She noted that they never mentioned the future. No plans. Odd?

  "You two have had a wild time, I'll grant you that. I can give you a gallon of my ration, tomorrow. That’s the sad truth, I have a little bit of food, but no more water to spare, sorry."

  The two filthy travelers looked at each other, dismayed. Sheila decided she didn’t like Faye. What a selfish bitch.

  "I guess we'll be heading out, then. Thanks for the food and coffee and dog biscuits. Amber turned to leave.

  Sheila stood, then hesitated, she wanted an answer to her question. “Where is that Homeland Security outfit you mentioned? Maybe we can get some water from them."

  Faye tried to put a stop to that line of thinking. “I seriously doubt that, ladies. You should steer clear of them. The commander of that outfit has a bad reputation and most of his men are just as bad.”

  Faye was troubled by the new-comers. First the Ranger person and now they want to rile up Homeland Security. These girls could be nothing but trouble.

  Satisfied, Sheila gathered her gear. “I know. We have some experience with assholes like that.”

  “Well, let me tell you what I know about him. Maybe you’ll change your mind. First of all, he's a drunk. Secondly, there have been rumors in town that he has kidnapped girls and taken them out there for...well..you know.”

  Faye stopped talking. She suddenly realized the peril she was placing these young women in by denying them assistance. Could she trust them? She continued. "I heard a rumor this morning that the commanding officer, Roland...Major Hanson, had imported a truck load of prostitutes and booze for himself and his men. I can just imagine how he treats those women. I'm warning..."

  Amber held up her hand. "You don't have to warn us about Major Hanson, Mamm. We...I mean Sheila knows him very well. Too well."

  Faye was taken aback. "Are you friends with Major Hanson?"

  Sheila was repulsed. "Fuck no. That's the son of a bitch I came here to kill." She couldn't help herself, the hatred spilled from her lips like poison. Keep the fire burning.

  "You came here to kill a Homeland Security Commanding Officer?” This sounded like big trouble. She wanted nothing to do with it. "I hope you have a good reason for saying that."

  "Is rape a good enough reason?" Sheila had no intention of admitting that. The poison was still in her mouth. She spit it out, unabated. "That worthless gob of human flesh and his buddies raped me and took pictures...of themselves...and...me...while they were doing it. Is that a good enough reason?” Her lips were burning.

  Faye sat speechless for several minutes, holding her shotgun for comfort. She did not know what to say, or if she should say anything. These women didn't need her help, they needed an army to accomplish their mission.

  Amber spoke calmly and clearly. "Those men don't have anything to do with Homeland Security, Mamm. Those men call themselves Black Swans. They are organized criminals. They use false credentials to obtain vital resources. They mostly work in the midwest, from Texas north to, well, right here. We've had several, what should I say...encounters with them. They are bad people.”

  Faye looked at the dark stains on the women's clothing. Could those be blood stains? If so, they had been taking a blood bath. What could she do? Better yet, what should she do? If what they are saying is true, how long would it take for Roland to come knocking on her door? She closed her eyes, remembering the way he looked at her when he came to town to hang with the local boys. The thought caused her to shiver. She knew he could be mean, but never imagined that he was a rapist...and a kidnapper. That settles it.

  "What can I do to help?"

  “Will you help us find Leland?” Amber asked.

  Sheila growled. “Will you help us find a fucking shower?”

  #

  MILTON DRIVING WITH WES & HAROLD

  Harold, Leland and Jerry ambled along the bike path paralleling Division Street. It was a beautiful day under a cloudless sky as most days were, the temperature hovered in the low eighties; not unusual for May. Harold was silently rehearsing his apology, searching for the right words. Words to excuse years of selfishness and secrecy. Faye had once given him a chance to come clean. She wanted to be more than friends. He had ignored her advances. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time. He expected rain. When the rains came there would be no need to reveal the existence of his oasis. Furthermore; he hadn’t anticipated Milton and Leland opposing his need for secrecy. They both were deeply disappointed in him and had been for too long. He would do what he could to make up for it. It was time.

  Jerry signaled them to halt. "Listen. You guys here an engine? It sounds like that ol truck that I used to drive in Dakota. My dad gave me...”

  “Shut up, Jerry.” We’re not listening to you.”

  Jerry clamped his lips with his fingers. The three stood silent for a few seconds. "Yeah." Leland spun around. The sound was behind them. Jerry and Harold followed suit. There was no mistaking the identity of the approaching Humvee.

  “That isn’t your dad’s old truck, Jerry. It’s Roland," Leland said. His tone dripped with hatred.

  Harold wanted to run. "Let's go." He made a move.

  Leland grabbed him by the arm and held him tightly. “Go where, Dad? He'll catch us if he wants to. Let's stand firm. If this is where the battle begins, so be it."

  "He's right," Jerry interjected. "There is no running from this fight." He drew his machete. They stood still, waiting for the caustic brute to pull along side.

  Harold clenched his fists. What the hell, maybe he would take a swing at the asshole.

  "If he's alone, we might have a chance." Harold tensed, ready for battle.

  Jerry was first to notice something unusual. "That's not the way Roland drives. He’s drives fast, and I mean fast. Hey! It looks like he's been in an accident. Look at it. That truck is smashed to hell.”

  To their surprise, the Humvee stopped near them an
d Milton jumped out. "Yo homies, check it out. How do you like my new ride?" He did a little dance, arms spread wide, smile spread wide.

  Harold was elated. He wouldn’t need to punch anyone today. “Come here you old dozer jockey." Harold gave his friend a bear hug. "I was hoping you were still around, Milt. Really I was."

  Milton laughed. “I didn't get far, HC. I kinda got caught in a shit storm, and it ain’t over yet. I got an old guy in there." He pointed to Wes slumped in the passenger’s seat. “Roland kicked the shit out of him before I could rescue him.” He said it proudly. “He's hurt pretty bad; busted ribs. I was on the way to Faye's. What the hell are you three doing way out here all by your lonesomes?”

  Jerry was inspecting the damaged vehicle. “I have a better question. How did you end up with Roland's Humvee? Did you do this? This is just like the truck I had. Except it wasn’t a...what’s this thing called?”

  “A Humvee.” Milton rolled his eyes. Idiot kid.

  “Yeah,” Jerry continued, “A humbee. We’d tear around the fields in that thing all day long. My grandpa loved....”

  Milton grinned and nodded, ignoring Jerry’s anecdote. They had all heard the story. Several times. “Best day of my life, right here. I stole Handsome Hansom’s Hummer.”

  Jerry laughed. “I’ll bet he's pissed. Probably as pissed as I...”

  “I ran his ass over, man.” Milton laughed and filled them in on the series of events that had given him a new purpose in life. "I'm gonna run over his ass again, if I see him." He opened the passenger door. "I want you guys to meet Wes. Wes, this here's Harold and Leland and Jerry."

  Wes managed to eek out a, “Hello.”

  "Check these out." Harold fondled the white standards with his dirty hands, staining them. “I don’t understand. These aren't Homeland Security insignia’s.”

  Jerry shook hands with Wes. “Hi, Im Jerry Goodthunder. I’m from North Dakota. I’m a full-blooded Dakota Indian. My family...”