by Nathan Jones
The buildings were dutifully made and maintained, the fields carefully tended, and all the gear in sight mended and functional. But at the same time the homestead didn't have a particularly prosperous look, obviously due to circumstances rather than lack of hard work.
As evidenced by the fact that there were men and women out working in the fields and around the houses, with children ranging from nearly grown up to toddlers working alongside them. Although the youngest were playing more than working, their slightly older siblings or cousins making a show of keeping them on task while most looked to be trying to get away with avoiding work themselves.
The bustle paused as Skyler and Adalia approached, eyes turning to watch them curiously. An older man hurried out to meet them, curtly motioning two boys in their early teens back to work as they tried to follow.
“Should I fetch my gun, Daughter?” he called in cheerful Spanish, giving Skyler a friendly wave as he continued. “You're the last person I'd expect to accept a ride from a suspicious vagabond!”
Adalia's dad appeared to be one of those people who assumed, often correctly, that gringos never spoke his language. Skyler turned to the young woman and raised an eyebrow, more amused than insulted.
She had a distinctive flush to her cheeks as she awkwardly climbed down from Junior's back to join them. “Skyler helped me against two actual vagabonds in Lone Valley, Papa,” she chided. She shot Skyler an embarrassed glance. “Also, he speaks excellent Spanish.”
“That so?” Mr. Ruiz answered, not looking the least bit embarrassed or apologetic. “In that case welcome to the Ruiz homestead, Mister Skyler!” He stepped forward, offering his hand. “I'm Pablo Ruiz.”
“Skyler Graham,” he replied, returning the handshake. In spite of the older man's easy smile, his grip was almost firm enough to be hostile. Or maybe he was just really, really grateful about Skyler helping his daughter. Yeah, that was probably it. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Ruiz.” The extent of which was still in question, but he knew his manners.
Mr. Ruiz wrapped an arm around his daughter and kissed her forehead, then leaned close to her ear and murmured something. She nodded firmly, so he shrugged and gently shooed her towards where a handful of women were busy planting a garden.
Then he turned back to Skyler, tone brisk. “My daughter seems to think you should stay to dinner. Let's get your horse taken care of, then I'll show you to where you can wash up.”
He nodded and followed the older man as he continued on towards the cluster of houses. But halfway there Mr. Ruiz abruptly paused, spinning to face him. The homesteader's friendly tone gained a hard edge. “Just to be clear, I trust you didn't come trailing home after my girl like a lost puppy hoping for something that isn't going to happen.”
After a few moments of surprise at the blunt accusation, Skyler struggled to keep his outrage in check. “I just wanted to make sure those two men didn't bother her on the way here, sir.”
Mr. Ruiz met his gaze with narrowed eyes. “I hope so. Adalia's a good girl, and she's seen enough hardship in her life without some drifter getting ideas.” He turned away, calling over his shoulder as he continued. “Which is why if I find you've tried anything I will get my gun.”
The man had a right to be protective of his daughter, of course, and at the moment Skyler could admit his unshaven, travel-worn appearance strayed beyond roguish to approach villainous.
He supposed he probably should've taken a bit of time to clean up before heading into Lone Valley. But after so long on the road, so many towns passed through with a stop of at most days and sometimes barely hours, with the occasional one he rode right through and on his way, well . . .
It just didn't make much sense to go to all that effort when he wasn't going to stay long, especially when it was doubtful he'd ever see any of those folks again anyway. Besides, he'd found that as long as he didn't get too scruffy nobody really cared how he looked. Aside from maybe any girls who might've been interested in him, assuming any were willing to look twice at a dusty traveler with who knew what sort of past.
But that didn't matter much to him, since Skyler wasn't really on the market. So yeah, Mr. Ruiz had no cause to worry; he had no intention of being anything but a perfect guest, just like he always tried to be.
Still, even a home-cooked meal was looking a lot less enticing after such an unfriendly reception. He wondered if there was some way he could get out of here without insulting his host; he had food of his own, and now that Adalia was safe with her family his job was done.
But before he could begin searching for a reasonable excuse to leave, a plump, matronly woman who'd been speaking urgently with Adalia bustled over and firmly took Skyler's arm. “Diego and Juan need help with their north fence, dear,” she told Mr. Ruiz briskly. “How about you go on and help them while I get our guest settled?”
The homesteader scowled; Skyler had seen that expression on Trapper's face after his mom gently but firmly banished him from some situation where she felt a woman's touch was needed. Although he was certainly grateful for the intervention at the moment.
Mr. Ruiz offered no protest as he stomped off, although he gave Skyler one last warning look.
“It's good to meet you, Skyler,” the woman said warmly. “I'm Maria Ruiz.” She patted the arm she held as she guided him off. “Don't mind Pablo . . . he gets out the attack dogs whenever a handsome young man gets within a hundred yards of our daughter. As if he's forgotten what it feels like to be that age and on the other side of the encounter.”
“It's fine,” he replied, a bit nonplussed. Handsome?
“Adalia told me how you leapt to her defense,” Mrs. Ruiz continued as if his responses were optional, pausing by a small fenced-in pen that could serve for a temporary horse paddock. “She insists she can take care of herself, and I realize she's a grown woman and in most situations she could. But speaking as a worried mother, I'm glad you happened to be there in any case.”
Adalia's mom continued to chatter pleasantly as she helped him get Junior unsaddled and cared for. They left the stallion contentedly munching on hay with a handful of corn as a treat. “Now that that beautiful animal of yours is rubbed down and brushed,” she said cheerfully as she once again took his arm and led him away, “I imagine you'll want to see to your own state . . . I like to see everyone who eats at my table clean and well groomed. Do you need to borrow a razor?”
Skyler absently rubbed at the blond stubble on his cheeks. “I have one, thanks.”
“Soap, then, and a clean change of clothes while I wash yours?”
That was far more trouble than he wanted his host to go through on his behalf. Not to mention his clothes were well past the point where he'd be embarrassed to have anyone clean them but himself. “I have soap. And nicer clothes to wear when the occasion calls for them, actually. No need to trouble yourself.”
Mrs. Ruiz looked up at him, dark eyes twinkling. “Well well. Soap, a razor, and formal attire. Good to know your current look is voluntary, rather than a product of destitution.”
Skyler felt his face flushing at the gentle teasing.
She showed him to a small room with a clean straw floor in what he assumed was the Ruiz house, and gave him some warm water to wash with. Then she left him to it. “Just give a call if you need anything.”
He wasted no time wiping himself down with his dampened rag, soaping himself up, then wiping the soap off as best he could again. A procedure he'd long since perfected, especially over the last couple years when sometimes his only option was stream water heated over a fire.
Which might explain why he'd taken the time to wash so infrequently since leaving home.
After he was satisfied with his cleanliness, which he'd spent more effort on than usual, he got to work applying a thick lather to his face and scraping off the heavy stubble. Last of all he dressed in his nearly new pre-Ultimatum buttoned shirt and jeans, then applied some of the precious deodorant his mom had gifted him.
Sk
yler didn't usually use it except for really special occasions. Like wanting to make the best possible impression on a military officer from the Northern League, in a bid to talk his way inside their borders. But he assured himself that using some now had nothing to do with a certain lovely young woman with big dark eyes he kind of wanted to look at him with approval.
Nothing at all, when he was looking for an even more beautiful (at least he assumed since it had been five years) dark-eyed girl who also happened to be his closest friend. Now that he'd left Tabby behind with no hope of going back, that is.
Dwelling on his love life, or heck even his social life, tended to make him glum.
Still, he was at least a bit satisfied with his efforts when he emerged from the side room into the Ruiz family's combined kitchen and living area, where Adalia and her mom were busy preparing dinner, and saw the reaction the young woman showed at his appearance: in spite of her earlier reservation she paused to stare at him, obviously taken aback.
“That much difference, huh?” Skyler asked, feeling self-conscious.
Adalia looked away, and he thought he saw a flush on her cheeks. “You clean up fairly well,” she admitted grudgingly.
“Most pretty boys do,” Mrs. Ruiz called over her shoulder in a cheerful tone from where she was still busy at the stove, making his cheeks redden further. “Now that he looks a bit less like a stranded Viking, I can see why you brought him home.”
“I didn't-that's not . . .” Adalia covered her face with her apron, protests fading to furious muttering, and stalked out of the room. “Getting eggs!” she called through the door before slamming it.
Her mom turned to grin at Skyler. “Don't mind her. In five minutes she'll be back, cheerful as you please, as if none of this ever happened.”
He couldn't help but grin back; his family tended to be quiet in their affection, reserved in their reactions, and their stubbornness was literally the stuff of legends. Friends and neighbors went so far as to make comparisons to them when discussing that particular character trait, as if it was synonymous with the Miller name.
So it was fun to see a more outspoken family, who wore their hearts on their sleeves and seemed to get over their moods quickly.
“Is there something I can do to help out?” he asked.
“Absolutely!” Mrs. Ruiz paused in her dinner preparations to usher him to a seat at the kitchen table. “You can sit right here and rest from the road, while you entertain me with your stories of the world outside Lone Valley.” Her dark eyes twinkled. “A newcomer willing to go all gunslinger on two ruffians hassling a young lady must have some interesting experiences to share.”
Skyler supposed he might, although he felt embarrassed admitting it. “I have traveled some.”
“Some, as in . . .”
“Most of Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Utah, and Wyoming. The areas outside the fallout zones, of course. And outside the Northern League, although I've also explored as much of their territory as they'd let me.”
She paused to turn around again, surprised. “My, you've gotten around. How long have you been on the road for?”
“Two years, give or take. The plan is to head on to Montana, the Dakotas, Nebraska, Minnesota, Iowa, and Wisconsin next.”
Her surprise ratcheted up a notch. “Two years? You must've been moving almost nonstop! And it sounds like you've still got a lot of road to travel . . . what exactly are you looking for?”
Before Skyler could give his familiar and long-practiced answer about looking for his friends, Adalia bustled into the room with her apron full of eggs. “Back!” she said brightly. “What'd I miss?”
“Apparently our guest had good cause to be dusty,” Mrs. Ruiz replied. “He's been roaming the Northwest for years now.”
“Oh yeah?” The young woman gave him a curious look as she rejoined her mom beside the stove. “Seen anything interesting?”
Actually, just a whole lot of irradiated wasteland, with the inhospitable leftover areas scattered with towns not much different from Lone Valley. Seemed a bit dour to say that, though. “Saw the Pacific Ocean. It's . . . an incredible view.”
“I can imagine.” Adalia sounded wistful. “The only things we really saw on our way north to here from Mexico were hideous barren fallout zones, flyspeck communities struggling to scrape a living in deserts and swamps and mountains, and Sangue remnants fleeing south or their deserters carving out areas to terrorize. Of course, we were focused on hiding so we weren't exactly hitting the tourist locations.” She sighed. “Would've been nice to find places worth seeing.”
Oh, okay. Guess maybe dour would've worked for her. “Not many places like that left accessible after the Ultimatum, aside from the ones way out in the middle of nowhere far from the population centers that got nuked.” He scratched at his freshly shaved jaw. “Still, I've seen a few.”
“Well let's hear about them, then!” Mrs. Ruiz urged cheerfully.
Chapter Three
Guest
After about a half hour of chatting, Mrs. Ruiz stepped outside to call the rest of her family to dinner. Before long Skyler heard the stomping of feet and the chatter of voices in the room he'd used to wash up in. It was apparently intended for that purpose among others, since it was a few minutes before Mr. Ruiz and the two younger teenage boys who'd been with him earlier came into the main room, hands and faces freshly washed and hair damp.
The boys were introduced as Adalia's brothers: Carlos, who was fifteen, and Antonio, who was about to turn fourteen. They seemed to be a mixture of curious and suspicious when it came to Skyler, but with their mom and older sister both acting comfortable around him curiosity won out.
So as they all settled around the table, which was now loaded down with boiled eggs, rice, baked beans, and fresh loaves of bread, the conversation turned back to Skyler's travels. He was okay with that topic, even if he was a bit self-conscious about all the attention.
But apparently Mr. Ruiz wasn't, because before Skyler could mention the purpose of his travels, ask his usual questions about the Hendricksons searching for any clues to their whereabouts, the man interrupted him.
“Think the League might be planning for Lone Valley to grow in a big way soon,” the homesteader said idly as he took a bite of bread smothered with beans. “There's a sawmill going up northwest of here in the mountains. Family from somewhere to the east must've seen nobody else is properly sawing logs to make boards, so they decided to capitalize on the lack. League's not stepping in to stop its construction, so they must see the need as well.”
Skyler supposed that could be a sign of major growth coming soon, although it didn't have to be; there'd always be a demand for sawn boards, as trade goods if nothing else.
Sure, back at home Emery had taken over a decade and a half after the Ultimatum before someone there had finally decided to open a sawmill. But that was because the town had already had plenty of good houses made before the world nuked itself, and maintaining them had been easier than new construction.
At least until the Camptown fighters burned the entire town to the ground to deprive Sangue of it, forcing its former residents to build new homes after the war ended.
Here, though, where an entire town was springing up out of nowhere, he could see how the demand for sawn boards would be much higher. Plenty of folks in tents or log cabins would want to upgrade, at least to wooden floors. In fact, the Ruiz family themselves might be interested in doing so at some point.
Skyler was more interested in what it hinted about the man's own opinion. “What do you think of the League's presence here?” he asked.
Mr. Ruiz hesitated. “It's never good to look a gift horse in the mouth,” he said slowly. “They've been a blessing, that can't be argued. But in a way they've also held us back.”
Skyler blinked. “Oh?”
Adalia rolled her eyes. “This again, Dad?” Around the table the rest of the family were groaning or hiding grins.
The older homesteader held up his h
ands. “Now don't get me wrong. It's just that trade is trade, isn't it? Sure, the League provides better goods than anywhere else. But they also demand higher prices, and they mostly only deal with the ranchers and businesses in town. Also the fact they're trading with us kind of squelches trade with anywhere else, since nobody can compete with goods produced with technology and shipped in vehicles.”
Skyler hadn't considered the situation that way; did the same hold true in New Emery? “That does seem like it would have some downsides.”
Mr. Ruiz nodded, giving him a satisfied look. “You could argue that sort of trade is worse for homesteaders like us than if they left us alone. And sure, their patrols keep order as they can, but they're often weeks apart. Anyway most of their focus is on kicking new settlers out when they come through, not policing crime or hunting bandits.”
“What if they didn't do even that?” Skyler asked. “I've heard you sometimes get hundreds, even as many as a thousand, settlers a year. People with nothing, usually, who need a lot of help before they can get a fresh start and fend for themselves. They'd swamp this place.”
Mrs. Ruiz cleared her throat gently. “To be fair, most of the rumors of Lone Valley's prosperity come from our trade with the Northern League. Without their intervention we might get a few people hearing about the valley's fertile soil who come here to farm, but a lot of those hoping for a handout or with unrealistic expectations about the opportunities wouldn't come around.”
“We were all settlers here at one point,” her husband agreed. “My family has been here longer than just about anyone. We arrived at the League's border seeking refuge right as the war ended and were immediately turned back. And while Sangue was pushed out of the States, their remnants in Mexico are still a pestilence in spite of the mostly successful revolution carried out by my people back home. So it wasn't and still isn't safe to return.”