WWIV - Basin of Secrets

by lake, e a

  “I’d like to know, if it’s possible,” she began rapidly, “if there’s any way that my mother could be reunited with my grandparents?” Her large blue eyes began to tear as she spoke of her absent family members.

  After careful thought he nodded several times. “Well, that may be difficult, you know.” Willow focused on his eyes as he pondered the situation further. “Mom, of course, has been sent to the south to work in the fields. Grandma and Grandpa have been taken to a place with other seniors.”

  “I understand that sir, but I thought maybe…” Her eyes fell to her hands, twisting in her lap.

  Tarlisch reached and raised her chin with a single finger. “It may take several days, but I think I can have them reunited. If that’s what you want, of course.”

  Willow’s eyes opened wide, as a smile spread across her young face. “Yes, very much. Please sir, please. My grandparents are old and haven’t been apart from us since, well, since this all started. So if they could at least be with my mother, I know they’d be happy.”

  Turning away, Willem considered her request. “If it’s what you really want my darling, then so be it. Before the end of tomorrow, they will be reunited. I promise.”

  Willow leapt to her feet and hugged Willem tightly. Kissing his cheek, she whispered in his ear. “Thank you sir, thank you.”

  Tarlisch rose and patted her thin shoulders. “Of course, anything for you, Willow.” Smiling, he led her to the door, arm in arm. “But really, you must call me Willem. Please.”

  Happy, Willow agreed. “Yes, Willem. And thank you again, Willem.” She skipped out the door as Tarlisch called for Howard. Closing the door as he entered, Tarlisch grinned at his second.

  “Young Willow has a request for us,” Willem stated. “She’d like us to have her grandparents and mom in one place. I told her we would take care of that.” Turning back to his folders, he chuckled. “So, Howard, take care of it.”

  Frowning, Howard exhaled loudly. “Well, let’s think about that, Will. The old folks are out in the salt flats with the other old people. Mom is down on the south end of town in the gardens.” Leaning forward to capture Willem’s attention, he continued. “So you want me to bring them all back here to Salt Lake and put them back in that mansion of theirs. That’s quite a plan, boss.”

  Rubbing the two days growth on his face, Willem considered Howard’s heartfelt opinions. “No,” he began. “I want you to go grab mom and haul her fat ass out to the flats. Then, if you can multitask, I want you – and a few of your best – to get out to that mansion of theirs and burn it to the ground.” Turning to focus on Howard, Willem’s face hardened. “And while you’re at it, burn the Kane and Cormat homes as well.”

  “You know, old people are already dying out in the flats. Grandpa and Grandma could be dead already,” Howard stated.

  Tarlisch grabbed a folder from the table and chuckled as he shot Howard a faux shocked expression. “But what I am to do, Howard? I promised poor Willow.” Slapping Howard’s chest with the file, Willem strode for his office. “Haul Stella Williamson out to the desert, and then go burn those mansions down. Willow will be happy I acquiesced to her request, and we won’t have to worry about any of those vermin returning to their old haunts.” As he flopped in his chair, Willem let out an evil laugh. “Willow is happy, and now I’m happy. What a great day, Howard. What a great day.”

  The sound of boots slapping the hall floor shot through the first floor of the old Salt Lake Masonic Temple. People jumped aside as Lieutenant Landry sprinted past to Willem’s office. If not for her running, the pensive look covering her face would have easily moved the bystanders aside.

  “Willem,” she called out breathlessly. “I have news. News on Betsi Albrecht.” The old glass door rattled as she pushed it shut.

  Willem held up one finger. Melinda acknowledged his pause with a quick nod. Flipping the final pages in the file in front of him, he looked up. “Did you know,” Willem began deliberately, “that these idiots were intentionally starving the general population?”

  A pair of raised eyebrows showed Landry’s confusion. “What?”

  Willem rose. “Yes. They had twice as many people as they fessed up to. As a result, every person in Salt Lake was getting about half of what they needed to survive. That’s why most of them have gardens.” Turning, he focused on the afternoon sunshine outside. With his back to the lieutenant, he continued. “And yet, the top one percent ate like kings. No rations for them. They took the first, and they always took the finest.” Briefly glancing over his shoulder, he noticed her continued confusion. “If you don’t believe me Melinda, just take a peek at that folder,” he said in a low tone, his mood more subdued. “They were twice as corrupt as even I thought.” Giving one last sigh, he turned and gave her his full attention. “Now, what news do you have for me?”

  Melinda confidently stepped forward. “You’re going to like this, Will. You’re going to like this a lot.” Pulling a small piece of torn white paper from her back pocket, she read the journal entry aloud: “Dad knows something is about to happen. He doesn’t know when, but he knows it will happen soon. And right here in the Salt Lake Community.”

  Tarlisch sat against the windowsill, focusing on the woman’s deep voice. With a nod from him, she continued.

  “He has friends in the east. Friends that will help him, hide him if necessary. Old friends, good friends. The kind of people that would die for you.” Melinda looked up to find him frowning.

  “Is that all?” he asked.

  She flinched. “Um, yes sir.”

  Tarlisch looked past Melinda, lost in thought. “There are at least 12 camps just east of here in the Rockies. Even on horseback, it will take us a month to search every camp and all of the outposts.” Now he focused on Melinda’s face. “I need better info.”

  With narrowed eyes, Melinda held the note toward Willem. He shook her off. “East Willem, east. She doesn’t say south or north. She says east. Doesn’t that mean something?” The note fluttered to the desk between the pair.

  His glare intensified as he leaned forward on his desk. “They’re all east of here, Melinda. All of them. And every camp has spies and scouts. They’ll know we are coming once we hit the hills.” Shaking his head, he picked up the note and held it out for her. “I need to know which camp she’s headed for. Which camp her father is at. Not just a camp in the east.”

  Hanging her head, Melinda turned to leave. He watched as she shuffled pathetically for the door, like a punished teen.

  “Melinda,” he called. “Keep reading. Keep digging. You’ll find something. I just know I can count on you.”

  Finally a smile sprang across her face, and with renewed hope, she left. Tarlisch grinned as she disappeared.

  “Stupid girl,” he whispered to himself. “She just may find something important, in spite of herself.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The second night camping in the woods made Betsi no happier than the first. Jeremy tried to keep her mind off whatever it was she worried over, but she found his attempts lame at best, juvenile at worst. Finally, he plopped down on a stump across the fire from his wife of 10 years.

  “What gives, Bets?” he asked with a frown. “Nothing makes you happy anymore.”

  Staring almost through him, she could think of one thing that would make her happy. If he could just be quiet for longer than five seconds, she might actually smile. But since that wasn’t possible and he was her protection again tonight, she decided to play nice.

  “Just worried, that’s all,” she blandly responded. Looking away from the fire, away from him, she glanced at the moon in the crisp mountain air.

  “What about this time?” he inquired.

  Betsi whipped her head around, finding his face. Her eyes shot open wide, like two full moons staring at him through the fire. “Please tell me that question isn’t serious.” Rising quickly from her spot, she focused her stare tighter on him. “You know exactly what…who I’m worried abo
ut.”

  His brow furrowed, glancing away. She saw the hurt in his eyes. Wishing she could take back her sharp words, she crossed her arms, looking contrite.

  “I don’t mean to be short,” she added. “It’s just–”

  He cut her off. “I know, I know. I need to pay better attention. I need to think before I speak.” Tipping his head to the left, he shrugged. “I need to act like a man, your husband. Not some 36-year-old delinquent. Right?”

  She moved closer to him, and the fire. It was chilly up here tonight. “You understand this is bad, don’t you?”

  “I thought it was bad when the power went out,” he began, still staring at her. “When my mom died, that was bad. I mean we couldn’t even find a doctor to help by that time. When someone stabbed my little brother, and he didn’t die from the wound but later from the infection, it was bad.” He smiled at Betsi, he actually smiled, a real smile. Not some silly smirk, or a daydream grin, but a sincere smile. “But being married to you, Betsi, well – that makes everything seem better. Most of the time. I mean, I know I disappoint you a lot.” He reached for her hand, and she offered hers. His smile turned to a grin. “As long as I wake up next to you every morning, I figure it’s all going to be okay. Whatever life brings.”

  Sitting next to her man, she let her head dip to his shoulder. Betsi stared at the fire. “I’m just so focused right now, Jeremy. I have so many things on my mind. So many things bothering me. I don’t mean to be cruel – I hope you realize that.”

  He nodded slightly, also staring at the dancing flames. “I know sweetie. That’s why I don’t take it to heart when you snap at me,” he said, slipping his arm around her. “I can take it, Bets. You can count on me.”

  After eating a small meal, the two laid by the fire and enjoyed the last of the warmth radiating from the dying embers. Day was gone and soon the fire would be as well. Betsi decided to throw her husband a compliment. Something he would maybe receive as sincere. “You’re probably the best fire-maker I know, honey. Every time is perfect. What’s your secret?”

  Jeremy sat up, his face covered in a boyish grin. “Build a good base, then some small stuff and then add the bigger logs. Works every time.” Betsi noticed him sneaking a quick peek her way. “I would have thought you’d say your dad was better. Being in the militia and all.”

  Betsi chuckled once, watching at the waves in the red embers. “Oh the famous Captain Talbot Bond is efficient at many things. But living in the woods is not one of his strong suits.” She watched as Jeremy turned toward her and propped his elbow under his head.

  “He’s so good at strategy and motivating people. So effective when studying the needs of his ranks. He’s even a fair marksman, from what I remember. But surviving out here…” She waved her arms all around and up at the clear star filled sky. “…no, not very good.”

  “But he’s been out so many times. How’s that even possible?” Jeremy inquired.

  “I don’t know. They say he almost killed half the militia staff one night cooking chickens over an open hearth. Apparently, medium rare chicken is bad for you, he said later.” She felt her face soften thinking of her father. “He threw a bunch of wet leaves on a fire once, thinking they would burn because they were natural. Never mind he dug them out of a puddle, he was sure they would work just fine, he told the others.”

  Jeremy laughed out loud at her story. “Come on, he’s not that bad.”

  Betsi rolled her eyes. “He gets lost all the time, Jeremy. He’s famous for heading north when the call is to move south. Thank goodness for his lieutenants, otherwise he would have been lost years ago.” Jeremy laughed louder, as did Betsi. “He once rode three days in the wrong direction, legend has it. No one at that time had the courage to tell him he was headed the wrong way. So, when they got to a town that my Dad finally knew, he turned to his troops and said, ‘Well boys, this place is secure. Time to head south and check on others, I suppose.’”

  Betsi watched as Jeremy looked her way. His smile faded and he turned suddenly serious. “What happened down in Provo all those years back? You never told me the whole story. Only bits and pieces.”

  Thinking hard of where to begin, Betsi took a deep breath. “He was sent down there to work out a deal with Old Man Tarlisch and his eldest son Virgil. Henry was to give up some of his land, and the militia would bring down a bunch of people to work the fields. In return, the Tarlischs would receive protection from us. Well, the militia that is.”

  “Sounds fair enough,” Jeremy added, laying back focusing on the stars overhead.

  “Should have been,” Betsi quietly replied. “From what Dad always said, Henry and Virgil discussed it off to one side while the militia, about 30 of them, waited for their answer. Everyone knew the Tarlischs would agree. There was a lot of trouble down south of Salt Lake back then. A certain lawless element that wanted to make their own rules. Sort of like the old west.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Legend has it Willem joined the discussion with his dad and brother. Even though he was 32 at the time and Virgil was at least 37, perhaps even 38, Willem thought his voice should be heard. A pushing match broke out between the brothers after a bunch of yelling at one another. Finally, Henry broke them up and told my Dad no deal. If this deal tore brothers apart, it was a bad deal in his mind.” Betsi found herself lost in a memory based only on hearsay, and most of it only what her father had reported.

  A quick peek at Jeremy told her he was lost, as usual. She rolled over on her side to face him. “My father was dumbstruck. This was supposed to be the easiest deal the world had ever seen. And here was Henry Tarlisch, demanding he and the militia leave his land.”

  “Who shot first, Bets?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. That’s where the story always got fuzzy, even from Dad. He says one of the Tarlisch men brandished a weapon and the militia took it as a threat. I mean there was only a half-dozen or so of them against 30 militia. What could they have possibly seen as an alternative outcome?” Betsi shrugged. “When the bullets stopped flying, Henry and Virgil were dead, along with one of their foremen, some fellow named Melby. One of the militia was dead, another wounded. Willem and two other Tarlisch followers were taken prisoner, and the rest is history.”

  “So your dad banished them to the desert then?” Jeremy asked, yawning.

  “I don’t know, sweetie. Dad never told me that.” Reaching over, she patted his outstretched arms. “We need to get some sleep. Hopefully, we can get to Camp Eight tomorrow. Okay?”

  Another yawn and he nodded. “Good plan. Night babe. I love you,” Jeremy whispered, already drifting off.

  She didn’t bother to respond. Lost in the remainder of the real story, Betsi laid back and focused on the faint glow buried deep inside the almost dead fire. That damned Marshall Erickson. If he’d just left the Tarlischs alone, none of this would have ever happened. And then to send them to the salt flats. You got what you deserved from Willem, you bastard.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Cara and her assembly mates stared in disbelief at the family of nine standing outside of the front gate. Looking back to Chet for support, she questioned the family elders again. “You saw this with your own eyes? You were there by the temple when the shooting started?” she asked, unsure of what to believe.

  The heavy man – the supposed family leader – balked at her request. “I didn’t see it firsthand, but my neighbor was there, and when she came home, she was scared out of her wits.”

  Cara nodded thoughtfully. “Did you see any of these perpetrators?” A quick shake of his head gave her the answer. “Did you hear any of these shots?”

  “No ma’am. But my neighbor lady said she saw heads exploding up on stage with each shot.” The collective group blanched at the description. “Don’t mean to be so blunt, but that’s what she said she saw.”

  Cara pondered the situation further. “Did she have any idea who might have done this? Who would be evil enough to do something so
awful?”

  The man’s wife stepped forward. “It was that man and his gang from the south. The one that Captain Bond routed and chased out into the desert. Those guys with the red handkerchiefs.”

  “Willem Tarlisch.” A new voice came from behind the group, causing most to jump. Cara turned, recognizing Steven’s voice right off. “So what is he allegedly up to now?”

  “Steven,” Cara began, “this is Theodore Hanson and his family. From the Salt Lake Community.” Steven and the eldest man exchanged a handshake. “Mr. Hanson says they and others have fled Salt Lake because this group assassinated the mayor and council.” Her gaze focused on her husband’s unchanging face.

  “It’s possible,” Steven stated. “Not likely, but possible.”

  “Are you calling me a liar?!” Mr. Hanson shouted. “I was in town when it happened. My neighbor told me everything she and others saw. This man, this Tarlisch fellow, is set on revenge. Word has it he’s planning on hunting down Talbot Bond and his family.”

  Steven raised his hands apologetically. “I’m just saying that maybe something happened, but without a firsthand account of the facts, it’s sometimes hard to say just exactly what that something is.” Focusing on Cara, he continued. “Talbot Bond is Willem’s uncle. Rumor has it Talbot killed Willem’s father and brother. But I’ve never heard that from anyone who was there. Far as I know, it’s a myth. The Tarlischs and the Bonds are family. What he says just doesn’t add up.”

  Hanson stepped closer, more excited than before. “Erickson, Brushbrow and the whole council are dead. Something happened.”

  Steven stared back. “And you saw them, dead?”

  Hanson backed off. “No,” he replied, sounding less sure of himself.

  Steven turned toward the assembly. “Well, something happened down in Salt Lake. And it sounds like it could be serious. I don’t doubt any of what Mr. Hanson has said, but we could use some eyewitness accounts just to be sure. We should be on alert but probably not alarmed.” Moving closer to his wife, his eyes met hers. “But that’s just my opinion. It’s up to the assembly and their leader.” He turned back to Hanson. “They call the shots around here.”