The Borrowed World Series | Book 8 | Blood & Banjos

by Horton, Franklin

  Hugh raised his cup of coffee to Pete in a toast and offered a wide grin. He could hear Charlie inside, though his words were not loud enough for Hugh to hear. “C’mon out, Charlie. We need to talk a little bit.”

  “Shoes,” Pete said, apparently as much of a sentence as he could fabricate this early. He ducked back into the outpost.

  In a moment, both boys came crawling out the entrance, one after the other.

  “You shouldn’t sneak up on people,” Charlie complained.

  “It’s only dangerous if the people you’re sneaking up on are awake and paying attention,” Hugh replied.

  “You could at least have brought breakfast,” Pete said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  “You could have had breakfast ready for me,” Hugh said. “I guess we’re both disappointed.”

  Charlie had pulled all his gear out and was tucking his sleeping bag and ground cloth into his pack. “You have more questions about town?”

  Pete hopped up. “I don’t need to be part of this. I’m heading to the house and grab some breakfast.”

  “You can sit back down,” Charlie said.

  “You want to have this conversation in front of Pete?” Hugh asked.

  “No,” Pete said.

  “Yes,” Charlie said. “Whatever you got to say, he can hear it.”

  Pete sat back down, looking uncomfortable. “I’d just as soon not hear it.”

  “I think I know what you were up to in town the other night,” Hugh said, taking a sip of his coffee and staring at Charlie over the steaming cup.

  Charlie didn’t flinch from Hugh’s stare. “You think you know or you know?”

  “I know.”

  Charlie nodded his head and looked away. He was still nodding, tight-lipped. Pete was looking increasingly uncomfortable.

  Pete looked Hugh. “I didn’t know when we talked yesterday. Honest. I wasn’t lying to you.”

  “I know,” Hugh said. “You’re pretty transparent. I figure you found out after we talked.”

  Whatever was going through Charlie’s mind had run its course. He turned his eyes back to Hugh. “You here to give me shit? To run me off? To tell me you’re going to rat me out to everyone?”

  “Charlie, I’m not here for anything like that. You really expect that from me?”

  Charlie pointed toward Pete. “All I know is that you’re tight with his dad. With his dad gone, you’re kind of running the show. I’m guessing you don’t care why I did it. You just want me out.”

  “I don’t want you out and I doubt there’s anyone in this group of ours that wants that. You’re one of us. You’re family.”

  “My family is dead,” Charlie spat.

  “Son, you don’t really believe that. I know part of your family is dead, but I believe with all my heart that you’ve found a new family with this group. Am I wrong about that?”

  Pete seemed as interested in the answer as Hugh, watching for Charlie’s response.

  “You’re not wrong,” Charlie admitted. “You all are my family. That’s why I did what I did.”

  “You killed the guy who ran the corral, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And his son?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you okay with it?” Hugh asked.

  “I did what had to be done.”

  “I mean are you handling it okay?”

  Charlie looked confused. “I’ve killed people before. This isn’t the first time.”

  Hugh narrowed his eyes at Charlie. “This was different. You know it and I know it.”

  Charlie looked off into the fields. The sun rising through the morning fog gave his tanned face an orange cast. “I’m fine with it. Seriously. I might as well be, right? I don’t expect this is the last time I’m going to have to do this.”

  “You can’t think like that, man. You can’t just kill everyone you butt heads with.”

  “Can’t I?” Charlie asked, his tone accusatory.

  “No, you can’t,” Hugh replied.

  Charlie wasn’t buying it. “Listen, I’ve seen a lot in a year. I’ve seen that when we kill the threats to our community, everything goes well. When we let those threats grow and continue to be a thorn in our side, everything goes to hell. People get hurt. We get attacked. Pete’s dad has to run off to the mountains. I’m not a genius, Hugh, but I can figure this one out. The best option is to deal with threats when they show their face. Don’t give them a second chance. When people are scared of us, they leave us alone and that’s what I want. That’s what we all want.”

  “I’m hearing what you’re saying,” Hugh said, “but it’s not that simple.”

  Charlie made an exasperated sweep with his hand. “It’s exactly that easy. I watch what you guys do. Every kid in this valley does. We’ve all seen the same thing. You kill the threat and we’re rewarded. You leave the threat, we all suffer. It’s pretty fucking simple if you ask me.”

  Pete’s eyes grew wide. He’d never heard Charlie so fired up, especially when talking with Hugh. People figured Hugh was probably the most dangerous man in this entire valley and Pete hadn’t ever heard anyone talk to him this way.

  Hugh didn’t react to Charlie’s fury. He didn’t say anything at all. He took a sip of his coffee, leaned back against a log, and regarded the view down the valley.

  Figuring he may have overplayed his hand, Charlie apologized. “I’m sorry. I’m not pissed at you.”

  “I know you’re not,” Hugh replied. “No one is mad at you either.”

  Charlie let out a long breath, trying to release the tension in his body. “It feels that way.”

  “That’s because you’re holding a lot of anger inside of you. That’s why we’re having this conversation, Charlie.”

  Charlie looked confused. “You’re going to have to explain that one to me.”

  “You’re angry over what happened to your mom and dad. You’re angry over having to leave your home. That’s a lot to carry inside you and the last year has been kind of crazy. I’m sure it’s been a hard time to process those feelings.”

  “I’ve dealt with it.”

  “I know you have. I just want to make sure that when you pull the trigger on someone you can live with what you’ve done. It should never be casual. It should never be easy. It shouldn’t be something you do because you’re mad at the world.”

  Charlie nodded in understanding. “So you think I killed this guy because I’m mad over my parents dying?”

  “I’m not accusing you of that, Charlie. All I’m saying is that your life, the experiences you’ve had, put an extra burden on you. Those experiences could make anyone who’d lived through them carry a little hate inside them. For your own good, for your own peace, you need to keep that in mind. Every time you pull the trigger you need to ask yourself if your head is in the right place.”

  “Sometimes there’s no time for that,” Pete said. “Sometimes it happens fast.”

  “That’s combat and it’s different,” Hugh said. “I understand there’s no time for it then. There’s damn sure time when you’re walking into town in the middle of the night.”

  Charlie got the point. “Are you going to tell Jim about this?”

  “What do you want me to do?” Hugh asked.

  Charlie looked surprised. “Are you seriously asking me?”

  “Yes, I’m seriously asking you. Do you want me to tell Jim?”

  Charlie sat back and considered this. He looked to Pete for support but Pete just shrugged uncertainly. When Charlie looked back at Hugh, he nodded. “Tell him. I don’t care if he knows. I want him to understand what I’m willing to do for my friends. For my family.”

  “I get that. Just so you know, I’m here if you ever need anything. If you need to talk, if you have questions, just hit me up.”

  “I’m good,” Charlie said. “I got this.”

  Hugh took another sip of his coffee and found that what was left had already gotten cold. He drained it in a single long
drink, unwilling to toss good caffeine onto the ground. When he was done, he stood up and shook the cup out. He tipped his boonie hat to the boys. “I’ll see you all shortly.”

  He strode off through the high, dewy grass thinking about what he’d say to Jim when he returned. He was glad the boy agreed to him telling Jim what had taken place. He preferred not to have to go behind people’s backs. He wasn’t certain Charlie was fully under control though. He still saw the rage seething in that young man even if Charlie didn’t see it within himself. He suspected more people would die before those demons were purged.

  52

  Oliver’s House

  Not long past sunup, Kendall and his wife were tapping on the kitchen door. The kitchen was already packed with kids eating breakfast. Homemade yogurt with nuts and peaches had been the normal breakfast for the past few weeks. Jim, leaning against the countertop closest to the door, swung it open and gestured for them to come inside.

  Freda accepted his invitation but Kendall hung back. “Reckon I might talk to Sharon outside for a second? Y’all can come along if you want.”

  Sharon wiped her hands on a dishtowel and headed for the door. Freda took a seat at the table and started talking to the kids like they were her own grandchildren. When Jim, Lloyd, and Sharon were on the back porch, Kendall pulled the door shut.

  “I was thinking we might should run up to the camp this morning and take a look at things. There might be stuff you can salvage if we get to it before the rain comes.”

  Sharon looked uncertain. “Part of me doesn’t want to see it, but I know I need to.”

  “Freda came along to stay with the children. She’s good with young’uns.”

  Sharon smiled. “I can tell and I appreciate that. The kids need other people in their lives.”

  Jim cleared his throat. “We’re thinking the same woman that set that fire was here at the house last night.”

  Kendall’s eyes grew wide and his jaw went slack. “Here?”

  Sharon nodded. “One of the children got up in the night to get a drink of water and found her outside the back door. She apparently had a key and was trying to get in.”

  Kendall winced as if the news caused him physical pain. “She might have found a key when she was here during the funeral service. I doubt anyone ever gave her a key.”

  “These locks are old,” said Jim. “They’ve probably used the same keys since the house was built.”

  “I wonder what she wanted,” Kendall mused. “What could she hope to accomplish by coming into the house in the middle of the night?”

  “She wants to terrorize us into leaving,” Sharon spat. “And that’s not going to happen.”

  “It might be time to send a message,” Jim suggested, unable to keep quiet on the matter.

  Kendall looked at him suspiciously. “What kind of message are you talking about?”

  “I’d let her know that you’re not going to tolerate this. I’d send a very clear message that you’ll put a bullet in her fucking head if she shows her face again.”

  Kendall frowned. “Now listen, that may be the way that you’re used to handling things over in your neck of the woods, but that’s not how we do things here. We’re good people. We’re country folks and we like things quiet. We don’t go around killing our neighbors.”

  “She must not have got the memo,” Sharon said. “She’s not being good or quiet.”

  “She ain’t hurt anyone though,” Kendall pointed out. “She’s just riled up because she thinks she’s owed something. She’s more hurt and confused than anything else.”

  Sharon’s face flushed with anger. “I’m supposed to wait until she hurts someone? I’m supposed to let one of these children get hurt because she feels slighted?”

  Kendall held up his hands in a calming gesture. “I ain’t saying that either.”

  “Then what exactly are you saying?” Jim asked.

  Kendall gave Jim a look intended to remind him that he wasn’t from here. This wasn’t his fight. Yet Jim found himself in the middle of it and didn’t know what else to do. He couldn’t ignore the mess unfolding before his eyes.

  “Let us talk to her,” Kendall offered.

  Sharon appeared unconvinced. “Who’s us?”

  He tilted his head toward the kitchen. “Freda and me. Some of the other folks who came to the service. I believe she’ll listen to us.”

  Sharon, Jim, and Lloyd volleyed raised eyebrows and looks of disbelief between themselves.

  Kendall couldn’t miss the general sentiment. “You have to let us try. It’s how things are done.”

  There was a lot Jim could have said to that, but he was a guest here. Even with his poor boundaries, his impulsive behavior, and his general lack of social skills, he understood there were times to keep your mouth shut. He’d been raised right, despite what he’d become. He simply nodded at Kendall and smiled because he didn’t have a clue what else to do.

  53

  The Camp

  There’s a smell at campgrounds some mornings. It’s a mixture of morning campfires, along with the ash smell of burned-out fires from the previous night. That was the smell that hung in the valley as the riders approached the camp. Sharon rode in the lead, alone in her golf cart. Kendall was at her side, the two speaking occasionally as they followed the rough camp road. Jim and Lloyd hung back, almost feeling like interlopers, like voyeurs to the suffering of this group they’d dropped into.

  “This farm is huge,” Jim said, keeping his voice low. “I’d love to have a place this size.”

  “Thousands of acres,” Lloyd said. “It’s like a world unto itself. This camp was an amazing place to play music. I don’t know if it was the setting, the people, or what. I enjoyed it.”

  Jim could tell that his friend missed experiences like that. His life had been about playing music. It was all day, every day for him, with rarely a break. He didn’t want breaks. Playing for the children at Orbin’s place was the most alive Jim had seen him since he’d shown up at his place last year. He’d seen that spark in him again last night when he’d played for the children at Oliver’s house. If Lloyd had a purpose in life, that was it. Jim understood that about him but didn’t know how to help him. A man who could wield a gun was more likely to survive this world than a man who could wield a banjo. Both might kill you but the banjo took longer.

  They were all silent, reverent as they came within sight of the camp. It happened quickly. One moment they were on the tree-lined road, the next they were turning a bend into the camp. Lloyd paused in surprise and Jim reined his horse to a stop alongside him. Kendall came to a halt as well, only Sharon continuing on toward the remnants of the camp’s most popular structure.

  The building had been made entirely of wood with no masonry or drywall. A support post made from a peeled log was the tallest remaining point. It stretched from the rubble like a charred finger, smoke still rolling off it and disappearing into the morning sky. There were other pockets of smoke and glowing coals. Occasionally there was a pop from the thick bed of ashes.

  Jim could make out a stub of pipe extending from a toppled woodstove. There were pieces of charred kitchen equipment partially buried in the debris—a gas stove, refrigerators and freezers. Runs of blackened electrical wiring rose in lopsided arches. A stub of galvanized steel pipe burbled spring water into the ashes, a stream of black effluent running off into the weeds. The fire had been hot enough to char a wide circle. The trees nearest the building had half a canopy of green leaves, while the other half was cooked to a pale gray, already curling in death.

  It was an otherwise beautiful morning. Birds sang with no regard for the mourning of men. Goldfinches fluttered from thistle to thistle. Butterflies explored zinnias. Hummingbirds targeted sunflowers, the buzz of their wings loud and insectile. Then a choked sob broke that peace, Sharon breaking down at the sight of the destroyed building.

  Kendall climbed off his horse and wrapped her in a tight hug.

  “This camp was the
best thing that ever happened to me. Losing Oliver, this fire, is almost too much to bear!” she cried.

  “It was just a building,” Kendall assured her. “You and the kids are safe. That’s all that matters. When the country gets on its feet again, we can rebuild all this. There’s money for it. You can fix all the things that needed fixing over the years and it will be better than it ever was before.”

  Sharon pulled away from the hug. “I know. You’re right. It’s just hard.”

  He gave her a sympathetic smile. “I know, sweetie.”

  “For how long?” Jim asked.

  Sharon wiped at her tears, twisting in the cart seat to face Jim.

  Kendall looked at him confused. “For how long what?”

  “You said all that matters is that she and the children are safe. How long are they going to be safe with the people who did this still running loose out there?”

  Kendall shook his head in frustration, the same gesture you’d use for a dog that peed in the house despite your best efforts. “I told you back at the house that we were going to talk to Kimberly. We ain’t had a chance to do it yet. You’re just going to have to be patient.”

  Jim’s eyes bored into Kendall. Since the beginning of this national disaster, he’d had no patience for people who didn’t see the world as he did. He felt that he understood human nature a little better than some folks. This situation was nothing he hadn’t seen before. He knew how it would end. “Talk won’t accomplish a damn thing.”

  Kendall grew red in the face and waved a finger at Jim. “I’m a Christian man but you’re about to make me lose my religion. Maybe you ought to mind your own damn business and leave this to the folks who actually have a dog in the fight.”

  Jim raised both hands in surrender. “Fine.” He spun his horse and wandered off to check out other areas of the camp.

  Lloyd followed, catching up with Jim a short distance from the wreckage of the burned dining hall. “This isn’t our fight, Jim. We have to let them solve this their own way.”

  “This was probably a bad idea coming here. As much as I knew that it was the right thing to leave the valley when I did, I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. I’m ready to go back and fight. I’m not going to hide from the community any longer. I’m going to show my face wherever I want and dare people to say anything about it.”