by Reed, N. C.
“We'll look at it,” Jose promised, having been thinking the same thing. “We can always put the smaller children at the house, and they can head to the basement in case of trouble.”
“Fine idea,” Clay agreed. “All right. Let’s get assignments out and vehicles ready to go. No one who's on the roster to go tomorrow is on watch tonight, so those staying will have to double up. Sorry. But this should be the last time we have to deal with this, at least for a while. Let’s make it work.”
-
“I wish I could go,” Sam almost pouted. “Abby is going!”
“Abby can't man the tower, either,” Gordy almost smirked as his sister frowned at the reminder that her childhood friend could out shoot her. “We need all hands on deck for this. Abby is making the trip to help load and to drive one of the trucks pulling a trailer.”
“I can do that!” Sam exclaimed.
“You can also shoot,” Gordy reminded her. “With Heath going to do over-watch for the loading, we need you and Gary on the towers. Jody is staying to man the cupola. Tomorrow will be a full alert, with all activities suspended until we return. Remember there's a rogue outfit running around that's well armed and may have vehicles as good as our or even better. We have to take every precaution we can. But this is an ideal opportunity to score an entire herd of breeding stock horses that we really need, or will going forward. Not to mention a house full of furniture that Charley wants to let others use if she can't, and her father's not inconsiderable tool chest. That includes leather tools for making tack and saddles, too. We need this,” he stressed.
“Charley, is it?” Sam raised an eyebrow.
“Is that all you heard?” Gordy sighed. “Her name is Charlene, and everyone calls her Charley. So I do, too.”
“Fine,” Sam almost snorted in anger and Abby turned to hide her face so her brother couldn't see her fighting against the laughter that wanted to bubble out. Sam had a temper and her brother was learning that the hard way, now.
“I'm too tired for this,” Gordy said flatly. “Abby, five o'clock,” he said to his sister before heading to his own room and closing the door.
“Sam,” Abby said after a minute of watching her friend fume, “I'm going to give you some free advice. Take it or don't, I mean this as a friend. Practically a sister, even.” Sam nodded at that.
“Don't do that with Gordy,” she warned. “He won't put up with it, and he doesn't deserve it. He doesn't know how to be disloyal or unfaithful. As long as the two of you are together, then he's with you and no one else. Don't be jealous, or even pretend to be jealous. It won't get you anything and it will try his patience. He's been raised to be a good man, and he is. If you can't have faith in him, completely, then you may be pumping a dry well. Understand?”
“I want to go,” Sam almost growled.
“And they need you here,” Abby nodded. “Take it from someone who learned the hard way; do what you're told and be where you're needed. If you aren't, someone will pay for it, and it might be someone important to you. Don't risk that. Gordy's not looking at anyone else but you. If you think he is then you're not looking. And that's on you, not him. Let this kind of stuff go, Sam. It's trouble that doesn't exist.”
“I hear you,” Sam nodded jerkily. “I'm not... I'm not distrustful of him,” she said. “I'm afraid,” she added softly.
“Of what?” Abby asked.
“Of him going off somewhere like this and not coming back,” Sam admitted.
“And you think if you're there it will change it?” Abby asked.
“Yes… No… Maybe,” Sam changed her answers as soon as they left her mouth. “I don't know,” she threw her hands into the air. “I don't seem to know anything for sure these days except that I'm scared.”
“Maybe you should talk to Lainie,” Abby suggested. “Or Martina, or Beverly. They would understand how and what you're feeling. Maybe they know a secret to dealing with it. It can't hurt to ask.”
“But you may as well accept and get used to this,” Abby continued after a brief pause. “Gordy is what he is. This is part of what he is. Just like the rest of them. Hopefully this is one of the last times they do this for a while, be we can't know. We've had things pretty good up to now, but that can't last. It won't last. So, you have to toughen up while you have the chance. So do I. So do all of us. We may as well get started now.”
The room fell into silence as Sam thought about what Abby had said, and Abby thought about the fact that tomorrow she was one of the people 'going out'. Tomorrow she'd see it from a different perspective. She'd always wanted to be more active, ever since things had happened like they had.
Now that she had it, she was no longer so sure of herself. She decided that tomorrow would teach her, one way or another.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“This is not an auspicious beginning,” Clay blew his breath out in one harsh sound.
“It's just a flat tire, man,” Jose objected. “Happens all the time.”
Nearby a group of people were swarming around one of the fifth-wheel carrying trucks, removing the interior wheel from the dual tires on the driver's side. Had they not checked everything before leaving they'd likely not have realized it was flat until they tried to put a load onto the truck. At which point it would have caused major concerns.
“We'll be finished in about ten minutes,” Jake promised. “It's just a little extra time to get the outer wheel off. No sweat.”
True to his word, the truck was ready in ten minutes. Clay and the others had spent that time ensuring all the other vehicles were also ready. Clay looked to where his father's crew cab truck sat in line with Abby at the wheel. Terri Hartwell was in the passenger seat while the rear seat held Charley Wilmeth and a surprising, last minute addition in the form of Daisy Webb. She had decided that she would go along to keep an eye on Charley, thereby freeing up someone more able than her to do physical labor. Clay had no objected, though he wondered at Daisy's seemingly newfound confidence in leaving the farm. He hoped that was a good sign for her future recovery.
“Spin it up!” Clay yelled, making a spinning motion above his head with one hand, finger extended. He climbed aboard the Gray Ghost, Heath Kelly at the wheel and Zach on the gun.
“Move out, check in when moving,” Clay ordered.
“Thug Life, moving,” Mitchell reported, the small Cougar heading up the column.
“Beast, rolling,” Tandi was next to call in.
“Cop One moving,” Xavier reported as Sienna hit the gas.
One by one the rest called in until finally Heath was rolling, the entire convoy on the way. It was already light enough not to need night vision gear, thus one part of the plan already thoroughly shot. Clay tried to fight his annoyance at the idea that their schedule was starting off behind. It was what it was.
The trip to the Wilmeth ranch was quiet, and surprisingly trouble free. Clay had honestly expected at least some minimal difficulties along the way, not to mention the danger of running into hostile forces. Neither happened, however, and the convoy arrived unmolested at the Wilmeth house.
Clay looked the place over as he dismounted, judging it to be a well put together operation with an almost elegant ranch style home and well-maintained outbuildings and barns. The horse style barns would have been a dead giveaway that the Wilmeth clan raised horses even if they hadn't known already. Several head were visible in the morning light, including several beautiful Palominos running short distances in the nearest pasture.
“Nice,” Gordy said at his side, annoying Clay as he hadn't noticed his nephew approaching.
“They are indeed,” Clay agreed. “Let’s get things moving. Start loading horses. We'll load the hauler last, since they'll have it the hardest. Tell Roddy to get that trailer backed in beside the house where we can load Charley's furniture and some of the gear at the same time. We're on the clock, here.”
Soon enough, people were moving out of the house carrying hastily packed tubs and boxes, furniture and fi
xtures. Daisy and Charley were inside, packing as much as they could in the time allowed, including her clothing and usable things such as cook vessels. One of the things that she had was an antique Monarch wood cook stove. Clay had taken one look at it and ordered it loaded, overruling objections from the loaders who complained it was too heavy.
Meanwhile another group was steadily loading the contents of Mister Wilmeth's workshop into the box truck the farm had taken in the 'plunder' from their battle in Jordan. It had seemed little enough in return for their help at the time, and now, with the attitude they were getting from Jordan it seemed like nothing. But at least they had it. It was paying dividends now as they crammed it full of every tool and piece of equipment Charley's father had owned that would possibly fit inside.
Finally, Gordy, Abby, Terri, Dee Talbot and Kurtis Montana were loading the horses. Charley had come outside for the few minutes it had taken to point out the problem stallions and the handful of other horses that really needed to ride in the horse trailers before returning to continue supervising the packing of her house.
The three horse trailers owned by the Wilmeth family were loaded first, for a total of fourteen horses out of a total of sixty-three. That still left thirty-nine more to try and cram into the stock hauler.
“These trailers ain't made to haul horses,” Kurtis pointed out as they started. “I mean, they can, in a pinch like this, but it ain't what they're built for.”
“Can we get all the remaining horses into the trailer?” Abby wanted to know.
“Maybe,” Kurtis examined the trailer and then turned to look at the horses milling around near the gate. “I'm just saying this thing ain't made for it. We're gonna have to be careful. Horses are a lot more active and skittish than cattle when they're moving. Most of these are mares at least, and they tend to be a bit more calm, but some are geldings and they still think o' themselves as stallions, so we need to be careful. Keep them apart from one another if we can.”
“You choose them out and we'll load them up,” Gordy suggested. Kurtis nodded and began doing just that.
“Remember, they ain't gonna like getting in there,” Kurtis pointed out. “Be careful.”
It took far longer than it should have to maneuver the horses into the hauler and try to separate them out where they wouldn't do each other harm. It was fortunate that the trip to the farm wouldn't last that long since the horses were definitely salty going aboard the trailer.
“You about finished?” Clay approached them some time afterward, though none could have said how long it had been.
“We're getting there,” Gordy promised.
“Well, the rest are just about ready to go,” Clay sounded as if he was put out that the horses weren't loaded.
“I imagine them boxes didn't put up near the fight some of the horses did,” his nephew raised an eyebrow at his Uncle's testiness. “We'll be finished in a few minutes. We got nine,” he looked back, “now eight, eight horses to go. The rest are loaded and waiting.”
“Well, shove 'em aboard and let’s get going,” Clay ordered.
“That ain't how it works,” Kurtis called from where he was trying to halter lead a particularly feisty gelding onto the trailer. “You don't shove a horse nowhere he don't aim to go. Figured a man who worked cattle would know that.”
“He ain't really got the same amount of experience as the rest of us,” Abby mentioned. “He's been gone a long while. And in his defense, our horses respond better to us, so we don't usually have a problem. Of course, we don't generally haul this many together, neither,” she added with a sort of twisted smile.
“Ten minutes or so and we should be good,” Gordy semi-promised.
“Ten minutes,” Clay nodded and more or less stalked away.
“What's in his bonnet?” Dee Talbot asked.
“There's an outfit similar to ours going around raiding folks,” Gordy informed her. “We're a target out here, and the farm is a target too. And when we're out here, we aren't defending the farm. He's got a lot on him.”
“Oh,” the former professor said quietly. “Well, we need to hurry along then.”
“That we do.”
-
Eight minutes later Gordy called Clay to inform him they were loaded.
“Daisy, has Charley made sure of everything she wanted?” Clay asked.
“Yes,” Daisy assured him. “We've walked the house twice, and she checked the tool shed and tack buildings, too. We've not left anything of value or that we can use.”
“Get loaded then,” he ordered gently. “All vehicles, sound off in order,” Clay called. Each vehicle checked in ready to go, using the same marching order as on the trip in.
“Thug, lets move out,” Clay called as soon as the last vehicle called in as ready. “Best speed, which will be what the hauler and horse trailers can manage.”
“Roger that,” Mitchell replied. “Thug Life is moving.”
The convoy moved in slow fits and starts for the first five minutes, further frustrating a tense Clayton, but there was nothing to be done for it. Vehicles were very nearly over loaded as opposed to being empty on the trip over, and it took a few minutes for the drivers to get accustomed to the different handling. The worst was Roddy Thatcher driving the stock trailer full of less than happy horses. Terri Hartwell had volunteered to ride with him just to work the radio and help watch the road so that he could focus all his attention on driving and only what was in front of him.
“Man, this is way worse than hauling cattle,” he told her softly as the trailer rocked again. “Usually they'd settle down. I don't think the horses are gonna do that for us.”
“It's not far,” Terri reminded him, her eyes roaming ahead of them. “If we had any tranquilizer, I'd have given then just enough to keep them calm, but what little we have wouldn't have done the trick. Maybe we should have brought a box of apples or something. Sometimes that helps.”
“If we see a produce stand, we'll pull over,” Roddy joked.
“Works for me.”
Three vehicles back, Abby watched as the cattle hauler swayed far too much for her liking while they navigated the country road back to the slightly better country road that would lead them home. Charley Wilmeth was lying in the back seat, exhausted, while Daisy Webb had joined Abby up front.
“That has to be hard to drive,” Daisy remarked.
“It is, and that's just with cattle,” Abby agreed. “With those horses having a fit, it's a wonder Roddy can keep it on the road.”
“Are we even going to make it back?” Daisy asked hesitantly.
“Of course,” Abby replied at once. “May take a minute or two more than getting here did, since we've got to take it easy, but we'll get there. Probably not by lunch, which is what I was hoping for,” she sighed dramatically and Daisy laughed.
“I need your metabolism,” the older woman told her.
“It's not my metabolism as much as it's I'm always moving,” Abby snorted. “Before all of this started, I was fighting wildfires, and when I was off, I was working the ranch or helping Uncle Ronny with his side business. I think I usually slept maybe five hours a night, unless I got called out. I've actually gotten more rest since the apocalypse started!” she laughed, causing Daisy to laugh yet again.
-
Angela Sanders watched Carlene Goodrum closely as the other woman helped inspect the seed gardens. The job was too important to just check once or twice a week, so every day they checked the plants and stalks for the least sign of trouble. These plants would form the nucleus of plantings for seasons to come, which made them vitally important to everyone on the ranch. Even the full alert status did not exclude the seed garden from being serviced every day. It was that important.
Carlene had slipped away without going to the clinic the day before as Angela had instructed her, and was wearing long sleeves again today despite the heat and humidity. Angela was starting to sense a pattern to all this, and it was a pattern she didn't care for in the least
.
In the past, as part of her work with the church, Angela had helped battered women from across the county recover from their trauma, both emotional and physical. Abuse took many forms and not all of them left marks, but Angela suspected that Carlene was hiding the signs of physical abuse from the rest of the farm, and that her husband, Darrell, was not only abusing her, but had been for some time.
But Angela had placed herself in a position where she had little real authority on the farm anymore, and thus had to be sure before she could act. Without proof, she would not be taken seriously, and once the accusation was made, Darrell Goodrum would know someone was wise to his ways. She decided that since Carlene had resisted the idea of going to be checked out at the clinic, Angela would deceive her into it.
“Ow,” Angela cried out, dropping her small shovel and going to one knee, holding her right ankle.
“Miss Angela, are you okay?” Olivia called out, moving toward the woman who had taken her and her sisters in without hesitation.
“I... I think I sprained my ankle,” Angela stammered. “I turned it as I was moving down the row.”
“Can you put weight on it?” Olivia arrived, bending to check her ankle.
“No, child, I don't think so,” Angela shook her head as if in pain. “Carlene, can you and Olivia lend me a shoulder to get to the clinic? With this silly alert thing on, I can't call anyone to help.”
“Of course,” Carlene was already making her way slowly to where Angela was kneeling. She was clearly in pain herself, but tried to hide it.
“Let’s get you up, Miss Angela,” Olivia said, placing a slender shoulder beneath Angela's arm and lifting with surprising strength. Carlene moved to Angela's other side, and Angela noted that the other woman was careful to keep her ribs away from Angela's side.