Orphan Maker (12 page)

Gwen pretended to read her book as she watched Loomis. When she wasn’t being an asshole, Loomis was really a sweet person. She hadn’t given Gwen any crap for being scared of going into the basement the night before, just acted like it was perfectly normal for her to be a chickenshit about descending into the blackness. The creepy vibe that had started when Loomis had shown such compassion for the Phillips family had reached its pinnacle by then, and Gwen couldn’t help being reminded of the grave so recently dug in the backyard, couldn’t bring herself to follow either of her companions down the stairs.

She shivered though it was a sunny day, and tried to return her attention to the book. Instead she heard voices in the distance and sat up to look around. They neared a house where another homestead loaded up a more conventional-looking wagon. There were five of them, all townies, busy as ants as they transferred furniture and goods from a traditional ranch house to their transportation. Gwen was a little sad that no Gatos were in evidence. She hadn’t spent this much time away from the gang since joining them. She missed seeing their faces.

“Loomis!” one of the women called.

“Hey, Annie!” Loomis hollered back. “Pull up, Terry. Let’s catch some news.”

Terry steered the horses closer and brought them to a halt as the woman who had greeted them walked closer.

“How’s it going?” The woman nodded a greeting to Terry. She was seventeen or eighteen by the looks of it, with white-blond hair and pale blue eyes.

Gwen scowled, not liking Loomis’s easy way with her.

“Not bad.” Loomis turned in the saddle and gestured. “This is Gwen. This is Annie Faber. Her homestead keeps bees and supplies us with honey.”

Eyes widening at the sudden attention, Gwen quashed her dislike and tried to appear neutral. “Nice to meet you,” she dredged up from her distant past. A fleeting frown crossed Loomis’s face, but she turned back to Annie rather than take Gwen to task. Gwen breathed a sigh of relief.

“Find anything interesting?”

Annie laughed, taking Tempest’s bridle in hand and rubbing his forehead, her manner too friendly for Gwen’s taste. “Yeah. We lucked into an avid hunter and fisher here. You?”

“We’ve got a baby in the family now. Picked up clothes and a crib.”

“That’s a lot of clothes,” Annie observed lightly.

Alarm bells went off in Gwen’s head. This little
chica
was showing far too much attention to their haul. Gwen turned to study the others in Annie’s crew, wondering if they packed weapons. Neither Loomis nor Terry seemed particularly threatened; were they being lulled because of their familiarity with this bitch? That was an attack waiting to happen, in Gwen’s book. You only trusted people in your own crew, or you were dog meat. Loomis chuckled, and Gwen frowned further. At the church, Loomis seemed guarded even though her people surrounded her. Yet, here she was, at ease with this little dime piece in the middle of a dead town. Was something more going on here?

“How many did you take in?” Annie asked.

“Four. How about you?”

“Two.”

Loomis dismounted, tying her horse’s reins to the cart. “Let me show you something.” She led Annie around to the other side and untied the tarp. Terry clambered over to help, and they pulled the covering back far enough to reveal one of the camp beds. “We’ve got no use for this. It comes with a homemade mattress that’s in decent condition. You want to trade?”

Annie grinned. Gwen decided she really didn’t like how pretty it made her. “Well, now that you mention it, we did run across something we don’t have a use for. When I said avid fisher, I meant they had a nice little boat parked in the back. You’ve still got solar panels, right?”

“Yeah.”

The blonde wiggled her eyebrows. “I’ve got a heavy-duty boat battery.”

Gwen’s brow furrowed. She remembered seeing the solar panels at the homestead, but had thought them simply a remnant of a society that once ran on electricity. Loomis had commented twice that she wanted to pick up a fan motor before heading back, and it suddenly occurred to Gwen that the homestead actually had power—at the very least enough to run fans. She castigated herself for being an idiot. She’d let her intrigue with Loomis get in the way of her common sense. What else had she missed while drooling over her? By the time she refocused on the here and now, Loomis was walking away with that blond bitch. They waved at Annie’s crew as they passed and disappeared around the corner of the house. Terry had also left the cart, strutting around with the other townies as he bragged about finding paper. Were they stupid? Didn’t any of them know discretion? If people knew what you had, they knew where to steal what they wanted.

She glanced around the cart, finding only Terry’s bow within reach. He still had his rifle strapped across his back. Since she didn’t know shit about bows and arrows, she left it alone. Tempest was tied to the wagon, but there was no rifle scabbard attached to his saddle. Gwen remembered the swords, and scrambled over the load to locate them. She wouldn’t be able to do much with one, but maybe she could scare away the poachers long enough for Loomis to use her pistol. Loomis stayed away long enough for Gwen to worry whether or not Annie had gotten the drop on her. About the time she decided to go after them, they came back around the side of the house, Loomis pushing a wheelbarrow. Annie still chatted amicably with her, reaching out to touch Loomis’s arm as she made a point in their conversation. Gwen’s fear of attack was lost in a desire to take the woman’s hand off at the wrist.

As they neared, Loomis called, “Gwen, open the back of the cart.”

She stared for a moment, her hand gripping the hilt of the sword. If she let go and this was a trick—

“Hurry up! This thing’s heavy.”

Gwen’s lips thinned. She tucked the sword under her mattress. Climbing from the cart, she unlatched the back, letting it fall open.

Loomis parked the wheelbarrow and stepped forward to rearrange the load. “Terry, get over here.” She instructed the boy to get one of the camp beds and mattresses out for the trade.

Gwen kept her eye on Annie’s crew, not liking that Loomis was leaving herself open to potential attack.

When enough space was cleared, Loomis glanced at Gwen, a calculating expression on her face. Then she turned to Annie. “Want to give me a hand here?”

“Sure.”

Gwen frowned, knowing that Loomis didn’t think her strong enough to help move the battery. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t, just that Loomis had dismissed her ability so quickly. She didn’t enjoy that Loomis and this little dime piece now had to rub shoulders as they transferred the heavy item to the cart.

Terry trotted around and put the bed frame into the empty wheelbarrow. “Gwen, can I use the mattress you’ve got? The other one’s buried.”

Surprised he had asked, Gwen stared a moment before answering. “Go ahead.”

Loomis closed the cart as Terry pulled the mattress down, depositing it in the wheelbarrow, too. “Thanks, Annie. Here’s hoping it’ll take a charge.”

Gwen grimaced as they shook hands and climbed back into the cart. She watched out of the corner of her eye, noting that Annie seemed reluctant to let go. When Loomis had said she’d never had any boyfriends, did that mean she’d had girlfriends? It would certainly make Gwen’s life easier if that was so. It would also make things more difficult if there were girls all over Lindsay Crossing who had a history with Loomis.

“Um, about the newcomers.” Annie lowered her voice.

Pretending indifference, Gwen’s ears perked up. Was this one a hater too?

Annie tucked her hands into her pockets. “I was talking to Micah, one of our new ones, and he told me something I think you should know.” Obviously uncomfortable, she looked away and Gwen’s eyes narrowed.

“What is it?” Loomis still held the side of the cart with one hand.

“He said that Riddick told them about us.”

Loomis blanched, her freckles stark against her pallid face. The knuckles on her hand turned just as white as she gripped the metal door. She turned away, her searching gaze locking with Gwen’s. “Is that so?” she asked, her voice strained.

Gwen didn’t know if she was asking Annie or her. All she could do was stare into the haunted eyes of her benefactor. Before she could respond, Annie put her hand on Loomis’s shoulder.

“Yeah, that’s what he said. Riddick showed up a few years ago and stayed with them. He died a couple of months ago from an infected gunshot wound, but not before he told them about us.”

Loomis closed her eyes, and Gwen almost reached forward to comfort her.

“I didn’t want you to hear casual gossip about it, Marissa. Give you a chance to get used to the idea before the next Festival.”

The color returned to Loomis’s face, and she swallowed hard. “Thanks, Annie. I appreciate that.” She took a deep breath, her movements shaky. When she opened her eyes again, they were calm and strong. “We’d best be getting home.”

“You going to be okay?”

Loomis called up a ghost of a smile, but Gwen saw how much it cost her. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. It was a long time ago.”

Annie nodded, not entirely convinced. “Then I’ll see you at Festival.”

“Yep.” Loomis gave the cart door another rattle to make sure it was secure. She went around to gather Tempest’s reins. Once mounted, she turned back. “Hey, Annie, Cara said we needed another gallon of honey. Can I send Rick out to get it?”

“That’d be fine. If we’re not back by then, just let Malcolm know I spoke to you.”

“All right. See you in a couple of weeks.”

The cart jerked, and Gwen watched as they pulled away from Annie and her crew. She knew Riddick had a bad reputation from the Gatos’ arrival in Lindsay Crossing, but it seemed there was something very personal about Loomis’s response. What had happened? Her mind full of questions, she hardly noticed that without her mattress the ride was just as hard as before.

***

In their travels to the house on Jasper Lane, they encountered one other family involved in the scavenging process. Again they stopped to talk. After a brief discussion, a package of sewing needles and two spools of thread were traded for a couple of quart canning jars. Loomis was more reserved with this group, quickly negotiating the transaction and pushing onward.

Gwen shifted where she sat, disgruntled as something under the tarp poked her in the thigh. Loomis remained subdued and distant as she rode, acting as she had on the trip into town the day before. Gwen scowled at her unread book. She had enjoyed Loomis opening up to her. Now it seemed she would have to start all over again. It had been the mention of Riddick that caused this sudden distance. Gwen wanted to march her ass back to that bitch, Annie Faber, and give her a beating she wouldn’t soon forget.

They stopped at a tidy little house. Loomis dismounted. “You two stay here.” She rummaged in her saddlebags for a screwdriver and a pair of pliers. “I won’t be long.”

Watching her walk away, Gwen pouted. Loomis hadn’t even looked at her since Annie’s apparent bombshell, as if she’d thought Gwen had been hiding something by not mentioning that asshole’s name. Would Loomis make her sleep in the living room or with Cara now? It was totally unfair. It wasn’t her fault Riddick was with the Gatos or opened his fat mouth about Lindsay Crossing!What the hell did that fucker do to turn everybody against him? What had he done to Loomis to cause that tormented expression? Glum, she ignored Loomis’s return, pretending to read her book. While a part of her wanted to be left alone to sulk, she became even more sullen when Loomis didn’t bother to speak to her. The exasperating woman simply deposited the motor in the cart, climbed aboard her horse and got back to the business of going home.

They traveled for some time, crossing the edge of the town limits and trundling up the road with their booty. Another cart passed, similar to theirs, this one pulled by a bull. Loomis greeted the three boys in it, but didn’t stop. Gwen began to worry. She gave up trying to read and watched the passing countryside, stealing peeks at Loomis’s profile. The woman no longer scanned their surroundings for potential danger, staring into the distance instead. She looked stern, angry even, her frown etching deep lines between her eyebrows.

Unable to stand the silence any longer, Gwen awkwardly crawled across the moving cart until she was near the side Loomis rode along. “Are you okay?”

Loomis blinked, coming out of her thoughts to stare at Gwen. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice sharp.

Gwen glanced over at Terry who studiously looked the other direction. Coward. “No you’re not. You’ve been upset since you talked to that b…to Annie.” She breathed a sigh of relief that she’d stopped herself from calling the woman a bitch. Sending Loomis into an angry snit wouldn’t help Gwen find out what was going on inside her head. “It’s about Riddick.”

The mere mention of his name caused a reaction. Loomis’s jaw convulsed under her skin as she ground her teeth, and her nose twitched as if smelling something bad. “So what if it is?”

She refused to flinch away from Loomis’s fury. That would only show her to be powerless. Loomis didn’t need or deserve a weak woman at her side. Terry was now doing his best impersonation of a deaf man, humming to himself to keep from overhearing their conversation. She focused her attention on Loomis, keeping her tone calm. “I don’t know what that cracker did, but I know people here don’t like him. If you want, I’ll try to answer any questions you have.”

Loomis’s anger seemed to recede. She peered closely at Gwen, as if measuring her sincerity. “How long did you know him?” she finally asked in a low voice.

Gwen thought a moment. “Maybe four years. He was with the Gatos before I was.”

Confusion crossed Loomis’s face. She shook her head slightly, as if quelling a stray thought. “How’d he die?”

“Like Annie said. An infected gunshot wound.” Gwen looked away, remembering. “We found a stash of canned goods in a wrecked delivery truck. Weasel sent the soldiers out to collect it, but it was an ambush set up by the Dragons. They scragged four of our guys and wounded three others. Riddick got shot in the leg.”