Orphan Maker (16 page)

Loomis’s smile faded but didn’t completely disappear. “She is the first.”

Not wanting Loomis to withdraw from the conversation, Gwen changed the subject. “So if Cara and Terry are your cousins, where did Delia come from?”

“I babysat for her family that summer. They were a young couple, just moved into town after they got married. Delia’s dad worked with my uncle in the body shop. I had Rick help me drive the truck and check on her as soon as I got well enough to move. I didn’t think anybody else even knew she was there.”

“You were sick, too?”

“Yeah.” Loomis nodded and opened her eyes to look at her. “The price we paid for being oldest, I guess.”

“I guess.” Gwen nodded, not really wanting to revisit that time in her life. Had she known of any small children in her neighborhood? Would she have thought to search them out if she had? She shook her head to dispel those thoughts, pushing away the memories of a lonely crib sitting in the sun. “So how come Lindsay Crossing survived? I told you what we saw in the other dumps between here and the city. You figure anything out?”

Loomis brought her free hand to her head and propped it up. “I’m not sure. Maybe they didn’t have enough older kids willing to take charge.”

“Lots of people are willing to take charge,” Gwen said. “Not many have the skills, though, the balls and the brains.”

“Speaking from experience?”

Gwen tilted her head and studied Loomis. She didn’t seem to be acting the ass, just curious. “Some.” She sighed. “First thing I did was hook up with my friends from school. We wandered around going where we wanted, grabbing the bling-bling and doing stupid shit for a while. It was fun until winter set in.”

“You were at a lower elevation. It had to be warmer than here in winter.”

“Maybe.” Gwen shrugged. “But it ain’t like we planned ahead or anything. We ended up living out of a mall for a while.” She caught the other woman’s smirk and blushed, knowing her history played right into Loomis’s prejudices. “Not everyone did,” she reaffirmed, pleased to see a grin on Loomis’s face. “Anyway, we had hooked up with some kids from a military school.”

“Did they have the balls and the brains?”

Gwen chuckled. “Only the balls.” She enjoyed the warm laugh Loomis gave her.

They were quiet for a moment. “That guy who was in charge of your people. He didn’t look like military.”

“Weasel?” Gwen broke into a laugh, drawing the attention of the card players. “Weasel was never no cadet. He ran a gang out on State Street, the Gatos.”

Lucky and Cara returned their attention to their hands. Megan mumbled in her sleep and shifted a little, her mother pausing in her caresses until she settled once more. “So how’d you get from a mall to a street gang?”

Gwen’s humor soured as she remembered Beau chasing her with a pistol as she fled his violent abuse. “The cadet was a hater, a renegade. He wanted more than just a skill twist, you know?”

Loomis’s expression was mystified. “I didn’t understand any of that.”

“Which word?” Gwen rolled her eyes. Kevin was right; none of them knew English.

“Um, I’m guessing a hater is someone who hates others. Renegade means an outlaw, doesn’t it?”

“Kind of. It’s somebody who doesn’t care about anybody but themselves.”

Loomis frowned. “Then how come he led your group? If he didn’t care about anybody else, he shouldn’t be in charge.”

Gwen snorted. “Dawg, you people are so pure. Sometimes it amazes me you’re still breathing.”

Annoyance sparked in Loomis’s eyes. “So what’s a skill twist?”

“Sex. He wanted more than to just bang me. He beat me too.” As soon as she said it, she winced, wanting to take it back.

Loomis’s complexion turned milky and she swallowed like she was worried she would throw up. Her eyes darted around, as it to reaffirm that she was safe and well, that no danger hovered near to steal her or her family.

Gwen sat up, leaning toward her. “Shit, I’m sorry, Loomis. I’m always sticking my foot in my mouth.”

“It’s okay.” Loomis’s voice was thin. The color returned to her face, and the frantic gleam in her eye faded. “I told you on your first day that it runs in the family.”

Gwen stared a moment at the wan smile directed her way, remembering.

“Sorry. I’m pretty good at putting my foot in my mouth.”

“I noticed. Does it run in the family?”

“Well, you’re part of it now. You tell me.”

A burst of surprised laughter erupted from Gwen, slightly tinted with relief. “You’re right. You did.”

Loomis sighed and closed her eyes again. “So that’s when you got involved with the Gatos?”

“Yeah. About four years ago. They saved me from a pack of kids out for my blood. Weasel had the brains and the balls to survive. I’m lucky I hooked up with him. It could have been so much worse.” They fell to silence once more, each contemplating the reality of that statement and how it related to them. At the table, Cara called gin and put her cards down. Oscar whimpered, and Lucky left off grumbling about losing the hand to check his diaper. Delia hummed as she created her masterpiece. Footsteps stampeded toward them.

“Can we go in now?” Terry panted, out of breath, Kevin beside him.

Loomis opened her eyes and looked out over the homestead, gauging how much time had passed. “Yeah. It’s been long enough since you ate. But if you feel a cramp coming on, get out.” She had to call her last instruction as the boys pelted off.

Megan woke, whimpering a little as she sat up and examined her arm. “It hurts.”

Loomis sat up, as well, and pulled her daughter into her lap. “I know, baby, but not as bad as it did at first, right?”

The girl reluctantly agreed. She rubbed sleep from her eyes, content to remain where she was for the time being.

Gwen felt a rush of longing. In a world where there were no more ’rents, this simple act of love was so foreign, so pure. She’d had cause to regret many things in her short life, but an unfamiliar bitterness swept over her.
Why the hell didn’t I have the sense to leave the city?
What would it have been like to arrive here in Lindsay Crossing, to have belonged from the beginning?
Could I have saved Loomis from whatever Riddick did?
Uncomfortable with her thoughts, she shunted them aside.
Stupid shit, thinking like that. Just silly dreams.
“You never answered my question.” She forced herself to ignore the obvious love on display, a love she had forgotten existed. “How come Lindsay Crossing survived when others didn’t? What did you guys do around here that was different?”

Loomis frowned in thought. “I don’t know what we did differently since I don’t know why they failed. After the dust settled, our 4-H group got together. We elected new officers and tried to figure out what to do.” She absently caressed Megan’s hair and shoulder, and gave her a kiss. “We knew we’d have to band together to survive so everybody went out to find the other kids they knew. Had our first town meeting in the church.”

“That’s about what Weasel did. Had his crew find friends and relatives and neighbors, and brought them all together.”

“Smart move. Me and Rick only knew Delia’s family and our cousins in town since we were homeschooled, but by the end of the week we had about three hundred people in town with more trickling in every day.”

“Three hundred?” Gwen gaped. “That’s a lot!”

“Yeah. I never expected so many.”

“That’s because you never went to school,” Cara said from the table. “I think we had close to four hundred school-aged kids between kindergarten and seventh grade.”

By now Megan had spotted Delia playing with the clay. Her natural exuberance returning, she jumped up, causing Loomis to grunt. She turned and kissed her mother in apology, then went to her playmate’s side to help.

“What happened next?” Gwen asked, more to keep Loomis talking than anything else.

She shrugged. “We elected Dwayne Walker as mayor. He appointed a sheriff and deputies. Then we spent a few weeks teaching things to each other.”

Gwen rolled over onto her stomach and propped her head on her hands. “Teaching? Why’d you do that?”

“Because most of them were town kids. They didn’t know anything about animals or gardens or harvesting. It seemed the right thing to do. The Bible says teaching a man to fish will feed him for his whole life. Seemed stupid to watch people starve because they didn’t know how to farm.”

Loomis spoke with confidence, and Gwen suddenly knew whose notion it was to teach the townies how to survive. “That was your idea, wasn’t it?”

Loomis squirmed a little and wouldn’t look at her. “Somebody would have thought of it sooner or later.”

“Not necessarily. That’s what it was then. You had the balls and the brains to take charge.”

Loomis looked decidedly uncomfortable as she tried to stammer a response. Gwen didn’t press the issue. Instead she pushed herself up to her feet. “I’m going to get my book from the cabin. Anybody want anything?” It appeared everyone was fine and she walked away.

She found it interesting that Cara, who had overheard the entire discussion, didn’t argue Gwen’s conclusions. Loomis might not know her own strength of character, but those closest to her did. She wondered what had set Riddick off. He had probably hated the fact that a girl had more power than him—that was the kind of boy he had been. Did he receive punishment for what he’d done to Loomis? Was he thrown out of town or did he sneak away like a snake? She hoped it was the former. That cracker deserved to be beaten like a dog in the street for half the things he did in the city. Loomis would never have gone for a guy like that; the asshole had raped and beat her before he left, Gwen knew it.

Stepping into the cabin, she quickly located her book. She agreed with Loomis. Leaving Riddick to rot in his deathbed had been the right thing to do.

Gwen ushered another ewe down the ramp and out to pasture. Shutting the contraption’s gate, she went to the corral to sort through the remaining flock for another victim. On the other side of the barn, Rick sat on a stool and milked a sheep in his milker—an elevated platform that made getting dairy from the low-slung animals easier. As she selected another ewe, Gwen marveled that she could now tell the sheep apart. Those four were rams of various ages, and several of the ewes weren’t milk bearing at the moment. Some had already been sent through the barn to the pasture to thin the flock for easier spotting. She could tell which sheep were late lambs from last year, and which were the old-timers that would never give milk again. If somebody had told her last year that she would become so knowledgeable about Icelandic sheep, she’d have laughed her ass off.

She hustled the next ewe up the ramp and onto her platform, closing the gate behind it to keep it in place. Settled on her stool, she tugged the udders. Performing the mindless task, she pondered her favorite subject. Loomis’s nightmares still came hot and heavy despite no more mention of Riddick. Not a single night had passed that Gwen hadn’t awakened to thrashing and crying as her roommate fought for consciousness. Loomis never returned to bed afterward, preferring to grab her clothes and leave the bedroom rather than try to get more sleep. The circles under her eyes were getting deeper and darker as the days wore on. Gwen saw the growing concern from Heather, Cara and Rick. Even Lucky had noticed, which was saying something since Lucky was often clueless about things outside her immediate realm. Loomis’s appetite had disappeared along with her ability to sleep through the night. While she didn’t yet look like the Gatos upon their arrival in Lindsay Crossing, Gwen didn’t doubt that she eventually would. Cara had taken to making Loomis’s favorite meals and desserts in an attempt to entice her to eat. Seeing this, Gwen had begun trying to stuff Loomis’s face with food every chance she got. It was weird to be receiving grateful looks from Cara. Since her unilateral order to never mention Riddick’s name, she’d acted cool toward Gwen. It didn’t help that Gwen wasn’t much interested in the whole “pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen” thing. She much rather preferred to spend her time outdoors and in Loomis’s company to stirring pots over a hot wood stove or attempting to sew.

Rick seemed the most worried of all. He always responded to his sister’s nightmares, coming to the door to check on her every night. Gwen supposed if Riddick had used Rick to get to Loomis, he would feel guilty. That had to be why he constantly supported her just like Cara did. They knew what had happened even if Terry and the younger kids didn’t. Why didn’t Terry know who Riddick was? He had to have been about five or six when it had happened. Even Gwen remembered things from when she was that age. Annie Faber and that man who first greeted the Gatos knew him, indicating that his actions were common knowledge around town.

Sighing, she stood and opened the gate in front of the ewe, allowing it to clatter down the ramp and out to pasture. She went to the corral for the next one, glancing at the second barn where Loomis and the boys were cleaning it out and taking care of the horses. They were far enough away that she barely heard their voices as they talked with one another.

Gwen gave Rick a calculating look as he joined her to cull the next ewe from the flock. She followed him in, guiding her sheep into place and sitting on her stool. “Rick, can I ask a question?”

“Yeah, sure.”

She nibbled her lower lip. “He’s Megan’s father, ain’t he?” Complete silence met her question. She didn’t even hear the sound of milk hitting his pail.

“Yeah.” He resumed milking. “He was.”

Pleased to get a response at all, Gwen blew out a breath. “What happened?”

There was another long pause, though they both kept working. “It was a long time ago. No reason to be dragging it up now.”

Gwen felt a spike of frustration. “There’s lots of reason.” She turned away from her task to stare at his back. “It still messes with her head. If she don’t talk about it, she ain’t going to get over it.”

He continued his task. “She’s done fine the last couple of years. Once things settle down, it’ll go away just like it did before.”