Orphan Maker (17 page)

“You’re just like her. You don’t want to talk about it because he hurt you too.”

He turned to glare at her, and she felt a flush, her heart thumping at the angry tilt of his head. “Doesn’t matter. He’s dead and buried. He can’t hurt anybody anymore.”

Dead? Buried?
“Who are you talking about?”

He frowned at her sudden confusion. “Who are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about that cracker that told us about Lindsay Crossing.” Gwen refused to say his name. Just her luck, Cara would happen by. The last thing Gwen needed was to piss off the unspoken matron of the homestead. Loomis might have the power in the community, but Cara ruled the cabin.

Rick blinked at her, eyebrows relaxing. His expression twisted into disgust. “We’re not talking about the same person.” He turned back to his chores.

“Who’s Megan’s ’rent?”

He scoffed, keeping his back to her. “Marissa is, now get back to work.”

Gwen stared at him. She recognized the stiffness in his shoulders. He took after his sister and his body language told her he’d die before answering any more questions. With a huff she returned to milking her sheep, which blatted in complaint at her sudden rough touch. She forced herself to relax her grip and the animal subsided.

If Riddick hadn’t raped Loomis, then who had? It had to be somebody who’d been running with him. She knew that asshole was involved. Scowling at her ewe, she went over Rick’s statement. Megan’s daddy was dead and buried. Buried where? How did he die? Considering how the townies felt about Riddick, Gwen could bet they probably had a lynching party for the bastard.
God knows I want to kill him, whoever the hell he was.

***

Loomis rummaged in the back of the armoire, sorting through the miscellaneous items tossed onto the floor over the years. With a triumphant grunt, she unearthed the work boots she knew lurked in the shadows. She held them up to light from the window and gave them a critical examination. Time and disuse hadn’t cracked the leather. The boots had been her father’s and she’d saved them for Rick when he got big enough. The situation with the city kids, however, caused her to question the wisdom of holding them back. Someone would have need in town; best to get over the sentimentality. Put the extras to good use rather than be stingy now. She tied the laces together, hung the boots over one shoulder and closed the armoire doors.

At the dresser, Loomis caressed the stock on her hunting rifle, again wishing she had ammunition for it. With a resigned sigh, she scooped up her compound bow and arrows, slinging the quiver over her other shoulder. Maybe she could organize the town to make requisition forays into Cascade this summer. If the people there hadn’t survived, all those goods were going to waste. Lindsay Crossing had always been under the assumption that Cascade had pulled through as well, if not better, than they had. Since that wasn’t the case, it would behoove them to stock what they could before it all decayed beyond use.

“You ready?”

Loomis smiled at Gwen who lounged in the doorway. “Just about. Is everybody outside?”

Gwen nodded, grinning. “For shizzle. The horses are ready to go, the cart’s loaded and the kids are bouncing around inside.”

“In other words, I need to get my butt in gear before Cara puts it in a sling.”

Gwen laughed. “Something like that.”

Loomis’s smile widened at the sound. Over the last two weeks the difference in Gwen was phenomenal. Shelter and decent food, rest and clean clothes had worked wonders for the city kids, but Loomis found herself intrigued with Gwen’s changes more than any of the others. When Gwen had arrived, Loomis had thought her much like a winter apple—wizened, sour and bitter. Her expression was always pinched, not from hunger alone but from the knowledge that shit rolled downhill and she was at the bottom. Her green eyes had been as sharp as her tongue, always watching for weakness, always narrowed in suspicion. Proper nutrition and sleep had done wonders for Gwen’s physical and emotional well-being. She’d filled out some, her cheeks no longer as gaunt, and her brittle hair was slowly becoming luxuriant brown waves that brushed her shoulders. Her attitude was less acerbic. She’d begun asking questions before jumping to conclusions. Today she wore a pair of black wool pants and a sleeveless T-shirt that they had salvaged from the cabin in McAdam. Buckskin boots had replaced the hikers she had arrived in. She’d made them herself on Terry’s instruction, and they laced up her calves and over her trousers. Heather had found a green dress shirt from somewhere, and Gwen now wore it unbuttoned, the ends tied together at her belly. It showed off her petite figure and the color was a perfect match for her eyes.

Loomis realized she really liked Gwen’s smile. “You look good,” she said, surprising herself. It was true regardless of the flush she felt creeping up her neck.

Gwen’s eyes lit up, and she winked flirtatiously. “Thanks. You’re pretty off tap, too.”

Loomis’s blush deepened. She dropped her gaze. “I guess we’d better get out there.” She fingered the strap of her quiver.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Gwen left the room, and Loomis felt a measure of relief as she followed. Her embarrassment didn’t stop her from watching the intriguing rear view of her roommate’s departure. It had been a long time since Loomis had felt this way about anyone. The last time had been when she and Annie Faber were adolescents. Being fairly close neighbors with the Fabers and the only girl in her family, Loomis had naturally gravitated toward Annie as a friend. Despite Annie attending public school, she was also a member of the 4-H club with Loomis. Each summer of their childhood the girls had spent every waking moment with one another. Annie had been Loomis’s first kiss. Then Orphan Maker came, wiping out the adults. The following months had been spent making certain everyone would survive. Once things settled down—and here Loomis shied away from her memories—she was pregnant with Megan. By the time she had healed enough to actually see what was going on around her, Annie had hooked up with Malcolm Schneider from town. Loomis let out a breath and shook her head.
Past is past. Nothing to be done for it now.

Outside, the bright morning sun had begun to burn off the dew. It was still early, the family having had time for only a quick, cold breakfast. Today was Festival in Lindsay Crossing, and they needed to get an early start. The cart was half full of boxes, wooden chests, and sacks of items they planned on offering for trade. Enough wool and thel had been left in the barn for themselves and the Fabers, and the rest now made soft seating in the cart. Camping gear and food filled up the rest of the nooks and crannies. They would spend the night in town and return the next evening. Only Rick and Loomis had riding horses, so everyone else rode in the cart. Gwen climbed into it to join the others, and Loomis admired her easy grace.

“We ready to go?”

With a start, Loomis returned to the present and looked at her brother. “Yeah. I think we have everything.” She deposited their father’s boots in the cart.

“Loomis,” Megan drawled, holding out her arms. “I want to ride with you.”

Grinning, Loomis took her daughter, lifting her out of the cart. “Okay, baby. But that means Delia gets to ride with me on the way home.”

“You’re a sucker for puppy dog eyes.” Cara stood in the front of the wagon with the reins.

“Only for these puppy dog eyes.” Loomis turned so Cara could get a good look at Megan’s face. Then she set Megan on Tempest and mounted behind her. “Let’s go. Time’s a-wasting.”

Cara grumbled something about who had been the one holding them up, and Gwen laughed. Loomis ignored them as best she could, but felt a thrill of pleasure at Gwen’s humor.

This was the first time Gwen had been to Lindsay Crossing since the Loomis clan had adopted her. Two weeks ago, exhausted and demoralized after days on the road, she had been focused more on the intriguing Marissa Loomis than her surroundings. Now she observed the nearing town in a different light. Despite the population Loomis claimed had arrived over the first days following the plague, several of the outlying houses stood abandoned—windows and doors boarded up, weeds overtaking the yards, weathered wood fading from lack of attention. Other houses obviously remained inhabited and cared for, seemingly by random happenstance. In these places gardens bloomed, laundry hung out on the line, and doors and windows were open to the spring morning. “How come that house doesn’t have anybody in it?” Gwen pointed to a solid-appearing cabin with a large front yard facing the street.

Cara glanced at the property. “I’m not sure. I think it was one of the newer buildings in town when the plague hit. Some of those places weren’t built with the idea that there’d be no running water or electricity.”

Lucky frowned. “I thought this place gets heavy blizzards in winter. Wouldn’t they want to be prepared for that?”

“Oh, no.” Heather bounced a fattening Oscar on her knee. “I lived in McAdam before. This area was becoming a popular tourist attraction back then. Lots of campers and backpackers would come into town. A lot of these places were built as summer residences.”

Cara nodded. “There’s even a resort lodge up on the western ridge. They’d almost finished building it when everybody got sick.”

Curiosity appeased, Gwen returned to watching the passing scenery. On the right was the abandoned grocery store, its gas pumps nothing but rusted hulks squatting at one end of the empty parking lot. Here the weed-encrusted highway bisected their road, looking no different than it had two weeks ago. Off to the right it ran out of town and into the canyon, to the left it led into Lindsay Crossing. She barely remembered walking this way upon her initial arrival. Her attention had been focused on the armed men herding the Gatos toward the church. They continued forward, bypassing the “downtown” area. More residences passed on the left with a field opening on the right. The grass had been kept cut down, and Gwen saw a number of people, animals and wagons there. Cara steered the cart onto a large driveway, and the noise of many people gathered together filled the air.

Loomis had been in the lead but pulled back to ride alongside the cart. “This used to be the junior high school. It’s the biggest building in town so we use it for Festivals and stuff.”

Gwen frowned. “Then why’d they bring us to the church when we showed up?” The school was four stories tall. Three sets of double doors stood open at one end, revealing a gymnasium as they rolled past. “There would have been more room here.”

“Probably. But all our emergency meetings are held in the church; that’s where the bell is to call everyone. Not everybody can show up to those. This is where we house our library, business offices and the like.” She pointed to the field where several encampments had been erected. “We have our monthly Festival here because there’s room to spread out. During the winter, those that make it into town can shack up inside the building. There’ll be a dance tonight, too.”

“Loomis!” A teenager with a clipboard waved at them. His blond hair was long enough to hang in his eyes, and a wispy mustache grew above his lips. “Hey, Cara,” he said as the cart came to a stop beside him.

The tough, no-nonsense woman of the Loomis clan blushed and shyly smiled back at him. Gwen blinked.
Holy shit! She sweats him!
Intrigued, she gave the boy a closer examination.

“Hey, James. You running the show today?”

He turned his coquettish attentions from Cara to grin at Loomis. “Yeah, I got the short end of the stick this month.”

Loomis turned to her family. “This is Gwen Grant, Kevin Loomis, Lucky Hernandez and her son, Oscar. Folks, this is James Kipfer, the mayor’s right-hand man.”

Kevin looked startled at being introduced as a Loomis. He was young enough that his last name had been lost to him when his older brother had died. Gwen reached over and patted his arm in congratulations.

Kipfer greeted them, making extra effort to shake everyone’s hands. Gwen saw it as a ruse so he could hold Cara’s. Heather exchanged knowing glances with Gwen, and she smothered a smile. “You don’t have any problems with the Baxters, do you?” he asked Loomis when he finally released Cara.

“Nope. Why?”

Kipfer grimaced. “The usual. Got a bunch of people in town, and some don’t care for others. I’ve got to be careful who camps near who, or we’ll end up with fights all over the place.” He looked at his clipboard and lifted the only piece of paper it held. Gwen noted it was some sort of diagram in a sheet protector. Beneath it the clipboard had been painted black, and he used it as a slate. “The Baxters don’t get along with their neighbors, and I was hoping you could defuse the situation.”

“Sure, park us there. We’ll talk sheep all day, keep ’em distracted.”

“Great!” Kipfer used a piece of chalk to write on the slate. “Then you guys will be camping over here, just past the southern goal posts.”

Loomis peered over his shoulder at his diagram before nodding. “You got it.”

Kipfer hedged a moment. “You’re going to the dance, right?” Though he asked Loomis, his eyes slid over to Cara who pinked.

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Rick grinned at his cousin. “What about you?”

Cara fidgeted with the reins, seemingly unable to find her voice.

“I think Cara agrees.” Heather laughed.

“Okay. Good. I’ll…I’ll see you there.” Kipfer smiled ear to ear. “All of you,” he stressed, suddenly looking at the rest of them.

Loomis chuckled. “We’ll be there.” To Cara she said, “You think you can steer this thing for the goalposts?”

Cara gave Loomis an evil look and started the horses moving. Kipfer waved as they left, but was immediately distracted by another arrival.

“James and Cara, sitting in a tree,” Terry sang.

“Shut up!”

“K–i–s–s–i–n–g,” Delia and Megan completed loudly.

Gwen tried not to laugh over the vivid reddening of Cara’s skin.

***

The Baxters turned out to be identical triplets—Gary, Greg, and Gerry. Relieved that they had taken some pains to appear different from one another, Gwen ran their names and characteristics through her head like a mantra. Gary sported a full beard, Greg had long hair, and Gerry preferred shaving his head. The rest of their clan consisted of Gary’s and Greg’s girlfriends, their two sons, a sister sharing Gwen’s name and two Gatos. Pleased to see familiar ethnic faces, Gwen warmly greeted her former family members with hugs and kisses. Rogelio had trimmed his hair to its former military flattop, and decent food had helped fill out his husky build. Cain, a Vietnamese, didn’t look much different from the last time she’d seen him. He was still sallow and thin, though he had shaved off his Fu Manchu beard and mustache.