Orphan Maker (22 page)

“Yes, ma’am!” Loomis gave Megan a kiss and set her on her feet. “Go on now, let us get dressed. We’ll be out in a jiffy.”

“Okay.” Megan stopped to give Gwen a hug and a kiss, too. “Morning, Gwen.”

Loomis grinned at the dumbfounded look on Gwen’s face as the girl left the tent, Loomis both pleased and vexed at her daughter’s acceptance. “Guess you’ve rated the Megan Loomis Seal of Approval.”

Gwen’s fingers touched her cheek where the child had kissed her. “I guess so. I wonder why?”

“Who knows? Sometimes she’s a right puzzle.”

Loomis climbed out of the sleeping bag, the cool morning air making her shiver. She found the clothes she wore last night and began dressing.

Following her lead, Gwen pulled on her trousers. “Sounds like her mother.”

Loomis buckled her belt, frowning. She’d never thought of herself as a puzzle before. The confusing one was Gwen.

Gwen sauntered toward the gymnasium with the rest of the Loomis clan as the sun reached its zenith. A light dusting of clouds marred the otherwise blue sky, some more gray than white. Loomis had mentioned a storm brewing the day before. Gwen watched her walking up ahead and felt a measure of admiration for the woman’s weather sense. Of course, there were other things to admire, and Gwen took her time hitting all the high spots as she looked Loomis over. Their first kiss had truly been butter, creamy and rich, and well worth the wait. It had been difficult for Gwen to hold back. She was glad she had, though. If she’d had any question as to whether or not Loomis had been raped in the past, this morning had given her the answer. Gwen knew Loomis wanted her, but the traumatic incident had left its scars. Getting past Loomis’s fears would take time.
I’ve got lots of time.

“What you looking at, girl?” Emerita, Franklin on her hip, had a smug expression on her face.

Gwen wiggled her eyebrows, not looking away from Loomis’s backside.

Emerita followed her gaze. “So that’s how it is?” She grinned. “I didn’t think these peeps went there.”

“Me neither. But at least one of them does.”

Laughing, Emerita bumped Gwen’s hip with her own. “Get them drawers,
chica
.”

Her laughter caught Loomis’s attention, and the redhead looked back. Gwen’s smile broadened as their eyes met. She chuckled as Loomis blushed, pleased to note the shy grin sent her way. When Loomis stumbled on a rock, Gwen smothered a chortle.

“She got it bad, girlfriend.”

Gwen glanced at Emerita. “You think so?”

“Oh, yeah. I saw how she looked at you yesterday when she talked to T.” Emerita adjusted Franklin in her grip. “She sweats you big time.”

Despite the fact Gwen suspected this, she couldn’t help the grin sliding across her face.

Inside the gym, folding chairs had been brought out and placed on the floor. One set of bleachers was still extended. Several dozen kids filled them, mostly adolescents. On the stage, a long table sat with chairs facing the audience. Loomis led her family toward the front of the room to take their places along a row of folding chairs. As Gwen neared Loomis she saw there was some argument from Terry about seating.

“I want to sit up there.” His eyes snapped as he pointed to the bleachers.

Several of the younger kids sat at the top. Gwen figured this was equivalent to sitting at the back of the school bus when she was their age. It was cool to be away from the ’rents and heckle from a distance.

“Tough. You’re sitting here until the break. Once that’s done you can sit where you like.”

Terry appeared to debate the wisdom of disobedience. Kevin, used to a more violent lifestyle, shrugged and sat down where indicated. In his world, you didn’t buck the system until you were big enough to kick somebody’s ass to get what you wanted. Terry glowered at him but, seeing no support, slumped in a heap in the next chair.

“Thank you,” Loomis said. “You’ll be free after the break, I promise.”

Her younger cousin gave a vague half shrug in response and glared at nothing. Not for the first time Gwen wondered how the hell Terry got to be the ass he was. The brat had no respect for his elders, least of all Loomis who was held in high esteem by everyone in Lindsay Crossing. Loomis waved her closer, interrupting her thoughts, and she pushed aside the negativity.

“We’ll sit here. Tommy, can you and your family sit right behind me?”

Tommy Boy searched Loomis’s words and tone for insult, but found none. He nodded and directed his girlfriend down the aisle behind the Loomis clan.

“What difference does it make where we sit?” Gwen asked.

“You’ll see.”

Loomis’s nonanswer almost annoyed Gwen. She wondered why it didn’t. It most certainly would have ticked her off two weeks ago. Loomis sat at an angle in her chair, her left arm across the back of Gwen’s as she watched others arrive and take their seats. Occasionally she looked at Gwen and gave her a reassuring smile before returning to her vigilance.

Soon the gym was abuzz with voices. Gwen took a look around and realized that almost everyone in town was here. No wonder they decided to have their meetings here during Festivals. There wasn’t anyplace else that could hold them all. Up on the stage, people came out from behind the drapes and the gathered townspeople quieted. Gwen wasn’t surprised to see Weasel among them. Walker sat at the center of the table with James Kipfer and a couple of others she’d seen hanging with him last night. She was pleased to note a woman too. This was probably their town council. She wondered why Loomis wasn’t up there. Didn’t they think her important enough to be a member?

Walker picked up a gavel, rapped it a few times on the table, the loud crack cutting through the most vocal conversations. “Let’s come to order, please. The sooner we get started, the sooner we can head home. Looks like there’s a storm headed our way and some of us need to get back to our homesteads.”

There was a murmur of agreement from the audience and the meeting began. Gwen’s eyes glazed over before they’d gotten far into reading the last meeting minutes. Who gave a shit about renovating the church or whether Joe Bob Hillbilly had the right to tear down that house standing on his property line? When the reports from different members of the community began, she understood why Terry wanted to sit in the bleachers with his friends. She wanted to sit up there, as well, at least to get away from the drone. Restless, she looked over her shoulder, seeing she wasn’t the only uninterested party. Some townies snoozed in their seats, others reading or fidgeting. What surprised her was the number of Gatos who watched the proceedings with undisguised fascination. She frowned at the rapt gazes and turned back to stare at the stage.

When Weasel had led meetings, it was usually a war party preparing to go out and take what they needed to survive. Rarely did he have planning sessions or go over what they would do over the coming season, or what happened between two soldiers who had disagreed over something. If things got bad enough for Weasel’s attention, he made a decision on the spot, and his men backed him up. Nobody fucked with the status quo or there’d be hell to pay. Nobody had a say other than to plead his case with Weasel. Lindsay Crossing did things differently. They had a council even though they had a mayor. No one made unilateral decisions. From what Gwen could gather, some judgments took a lot of time and effort to pass. Gwen remembered the voting that had happened to allow the Gatos to remain in town. Did they do that at every meeting? How did they get anything done?

“All right, we’re now open for new business.” Walker rapped the gavel. “The chair recognizes Rick Loomis.”

Surprised, Gwen looked to see Rick dropping his hand as he stood. He’d obviously been waiting for this moment.

Rick divided his attention between the audience and the stage. “The biggest thing I noticed yesterday was that we’ve got a lot of new folks in town. I think it’d be good to put some names to the faces. So, I’d like to start by introducing my family. Most of you know us, but our newcomers don’t have the luxury. For those who don’t know, the Loomis Homestead is about six miles southwest of town.” He went down the row of seats, starting with Loomis, insisting that everyone stand for people to see.

Gwen loathed the blush she felt on her face as nearly three hundred pairs of eyes stared at her. She was grateful to sink back into her seat. Beside her, Loomis grinned and wiggled her eyebrows at her. “This was your idea, wasn’t it?”

Rather than answer aloud, Loomis affected an innocent air, palm on her chest.

With an amused snort, Gwen returned her attention to Rick who had finished the introductions with Lucky and Oscar. He didn’t add Tommy Boy or Emerita who sat behind them. Gwen wondered why. Weren’t they family now, too?

Rick sat down, and there was a moment of foot shuffling before someone else stood up to take the next round. Considering the number of people present, it was going to take forever to work through all of them. Gwen sank down in her seat. Eventually the presentations were completed. Gwen blew a sigh of relief and tried to look interested in the proceedings again.

Walker looked around the room, banged his gavel. “The chair recognizes Malcolm Schneider.”

Gwen turned to see a man standing midway back. After the recent introductions, she recognized him. She’d seen him talking to Loomis the day before. Schneider’s ears were bright red, indicating his discomfort, though he spoke with a clear voice. “Like Rick Loomis said, we’ve got a lot of new folks with us. The reason we adopted them into the various homesteads is to help them learn how to survive out here. I was thinking that’ll only give them basic skills, not much more. These folks are in the same position a lot of us were after Orphan Maker; the desire to learn is there, but they’re ignorant about how to survive.”

Gwen heard a rumble of laughter, and a stab of anger as Schneider’s poor choice of words lanced through her. Lack of experience wasn’t ignorance. She resented the suggestion that the Gatos were stupid. They’d lived through shit storms that would have driven these yokels insane.

“Chair recognizes Marissa Loomis.”

Turning just in time to see Loomis stand, Gwen blinked in sudden understanding. Schneider was that bitch Annie Faber’s boyfriend. He spoke the words, but they came from Loomis. That’s what they’d been discussing yesterday. How long had Loomis been wheeling and dealing before the dance? What else had she set in motion?

“Just like three quarters of you were ignorant,” Loomis said. “Hell, I thought Twila Hansen would never figure out which end of a pitchfork to use. I bet James Kipfer still has a scar from his run-in with the Fisher’s goat. And am I the only one who remembers our honorable mayor’s first attempt at milking a cow?” The laughter was more blatant, less snide now that she’d reminded the townies of their own rudimentary beginnings. The council members who’d been picked on laughed just as much. Gwen felt better, wondering if Loomis had meant for a comparison to be made between the Gatos and the townies. The two groups had something in common now despite their vast differences of upbringing and methods of survival. Loomis resumed her seat, letting Schneider continue. Gwen gave her a slight nod of approval, smiling as Loomis’s skin reddened.

“That’s it exactly,” Schneider said. “To that end, I move that we begin classes again. I’m thinking either weekly or twice a month. We can go over the essential things like gardening, care of livestock, tool repair and the like. From there we can go into our specialties, maybe start up an apprenticeship program or something. I’m willing to start the ball rolling next week at our place.”

“Chair recognizes Annie Faber.”

Gwen tried not to scowl as the blonde stood.

“I think Malcolm has a wonderful idea. I’d be glad to offer classes in beekeeping and care of hogs. We’re planning on keeping a few more piglets this year; maybe they can be projects for some folks who are interested.”

“I can give lessons on fishing,” a man said, standing without being called.

Another stood. “Count us in. I’ve a fair hand at trapping, and Susan’s the best baker in town.”

Several others stood to offer their knowledge and abilities. Once the hubbub died down, Rick said, “We’ve already decided to keep a few more lambs. If anybody’s interested in starting another herd, we can teach what we know. Like Annie said, maybe they can be projects for someone who’s of a mind to get into sheep herding.”

“The motion’s on the floor.” Walker looked at the members of the council. “Anybody have any questions or suggestions?”

Gwen listened to the townsfolk hash out details until an equitable compromise was made. The suggested classes would be on a weekly basis, with every other week being here in this building. Alternating weeks would be all over the township, giving the Gatos a chance to familiarize themselves with the area and its people. The motion was brought up for a vote, and passed with a majority. There were those who weren’t interested in sharing their knowledge, and Walker asked for them to stand so it could be noted in the minutes.

“Why won’t they get involved?” Gwen whispered to Loomis as each one was named and told to sit back down.

“Well, the Harts aren’t about to share their distillery secrets for one thing. That’s about all they really have to offer, since they get most their goods from their customers. The Hansens are a rough crowd, a selfish bunch.” Gwen eyed the Hansens, remembering that they were the ones Tommy Boy had accused of trying to treat him and Emerita like slaves. “Anything they’d teach would be worthless anyway.” Loomis continued down the line, telling her about this family who liked to keep their traplines a secret, and that one who really didn’t have anything special that hadn’t already been offered, and the other one that lived in town and didn’t have a lot of experience beyond a simple garden and hunting for sustenance.

The gavel rapped. “Okay, motion passed and carried. Who’s next?”

Loomis raised her hand.

Walker smirked. “Now why am I not surprised? Chair recognizes Marissa Loomis.”

***