Orphan Maker (23 page)

“More a point of interest than a motion.” Loomis stood. “There are some folks Rick didn’t introduce earlier. I’d like to rectify that.” She turned to the small family seated behind her. “Stand up, Tommy, let them have a look at you.”

As usual, Tommy Boy’s face held a scowl, but he did as he was told, his girlfriend standing with him.

“This here’s Tommy and Emerita, and their son, Franklin.” Loomis dropped the “Boy” from Tommy’s name. There was no way he was a boy, and in this neck of the woods it would be an insult. “Things weren’t working out for them in their original place, so I’m taking them on for a few weeks to teach them the ropes. Then our family’s going to get them set up in their own homestead.”

The crowd erupted into a buzz of chatter at that, just as she’d thought it would. It’d been years since a homestead had broken in two, and very gossip-worthy. The action also opened up a whole new can of worms—that the city kids weren’t just charity cases, that they’d become upstanding members of the community in the future with their own rights. It was something that had to be done if Lindsay Crossing was going to counter idiots like the Hansens. Slavery was not an option here, and Loomis would do whatever it took to bring that point home.

“Order.” Walker rapped his gavel and leaned forward on his elbows. “How’s that a point of interest, Loomis?”

She gestured for the small family to resume their seats and faced the mayor. “Well, Dwayne, I think we need a bit of a reminder of what it was like in the early days.” Turning back to the audience, she continued. “In the beginning, we all holed up together here in town. Friendships were made and classes were taught. We learned a lot about each other in those stressful times and had big ideas of how we wanted to live. Then we all went our separate ways in groups—friends becoming family since we had none left.” Her words were met with a somber air, the memories of those stark origins causing many a distant expression. “That first year or so, everything was like water flowing back and forth as folks experimented, tried to find out where they fit in the scheme of things. Remember?” Several people nodded or murmured a response. They recollected the fluidity of those initial months. Pleased to see she’d gotten them to recall such a difficult time, Loomis went on. “The same thing’s going to happen with our new people. There’s going to be a lot of fluctuation over the coming season. Some aren’t going to do well with the people they’re staying with, and need to move on. I want everyone to remember what it was like, especially those of us who drifted from homestead to homestead before finding a permanent home.”

She nodded at Tommy and his family. “Not everybody likes to live in homesteads like some of us do, and the same will be true for the Gatos. I want us all to keep our minds and hearts open as things start to shift. These folks deserve to find homes of their own if they’re so inclined, establish homesteads for themselves and the people they consider family. We need to support them in that, just like we supported ourselves through the same thing.” Loomis looked back at the stage. “That’s all I have to say on that matter, Dwayne.”

She sat back down, pleased with the silence behind her. She’d struck a chord with them. Hopefully that’d forestall any sniping and arguing as the Gatos became more comfortable with caring for themselves and moved into their own places.

Dwayne cleared his throat. “Thank you, Loomis. I think it’s time for a break now. We’ll come back here in about an hour’s time.” He thumped his gavel.

Terry and Kevin were on their feet and running before the echoes died, and Loomis shook her head with a rueful grin. “I’m surprised Terry didn’t put up more of a fight.”

“That might have been Kevin not wanting to back him up.” Gwen patted Loomis’s thigh. She left her hand there. “Do you want to go back to the campsite for something to eat?”

Loomis enjoyed the touch. Now was not the time, however, as she saw people beginning to make their way toward the front of the room and her. She took Gwen’s hand and gave it a squeeze before standing. “I’m not going to get that far,” she predicted as the first person reached her.

Most of the break was spent with Loomis listening to suggestions about classes, conversations on establishing an apprenticeship program, and questions about her predictions that the newcomers would be upsetting the status quo even more. A healthy dose of ethnic complexions were sprinkled among the townsfolk, and Loomis made sure to address them as often as she did the people she knew. They were all members of Lindsay Crossing now, regardless of their circumstances, and deserved as much respect as anybody. At some point, Gwen showed up with a cup of pine tea and a sandwich. Loomis grinned thanks, never pausing in her conversation with a Gato who was of a like mind with Tommy Boy. To be honest, nothing constructive was accomplished, but it gave people a chance to discuss what had been said. It also opened up a door for the Gatos to begin making their opinions known to their new neighbors. That alone was worth its weight in salt.

The council returned to the stage, and the gavel hammered wood to bring everyone to order. It took a few minutes for the various knots of people to break up and drift back to their seats. Loomis looked around, noting that Kevin and Terry weren’t even in the gym. They and their friends had much more interesting things to do outside. She didn’t begrudge them their free time. Soon they’d be back at home where chores would take precedence over fun and games.

“All right, everybody!” Walker called. “Let’s get settled now. We’re still on new business. Who’s next?”

Loomis turned to give Gary Baxter a significant look. As he stood up, Gwen tapped her thigh. Loomis caught a knowing expression on her pretty face. Gwen was way too observant for Loomis’s own good. She placed her hand over Gwen’s.

“Chair recognizes Gary Baxter.”

Loomis gave her camp neighbor her full attention, urging Gwen to do the same. It was kind of funny. Loomis hated to be the center of attention. The only way to get things done when it came to town meetings, though, was to stand up and take charge. She’d discovered that if she talked someone else’s ear off beforehand, she could convince them the idea she wanted to bring up was their own. Then she didn’t have to worry about people thinking she was trying to run roughshod over everybody. She was glad she’d turned down the city council position back in the beginning. No way would she have the patience to run this place, no matter how much manipulation she worked behind the scenes. It dawned on her that this was exactly what Gwen had meant about her being a power base in the community. Despite appearing as if she had nothing to do with the way the town ran, the reality was that she’d had her finger in almost every project that Lindsay Crossing had taken on since Orphan Maker ravaged the world. With some difficulty, Loomis forced her mind away from the revelation. She’d have time to think about things when the meeting was over.

“This kind of goes with our new members and homesteading. I don’t think we have enough supplies for the extra mouths, even with a couple of decent growing seasons. We’ve been really fortunate to have a surplus of goods we’ve created ourselves, but there’s some question about stuff we can’t make. Tools, shotgun shells, raw materials. There’s a higher limit on all that now that we’ve got forty-three more bodies to hunt for and clothe. And what about the number of new homesteads that’ll pop up over the coming months and years, and the farm tools they’ll need?”

“There’s still the one house, one year rule,” someone called.

“That there is,” Baxter agreed. “We’ve spent the last six years thinking of McAdam as our trust fund. There’s lots of places still untouched over there, but how many of them actually have everything needed to survive with no electricity or running water?” He was met with silence. “Yup. That’s the problem. If Tommy over there were to go into any house in town, there’s no guarantee he’ll find what he needs to get through winter. All the goods have been incorporated into our homes here.”

“You ain’t suggesting we cough up tools we need to survive, are you?” a man asked. “Because I’ll tell you now, I ain’t going to do it. My family comes first.” There was a rumble of agreement from many others though mostly from those who had the same status as Baxter, namely the heads of the different homesteads.

“I’m not suggesting that.” Baxter raised his hands in a placating motion. “Last thing we need is to get into knock-down, drag-outs over goods. We’ve got a high enough hill to climb on our basic differences alone.”

“Then what are you suggesting, Gary?” Walker asked from the stage.

“I move we go to Cascade and do a systematic looting of the town there to include the individual houses.”

There was another rustle as people shifted and whispered among themselves.

“That’d take months!” Al Hansen stood. “And what are they going to do? Just let us walk in and take their stuff? Or are you saying we should go in guns blazing like gangbangers, steal it from them?”

Loomis saw several Gatos bristle at the inference that they were thieves by virtue of their lifestyle. She heard Tommy growl, and glanced over to see Emerita gripping his arm to keep him from jumping up and issuing challenge. Word must have gotten around about the Hansens already. Loomis wondered how long before there’d be another murder in the valley.

“Shut up and sit down, Al,” Walker said.

“No! I got a right to ask questions here.”

Something had to be done before a brawl developed. Without raising her hand, Loomis rose to her feet. “He does.” She almost winced at the glares she received from half the room. “Doesn’t matter that he doesn’t have a lick of common sense or compassion—Al Hansen lives here and has as much right to flap his gums as anybody.” A few people chuckled, and Hansen turned red, swelling in anger. Loomis sighed. She’d been on the edge of being enemies with him and his family for years. No reason to hold her punches now. “In answer to your rude question, Al, I’ve been told that Cascade is pretty much a ghost town. If there are any survivors, they’re few and far between.”

“Says who? Them?” Hansen demanded, pointing at Tommy. “You believe them? Jesus, Loomis, you’re more gullible than I gave you credit for.”

Tommy surged to his feet, fists balled, his girlfriend beside him. Emerita physically held him in place, arms gripping his shoulders, speaking a rapid stream of Spanish to stop him from doing something foolish.

Loomis felt a twisting in her gut. She had to get her people behind her, regardless of the consequences to the Hansens or herself. The only weapon she had to call on in this situation was her past, one she heartily wished she could forget every single moment of her life. But it held weight with these people, and it seemed the only way to keep this from developing into bloodshed.

“Why would they lie, Al?” she asked. “It’s no secret that Travis Riddick’s the reason they’re here.” That dashed a load of cold water on the hot tempers. Her mouth tasted of ashes, but a part of her was pleased that their attention focused on her and away from Hansen’s slur. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gwen reach for her, but Loomis pulled slightly away, pleased that her friend took the hint and dropped her hand. “Yeah, I’ve been gullible in the past, but I think I’ve learned a thing or two since then, haven’t you?” She knew it for the veiled threat it was. So did he. Hansen flushed and then paled, letting the unknown circumstances of a five-year-old murder prey on his mind. His eyes flickered to Rick and shied away. Everyone in the room held their breath, waiting to see what would happen, Loomis included. Would Hansen push the issue, set himself up for a fight? It didn’t matter that they were adults now, and he outweighed her by a hundred pounds. The memory was still vivid in its clarity of Loomis publicly beating the toughest bully in town in fair combat when they were children.

Uncertain, yet unable to fully back down, Hansen finally spat on the ground at his feet. “I don’t have to be a party to this. Twila, let’s go.”

Loomis silently blew out a breath as he and his family filed out of their seats, glaring at anybody who dared to look askance at them. The air remained tense until the gymnasium doors closed behind them.

“Good riddance,” somebody muttered, eliciting a flurry of chuckles and fidgeting.

“Back to your proposal, Gary,” Walker said.

Inhaling deeply, Loomis sank back into her seat while Baxter continued. Only when Gwen took her hand again did Loomis realize how badly it shook. She was glad she sat in the front row. She didn’t have to see the pity from her friends and neighbors.

“Miguel and Damon told me they didn’t see anybody in Cascade. That means everybody hightailed it away, or there are so few they could easily hide. I think Weasel up there will back me up.”

The Hispanic man on the council stiffened under the sudden attention. His eyes flickered from Loomis to Baxter. “Yeah, that’s right, dawg. Wasn’t nobody there. We stayed the night in a furniture store. Didn’t see anybody the whole time.”

Beside him, Walker gave Loomis a puzzled look, pointedly glancing at her lap where Gwen’s hand remained within her own, then at Weasel. Rather than release Gwen, Loomis held on tighter. Walker wanted Weasel to be a power on the council. She didn’t like his conclusions, but his reasoning was sound. The best way to do that was to throw her weight behind Weasel as best she could, regardless of how she felt about him. That didn’t mean she’d let Walker, Weasel or anybody else tell her what to do or who to befriend.

“Cascade was half again as big as McAdam,” Baxter said. “It’s on the other side of the pass, which means it would’ve been easier for them to go to the city than come further north to our town, especially with winter coming on not long after the plague cleared. I think it’s worth a look-see.”

While the townsfolk discussed Baxter’s proposal, Loomis focused on herself. She felt jittery and hollow, though Gwen’s touch had gone a long way in grounding her. She stared down at their linked hands. Doubt nibbled at the back of her mind. Weasel’s words, Gwen’s actions and Loomis’s sudden understanding of her potential strength in the community overshadowed the disgust and sickness brought up by any talk of Riddick. Was this real?