Orphan Maker (30 page)

They mirrored each other until Gwen couldn’t tell which was which. The skin beneath her fingers and palms was her own, but it was Loomis’s too. She watched her lover’s skin flush with arousal, her lips becoming swollen from the kisses they shared, watched as her lover’s hands touched herself in ways no one else yet could. Loomis’s eyes became hooded, looking so strong and sexy that Gwen was hard put not to throw the rules out the window and pounce. It was with an iron will that she held back, allowing Loomis the space to experience intimacy without threat of pain or degradation.

Breathing heavily, she stroked her breasts, throat, arms and inner thighs with abandon, pleased that Loomis repeated her movements. Her swollen clitoris throbbed with pique, feeling woefully neglected. A slight tickle along the apex of her thighs let Gwen know how wet she was, that she was more than ready for release. She also knew that her next move might scare Loomis away. Panting, she whispered a warning into Loomis’s ear, wanting to forestall a fearful response. “I’m going to touch myself now like I want you to touch me. You don’t have to copy this. Stay with me. Please, stay with me.” She drew her fingers through the moisture gathered between her legs, a sharp pang causing her hips to hitch. She lightly stroked herself, teasing her labia as she imagined Loomis’s strong hands playing with her.

Loomis’s forehead leaned heavily in the crook of Gwen’s neck. “Gwen, please,” she half-whispered, voice hoarse. “Let me.”

Gwen’s eyes opened in surprise, dispelling the fantasy of Loomis fingering her. “What?” she croaked, pulling back to stare.

“Let me,” Loomis repeated. She surged forward, forcing Gwen to lie back on the bed. Her hand stroked Gwen from shoulder to hip, brashly pausing to squeeze Gwen’s breast. She took Gwen’s hand, entwining their fingers and drawing them both to Gwen’s pubis. “Show me what to do.”

Her sudden forcefulness stunned Gwen for a moment. In that brief pause, Loomis bent to gently kiss her belly. Those lips and hands, so close to where Gwen needed and wanted them, were her undoing. Emboldened, Gwen squeezed Loomis’s hand in hers and brought their joined fingers to play in her wet curls.

***

Loomis lay awake long after Gwen had succumbed to sleep, Gwen’s head cradled on her shoulder. It was warm under the quilt. She shifted, enjoying the sensual feel of their naked skin brushing against each other, wondering why she’d never slept naked before. Gwen murmured in slumber and cuddled closer. Loomis briefly tightened her hold, leaning her cheek against Gwen’s hair. It was her own fault, of course. Gwen didn’t have a shred of modesty; it was Loomis’s fear that restrained her from this kind of physical connection, fear of a traumatic time in her life that was long past, a boy long dead.

An odd determination swept through her. Thoughts of Riddick usually brought a sweeping sense of shame to her, feelings of being spoiled and unclean. Those emotions were still there, but somehow they’d receded, lost their intensity. She remembered the feel of Gwen beneath her fingers, the sounds of her passion as Loomis brought her to orgasm. The beauty of the woman in her arms had overshadowed the corrupting memories of her past.

Gwen shifted again, hugging her. Loomis smiled. She resolved to sleep without a nightshirt all the time.

It had been difficult to touch herself in a sexual way at first. Since that terrible night, she had never allowed herself to think of those things. That was for other people, not her. Once past the initial embarrassment and vulnerability of being naked, however, she’d become excited. She found it hard to watch Gwen’s hands roam across that pale skin, stroking her nipples into swollen peaks that begged for attention. When she’d mirrored Gwen’s actions, she’d lost track of who touched whom. Her breasts had ached so much that she’d easily done what she hadn’t yet been able to allow Gwen to do. In her mind, it had been Gwen caressing her, exciting her.

Loomis sighed, a slight smile on her face. She called to mind the silky sensation of Gwen against her fingertips. The heat and wetness had startled Loomis at first, but she’d forgotten her surprise as Gwen began to respond to her firm strokes. She’d watched in awe as her lover undulated beneath her touch, instinctively matching her fingers’ movements with the bucking of Gwen’s hips. At some point, Gwen had released her, grasping at the bed for purchase as she yielded to Loomis’s touch. That hadn’t lasted long. Soon Gwen had captured Loomis’s hand again, guiding her as she reached the pinnacle before her orgasm.

Gwen’s face at the moment of release was the most beautiful thing Loomis had ever seen.

She nuzzled Gwen, bestowing a kiss on her forehead.

“You ready?” Tommy Boy sat astride Starkey, looking comfortable in the saddle after a near month of riding lessons.

Loomis looked up from Tempest’s bridle. “Yeah.”

Tommy Boy nodded. Franklin was in his lap, and he lifted the child down to Emerita. After a quick kiss between them, Emerita returned to the dooryard of the cabin where the others waited. This was their first official expedition into Cascade. Loomis had hitched Tempest up to the family cart, something he wasn’t too pleased with but suffered with an occasional flick of his tail and a grumble as she passed. A new-made cart was hitched behind the homestead’s plow horse. The cart had once been an old pickup truck that they had converted for Tommy Boy’s family. It had taken a week to remove the cab and fit the bed with a wagon tongue, a week of pushing their meager battery bank to its limit with the rarely used power tools. A hand pump had been used to air the tires. Two-by-fours had been attached to the frame to give it added structure and a base for plywood siding to be added later and increase load capacity. Terry and Kevin sat inside with their camping gear, and Cara perched on the makeshift box seat.

Loomis followed Emerita to the cabin door where Rick and Heather stood arm in arm. Lucky held Oscar beside them, a hand shading her eyes in the morning light. Megan and Delia fidgeted nearby. Megan had been in a snit since Loomis had told her she couldn’t join them.

Rick grimaced. “I can still go.”

Loomis shook her head at her brother. “Next trip. We’ll be fine. You keep the home fires burning.”

He didn’t argue, but was no more pleased at being left behind than Megan. He understood the wisdom of it. This trip would take several days, and there was too much work to be done on the homestead to leave it empty for an extended period. “Be safe.”

“I will.” She gave him a hug and kissed Heather on the cheek.

“Loomis.”

“No.” Loomis squatted down before her daughter. “You’re too little to be roaming around. I need to know you’re safe.” Megan’s lower lip stuck out, and Loomis lightly tapped it. “Watch it, missy. A bird’s going to fly over and drop a turd on it.”

Despite her frustration, Megan broke into a smile at the old joke. She gave Loomis a kiss, as did Delia.

“Let’s get a move on! Daylight’s wasting!”

Standing, Loomis turned to wave at Gwen inside her homestead’s wagon. “Patience, woman.” Gwen snorted, and Loomis laughed. She gave Emerita and Lucky a quick hug, chucking Franklin’s chin as she went to the wagon and climbed inside.

Purposely shoving Gwen aside with her hip, she took the reins. “Let’s get a move on.” She ignored the pinch Gwen gave her, not giving her the satisfaction as she clucked at Tempest and led the way off the property. It didn’t matter, Gwen still giggled.

It had taken the township two full days to clear the mountain road. Today they would meet several homesteads at the general store for the first excursion into Cascade. Scouts had been sent ahead to confirm the road was clear all the way to their destination and that the town was deserted. The last scout had returned to Lindsay Crossing four nights ago. Barring any mechanical difficulties, injuries or another landslide occurring to block their path, the convoy would make their destination in roughly six hours. The plan was to spend at least three days there, cataloguing and loading before the return trip.

Gwen laughed and pointed. Loomis literally caught the tail end of a deer dashing into undergrowth on the side of the road. She smiled at Gwen’s delight. Things had gotten so much better between them. Loomis still had nightmares, but they’d lessened in intensity and frequency, sometimes allowing her three nights in a row without one. When one did occur, Gwen was there to wake her before it became too fierce, to hold her as she cried, and talk if she wanted. Past the initial demand for knowledge, Gwen no longer insisted Loomis speak at all. She had become a gentle but strong presence, allowing Loomis a sounding board and a shoulder without judgment.

They played variations on the game, “No Hands,” nearly every night too. The anxiety attacks still overcame Loomis, but she was able to enjoy Gwen’s touch for longer periods of time. Neither of them thought she’d move past the panic any time soon. For now it was enough to know that the possibility existed.

Loomis still had other doubts, and they popped up at the most inopportune times. Doubts had made Loomis self-conscious at the last logistics meeting in town. How much of Gwen’s feelings for her were still rooted in power-hunger? Had she really moved past it, or was it a sham to ease Loomis’s mind? Under the keen eye of Weasel it seemed impossible for Gwen to feel anything for her; she was broken, flawed, not even strong enough to take an official role on the town council. Once home, however, Gwen’s proximity drowned out Weasel’s knowing gaze. Gwen put too much work into easing Loomis’s emotional hurts for her to be a gold digger. Didn’t she?

As the general store parking lot came into view, Loomis raised her eyebrows. “Looks like the whole town came out.”

Gwen shaded her eyes to look at the multitude of horses, oxen, wagons and people milling about. “Are they all going?”

“Nope, not unless Dwayne made some changes since our last meeting. We can only muster so many wagons and the animals to pull them. It’ll take us three times as long to get there with people on foot.” Loomis guided the cart into the lot, pulling up at the corner near the edge of the crossroad, leaving room for Cara to park behind her. With nothing to hitch Tempest to, she handed the reins to Gwen. “Stay here, okay?”

“Sure.”

Loomis climbed out of the wagon, spotting Walker and his people up at the store entrance. Tommy Boy dismounted and joined her as they made their way through the press of people. It looked like everybody in the entire town was here to see off the expedition. To be expected, she guessed. This was a pretty big deal in Lindsay Crossing’s history. No one had been south of the pass since Orphan Maker had ravaged the community. People moved aside as she neared, most greeting her and some nodding politely to Tommy Boy as they passed. She stepped over the curb and onto the concrete slab of the storefront, taking her hat off. Susan Ashton stood nearby with a clipboard. “Loomis household is here.”

“And the Garcia homestead,” Tommy Boy stated with some pride. His family had chosen Emerita’s last name to represent their stake. It turned out that Tommy Boy’s last name was Anderson, and there was already a large population of Andersons in the valley.

“Oh, good.” Susan ticked something off her board. “We’re only waiting for the Fabers then.”

“When we passed their place, they were just getting ready to go,” Tommy Boy volunteered.

“Are all these people going, too?” Loomis asked.

Before Susan could respond, Walker broke into the conversation. “Naw. Most are just here to see everybody off.” He gave Tommy Boy a calculating look then turned to whisper something to James Kipfer. Kipfer nodded, and walked away.

Loomis saw Tommy Boy frown in suspicion, knowing she held a matching expression. While they hadn’t become fast friends during his stay at her homestead, they at least had come to an understanding. He was a prickly man who enjoyed his solitude, and it had become taxing upon occasion for him to live cheek by jowl with a dozen others. Considering how he and his family had been treated while living with the Hansens, she knew he had good cause for being mistrustful. She needed to smooth his ruffled feathers before his brash, independent nature reared its head. “What’s up?” She jerked her chin in Kipfer’s direction.

“Figured your boy would want his weapons back.” Walker, oblivious to Tommy Boy’s bristle at his phrasing, smiled. “You’re a contributing member to this community; you need to have something on hand for defense.” He blinked at the glare he received from the former Gato, unaware of his racist error.

Praying Tommy Boy would keep his temper, Loomis placed her hand on his rock-hard bicep. “Thanks. That’ll ease our mind. Won’t it, Tommy?”

Tommy Boy ground his teeth, but visibly controlled himself. “It will, yeah.”

Loomis breathed a sigh of relief. It looked like she’d need to take Walker aside sometime this week, teach him how the Gatos saw things. Actually, she was surprised he hadn’t been spoken to already. Weasel and Kipfer approached, each holding the ugly assault weapons the Gatos had arrived with in Lindsay Crossing. It was her turn to stiffen as Weasel arrived at Walker’s side. She watched as he handed over a submachine gun to Tommy Boy. Kipfer held out a semiautomatic pistol. She watched Tommy Boy expertly check both weapons and clips, tucking the pistol into the back of his pants.
Good Lord, I hope the safety’s on.

“Any extra ammo?” Tommy Boy smiled as he opened a small bag Kipfer gave him. “Diesel.” He scooped out six magazines of two sizes, pocketing them.

“You arming everybody?”

Walker shook his head. “No, only those coming with us; maybe half of the soldiers.”

Soldiers.
Loomis felt her lip curl at the term.
There
was a word to stomp out of existence. These newcomers needed to be integrated fully into their community. Calling them “soldiers” was a misnomer, since their commander in chief wasn’t the mayor. Besides, soldiers needed a war, right? She caught Weasel staring at her, his smile unpleasant, and she ignored him.

Someone shouted out by the road, and Loomis turned to see the Faber wagon coming into view. Walker clapped his hands together. “Excellent! Susan, let’s get everybody lined up and out of here.”