Mountain Man (Book 2): Homeland, page 2
part #2 of Mountain Man Series
Tom could tell Bob and Skyler weren't happy about that, and he wasn't either; he missed Kristy and Molly something fierce and wanted to be with them, especially when he'd spent every day since Grand Junction fretting for their safety. But unless they wanted to ride hard for half the night when they were already exhausted, it was out of the question. Especially since starting at the crack of dawn would get them home soon enough anyway.
Besides, it might take a while to deliver the news about Grand Junction. “Come on,” he told the others. “Let's find the Sheriff.”
After a bit of searching, they found Sheriff Mitchells at Neal's bar, seated around a table playing Texas Hold'em with a handful of Emery's other notables, including Brady Everett, owner of the town's biggest trading post, and Neal himself.
There were quite a few other people around still eating dinner, and the bar's usual night crowd was either yet to arrive or were more or less behaving themselves. At their usual table in the corner, Rich Bradshaw and his cronies hadn't even started drinking yet.
Behind the bar, Reina leaned forward to give Tom a better view down her low cut dress and winked; she'd been coming after him a lot more aggressively since he came back from guiding Simon's convoy, all groomed and proper and most importantly with wealth in his pocket.
She'd even offered discounts, as if he would've considered it even before he found Kristy. He ignored her as usual, but at his side, Skyler shifted in embarrassment and tried not to be too obvious about gawking.
Tom felt a stab of chagrin; he could've done without his adopted son being exposed to the less than wholesome atmosphere of this place. Probably should've thought twice about bringing the kid into a seedy bar, where the serving women rented other services in equally seedy rooms upstairs, and unabashedly dressed to advertise their availability.
If Kristy heard about it she'd roast him alive, but too late to make Skyler wait outside now. In any case, the parental guidance would have to wait til later.
Tom ignored the greetings of a few acquaintances at the bar and made straight for Mitchells. “Got a good hand, Sheriff?” he asked tersely.
The man, still dressed in his cracked leather duster even indoors, his beat up old hat resting on the table beside him, shot him an irritated look. “Not one I was planning to fold, Trapper.”
Glancing back at Bob and Skyler, Tom shrugged and settled back on his heels, tucking his thumbs behind his belt. “Guess we'll wait for you to finish up then. After that, I imagine you'll want to get folks in town together to let them know Grand Junction got taken.”
The room, which had already been quiet as curious patrons listened in, abruptly became so silent he could've heard a pin drop. Behind the bar, Reina lost her flirtatious smirk and slowly straightened.
Mitchells cursed and tossed his cards down, pushing out of his chair. “I remember how much I had in the pot,” he snapped at the others. “Best you remember too when this is all sorted out.” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed Tom's arm and herded him toward the door. “Start talking, Trapper. What's it looking like?”
“Now hold on, Sheriff!” Bradshaw called irritably, standing from his table. He loomed over the other men in the room, demanding respect for his size if nothing else. “This news affects us all, we've got a right to hear it.”
Mitchells looked annoyed; he'd probably wanted to hear it first so he could figure out a way to present it so it wouldn't cause a panic. Something Tom probably should've thought about before he announced it in front of a bar full of people.
Oops.
Either way, too late now. The crowd was on Bradshaw's side, calling their agreement and protests, and the sheriff couldn't seem to think of a solid reason to refuse them. So with a sigh he headed back to his chair and slumped down, poking disconsolately at his cards; in his haste, he'd thrown them down face up. “All right, let's hear it.”
So Tom described what he'd seen of the looted and occupied city, the hundreds of soldiers with vehicles and heavy weapons, the new fortifications, the slave camp where Grand Junction's former residents languished, and the patrols they'd had to dodge for the next few days until about the point they reached Colorado's border with Utah.
“Long story short, with the city out of the way Sangue will be heading our way,” Tom concluded. “I'd recommend evacuating to the safety of the mountains. As for me and mine, we'll be heading even deeper in at the first sign of bandits sniffing around in the area.”
A crowd had formed around them as he spoke, and at that, a low rumble spread through it. Although not one of agreement, as far as he could tell.
“You're seriously suggesting we should abandon our homes, Trapper?” a voice near the back demanded. “We should put up a fight!”
Tom snorted. “Simon Randall wanted to fight, too. Grand Junction tried, and they had something like fifty times our numbers.”
The observation led to an uncomfortable silence; although none of the rescued Newpost prisoners were currently in the bar, everyone in Emery knew about Simon's disastrous convoy to Texas. “Well not fight them toe to toe,” the same man argued peevishly. “More like hit and run stuff. Guerrilla tactics.”
“Which would only be possible if you leave your homes so you can be mobile,” Tom shot back. “You seriously want to be sitting around here twiddling your thumbs when they drive right down Highway 10 to your doorstep?”
The man shifted sullenly, as did most of the crowd. “Well no, of course not. But they're hundreds of miles away, and we're just a small community that hasn't been fighting them like Grand Junction has. They might roll in, push us around a little and take a few things, but who's to say they'd do more than that?”
“Because they're not here to occupy, or at least not benevolently,” Bob snapped. “They're from a former BRICKS nation and they've got a serious grudge against the US for the Ultimatum. We obliterated their country with nukes, they want blood for that. They're not going to be overlooking anyone.”
“Which is why they name their bandit squads “Blood”, coincidentally enough,” Tom said sarcastically. “They didn't name themselves that because they're interested in taking our stuff.” He couldn't believe the people of Emery were actually balking at this. “You've got dozens of people living here who've been their prisoners, you know what they'll do!”
“We're too small,” a citizen argued. “Too out of the way. They've got bigger fish to fry than us.”
“So you'll just wait until they do happen to get around to attacking Emery?” Skyler demanded. “You might as well walk into one of their slave camps now.”
Mitchells held up his hands as the crowd rumbled angrily. “Now hold on, Trapper. It's not like we're a bunch of morons . . . we know the danger. But at the same time, the moment we abandon Emery, our houses, our livelihoods, is the moment we become refugees. Most of us have already been there at some point since the Ultimatum, or even before that during the shortages. We'd prefer to save that for a last resort.”
“The time for waiting may be over,” Tom warned.
“Maybe so,” the sheriff said, clearly not in agreement.
For the next hour or so the crowd pumped them for more details, and made “plans” for what they'd do when Sangue came their way. Most of it was idle boasting and vindictive threats about what they'd like to do to the monstrous invaders from the south. Not terribly useful.
Tom stuck around to try to offer advice, since if they weren't going to leave they should at least take some precautions. Most important among those was keeping scouts along Highway 10, the only real road into Emery, which went through southwest to northeast following the mountains. Ideally, they'd want to watch all approaches, and have smoke signals or better yet mirrors to swiftly relay warnings in case Sangue bandits were headed their way.
Once the dinner crowd started drifting away and the evening crowd started drinking more heavily, Tom decided it was time to go. He announced they were headed to bed and ushered Bob and Skyler out the door, closing it firmly behind them.
At which point he paused and caught his adopted son's shoulder, turning him around. “I think it goes without saying I don't want you back in that place again, at least until you're old enough to go your own way.”
The teenager gave him the sort of affronted glare young adults excelled at. “Seriously?”
“Dead serious. It's not exactly a savory place . . . I try to avoid going in there myself.”
Bob chuckled. “You know he's right, kiddo. Your mom would skin us all if she found out you set foot in Neal's.” He paused, voice becoming teasing. “I don't suppose Lisa would be too thrilled about it, either.”
Skyler's face flushed with embarrassment. “Not like you ever let me come into town anyway,” he muttered, yanking free of Tom's hand and stalking off towards the Knudsens' farm.
Bob ambled after him, still looking amused. “Remember being such a little snot when we were that age?”
Honestly, Tom didn't think Skyler was all that bad, especially given everything life had thrown at him that he'd had to adjust to. “I dunno, I mostly just played video games.”
His friend sighed. “Yeah, weren't those great.” Clapping him on the shoulder, he quickened his step to catch up to Skyler.
* * * * *
The Knudsens were good hosts, providing them a comfortable spot in their living room to bed down. It wasn't exactly luxury, but after a month camping out it certainly felt that way, and a hot meal was much appreciated.
Tom kept to his word about heading out at the crack of dawn, getting them all up while it was still dark and packing up their bedding. With a few final whispered goodbyes to Teddy, and an invitation for his family to join them up in the mountains if things started looking bad with Sangue, they loaded up their horses and set out.
It was a half day's walk up to the mountain valley, where Tom's family lived in his winter lodge on a steep slope beneath a cliff, overlooking the ranch on the flat near the stream below, where the Hendricksons lived in the cabin he'd helped them build. The valley was mostly his family's main residence now, while his summer retreat in the high mountains had fallen into a bit of neglect; it hadn't been practical to head up there while Kristy was pregnant with Molly, or with Molly as a young baby, and now with a new baby on the way it was equally impractical.
Besides, these days Tom spent most of his time and energy ranching, managing the families' herds of horses, cows, and goats, rather than hunting and trapping like he used to. Although he still took the time to teach Skyler everything he knew, and Kristy and the Hendricksons as much as they were interested in learning.
On horseback, they were able to shave a few hours off the trip, although they had to stick to the more circuitous route around the nearest peak to Emery, rather than going up and over. That was a difficult but not impossible path, and much more direct.
The winding route also had the advantage of taking them through the lower meadow, where they usually grazed their animals. And as Tom had hoped, he spotted the herds there now, vigilantly watched over by three familiar faces: their friend and sometime ranch hand Brandon Gerry, the oldest of the group in his early twenties, his seventeen year old brother-in-law Logan Williamson, who worked as a full time ranch hand, and of course Bob's thirteen year old daughter Lisa.
And, not to be left out, Logan's blue heeler, Chase. The young man had trained the dog himself to help with the herds, and talked all the time about breeding him. Something that both Skyler and Lisa were eagerly waiting for so they could get their own puppies to help out.
When the three spotted them Brandon simply waved, while Logan and Chase stuck to their duties. Lisa, on the other hand, practically bounced in the saddle waving with both arms. She had light brown hair and more of her father's coloring, although her dark eyes, petite frame, and delicate features were purely her mother's.
Skyler immediately brightened at the sight of his friend, riding over and beginning to dismount from his gelding Surly's back to say hello. He was followed closely by Bob, who looked equally happy to see his daughter.
Lisa wasted no time throwing herself off the back of her mare, Nibbly, and running to meet them. Skyler looked surprised but pleased when she threw her arms around him with one foot still in the stirrup. He awkwardly hugged her back, both of them talking a mile a minute.
Bob looked slightly irked that his daughter hadn't rushed to him first, but he seemed mostly resigned about it, even a little amused. That was about Tom's reaction to the sight as well.
Skyler and Lisa had been close friends for most of their lives. For the last few years, since returning from the disastrous trip to Newpost and settling into their new homes in the mountains, the girl had followed Skyler around like a lost puppy.
It was probably inevitable that Kristy and Vicky would begin buzzing about their children getting married when they were old enough, and even Bob seemed to accept it as a foregone conclusion. Even the kids themselves didn't seem to mind the idea, although they nearly died from embarrassment whenever they overheard their moms talking about it, which brought entreaties for them to quit trying to run their lives.
Tom wasn't sure it was such a done deal; the two were cute together, and they certainly were best friends and fiercely protective of each other. But at the same time, they were just kids.
It may have been a long time since he'd been young himself, but he knew how much things changed in the tumultuous years between early teen and adult. Skyler and Lisa had been forced to grow up quickly through hard times, and were mature about most things, but they still viewed the prospect of marriage with the innocence of children playing house.
That perspective may not last to adulthood, especially not tested in the raging turbulence of adolescent hormones. It was obvious the two cared deeply about each other, just not so certain whether that was going to turn into the sort of love lifelong commitments were made of. They still acted more like close friends in spite of all the marriage talk, and as far as Tom knew didn't do much besides occasionally hold hands.
Although even that was enough to send Kristy and Vicky into hysterics, half melting at how cute their kids were together with their awkward shyness, and half terrified that they were getting old enough they might make some serious mistake and get into trouble.
Tom knew Kristy had sat Skyler down on several occasions for various renditions of The Talk, and had no doubt Vicky had done the same with Lisa.
He was happy to leave that to them; his relationship with Skyler was strong in some ways, but when it came to parenting was incredibly uncertain in others. If it was ever needed, he'd be happy to intervene however Kirsty needed him to. But he hoped that Skyler and Lisa were both smart enough and wise enough that it wouldn't be necessary.
In any case, he still thought everyone was jumping the gun about all this. The two kids would likely always be close, he certainly hoped so for both their sakes, but as they got older their feelings might change. Especially as they had opportunities to meet other people their own age and had a chance to decide for themselves. And if anything, their parents trying to push them into marriage might have the opposite result.
Either way, there was no rush; they had half a decade or so to figure out how they felt about each other, and a lot of growing up to do before then.
As Lisa finally turned away from Skyler to hug her dad and kiss his cheek, Tom rode out to meet Brandon, who looked almost as happy to see them as Lisa as he met him halfway. “You're back sooner than I expected!” his friend called.
Tom nodded, waving to Logan as the ranch hand continued minding the herd on his own. “I'm sure you'll be glad to get home to Fiona and the baby. Thanks for watching the animals while we were gone.”
The young man snorted. “Happy to help, especially with how well you pay. Too well, some folks might think, although I'm certainly not complaining.”
They leaned out of their saddles to exchange handshakes and spent a few minutes chatting, sharing the news of the last month. Brandon was alarmed to hear about Grand Junction's fall, although on his end he provided the relieving news that Tom's and Bob's families were all doing just fine. Which was a huge weight off Tom's shoulders; he'd had his reservations about being gone so long given Kristy's condition, but there hadn't been much help for it.
As for the herd, the young man was happy to report the animals were all doing just fine as well. “As you can plainly see,” he added, motioning to the contentedly grazing horses, cows, and goats.
“So I do,” Tom agreed. “Couldn't have left them in better hands while we were gone.”
Brandon was one of Tom's closest friends among the residents of Emery. Like Kristy, Skyler, and the Hendricksons, as well as Fiona Williamson, the woman Brandon would eventually marry, and her brother Logan, he'd been part of Simon's convoy four years ago. When Tom had returned to Emery from Grand Junction, along with twenty or so of the other freed prisoners, Brandon had come with him.
The young man had always shown a fierce gratitude to Tom for saving him and the others from Newpost, and he'd helped him and Bob ride around northern Utah gathering up animals to start their ranch, then signed on as a hand for the first few years.
He'd probably still be in Tom's employ to this day, but last spring to the whole town's celebration he'd finally married Fiona, and the newlyweds had settled down in town to raise a family. Meanwhile, his new brother-in-law Logan, who'd been helping during the summer months where needed up to that point, took his place as a full-time ranch hand with an eye to one day starting his own ranch.
Tom knew Brandon and Fiona had been close ever since the convoy, and there'd been few doubts they'd eventually get hitched. The delay had come from the fact that the poor young woman had taken a long time to recover, mentally and emotionally, from the unspeakable things she'd suffered while in Newpost, same as most of the other women from the convoy.
Probably worse than most, given her youth and beauty; back in Newpost Tom had been forced to watch helplessly from a distance as Fiona was dragged into a guard house by a couple Sangue drivers, then a half hour later staggered out bruised and barely able to walk from their abuses. And by that time she'd been suffering those sorts of horrors for weeks.
