Gone to Ground (12 page)

With another brief nod, the captain turned away and strode quickly across the dining room, stopping momentarily to speak with her supervisor, then leaving the dining room by the main exit.

Blowing out a deep breath, and contemplating the meaning of the visit, and the implications of her intended trip to the central office, Christina returned to wiping down the table where they’d been sitting, pushing in the chairs as she went. Hopefully tomorrow she would get her chance to find the best way out of town, and a map to Hideaway.

Lying in bed that night her mind hashed out all the possible scenarios that could materialize at the Enforcers office. That evening she’d been told that Ty, one of the younger male caregivers, would be escorting her downtown tomorrow morning around ten. She just had to pray that she would have a chance to find and take the map she needed. It would be a risky move, but even if it didn’t work out, she could always go back again as long as she didn’t get caught. Now she had an in. All she would have to tell them was that she remembered something else that O’Reilly had said.

Eventually, mentally and physically exhausted, Christina fell into a deep sleep, filled with fanciful dreams of a green valley deep within a canyon filled with buffalo and Indians, where she rode a white unicorn and was accompanied by an enormous white owl, who spoke to her, telling her the secret to living in the valley.

In her sleep, Christina smiled.

“Blast it Mark, ge
t that calf out of this garden before she tramples all the plants!” Maggie used her makeshift hoe to prod at the wayward animal as she ventured down a row of carrots, pausing here and there to sample the green tops that had begun to poke out of the dark, rich soil.

“But, Mom, Jenny just wants to help, don’t you girl?” Mark said giggling. The calf stopped, hunched, and deposited a large pile of green poop squarely on top of a tomato plant in the neighboring row.

“Mark!”

“Mom, it’s just fertilizer, that’s what you said.” Mark moved toward the rapidly growing calf, intending to take her halter and lead her out of danger.

“Mark,” tone much more menacing.

“She’s just saving us the time of carrying it to the garden, you know.” Mark was laughing freely now.

“If you want to eat something more than veal...,” an evil look was thrown at Jenny at the word veal, “this winter, you’re going get that calf out of this garden and put her into the pasture where she can learn to be a real cow.”

“Okay, okay. Geez, come on Jenny before Mom starts carving you up for supper.” Mark glanced back at his mother as he led the calf from the garden, a wicked grin on his face. “Don’t hold it against her, girl. She hasn’t had any caffeine in two days and she’s going though the DTs.” 

15

“That’s it, buster,” Maggie said in mock anger, starting toward the pair as they picked up speed to avoid her. “I’ll show you the DTs. Where the heck did you hear that term anyway?”

Mark hauled on the calf’s halter, pulling her into a trot heading out of the garden. At the edge of the worked land, he stopped and turned to look at her, pulling the calf around with him. “It was in that movie, the one where the uncle was drunk all the time. What was it’s name? What are the “DTs” anyway?”

Maggie was saved from an answer by the sound of hooves on rock coming from the southern opening to the canyon. Turning, she shaded her eyes with her right hand against glare from the lowering western sun and made out O’Reilly leading his string of horses out of the gap on the two rut trail that ran beside the stream.

As he emerged from the canyon she was able to count a total of eight horses, the six he’d originally taken plus two that he’d apparently picked up at the ranch. Each horse was packed high, and O’Reilly even had another bundle in front of him on his own horse.

Maggie was surprised at the feeling of relief that washed through her at the sight of him. The past two days she had been plagued by a vague, unspecified disquiet. It haunted her nights, shivered down her back while she was doing the chores and tightened her neck muscles as she watched Mark doing his school work. Now, seeing O’Reilly riding into the barnyard, she recognized this feeling for what it was. She had missed O’Reilly’s presence. She hadn’t realized how greatly his being there added to her feeling of security; her feeling that she could handle this life that was so completely different from any that she’d ever imagined.

Her recognition of her dependence on him was a disquieting thought in its own right. Maggie had always thought of herself as independent, and since Mike’s death, she had strongly resisted any temptation to rely on someone else. Now, without her being aware of it, she had become dependent on a virtual stranger. She didn’t like that idea at all. No way. No how. Not one little bit.

Maggie joined Mark and the calf on the edge of the garden, watching as O’Reilly and his pack train moved closer. She was thrilled to see how many supplies he’d been able to collect from the ranch, and was especially excited to hear squawking from the last horse in line, indicating that the egg train was on its way.

In the middle of Maggie’s blissful contemplation of all the things she would be able to do with the eggs, the mysterious large bundle in front of O’Reilly erupted into an earth shattering scream that threw everything into chaos.

O’Reilly’s horse pinned its ears and tried to bolt forward. Foiled of that plan by the reins, and the rope attaching it to the pack train, the buckskin gelding bogged its head and began to buck. O’Reilly, hands full with reins and the squirming, screeching bundle in his arms, didn’t possess the third arm necessary to release the pack horses from his saddle horn.

Spooked by the caterwauling whirling dervish at their head, the pack horses decided to leave town the way they came; running backward, sideways and around in circles, hauling on their leads, eyes rolling in panic.

Their own eyes wide in amazement, Maggie, Mark and the calf stood, slack jawed, watching the equine fireworks and wondering who would win. Finally, after what seemed like ten minutes, but was more than likely less than one, the entire train wreck came to an uneasy stand still. O’Reilly’s horse stood, spraddle legged, nostrils wide and blowing, ears twitching back and forth nervously and eyes rolling white at the continuous noise.

The pack horses likewise came to a stop, pulled back to the far ends of their ropes, also blowing and trembling.

The screaming from the writhing bundle in O’Reilly’s lap gradually resolved into one word, repeated over and over.

“Mommy, Mommy, Mommmmmy!”

“Maggie!” yelled a frazzled O’Reilly, barely maintaining control over his horse. “Get over here and take this thing!”

Shocked into movement, Maggie began walking cautiously toward the horses, then began to move a bit faster as she saw O’Reilly fighting to hold both his mount and what appeared to be a small child. At about ten feet, she slowed again and approached more carefully until she was nearly within touching distance. Without warning the creature in O’Reilly’s arms launched itself at Maggie, eliciting a shout from O’Reilly that nearly put his horse over the edge again.

Maggie, taken completely off guard, put out her arms by reflex and found herself clutching a little girl of about two, who abruptly became quiet, snuggling into Maggie’s chest and popping her thumb into her mouth. Maggie took several steps backward, staring up at O’Reilly, open-mouthed in astonishment. Relieved of his noisy burden, O’Reilly slumped in the saddle, catching his breath, then slowly swung off his horse, patting him on his neck.

Mark came running up to his mother, followed closely by Jenny, the calf. Stopping in front of her, he stood on tiptoe to peer at the little girl in his mother’s arms, craning his head to look into her face and shooting questions back at O’Reilly.

“Who is she?”

Sighing, O’Reilly slowly led his horses over toward the hitching rail. “Her name is Lindy. I don’t know her last name.”

“Where did you get her? Where’s her family?”

Looking back over his shoulder in irritation, O’Reilly snapped, “I got her at the corner Circle K, now would you get over here and help me unload these horses.”

Looking crushed, Mark walked over to the pack horses and began untying them from each other and fastening their ropes to the hitching rail, side by side. The crushed look was of short duration, however, as he thought of another question. “Is she going to stay with us. I mean like forever, like a sister? I always sorta wanted a sister.”

Maggie, finally recovering from her shock at finding herself in possession of a small, warm lump of humanity, walked over to where Mark and O’Reilly were untying bundles from the pack saddles and piling them off to the side. “Mark, can the questions for now. It appears that O’Reilly has had about all he can take. We’ll get him to fill us in later, okay.”

“Yeah, sure, Mom. But where...”

“Mark, enough.”

“I was just going to ask where you wanted all this stuff.”

“Just start carrying it into the house, will you. We can sort it out there.”

“Okay, I...” Mark’s next question was drowned out by a raucous crow from a pack on the last animal in line, which caused all the horses to twitch and fidget. A pained look crossed O’Reilly’s features and he turned to face the boy.

“Before you take anything to the house,” he said through gritted teeth, “Would you please,” he emphasized the word please, “
please
find a place to put these damn chickens.”

Maggie buried her face in the little girl’s hair to hide her laugh.

Later that evening, when all the goods from the packs were stowed away in the pantry, or closets, or wherever else they might belong, O’Reilly, Maggie and Mark sat around the table, enjoying bottles of cola cooled in the nearby stream, and a bag of chips. Taking a sip, Maggie closed her eyes in enjoyment, savoring the bite of the acid, the tickle of the bubbles, and the unforgettable taste of the drink, following it with the rich grease and salt goodness of the chip.

O’Reilly, having just told them about his finding Lindy, though leaving out many of the more disturbing details in consideration of Mark’s young age, grinned at the expression of decadent bliss on Maggie’s face at the taste of the junk food. Lindy, exhausted from the day’s ride, was curled up on the sofa under the window, clutching her blanket and occasionally twitching in her sleep like a puppy.

“So,” Maggie said, opening her eyes and facing O’Reilly again. “You mean she hasn’t made a sound since you found her?”

“Not a peep, even when I doused her in the water trough. I’d begun to think she was deaf or mute or something.”

“Why do you think she started screaming when she saw you, Mom?” Mark asked, enjoying his own bottle and trying to make it last as long as possible, since heaven knew when he’d see soda again.

“I don’t know, bud, unless it’s because, in her mind, I’ve taken the place of her mother who died. I wonder how long she’d been shut in that room with the sick woman.” Maggie shuddered at the thought of what the little girl had gone through.

“There’s no knowing, really.” O’Reilly’s face became somber at the memory of the fetid room and the dying woman. “It had been a little while at least, although it couldn’t have been too long or she would have been in worse shape. But even several hours could seem like a lifetime to such a young child.” He looked over at the sleeping child, face softening.

Not for the first time Maggie wondered about O’Reilly’s past. He’d never volunteered much information, other than stories about when he was about Mark’s age and living in the camp. At one point he’d said that his family left the camp and moved to town so that his mother could work as a teacher when he was fifteen and his father died unexpectedly. Past that time, O’Reilly’s life was a void that Maggie had not yet been able to breach, but her journalistic instincts told her that something drastic had occurred to form the man that was before her today. The look on his face as he watched the small, strawberry blond girl sleeping resonated within her, making her wonder if somewhere in the past he’d lost a daughter or wife.

Several minutes of silence passed as O’Reilly watched Lindy, Maggie watched O’Reilly, and Mark happily munched his way though the family sized bag of chips that made it to Hideaway only moderately crushed. Finally, taking a deep breath, and hauling her attention away from the man sitting across from her, Maggie turned to Mark.

“Okay, kiddo, time to finish that drink and head off to bed. It’s getting late and we have plenty of work to do tomorrow.”

“Alright, Mom.” Mark upended his bottle, draining the last drops, and set it back on the table, looking at it longingly. Pushing his chair back, he rose to his feet and walked to the sink, where he washed his face and brushed his teeth, the house lacking a regular bathroom. Finished with his nightly preparations, Mark crossed to Maggie and gave her a hug.

“Night Mom, night O’Reilly.”

“Night kiddo,” Maggie returned his hug.

“Night Mark,” O’Reilly nodded at him.

Mark walked over to the couch and looked at the new member of his family. “Night little Lindy,” he whispered. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Then with a yawn wide enough to crack his face apart, he turned and headed for his room.

Silence reigned again once the door closed behind Mark, and Maggie and O’Reilly were left alone in the front room. A soft breeze entered through the front windows bringing with it the sounds of the night; the soft burbling of the distant stream, the quiet calls of the night birds, the peaceful song of the frogs and crickets.

Maggie and O’Reilly sat quietly at the table, each lost in thoughts all his or her own. Several minutes passed without a word while the flame of the oil lamp flickered in its chimney, casting a warm yellow haze over everything in the room. Lindy murmured in her sleep, her legs twitching, then she relaxed again and fell quiet. The silence was a tangible entity, soothing everything around it with a gentle hand.

Finally, O’Reilly drew a deep breath, and seemed to shake himself, as if coming out of a dream. He appeared to inwardly reach a difficult decision and looked up at Maggie, only to find her watching him closely.

“There are some things we need to talk about, I guess,” he said.

“Yeah, I would say there probably are.” Maggie nodded carefully. “Like what exactly is this situation we’re in? Obviously there’s something I’m not aware of. Ever since you arrived you’ve acted as though you’re being hunted.”

As he started to open his mouth, she held up her hand. “Oh, it’s not readily apparent. Mark hasn’t seen it. You’ve hidden it well, but it’s there, nonetheless. A watchfulness. A wariness. That business with the caves and creating a stronghold that would be difficult to penetrate. Those all indicate someone who is feeling less secure than he would like us to believe.” Maggie continued to study O’Reilly’s countenance as she talked, watching a myriad of expressions flicker across its surface, trying to attribute meaning to all of them, not always successfully.