Gone to Ground (25 page)

Rickards stopped and studied Deputy Harlan, taking in the light brown hair, the sharp, almost hawk like features that made up his long face, the strange light brown, almost golden eyes. Here might be just what he had been asking for. Someone familiar with the empty lands who could possibly out think O’Reilly, because Rickards was positive that O’Reilly must be involved with this somewhere.

“Harlan,” Rickards said, “How would you feel about taking a trip out to Wikieup?”

29

The daily showdown was underway and it was proving to be of epic proportions. Neither side would give an inch and the tension between the two adversaries was reaching the point of no return. Neither party moved
. Narrow-eyed green glare met hostile yellow stare. The hot, humid breeze that lifted then died went ignored by both antagonists, so intent was their focus on each other. It seemed that the entire barnyard stood still, waiting for the next move in this battle of titans.

Maggie had the advantage in height and reach, as well apparently possessing the greater degree of intelligence. Her opponent, the advantage in speed and agility. Both knew how this conflict had ended on days past, but that didn’t affect either’s determination to be the victor on this occasion. Minutes passed as each sized the other up, waiting for him or her to lose focus just for a second.

Maggie shifted her weight subtly, moving her broom handle from left hand to right. Her stare narrowed even more as she studied the rooster in front of her, looking for an opening that would allow her to move past him, unassaulted, and gain admittance to the hen house. Houdini’s focus was unwavering. If she could just manage to...

“Mom? Mom, where are you?” The call came from the house, distracting Maggie for just a second. A second was all it took, however. Houdini saw his opening and came flying at Maggie’s legs, spurs outstretched, beating his wings against her shins and emitting strident shrieks the entire time.

“Dammit you animated Sunday dinner, get the hell away from me!”
Maggie jumped back, tripped and flailed wildly with her broomstick catching the rooster along his left side and sending him flying five feet away in a cloud of dust. Before Maggie could regain her balance and make a run for the hen house, however, Houdini recovered and once more entered the fray.

This contest ended the same way it had for most of the past week, with Maggie finally admitting defeat and retreating from Houdini’s territory while the rooster strutted belligerently back and forth across the front of his yard, stopping here and there to scratch aggressively at the dirt. All the while he maintained a cold yellow-eyed stare on the woman against whom he’d declared war.

“Mom? Where are... Oh.” Mark came around the corner of the barn, Lindy, Gypsy and Jack tailing along behind. “Do you want me to get the eggs? Houdini doesn’t mind me going into the hen house.”

Maggie shot Mark the narrow-eyed green glare that had so lately failed to impress Houdini. It had an equally unimpressive effect on her progeny since Mark started to laugh. It was true, though. Sometime during the past week Houdini had decided that Maggie was public enemy number one, while Mark could wander through the chicken yard without molestation. Even Lindy was able to toddle into the hen house and take eggs out from under the residents, while Houdini followed her about with a slavish devotion.

“Fine, you get the eggs.” Maggie thrust out the bucket she’d been carrying over her right arm. “But if that rooster doesn’t get his act together real quick, we’re going to be meeting over the stew pot.”

Houdini let out a cackle and ruffled his feathers, obviously disputing her statement.

Maggie headed across the open ground toward the house with the intention of getting something to drink and contemplating the joys of a chicken dinner. Just as she was walking up the slope toward the front door she heard the dogs begin to bark and a jolt of adrenaline shot through her body.

It had been over a week since O’Reilly left, and even though she tried to deny it to herself, she was becoming more and more worried at his delayed return. She kept telling herself that he’d said he might be gone up to a week and a half, depending on what he found, and she knew the weather would have made traveling much more difficult, but that was her head speaking. Her heart insisted on saying he was gone too long.

Turning back from the house, she headed toward the entrance to the canyon, following in the dogs’ wake, trying to determine whether she could hear the hollow sound of hoofs on rock or the creak of the saddle leather.

Just as she’d decided that the dogs had sounded a false alarm, she heard the echo of voices. She stopped suddenly, and turned to look for Mark and Lindy. If it were O’Reilly coming down the canyon, he should be alone. She shouldn’t be hearing voices.

Mark was coming around the side of the barn, carrying the egg bucket, eager to see where the commotion was coming from. Maggie quickly started toward him, motioning him to turn around, to get out of sight. Apparently her signals were slightly less than clear, since Mark continued to stand there, a confused expression on his face. Then his look focused on something behind Maggie’s left shoulder, and he raised his right arm and began waving, excited.

“O’Reilly, you’re back!”

Maggie whipped back around in time to see O’Reilly heading out from behind the last boulder, leading his pack horses. He looked up in the direction of Mark’s call, then back toward Maggie, their eyes meeting. A grin spread across his face. Probably at the look of shock on hers, she thought sourly. Her heart was still racing, and she wasn’t inclined to be charitable when considering his intentions.

Moving closer, O’Reilly lifted his left hand in greeting. “Honey, I’m home,” he called out, a laugh in his voice. “And I’ve brought guests for dinner,” he added, glancing back over his shoulder. Following the direction of his eyes she was just in time to see a group of strange horses round the boulder, and on them, four children; two girls and two boys.

Maggie felt as if she’d been nailed to the ground and her mind had turned to sludge. In spite of the evidence before her eyes, it took a moment for her to understand what it was she was seeing. Four more children. She craned her neck to see if anyone else was going to emerge from behind the boulder. For a brief moment she wondered if O’Reilly was some sort of pied piper who collected children every time he ventured out, and whether the entire town of Wikieup was going to be following behind him, listening to his tune.

Riding up beside her, O’Reilly stopped his horse and looked down at her shocked face, the grin on his features relaxing into a softer smile.

“I found them in Wikieup. There was no way I could leave them behind or send them back to the APZ, so here we all are.” He looked back at the children where they’d stopped their horses, watching Maggie. His grin reemerged “Can we keep them,
pleeease?”

There was a brown haired girl about fourteen or fifteen, another girl of about the same age, but appearing to be either Indian or Mexican, and two boys around Mark’s age. All four sat quietly on their horses, as if waiting for an indication that it was okay for them to come closer.

Maggie looked up at O’Reilly, eyes narrowing. She was getting good at that expression, she thought.

“I am so
never
letting you do the shopping again,” she murmured to him, then turning to the children lifted her right arm, beckoning them forward. “Come on in. You must be exhausted. Let’s get your horses unsaddled and get you something to drink.”

An hour later all the horses had been unpacked, unsaddled and turned into the pasture. The bundles still sat piled in the barnyard, and would need to be moved before the afternoon’s rainstorm washed them into the next county. For now, however, the sky was blue and the group of eight sat in the shade outside the house, enjoying tepid sodas from the provisions that O’Reilly brought back from Wikieup.

Watching Christina talking animatedly with Mark, telling him about their adventures at the APZ, and the struggle to get to Wikieup, Maggie was amazed with the ingenuity of the children as well as the stupidity of the authorities who felt that they could control people’s lives in this manner.

She remembered back to that night a month ago when O’Reilly bared his past, at least as far as the APZ was concerned. She recalled the emotion with which he’d spoken of Christina, his obvious connection with her, and his refusal to bring her into what he considered to be an unacceptable danger.

After meeting Christina, Maggie wondered at O’Reilly’s belief that Christina would simply learn to “play the game” adapt and get by in the APZ. After twenty minutes of talking with the girl Maggie could have told him that this young woman would do no such thing. Christina Craigson might break, but she wouldn’t be one to bend easily, especially if she felt that bending would require her to do something she felt was wrong.

Maggie had a more difficult time reading Alysa Thalman. She was very quiet and reserved, watching everything, but seldom voicing an opinion. When Maggie was first introduced to her, she had the impression that Alysa was a bit slow; a follower who needed to be told what to do. Quickly, however, she became aware of the level of respect the other three children afforded Alysa and realized that the girl’s silence and meek manner secreted a quick mind and the ability to plan and make decisions. The two girls together would be a powerful team.

Maggie smiled to herself. O’Reilly was seriously going to have to get over underestimating the females in his life if Christina and Alysa were anything to go by.

The two boys reminded her of Mark at that age. They had obviously seen some terrible things, which affected them deeply. However, they seemed to view everything that was happening now as a great adventure. When Mark described to them the cave hideout, Nick and Ryan were immediately ready to set out to see this new treat. Occasionally Maggie would catch the two of them in some private communion that no one else was privilege to, but she chalked that up to being twins. They obviously made each other stronger.

“Well, guys,” Maggie said, pushing herself to her feet. “We need to get the provisions inside and unpacked, and then we need to figure out sleeping arrangements. Mark, you, Ryan and Nick are going to move into the empty bunks in O’Reilly’s room.”

At O’Reilly’s startled look Maggie held up a hand, telling him to wait. “Alysa and Christina, you’re going to take the middle room, and Lindy and I will continue in my room.”

“Why can’t Nick and Ryan share my room, instead of all of us moving to O’Reilly’s room?” Mark asked.

“Yeah, why?” echoed O’Reilly.

“Easy. O’Reilly’s room is where all the extra bunk beds are. There’s only one bed in my room, so there’s no room for the girls. Lindy has her makeshift bed, which will last her a little longer.” O’Reilly opened his mouth to start to argue, but again Maggie held up her hand. “Mark’s room has a double bunk and O’Reilly’s room has two double bunks. That’s four beds in O’Reilly’s room and four males to fill them.”

“Okay, but I get top bunk!” called out Mark. “Hey, O’Reilly, looks like you and I are going to be roomies. You don’t mind me taking the top bunk do you? Nick and Ryan can take the other bed.”

O’Reilly looked like he very much would like to object to the plan, but one look at Maggie changed his mind.

“Don’t worry, O’Reilly,” said Maggie looking down at him laughingly. “It’s only a temporary situation.”

“And why is that, may I ask?” O’Reilly said with a slightly sarcastic note in his voice.

“Because tomorrow you and this crew of tough men here are going to start building an addition to the house. There’s plenty of room under the rock overhang, and a fair amount of extra lumber in the barn, so it should be a piece of cake, right?”

“Can’t argue with the lady,” O’Reilly said to no one in particular, pushing himself to his feet. “Come on troops, we’d better get the packs inside and stored before the boss gets her tail in a twist.” O’Reilly headed back toward the barn with the children in tow. Maggie stood watching him, a slight smile playing around her lips and eyes.

That night, after all the children had gone to bed, Maggie and O’Reilly sat out on the flat area immediately in front of the house that Maggie always referred to as the patio to O’Reilly’s amusement. Rainstorms earlier that afternoon had cooled the air, leaving it fresh and clean smelling.

The newly expanded group had spent most of the afternoon unpacking and rearranging rooms. The children had come with pitifully few possessions, and Maggie was concerned that, with the rate Mark and Lindy were growing, in addition to four new children, they would soon be stretched hard to keep them all clothed. A seamstress she was not. The one time she’d tried to make Mark an outfit when he was a baby, she wound up with a creation replete with no neck hole and three arm holes. If they relied on her for their sartorial needs, things could get ugly fast.

Fortunately Christina was about her size, and Alysa a bit smaller, so some of the things that O’Reilly had picked up for Maggie would also fit the girls, at least for awhile. Meanwhile, Nick and Ryan could wear some of Mark’s hand-me-downs. The prospect of a couture calamity was not yet imminent.

The breeze lifted, picking up tendrils of Maggie’s hair. A stray lock, led by the wind, tickled O’Reilly’s cheek as he sat next to her. Lifting his right hand he took the long strand, and turning, tucked it behind her ear.

Maggie momentarily stiffened at his touch, then relaxed again at its gentleness.

The silence grew longer and Maggie’s eyes started to droop with weariness. Then O’Reilly’s husky, gravely voice broke the spell.

“Are you angry about the children?”

“Angry? No, not angry. I’m worried a bit. How are we ever going to keep eight of us fed and clothed? I’m scared, I guess, but not angry. You couldn’t have done anything else.”