Orphan Maker Page 10

  Terry trotted around and put the bed frame into the empty wheelbarrow. “Gwen, can I use the mattress you’ve got? The other one’s buried.”

  Surprised he had asked, Gwen stared a moment before answering. “Go ahead.”

  Loomis closed the cart as Terry pulled the mattress down, depositing it in the wheelbarrow, too. “Thanks, Annie. Here’s hoping it’ll take a charge.”

  Gwen grimaced as they shook hands and climbed back into the cart. She watched out of the corner of her eye, noting that Annie seemed reluctant to let go. When Loomis had said she’d never had any boyfriends, did that mean she’d had girlfriends? It would certainly make Gwen’s life easier if that was so. It would also make things more difficult if there were girls all over Lindsay Crossing who had a history with Loomis.

  “Um, about the newcomers.” Annie lowered her voice.

  Pretending indifference, Gwen’s ears perked up. Was this one a hater too?

  Annie tucked her hands into her pockets. “I was talking to Micah, one of our new ones, and he told me something I think you should know.” Obviously uncomfortable, she looked away and Gwen’s eyes narrowed.

  “What is it?” Loomis still held the side of the cart with one hand.

  “He said that Riddick told them about us.”

  Loomis blanched, her freckles stark against her pallid face. The knuckles on her hand turned just as white as she gripped the metal door. She turned away, her searching gaze locking with Gwen’s. “Is that so?” she asked, her voice strained.

  Gwen didn’t know if she was asking Annie or her. All she could do was stare into the haunted eyes of her benefactor. Before she could respond, Annie put her hand on Loomis’s shoulder.

  “Yeah, that’s what he said. Riddick showed up a few years ago and stayed with them. He died a couple of months ago from an infected gunshot wound, but not before he told them about us.”

  Loomis closed her eyes, and Gwen almost reached forward to comfort her.

  “I didn’t want you to hear casual gossip about it, Marissa. Give you a chance to get used to the idea before the next Festival.”

  The color returned to Loomis’s face, and she swallowed hard. “Thanks, Annie. I appreciate that.” She took a deep breath, her movements shaky. When she opened her eyes again, they were calm and strong. “We’d best be getting home.”

  “You going to be okay?”

  Loomis called up a ghost of a smile, but Gwen saw how much it cost her. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. It was a long time ago.”

  Annie nodded, not entirely convinced. “Then I’ll see you at Festival.”

  “Yep.” Loomis gave the cart door another rattle to make sure it was secure. She went around to gather Tempest’s reins. Once mounted, she turned back. “Hey, Annie, Cara said we needed another gallon of honey. Can I send Rick out to get it?”

  “That’d be fine. If we’re not back by then, just let Malcolm know I spoke to you.”

  “All right. See you in a couple of weeks.”

  The cart jerked, and Gwen watched as they pulled away from Annie and her crew. She knew Riddick had a bad reputation from the Gatos’ arrival in Lindsay Crossing, but it seemed there was something very personal about Loomis’s response. What had happened? Her mind full of questions, she hardly noticed that without her mattress the ride was just as hard as before.

  ***

  In their travels to the house on Jasper Lane, they encountered one other family involved in the scavenging process. Again they stopped to talk. After a brief discussion, a package of sewing needles and two spools of thread were traded for a couple of quart canning jars. Loomis was more reserved with this group, quickly negotiating the transaction and pushing onward.

  Gwen shifted where she sat, disgruntled as something under the tarp poked her in the thigh. Loomis remained subdued and distant as she rode, acting as she had on the trip into town the day before. Gwen scowled at her unread book. She had enjoyed Loomis opening up to her. Now it seemed she would have to start all over again. It had been the mention of Riddick that caused this sudden distance. Gwen wanted to march her ass back to that bitch, Annie Faber, and give her a beating she wouldn’t soon forget.

  They stopped at a tidy little house. Loomis dismounted. “You two stay here.” She rummaged in her saddlebags for a screwdriver and a pair of pliers. “I won’t be long.”

  Watching her walk away, Gwen pouted. Loomis hadn’t even looked at her since Annie’s apparent bombshell, as if she’d thought Gwen had been hiding something by not mentioning that asshole’s name. Would Loomis make her sleep in the living room or with Cara now? It was totally unfair. It wasn’t her fault Riddick was with the Gatos or opened his fat mouth about Lindsay Crossing!What the hell did that fucker do to turn everybody against him? What had he done to Loomis to cause that tormented expression? Glum, she ignored Loomis’s return, pretending to read her book. While a part of her wanted to be left alone to sulk, she became even more sullen when Loomis didn’t bother to speak to her. The exasperating woman simply deposited the motor in the cart, climbed aboard her horse and got back to the business of going home.

  They traveled for some time, crossing the edge of the town limits and trundling up the road with their booty. Another cart passed, similar to theirs, this one pulled by a bull. Loomis greeted the three boys in it, but didn’t stop. Gwen began to worry. She gave up trying to read and watched the passing countryside, stealing peeks at Loomis’s profile. The woman no longer scanned their surroundings for potential danger, staring into the distance instead. She looked stern, angry even, her frown etching deep lines between her eyebrows.

  Unable to stand the silence any longer, Gwen awkwardly crawled across the moving cart until she was near the side Loomis rode along. “Are you okay?”

  Loomis blinked, coming out of her thoughts to stare at Gwen. “I’m fine,” she said, her voice sharp.

  Gwen glanced over at Terry who studiously looked the other direction. Coward. “No you’re not. You’ve been upset since you talked to that b…to Annie.” She breathed a sigh of relief that she’d stopped herself from calling the woman a bitch. Sending Loomis into an angry snit wouldn’t help Gwen find out what was going on inside her head. “It’s about Riddick.”

  The mere mention of his name caused a reaction. Loomis’s jaw convulsed under her skin as she ground her teeth, and her nose twitched as if smelling something bad. “So what if it is?”

  She refused to flinch away from Loomis’s fury. That would only show her to be powerless. Loomis didn’t need or deserve a weak woman at her side. Terry was now doing his best impersonation of a deaf man, humming to himself to keep from overhearing their conversation. She focused her attention on Loomis, keeping her tone calm. “I don’t know what that cracker did, but I know people here don’t like him. If you want, I’ll try to answer any questions you have.”

  Loomis’s anger seemed to recede. She peered closely at Gwen, as if measuring her sincerity. “How long did you know him?” she finally asked in a low voice.

  Gwen thought a moment. “Maybe four years. He was with the Gatos before I was.”

  Confusion crossed Loomis’s face. She shook her head slightly, as if quelling a stray thought. “How’d he die?”

  “Like Annie said. An infected gunshot wound.” Gwen looked away, remembering. “We found a stash of canned goods in a wrecked delivery truck. Weasel sent the soldiers out to collect it, but it was an ambush set up by the Dragons. They scragged four of our guys and wounded three others. Riddick got shot in the leg.”

  Loomis hugged herself. “But he lived.”

  Gwen nodded. “For a month. It looked like he’d get better, but after a week he started to get sick.” She grimaced, remembering the smell of gangrene as the man’s wound putrefied. “It got pretty ugly. Toward the end he became delirious, talking about coming home.” Speaking of looking ill, Loomis had turned gray. What happened? “We were fading fast by then. There wasn’t enough food, and everybody was getting weak. Weasel got him talking about Li
ndsay Crossing and where it was. After Riddick died, Weasel rounded us up and we left.”

  “Did he receive a proper burial?”

  She froze, knowing how Loomis felt about burying the dead. Lying was out of the question; all of the older Gatos knew the answer and the truth would eventually get back to Loomis. She steeled herself for castigation. “No. We left him in his sick bed.”

  Loomis nodded slowly, her lip curled into a snarl. “Good.”

  Gwen’s mouth dropped open as Loomis urged Tempest to a trot. She didn’t go far before slowing, just ahead of the horse Terry guided.

  Turning to the boy, Gwen asked, “Do you want to tell me what the hell that was about?”

  He shrugged, mystified. “I don’t know. I knew she was mad, but I don’t know who the guy is you’re talking about.”

  Gwen grunted in acknowledgment, her attention on Loomis’s back.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Loomis stayed ahead of them for the rest of the trip. They bypassed Lindsay Crossing completely, turning onto a rough road and circling the town. Gwen thought it made sense from a security standpoint—no need to advertise a full load of goods someone else might want. She wondered if that wasn’t the reason. Maybe Loomis didn’t want to see anybody who might have heard about Riddick’s involvement with the Gatos. The longer she mulled it over, the more likely she thought that was the cause of the detour. Whatever had happened between Riddick and Loomis had left some ugly scars. Loomis didn’t want anybody to see how it affected her. Was he the cause of Loomis’s nightmare? If so, who was the boy Loomis was defending in the dream? A friend? A brother? Gwen frowned, remembering the photo in Loomis’s bedroom. The next oldest boy seemed too old to have survived the plague. That left Rick as the most likely suspect. He seemed okay, something she doubted would be true if Riddick had been involved.

  Riddick had been all manner of asshole. He had liked hurting people. Weasel had been forced many times to step in when Riddick went crazy on his girls or with the other Gatos. Only the fact that Weasel had the manpower backing him kept Riddick in line. Fact was, even if the crew had made it a regular practice to bury their dead, they probably would have left him to rot where he had croaked. The only ones who liked him were a couple of crackers that hung with him. Come to think of it, Riddick was the last of that little clique. The two fuckers that had hung with him had gotten themselves killed in the same raid that had wounded him. No loss, really. The three were a violent explosion waiting to happen. Did all of them come from here? If they had, it was no wonder the townies weren’t pleased to hear his name. Considering how pure these people were, Riddick’s crew must have been a cancer in their midst. She wished she knew where Weasel or one of his lieutenants had ended up. They could tell her if those crackers had arrived in the city together.

  It wasn’t much after midday when they pulled into the overgrown lane leading to the homestead. Gwen paid a little closer attention to her surroundings this time, seeing the solar panels with fresh eyes. She didn’t know shit about electricity, had no idea how much could be gathered by four panels. Did they power anything else besides the ceiling fans?

  Once over the creek bridge, Terry steered the horses toward the cabin instead of the barns. Loomis was already there, dismounting and tying Tempest to a post by the woodpile. As Terry stopped the horses and hauled on the brake, she disappeared inside. Gwen slowly climbed out of the wagon, feeling more bruised and battered than she had upon her first arrival. She groaned and stretched, feeling her spine crackle in appreciation.

  The door burst open, Megan and Delia dashing out, nearly running Gwen down. “What’d you get? Anything good?” Megan’s eyes were bright with excitement. Delia didn’t even bother to ask, climbing onto the bumper of the cart, trying to pull herself high enough to climb inside.

  “Nothing for you.” Terry’s nose stuck into the air. “Unless you guys are babies. We got lots of baby stuff.”

  “I’m not a baby!” Megan’s brow furrowed, looking exactly like Loomis had after her conversation with Gwen. The resemblance was so complete that Gwen stared at her, feeling the same dread as she had when discussing Riddick with Loomis.

  Delia made it into the cart and tugged on the knots holding the tarp in place. “Oscar’s the baby now.”

  “Yeah, Oscar’s the baby,” Megan stuck her tongue out at Terry.

  “Hey, none of that now.” Loomis appeared at the door. She picked up Megan, giving her a kiss before depositing her in the cart with Delia. “You’ll always be my baby.”

  The little girl rolled her eyes. “That’s different.” She scrambled forward to help her friend.

  Kevin and Rick came out, still chewing mouthfuls of food. Gwen’s stomach rumbled as she realized it was past lunchtime. She remained in place, watching Loomis as she spoke with the two of them, reaching out to pat Kevin’s shoulder in greeting. Despite her attempt to appear pleased at being home, there was a level of aloofness that didn’t leave her hazel eyes as she imparted instructions about unloading the cart.

  “What happened?” a soft voice asked.

  Gwen jumped as she realized Heather had come out to stand beside her. “What do you mean?”

  “Loomis is upset. Can’t you see it?”

  A stab of irritation spiked through Gwen, but she held off snapping. “She’s been upset since talking with Annie Faber this morning.” She crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself. What would the rest of the Loomis household have to say about her news?

  Heather’s expression was puzzled. “Why? What did Annie say?”

  Gwen turned toward her, face stern. “She told her that Riddick was the reason we came from the city. He’s the one who told us about Lindsay Crossing.”

  Heather’s eyes widened, and her complexion became wan. “Oh, my God.” Her glance flickered beyond Gwen’s shoulder.

  Looking behind her, Gwen saw Loomis still deep in discussion with the boys, Terry having joined them at the front of the cart. “You going to tell me what the hell is going on here? How come Loomis got so furious when she heard his name?”

  “Whose name?” Cara had come outside.

  Heather turned and whispered a response.

  Cara’s lips thinned, and Gwen saw the same hatred spark in her brown eyes. “Don’t ever say that name around here again.”

  Gwen wanted to let loose her anger, push the issue. Everybody knew what significance this information had but her. She hated that. Right now her position was weak. She was still too new, too much an outsider to have any power in this situation. Maybe when she had some time to ingratiate herself more with Loomis, become a member of the “family,” things would be easier to talk about. Until then she was left with little recourse but to keep her mouth shut. She nodded agreement to Cara’s demand and let herself be distracted by a bowl of stew inside the cabin. Lucky was there, rocking Oscar in the crib as she struggled with reading a book. She came to the table and sat with Gwen, discussing her day at the homestead. Gwen pretended to pay attention, wondering when and where she could get her questions answered.

  ***

  Predictably, the afternoon was spent unloading the cart into the cabin. Delia and Megan were pleased to receive a handful of stuffed animals to add to their collection, dusty as they were. Loomis doled out a ream of paper to each person, leaving her with a handful of legal pads that she carefully placed on one of the living room shelves for the future. Also unavoidable were the responses of Heather and Cara when they saw the contents of the sewing room. They squealed almost as much as the little girls did over their toys. Gwen shook her head. She watched Cara going over the dressmaking dummy, removing the partially completed outfit still attached to it, and felt a measure of amusement despite the woman’s caustic order earlier. Heather pored over the abundant material, separating it into various piles.

  The shoes were a bit big for Kevin. That was a good thing. At least he had room to grow into them. He came away with a pair each of tennis shoes, hiking boots and mustard colored
knee-high boots that obviously went with one of those weird outfits. Gwen watched him chatter to Lucky about his shoes and couldn’t help but smile. When had she ever seen him this open and happy? Whether or not things worked out here for her, it looked like both Lucky and Kevin had found some measure of belonging.

  With Terry’s help, Rick had been forcibly stuffed into one of those elaborate tunics. There were wide belts in one of the wooden chests from the basement, and he wrapped one around his cousin’s waist, trying to figure out how to buckle it in place. On the back of the couch was the red cloak and one of the swords from the mantel. Terry planned on dressing Rick from head to toe in the getup, and the older boy laughed, interrupting the attempts by tickling his cousin.

  Loomis sat on a stool at the breakfast bar, arms crossed as she watched her family with an odd expression on her face. There was a soft smile on her lips, almost wistful looking, like she was happy for them but didn’t expect to ever feel the same for herself. One or another of them would draw her into conversation, but only for a moment or two before they were distracted by their bling-bling. As soon as their attention deviated, Loomis returned to the outskirts of the muted celebration, always watching.

  Did she always step back from them? The rest of the Loomis clan didn’t seem to notice their head honcho’s disquiet, thereby flashing a big red neon light of warning to Gwen that this was standard Marissa Loomis behavior. Good leaders usually did keep themselves at least a little separate from those they guided. Of the few gangs she had some experience with, Gwen counted the most powerful ones as having a cool and distant head as the chief. Weasel had been that way. Otherwise the Gatos would never have survived as long as they had. She frowned to herself, comparing her past experiences with what she saw here. Loomis and her townies might be pure, but they followed the same general principles. The reason Loomis held power was because she kept herself at arm’s length. People respected her for her detachment, listened to her because she didn’t flap her gums all the time, and obeyed her orders because she didn’t give them often. About the only difference Gwen could see was that Weasel backed up his commands with violent reprisals if he was disobeyed. Had Loomis been like this when she was a kid? Or did it happen when Riddick fucked things up for himself so much that he had to run away to the city?