Orphan Maker Read online

  The street tough’s shoulders slumped in relief, the shaking more evident. “Graciás.” He stumbled when he shook Walker’s hand.

  Several of the older Gatos began to cry, the young ones joining them in confusion. Even the soldiers had wet eyes, as did their leader. Only Gwen’s eyes were dry, and they studied Loomis with intense concentration. With just a couple of sentences that girl had changed everything. Her word carried enough weight that those most against the decision had agreed. Gwen had to go home with her.

  The mayor returned his attention to the audience. “Let’s take a bit of a breather and get to know these folks a little. Then we can figure out how to divvy them up amongst us.”

  As the meeting broke up, those that were voted down denied any responsibility for the mess and left. Others approached, making tentative gestures of friendship, moving among the young ones with caring eyes. Gwen ignored them all, rudely stepping past a boy who had spoken to her to watch Loomis. She was fascinating; so serious and strong. A group had gathered around her and when she spoke, they really listened. What kind of person was she to command such respect? Why wasn’t she running this town? When Loomis began drifting toward the door, her brother or whatever following, Gwen felt her heart seize. She’s not going to leave, is she? She can’t spout that shit about taking people in, and then not do it herself!

  Walker also saw Loomis preparing to leave. He dropped his conversation with one of the Gatos to intercept her. As Gwen observed, he spent a few tense moments speaking with her, gesturing to the refugees still gathered on the dais. Loomis seemed reluctant, flat-out refusing at one point before grudgingly allowing him to persuade her. The boy with her made a comment, shrugging. Finally, she nodded at Walker, a curt up and down motion revealing her exasperation. Gwen felt her gaze with an electric shock as it swept over her. Swallowing hard, an unfamiliar sting in her eyes, she barely noted the beginning of tears. She stared so attentively at Loomis, she read her lips as she said, “Two or three,” and then something else.

  Pleased, Walker scanned the crowd. He fairly strutted toward Gwen, whose heart raced. Instead of speaking to her, he stopped at a boy standing alone a few feet away.

  “What’s your name?”

  The boy stared, eyes wide. “K…Kevin.”

  Walker put a hand on his shoulder. “Kevin, do you have any brothers or sisters here?”

  “No. My brother died last year.”

  “You’re about ten or eleven, aren’t you?”

  Kevin dropped his gaze, and shrugged. “I don’t know,” he mumbled. “I don’t know when my birthday is.”

  “Well, you look like you’re ten or eleven,” Walker said, not to be dissuaded. “Why don’t you come with me? I’ve got someone who has a place for you. They have a boy your age, too.” As Kevin nodded, Walker looked at the kids in the immediate vicinity. “And two girls, any age.”

  Gwen jumped forward, feeling as if a knife had been thrust into her backside. “Me! My name’s Gwen.” The others were reluctant, uncertain what would happen to them if they got separated. Not allowing that to daunt her, Gwen reached out and grabbed the closet one’s hand, tugging her forward. “This is Lucky and her baby, Oscar.”

  Walker grinned. “Kevin, Gwen and Lucky. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Three

  “Please, Loomis. As a personal favor to me.”

  Loomis had already told Walker no, but he didn’t buy it. What did she have to do, beat him over the head to make good her escape? He blocked the door, and now everyone watched them. Oh, they looked away when she glanced around, but she saw the worst of the gossipmongers edging closer to hear the conversation. At least Rick stood solidly at her shoulder, backing her choice, whatever it was. “C’mon, Dwayne, we’ve got seven at home, and another on the way. Our homestead’s not that big.”

  “Maybe not.” Walker rubbed the back of his neck. “But I remember up until Orphan Maker, you had almost an easy dozen living there. You didn’t complain much then.”

  Loomis didn’t remind him that they had traveled in far different circles during childhood, he a middle school football jock and she a homeschooler active in the 4-H youth group. He hadn’t heard any complaints because they had never socialized with each other before the plague. He glanced over his shoulder at the gathering. She couldn’t help but shift her gaze that direction. The initial ice had been broken, yet there were still two distinct camps among those gathered under the skylight. These city kids had been through a lot. They considered themselves family. Now that they were here, they were being split up. She could imagine how they felt, but the reality of the situation made their separation a necessity. They had no idea how to survive out here. There was no place large enough to house them together, at least not one able to support forty-three stomachs. She met her brother’s eyes, not pleased to see an apologetic tilt to his head. He would back her if she said no, but he thought they should do as Walker wanted.

  “A lot of our folks are hemming and hawing,” Walker said. “If they see you take a couple home, they’ll be more inclined. You already turned the vote. I’m just asking to bring this whole thing down the field to the goal.”

  She wondered if Rick could distract him long enough to allow her to sneak out the door. She doubted it. Walker had a reputation for fanaticism when he got his teeth into an idea. He always had. That’s what had made him a good football captain.

  Rick finally spoke. “Probably wouldn’t hurt, Loomis. Maybe we could find someone Terry’s age. Help cool him down some.”

  Though his words caused her spirits to sink, the idea of her youngest cousin having someone to pal around with had appeal. It might mellow him out a bit; Lord knew he was running wild these days. Besides, if Cara found out Loomis had turned Walker down, there’d be hell to pay. Loomis sighed, and scanned the church, noting the long ears on a few of the chatterboxes. She guaranteed Cara would know by the end of the day if she refused. “Two or three. One boy about Terry’s age, and the others girls.”

  “Thank you, Loomis!” He darted away to find her new family members before she could change her mind.

  “I’d better not regret this.”

  Rick shrugged, a ghost of a smile on his face. “You will. You always do when you volunteer for something.”

  Rather than respond with a raspberry, as was her first intention, Loomis only raised an eyebrow at him.

  “Okay.” Walker surprised her with how fast he had collected people. “This is Kevin, Gwen and Lucky.” To the city kids, he said, “And this is Rick and Marissa Loomis. They’ll take care of you.”

  Loomis gave him a dirty look when she saw a baby. He fled her presence, and rightly so. Two or three didn’t constitute a babe in arms that hadn’t even been weaned. Child mortality was brutal now that there weren’t any physicians. What the hell was he thinking? Unable to get out of the responsibility now, she looked the new kids over. They had definitely been through a wringer. Their skin hung off their bones. Kevin was black, his complexion more gray than anything, and his skin appeared dry and scaly. Of the two girls, it looked like the babe’s mother was in better health. Loomis figured they had probably let her have the quality food since she was nursing, which wasn’t really saying much.

  They stared back at her with trepidation and an odd intensity, reminding her why they were there. “Come on then. The sooner we get you home, the sooner you can eat and rest.” She turned and led them out of the church.

  It was good to be in the sunlight again. The atmosphere outside starkly contrasted with the church’s interior. The new arrivals stank of sweat and dust, and the air quality inside had suffered in the extreme. Out here Loomis could also see better, and she continued her examination. It was with a jolt of surprise that she realized the smallest girl was in actuality about her age. She might have been pretty once, but not after the rigors she had experienced. Freckles stood out in stark relief against a pallid complexion, and her chestnut mane was dry and brittle. The boy’s hair was in an unruly Afro, long
since fallen into a nest of clumps that stuck out at all angles. It would be impossible to comb the tangles out, not to mention the high chance that all three carried lice. It would be best to cut his down as far as possible. The question was, how to get it done without hurting him? It wasn’t like he was a sheep to be sheared. The young mother was probably older than Rick, but not by much. As Loomis had noted before, she looked healthier, but she could still pose for a Holocaust survivor photo that Loomis had seen in books. Her black hair was cut short in a ragged and haphazard fashion. Loomis figured they would spend the remainder of the afternoon and evening scrubbing all three of them raw, and burning their clothes.

  “Jesus, Loomis, look at their feet.”

  Lucky wore dainty-looking sandals of cork and plastic. They had cut her feet to ribbons, road dust dark where it had mixed with blood. Beside her, Kevin shuffled his tennis shoes in an attempt to hide the worst of the damage. The uppers of one had fully ripped from its sole, and someone had duct taped it down. That had been done some time ago, if Loomis guessed right. The only one with decent footgear was Gwen, though she wore her boots with no socks. Chances were good her feet were rubbed raw from the friction despite the small amount of common sense she had shown. Loomis shook her head. “It’s going to be slow going. We’ll put the girls on Tempest, and Kevin on Starkey. You and I can walk the horses.”

  “All right. Come on, Kevin.” Rick stopped by a large red-brown stallion tied to a rusting street sign.

  The boy stopped dead in his tracks, eyes wide. “That’s a horse!”

  Rick chuckled. “Yeah, it is. Never seen one before?”

  “Only on TV. And movies when I was little.”

  “Come on. His name’s Starkey. He won’t bite.”

  Loomis watched as Rick coaxed the boy toward the horse. When she turned to the girls, she noticed Gwen staring at her. She vaguely wondered if there was something on her face, maybe some dirt from the garden. Annoyed, Loomis swiped at her nose. She retrieved her horse, a midnight black animal with white socks. “This is Tempest. Don’t worry—he’s not like his name. He’s pretty gentle.”

  It took a bit of doing for Lucky to get into the saddle. She kept cringing away when she was supposed to be climbing astride, and the shoes didn’t help. Gwen took the baby from her while she struggled, and handed it up after she was finally aboard. By the time they were both mounted, Loomis was spitting nails. Gwen seemed to take right to Tempest, and for that Loomis was grateful. There wasn’t room for both girls on the gear, and Gwen sat on the horse’s flanks right behind the saddle. She seemed to have no problem with her location.

  After the amount of time it had taken, Loomis was happy to see she wasn’t the only one to have trouble with the newcomers. Several of her neighbors were in the beginning stages of dealing with scared city kids balking at the idea of riding these monstrosities. Some at least were lucky enough to have caretakers who’d shown up in wagons. The few people who lived in the town proper had already departed with their new family members, and groups of three and four continued to trickle out of the church.

  Loomis instructed the riders, “Come on then. We’ll go slow until you get used to it, okay? Just try to loosen up a little. Don’t bunch up your hips, move with the horse.”

  As Loomis led Tempest, Rick fell in beside her. “At this rate, lunch is going to be colder than the lake in winter when we get home.”

  “Naw. Heather will warm it up for us.”

  “For you maybe.”

  Rick chuckled. “I’ll see you’re taken care of.”

  “What the heck are we going to do with them?”

  “Just what we’re doing. Take them in, feed them, and teach them how to survive away from the city.” He glanced over his shoulder at the strangers. “What do you reckon happened anyway? I thought the city kids would have electricity, all sorts of things. And here they are looking like something half chewed, and forgotten.”

  “They didn’t think. I mean, check out Lucky’s feet. That wasn’t an accident; that was days and days of walking in worthless shoes. Gwen’s shoes are newer. I’m betting she changed from the ones she started with. Why didn’t Lucky have the brains to do the same?”

  “Don’t know. Doesn’t seem they’re right in the head.”

  “I don’t think city kids ever were.”

  “We ain’t deaf, you know,” Gwen said from behind them.

  Loomis groaned silently, her face reddening. Her brother also blushed, though a slow grin grew on his face. She looked over her shoulder. “Sorry. I’m pretty good at putting my foot in my mouth.”

  “I noticed. Does it run in the family?”

  Her eyes narrowed, and her embarrassment faded. She turned around, leading the horse while she walked backward. “Well, you’re part of it now. You tell me.”

  Rick snickered. Kevin watched from his seat, eyes wide. Lucky clutched the saddle horn as if expecting to fly from her perch at any moment.

  Gwen, appearing more like a mud-ridden fairy creature than a human being, tilted her head in thought. “Probably,” she said. “At least I’ll fit in.”

  “I believe you will.” Rick laughed outright.

  Loomis gave him a grumpy look that did nothing to sway his humor. Since the door was open, she asked Gwen, “So why were you the only one to change shoes?”

  “I don’t know. I got nothing to prove, I guess. I’ve never been big on bling-bling or ballin’.”

  Loomis blinked at her, trying to connect the words to meanings. “What’s bling-bling?”

  “What’s ballin’?” Rick asked at the same time. “Some kind of game?”

  Kevin gaped at the siblings before casting a disbelieving eye at his friends. “Don’t you talk English?”

  “Apparently not your version.” Loomis raised an eyebrow. “Should make for some interesting conversations.”

  “Schyeah, right.”

  She returned her attention to Gwen. “What’s ballin’ got to do with nothing to prove and wearing decent walking shoes?”

  Gwen rolled her eyes. “Nothing to prove! You know.” When it became obvious Loomis didn’t, she pursed her lips. “I got no reason to show off, nobody to say I’m screwed up for wearing these fucked-up things instead of something cool.”

  Loomis tried to wrap her mind around the concept.

  “Peer pressure,” Rick murmured.

  Hazel eyes wide, Loomis scoffed. “You’re joking.”

  “That’s what it sounds like to me.”

  “What’s peer pressure?” Kevin asked.

  “When your friends make you do stupid things like wear shoes that mangle your feet because they look cool.” Loomis grimaced.

  Easily picking up on her irritation, the boy stared at his hands. “Oh.”

  “Mellow out, Loomis,” Rick said. “They’ve been through enough.”

  Chagrined, Loomis heeded him. “You’re right.” To the others, she said, “You’ll go through more before the sun sets. You’re all in need of a bath. Kevin, the hair’s got to go, son. And Lucky, those feet need doctoring something bad, or you’ll lose more than a little blood.”

  “What about me?” Gwen asked.

  “I’ll just wash your mouth out with soap for that foul language.”

  Gwen snorted, her face reflecting indignation. “What foul language?”

  “The ‘f’ word, miss.” Loomis turned her back on the horse. “We’ve got children in our home, and they don’t need to be hearing any of it. Not even Kevin should know those words.” She continued along the road, her brother beside her. She knew Gwen’s eyes bored an angry hole in her back. For some reason, the idea pleased her.

  Chapter Four

  Being on foot, it took them a lot longer to reach home. Part of the way was spent in silence until Kevin got over his initial nervousness. Then he peppered them with questions about horses and farms. He was especially pleased with the notion that some day he might have a horse of his own. The baby fussed for a bit. Loomis wasn’t happy with
the weak sound it made. Hell, she didn’t even know if it was a boy or a girl, but her taciturn behavior made asking the question a hurdle she wasn’t willing to jump. Gwen kept staring, and Loomis couldn’t figure out if she was still mad or not. She really hoped they hadn’t picked up someone who held grudges. Terry did that well enough on his own; he didn’t need extra lessons.

  She breathed a sigh of relief as they turned onto the overgrown lane leading to the homestead. The brush fence, created years ago by her father and uncle when they had first cleared the land, was shot through with brambles and budding berry patches. Originally only three feet tall by three feet wide, the plant life had taken it over, doubling its height and filling every available space between dead limbs with greenery. “We’re going to have to trim this back some.” She swatted a wayward branch away from her face.

  “Yup. You’ve been saying that for two years.”

  She scowled at Rick, still out of sorts. “This time I mean it.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answered smoothly, unimpressed with her mood.

  Loomis made a face and dropped the subject.

  Fifty feet farther, the lane curved left and over a creek bridge. The horses whiffled at the sound of the water as it rushed beneath them and into the fishpond. Loomis gave the small dock a wistful look. The day had heated up considerably since this morning, and a swim would fit the bill. Her stomach growled, and she thought having lunch first would be better. She glanced back at the newcomers who ignored the inviting water as they studied their new home. Even Gwen had stopped staring at her, eyes scanning the cabin and its outbuildings. Loomis looked over the property, wondering how they saw the place.

  The lane continued on, bracketed by the pond and the huge garden. Beyond the garden was the cabin itself, about as big as the two barns toward which they led the horses. From here she also saw the tool shed and the summer kitchen. Back behind the cabin stood the woodlot. There were some other buildings, but trees and bushes hid them from view. Loomis supposed the place looked kind of wild to city folk. The garden was neat and orderly, but that was about the only thing that was. She would need to sharpen the push mower again; the grass in the picnic area was beginning to climb a little high. The aroma of sheep dung hit her nose as they neared the barns. The herd was hanging close to the pasture gate, the ewes ready for another milking before the day was over.