WWIV - Basin of Secrets (20 page)

“That door is staying closed until Willem is done with Rachel.” Peering at the older three, he wondered how close they were listening. “You can take them all for a stroll when Rachel comes back, okay?”

Mrs. Tower rushed him. “What can he possibly be doing with that poor child? She’s only 13.”

Howard tilted his head before responding. “First of all, Rachel’s 14. And it’s none of your business what they’re up to.”

Expressions of shock and horror covered the women’s faces. “She’s too young…” Mrs. Reich replied, as hateful as possible.

Howard leaned back in his chair and grinned at the oldest of the three. “She’s too young for what Mrs. Reich? Too young for what boys and girls do best? Nah, I don’t think so. She’s old enough.”

The women covered their mouths and formed a tight circle, too shocked and disgusted to respond directly to Howard. “I would have never agreed to this duty if I had known how evil that man is,” Mrs. Peach stated to the others. Instantly, the pair agreed.

“Like you had a choice,” Howard laughed at the trio. Leaning forward, he grinned at them. “Well, I guess you did actually. Take a wagon ride to hell or stay here and help out. I think you made the best choice, given the options.”

“You must get that girl back to us. Rachel needs to come to us now,” Mrs. Tower demanded.

Leaning back in his chair, Howard ignored her. “She’ll be back when Will’s done with her. And not a moment before.”

The three looked at each other, unable to find any sympathy from him. Behind them, the pounding started in again. “Howard, I need to see Rachel,” Suzanne cried. “Now, Howard.”

Rachel peeked up at Willem, still uncertain what he wanted from her. An hour had passed since the others had been dismissed. And here she sat, still in the same place, untouched since they had gone.

“What do you want from me, Mr. Tarlisch?” she asked. “Are you going to make me pregnant?”

From the far side of the room, Willem scoffed at her childish words. “Me? No. Perhaps Andy can do it, but I have no interest in a little girl like you.”

“Then why are you doing this to me? Doing this to the others?” Looking down at her lap to her folded hands, she jumped hearing his approach.

“I want to send a message. I want all of Salt Lake – no, all of the basin – to know I am king. If you try to screw with me, I will kill you. If you try to hurt my family, I will hurt yours. Do you understand that, child?”

Rachel cringed at his booming voice. “No,” she cried. “I don’t understand any of it. I’m sorry.”

“Your father, your family – they hurt mine. So I’m hurting them back. Twice as hard,” he snarled. Reaching out, he played with the collar of her buttoned down shirt. “And you, my precious child, are my number one pawn.” With one rapid motion, he ripped the collars apart and the shirt tore open, buttons flying and scattering throughout the dining room.

Rachel screamed and pulled her shirt closed as best as possible. Crying, she looked up into his narrowed, awful eyes. “Please don’t hurt me,” she begged. “I’ll be good. I promise. Just don’t hurt me, please.”
 

With tears streaking her youthful cheeks, Rachel peeked at Willem. When he reached to wipe her face clean, she flinched, frightened by his touch. Softly, he took her chin and lifted her face to gaze.

“I think it’s time you go back with the others now,” he whispered in her ear. “At least this will give all of them something to think about.”

Shaking in her chair, Rachel’s bladder failed as she nodded nervously at the devil above her.

Andy surveyed his troops, unhappy with what he saw. He knew there should be more, but he couldn’t figure out who was missing. Finally, sick of counting and waiting, he screamed out of frustration, “Landry, who the hell are we missing? I know this isn’t everyone.”

From her position among the troops, she guided her horse forward and stopped next to Andy. Rising tall in the saddle, she surveyed the group. After more than a few head swivels, she called for his attention. “I don’t see Riggins or Marsh, nor any of their riders.”

Rolling his head skyward, Andy let his mouth fall open. “I got here, you got here.” Staring back toward earth, he continued. “And six others made it here. They knew where we were headed, right?”
 

Melinda shrugged. “I assume Howard gave them detailed instructions.”

“Will gives the orders, not Howard,” he snarled.

She grinned. “Well,” she said, looking at the rest of the troops, “then Will gave them bad directions, I guess.”

Andy’s head tore around as if it were on a swivel. “If they’re lost,” he spit between gritted teeth, “it’s Howard’s fault, not Will’s.”
 

As he attempted to stare her down, Melinda looked away, grinning. “Whatever, you’re in charge here. Do we wait or do we ride on?”
 

Spinning his horse to survey the entire scene, Andy frowned. How could those idiots get lost? He needed everyone. Backing his horse between his monstrous henchman Freddy Wilson and Lieutenant Landry, he nodded several times. “We wait another little bit,” he answered. “I want to hit those camps with a full complement of troops, not just a few. Who’s got a watch?” Landry’s arm shot forward, exposing her large windup model. “Okay, one hour. Dismount the gang and let’s wait.” Turning to Landry, he winked. “Maybe an hour plus a few minutes. I like Marsh; I’d hate to have him miss the action.”

Landry rode off to instruct her team as Andy studied her from behind. “If I pull this off like I think I will,” he called back to Wilson, “maybe she’ll think I’m all that, too. Maybe she’ll see that Will ain’t the only tough Tarlisch around.” Wilson moved his horse to instruct more people to dismount, not bothering to respond. “Maybe,” Andy quipped to himself.

Marsh finally showed up, but after two hours, Andy was forced to give up waiting on Riggins. With everyone back in the saddle, 134 riders headed south toward Camps Eight and Nine. Four miles down the trail, the group split in two. Andy and his half headed for Camp Eight. Melinda Landry and her slightly smaller group rode ahead for Camp Nine, still another hour off. By late afternoon, they would have both camps surrounded. By dusk, Andy hoped to have answers on the whereabouts of Talbot Bond. By nightfall, regardless of which camp had the militia captain, he would have a rider halfway to Salt Lake with the good news.

Stopping a mere quarter mile from Camp Eight, Andy listened as three scouts reported their intelligence.

“They’re on alert, but I didn’t see any weapons,” the chief scout reported. “Three guards at the main gate and four people on perimeter patrol. I think a runner from Camp Nine just left, headed back there I suppose.”

Andy sat tall in his saddle. “How about any sightings of the Guard?”

“Nah,” replied the same scout. “Haven’t seen anything of them. Maybe that’s what’s holding Riggins up. Maybe they ran into a unit or two.”

Young Tarlisch focused on the scouts, upset. “Those units are five or six men. We got 15 in every one of ours. We’d wipe them out in a second.” Looking away, he softened. “Riggins got lost, that’s all.”

“Well, whatever is whatever,” the scout replied. “We got 65 armed men and women ready to surround that camp. They got maybe 30 adults and no weapons that I can tell. I say let’s hit ‘em now.”

Andy looked back at Wilson, his friend. “Move the gang around the camp. Be sure no one sneaks out. Then come join me at the front.” Drawing his attention back on the scouts, he pointed south. “You guys get down to Camp Nine and let them know we’ve moved in. After they’re all in place, send two men back so we can figure out if that coward is here or there. Got it?”

The three jerked the reins on their horses, away from the meeting. “Yes sir,” the scout leader called out as he and the others rode away. Andy grinned, happy with the respect shown to him.

He rode back to the rest of the group. Confident they were alone, he shouted instructions. “You half,” he called pointing to his left, “go round the north and drape down on the east side with Freddy. The rest of you, follow me, and we’ll blanket the west and south.”
 

“Do not fire your weapons,” Freddy Wilson ordered. “If we get people trying to escape, ride them down, knock them to the ground, and drag them back to camp.” His loud voice boomed in the dense forest. “If anyone fires their weapon without Andy’s permission, they’ll deal with me.”
 

Andy watched as heads nodded at Wilson’s words. Like it or not, Andy was their boss today – their field general. By this time tomorrow, his cousin would be singing his praises. He might even be awarded a home by himself, and several wives. Maybe he, Andy Tarlisch, would replace Howard as Willem’s second-in-command. And maybe someday, he would be king of the Salt Lake Basin.

“Andy,” Wilson hollered back. “We’re all leaving, Andy.” Embarrassed by his daydream, he rode forward – perhaps toward his true destiny.

“So you see,” Jed Fordham continued his speech for Betsi, “your dad knew Tarlisch was coming. And soon. So he felt it important to stay on the move at all times.”

Betsi considered Jed’s words before replying. Everything he had said about her father sounded right, so far, to her. “Couldn’t he stay somewhere like this? Somewhere where he’d be protected by many men?”

Both Jed and Frank’s heads shook. “We have a limited supply of weapons, you see,” Jed replied. Pacing, he continued. “Even if we had a big stock of guns, we’d still only have so much ammo for those guns. If we got in a shootout with Tarlisch’s gang, we’d be empty within five minutes. After that…” He shrugged looking at the ground. “…we’d all be dead in five more.”

Betsi’s body shook with a powerful tremor. She knew it was bad in the uplands, just not
this
bad. For more than a few years, rumors had spread throughout the entire basin about the primitive conditions in the mountains. The camps were designed to work together, in harmony. But little squabbles turned into wars of words, and the system broke down quickly. Now she had the distinct impression that each camp was run autonomously, completely on their own.

“There’s some ammo down in Salt Lake. Why haven’t you gone back down to trade or something before it got so desperate?” she asked.

“Nothing to trade,” Frank stated from his seated spot behind Betsi. “Plus,” he added with a slight drawl, “no one up here really trusts anyone down there. That’s why we chose to live away from the others, after all.” Betsi sighed; Jed Fordham shrugged again. “It’s not much of a life, but it’s ours. What we produce, what we create, is all our own. We do some trades with Camps Nine and Ten, but mostly we try and stay self-sufficient. It’s better than living by someone else’s rules. Especially in a world where so many don’t have much to offer. Here, everyone earns their keep.”

“And when something like this happens?” Betsi inquired.

Jed gazed at her with an ashamed face. “Nothing like this has ever happened. The last bad thing was 12 years ago, when everything died. Camps One, Two and Three were immediately established afterwards. By the next winter, Camps Four through Nine were in place. Kind of crude at first, but things got better every year. See, there was no trouble wandering in the uplands back then. The road scum didn’t get up here until year four. We all had fences by then.”

“Used our ammo stupid at first,” Frank added. “Target shooting and such.” He shook his head in disgust. “Wish we had half that ammo back now. We could really protect ourselves then.”

Jed chuckled at Frank. “Right now, Tarlisch could overrun us with a gang of kids, if they were armed.”

Betsi didn’t laugh, she didn’t even smile. She’d thought things were dire in Salt Lake. But they were worse here. “So, he left here a couple of weeks ago?”

Checking his camp log, Jed shook his head. “Nah, it was more like a month ago. Just seems like a couple weeks up here. Days and weeks don’t mean as much when you struggle every moment for survival.” Flipping pages, he looked back at Frank. “Doc went at the same time as him?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” the older man answered. “That lad of the gal that runs the camp had some kind of bug, remember?”

Jed’s face wrinkled as he considered the facts. “Oh that’s right. Didn’t they have a couple of people sick?” Frank nodded. “And she lost that other boy to the fever a number of years ago. So, I suppose she had a reason to be jumpy. When did Doc come back?”

“Last week,” Frank replied without thinking.

Betsi halted the exchange. “Are you telling me a woman runs one of the camps? Really? I thought this was a chauvinistic bunch up here.”
 

Jed and Frank smiled at her. “Well, she’s the first to do it on a permanent basis,” Jed said. “And she’s good, damn good. Pretty much everyone at her camp loves her. She’s tough, but fair, I’m told. The few times I’ve met her she seemed competent. Not much to her, but that don’t mean she ain’t got heart, right?”

“How long has she been the leader?” Betsi asked.

“Oh, I bet it’s been five or six years now,” Frank added. “Will be for a long time if Cara Wake has anything to say about it.”

Betsi eyes grew wide. “Who did you say?”
 

“That’s her name, the leader. Cara Wake. All five feet of her, if she’s that tall.” Frank examined her face. “You know her?”

Betsi stiffened her face. “No, just thought the name sounded familiar. But I don’t think so.” She looked away, hoping they’d lose interest in her reaction. “So,” she said changing the subject, “is my father still at Camp Nine?”

“Yeah, he’s still there.” Jed quickly answered the question while Frank’s face darkened. “According to Doc at least.”

Betsi waited to see if Frank would have anything further to add. After a long, uncomfortable, silence she spoke again. “Then I need to be off to Camp Nine.”

“Not tonight,” Jed chided. “It will be pitch black within a half-hour. It’s a two-hour walk in daylight. Not even sure you’d find it in the dark. Kinda off the beaten path.”

Betsi stood up, collecting her backpack from the table. “I’m not afraid of the dark. I’m sure I can find it.” This time, Frank placed a hand on top of hers.