Back To Our Beginning (14 page)

“Honey, don’t be like that,” Cord said in his best cajoling voice, he was enjoying the wordplay. It was a relief to have a conversation for once with someone who could hold up their end of it.

“It’s cold outside, in fact damned freezing. I’ll bet your friends are popsicles already. You need us to survive. To feed you and protect you.”

“Who’s going to protect us from you?” Emmy offered quietly, eyes downcast.

“Well, I do believe you might have some fight in you,” Cord drawled, casting Emmy an appreciative look.

Summing up the situation, Tansy felt dejected. She knew as long as they did as they were told they wouldn’t be beaten or killed. The men seemed after companionship, and on a certain level some recognized the need for a small amount of acceptance. She had the distinct impression they wanted more willing partners, why else had they not entertained force sooner? They might even give them a certain amount of time, time Tansy needed to devise a plan to get her girls and her away. Her thoughts danced within her mind, she realized she needed to bide her time and think of Shane.

“All right,” Tansy conceded, “we’ll accept your offer.” Her hand stilled Shanie’s outraged look. “But we need time. We don’t know you. You killed a friend. We’re all afraid of you.” She said this as humbly as she could, without choking on her words, the bile burning and building within her throat.

Nodding, Cord looked to his partners in triumph; he’d won, he always won. Clint wasn’t so sure, he’d seen quiet acceptance once before from Annie and it led to no good. He’d best keep a close eye on them.

* * * *

Tansy and her girls slept fitfully that night. The men had given them more food and though Tansy could see Shanie’s determined look to throw it back in their faces, she once more stilled her hand. There remained a lump in Tansy’s throat at the loss of their friends, but starving themselves wouldn’t aid in their escape, she needed to think of her children. She had promised Shane she would keep them safe—so far she’d honored that promise. Whatever it took. It didn’t mean she had to like the situation.

Clint had produced another pack of Life Savers making Michaela’s eyes light up. Tansy told her girls they needed to get some sleep. Shanie in particular was emotionally drained, her rage having given in to tears, and she wept for hours until her eyes were red and swollen and her breathing labored.

Michaela asked for Chris to tell her a story, he’d been so good at that, spinning wonderful tales of gnomes and goblins for the child who sat with wide-eyed rapture, hanging onto his every word. She didn’t understand he was gone, and Tansy tried to explain he wouldn’t be back, with little luck. Michaela finally toddled off to Clint to ask for more candy. At Emmy’s concern Tansy reasoned none had seemed inclined to hurt the child. Tansy felt if one tried Clint would defend her, having developed an affinity with her. She also knew the only life threatened so far had been hers, by Cord’s insinuations and manipulative skills. After Emmy and Shanie’s altercation with Cord resulting in ultimatums, Tansy understood none of the men considered her children or her any type of danger. Cord was counting on his sex and size to coerce obedience. For now, Tansy knew they would grudgingly comply.

Clint picked Michaela up and returned her to her mother; he knelt beside Tansy and promised they would be left alone for the night. Scowling, Tansy informed him they might be more receptive if a great deal of communication was forthcoming and remarked on their lack of hygiene. She knew she and the girls weren’t roses, yet they tried to maintain some degree of cleanliness.

Clint wandered off and gave an unobtrusive sniff to his armpit. He had to agree, if he were a woman he wouldn’t want him within ten feet. Most days he didn’t want Cord or Randy within twenty feet. Feeling a bit chagrined the women found him odorous or repulsive, Clint dragged his feet back to the other men.

“Do I smell?” Clint asked, a little embarrassed.

“Well duh, moron,” Randy remarked.

“Well, farmer Jamieson’s pig smelled betterin’ you.”

“What do you care anyway?” Cord asked.

“Well maybe one a the female persuasion said somethin’,” he answered evasively, he could remember his Granny saying that, ‘female persuasion,’ a lot when she was gossiping.

“Well the ‘female persuasion,’” Cord punctuated. “Should talk. If we close our eyes it might smell like we’re screwing old Jamieson’s pig.”

They all sat around miserably with their thoughts. Cord especially. He hadn’t meant to kill the boy; he’d never struck a child before. He realized too late a solid blow of any kind from a two hundred and eighty pound man would have done serious damage even if the boy was big. He’d been too eager to exercise his dominance. For months they acted on their own wants until it seemed commonplace, uncaring of the consequences when there were none. There was no one to stop them. That he actually killed someone was unnerving, knowing there wouldn’t be consequences was somehow intriguing, yet unsettling.

When Cord had placed the boy’s body outside, he made certain he and his mother lay side by side in an alcove protected by the wind and not callously dumped. Cord was battling a crossroad and wondered where exactly it would take him and all of them. One thought was certain; he never wanted to strike another child again.

“Do you think they’ll hate us forever?” Clint asked.

Cord looked at his friend and noticed his eyes were centered on the other fire. His gaze in particular settled on Tansy. She lay with her back to them.

“Hell no, after all, you saved them from starving. We all know how desperate Tansy must have been to get the food for her kids; we all seen it, and they’re still taking it. You saved the woman from freezing to death. Michaela already thinks you’re some kind of hero, she likes you. I’ll bet you remind her of her own daddy.”

Cord couldn’t have said better words. Now smiling, Clint agreed with that; he’d never seen a child react so openly to praise, a kind word and candy. He had to admit the Life Savers had been just that, Life Savers. Holding the child felt like holding his daughter. If he closed his eyes he could pretend they were one and the same. He loved being a father, his daughter’s adoration, unconditional love. The way she looked up to him, knowing he could make any hurt all better. He loved how powerful he felt holding someone so tiny. Perhaps in time, with the caring and gentleness that his Annie had so loved, Tansy would let him get closer to her and Michaela. That meant he’d need to watch her, protect her.

“So what do we do with them? Draw straws, or we could be a little nice and let them decide which one of us they want,” Randy said. He didn’t mind who he got or a small wait, but he was never good with diplomacy. All the girls he’d known were either just as eager or had no choice. Not that these ones had any choice, but if they were given a little time to get accustomed to them it would be better, eager was always better.

“Well now,” Cord began, but was cut off.

“You two do what you like, but I want Michaela and her mother,” Clint said, fiercely protective with his thoughts.

“Maybe you best remember Michaela isn’t Tansy’s only child,” Cord began. “She’ll defend all of them equally; are you gonna be able to control her? Look, Clint, I know you miss Annie and Bess, but they’re not them. Things might get a bit...hectic around here at times; are you gonna be able to put your foot down with the other two and not let her interfere?”

“If’n I have to.”

“Not if, buddy, it will happen. Most likely it will happen a lot.”

“Jist what are you sayin’?” Clint asked.

“I’m just saying Tansy may need a firmer hand.”

“Whose? Yours?”

“Not necessarily mine, maybe between us both we could...”

“Dirty bastard, you wanna break her like you done broke your horse.”

Clint remembered the beautiful bay mare Cord had gotten for his thirteenth birthday. She was high spirited and sent Cord flying more often than he would admit. Cord got it in his head to break her. He had all three take turns running the mare until the sweat ran in rivers off all of them, including the mare. Cord had felt victorious as the mare hung her head tiredly, winded and definitely broken. After, Clint thought the light in her eyes was extinguished; she no longer held her head high or seemed a proud beauty. Her spirit was gone and with it Cord’s interest, he sold her six months later and bought a dirt bike.

“No, not break her,” Cord defended. “I just think she might not be open at having her middle daughter subjected to a man’s needs, she’s too young.”

“And you think she’ll jist offer over her oldest?”

“Well, if you want my opinion,” Randy said.

“No,” both men yelled and resumed arguing.

“Why don’t we jist let her decide?” Clint knew he stood a better chance. When cleaned up he was presentable. Standing at a shade under six foot five, he had a good physique and was well muscled, plus he hadn’t killed one of their friends.

“It’s not a contest,” Cord yelled.

“Do you mind?”

Both men turned to stare as the object of their discussion glared at the both of them across the gloomy light. Tansy was propped up on one elbow facing them.

“Do you think you could have a contest on who could be the quietest?”

Clint could’ve sworn he heard her mutter something under her breath just by the way her shoulders heaved. Feeling a bit ridiculous, the two men settled back thinking. They hadn’t fought over a girl since the eighth grade. Back then both ended it by getting a cold drink and a Kleenex for their bloody noses. Cord was a few inches taller and built a bit bigger, but Clint had a ferocious temper and a passion for the vulnerable. The girl had definitely seemed vulnerable to Clint. His granny, who had raised him, tried to teach him to protect the weak, never harm a woman whether she deserved it or not, and most importantly women liked men who brushed their teeth and washed behind their ears. Come to think of it, granny always seemed a bit eccentric, Clint mused.

* * * *

Cord scowled at the frown on Clint’s face, having no idea what he was thinking. Most times Cord didn’t care or want to know what Clint was thinking, as he often appeared one French fry short of a Happy Meal. But right now he wanted to know. Especially if he was thinking up a way to make Cord look worse and Clint look good. Cord knew Tansy would offer more of a challenge. He enjoyed a challenge. She seemed the most defiant and he knew she’d go to extremes to protect her girls, he knew he could manipulate her fears.

Cord lay back with his hands tucked behind his head. Why the hell should he care anyway? He could do what he wanted to any of them at any given time. Why was it any different? Letting his mind wander, his thoughts centered on Clint and Annie. During the beginning of the storms she had stuck with Clint as though they were one entity. When the shock of what was occurring all around them became apparent, the three men had banded together with Annie and Bess. To her credit, Annie tried to remain strong, tried to be helpful. But she had been such a timid thing, close to tears often, always afraid.

When it became apparent the cellar they were hiding in would eventually collapse and Cord ordered they move out, she had sobbed hysterically, not wanting to stray from their home into the unknown with a small child and the storms so violent and unpredictable. She argued they were safer if they stayed put, instead of venturing out. She had seen the bodies of neighbors. Though Cord lost his patience with her, Clint remained caring and understanding. He held her and soothed her fears, taking the time to explain Cord’s reasoning.

Annie trusted his word and followed him anywhere he asked. Her love for Clint was strong until the end. Cord could see it in the way she looked at his friend, their tenderness and companionship. Then he remembered Clint’s anguish at finding his wife and daughter dead, the pain almost destroyed Clint. The small message of ‘I love you’ written in a shaky hand with blackened charcoal on the floor beside their bodies was a sight even Cord would be hard pressed to forget.

Both mother and child lay wrapped in one of Clint’s shirts, wanting him near, his comfort even in death, especially in death. They buried the two the way they had found them, cuddled to one another in Clint’s shirt, Bess’ doll clutched within her tiny arms, Bess clutched in Annie’s. Clint’s pain was greater than Cord had ever witnessed, or wanted to witness again. Was it worth it, the devastation of losing something so cherished and yet...Clint seemed to covet it again. Maybe Cord was missing something important. For all the intelligence he kept reminding himself he had, maybe there was more to what Clint had and now wanted again. Maybe he should find out more, it could prove entertaining if not interesting.

* * * *

The morning dawned bright and clear. Tansy stood staring out the door wistfully. Everything was such a beautiful white it brought tears to her eyes. The sun that seemed always so elusive was caught playing peek-a-boo through the haze. Its valiant effort brought a slight smile to her worried lips. Tansy had come to collect snow with an offer of help, from Cord no less. Apprehensive at first, Tansy asked him if he meant to hurt her. Her eyes searched his for any hint of malice, but he seemed in a fine mood and intent only on assisting her.

Tansy’s thoughts were interrupted as a snowball exploded onto her chest up into her face. She howled and spun around looking for the culprit. Cord stood a fair distance away looking pleased, a grin of satisfaction at her disheveled expression plastered to his face. Tansy tried to beat a hasty retreat but another snowball caught her in the back, she turned in time for yet another to explode on her shoulder.

“No fair.”

“Look,” Cord said, his arms held wide, “I’m unarmed.”

“Only in a battle of wits,” Tansy retorted.

Growling and raising his hands above his head Cord advanced. Tansy was certain he’d gone nuts. She was shaking her head in indecision when she saw it. Tansy looked hard, blinked, and looked hard again. She screamed. Real terror contorted her face.

Confused, Cord looked at her, dropping his arms, wondering for a moment if she really thought he was about to hurt her. Cord had been trying his best to be playful, didn’t women like that? But looking at her expression she certainly didn’t seem to appreciate his effort.