Gone to Ground (23 page)

26

The coolness of the thick-walled house was a welcome relief after the scorching day outside. Mark paused briefly to allow his eyes to adjust to the light bef
ore releasing Lindy’s hand and making his way to the bookshelves that flanked the fireplace at the right side of the big room.

Lindy, still apparently insulted by her incarceration in the barn, plopped herself down on the cool stone floor where Mark left her and continued to snuffle and whine. Upset by Lindy’s distress, Gypsy stood in front of her and vigorously began to wash the tears and snot from her face with a warm, wet tongue. Lindy began to giggle, and reached out to grab Gypsy’s white ruff in both hands.

Glancing over his shoulder at the two sitting in front of the door, Mark assured himself that Gypsy had everything under control then turned back to the task at hand. When they’d arrived at Hideaway, they’d found a number of books and magazines left on the shelves, presumably for the entertainment of anyone who found himself spending time at the camp.

The selection had been eclectic, to say the least, ranging from ancient livestock manuals to a ten-year-old copy of
Modern Bride
. That last one had caused some puzzlement and laughter when it was unearthed amid several old copies of the
Stockman’s Journal
. His mother maintained that some cowboy had kidnaped it from his girlfriend in the interest of self-defense, while Mark insisted that a cowgirl had brought it with her on a visit. O’Reilly had looked briefly at the magazine, then turned away with a slight smile and declined to voice an opinion as to how it came to be at the camp.

Mark yanked books off the shelves, looking quickly through anything that mentioned cattle, but quickly became frustrated. Many of the books were from the middle of the last century, and in none of the indexes could he find anything about calving. The magazines proved to be an even bigger challenge, since each had many articles, and none of them had indexes.

He looked out the window toward the barn, stamping his foot in impatience at his difficulties.

This is stupid,
he thought. “I’m never going to find anything in all this mess.”

He turned to throw several magazines on the table behind him, his agitation causing him to use more strength than he intended. The magazines cascaded across the table, fetching up against his mother’s computer. She’d taken to writing every morning and evening, using the solar charger to replenish the batteries during the day.

“Too bad she doesn’t have a program on cows. Then I could just do a s...” his sentence trailed off as an idea blasted into his mind, stunning him with the simplicity of it. 
A search! Google calving problems!
“Yeah!”

Mark hit the table in excitement, causing Lindy, who was busy wrestling with Gypsy, to turn and look at him quizzically, uttering a confused string of sounds that probably meant “Excuse me, was there something you needed?”

Mark hurried around the table to the computer, raised its cover and pressed the power button. The computer hummed quietly to life, flashing up the screen with the picture of him and his dad taken at Christmas two years ago. Looking quickly over the icons, Mark clicked on the browser and waited for the familiar screen to pop to life.

NO CONNECTION DETECTED. CHECK INTERNET CONNECTION AND RETRY.

What the heck does that mean?
Mark examined the computer. Maybe he couldn’t get the Internet down here in this canyon. Then it struck him. The card. The satellite card his mother had shown him. He remembered how tickled she was when she’d gotten it.

“With this little card, I can get on the Web anywhere in the world. See, it just goes in this slot here,” she demonstrated, “and hey presto, I’m ready to go. Way better than the old cellular technology.”

Mark turned the computer around and looked at the slot in the side where the card was supposed to go. Nothing. She had to have it here somewhere. He ducked under the table where the computer bag sat, and began rifling through the pockets. There it was, in its little plastic case.

He was so excited that he nearly dropped it, scared to death that he would break it before he could get it installed. In fact, the first time he tried to slide it into the slot, it refused to budge. He pulled it back out again, and stared at it. There were little gold wires, and a notched corner. The wires had to be what went into the computer. Maybe he’d had it upside down.

Hands shaking with nervous tension, he turned the card over and tried it in the slot again. This time it slid in perfectly and the computer emitted a soft
ping
as it recognized the new hardware. Mark waited for it to say the hardware was installed and working, then clicked on the Internet browser icon again, holding his breath until the familiar window appeared on the screen.

“Oh, yeah, now we’re getting somewhere,” he said softly as he waited for the popular search engine to finish its download. His hands found the keyboard and he was ready to type in his search when a second window appeared in front of the familiar Google logo.

UNREGISTERED DEVICE DETECTED. PLEASE TYPE IN USER NAME AND AUTHORIZATION CODE.

Two small windows appeared below, one labeled user name and the other authorization code, followed by a small timer, counting down from 60. Puzzled, Mark tried typing his mother’s name, and the password that she’d used on the computer at home; his and his father’s names. Nothing. The clock continued counting down. Mark sat staring at the computer, feeling his stomach sink. He wouldn’t be able to search for how to deliver a calf unless he knew the user name and password.

Sighing, he turned from the computer and headed for the front door. He’d have to waste the time going back down to the barn and ask his mother for her information before he could log in. Grabbing Lindy by the hand, he ran back out the door and hurried toward the barn.

He found his mother in the pens behind the barn, dirty and disheveled. A large smear of manure crossed her left cheekbone and there was a fresh tear in the knee of her jeans. The look on her face would have set fire to an ice cube, if such a thing had been present on this broiling day.

Emily, on the other hand, looked to be completely in control of herself, standing in the alleyway, facing his mother. Apparently she hadn’t felt like cooperating with the chute plan. It took Mark a moment to realize that lying behind her was a large black and white calf, liberally smeared with manure, blood and other muck.

“She had the calf!”

“Yes, she certainly did.” his mother replied, through gritted teeth. “I think that all the running and turning and twisting shook it out of her.”

Emily turned to nuzzle the calf, licking it vigorously and emitting several low humming moans, then turned back toward the humans, pawed the ground and shook her head at them, making it clear that she wanted absolutely no more help from either of them.

“That’s so great,” Mark said, temporarily forgetting his mission. “The calf’s so cute. Is it a boy or a girl.” He struggled to keep his hold on Lindy who’d just noticed the calf and was determined to climb through the fence to see it.

“I haven’t asked,” his mother said, taking a deep breath and starting to back away from the pair. “Keep an eye on them for me will you? I’m going to open the gate and let Emily leave in her own sweet time. If she moves toward me, yell.”

“Emily wouldn’t do that, would you girl,” Mark crooned to the cow, who continued to give the both of them the evil eye indiscriminately.

“Emily would grind me into the ground and tap dance on my skull given half a chance right now, and I’d probably do the same for her if the opportunity arose in the near future. We are not exactly seeing eye to eye on a few issues.”

His mother limped to the gate and fiddled with the tangled chain for a few moments, casting uneasy looks back over her shoulder. Finally the tangle gave in and she was able to open the rusty green metal panel. Pushing it wide she used a piece of rope hanging on the fence to secure the gate so that it wouldn’t swing shut again, and trap the cow and her calf. Finished, she made her way over to the main gate where Mark met her, Lindy in tow.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter now, but were you able to find anything on delivering calves?” A tired smile drifted across her face. “I don’t think ‘run and yell’ is an approved method.”

“I couldn’t find anything in any of the books, so I got on the computer but it wouldn’t let me log onto the Internet. It says it wants your user name and password, so I was just coming to get them. I didn’t know you’d put a protection on the Internet hookup? I...”

His mother came to an abrupt stop and was staring at him with a look of horror on her face.

“You tried to go on the Internet? With my laptop?”

“Yeah,” Mark said, confused by his mother’s sudden change in mood. “I was going to Google how to deliver...”

Mark found himself talking to thin air as his mother whirled and ran toward the house. Burdened by Lindy, who wanted to stay and see the baby calf, Mark hurried after her as quickly as possible. By the time he reached the house, his mother was already standing at the computer, typing on the keyboard agitatedly.

“It’s frozen, I can’t shut it down. Nothing is working.” Maggie’s voice was tinged with an emotion that Mark had never heard before, but which caused his stomach to clench in fear.

“I don’t get it, Mom. What’s wrong?”

“If they get a fix on the computer they can track us down using the satellite connection. We’ve got to shut down the computer now!”

“Who...”

“The people who want us in an APZ. The government. It doesn’t matter who.” She continued to try different keys to no avail.

“How about the card, Mom. The satellite card. Pull it out of the computer and it won’t be...”

“Genius.” his mother exclaimed before Mark had even completed his sentence. Reaching for the card where it projected from the side of the computer she pulled. It stuck for a second, then pulled free with a soft click. The computer emitted a soft two-tone
ping
and the screen reverted to its normal appearance.

She sat for a moment, staring at the image of Mark and his father. She seemed to be barely breathing and Mark felt his heart begin to race even faster. Something was wrong. Something was really, totally and completely wrong, and he’d caused it. Just when he thought he’d explode, his mother took a deep breath, and turned from the computer to face him where he stood in the doorway, holding Lindy’s hand.

“We’ve got to talk, kiddo. There are some things that O’Reilly has told me that I didn’t think important for you to know. I think now maybe they are.” She indicated the chair next to her at the table.

Closing the door and releasing Lindy’s hand, Mark moved to the chair she’d pointed at and took a seat facing her.

27

It had been a good day, O’Reilly thought as he finished tying the l
ast pack on his horses, a really good day.

Just as he’d planned, he’d pulled into Wikieup early that morning. Tying the horses in a sheltered wash a short distance from town, he spent some time scouting the area, making sure that no one was in residence, either ghosts or an annihilation team. The town had the eerie, abandoned feeling of the old time ghost towns. Tumbleweeds had blown into the street and had not been cleared away. Mud, washed down from the previous week’s rains, lay thick in the roadways, with no tire tracks to mar the surface. It was strange and sad to think of an entire world covered by these modern ghost towns, but that was the legacy of the disease.

After he satisfied himself that nothing inhabited Wikieup except for birds, rodents and coyotes, he made his way through the empty streets toward what passed as the commercial section of the small town. Several times on his solitary journey he turned away from pens that had once housed horses and cattle, but now only housed rotting carcasses. Carrion birds, never before so well fed were reluctant to fly off at the sight of a single human.

Dogs had also been left behind at some houses, as, he was sure, were cats. The difference was that the cats weren’t to be seen. However, he caught sight of several dogs skulking between the houses, sharp ribbed. A couple approached him on his walk, but never came close enough for him to touch. He felt a pang at seeing these abandoned animals reduced to this level, but he knew there was nothing he could do for them. Either they would learn to hunt and join their wild cousins, the coyotes, or they would become food for others that were more able to adapt. It was the way of the wild. Those that were capable, would heed the call of their ancestors and would succeed. Those for whom a life lived on the coat tails of humans had become too completely ingrained, would fail.

Only one dog tempted him, making him smile, rather than frown. As he was passing a small, blue double wide trailer, surrounded by roses and bird baths, a loud, high pitched barking assaulted his ears. Turning he saw a small brown and tan long haired Chihuahua come tearing down the front walkway, apparently intent on tearing him limb from limb. This was one little dog that was giving no quarter in the fight to survive.

If, in time, the surviving dogs in communities such as this were to join packs of coyotes and wolves, then the resulting breed of wild canine was certainly going to take on some interesting features. The image of this little spitfire running through the desert in the company of a pack of coyotes was certainly one that made him smile. He figured that the coyotes would eat it first, but the little dog sure wasn’t going to make it easy on them.

Wikieup hadn’t been on his route while a deputy, but it fit the pattern of a number of other small western towns and he quickly found his way to what might generously be referred to as the center of commerce. He wasn’t expecting much, and wasn’t disappointed. People living in Wikieup who wanted to do some serious shopping obviously traveled the distance to Kingman to the north, or Wickenburg to the south. There were, however, several small stores catering to the people traveling from I-40 down to Phoenix who found themselves sitting in the middle of the desert, needing a few extra supplies.

Looking around at the empty buildings, he realized that this might be his last chance to visit this town. Surely the annihilation teams wouldn’t bypass this place much longer. He’d planned to return and collect the horses as soon as he’d verified that the area was safe, but looking at the buildings, still snugly locked up and filled with goods, as though the owners would return the next morning, he recognized an opportunity that might not present itself again.

Returning the way he came, he quickly reached the outskirts of town where he’d noticed a large beat-up mud brown diesel pickup with a sleeper cab hooked to a rusty 32-foot gooseneck stock trailer. He checked the ignition, but found it empty. Thinking back to all his years on the ranch, he quickly checked under the seat, then under the floor mats. Sure enough, the key, hanging on a silver ring with a braided horse hair fob, was tucked under the back of the driver’s side mat. Just where his father had always left his key.

The next few hours he hurriedly packed everything he thought they might be able to use into the stock trailer, the cab, and the back of the truck. He couldn’t take the trailer back to Hideaway, of course, but he was sure he could drive it out to the sheltered wash where he’d left the horses and leave it there. With the rains coming frequently, his tire tracks should be washed away in a day or two, and it would be sheer bad luck if an annihilation team arrived before then. Several large mesquites growing along the undercut bank should shelter the vehicle from over head watchers, and the odds of anyone venturing out the rough forest road were small. The truck and trailer should be safe there.

His feeling was that even though the annihilation teams hadn’t targeted Wikieup yet, it couldn’t be long before this small town would be wiped off the face of the desert landscape. However, if he could gather enough supplies and get them some place away from town, he could bring the horses back as often as necessary, or even possibly bring Mark with him and drive the truck to the Eagle Camp, while Mark led his horse back.

Using plastic bins, found in one of the stores, he gathered dry goods such as flour, salt, sugar, and rice. He also gathered a number of spices that couldn’t be grown at the camp. A gardening display in the feed store proved to be a treasure trove of seeds for corn, melons and squash, as well as many herbs. A small variety store provided several books on natural remedies, causing O’Reilly to smile at the thought of Maggie using “weeds” to treat illnesses. He double checked to be sure that the book included a recipe on how to prepare horehound.

By the time O’Reilly began loading articles of clothing such as jeans, shirts and jackets, the old gooseneck was filled to the roof bows, and the cab was overflowing. The afternoon was fading fast into evening, and the clouds were lowering. Deciding it was better to get the truck moved before rain made the roads impassible, he drove as quickly as possible out of town, heading the two miles northeast to the base of the steep ridge where he’d left the horses.

The night was spent in comfort in the sleeper cab of the truck, with the horses dozing in the catch pen nearby. The next morning he decided to help himself to one more truck and trailer, quickly finding an old pee-green pickup with the keys under the floor mats and a 16-foot bumper pull horse trailer nearby.

He hit a small hardware store and a tiny drugstore, making one pile to go into the trailer, and another pile that he would load onto the pack horses. By mid morning he’d moved his second truck out to the corrals and parked it next to the first, trusting that the trees would be thick enough to screen the vivid yellow-green truck from view. That was one vehicle you’d never lose in a parking lot.

Gathering the horses, he readied them for a last trip into town. If everything went the way he’d planned, he’d be headed home by afternoon, and within a few days he’d be back at Hideaway. Back with his family. If this trip had done nothing else, it had shown him that he was going to have to deal with his feelings for Maggie, Mark and Lindy.

The memory of Maggie confronting him about his intention to collect ‘fringe benefits’ flashed through his mind. Unfortunately, fringe benefits were exactly what he was wanting right now, but he’d been truthful when he’d told her he didn’t take anything from a woman she didn’t freely want to give. The question was, how to get her to see it his way. He didn’t think she’d fall for the “it’s our responsibility to repopulate the world” line. He didn’t want something that shallow, anyway. He didn’t just want ‘fringe benefits.’ He wanted her whole heart.

Lost in thought, he mounted his horse and led his pack train toward Wikieup.

It didn’t take long to pack the horses, securing all the bundles tightly to the pack saddles. Since there was no way of knowing whether the trucks and trailers would be discovered, O’Reilly had saved the most important items for the horses. He loaded the medicines, most of the seeds, and a portion of the dry goods into the panniers, as well as tying bundles on top of the saddles.

He saved a special spot for three large bags of coffee, figuring that the way things had been going lately, he might need it as a peace offering at some time in the future. For Mark he packed a .22 rifle, as well as ten boxes of ammunition. He also found a large compound bow for himself, and a smaller compound bow and a number of arrows that would fit the boy well. The fact was that their ammunition would only last a limited amount of time. The bows would be what they would need for hunting in the future, and the sooner they learned, the better. It would be wise to save what ammunition they had for emergencies.

Wrapped in plastic and tucked safely into the saddle bag of his horse was a special gift O’Reilly had picked out for Lindy. In addition to medicines and cosmetics, the drugstore had also boasted a large selection of gift items, including many stuffed animals. One caught his eye in particular; a large buckskin horse. When he’d touched it, and felt how soft it was against his work worn hands, he knew that this was exactly the present for Lindy.

The girl had a special attraction to animals, and his big buckskin gelding, Ace, in particular. Ever since that day when he’d brought her home on the pack train, she’d laid claim to his horse. Whenever O’Reilly brought him out, Lindy would come running - or toddling, rather - followed closely by Gypsy, her self-appointed protector.

The toy horse would be a perfect gift for the little girl.

Securing the final bundle, O’Reilly swung up onto Ace, dallied the rope of the pack train around his saddle horn and headed north out of town. The wind was beginning to pick up, blowing from the southeast, and he could see the sullen gray clouds once again building on the horizon, over the mountains. If he pushed it, he might make it half way back to Eagle Camp before the rain caught up with him. He’d have to sleep out tonight, but tomorrow night he should be able to sleep warm in his childhood bedroom. Then, the next night he’d be back at Hideaway and put into motion his plan to capture Maggie’s heart.

Yeah, right,
he snorted.
As smooth as I am, it’s more likely she’ll decide to try her hand at castration
.
Gotta try, though.
He didn’t want to think what would happen if he couldn’t convince her. He couldn’t leave her on her own. Especially not with two young children to take care of. But he wasn’t sure he could continue living in the same house as though he was nothing more than a colleague or maybe a brother. Not the way he was beginning to feel. It would be too hard.

As the horses approached the edge of the town, Ace, threw up his head and let out a whinny, looking intently off to the north west. In the distance another whinny echoed back. O’Reilly pulled the gelding to a stop and looked in the direction the horse indicated.

Nothing.

After a minute the horse relaxed and moved on out of town.

Local horses running loose,
O’Reilly thought to himself.
Pretty soon we’re going to have mustang herds as big as anything that ran the plains in the 1800s. Of course, most ranchers preferred geldings, so when they die out there won’t be any more. But any mares running loose will get bred to any loose stallions. It’ll be survival of the fittest all over again.

O’Reilly made his way out between the last few houses on the edge of town and headed for the forest service road that would lead him back to the trucks and trailers and from there to Eagle Camp and home. Just as he was moving off onto the two rut dirt road he heard another whinny. His horse again threw up its head, answering loudly. O’Reilly looked in the direction of the sound, shading his eyes against the afternoon sun, expecting to see a herd of loose horses.

To his astonishment he was confronted with several riders coming out of the thick desert scrub on the far side of the road. He squinted, trying to get a better look.

What the... They’re kids! What the hell are kids doing out here by themselves?

The last horse, a black and white paint, moved out of the brush into view, the female rider sitting straighter and craning her neck to get a look at him, her brown hair blowing in the newly freshened breeze. O’Reilly began to ride slowly toward the children then stopped, surprise hitting him with the strength of a flash flood.

Christina. That’s Christina!
 

He couldn’t have been more surprised if the skies opened up and it started snowing in July, right then and there. What was Christina Craigson doing here and who were the other children with her? It wasn’t possible. She couldn’t be here. She was in the APZ, sitting in the Nursery, either following the rules, or still sitting in isolation. None of them could be here. They couldn’t have escaped. The chips made sure of that. The chips...

The chips!
His face blanched under his tan. He looked down at his right arm where the small white scar still showed where he’d dug the small grain-of-rice sized microchip from under the skin. Reflexively he looked up into the sky, as if expecting seekers to come from all coordinates, targeting the small group.
They can’t be here without the Enforcers knowing and if they know the kids are here, they’ll find out I’m here as well.

“O’Reilly!” The brown-haired girl was waving her left arm wildly, causing her horse to jitter. Kicking him into a run, she shouldered past the other three children and tore toward O’Reilly, causing the other three horses to toss their heads and jig. In a matter of seconds Christina was rushing up, obviously out of control. The wide-eyed panicked look on her face betrayed her fear as the paint shouldered into Ace, causing him to stagger and the horses of the pack train to spook and run backwards.