Orphan Maker (32 page)

The audience murmured in pleasure. Loomis looked over at Tommy Boy standing tall a little ways away from her, arms crossed over his chest. He wouldn’t know the first thing about which houses to pick for decent survival materials. “Hey, T.” He looked at her and stepped closer, hunkering down beside her. “Do you trust me?”

He stared at her, eyes narrowing in the faint firelight as he considered her question. Loomis felt Gwen’s hand on her shoulder, caressing. Tommy Boy shot a glance up at Gwen, and Loomis wondered what he saw there. He returned his attention to her and nodded. “Yeah. You ain’t done me wrong since we come to you.”

Loomis smiled, pleased. From him, his trust was a gift of magnitude. “You go with the rest to load up the business district tomorrow. Let me pick your twenty-five houses.” She saw an unreadable flicker in his expression. “I know what kinds of places to look for that’ll get you a good deal. You know I won’t short you—your need is greater than ours.” She cocked her head. “I just want to make sure you have the best start possible.” Her reward was Gwen’s hand easing into her hair at the nape of her neck, and she forced herself not to shiver at the erotic touch.

Tommy Boy frowned in consideration before giving her a grudging nod. “A’ight.” He held out his hand. She shook it, slipping into the gang sign greeting with practiced ease. He stood and walked back to his viewpoint.

Fingers tugged her hair, and Loomis looked up at Gwen. She smiled as Gwen leaned close, closing her eyes as those sweet lips caressed hers in the darkness. Someone sniggered nearby despite the ongoing discussion keeping most everyone’s attention on Walker, and Loomis ignored it. She’d decided that the town had already heard most of her dirty laundry over the years; she’d be damned if she’d hide this. Besides, Weasel’s worsening attitude stirred something inside her. She couldn’t let him think he had any kind of say in her life or her town. Escalating the kiss, she turned slightly and brought a hand up to bury in Gwen’s hair. After several luxurious moments, she pulled away.

“Thank you.” Gwen leaned her forehead against Loomis’s, a whisper touch upon Loomis’s lips.

“Didn’t do it for you, but if this is how I get thanked, I’ll do it again.” She smiled at Gwen’s breathless giggle, getting another quick kiss.

“Marissa Loomis, you just wait until I get you into our tent. I can think of a game or two to play.”

“Promises, promises.” Loomis gave her a final peck before turning back to the meeting. She relaxed into Gwen’s touch, mind far from the sacking of Cascade and Weasel’s menace.

Loomis collected her notebook from the day before and stepped out of the tent. Gwen, Tommy Boy, Kevin and Lucky had all been assigned to a team loading up the hardware store. Most people were already off doing the same, leaving the campsite with the bare minimum of people to keep away roving animals attracted by the smells of food.

Cara looked up from the thermos she filled by the fire. “You want to pack anything with you for lunch, or are you going to check in?”

“Probably check in.” Loomis noted Al Hansen climbing aboard a nag. As he cursed at the animal for not moving fast enough, she turned back to her cousin. “Just to be safe.” She accepted the thermos with a grin of thanks. “I don’t plan on doing any more than a cursory scan, but you know how it is.”

“Where you heading?”

Loomis opened up the map, holding it for Cara to get a look. “I told Tommy I’d be in this area. If I remember right, it was a working-class neighborhood, not summer people. Should be a lot of tools and the like there.”

Cara nodded in agreement. “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind. Don’t make me send a rescue squad after you.”

Snorting, Loomis folded her map, tucking it into her hip pocket. “As if.” She stood, thermos in hand, and walked to Tempest who seemed much happier in a saddle than a yoke.

“Loomis.”

The hesitant tone was unfamiliar coming from Cara. “What?”

Cara pursed her lips, eyes darting around their immediate vicinity. “This thing with Gwen…”

Loomis ducked her head. It had been a long time coming—a whole month—but Cara apparently felt comfortable enough to finally say something about the deepening relationship Gwen and Loomis enjoyed. Loomis finished shoving the thermos into Tempest’s saddlebag. “What about it?”

“Are you sure it’s the right thing? For you, I mean.”

Smiling, Loomis went to Cara, clasping her upper arms. “Sometimes I wonder the same, but I think so.”

Cara grimaced. “But…a woman? Really?”

Loomis laughed. “Ask Annie Faber who and where was her first kiss.” She chuckled at Cara’s befuddled expression, and leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek. Whispering, she said, “Behind the horse barn the summer of Orphan Maker with me.”

She left a stunned Cara and mounted Tempest. “Close that mouth, woman, before the flies get in.” Then she guided her horse out of the encampment.

***

Gwen looked up from the overflowing shopping cart she’d appropriated for her task. She’d been instructed to systematically strip this aisle with a handful of others, and it was about time to unload it into the next available wagon waiting at the front of the hardware store. “I’ll be right back.” She received a nod from the townie nearest her as she pushed the cart toward the front of the store.

The sun was high and bright, making her wince as she shoved the cart over the jamb of the door. A pair of people were lined up in front of her with a wheelbarrow of goods, another before them unloading into the wagon. She gladly waited her turn, enjoying the fresh air and sunshine while she could. Glancing down the street, she saw Tommy Boy at the camping goods store she and Loomis had searched the day before. She smiled and waved, but he didn’t see her. A frown chased away the smile as she spotted Weasel coming up the street. She wondered why he wasn’t working with the rest of them. Even Walker was involved, loading crates of goods from the same store where Gwen toiled. It wasn’t like Weasel had a homestead to be tagging houses for, right? He just had that house in town he’d moved into. Was he planning on starting his own homestead of Gatos? It was a valid possibility, though she hadn’t heard any of her former family discussing it.

Weasel called Tommy Boy, interrupting his re-entry to the camping goods store. The wheelbarrow in front of Gwen moved, and she absently pushed her shopping cart forward, keeping her attention on the meeting across the street. Weasel pulled Tommy Boy away from the others. He seemed angry, unyielding, speaking with the set of jaw that Gwen recognized even at this distance. Tommy Boy was in deep shit with Weasel for some reason, and Gwen had a good idea why. Living with Loomis had made Tommy Boy and his family the enemy in Weasel’s eyes, a traitor. As he took Tommy Boy to task, leaning in to speak as he glared at the taller man, Gwen wondered what he was saying. Whatever it was infuriated Tommy Boy who stood taller, chest out, arms loose at his side in preparation of an attack.
What the hell is going on?

“Hey.”

Gwen turned to see the wheelbarrow had been unloaded, and she was next. She pushed forward and began emptying the shopping cart into waiting hands while trying to keep an eye on the proceedings across the street. In the process, she dropped a handful of tools on someone’s foot, earning a shout and a curse from the man to whom she’d handed them. She silently swore and apologized. By the time she could refocus on the impromptu meeting, Tommy Boy was glaring down the street, and Weasel was out of sight. She left the cart at the store entrance, trotting across the street to catch Tommy Boy before he went back inside. “What’s going on? What did Weasel want?”

He glared down at her, still mad.

“Come on, T! What did he say?”

Tommy Boy’s jaw worked as he stared over her head in thought. He looked back the way Weasel had gone. “He wanted me to arrange an accident.”

Gwen studied him a moment, confused. “An accident?” She felt faint as she comprehended his words. Grabbing his upper arm, she shook him. “For Loomis?”

“Yeah.” He shook his head. “I told him no yesterday. Way I see it, she ain’t done me or mine any harm. Gangsta ways are dead and gone. I don’t owe him nothing.” He spat into the street. “I got to trust her to do me right, and I got to do the same by her.”

She let him go, searching for signs of Weasel on the street. “Where’d he go?”

He turned and pointed. “Left on the corner. I think he’s going to see if he can find her.”

Shit! Would Weasel just want to fight Loomis, or kill her? Who fucking knew? He’d been acting so weird since they’d arrived in Lindsay Crossing. It was anybody’s guess which way he’d jump. He no longer led with an iron fist, didn’t have someone close to ease the loss of no longer being in control. Gwen looked down at the .9mm pistol in Tommy Boy’s waistband. “Give me the gun.”

“Aw, girl. You don’t want to—”

“Give me the damned gun, T!” He handed it over without another word. Gwen popped the magazine, checked the ammunition, reloaded and ensured there was a round in the chamber. “I have to find Loomis.” She paused to look at him. “You can stay here or grab some hands. I know she was planning to head into the southwest part of town today.”

Tommy Boy nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Gwen backed away, still talking as she moved. “Walker’s in the hardware store. Tell him what’s going on.”

“Got it.”

She turned and dashed away, turning left at the corner. She had to find Loomis before Weasel did.

***

Loomis easily kicked the sagging fence down, sliding into the backyard. So far, she’d found three houses for Tommy Boy and one for her homestead. She’d seen two other stead holders in this neighborhood. Time was of the essence. It was a shame only one person was allowed to locate private property per family unit. Terry had an excellent eye when it came to locating just the right sort of house that would yield decent wares. He would have been good to have along. She checked the back door, finding it unlocked, and carefully opened it. The windows were grimy but let in enough light for her to see a good-sized country kitchen. Nodding to herself, she stepped inside, mindful of where she placed her feet. She’d taken a tumble through rotten floorboards in the last place.

Several minutes later, she unlocked the front door and left the house. Reaching into her satchel, she pulled out the neon orange spray paint and shook it with a clatter loud enough to scare sparrows out of a nearby tree. She covered her face as she sprayed “Garcia” across the door, mindful to keep upwind of the worst of the paint fumes. Twenty feet away, Tempest snorted in equal distaste and Loomis grinned back at him. “It’s nasty, isn’t it?” He shook his head, mane flopping, and she laughed. “Come on, fella. Let’s find the next one.”

Tucking the can back into her bag, she retrieved her notebook, jotting down the street address and a brief description and highlight of goods inside. For good measure she marked her map, too. Pushing through the waist-high weeds and grass, she had just reached Tempest when she heard a noise from the next yard over, an animal call. Another bleat followed, high-pitched and fairly loud. It almost sounded like a lamb, but its voice held a harder edge. She took Tempest’s reins and led him to the next front yard. No one had claimed it yet, and whatever it was seemed to be hanging out in the backyard. Another herd of sheep? More stock would be a blessing. Even if Tommy Boy didn’t want to run his own herd, he could get a great deal in barter with the Raymonds, Baxters, or even herself depending on the breed. She found the side fence to the backyard had fallen in disarray, leaving a decent gap between two posts. Slipping through, she noted the trimmed grass. It was a healthy eater, whatever it was. She heard another bleat and movement as she came around the corner.

A smile spread across her face as she stared at a small herd of goats. “Oh, yeah.” There were ten of them, four of them kids. The two billies eyed her while the nannies stuck close to their offspring. Loomis put her hands on her hips, studying their makeshift home. A towering tree stood on the corner of the backyard, its low-hanging unkempt branches affording the goats a natural cavern for protection from the weather. The herd had probably remained within the town limits from habit, eating its way through overgrown yards and gardens as it went. That had saved them from the natural predators in the area. They’d almost decimated this yard and would be moving on to the next soon. Other than the broken section she’d entered through, the wood looked strong enough to keep them here if she repaired it. Getting this herd home wouldn’t be a problem, but she couldn’t do it now. She’d need to come back, bring the cart and a couple of hands to round them up. Leaving them free to roam would mean losing them if they wandered onto another homestead’s property.

Loomis held out her hands, knowing the goats wouldn’t understand her. “Now, don’t get upset, okay? I’m just going to give you guys a little more fodder.” She walked slowly to the property line between this house and the one she’d just left. “It’s gonna be noisy, but you’ll thank me. Really.” With a couple of well-placed kicks, and a pause to block the billies from chasing their charges out of the yard, Loomis opened up a way to a cornucopia of grass for them. “There, see? Fresh food.” Blatting indignantly, the goats trotted into the new territory, eyeing her with suspicion. Again she held up her hands. “That’s it, I promise.” As the herd calmed down, she looked at the garage of this new house. There was bound to be hammer and nails somewhere around here. Fix this fence, go back and repair the other, and they’d be sitting pretty in goat meat and cheese by the end of the year.

Whistling, she strolled back to the front yard almost not seeing Weasel in the tall grass. Her heart raced and she halted. He had only one reason to be out here, and searching for houses wasn’t it. Walker had said he’d moved into his own place, but Lindsay Crossing town dwellers were their own homestead— residents didn’t need to be looking for goods. She didn’t like Weasel’s proximity to Tempest, either. It looked like he’d been going through her saddlebags. Forcing herself to calmness, Loomis lifted a chin. “Hey.”