“How big’s his army?”
“Are you thinking he could help us here?”
“No. Not now—there’s no time.”
“Even if there was time, I’m not sure he’d help.”
“You don’t think so?” asked Connor.
“I don’t know. I shouldn’t say that. I don’t know for sure, but every time I go there, I have the distinct impression the only reason I’m allowed in is because I’m delivering a load of ale.”
“Hmm.”
“You know, he’s got a sweet setup at the Summit Toll Gate, too. He’s got permanent garrisons, one there and one in Addison. Each is on Route 40 and he’s protecting the mountaintop. You know where I’m talking about? Addison, Maryland?”
“Yeah, I do,” answered Connor, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He leaned toward the commander and lowered his voice. “Do you happen to know if any MacMillens are living up on the mountain?”
Del Re studied Connor’s expression and shook his head. “Not that I recall, Mac. I’m guessing that’s where your family is.”
“I dunno, Del.”
“I could ask around, Mac. There’s some people here who visit Nemacolin on a more regular basis.”
“There’s no time for that, Del. Let’s concentrate on getting you guys into your hide-out.” He paused for a second. “Del, do you have any explosives?”
“It’s funny you should mention that.”
“Wow, you have some? That’s great! We’re gonna throw these bastards a little surprise party and try to keep them funneled and moving straight through as best we can. Though, it does mean causing some of our own damage in town, but at least we can control it.”
“I see where you’re heading, Mac. Whatever happens to this place can be fixed. It’s the people I can’t afford to lose.”
“I like your attitude, Del.”
CHAPTER 10.13-Wedding Gifts
“Hey, Andy. How are you, my friend?” asked Brad. He stood at the entrance steps to the Caddyshack Restaurant of the Nemacolin Resort anticipating the arrival of the MacMillen men. Several armed guards at the top of the stairs near the doors observed with casual interest.
“I’m good, Brad. What about you?”
“Never better,” Brad answered, shaking Andy’s hand. He turned to Ryan. “Mad Dog! You’re looking good.”
“I’m feeling pretty good too, Brad. I quit drinking too much of my own beer,” said Ryan, patting his rock-hard abs. He shook hands with Nemacolin’s head of security.
Brad Greencastle had lived at Nemacolin for a while but had only recently secured the promotion to Head of Security. He and Ryan MacMillen had become fast friends during Ryan’s visits to Nemacolin and had shared more than a few beers since the day of his promotion. Whether justified or not, Brad felt it was Ryan’s timely information that had facilitated the removal of Spider, the prior head of security, when Mark Harmon shot him off his horse during his last visit to the MacMillen clan.
Six men from the MacMillen clan stood behind Ryan and Andy and they began divesting themselves of their various weapons, complying with the “no weapons” policy upon entry into the Nemacolin facilities.
“Hold on, guys,” said Brad, stopping the men from giving up their weapons. “The MacMillen clan gets a pass. Keep what you got. Head inside and grab whatever ammo you think you’ll need over the next few days. Don’t be too greedy, boys.”
“Wow, Brad,” said Andy. “Why the change of heart?”
“You guys have apparently earned the right of unlimited access to Nemacolin.”
“Very nice,” said Ryan.
“Yes—I have to admit that I tried talking Mark outta of this, but he told me that I have to start trusting our neighbors.”
“You tried talking him out of it?” asked Andy.
“Yeah, Andy, I admit it, I did. I’m paid to not trust anyone. I admit that your group is probably the trustworthiest group of any I’ve ever run across, but that doesn’t mean that I know all you guys well enough to trust you with live ammo here. Granted, Mark’s known you guys a helluva lot longer than I have—give me a little more time.” He said this all with a grin indicating that he wanted them to understand his perspective and not judge him too harshly for it.
“Okay, Brad,” said Andy. “Thanks for the exemption—I never did like giving up my weapons.”
“Who does, Andy? I was told that you guys are getting full ‘official’ membership status. The actual offer will be made at the wedding ceremony.”
“Well, that’s a cool surprise and we appreciate it,” said Ryan.
“There will be some papers for everyone to sign—a form that stipulates that you’ll agree to be subject to the rules, practices, and penalties when you’re here at Nemacolin. Anyone over the age of sixteen is eligible.”
“What’s it cost?” asked Ryan.
“Nothing, Mad Dog.”
“Good deal.”
“Andy, introduce me to the rest of your guys,” said Brad.
“I think you know Kevin,” said Andy.
Kevin Kowalski offered his hand to Brad and the two men shook. “It’s been about half year since I seen you,” said Kevin.
“You haven’t changed, Kev. It’s nice to see you again.”
“It’s good to see you too, Brad.”
“Have you met Toby?” asked Andy. Toby Geiser approached the two men shyly and Brad stuck out his hand with a smile on his face.
“Hell, yes, I met him,” he said, shaking Toby’s hand. “He almost took my head off with a shot down the third base line last year at our softball game.” Each year the two groups fielded a softball team at Nemacolin’s annual Fourth of July picnic. Last year, Toby had been at bat and Brad had been playing third base, but down the line toward the plate as if he were expecting a bunt. Toby had caught the perfect pitch and drilled it right at Brad’s head. The only thing that had saved Brad was his quick reaction and, despite that, he still ended up with the imprint of a softball on his shoulder and Toby had ended up on second base. Brad hadn’t played in this year’s game—his responsibilities with security were too time-consuming.
“Sorry ’bout that, Brad,” said Toby.
“Don’t worry about it, Toby. It was my own stupid fault for playing too close.”
“Do you know Allen?” asked Andy.
Allen Waltman shook hands with the man.
“Yes, I know him,” Brad told Andy. “He lived here for a couple months.” Allen had stumbled upon Nemacolin a couple years before and had immediately proved himself useful as a carpenter. He had been loaned to the MacMillens when they had sustained wind damage to their roof and he had found that he liked the pace better with the smaller group.
“Of course,” said Andy. “I don’t know why I always forget that.”
“Brad, it’s good to see you,” said Allen.
“Likewise, Allen. They’re not workin’ ya too hard over there, are they?”
“Not nearly as hard as you guys worked me here.”
Brad laughed. “Yeah, that’s probably true. You were our only carpenter at the time. Now we got over a dozen.”
Allen moved on and Cameron Martin came up next. He was a blue-eyed youngster of twenty-six with deep dimples when he smiled which he did nearly every waking moment. Nothing bothered the young man—it was as if he were surprised by his ability to wake up each day and the pleasure that he gained from this simple act sustained him through the day and into the night, despite any obstacles.
He shook hands firmly with Brad, smiling all the while. “My name’s Cameron Martin, Mr. Greencastle. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Cameron, it’s nice to meet you too. Please call me Brad.”
“Yes, sir, I will,” he said enthusiastically.