“So… I’m tryin’ to wrap my mind around the fact that Amanda’s… truly gone,” said Connor.
“She saved the president; she paid the price,” suggested McLeod. His voice was gentle, probing.
“Yeah, I think she most likely did save her, didn’t she?”
McLeod stared east with the yellow sun rising on an uneventful stay at the Youngstown mill. He and Connor sat near the main camp atop the rusting steel billet in the shipping yard. Each to his own, they sipped a strange hot tea Rhonda had handed them a few minutes ago; liking the taste, McLeod detected a faint aroma of chamomile along with a hint of peppermint.
“I think… I think she’s gone, Mac… we have to face it.”
“Like hell.”
“No… they woulda come by now. Amanda and the president. She knew the plan.”
Connor sipped from the cup, before he splashed the remainder on the ground in anger. “Huh. You know, maybe she’s just outta commission from her injuries. Knocked her ass out, that’s one possibility. Don’t forget, Marty said she went down and they scooped her up.”
“Sure… not likely, Mac, but maybe. But seven days? Going on eight? C’mon, Mac. Even you have to admit things aren’t looking up.”
“I know. I know.”
McLeod caught movement in the main camp to his left, tracking toward BB and Marty. Early risers, they were gathering gear outside their tents with a plan to do some more fishing at the pond near the southeast entrance. Of course, all had heard about the catfish and turtles stealing most of their bait the past few days; both men were intent on some serious revenge. Glancing past the two men, McLeod observed Jason and Jude tending the horses, brushing their coats and occasionally slipping each of the five horses a few handheld treats. Fifty feet to the right of them, in a battered and patched brown tent, Roger was most likely still asleep as was Cody, each bundled in the plump sleeping bags they favored. Indeed, waking those two up early was always a challenge and Rhonda was fairly protective of their morning sleep time, even while she helped prepare the morning meal for the crew.
“We gonna wait the day out, Mac?”
“Your thoughts?”
“We go.”
“Just like that! It’s that easy?”
“Never said it was going to be easy. Not for you. Not for Marty. Not for any of us. You know that.”
“Yeah.”
“It’s simply something that has to be done. And, trust me; I know a little bit about moving on.”
“Hmm.”
“We need to move, Mac. As a team. Have some direction. We’re following you, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
“So, what’s it going to be? Huh? We here for another day?”
“I dunno.”
“Well, I need to know because I have a new basket weaving project I’ve just got to finish.”
“You always this much of a prick, McLeod?”
“No.”
Connor stared at his empty mug. McLeod continued. “Only when it seems necessary.”
“Never did kill that fat rattlesnake for dinner,” mumbled Connor.
“What’s that?”
“Never mind.”
“Okay.”
Connor studied John McLeod, critiquing him deeply. Early in their travels, he’d come to the conclusion that the older man was a hard, yet gentle traveling companion and, surprisingly found he was glad to have him around. Casting a serious eye toward the bleakness of the barren steel yard, he whispered his thoughts. “I’m glad you found us, McLeod.”
“What’s that?”
“I said I’m glad you had the guts to come up on us at that old farmhouse.”
“Ahh, yeah.”
“You’re a great traveling companion.”
“Oh… right.” McLeod took a moment to sip his tea, making an effort to clear his throat; Connor noticed.
“Don’t go all wispy eyed ’cause I said that, McLeod. It just needed said.”
McLeod swiped at his left eye, as if some dust had blown in before squinting hard. They stared toward the main camp and saw Marty and BB stroll up to check in, likely wondering what today might bring.
“Hey Mac. John,” said Marty. His makeshift fishing rod bounced in hand as did BB’s larger version made from a tiny maple sapling.
“Hey.”
“Everything copasetic?”
“Yeah. Sure.”
“For real? ’Cause I’m thinking you two are talking some shit, John.”
“I guess we are, Marty,” said John.
“Uh, huh.”
“Well?”
Connor stepped into the conversation. “We’ll be leaving in four hours, Surf Boy. Alert the crew. Right now, we’re heading to the ’Burgh.”
“Pittsburgh?” asked BB.
“Yeah, Pittsburgh. We’ll need to take a route that avoids making that Geiger counter jump, but we need to move. We spent enough time here waiting.” Connor was all business.
“But, Amanda?”
Connor slipped from the steel billet, standing before Marty and BB. Almost wistfully, he glanced northwest toward Cleveland before his voice became soft. “She didn’t make it, Marty… she’s not coming.”
“Hmm… but—”
“We have to face facts.”
“Aww, man. Don’t do this! Not yet. Let’s wait another day. We have the time—”
“No, Marty. Not that don’t I want to. For real.”
“Aww… man.”
“But we gotta move on from here. No good’s being done. BB?”
“Yeah, sir?”
“Help ’im out for me would you? Take him fishing for a few hours. He’ll need some attention for a bit.”
“Yep.”
“McLeod… let the rest know.”
McLeod slid off the steel to stand near BB, Marty and Connor. Concerned, he looked at each. BB and Marty headed off toward the pond. McLeod began to leave but after a few steps, he stopped and turned. “What about you?’
“Me? What about me, John? I’ll make it. Got no choice at this point. Go on. Let’s leave this mill.”
“Let me know if you need anything.” John turned and walked toward the farmhouse
“Yep.”
CHAPTER 7.7-Finding a Wife
In the early dawn, Terry gently touched the tanned bearskin strung out, curing on the wire frame near the fire pit. Caressing the fur stretched tight, she acknowledged the exceptional softness of the treated fur, noticing that the leather hide was taking on a nice suppleness as it cured. Clearly, Liam was having some expert help in preparing the hide, since it was turning out perfectly, as if a man with twenty or more years experience gave the bearskin an expert treatment. Sipping her spearmint and honey tea, Terry strolled the grounds near the cottage, as was her morning ritual when she had time. Not too far out and not breaching the first perimeter, she enjoyed moving about while most of her clan peacefully slept. Here in the mountains, early autumn came quickly and she already noticed leaves taking on fall colors while the ground cover slowly died off to brown.
“Ahh, fall is coming fast,” she thought. Slipping her Kimber into her gray hoodie pocket, she settled onto her favorite large boulder and, once again, was pleased with the view such access permitted. Taking a full scan of the property near the cottage, she took another sip of tea. And, after a few minutes of contemplation she caught Toby and Kristen coming in from nightwatch. Strolling by, Toby tossed a small, tired wave her way. Kristen, close by his side, seemed almost as exhausted.
“Hey Toby? You happen to know who’s helping Liam prep the bearskin?”
“Nope,” said Toby. He continued toward the cottage, clearly in need of sleep.
“Talk to your new man about that, T,” said Kristen. Not breaking stride, she barely hid a small grin while cruising past.
“Alright.” A pulse of joy seeped into Terry’s thoughts. Maybe Liam was letting go a bit concerning his father. Maybe Connor Mac was shifting more into the past for Liam. And maybe, a future with Andy was feasible. He was certainly the one helping Liam in preparing the bear fur. A wave of pleasure ran freely in her thoughts while she considered the future. Catching movement near the cottage, she found Kevin exiting the back door onto the large deck. He lit his pipe and looked around, spotting Terry. After a moment to fully stoke the pipe, he took an easy stroll in her direction.