She continued to look at him and he tried to think of what else she wanted from him. “We haven’t touched it aside from inspecting and cleaning it every month or so, along with a few minor repairs Lewis did like tightening the stock so it doesn’t wobble and smoothing the bolt mechanism. It’s in better condition than when we found it.”
Jane checked the safety and drew the bolt, checking the chamber and the in-built magazine below the bolt assembly that held 7 rounds counting one in the chamber, even going so far as to empty the magazine and inspect the bullets. There had been 5 in there when they got it, all of which seemed to pass her inspection since she quickly loaded them once more and slammed the bolt home, chambering a shell before reengaging the safety.
She seemed familiar with the weapon, which supported her claim that it had been her father’s. Not that he’d doubted her. “It actually looks pretty good,” she said, looking up and meeting his eyes. Trev couldn’t help but notice that they were much more enjoyable to look into when they weren’t narrowed his way. “Thanks.”
“We take care of our equipment,” Trev said, doing his best to make his shrug look nonchalant. “If you want we can carry it in one of the wagons on the trip down.”
In answer she slung it across her back on top of the scoped G3 variant she’d brought with her, borrowed from the town’s storehouse. It was a nicer rifle than her father’s and should’ve been on top for easy access, but Trev supposed familiarity and sentimental value could trump more practical considerations. Or maybe she just hadn’t thought that far ahead.
That seemed to settle the issue for her, because she turned her attention to the aforementioned wagons and raised an eyebrow. She didn’t ask any questions, but Trev felt like he had to explain. “We carved and polished runners to attach to the wagon’s wheels, just in case we had to make a getaway with all our stuff. We can take them off pretty easily once we reach spots with no snow.”
Jane made no comment, and didn’t even excuse herself as she walked over to Matt to ask if they were ready to go. Trev considered trailing along to try to keep the conversation going, but if his friend was right about her social preferences he’d probably just annoy her. That just meant he’d have to take his opportunities to talk to her as they came, without trying to force the issue too much.
In a way the trip down was much easier than the trip up last fall, in spite of the snow. They had more people to help with the wagons on rough stretches, and pulling sleds across snow was a lot smoother than jouncing the wheels over rocks in the road, at least where the powder wasn’t so soft they sunk right in and had to be laboriously dug out or a path tromped down for them. Wherever there was a crust, though, and especially since most of their path was downhill, the sleds were more eager to get where they were going than the people pulling them. The challenge there was keeping them under control.
In any case for the most part they managed a much better pace than they had last fall, possibly even twice as fast, following Matt, Tom, and Jane’s footprints in the snow. Taking turns with the sleds they managed to keep up the pace with fewer rests, going slower than Matt’s group had managed but not markedly so.
That night they cooked up some of the meat from the icehouse on skewers over the fire, tearing into it with great enjoyment as the cold winds blasted around them through the branches of the small copse of evergreens they’d found for their campsite. From the sounds of it venison wasn’t anything unusual for Jane and Tom, but as Matt ate his fill he looked as if he’d died and gone to heaven.
The next morning Trev grumbled loudly as he shivered his way into his winter clothes and ducked out of his tent into the clear, cold predawn glow. Back in the hideout the banked stove didn’t give too much warmth by morning, but at least the reasonably well insulated space always stayed well above freezing, and he only had to suffer the cold for a few minutes as he rekindled the fire and waited for it to heat the small room up.
The others complained too, Lewis for the same reasons he was. Matt’s situation was similar since before this trip he’d also been able to enjoy relatively comfortable mornings, and even Tom and Jane in the Larsons’ house didn’t have to worry about a plunge into the heart of winter the moment they got out of their sleeping bags.
It was a fairly miserable group until they got the fire going again and cooked a bit more of the meat for breakfast. Matt assured them that things would warm up before too long on today’s hike, although the snow would remain all the way to the shelter so they’d have a path for the sleds. With the thought of warmer weather to spur them on they started out and made good time.
Later that afternoon they reached the bottom of Aspen Hill Canyon, making the trip that had taken them a bit over five days in a little under two. Trev supposed the difference lay in having extra people to share the load, as well as carrying a couple hundred less pounds of food and less ammo, some of which they’d used during their live fire practicing. The downhill trek and the sleds definitely did their part too. He might even have been willing to credit some of it to some of the muscle he and Lewis had built in the fall sticking around thanks to consistent exercise.
Before they’d gone too much longer they were greeted by Pete Childress on patrol. The young man excitedly shook hands all around, then radioed in about their arrival and handed the radio over to Matt so he could talk to the Mayor. After a bit of discussion they agreed to meet at the shelter to talk, and they left Pete behind to walk his route as they continued on.
Trev was surprised at how excited he was to be back, and over every hill they dragged the wagons around he craned his neck for his first view of the shelter. He caught sight of the smoke from it first, drifting lazily over the shorter of the two hills that bracketed it. They followed the dirt road around the hill, the same one they’d taken when they left, and there it was.
He paused and turned to grin at his cousin, who grinned back. They were home.
It didn’t feel 100% like home as they approached, mostly because the area in front of the shelter was full of the Larson clan busy at work doing laundry and other cleaning, including the partition curtains and the cots themselves. It was a good guess that when they knew the shelter’s owners were on their way back they decided to do some spring cleaning and try to have the place as nice as when they moved in.
Everyone paused to wave as they arrived, but Sam did more. The dark-haired woman had been up to her elbows in soapsuds, but as soon as she caught sight of her husband she broke away with a happy shout and bolted over to him, throwing her arms around his neck nearly hard enough to knock him off his feet. For his part Matt didn’t seem to mind the suds as he hugged his wife close.
Trev and Lewis had both already been introduced to Sam last fall, but even so Matt introduced her again. She seemed slightly reticent around them, at least until they offered her their heartfelt congratulations on the marriage and subjected Matt to a bit of lighthearted ribbing. After that she seemed to relax, and soon after the rest of Matt’s family arrived to welcome them back.
That welcome included fervent thanks for the use of their shelter and for the cache that had kept them alive that winter, as well as a few uncomfortable apologies about moving into the place without asking. Lewis was quick to give them the same assurances he’d given Matt, although he looked as uncomfortable with the overwhelming show of gratitude as Trev felt.