After leaving the highway and checking to make sure that they weren’t being followed, Tre led Lora to the usual spot, where he paused to inspect the Tangle through his binoculars. There was no smoke, no movement, and no signs of habitation.
Thus encouraged, he rode down and directly into the barn, something he’d never had reason to do before. Part of the roof had fallen in, and there were places where siding had been ripped off for use in Tre’s tunnel, but enough of the structure remained to keep the horses hidden. “We’ll leave them saddled for the moment,” Tre said. “Then, if everything is okay, we’ll come back and take care of them. Bring your pistols, but leave everything else here.”
From there Tre led Lora down to the gently flowing creek. The rubber boots were still where he had left them. They were far too large for Lora but kept her feet dry as she followed him downstream to the waiting pool. The foliage around the tunnel entrance appeared to be undisturbed. So Tre pushed his way inside, crawled through the tunnel, and pushed the door open. His pistol was ready, but there was no need. It was pitch-black inside. Tre knew where the matches were and lit one. Then, as he had so many times before, he circled the room, lighting candles as he went.
Laura crawled into the room and stood. As Tre lit candles, various corners of the room were revealed, and by looking around, Lora could see various aspects of Tre’s character. Everything was neat and tidy. The bed that stood against one wall was made. A box filled with firewood sat next to the stove. Tre opened a door, and as he put a match to the waiting tinder, flames appeared.
Lora could see a kitchen sink as well, a homey reading nook, and shelves loaded with books. It was easy to imagine the snow flying outside while Tre lived other lives through the stories he read. Tre stood and looked at her. “I know it isn’t very fancy,” he said self-consciously, “but it’s safe. Or as safe as anything can be these days.”
“I think it’s beautiful,” Lora said honestly. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”
The pleasure Tre felt was plain to see, as was the boy inside the man, and that was very endearing. “I’ll tell you what,” Tre said as he put a kettle of water on to boil. “I’ll go out and take care of the horses. Meanwhile, if you want to, feel free to take a bath.”
That was when Lora noticed the tub. She pointed. “How did you get that in here?”
“It was here when I moved in,” Tre answered. “See the lever? Pump that to bring water up from the pool. But not too much, unless you like cold baths. Then, once it starts to boil, add all the water from the kettle.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Lora said appreciatively. She was filthy and well aware of how she smelled.
“You can find clean clothes in the back,” Tre said. “They’ll be too large, but maybe you can cut them down.”
“And the commode?”
“It works,” Tre said proudly. “See the bucket of water? Pour that in the tank after you flush. Then it will be ready for next time.”
With that, Lora was left to her own devices. She pumped some water into the tub, then checked the kettle, but saw that the water hadn’t begun to boil yet. So she went to the back of the room, chose some clothes, and took them over to a neatly organized worktable. With scissors in hand, Lora was snipping away when she heard a plaintive meow and looked down to see a black-and-white cat. “What’s your name?” she inquired as she scratched the animal behind the ears. He purred loudly—and Lora smiled.
Having taken care of the horses, Tre returned to the Tangle. The tack was hidden under the floor of the barn, but he brought everything else with him. It was dark by then, but an occasional blip from a squeeze light was enough to find his way. He pushed the gear up the tunnel in front of him and took a moment to announce his presence before entering the basement. “I’m back… Is it okay to come in?”
“Yes,” Lora answered. “I had a wonderful bath, thanks to you.”
Tre pushed the gear into the room and stood. The sleeves were rolled up on the shirt Lora had chosen to wear, and it was tied at the waist. A pair of baggy jeans completed the outfit. He saw that the legs had been shortened and rolled up as well. The slippers were too big for her. She did a turn. “So what do you think? Am I ready for the ball?”
Tre laughed. He’d never been anywhere near a ball, but had read about them in books. “You look beautiful.” Then, fearful that she would think he was coming on to her, he rephrased it. “I mean you look good,” he said awkwardly.
Lora laughed. “Don’t worry, Tre… Girls like compliments. Even if they’re exaggerated.”
Tre nodded soberly. Dealing with girls, especially this girl, was scary business. He didn’t want to screw up. But she was beautiful. And he wanted to stare. “I’ll make dinner,” he said. “Then we can talk.”
Dinner consisted of canned stew for them and condensed milk for Ninja. For dessert Tre made drinks from his hoard of Nestlé hot cocoa mix. Simple though the meal was, Lora knew it was one she would never forget.
Then, with Ninja on her lap and Tre listening intently, Lora told the entire story, starting with her departure from the Sanctuary and ending with the fight in the hole. There was only one chair, so they were using the bed as a couch. She cried at times, especially when it came to her father’s death, and Tre put an arm around her.
Then it was his turn, and as Lora listened to the matter-of-fact way that he described his mother’s death and everything that followed, she felt the pain he refused to show. Later, when he described the loss of his finger, she kissed the injured hand.
Finally, when all the stories had been told, they lay side by side and Tre fell asleep. Lora listened to him breathe, felt Ninja settle into the canyon between them, and felt thankful to be alive. Somehow, in a way she’d never felt before, Lora was home.
Chapter Fourteen
The Deacon screamed as the hot iron touched his open wound. He was hanging upside down in the barn where Voss’s personal horses, tack, and wagons were kept. Voss was seated on a chair not five feet away. The tip of his cigar glowed as he drew on it. The expedition had been costly but qualified as a success. Thanks to Afton’s militia and his artillery, Hashi had been forced to flee south with her tail between her legs. And, had Voss been able to field all his mercenaries, he might have been able to capture some of her windmills. So there was reason to celebrate. Or should have been.
Unfortunately, he had returned to find that one of his canneries had been looted and his home had been attacked—not for the purpose of stealing his wealth, because there had been no attempt to open the strong room in the basement, but in order to free Sara. And why? Because her brother was a bandit—that was why. The same bandit who had attacked one of his convoys and captured a garbage mine. A man named Crow.
Crow and his gang had a hideout up in the mountains. Everyone agreed on that. But where? Efforts to find the place had been fruitless. But now, with a bona fide gang member hanging upside down in front of him, Voss stood a good chance of finding out. The thought pleased him, and he blew a smoke ring to celebrate. “So,” he said. “You’re going to die, Deacon… You know that. But how long will it take? A day? A week? It’s up to you.”