Chapter Twenty-Five
The valley community reeled in the aftermath of the violence. Five of the six who’d plotted to take over were dead, but what
would they do with Jeremy? He’d refused to kill the women at Carol’s, but he’d hit Darren in the head hard enough that Terry
Morris, the medic, was worried. So far Darren was hanging in, but if he died that was murder. They were all hoping it was
no worse than a concussion, something he could recover from.
Losing Harley hit Ben hard. He’d lost too many men in combat, but Harley had been a civilian, and that made it harder. He’d
never intended to get to know any of the people here, yet here he was, up to his neck in their lives. He’d liked Harley. The
man had been willing to do anything and everything for the community, and he’d paid for that with his life, in the same way
any soldier might.
Living in a world where there was no law had its challenges. No, there still had to be law. Somehow, some way. These people
were his people now. Sela was his, her family was his, her community was his. As bad as it had been driving down the mountain
in the dark when he’d heard gunshots at her store, that was nothing compared to how he’d felt when he’d come through the door
and seen her on the floor, Dietrich aiming a rifle at her. His vision had gone to red mist, and his heart had stopped. He
still wasn’t over the sheer terror of that moment, especially now that he knew Dietrich had kicked her and she was hurt. She
was moving around, but gingerly. He’d been kicked a few times himself, and it was brutal. He wanted to pick her up and hold
her on his lap, just hold her, but after a few minutes of shock she’d gathered herself and taken charge in that quiet but
quickly decisive way she had.
Carol’s house was a mess. Harley had died a bloody death on the front porch, and Lawrence’s brains were all over the living
room. Sela had organized having Carol transported to her own house, where they would all stay until Carol’s house could be
put to rights, which the neighborhood women were taking care of as fast as possible. The big tattooed woman named Carlette
had shown up and was moving furniture like a man, pulling up blood-soaked carpet, packing up personal belongings and hand-carrying
heavy boxes down to Sela’s house. Ben made a note to recruit her for the patrol.
Ted was hanging in, but it didn’t look good. They’d moved him to a house not far from the building where the firefight had
taken place, put him in bed, kept him warm, and dressed his wound. Someone donated a bottle of antibiotics, to try to fight
off infection, but Terry Morris had done a quiet triage and given a small shake of his head. There was no point in wasting
the pills. Ted had lost a lot of blood, he had some severe internal injuries, and they didn’t have the medical facilities
or equipment to treat him.
Mike and Darren were taken to the same house, at least for now, to make it more convenient for Terry to see to their care.
Both men were on cots in the living room, where they slept and grumbled and were coddled by their wives as much as possible.
Darren was in and out, but woke every time they tried to rouse him. Mike’s wound, painful as it was, was much less serious.
Night fell. Dawn came and went. A half dozen people, including the couple who owned the house and had gladly allowed it to
be turned into a field hospital, gathered in the den and waited. Meredith didn’t leave her post beside Ted. She prayed, she
quietly cried. Sometimes Ted roused and said a few words to her, and she held his hand.
When Meredith had to use the bathroom, she asked Sela to take her place watching over Ted. Ben was still not willing to let
her out of his sight for long so he went into the bedroom with her.
Ted’s breathing was laborious, and getting slower. He opened his eyes and frowned in hazy confusion when he looked at Sela.
“Meredith?” he asked, his voice barely audible.
“She’s gone to the bathroom,” Sela said, taking his hand.
He drew a shallow breath, focused on her. “Take care of her,” he whispered. “She’s . . . my heart.”
Sela wanted to say he’d be fine, but couldn’t bring herself to lie to him. Tears stung her eyes. “I will.”
Ben put his hand on her shoulder. He saw death in that bed. God knew he’d seen more than his share, and recognized it. Ted
wouldn’t last another hour.
Ted closed his eyes, drifted off again. Sela sat there, still holding his hand, until Meredith returned and took her place.
She stood and went into Ben’s arms, rested her head on his chest. He wouldn’t swear to it, but he was almost positive she
whispered “I love you” into his shirt.
He walked her out into the dim hallway, lit by a single candle, and once more folded her close. “Move in with me,” he murmured,
resting his chin on the top of her head.
“Okay,” she said without hesitation.
Half an hour later Ted quietly died.
A joint funeral was held for Ted and Harley, the afternoon after Ted died. It was a cold, gray day, with another dusting of
snow on the ground. Trey had built the two coffins, and a handful of local men who hadn’t volunteered in the past dug the
graves at the edge of the cemetery, using nothing more than shovels and their own strength. They were alarmed by what had
happened and had been pretty much shamed into making the decision to become involved.
There was strength in numbers, and they now added themselves to the list to be called on.
Most of the valley community turned out for the funeral. Sela studied the faces in the crowd. Some she knew, many she didn’t,
but almost everyone who’d heard what had happened attended. Many wore black. Most had walked, while a few had used precious
gasoline to drive here. Sela had driven herself, with Barb, Meredith, and Olivia in tow. She couldn’t see either of the older
women handling the walk well.
Meredith had stopped crying a while back, though her eyes were red and she trembled. She had been Ted’s reason for everything
and, imperfect as he was, he had been her center. Barb stood to one side of the new widow. Leigh Kilgore was on the other
side, a steadying hand resting on Meredith’s arm. Harley’s widow had similar support, both physical and emotional.
Carol had insisted on attending the funeral, but Sela and Barb had insisted more urgently that she stay in bed—at Sela’s house,
until the evidence of violence in her own home could be cleared away—and rest. There were too many gentle hills in the cemetery,
too many potential pitfalls. The last thing they needed was for her to take another fall.
As the preacher’s words came to an end, Barb stepped forward and began singing a hymn in her sweet voice, a familiar one most
of the funeral goers would know. People began joining in, their voices rising in the cold air. Sela tried to join in but her
throat was too tight, and she couldn’t get the words out. She reached out, grabbed Ben’s hand. He threaded his fingers through
hers and held on tight. His hand in hers grounded her, and when the time came she was reluctant to let him go.
When the funeral was over, Ben hung back while Sela made the rounds, hugging Meredith as well as Harley’s widow, offering
her condolences and her prayers. Olivia got a big hug, too, many of them, from a lot of different people. She was a kid and
she’d had too many harrowing experiences in the last few days. There was a new look in Olivia’s eyes, an older, fiercer expression.
Death had touched her at a young age, when she lost her parents, and now this.
Ben stayed close behind Sela and the others as they walked toward the car, sharply watching over his . . . well, hell, his
family. They, and Meredith, were crowded into Sela’s small house. No one wanted Meredith to go home alone, to that empty house on
the mountain. It was a nice house, but it was also isolated with all those empty rental cabins in the neighborhood. Ben’s
house was the closest one that was occupied, and wasn’t exactly easy to get to.
Sela fished her keys out of her pocket; Ben reached out and snagged them from her and she gave him a surprised look. “What—?”
“Olivia,” he called, and the girl turned toward him. He tossed the keys to her.
She deftly caught them, her gaze flaring with joy. “Yes!” she hissed, clutching the keys.
“Ben!” Sela said in alarm. “She’s fifteen!”
“Has she had driving lessons?”
“A few. She got her learner’s permit a few months back. But—”
“Think she can handle the short distance to your house?”
“It’s not that far,” she conceded. “And Lord knows there isn’t much traffic.” There were a lot of pedestrians, though, and
she wasn’t sure how much of a danger Olivia would be to them.
“Let her drive. You come home with me.”
Come home with me. That phrase was as tantalizing as the When we have sex that had haunted her for . . . well, hours, before it had actually happened.
“I really should see everyone settled.”
“You really should come home with me and let me take care of you for a while. Olivia can handle the rest. We’ll come down
and check on them tomorrow morning. Promise.”
Olivia had been listening. She spun around and mouthed to Sela, “We’ll be fine. Go!”
Sela nodded, and as the women got into her Honda, Ben lifted her into the passenger side of his truck. She was definitely
sore from Lawrence’s kicks, her side and thigh deeply bruised. Barb had made a couple of poultices that had helped ease the
soreness, but she still felt it.
“The community patrol met this morning,” Ben said as he pulled onto the road.
“I didn’t know. I would’ve been there.”
“You needed your rest,” he grumbled. “We voted on what to do with Jeremy. Tomorrow morning a group of us will escort him a
few miles out and see him on his way. He’ll have a couple bottles of water and some food, but from there he’ll be on his own.
I voted against the food, but I was overruled.”
“Banishment.”
“Yep.”
“A bullet to the head might have been kinder.” She could not imagine being on her own in this world.
“I brought that up, too.” His voice was grim. “If Darren had died there probably would’ve been more votes for execution, but
he’s going to recover.”
Just ahead, Olivia carefully guided Sela’s SUV onto the side road that would take her and her passengers home. She even used
her turn signal. She likely wouldn’t see—Sela hoped she was paying attention to the road instead of watching her rearview
mirror—but Sela gave her a thumbs-up.
“We’ve also decided to block off all the roads coming into the valley,” Ben continued. “That won’t keep everyone out, but
we won’t have anyone driving in once that’s done. And we’re going to set up lookouts.”
She could only imagine a group like Lawrence and his friends with a handful of vehicles, goodness knows how many weapons,
and plenty of gas. The damage they could do would be unimaginable. Access to the valley had to be controlled, because their
lives could depend on it.
Ben turned onto Covemont Lane and they headed home. Home. She hadn’t moved her things there, not yet, but she had no doubt that whatever they had was important, and permanent, and
that his home was now hers.
Maybe it didn’t make much sense, given what had happened in the past few days, but Sela knew she’d be fine. Carol and Olivia
would be fine. Josh would come home when he could, and he’d be fine. They couldn’t know what the coming months would bring,
but with Ben by her side she could do anything.
She had never felt so strong.
He deftly steered the truck over the big rock, then they crested the steep drive and reached the house. “Stay there,” he said,
and came around the truck to lift her out of it.
“I’m okay,” she said mildly. “Sore, but okay.”
“Humor me.”
They went up the steps to the porch, and the spectacular view took her attention. The valley spread out before them. “I should’ve
packed a bag,” she said as she walked the porch to the prime spot where Ben had positioned a couple of chairs. They would
sit here a lot, she imagined.
“Tomorrow,” Ben said. “I have an extra toothbrush and I promise you won’t need pajamas.”
No, she wouldn’t. “What’s the condom count?”
“Zero.” He didn’t sound concerned.
She sure wasn’t.
The valley below looked so peaceful from this vantage point. It wasn’t, not really, and wouldn’t be for some time. They would
have quiet days and days that were not so quiet.
Practical matters intruded on her thoughts. When Carol’s house had been set to rights and she, Olivia, and Barb had moved
back into it, Meredith could stay and live in Sela’s house. She might want a roommate, and it wouldn’t be impossible for her
to move in with Carol, but it would be crowded. That would be up to the women involved, not her decision at all, but she could
certainly offer her house to the new widow. She knew she herself wouldn’t be living there anymore.
Harley’s widow had family in the area, but still, it was only right that others help her out, when and if she needed it. Did
she have heat? Plenty of food? Sela had known Harley a lot better than she knew his wife, but now the widow was on her list
of responsibilities.
The Livingstons hadn’t been at the funeral. That wasn’t reason for concern, but she did want to check on them. Maybe tomorrow,
when she went to her house to collect a few things.
Ben wrapped his arms around her. “What are you planning?” he asked, rubbing his chin against her temple.
“What makes you think I’m planning anything?” She folded her arms over his, burrowing into the heat of his body.
“The expression on your face,” he said. “Besides, you’re always planning something.”
“Not always.” She turned in his arms and looked up, smiling.
He narrowed those laser green eyes at her and pulled her closer. “Turn those skills to planning our wedding. I expect your
crazy aunt will get involved, so be strong.”
Despite the sad day, Sela laughed and tilted her head to kiss the underside of his jaw.
“You’ll have to keep her distracted, Stud Muffin.”