Of Blood and Bone (Chronicles of The One #2)(111)

“It’s just a precaution. I know they’re not PWs, but I don’t know if they’re friendly.”

“Didn’t you figure that out during one of your midnight rambles?” When she said nothing, he tapped her chin with his finger. “We know where our children are. More or less.”

They went together.

The settlement had once been a small mountain town that ran under a single steep mile from end to end. Before the Doom, the houses, two churches, a single bar, and a tiny general store had been home to less than two hundred people.

Now about eighty made the best of things. No community gardens or greenhouses, Fallon noted, but individual ones. No organized security, either, as she saw no posted guards. Just a few people who stepped out of houses or walked across sloping lawns with long guns.

She heard a baby cry, the mournful lowing of a cow, watched a young boy chase a hen who flapped wildly across the road.

From a distance she heard the quick crack of a bullet.

She looked to her father, knowing strangers would expect the man to take the lead.

“We’re not looking for trouble,” Simon began.

A man stepped forward, a little grimy around the edges despite the lack of beard and close-cropped hair. “What are you looking for?”

“Maybe a chance to stretch our legs for a bit. Simon Swift. My wife, Lana, our daughter, Fallon, our sons, Colin, Travis, and Ethan.”

Smart, Fallon thought. The names made them people and a family.

“Don’t have any supplies to spare.”

“We’re not looking for supplies, either. Are you in charge?”

“Don’t need no in charge.”

“Tim, don’t be such an asshole.” A woman moved up. Wide hips, rawboned face, a mass of graying hair. She wore jeans that carried as many patches as they did the original denim. “Mae Pickett,” she said, and, resting her rifle on her shoulder, offered Simon a hand to shake. “This here’s Tim Shelby. Where y’all from?”

“A few miles south of Cumberland.”

“That so? I had a cousin lived up there. Bobby Morrison.”

“Sorry. I don’t think I know him.”

“Well, he’s likely dead now anyway, and always was an idiot. Those are some fine-looking horses.” She held up her hand. “We don’t steal from strangers here. We ain’t got much to steal back.”

“That works out nice for both of us,” Simon said, making her laugh.

“You’ve got some poison ivy,” Lana commented. Mae reached down to scrub at the rash that ranged angry from wrist to elbows on both arms.

“Yeah, driving me crazy. I didn’t look before I reached.”

“I’ve got something that will help.”

But when Lana started to dismount, Fallon signaled her back. She got off Laoch, walked back to one of the packhorses, and dug out the balm.

She saw Mae’s eyes cut down to the sword, but up again as she approached with the little jar. “It’ll ease the itching,” Fallon told her as she opened the jar, “give you relief, and start the healing.”

She coated Mae’s left arm.

“Praise Jesus, that works quick as a rabbit. First relief I’ve had in a week.” She shifted her rifle, offered her gun arm. “I’m grateful.”

Fallon offered the jar. “Put on another coat tonight. That should do it.”

“Thank you kindly. What do I owe you?”

“Conversation.”

Mae’s eyebrows shot up. “That comes cheap enough. You a doctor, cutie?” Her lips curved as she asked, then sobered when she looked up at Lana. “You a doctor?”

“Healers.”

“There’s a boy lives right over there. About your middle boy’s age, I’d say. He’s been feeling poorly. Maybe you could take a look at him, maybe you got something to help him.”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Tim, you take Miss Lana on over to Sarah’s place so she can see about Pete. Go on now, before I see if she can heal up your sour disposition. Mr. Swift, you can take your horses and boys right over that way, to the shade. We got that old well working a few years back. The water’s clean and cold. Nobody’s going to bother your ladies. I promise you.”

She turned to Fallon. “I owe you a conversation. That’s my porch right there. We can sit a spell.”

“I guess Mr. Shelby doesn’t know you’re in charge.”

Mae let out a bark of laughter that ended on a hoot as she walked Fallon to her porch and the two spindly rockers on it. “He’s not all the way wrong about no in charge. Mostly it’s take care of your own first around here.”

“More hands working together get more done.”

“Won’t say you’re wrong, either. Me and Tim, we lived right here, went to school together. We’re the only ones who didn’t get sick when it came through. Came through so fast we didn’t know we were dying until we were dead. Lost my husband, my ma and pa, too. Didn’t have any kids, and I count that as a blessing now though it caused me grief in my younger days. I don’t know if I could’ve lived burying a child. Anyway, that’s past. You want conversation, so what do you want to talk about?”

“You don’t have any Uncannys in your community.”