Through the Storm(36)

“No.” Wayne shook his head. “They didn’t see me. They’re headed away from our homes.”

Ashley sagged against the wall.

Pastor Wayne smiled at Drake. “Perhaps you should stay here with Ashley.”

Drake’s heart still pounded and his mouth felt dry. He wanted to stay locked in the house, but he didn’t want Pastor Wayne out walking alone. He struggled to find the right thing to do.

“Pastor, what about your family?” Ashley asked. “Will they be safe?”

“I’m not sure safe is a word we can use right now. I told Dan to wait about thirty minutes before hiking into Riverbank. I wanted to make sure Skinny and any others were gone. If there was any trouble after that, I told Mary to fire the shotgun out a window and we’d come running.” He shrugged. “That’s about the best we can do right now.”

Drake shook his head. “We can’t live like this.”

Ashley stared at Drake for a moment. “I’m not sure I could shoot someone, but show me how to fire the shotgun.” She turned to the pastor. “I’ll use it as a signal like you told Mary.”

Drake left and returned with a twenty-gauge shotgun. He showed Ashley how to rack the slide and hold the weapon with the butt pressed against her shoulder.

“The gun is fully loaded, and a shell is in the chamber. The safety is off.” Drake nodded toward a window. “Just point the gun out a window and pull the trigger. We’ll hear it. Skinny and friends will probably scatter before we can run here.”

Pastor Wayne nodded. “But if they don’t leave, pump and shoot again and, if need be, at them.”

Ashley stared at the gun but said nothing.

Seeing her hold the shotgun like it might bite, Drake wanted to stay with her. At the same time, Skinny, Fatty, and the others made him angry. Stay at home and protect the one he loved, or go with Pastor Wayne and help keep everyone safe.

“Are we ready to go?” Pastor Wayne asked.

The honest answer was no, but with a lingering gaze at Ashley, Drake followed Pastor Wayne out the door.

“I told Dan to knock on the doors around our house and others on the way into Riverbank.” Pastor Wayne pointed toward his house. “So, we’ll go in the direction that Skinny and the others went.”

Drake nodded, but he didn’t want to go that way.

The first place they reached was the Hamilton property. The fence on one side of the gate had been cut.

“Nobody was home on Sunday.” Drake explained about the horses breaking out of the pasture and said he had checked the house.

“Let’s check it again.” Pastor Wayne headed toward the porch.

The front door had been pried open, leaving bits of the wood frame littered across the entryway.

“I didn’t do this.” Drake shook his head.

“I didn’t think you had.” The pastor entered with his rifle ready.

The living room looked undisturbed, but all the kitchen cabinets and drawers stood open. Several pots, pans, and some broken glass littered the floor. No food remained in the house.

“Mr. Hamilton used to hunt with Dad, but I’ll bet we don’t find any weapons.”

Pastor Wayne nodded.

They did a quick search. The medicine cabinets in the master bedroom stood open, and the contents littered the sink and floor.

“What are you looking for?”

Pastor Wayne didn’t answer but continued to check rooms. Several minutes later, he said, “There’s no one here. Let’s move on.”

The next home, a farmhouse set back off the road behind some trees, couldn’t be seen from the road.

Together they walked the rutted, dirt driveway. When they rounded a bend, rows of corn, beans, cucumbers, and pumpkins spread out on both sides.

Drake stopped. Behind a pickup truck, a gray-haired man raised a rifle to his shoulder.

“Hey, Michael, Pastor Wayne here.” He waved. “Put the gun down.”

Michael lowered the weapon and plopped a ball cap on his head. He stepped into the clearing. “My eyes must be getting bad, Preacher. Good to see you.” He turned his head. “Annie, Pastor Wayne is here.”

“Your eyes aren’t bad.” Pastor Wayne smiled. “You’re just getting ornery in your old age.”

Michael laughed. “Maybe so.”

With tanned and wrinkled skin, the man seemed to have worked outside all his life. A gray-haired woman hurried from the house. She might have been as old as the man, but her skin had fewer wrinkles.

Pastor Wayne introduced Drake to the couple and then asked if they had seen any prowlers around their place.

“Sure have.” Michael shook his head. “Had to shoot at a couple of them.”

“We’re going to have a meeting at the church this evening at five. I want to set up some sort of neighborhood watch.”

“Great idea, Preacher. I’ll be there.” Michael grinned. “That’ll give Annie a chance to shoot the prowlers.”

After contacting several other families, Drake and Pastor Wayne came to a mailbox with a honey bee painted on the side.

Together they walked along a narrow, dirt driveway lined with six beehives, three on each side of the lane.

Drake froze at the sight of dozens of bees weaving back and forth over the lane.

“Max uses them as insect guard dogs. I’ve learned they won’t bother you if you don’t bother them,”