Picnic in Someday Valley (Honey Creek #2)(31)

“What do I tell the folks on the other side of the highway?” Pecos asked.

“Hell, I don’t know.”

Pecos could almost see the sheriff’s blood pressure rising as he thought.

Finally the answer seemed to slam into his brain and he yelled, “Tell them to move inland if they’ve got a friend or relative on higher ground. If they live in town, just say ‘shelter in place.’ Water might reach Digger’s cabins or even the Honey Creek Café, but won’t flood into town unless it keeps raining for another week.”

LeRoy scratched a spot on his chin that he’d forgotten to shave. “If they’re sick, tell them to go to the clinic. If they’re scared, go to the church. Both are setting up extra beds, and we’ve got volunteers to help with transport.”

The sheriff noticed their guest still sitting beside Pecos. “Dang it, what’s she still doing here? Shouldn’t she be making coffee or something?”

“She’s here to help me, sir,” Pecos answered. “She has some experience handling a crisis. She’ll keep calm and help.”

After staring at her for a moment, the sheriff seemed to accept the idea. “Well, Marcie, you’d better do just that. We may need all the help we can get. Call Rambling Randy over at the radio station and tell him to broadcast every fifteen minutes. Relay every word I say, except for the swearing. One thing that will save lives should this storm hit hard is the folks around here having a plan, and I aim to give them one.”

Marcie nodded.

The sheriff added, “Make up the ten most asked questions Pecos gets, and the answers, and send them to Randy. He can read them out over the air. Maybe it’ll cut the calls to nine-one-one.” He turned to Pecos. “Don’t send me any more damn cat calls.”

Pecos smiled and said, “Got it, boss.” He’d given up being afraid of LeRoy’s yelling months ago.

The sheriff turned and walked out, mumbling something about how he should have retired months ago. “I could be on one of them islands on a beach drinking them fruity drinks called Maytags.”

“Mai tai,” Marcie whispered.

Pecos laughed. “Don’t correct him. He hates being wrong almost as much as he hates his wife not letting him have sweets.”

The phone started ringing. Pecos watched Marcie taking notes. Like clockwork she called Rambling Randy to tell him the latest alert. If the sheriff didn’t deliver the report, she chased the old guy around the office asking him questions.

The old man treated her like he did everyone in the office. Pecos admired him for that. Hayes didn’t hold grudges. He’d told Pecos once that a lawman can’t afford to or he’d run out of friends fast.

After a few hours the phone calls came faster. Marcie put on her headset and went to work. The main office beyond the small 911 room began to fill up. Pecos could hear Sam Cassidy, the fire chief, organizing men. Ranger Colby was by his side. The Texas Ranger carried a portable radio in one hand and his phone in the other. His job seemed to be keeping up with the boats sent out and the huge pickups that could drive through almost a foot of water if they could find the road.

Colby remembered every detail as if he had a whiteboard of notes in his mind.

Volunteers kept coming in, shaking water off like sheepdogs, gulping down the mayor’s coffee, and heading out again. All the homes along the river had to be checked before it got dark or the water got too deep.

“What’s happening out there?” Pecos asked when Marcie came back from tracking down the sheriff for his report.

Pecos was leaning back, scratching his head with both hands. He might look tired, but he was pumped up on coffee and worry.

“Some of the older fishermen are refusing to leave and the water’s already sloshing over its banks.” Marcie gave him a quick report. “Someone said that if it was just a few inches, folks might be all right, but it’ll come in deep and fast by dark. One man said six inches of running water will knock down a man. A foot can float a car.” She took her seat. “That’s all anyone is talking about out there.”

Pecos played with his pen, waiting for the next call. “I’ve heard if you toss a stick in a shallow creek and the stick floats off as fast as you walk, then the water will knock you down if you try to cross the stream. Some of those old-timers can’t stand solid on dry land. They won’t have a chance.”

The phone rang. Pecos took the call. Five seconds later the other phone rang and Marcie answered.

Marcie took all the information and read the latest weather report to the caller. When Pecos finished his call, he put her call on speaker. A panicked mother of three was crying. “If the water comes I’m afraid I can’t hold on to all three kids. I’m alone. No relatives live close. My husband’s deployed to Afghanistan.”

The fire chief and the mayor had been standing in the doorway listening. “You got her address?” Sam yelled at Marcie.

She nodded. “But it’s not in where we think the town might be flooded.”

“It doesn’t matter. Tell her we’re on our way.” When Marcie hesitated for one heartbeat, the chief repeated, “Tell her we’re moving her to the second floor of the firehouse. She’ll be safe there.”

Marcie relayed the message as Pecos passed the address. Sam was gone before Marcie hung up.