#83c.
"Captain?" Will said quietly, "you do know that the lawyer behind all this is that guy's father," and he gestured toward Mark.
The look on Capt. Martin's face told Will he hadn't been aware, and that brought on a thunderous scowl. "Is that right?" the burly lawman ground out. The chew in his cheek getting a tremendous workout as he fretted internally.
"It kinda makes ya wonder what kind of a guy would attempt to frame his own son, doesn't it?" Will continued casually; planting the seed he wanted to grow and sprout. They needed to discount Borg's legal maneuvering in any way possible.
"Yeah," Archer Martin contemplated his Sargent's words. "Yeah, I believe this is more like a personal grudge motivation, how come nobody told me?"
"You've been on the peck about this family," Will said honestly, "Sir." he amended as Martin cut him a chilling glance. "Somebody is truly out to harm these people and they are having to battle the problem by themselves cause no agency will believe them. At no time other than the first confrontation, have the Burton kid's parents ever come to see or talk to their children. Then to show up in a home invasion type of assault, what did the Burton's and their friends expect?"
Captain Martin changed moods rapidly; calling a halt to the search and hassling interrogation of the clan.
"Pendelton," Martin pinned Will to the wall with one of his famous black looks,"if I ever find out you aided and abeted......., you're history. Are there any questions?"
"No Sir." and then it was over. The clamor and milling mass of bodies gone into the silence of the night.
"I wish I was a drinking man," Ev mentioned plaintively, "that seems quite appropriate for right now."
Mark smiled as he went to the buffet and withdrew a bottle. The Pendelton whiskey smooth and yet cauterizing to the throat. The glasses were placed in the sink and Mark went back to cooking supper.
"You'd make Clora a good wife," Ben teased as the plates filled with man sized hamburgers slid on the table.
"You'd better believe it," Mark joked back. Then he suddenly smacked his forehead, "I didn't milk tonight, how dumb can I get."
"Poor Bossy. I'll do it," Ev looked around the kitchen for the milk pail, but it was gone.
"I believe Clora has it," Mark said over his shoulder as he dumped soap and hot water in the dish pan. "She values that pail more than me."
Ev was smiling broadly as he got up to get his milk pail from his place. "Hey Will, did they turn us loose to go back in our houses?"
"Not specifically," Will replied. "I'd go anyway, they ain't here."
"My thought's exactly," the lanky older man grinned through his bushy mustache. "Thanks for the head's up Will, it could have gotten pretty ugly."
"Me too," chimed in Mark and Ben, "thanks man."
Ben thought a minute, "Hey Ev, you're on for guard duty; did you get enough sleep to carry through. Maybe I should go milk."
"Let me," Mark chuckled, "My hands are already warm," and he held up his fingers dripping warm wash water.
"She likes you better," Ben accused, laughing. "You seem to have a way with ornery females, not that I would ever accuse Clora of being difficult."
"You only think Clora is mean, since she got big enough to whump you for your smart mouth," Ev cackled, looking at Ben, dodging when the man threw a potholder at him.
"You guy's want to sleep here tonight? Only one house to guard, if that's a concern." Mark offered as he dried his hands. "Find a room upstairs, just let us, I mean Ev know to watch your diggings. And," he paused to throw in extra emphasis, "If you see my old man, shoot him."
There were nods all around. "Gladly," Ben said heartfully, echoing the popular sentiment.
Mark milked, Ev suited up for night guard duty, Ben went to inspect how much headway Wayne had made on the gates and Will thankfully went to bed.
Deep in the woods, the women put tired children to bed and sat relaxing around the fire. The small Dakota hole cheerful and soothing as the tips of the flames barely showed through the top opening. Rain pittered on the tarp roof, a musical, mesmerizing sound as the day's events faded away and sleep sounded better than staying up.
Lainey was the first to yawn and move to her tent. Then Cheryl and Clora threw in the towel and tucked themselves in their tents for the night. Wayne fashioned a debris hut off to the side of the encampment, the weight of caring for so many other family members a heavy burden to him.
He lay awake listening to the rain, every once in a while an errant drop would find it's way down through the woven branches and plop on him. The sight he saw in his mind, Lilly and the girls dead in their beds wouldn't leave his consciousness. Wayne wondered what it was that God had in mind for him, his broken heart was in poor shape and hardly beating, his spirit was as low as a spirit could go, and if he didn't have the faith that Evie had given him, he would have nothing at all.
Wayne went into a troubled sleep remembering Evie reading the bible to them. "Build your strength on ME," he heard over and over again until he closed his eyes.
The night was heavy with gunshots, New Years Eve brought in by the loud noise and somewhat joyous revelry of the few able to afford the celebration.
The children stirred and tossed and turned with every loud report, fussing in their sleep; keeping their Mother's awake. It was like having a hangover the next morning, sleep deprived adults dealing with hyper active children.
Wayne thought his head would blow up if he heard another "why," the only word the older Burton boy's could think to say. Ronnie blabbered constantly, so busy talking that he forgot to pay attention to the answers that were right in front of him. Milo watched and learned far more than Ronnie, for he saw the cause and effect and the why of the deliberate movements Wayne made.
Milo stood silently, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he watched every thing Wayne did. He noted that you don't fill the coffee pot all the way full, it will boil over if you do. Never grab the cast iron frying pan handle without a hotpad, know which way the wind is blowing the smoke and pay attention to what you are cooking so it doesn't burn.
Milo was like Wayne's shadow, two steps behind him as the elder moved around the camp. The only time Milo relented his persistent dogging was when he sat down to eat. The scoop of fried potatoes mixed with ham and eggs was filling, and Milo drank his hot chocolate just like Wayne drank his coffee; blowing softly across the surface and taking small sips with the cup cradled between both hands.
Clora observed, smiling softly to herself as she held Teddy and helped him eat. Her own milk coffee cooling as the cup sat on a rock. Lainey sat wrapped in her shawl, one eye open and the other one sleeping, her hair a disheveled mess and Anne smelling decidedly unfresh.
Cheryl corralled Ronnie and shoved a plate in his hands and commanded "eat." Hoping that a good sized mouthful would stop the questions. Christy had a tangle in her hair and fussed with it, loudly lamenting the lack of a mirror.
Ev finished his last round, catching the flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. Ducking back into the night fading shadows he let his senses feel the displaced energy as a body moved out of sight. Mark was coming out the door with a borrowed milk pail and Ev used his penlight to flash the three dashes that spelled trouble. Mark dropped silently, the pail on the porch rocking slightly in his haste.
When Mark's eyes focused he saw Ev's arm silently motion him around the back of the shop, and he was holding up one and then two fingers indicating there was one possibly two strangers. Mark faded in and out of the deepest shadows, slipping toward the backside of the shop and watching the rifle barrel as it tried to track him in the faint light.
Whomever the rifle belonged to was slipshod and not very smart, nor adept at tracking. The bullet whizzed past Mark's ear, the first indication the gun owner was better equipped than Mark thought. The second shot splintered the door jamb and plumb pissed Mark off.