Sunset streaked the western horizon as Caleb and Zeke rode back into the valley. While Zeke watered the horses, Caleb walked the creek bed and gathered edible roots. They climbed the slope to discover the stand of cottonwoods was jammed with people. Even so, the clearing held an air of eerie silence.
Kevin had shifted the wagons over to one side. He waved his rifle in greeting. “How did it go?”
“Fine. Who are these people?”
“I was waiting for you to get back to check them out.” He hopped down from the wagon but kept his rifle at the ready. “They’ve got the look of refugees, but I could be wrong.”
Caleb kept his voice low but still feared he was being overheard. “Why are they so quiet?”
“Refugees get so used to hiding, it’s hard to lose the habit. Especially the kids.” Kevin watched Caleb and Zeke untie the burlap sacks lashed to their saddles. “What have you got there?”
“Food for us, including fresh-baked bread. Oats for the horses.”
“Sweet. Mind if I share our venison? It could help get our neighbors to talk.”
“Fine.”
Kevin cut off a chunk large enough to feed the three of them. He lifted the remaining haunches and started toward the other camp. The kids fled at his approach, clearly spooked by his size. Kevin stopped well clear of the fire and waited as two of the men walked over. There were about a dozen adults, perhaps a few more women than men, all of them dark-skinned. In the waning light he could not tell more than that. The Catawba enclave had a number of African American families, a few native Indians, some Hispanics, about two dozen Koreans.
Caleb watched as Kevin handed over the meat and accepted a mug in return. Kevin settled cross-legged onto the earth, but even then he remained outside the group. As he sipped from the mug, he lowered his head slightly and pulled his shoulders inward. The former deputy could not make himself small, but he had experience at adopting as unthreatening a pose as possible.
Zeke rode his horse bareback down to the creek and returned with two buckets of water. Caleb used the last fragments of daylight to gather wood. He started a fire, washed the roots, sliced the meat, and prepared their meal.
Kevin rejoined them and confirmed, “Refugees. They’re from the eastern lowlands, a village called Elizabeth. Portsmouth Township took it over. They had to leave.”
“Politics. Two of the women were on the town council. The fat guy there was mayor. The tallest woman is a dentist, the older one there is a nurse’s aide. They’ve applied twice for township passes, Raleigh and Charlotte. But they’re twenty-six in all, and they won’t split up.”
They ate in silence. When the skillet was empty and the coffeepot set on the coals, Kevin said, “They say the militia have set up a roadblock about six miles farther east.”
“Is that bad?”
“It’s not good. Township militia don’t normally operate this far out. This is sheriff’s territory.”
Zeke said, “They’re looking for you.”
Kevin carried the look of a warrior. Hard as the gun holstered to his belt. Hard as the night. “Soon as it’s dark, I’ll slip out and head overland. I’ll hold up somewhere to the south. If they set the roadblock where I think it is, the highway jinks hard right about a mile farther on.”
“What if it’s not you they’re after?”
Kevin shrugged. “All I lose is a decent night’s sleep. Now listen. A mile or so past that turning, there’s a crossroads where three old roads meet. A farmers’ market operates there. I’ll meet you at the Highwayman’s Tavern.”
Caleb didn’t like them splitting up, but he could think of no argument to stop Kevin. Zeke seemed almost disinterested. He kept searching the night, turning one way and then the other.
Kevin asked, “Anything?”
“There might be patrols. But they’re too far away for me to be certain.”
Kevin drained his cup. “I better head out.” He made a pack that included his bedroll, their last sack of dried fruit and peanuts, a water skin, an extra knife.
As he strapped on his sidearm, Caleb handed him the second loaf of bread. “Take this.”
“I won’t say no.” He stuffed the loaf on top, shouldered his pack, and said, “See you on the other side.”
Caleb watched him stride away. He had no reason to feel as bad about this as he did.
When Kevin had been swallowed by the night, Caleb walked over to the larger camp and introduced himself. “I understand one of you is a dentist.”
The woman was taller than him and big-boned, with large, intelligent eyes. “I am, and I’m training another. And a third is a skilled nurse.”
“We come from Catawba enclave. We’ve got two dentists. One is over seventy. The other is despised by just about everybody.”
The portly man, the former mayor, said, “We hear most of the farming enclaves don’t make outsiders welcome.”
Caleb understood what he meant. “If the elders say they are welcome, the enclave obeys. Some folks are better at obeying than others.”
The woman declared, “We won’t be broken up.”
Caleb nodded. It was a familiar refrain. Such times forged strong bonds. “Your profession could make all the difference. Some of our folk have terrible problems with their teeth.”
The woman took her time examining him. “Won’t you join us?”