Gideon walked the path at the end of the crop rows, looking over the dusted, buried, or wilted vegetables. Even the long retaining walls, made of rock and mud, hadn't shielded the vegetables from the wind and the sand. But that was always the way, with a storm as severe as this. Between the rows, the Crop Tenders knelt, cleaning off the crops that could be cleaned, or tugging out those that were too damaged to grow any further. A stringy-haired woman tossed a handful of green vegetables into a cart. Next to her, a gaunt man dusted off a sagging, brown root. The damaged crops would be passed out as early rations.
The storm—and the deaths—would lower the morale of his people.
But Gideon couldn't let it consume them.
Grief and despair wouldn't feed stomachs.
He looked over his shoulder. A row behind him, Wyatt watched some workers load several wagons. Three rows past, Brody, Saurab, and Horatio spoke with the crop supervisors about the plans for distribution. The supervisors and Crop Tenders did their duties with a diligence that showed they knew the importance of their work.
The Crop Tenders were handpicked, expected to keep pace, or be demoted. Some of their families had done their duty for generations, passing their knowledge down to their offspring. In exchange for tending the crops, the Crop Tenders received their share of rations, as well as meat from the tithing storehouse at the front of the colony. The Crop Tenders escaped the heat and danger of the desert—it was better than being a hunter; that was for sure.
They had a special privilege.
Just like his Watchers.
Breaking from his observations, Wyatt strode past a line of carts to join Gideon.
"About ten percent of our crops are damaged," he reported, with a serious expression. Gideon could see him running figures in his head. He already had his book out, ready to make tallies.
Gideon looked from the crops across the river to the clusters of houses, where children played, and women carried buckets. Not for the first time, he wondered about the hunters caught in the desert. Depending on how they fared, he might have to speak more words at tomorrow's ceremony.
"What are we doing about the lost Crop Tenders?" Gideon asked.
"I already have supervisors working on their replacements," Wyatt told him. "The positions should be filled soon."
Gideon nodded. Wyatt performed his tasks without question, like most of Gideon's good men.
"We'll need to fix some parts of our retaining walls," Gideon observed, pointing at some fallen or scattered rocks.
"We'll get on that," Wyatt confirmed.
Gideon glanced from the crops to the top of the cliffs, watching a few men stroll the high ledges, checking the horizon. Whispers of the lost crops would permeate the colony long before the damaged rations did.
Hunger led to unrest.
It always did.
Catching Wyatt's attention, he said, "Tell Thorne to have The Watchers keep a close eye on the colony. We don't need any violence or disturbances, in the wake of empty stomachs."