even as I boosted them up on my back to do the carrying, piggy back style. Cass brought a military surplus stretcher, but neither girl would agree to lie down on the stretched canvas.
As I left to go get Delilah, Shay sat with Cass, hand in hand, and made little mewling sounds like a kitten. The girl’s face, even after her mother’s thorough washing with creek water, still looked discolored and I realized it was from multiple bruises. Some half healed, and others fresh.
I noticed the same pattern of bruising on little Delilah’s face, as well as the vacant, lost look in her eyes. She was barely four foot tall and weighed maybe seventy pounds, and I barely felt her weight as she clung to my neck. I’d seen variations of that hollow eyed stare a couple of times on my cross-country trek, and I wondered if we could ever get the little girl back.
When Delilah rejoined her sister, they linked hands immediately but exchanged not a word. For that matter, I’d never heard Delilah speak. Cass murmured something to both girls, her tone gentle and calming, and I remembered that Cass too had a little girl in that throng of children inhabiting the main house. Again I was grateful for the barracks.
“Are they okay?” Mrs. Trimble asked anxiously as I made my way back over to her seated position. She had taken the opportunity to wash up as well, and she at least could make eye contact for brief moments.
“Yes, ma’am. They are sitting with Mrs. McWorter. I’m sure they will be glad to see you as soon as we can get to them. Are you sure you won’t let us use the stretcher? Nick or one of the other guys would be glad to help.”
Mrs. Trimble looked down, shivering suddenly and shaking her head ever so slightly.
“They…carried us around on doors, Luke. Ripped them right off the frames in our house, then tied us to them when they decided to move out here. Then just strapped us to the roof of one of the trucks they were using. Like we were luggage. Said it was easier to move us around that way.”
I had to turn away at the woman’s reaction, but her words spurred a thought.
“Where are their vehicles now? We didn’t find anything like that when we searched.”
Mrs. Trimble shrugged and rose slowly to her feet. She’d also dressed herself in a pair of baggy jeans and a long sleeved button up shirt, with the cuffs rolled up, but we’d found no shoes to cover her feet. She had very small feet, even for a woman. Instead, Mark came up with a pair of old rubber boots.
“They left out early this morning, I think. I heard the engines, anyway. That woke me up. Then, those…men started hurting Sean again. They started yesterday…still trying to find out where he’d hidden our food.” She paused, blinking rapidly, before continuing.
“I think they did it today just for fun. The boss, he wasn’t even asking questions. He might have gone with them. The boss, I mean. He didn’t come by the tent, this morning…”
With her pause, I got what she meant.
“What’s his name? The boss. Did you ever catch what the other men called him?”
“Randall, I think. Some of the men called him Rand or Randy.”
While we had been speaking, the two of us were walking carefully down the rough trail that existed between the campsite and the dirt road. With a careful grip on my left forearm, Mrs. Trimble made her way slowly; on legs I knew had to be feeling rubbery and unsure.
I paused frequently, allowing her to pick a path through the deep ruts in the ground. Clearly, somebody had been driving back and forth between the raider base and the private road of the timber company.
As we became more comfortable with each other’s presence, I finally screwed up my courage to ask the question that had been bugging me.
“Mrs. Trimble, why me? I mean, I would never hurt you or your girls. Never. But why do you trust me and not Mark or Nick? They are your