Walking in the Rain (Book 4): Dark Sky Thunder by William Allen Page A

tell given their condition) looked to have bruising around her neck and on her cheeks, but she was unrestrained. Hard to place a source of the abuse without waking somebody, which would have opened up a whole other can of worms at the time, we’d find out later.
    The group owned worn but serviceable camping gear. They’d obviously traveled some ways and had been working to improve the living conditions with what little they could repurpose at the old place. Armed mainly with shotguns and a few hunting rifles, they seemed to be maintaining their weapons with care. All in all, the group reminded me of a smaller version of the Branson crew that Glenn showed up with outside Gentry. That resemblance prompted me to volunteer for first contact duty.
    Amy had not been pleased, but she understood. Mom, not so much. Amy knew we’d been just like these folks until recently, and I could identify with them easier than someone like my dad could, who’d seen bad shit but hadn’t done it on the road.
    Since the scouting mission kept us out until 4 a.m. by my windup watch, Dad and I crashed upon our return and crawled out of our beds at eight that morning to hold our briefing. Dad laid it all out, detailing everything we’d discovered and what he thought we should do next.
    “Look, these people might be a threat, but if we don’t engage them somehow, I can almost guarantee they will try for the ranch when their food runs out. And unless they did a really good job of hiding their provisions, that won’t be long. We need to meet and see about forming a mutually beneficial relationship.”
    Just about everybody from the two houses had gathered for the open meeting. We were cramped in the living room of the Big House, but I was glad we had done it there. The natural light was better, and I could read the expressions on everybody’s face.
    Uncle Billy was the first to speak up. “We don’t know anything about these people, really. So what if they aren’t taking slaves now. Or mistreating their kids. They still might try to make a move here.”
    Dad nodded. He couldn’t dispute his brother’s words. “Yes, but they have been minding their manners so far. Look, this is our home turf. We need to defend it with everything we got. No dispute there. But we are also shorthanded. If we can give them an incentive to watch our backs, then that would be worth a lot to us.”
    That prompted a reasonable discussion, as everyone who wanted to, expressed their views. Mr. Ike and his wife, Miss Angelina, didn’t want to talk at first, but after careful coaxing by Dad, Ike finally gave his two cents.
    “I don’t know what to suggest. I know we are alive today because Mr. Messner—Gus, I mean—wanted us to have a place. And you, Sam, and Billy too, saved our family and treated us like your own people. If these are just folks, even folks who’ve had to do hard things to make it this far, does that mean they can’t ever be trusted? I don’t know, and that’s why I didn’t want to say one way or the other.”
    I thought about what Mr. Stanton said. “I’ll talk to ’em,” I said, finally joining the conversation.
    “What? Are you crazy?” Paige blurted out. “Why would they listen to anything you had to say?”
    “He won’t be going,” my mother added with finality. So she thought, anyway.
    I turned, looking at my mother and my sister, both sitting with crossed arms and firmly set jaws. It was so cute I almost laughed, which wouldn’t have helped my case any. “I have to go. I know what they’ve likely been through and what is probably foremost in their worries. We can help them some, both with food and also maybe some medical and mutual security. But they won’t want to trust us. Not at first. We can have the best intentions on both sides and still trigger a fight neither side needs.”
    “You think we can eventually bring them in with us?” Dad asked, and I could tell he was genuinely curious.
    “Don’t know. Like I said,