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“Report it,” Arnoldo muttered, shaking his head. “You can call. They’ll drag their feet and screw around. No one wants to touch this place with a ten-foot pole.”
“What if you call?” Bailey asked, wanting to fall down on her knees and beg, but trying to retain some dignity.
Arnoldo rolled his weight back on his heels and looked away. “I should have been more transparent with you when you came to my house. I’m a pariah down there. You were gone, and not long after, your father was taken into custody. It got ugly. I couldn’t seem to get everything done that I needed to. I didn’t realize there were ties to this place on the force. I made a big stink, tried to pull back the curtain on everything, and I used some unconventional tactics that ended up sinking me.”
“Unconventional?” Mrs. Tully asked, looking worried.
“I tend to punch my way through barriers. Some of those barriers were people. My superiors. I pissed a lot of people off. If I made a call down there now, it would make things worse.”
“Men have that effect on situations,” Mrs. Tully said with annoyance. “Now how about we stop talking about what we can’t do and start talking about what we can do. I’ve helped many of the people who want to leave with their children get packed up. King is in contact with Carmen, you remember her?” She eyed Arnoldo, waiting until he nodded. “Well, she’s going to help with that.”
“What can I do?” Arnoldo asked, waiting for an order as if there were some list somewhere to be checked off.
“Good question,” Bailey said, rubbing her tired eyes. “My mother needs urgent medical care but is refusing it. She’ll die soon without it but feels like it’s my father’s will. She thinks when James and his men return, she’ll be miraculously healed. I think there is a chance their disdain for me is at a boiling point. They’re encouraged by letters from my father and they might come in with guns blazing. If you’re looking for what to do, we’re not really at that stage yet.”
Arnoldo searched all their faces, hoping one would break into laughter and tell them this was a joke. When he realized how dire things were, he ran his hand over his balding head. “If you had more time, you could get your mother deemed unable to make her own medical decisions and then—”
“There is no more time,” Bailey reported somberly.
“Where is King?” Arnoldo asked, scanning over their shoulders.
“He went to find their camp,” Moe explained. “He figured if we could get some intel on exactly what they have going on, at least we could be more prepared.”
“Prepared for a fight?” Arnoldo asked, looking around the area as if magical soldiers would pop out suddenly. “That doesn’t seem feasible.”
“I’ve got a mean right hook,” Mrs. Tully teased, holding her fists up.
Arnoldo smiled slightly then fell serious. “I think leaving is the best option. You can regroup and try to formalize some kind of action, legal or otherwise.”
“King is going to come up with something,” Moe said, nodding his head. “Just give him a shot and if by morning we’re still in the same position, we’ll consider leaving.”
“We will?” Bailey asked, cocking up a curious brow.
“Everything’s on the table,” Arnoldo said, seeming like he was itching to take control again. “Have you called Carmen?”
“No,” Bailey said, her cheeks blazing red for a moment. There was so much there. So many parts of that story that made her stomach twist into knots. It was made even worse by the idea that Carmen and King had been working in cahoots to try to trick Bailey. The idea of calling Carmen after all this time felt impossible to do. And yet, just as impossible to avoid.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
King
Darkness had closed in fully around him as clouds rolled in front of the moon. He moved slowly through the woods, his senses heightened as he tried to remain undetected. He had spent most of his life in the city, but he had been in dangerous situations before and knew how to move silently and with purpose.
As he got closer to the spot indicated on Moe’s map, he could see he was on the right track. There were well worn paths through the brush and trash discarded in odd places.
Ducking behind a large fallen tree, King saw a sorry sight. The camp was a mess. The men living there were clearly in dire straits. The shelters were in disrepair, and the camp was overgrown with weeds and brush, trash and debris strewn about.
Taking a quick stock of the place he saw two men sitting by a fire, playing cards and laughing loudly. They were obviously supposed to be on lookout duty but were clearly not taking their responsibilities seriously. King made a mental note of their positions and moved on.
As he continued to survey the camp, he tried to get a headcount of how many men might be living there. He saw a few sleeping in makeshift, lean-to shelters with one open side. There were a couple more men wandering around aimlessly, looking tired and despondent. A fire had been burning in a stone pit but it was mostly unattended embers now.
King tried to ascertain if the men were armed, but it was difficult to tell in the darkness. He needed to get closer to the camp to get a better look. If they were bringing guns to the fight, it changed everything.
Slowly and methodically, King inched his way closer to the camp. He knew any sudden movement or noise could alert the men, and he didn't want to take any chances.
From his new vantage point he saw it, his gut dropping down to his boots. Leaned against another fallen tree were at least a half a dozen rifles. They looked in varying conditions, some so old he wasn’t sure if they were even in working condition. But if even half of them were, he understood the implication for Cinderhill.
The rations they’d stolen earlier that day were stacked up close to the fire and picked over. Jars opened and smashed. The leaves of root vegetables strewn around. And worst of all some of the peaches he’d canned himself were eaten.
