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Cynthia refilled her own glass of lemonade and topped off Carly’s. “We’ve been talking for a while about whether or not it was finally safe, if the Crisis was really over. If the babies are surviving, it must be over.”
“How did you manage to defend the place?” Stan asked. “From what I saw on the news—” None of them needed him to complete the sentence. They had all seen what had happened to the authorities who tried to hold back the flood of refugees.
“Road’s the only way in.” Tom refilled his glass and kept his eyes on it while he spoke. “Couple of folks tried going through the swamp. Wasn’t pretty when the ‘gators got ‘em. Hungry, those ‘gators. Not many deer or other prey about these days. Which brings me to them horses. Where’d you get ‘em?”
“We found the mare,” Justin said. “She was already pregnant when we got her.”
Tom nodded. “And we can assume the sire wasn’t immune to the Infection?”
“I’d say that’s a pretty safe bet.” As Justin answered, Carly looked down into the yard where Shadowfax grazed, flicking her tail lazily. She had never thought about Shadowfax’s mate. Had Shadowfax chosen him or had she been bred by her owners? Did horses mate for life? Had she grieved for him? The thoughts were unsettling, and Carly pushed them away to concentrate on the conversation.
“Yet, the filly is healthy.” Tom glanced over at Carly. “What about you, ma’am? Was the father of your baby immune?”
“He’s my husband,” Carly replied, nodding at Justin. She unwound the light blanket she put around Dagny to keep the sun off her and draped it over her shoulder. Dagny was starting to get fussy, and she grew downright grumpy if her meals were delayed when she indicated she wanted them.
“You folks get married after the plague?”
“We did.” Carly winced as she unwound a lock of hair from Dagny’s clutches. “We met a Reverend Davis when he stopped at our home to trade.”
“Reverend Davis, did you say?” Tom’s brows rose in surprise. “Older fella? White hair?”
“Yes, that’s him.”
“He and his wife passed this way about a week ago.”
Carly smiled. “I’m glad to hear they’re all right.”
“I shoulda let them in,” Tom muttered.
“You made the only choice you could at the time, Tom,” Cynthia said. She patted her husband’s arm in comfort, and he laid his hand over hers. “How could we know for sure it was safe?”
“You’re right.” Tom smiled at her. “As usual.” He turned back to his visitors. “Where y’all from?”
When Carly told him her home state he whistled. “Alaska! Far from home, girl.”
Carly gave him a small, wistful smile. “I couldn’t stay. I probably wouldn’t have made it through the winter.”
“What are your winters like here?” Dagny had finished with her meal, and when Carly lifted her to burp her, Justin gestured for Carly to give the baby to him. He laid her against his shoulder and patted her tiny back gently. Dagny cooed and put her hand against her father’s upper arm, opening and closing it as though she were trying to pick up his tattoo.
“A mite cold at times. I haven’t seen ice on the swamp in at least twenty years, though. Maybe longer. Usually not so cold as you’d freeze unless you were lying outside bare in it.”
Carly could see how Justin’s eyes sharpened with interest. Stan had a thoughtful expression. He glanced at Mindy, and they shared a moment of silent communication before turning their attention back to Tom.
“Can you grow food in the winter?” Justin asked.
“Some. Radishes, spinach, cauliflower, that sort of thing.”
Justin shifted Dagny to his other shoulder. “You must be growing all of your food if you haven’t sent anyone out for supplies.”
“We are.” Tom looked rather proud of the fact. “‘Course, I think some of us are gettin’ sick of being vegetarians, but what are you gonna do? We got a couple of ladies keeping chickens, but we can’t produce enough to keep the whole town in meat every day. Not yet, anyway.”
“Storm?” Carly called, and the little horse trotted around to the porch obediently. Stan must have understood her concern because he rose from his seat on the porch steps to get a rope from the wagon and tied Storm to it.
“We ain’t gonna eat your horses, ma’am.” Tom chuckled.
Carly flushed a little, but she was still glad Storm was where she could keep an eye on her.
Sam crawled out from where he’d been dozing in the shade under the wagon and looked for Tigger. He found her in the wagon and carried her over to sit by Carly. He laid his head on her knee, and she scratched the itchy spot on the back of his neck where he couldn’t reach. Sam’s tail thumped on the porch floor, and he arched his neck under her hand, an expression very much like a smile pulling up his lips at the corners.
