Darkness upon the Land
Chapter 12

Reuben hesitated as soon as he stepped out onto the wider planks of cypress wood that composed the floor of the porch. The place didn’t seem so quiet now. Occasional birdsong filtered down from the trees, and somewhere behind the house he heard one of the ducks from Liana’s flock quack as though it had just been goosed. He sighed as he softly shut the door behind him and stepped down to the grassy yard.

As he started to walk around the corner of the house to investigate the livestock, he wasn’t terribly surprised to see none other than Henry tentatively crawl out from under the porch. The dog hesitated as he watched Reuben and wagged his tail slightly.

“So, you brave defender of the homeland, you finally decided to come out now, did you?” He said kindly in Cherokee.

He had been brought up bilingual, but over a decade ago decided to add Hebrew to his repertoire. Three years ago, when he discovered both Liana and Alexia could speak Cajun, which was basically Americanized French, he decided to learn that, too. And six months ago his sporadic but repeated exposure to the Catholic Church made him decide that learning Latin might be useful should he desire to tackle more languages in the future.

The dog’s tail wagged with more enthusiasm as he finished trotting to Reuben, who patted the Brittany and scratched him briefly around the ears. He considered Henry to be pretty worthless as a bird dog, but that was mostly because Ben had never bothered to train the canine properly, and he knew better than to “mess with” the man’s dog. Liana was content just having Henry around to bark whenever possums and raccoons tried to invade the poultry and rabbits. Regardless, it was good to see the pooch hadn’t become alligator bait.

He resumed his trek to the barn, shed, and pastures, and tried to shake off the coil of despair that had been clinging to him ever since they discovered Liana. He was nearly as broken up about her as Alexia was. Reuben didn’t feel entirely right calling her by her first name, but eventually she insisted she didn’t want him calling her Ms. Gautreaux. He had been raised to show respect to his elders, but it turned out most of his friends were his elders, so those who wound up fitting into that category eventually earned more familiar forms of address.

As far as wisdom and work ethic went, Liana shared much in common with his mother despite being nearly ten years younger. When the two women first met they immediately hit it off. Although they didn’t get to see each other often, the PIT phones kept them in touch and they utilized Reuben to courier “gifts” of garden produce back and forth whenever he traveled between families. So Liana was like a doting aunt to him, and he couldn’t fault Alexia for her reaction when they found her mother.

And what happened here made him worry about his own family.

If someone as savvy and self-sufficient as Liana could be attacked, the same thing could happen to his parents. They did have each other as backup, but they also had his thirteen-year-old sister to look out for, as well. At least they lived in an even more remote area in regard to distance from major roads and the size of the nearest town, but there were miscreants in their community just like there were miscreants here. Reuben was more eager than ever to get headed to Missouri so he could confirm his family’s welfare. But a realization lurked in the back of his mind that he wasn’t yet ready to examine in the light of day.

What he had to consider now was just what to do when the perps returned. This wasn’t going to be exactly like hunting. Quarry was given a sporting chance to escape, which was why one didn’t fish with a stick of dynamite or bait deer to walk right up to the tree stand. But he couldn’t give these people that same opportunity. He had to take them down in one form or another, and he really did prefer to not have to kill them. Besides that fundamental respect for human life he’d cultivated over the years, he hoped to get enough information from them to gauge how much more of a threat was still out there.

Nothing outside the house appeared to have been disturbed. He first stepped into the shed that housed the Satin rabbits, and noted the buck and both does were still there, one doe with a litter of five still nursing. The fourth cage held three kits that had just reached butchering size. The back of the shed stored garden and lawn care equipment and a couple of bicycles, and he sorted through the paraphernalia until he found some lengths of rope that were at least six feet long and draped them over his shoulder.

Until lately the structure had also been doubling as a brooding house. Liana had placed a two-foot tall, round stock tank on the floor just past the rabbit cages, and a red heat lamp hung from a long cord suspended from the ceiling and into the middle of the tank. The light wasn’t working, of course, and he had already discovered seven brown-spotted turkey poults that looked about a week old living in a spare rabbit cage in the kitchen. He moved the rifle to his other shoulder and headed on to the poultry pen.

The grass in the yard where the Khaki Campbell ducks and Bourbon Red turkeys were kept was sparse, and the back side of the broad pen stopped mere inches from the swamp that encircled this mound of dry land. The ducks had to be kept out of the water not only to keep them from gorging on fish, which could taint their meat and eggs, but also to keep them from being eaten by alligators and snapping turtles. Four turkeys lived with the ducks, and they used the larger nest box sitting on the ground closer to the front fence. Two smaller nest boxes sat beyond it, and to one side was a three sided shed to provide shelter from inclement weather.

With Henry still at his heels, he walked to the barn. It was the other building original to this property, and also fashioned almost entirely from cypress wood. By his standards it was a small barn, but it was big enough for Liana’s needs. One end, with its two horse-size stalls, a tack room, and a feed room, remained relatively unchanged. The other end she had converted from a primitive cow milking station to a “modern” goat milking barn with a concrete floor and white painted wall.

He counted on the dog barking should anyone approach the house, so he decided to walk into the pasture. One could enter from either end of the building, and when he left the milk parlor, the two floppy-eared Nubian goats immediately trotted over to him. Elsie, the quintessential old gray mare, brought up the rear at a slower pace.

“I don’t have anything for you, ladies. Sorry about that.” Reuben still spoke in Cherokee and he scratched around the goats’ ears and on their rumps when they reached him.

Bliss, the brown one, was older and stood contently beside him to enjoy the attention. But the black one, Jinx, kept stepping around him as though she suspected he was holding out on her. Her belly was so swollen he wondered if she might be carrying triplets or even quads. Elsie came to a stop a few yards away and watched them, content to stay where she was because a good scratch wasn’t worth her effort as much as a treat. She probably also noticed the rope and got suspicious.

“Things have changed, you know,” he continued as he looked at the horse. “You and I may be striking up a little business partnership.”

Reuben used the gate to leave the pasture, and Henry, who had been waiting for him outside the barn, followed as he walked past the garden and around the other side of the house to return to the front yard. As he passed the wooden cistern mounted under the downspout of the rain gutters, he tapped his knuckles on the side even though he knew the container had to be quite full. Liana had used the cistern as a convenient means to water plants around the house, so she hadn’t bothered with keeping it filtered. He’d better construct a means for them to save rainwater for drinking, and that way they wouldn’t have to boil everything.

From what he could observe, Reuben deduced the attack had happened early in the morning, but not until after Liana had completed the chores. A twinge in his conscience reminded him that he and Alexia might have been here to help if he hadn’t purposefully delayed their arrival last night. On the one hand he felt obligated to stay and help out until her mom was back on her feet. On the other hand, he might jeopardize his own family’s security by delaying his return home.

His rounds finished, he paused near the corner of the porch and gazed out toward the yard. Besides checking on the supplies and livestock, he had also finished making a couple of plans on how to handle the invaders when they arrived. And it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have a third plan worked out while he was at it.

But the next thing he needed to do was get something to eat and maybe squeeze in a quick nap if he thought Alexia was up to keeping watch. In the last thirty-six hours he’d had eight hours of sleep, and for the last five days had been consuming less than half his recommended calories. Reuben knew he wasn’t at the top of his game, and he needed as much of an edge as he could get.

A couple of bites of pemmican with some canned peaches, followed by a fifteen minute siesta, did improve how he felt physically. But as the afternoon continued his anxiety grew, making him wish the attackers would arrive so he could get out of this waiting stage.

The time to do the evening chores approached, adding to his insecurity. He returned to the front bedroom where Alexia continued her bedside vigil.

“We’ll delay as long as we can,” he informed her. “But I might need you to milk Bliss and feed the animals while I stand guard.”

She frowned. “Guarding me or guarding Mѐre?”

“You, primarily. But I’d say be as stealthy as you can out there because I’d really rather not lose our element of surprise.”

“How am I supposed to sneak across the yard?”

“Just be sure to stay aware of your surroundings. If you should notice –”

He suddenly stopped because Henry started barking.