“Good. I like fresh apples. And it sounds like ‘Sam the Carpenter’ has his work cut out for him for the rest of the year.”
“I’ve learned I like the tranquility of quietly planning and creating things around our home. We’re building a good life here.”
JR leaned closer and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you Samuel Boyle.” She paused before saying, “Quiet tranquility. . . . After recently shooting two trespassers and trashing their bodies in a ditch. Hopefully things will settle down now and we can enjoy a peaceful future in our new woodland home.”
Sam shrugged, then frowned because he doubted it would be that quick or simple.
After breakfast the following morning, JR went back to the enclosed trailer alone on the Kubota for another bag of chicken feed. Sam was building a storage closet with six shelves in a corner of the cabin. Smokey was left with Sam to give JR a little ‘alone’ time as she called it. She still struggled with the constant, deadly violence that seemed to strike all too often and without warning or reason.
At a high overlook she stopped and shut off the engine to admire the panoramic view of the valley and the meandering stream below. Her life with Sam was evolving into the intimate relationship she’d always envisioned having with a mate. Once everything settled, she intended to have children. They hadn’t discussed it, but she planned to bring it up when she felt the time was right. She sensed he’d be a good, loving father. Tears formed when she thought of her parents and siblings. They would have approved of Sam and accepted him into their close-knit family. She hoped their first child would be a boy. She’d propose naming it after both grandfathers—Samuel Jacob Boyle. When a baby girl came along, they’d decide on its name together; but it definitely wouldn’t be saddled with Josephine Rhiannon. Breyna came to mind—lovely, innocent Breyna. She wrapped both arms around her chest and imagined the relationship that might have been. Sam had proven he wasn’t against taking an abandoned child in to raise and love as his own. She was proud of his unselfish open-mindedness. Then a dark shadow smothered her happy thoughts; did she really want to bring children into the harsh and dangerous world they had been thrust into? What would their chance of survival be? Forcefully she pushed those negative thoughts away. Times would settle out and hopefully get better as the violent, criminal people were eliminated. She spent quiet time reviewing happenings since that fateful night weeks ago when Sam stopped and picked her up outside Carnegie. Her thoughts concluded with the couple’s recent attempt to throw them off their homesite by murder if necessary.
She snapped out of her negative thoughts, started the machine, and continued to the trailer. There was still work to be done and she’d dawdled long enough. After loading a single fifty pound feed bag, she closed and locked the trailer door. She walked to the edge of the turnaround and then ten feet into the woods to pee. While squatted, she heard a vehicle approach.
At the clearing she saw a new looking bright red Chevy 4X4 crew cab pickup with four men in it. The truck stopped abruptly in front of her as she hustled to the Kubota. She was ten feet from the four-wheeler as the men spotted her and hurriedly exited the truck whooping and hollering. They quickly surrounded her near the Kubota. A short, heavy young man about her age maneuvered behind her. The others were in their late twenties or early thirties. All were loud, rowdy, and obnoxious. She was fearful of their type. Raunchy, obscene comments were exchanged about her looks and shapeliness.
She said, “Get out of my way, I’m leaving.”
Her right hand dropped down close to her thigh holster. The younger, short, heavyset man behind her saw the move, brushed her hand aside, and grabbed the handgun before she could grip it.
Sam was growing concerned. JR had been gone far longer than it should take to get a bag of feed. However, she did indicate she needed some time to think. But she might have a flat tire or engine trouble. Hopefully, if she was walking back, he could meet her halfway. He and Smokey hustled toward the clearing at a fast, long stride walk but short of jogging.
The young man waved JR’s gun overhead and fingered the trigger. It fired into the sky; surprise showed in his expression and actions as he almost dropped the gun. “God damn it to hell. She had the safety off.” He assumed a shooting stance and fired off three more shots into the woods at a large tree. The group’s leader grabbed his hand, took the handgun, and chastised him. “It’s a Glock, Patrick. There ain’t no safety you idiot. Jack in a shell and it’s ready to go. That’s a lotta gun for a pretty, young lady.” He looked at the upper frame. “A .40 caliber even. Lotta gun.” He turned to JR. “What the hell you doing with this fancy, big bore gun lady? Gonna shoot somebody?”
Sam guessed he was slightly more than a mile from the clearing when he heard a single gunshot followed seconds later by three more in quick succession from the direction where JR would be. His pace changed to a sprint with Smokey heeling behind him. He was certain he could still run a mile flat out in just over four and a quarter minutes, even over rough terrain; especially if JR’s life might depend on it. He thought she must have been surprised by zombies or a large wild predator.
