Willa sighs in relief. “Oh, that’s wonderful.”
“It is. Oh, there we go. Better get to work.” With that, he makes his way toward the truck, limping a little as he goes.
Several new men are also present, Willa notes. One jumps down from the flatbed where he’s been looking at the cargo. He’s tall, with a kind face that’s vaguely familiar to Willa. He strides over to a woman and two children clustered with all the other new arrivals and runs a gentle hand over the hair of the two girls, all the while looking into the woman’s face.
Willa can read the language of that look and those gentle touches. He will miss these people, who are probably his family, but he’s also happy that they’re here. It’s a sad thing that the world has come to this.
Introductions are made, but everyone knows names will be forgotten within minutes. There are too many people and too much excitement for anyone to remember. That will come later. A quick huddled meeting of minds takes place and a plan sorted out. The truck’s forklift is put to use, but the path to camp is too steep even for that. They will lay out the materials in orderly piles and then take each piece by hand up to the clearing. It will be grueling, but very worth it.
Willa thinks of all the trips, all the work, and of the approaching winter. She also looks at all the new hands to help with that work and smiles.
*****
The men stay for two days to help, but it’s also a long goodbye for two of them. Mark, the one with a wife and two daughters, is a public figure, which is why he looked so familiar to Willa at first sight.
He’d like to stay, but it would raise questions. He’ll return later, preparing the way for that departure. He kept his family in hiding all this time. It must have been so stressful.
Strangely, most of the new women aren’t accompanied by family at all. Three of them are friends, nurses who worked with a company that transfers nurses all around the country on contract. They were far from family when The Dying came, and quickly realized they were a rarity. They’ve been secretly living in the basement of the hospital.
Two are unaccompanied children, both in their early teens. Their mothers were taken in The Dying, but happenstance brought them together and luck brought them to the attention of one of Beau’s contacts. Pure luck, but good luck for them.
Their group, which some have taken to calling the Mountain Tribe, or just the Tribe for brevity, has more than doubled in size in one fell swoop. It’s joyful, but also fearful. Food will be a problem. Not yet, but someday.
The truck is filled with crates and bags and more supplies to safely store the food. It’s enough for the winter if they’re cautious. Best of all, there really is a small woodstove, the kind normally used in cold-weather tents or cabins. Squat and square, it’s without ornament and perfect for one of the outbuildings. Their dugouts might be warmer than open air, but nothing can beat a proper building with a woodstove.
They have a big dinner for the men and newcomers the night before the men leave, one complete with songs and much laughter. It’s not quite a full-blown celebration, but almost. These men are almost all park service or friends of park service personnel. Claire’s father is one of them. She’s even allowed her hair to be combed and is wearing proper clothes and shoes. It’s obvious that this wild and unruly child is perfect in her father’s eyes. He’s perfect in her eyes too.
She was the first to join the original group brought by Beau. In truth, if not for Jeff’s need to find a safe place for Claire, none of the Tribe might be here. Her father and Beau organized the chain of support beyond the park that created this safe space. He keeps all the others quiet, the location a secret, and a supply chain for food and gear humming along.
Willa, for one, is very grateful he has a daughter he loves so much. Even if she is a half-wild creature who throws fish into her lap.
The next morning, Willa is surprised when Claire shows up for breakfast with her hair nothing more than a bristling cap. Crew cut doesn’t quite describe her new haircut, because it lacks the precision. Her father grins as he runs his hand across his daughter’s scalp, the dark hair gleaming as the dappled sunlight reflects off the freshly shorn strands.
Glancing at Bee, who stands watching the pair with a rather bemused expression, Willa raises her eyebrows. Bee smiles, shrugs, then makes the scissor motion with her fingers. It’s only a guess, but Willa is pretty sure Claire is the motivating force behind this new shorn look. At least they won’t have to chase her with a brush anymore. Ellie will be relieved. They’d all begun to feel like poor guardians given the girl’s dirty condition most of the time.
The camp seems very quiet after the men leave. Empty too. There are double the number of people living here, but it still seems quiet after the joviality of the last few days. The silence will fill with noise again. It always does.
Now, they just have to get ready for winter.
And Willa has to do what she promised. The pointed looks from the women are like an alarm clock blaring in her ear that she’s late for work. But timing. Always timing. This isn’t the kind of thing a person simply blurts out in passing.
As much as she might wish it never would, the right time eventually does present itself. The frame of the first building is well underway, the milled wood bright when the firelight flares enough to reach that far. She and Beau are seated a little away from the fire,
