The man turned at Matt’s approach and their eyes met. Matt gave him a friendly wave and kept coming, hands well away from his own 1911 at his hip. “Hey there, welcome to Aspen Hill.”
“I’m here, then?” the man asked, looking a bit relieved but still nervous. “I’ve been trying approach people to ask, but they’re all looking at me like I’m a rattlesnake coiled to bite so I’ve kept my distance. Not a very friendly place.”
Matt looked pointedly at the man’s hand still on the revolver. “Funny thing. You see a strange man skulking up the street, clutching a pistol and looking like he’ll lose it and start shooting passersby at a sneeze, and it might make people antsy.”
The newcomer glanced down at his hand, then flushed and snatched it away, tucking it into his pocket. “It would, I guess,” he admitted sheepishly. “Sorry. There’s just so many—” he cut off and lowered his voice. “That is, everyone here is armed.”
“With good reason, given everything that’s happened,” Matt replied. “Don’t you think?”
“Absolutely. It’s just in the refugee camps you didn’t see many weapons. And before the Gulf burned, a town full of people carrying openly would’ve been blasted in the media as a bunch of nutjobs. I suppose my mind’s stuck in old patterns.” A brief look of pain crossed the man’s features. “Not to mention I’ve got my own reasons to be antsy around armed strangers, given everything that’s happened.”
“Sure. But I’d say you’ll never be safer than in a town full of good people, most of them armed and ready to defend themselves.” Matt held out his hand. “Matt Larson, Mayor.” It still felt weird to call himself that.
“Mayor, eh? Quite the welcome wagon.” The man removed his hand from his pocket and shook firmly, his nervousness rapidly fading and replaced by a determined look. “Thomas Lincoln.”
Matt hadn’t expected to know the stranger, so the name made him jump slightly; not only did he know the man, but he’d been expecting him. “Trent’s dad!” he said, his smile warming as his handshake became more enthusiastic. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Thomas looked relieved. “You know my son, then. Were you with him fighting the blockheads?”
“Briefly, before I was called back up to help in Aspen Hill. He was in the squad led by my friend Trevor Smith at another location, so I didn’t have many chances to talk to him. But from what I’ve been told he was one of the more dependable and competent men on the squad, and everything I’ve seen of him since he moved here has proven that.”
The man looked pleased at the praise. “He sent word to our family in the camps, told us Aspen Hill was willing to welcome us in. He was going to stay here and start building a home for us when he arrived, although he told us to send for him if we thought we needed his help making the trip.”
Matt’s smile widened. “Well speaking as the man who extended that invitation, you certainly are welcome.” He turned and pointed down the street. “See that log cabin going up at the end? Your son wanted you all to have a proper home, more than a stick-and-mud dugout. We’re all a bit busy at the moment, but we’ve been helping him when we find the time.”
“I appreciate that.”
The older man sounded sincere, but Matt couldn’t help but feel the weight of a half-finished cabin with a family ready to move in. He shrugged a bit sheepishly. “Since you’re here already I’ll try to gather some men who can find the time sooner, rather than later.”
“That would be a great kindness.” Thomas glanced back at the western ridge overlooking the valley. “I left my family behind, just so I could check this place out and make sure it was where we were going.” He looked a bit sheepish himself as he smiled good-naturedly. “And not full of nutjobs.”
Matt laughed. “Go get them while I run and tell Trent the good news. He’ll want to meet you coming in.”
The older man nodded and hurried back down the trail, edging warily around Deb at its junction to the road. The woman eyed him with equal wariness as he passed. Shaking his head, Matt started down the road for the Lincolns’ half finished cabin.
He was so preoccupied with the good news for Trent that he barely noticed the medium height, solidly built man approaching until he stepped in front of him. “Hey Matt. Got a minute?”
“Of course!” Matt said, grinning and clapping his friend on the shoulder. He’d been so busy with his duties to the town that he’d barely seen the man. “How’ve you been since you got back, Raul?”
Gutierrez grimaced. “Could be better, actually. I’ve slept in my tent the entire time. All the other volunteers had friends and family to take them in, and Trev even made sure the freed prisoners had a place to stay. Nobody’s given me anything to do, so I’ve just been helping out where I can.”
This news filled Matt with genuine dismay. However busy being Mayor kept him, that was no excuse for forgetting friends. Especially someone he and everyone else in town owed a huge debt to.
Raul Gutierrez had been with the squad under FETF Administrator Riley Ferris shortly after the Gulf burned last fall, when the relief organization’s representative had come to take over management of Aspen Hill. The young soldier had left with Ferris about a month later, only to come back next spring with the former administrator and a much larger group of well armed men, who’d turned to banditry over the winter.
Led by his conscience, Gutierrez had defected from the raiders almost immediately after their arrival and asked Aspen Hill to take him in. Matt had supported the idea, in spite of a lot of doubt from townspeople and defenders, and at his insistence they’d given the former soldier a chance to prove himself.
And Gutierrez had. First against the brutal raiders he’d deserted then fought, then against the blockheads when Aspen Hill sent volunteers south to help the military, and in every other way the town needed him.
“Why didn’t you come to me?” Matt demanded. “You would’ve been welcome with my family until we could find a more permanent arrangement.”
His friend grimaced. “Your family’s already more than overcrowded, and so is everyone else I would’ve thought to ask. As for coming to you, the few times I’ve seen you you’ve been running around like a chicken with your head cut off, more things to do than you have hours in the day to do them. Besides, I didn’t want to ask you in your capacity as Mayor and risk you being accused of favoritism.”
“Favoritism nothing,” Matt snapped. “You risked your life for this town, the least we could do is put a roof over your head.” He took the man by the shoulder and started leading him between houses towards the large tent that served as town hall, a temporary detour before settling in the newly arrived Lincolns. “Come on, let’s put you on the list of people needing a house.”
Gutierrez jerked to a halt, expression frustrated. “I’m already on that list, man! At the very, very end of it. Last in line.”
Matt shook his head. “That doesn’t sound right.”
“It’s the protocol you and former Mayor Tillman set up. Houses are given out to those who need them most in descending order. Orphaned children first, then widows with children, then groups of widows, then single women without families, and so on.” His friend gave him a slightly bitter smile. “All the way down to young, healthy former soldiers with the skills to provide for themselves and decent supplies.”
That, unfortunately, sounded about right. “Well we’ll find someone to take you in,” Matt insisted, reaching for the man’s shoulder again. “Come on.”
Gutierrez refused to budge. “That’s not why I’m here. I’ve already planned out my own house and started work on it. I know you’re busy, but I just wondered if I could get your help for a few hours to do the stuff I can’t do alone.”