Then Winters left. Lora was devastated. “Clara… I’m so sorry. I was looking at the painting and she came up behind me.”
There was an angry welt on one of Clara’s otherwise flawless cheeks. Her fingers went to it and she flinched. “We’d better get to work.”
Lora could feel the sudden coolness and cursed her carelessness. She had learned one thing, though… and that was how quiet the fat woman could be.
After they finished the master bedroom, the girls returned to the entry hall. And it was there, while mopping the floor, that Lora heard a commotion out front. Orders were shouted, the door opened, and a man in western clothing entered the house. A footman said, “Welcome home, master,” and was ignored. Two men followed Voss into the office, the second being Mr. Trenton. It was the first time Lora had seen the food lord, which made the moment notable.
The rest of the day passed slowly, and when it came to an end, Lora was glad to slip into bed. Then, with the covers pulled up over her head, she could think about Miss Silverton and the message from her father. She sobbed and hoped no one would hear.
Once the training period was over, Clara was assigned to the sewing center, a job that represented a step up, and Lora was left to do the cleaning alone. The work was hard but the monotony was even worse. So she developed a routine, let habit take over, and sang to herself. The one bright spot in each day was the opportunity to spend a few minutes with Miss Silverton. And for her part, the other slave seemed to welcome such interactions, although it was easy to see that a great sadness hung over her.
Was that sadness any greater than Lora’s? Lora knew it wasn’t, but for some reason Miss Silverton’s emotional well-being seemed to be more important than her own. Perhaps that was a function of the other woman’s kindness, her beauty, and the aura of mystery that surrounded her. Whatever it was transmitted itself to everyone who came into contact with her. Everyone except Voss, that is… He kept her like a bird in a cage.
A number of days passed. Five. Or was it six? It was hard to keep track. In any case, Lora had finished cleaning Miss Silverton’s suite and was about to leave, when the other woman asked for some fresh flowers. Getting flowers wasn’t part of Lora’s official duties. And it wasn’t clear if the other slave could order her to do so. But Lora wanted to please Miss Silverton, and a chance to visit the garden was too good to resist.
So Lora said, “Yes,” placed her tools in a utility closet, and left the mansion through the back door. It was a beautiful day and Lora gloried in the feel of sunshine on her face, the pungent odors all around, and the sweep of the achingly beautiful blue sky.
The garden was located on the south side of the house and dedicated mostly to growing herbs, vegetables not cultivated on Voss’s farms, and flowers for the mansion. After rounding the corner of the house, Lora spotted Mr. Elkins, the overseer in charge of the grounds. He listened to her request, nodded, and went to cut the flowers himself, still another indication of the way people felt about Miss Silverton.
So Lora was standing there, waiting for the flowers, when a six-man work party appeared. They were dressed in grubby clothes and accompanied by an overseer Lora didn’t know. She heard chains rattle as they approached and began to pass by. Then, as one of the men looked her way, Lora experienced a moment of shock. It was Larry Pruett! The same Larry Pruett who had been in charge of the dairy operation at the commune and was constantly trying to touch her. The last time Lora had seen the man, he’d been running for his life. And now she knew his fate.
As their eyes made contact, Pruett opened his mouth. He yelled “Lora!” flinched as the tip of a whip caught his right ear, and brought a hand up to cup it. Then Elkins was there with flowers in hand, the work party disappeared, and the incident was over.
Lora thanked the overseer on behalf of Miss Silverton and beat a hasty retreat. She had work to do, and the encounter with Pruett left her feeling flustered. That was silly, of course, since the same rules that controlled her life controlled his and would keep him away from her. Still running into Pruett was unsettling somehow, and even Miss Silverton’s effusive thanks weren’t sufficient to make her feel better.
The next two days passed without incident. Then, on the morning of the third day, they came for her. She was cleaning one of the guest rooms when the door opened and a man entered. A second merc stood in the hall. “Are you Lora Larsy?”
“Y-y-yes, master.”
“Come with me… Lord Voss wants to speak with you.”
Lord Voss? Lora couldn’t imagine why Voss would want to speak with her. Had she done something wrong? No, she couldn’t think of anything. And that made the summons even more frightening.
The mercenaries escorted her down the main staircase to the entry area and from there into Voss’s office. The food lord was present, as was Mr. Trenton and a raggedy-looking Larry Pruett. Voss was seated behind a large desk, and his piercing blue eyes seemed to look right through her. He nodded to Pruett. “Do you know this man?”
Lora could feel some sort of trap closing around her but didn’t know what it was. “Y-y-yes, master.”
“Good. Now, Pruett claims that you belonged to the same commune that he did before the Crusaders raided it. And that’s how you wound up here. Correct?”
Lora was mystified. Why would Voss care? There was no way to know. “Y-y-yes, master.”
“But before that, before you arrived at the commune, you were part of another community. Something called the Sanctuary. A place that, according to Pruett here, houses a secret depository of seeds. Precious seeds representing plant species from all over the world. In fact, he claims the Sanctuary is an underground city powered by a nuclear reactor. Is that true?”
Lora felt something verging on panic. Pruett knew about the Sanctuary because the leavers had spoken of it when they used the seeds to buy a place in the commune. Now she found herself in the peculiar position of having to decide the fate of people who hated her. People like Matt, Becky, and Kristy. But there were others too… Innocents like Cory, Mr. Wilkes, and Mrs. Olson. If she said yes, Voss would go to the Sanctuary, where he would enslave or kill the entire population. So there was only one thing she could say. “No.”
A thunderous look appeared on Voss’s face. “No? So Pruett is lying?”
That was when Pruett produced a horrible screeching sound and took two steps forward. A merc drew his revolver with lightning speed and fired. A .45-caliber bullet struck the back of Pruett’s left leg and pulverized his knee joint. He screamed, fell, and clutched the wound. “Oh, my God… Oh, my God… It hurts!”
“Yes, I’ll bet it does,” Voss said as he circled the desk. “Now, tell me the truth. Does the Sanctuary exist?”
“Yes!” Pruett insisted. “She’s lying. Please… help me.”
“I will,” Voss promised as he pulled the hammer of his pistol back. Lora closed her eyes, heard a loud boom, and opened them. Pruett was dead.
Voss lowered the .45 and turned to look at her. “Listen carefully… You could be an overseer. You could live a life of luxury. All you have to do is tell me where the Sanctuary is.”
A layer of gun smoke hung in the air. Lora could taste it. She struggled to swallow the lump in her throat. “No.”
“Throw her into the hole,” Voss ordered. “Oh, and send a message to Mrs. Winters… We’re going to need a maid over here. There’s blood on the floor.”
Chapter Eleven
Most of the gang were still asleep when Tre rolled out of bed, got dressed, and went looking for something to eat. Spartan though the hideout was, it felt good to be back, especially with about four tons of newly acquired weaponry stashed deep in the main mine shaft.