Well, this is it. The fourth in the Graveyard Dirt & Salt series. It's a little bit different style. I wanted to change things up a little. Um, I looked into when the show was set and it was fairly vague, so I back-dated it a bit. Please, don't nit-pick about this minor detail too much. Enjoy! Review or don't, as always. Just read and enjoy!

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Rose of Jericho

Milton's Historical Logs #83

Friday, July 11, 2014

Today I finally finished fixing the solar panels the soldiers from Tennessee ruined. For weeks since the attack on the convent we have been running on half power, but now we should be back to full power. Which means we can finally start digging into the microwave popcorn reserves and heating the soup without heating the entire convent. (We really need to invest in an electric stove for the convent kitchen. I'll make a note of it in the next run Daryl and the Lieutenant make for supplies.)

Daryl has taken to expanding his shed, which I disagreed with and informed him that it would probably be easier to just tear it down and rebuild a proper house, but he seemed to quite adamantly dislike that suggestion and told me in no specific terms where to go and how to get there. I have decided to keep my distance from him for a few days, just in case.

I took a quick inventory of our remaining food stores and if Carl's group can't find food in Atlanta we may face a hard, dark winter. By my calculations we could lose up to half of our people.

My concern as well has been medications. We are running low on anti-biotics, even counting the stuff I've made, but Carol's beehive, having taken a hit in the fight with the soldiers, is still intact enough and the Queen has survived, so hopefully we can treat minor wounds with the honey they produce.

While Daryl works on his 'home', the Lieutenant has been working high on the roof of the church, much to the perturbation of Grace, who constantly frets that the man will fall to his death from the steep roof. I personally rigged the Lieutenant up there with ropes and pulleys, so I can vouch for his safety, though if Grace ever reads this, I completely respect her choice in worrying and she's right about the Lieutenant being mad as a dog.

I've taken on that young boy Toby from Sister Ruth's children, he's a bright boy who shows promise of making a sharp and astute scientist. I wasn't expecting for him to suddenly become my protégé and responsibility, but I'm grateful he's one of those children who doesn't need constant supervision. I wasn't prepare to clean diapers or any of the other things that one must do with children.

Rick is making rapid recovery after his stroke, he still has some difficulty in communicating speech, but I've been helping both him and the Kowalski from Delgado's in their rehabilitation.

Delgado had asked if the younger Kowalski could join us long enough to get his mobility back into the leg that was shattered bad. Delgado at least sent food over enough to supply us with food to feed Kowalski and a little extra for our efforts.

Kowalski's injuries were bad, but I'm also helping him with speech therapy, but he continues to prefer non-verbal communication, so I've taken it upon myself to teach him ASL. He enjoys this greatly, but so far I'm the only person who can communicate back and forth with him. He's a surprisingly smart young man and to my knowledge he is a lot less war-like that I first surmised. More introverted and thoughtful.

Once he gets old enough I'm hoping to begin lessons in sign language with Langdon, but as of yet the toddler is too young. Still, I'm progressing on his hearing aid problem, so perhaps I may be able to help Kowalski as well, since he has about thirty percent hearing in one ear.

In all, for the moment, things at the convent are calm and progressing nicely.

Current home population: 27 (One added number from Delgado's group.)

Current away population: 6

Current forecast: 65º, Partly Cloudy

Current mood: Calm (but that could change if Daryl find's out I've been trying to talk some sense into Carol about that slanty shanty they live in.)

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**Carol**

"Goddamn son-of-a-bitch it all to hell!"

From her position on the ground, Carol peered up at Daryl as he stood on the roof of their shed, trying to tear shingles off with a crowbar. Settling her hand on her stomach, she arched her back and shielded her eyes with the other.

"Maybe Milton was right," she suggested. "Maybe we should just tear it down and start anew."

"Milton's a goddamned egg-headed know-it-all with more mouth than balls," Daryl snarled. "This is our home, it just needs some fixing. I'm not coming down until these shingles are off or Milton show's his damned face so I can whoop his ass for wedging his nose in where it doesn't belong."

Unsure why Daryl was being so stubborn about the shed, Carol sighed and shifted on her feet. The added weight of her pregnant belly was beginning to get to her, especially the last week or so with all the running around and repairing they had been doing to the convent. Seemed she hardly ever got time to just sit, not that she would normally complain, but she was carrying around twenty extra pounds of weight and soon she would be full on thirty pounds heavier. It was a lot of weight to constantly drag around, especially when you were running after rambunctious kids trying to get them to settle enough for a few lessons under the magnolia tree in the yard.

Nadir seemed intent only on the lessons on knives, Annie was more interested in Boo the dog, Olivia wanted to have a twenty-four hour tea party, Toby wouldn't touch any of the weapons except the WWII Luger, which he explained in great detail the use and manufacturing of, Dean always mysteriously disappeared for the lessons and Elise would work on her pretty charcoal drawings, but didn't seem to pay much attention. Carol and Grace not only did their best to teach the children how to stay safe (Carol handling those lessons mostly on her own), but they took it upon themselves to teach the children about history and literature and art. Daryl didn't seem to understand why those were necessary, but Carol had reminded him that it was where they came from. That civilization was born of art and beauty, that stories and tales lived on long after they would be gone. That just because their civilization had fallen, the children couldn't learn about life through works like Moby Dick or The Outsiders. That Of Mice and Men was just as relevant now than it ever was.

She had even caught Annie reading Gone With the Wind to Olivia and Nadir as the two girls played tea party and Nadir sat nearby weaving childish hats and baskets from river reeds. And even though Annie faltered on some words and made up rough estimations of what she thought others were or meant, she still found joy in reading something from the old world.

Carol knew it was important to teach the children to protect themselves, but she also knew that it was important to pass the torch to the children. To remind them to uphold the ways of how it was. They could be civilized, Grace had once said in argument to Daryl, in an uncivilized land.

Once, as the Lieutenant had sat in on a lesson and read Yeats to the children, Carol had even caught Dean sneaking up behind the tree to listen in and it brought a smile to her to know the boy wasn't completely savage. That his heart yearned for poetry and soft words.

But lessons were over for the day and Carol stood below Daryl on the roof of their shed, watching as her Dixon struggled with the stubborn old shingles.

"Whoever pinned these up here used eighty thousand damned nails for one sheet," Daryl continued to grumble.

Moving to stand at her side, the Lieutenant mimicked Carol's pose, hand to his eyes, other on his flat stomach.

She nudged him with her elbow and he grinned, addressing Daryl. "What's, ah…what's going on up there, cabri?"

Before Daryl could respond there was a groan, then a crack and Daryl disappeared out of sight.

Pushing into the shed's interior carefully, Carol and the Lieutenant found him in a heap of broken roof slats and shingles, the small Dixon brother snarling and cursing and twisting to get to his feet like a trapped beast.

"New roof, huh?" The Lieutenant asked calmly.

Daryl glowered and stomped out to find material to fix the roof with.

"You distract him and I'll just burn it down for you," the Lieutenant said to her. "We'll split the insurance money."

"Maybe you can talk some sense into him, he…he just won't listen to reason."

"Mais, if he doesn't listen to reason, he's not going to listen to me." At her insistent look, he smiled graciously and set off after Daryl, Carol following. "Cabri?" The Lieutenant called over to the man as Daryl bent over, going through their lumber pile. "Listen…why are you so determined to repair this spit stand when you could just build a whole new home here on this spot?"

Daryl glowered at him. "Are you going to help or are you just going to get underfoot?"

"Look, Cash found a pile of field stones behind that old plantation nearby, why don't you just take this pile of sticks down and set yourself a good solid foundation for a good solid home."

"Because there's nothing wrong with our home," Daryl snarled.

Carol glanced at the Lieutenant, both of them realizing what the problem was almost immediately.

It was the Lieutenant who spoke. "I see, okay. Daryl this…" he paused.

Carol stepped in, moving to place her hand on Daryl's bicep. "Daryl, this will always be our home, just…a lot less likely to crash down around our ears." She squeezed his arm gently. "Don't you want to build your family something that'll last longer than a year or two?"

He scowled.

"Tell you what," she said. "We can salvage parts of our home and put them into our new home. Like, the door and the windows, they're not rotted like the rest of it." She caressed the side of his face with a feather-like touch. "Come on, it'll still be our home, just…safer," she finished with a manipulative touch of her hand to her swollen stomach and a small, sweet grin.

He dropped the piece of lumber he was holding up and sighed.

Carol beamed, knowing she won. Pushing up onto her toes, she kissed him and bounced back. "Thank you! It'll be nice and it'll be ours, I promise."

Daryl shifted on his feet and eyed the shed.

"Well, guess we should start ripping it down," he said to the Lieutenant.

The Cajun frowned. "Nah, I have a lazier way."

"Don't you have a roof of your own to fix?" Daryl asked.

"Yeah, but I'm not going to miss out on burning down the house."

Carol looked at the evil gleam in the Lieutenant's eye with slight amusement.

"What the hell are you doing to my shed?!" Grace declared, joining them by the searing heat of the flaming building.

"Fay did it," Daryl said quickly.

"It was Carol's idea," the Lieutenant passed the buck smoothly.

From where she sat on a pile of their things that had been dragged out of the shed, Carol gawped in betrayal at the Lieutenant, before looking at Grace. "It's under control."

Grace folded her arms. "Carol, honey, are these men bothering you?"

"Just the tall one right now," Carol replied with a grin.

Tsking, Grace eyed the flames before, stepping back. "Well, you boys shouldn't place blame on pregnant ladies and…just mind the fire."

The Lieutenant darted forward and caught Grace before she could go, pulling her back against him and trapping her there.

"Where are you off to, petite pie bavarde?" He teased.

"Well, unlike you, you lazy layabout, I have work to do."

Burying his face in her dark hair, the Lieutenant smiled and even from where she stood by Daryl, Carol could see the blissful look in his eyes.

"I am working," he protested. "See those flames."

"The ones Carol instigated?" Grace demanded.

"Mmm, she's kind of a tricky thing, isn't she?" The Lieutenant asked.

Carol bowed her head and smiled as Daryl wove his arm around her waist and moved in closer to her.

"Carol is no more trickier than most women."

"Ah, so you admit that women are tricky."

"The female of the species is always deadlier than the male, honey." Grace admitted with a small, gracious smile as the Lieutenant's large hands fell to her stomach.

Daryl's did likewise over Carol's and she leaned back against him, watching the fire as it consumed the shed.

"Where are we going to store the things that were in that shed?" Grace asked suddenly.

The Lieutenant angled his jaw. "Huh, didn't think that far ahead."

"Group of delinquents," Grace murmured as Carol buried her laughing face into Daryl's shoulder.