On a Dark Horse-26

Timeline: Bombs + 37

A/N: Yes, I'm monkeying with the timeline just a teensy bit. Again. I'd say "so sue me," but someone might take me seriously…

Disclaimer: Speaking of suing, don't. I know I'm playing in the sandbox created by & belonging to others.

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The raid of Rogue River was accomplished within five days. With almost seven hundred volunteers from Jericho and another four hundred from Hayes, the buildings were emptied of useful things quickly. This included all school textbooks, every book in the town, including those in abandoned homes (and not-so-abandoned homes), and all of the large storefront glass along major streets. The logic in the last was that they could make more greenhouses with the storefront glass, especially if they created them the same way as the ones they'd put in not long ago, in the style of the orangery. Given that the glass was tempered, at the least, it would hold up well in the weather. That suggestion had come from Shawn Henthorne, which had everyone puzzled. When did he get an idea? But no one, not even Stanley Richmond, could argue with the validity of the suggestion. Between new greenhouses and the sheer amount of compost-infused, nutrient-rich "dirt" they were churning out regularly (thanks to an avid fisherman's suggestion of adding worms to the compost piles and stirring frequently), they'd have more crops grown in the next few months than Jericho had ever seen.

The nurseries and greenhouses outside people's homes yielded hundreds of useful plants, including some exotic herbs that, if nothing else, could be used to disguise the taste of the repeated repast of freshly-butchered chicken. The real treasure-trove was in a section of town that housed the Bohemian set, a group of people who were "left of normal", but never called stupid. These were the craftsmen and Renaissance fair artisans who had studied the ways of forging, creating glasswares, pottery, and other useful, handmade products. Skylar and Lisa, with the assistance of several happy females of various ages, packed the salons.

Rogue River gas stations hadn't been emptied, so they used the resilient fuel-bladders found at the airport and 55 gallon drums found in various industrial stores throughout town to haul the fuel back to Jericho. No one was using gasoline if they could help it. It wasn't the dictate of the mayor or the council, but the appeal to conservation - right now, they had enough fuel to make sure the most important buildings could have power if the wind died, and, if need be, send for help or run away from something horrible. More than enough to use the tractors for harvest & planting seasons, though many farmers were talking more about using horses and mules for ploughing. The cautionary note was that no more fuel would be coming into town anytime soon, not that they knew of. That, along with Miss Maddie's insistence they think ahead to the possibilities, think sideways to other ways of accomplishing the same tasks, had prompted a town-wide, self-imposed moratorium on gas consumption for almost everyone on personal business.

With the trucks hauling back and forth to the planes, the people emptying the stores & homes, and the determination to survive anything that was thrown at them, the same determination that had helped their ancestors settle the town, the planes began taking off about three hours after landing. They managed an average of 24 planeloads per day, with pilots napping between each load. Once again, night shifts were instituted courtesy of one Jonah Prowse, of whom many things were said, though in a relatively good-natured way of grumbling.

The work was constant, consistent, and well-planned, which meant the town was emptied quickly. Everything went to Jericho to be catalogued, which endeared Jonah's 24-hour workday to none of the clerks and at least two threatened to personally put weevils in his flour-shipments. No one would actually do such a thing, since that would be counter-productive and wasteful of good flour, but it was fun to think about. The shipments may have gone to Jericho, but everything they had retrieved from the train and Rogue River was available to the people of Hayes as well, since they had been instrumental in retrieving the goods. No one in Jericho begrudged the contributions to Hayes, any more than the people of Hayes begrudged sending flour and sugar and other things to Jericho. The system of mutual support was considered to be more advantageous than competition or animosity.

New Bern hadn't been available yet. There were two groups of highwaymen operating on the road that made the trip by a single car untenable. A trip was scheduled for the next day. Heather, although she was offered a chance to go help negotiate had refused. She wouldn't say why, but it was clear that she was not happy with her hometown. Not even Jake could tease the reasons from her, and he tried every method at his disposal. Although Heather enjoyed his attempts to weasel the information from her, she was in no way forthcoming. She did, however, tell him he was welcome to try again, as many times as he was capable. Since she had so adamantly refused, it was decided that Alex Jenkins would head negotiations, since he had several friends on the city council there and was widely considered one of the most even-handed men in the area.

J*J*J*J*J*J

After the last shift had reported in late in the evening, Jonah walked into the council meeting, tired, yes, but more than pleased with the many things they'd found. Granted, a few pranksters had emptied the two adult shops of everything, even if they couldn't identify some of the things or figure out what purpose they could have, no one was entirely certain who had cleaned out the pet store of every last item, including some for exotic pets that couldn't survive a Kansas winter, and someone else had snagged every single record or CD found in the entire place, but maybe there was something useful in there, after all. If not, as Johnston said, they'd figure out something to do with the stuff.

The meeting was called to order, and various subjects were quickly discussed and dispensed with. The systems they had put in place were functioning beautifully, with only minor hiccups here and there, but nothing that could cause problems. Hayes, having implemented the same systems, found that the smoothness of the new practices hadn't dimmed personal responsibility or replaced individual freedoms with the "greater good", i.e. the people in charge of the town. There was a realization that each person had a place, a role in the survival of the group, and for the most part, no one felt squashed or overwhelmed by the situation. Everyone, even the smallest children, helped in the daily chores.

The elderly citizens of both towns were the ones people came to for advice, for help in creating or recreating something that had been used years before, but modern technology had made obsolete. Skills that were in danger of being forever lost were returning to the younger generations, and no one thought it was a poor outcome. The most interesting outcome was that any idea was considered and debated, then if the idea was found to be worth attempting, a few people would do so. If the idea panned out, then it would be implemented elsewhere, too - such as the conversion of the hotel to a bathhouse & barber-shop. The ice-cream parlour was powered up and used to store milk & other dairy products. It had been the decision of the farmers that Bonnie's new position as head of the old-fashioned dairy required a new, custom-made barn/dairy setup. This one had all of the equipment she needed brought in from the two dairy farms, but much more room for the combined herds, another idea that hadn't been easy to sell, but had been considered and finally agreed to, since there were several good reasons to combine the herds and brands were brands, after all.

Finally, after the twenty-seventh variation of "things are going well - and someone had the idea to include…", the nominations for sheriff came up. Three names were on the list, and there would be a vote by the town, of course, for the new sheriff.

Jonah was only half listening by that point, thinking instead of what had to be done to get an envoy safely to New Bern and back. He was considering the best person to lead the expedition when he heard his name.

"Jonah Prowse," said a younger man.

"I'm sorry?" the man in question said, coming back to the meeting.

"You're the third nominee for sheriff," said the man. "There was no small concern about this, but the overall consensus is that you're good for the job, despite a rather colourful past."

"Or because of it," May White said. "It's not like Reilley was a saint, you know."

"Very true," said another of Reilley's generation. "The tales I could tell…"

"Wait a minute. Hold on," Jonah was having some serious trouble wrapping his head around this. "You want me, me, to become a cop? Here?"

"Well, that was the general idea," Johnston said, dryly. "Only you'd be the cop in charge."

"Have you lost your fucking minds?" he asked, not bothering to check the question. Eyebrows went up around the table. "There's no good reason that-"

"Other than clearing the roads," said one woman.

"That wasn't-" Jonah tried to say.

"And getting those girls back here for help," added an elderly man.

"But anyone-" he tried again.

"And getting those mercenaries captured, after what they did," Titus added.

"It wasn't anything-" But he was doomed.

"Or keeping that Peyton boy safe, putting him where he could get help," Miss Maddie added.

Jonah stopped trying to interrupt, but sat there, a childish voice in his head squawking "But I don't wanna be the sheriff, Johnny!", as if this were a game of cops-and-robbers he'd played as a kid.

"And coordinating with the security council - which now has a name, I should add," Serena Givens stated. "Jericho Rangers, in the spirit of the Texas Rangers. When Hayes and Jericho fully integrate their security patrols, we'll become the Tybee County Rangers."

After a few more mentions of the things he'd done in the past month or so, Jonah finally raised his hands in surrender.

"All right. You win. I'll let my name stay in the hat for the election. But," he said, giving them a no-nonsense, no-compromise look, "if I actually win this damned thing, God forbid, then you'll have to accept the way I do things. We're not in sweet-old-Kansas anymore, Dorothy. New situation, new rules, new ways of applying law and order."

"But you will recall that this is the U.S., not some Iron Curtain country with the KGB breathing down its neck, right?" Serena Givens. Who else?

"Of course. But I'm not a nit-picker. If two guys want to beat the crap out of each other over something stupid, I figure they'll learn more from the bruises than me going in and breaking them up. If it's actually serious or could become serious, then I'll step in, but not a moment before." He looked around. "There's just too damned much to do."

"Oh, I think we can stand it," said Johnston grinning. He was enjoying this. Of the people present, he and two others, Titus and Miss Maddie, could get the better of Jonah on occasion. He was a slippery little bastard, though Johnston thought so in the nicest way. Jonah wouldn't see it that way, of course, but that was what made them such good friends.

"Speaking of elections," Jonah said, smirking at Johnston, suddenly remembering something, "what do you say we hold off on this sheriff's election until your own opponent returns? Put 'em both together?"

Johnston scowled at his friend and nemesis. "You little-" he bit his tongue, then continued. "That will not get your name off the ballot, Jonah."

"No, but it will make it a hell of a lot more fun for me," Jonah said, grinning unrepentantly.

Johnston muttered something under his breath that had Miss Maddie lean over and smack his hand.

"Shame on you, Johnston Green." Her voice was unmistakable, as was the snicker Serena Givens was trying to suppress.

At least Gray Anderson hadn't returned yet. The election could wait. The meeting was about to dismiss when Jimmy came running in.

"Gray's back! He's back from Topeka." He stopped suddenly and stared at them, waiting. He didn't even know how to ask the question he needed to have an answer to.

"Well, send him in here," Johnston said, every eye now riveted on the doors. Jimmy rushed out and there was a tense minute as they waited for Gray Anderson to file in.

Gray Anderson came in, obviously hurt and exhausted. Laureanna went for her medicine bag, which was never far from her, and walked down to meet Gray and start looking over his injuries.

"So, what's Topeka like?" an impatient woman asked.

"Got near Topeka about two days out. Hundred miles out, ran into a group from FEMA. Got some news. The governor's gone. No one's heard from him in weeks. There was pretty heavy fallout from Lawrence, and the capital has a ring of National Guard troops around it, preventing anyone from entering without being from FEMA. Caught a ride on a FEMA truck, just to get in to try and see what was going on, but we never got there." He paused and sipped some water that Laureanna handed him. "We were about fifty miles from the capital when some guys ran us off the road. The truck was hauling water for a FEMA camp outside the city. There was nothing else there, but the driver…they beat him to death. On the side of the road. Just…" His eyes went distant and he was quiet for a few minutes.

"I came to on the side of the road, then made my way to a FEMA camp and started working my way back. It's taken me over a month, but I'm back. It's hell out there. Hell on Earth…" He stopped speaking and shook his head over and over.

"Well," Laureanna said, "I think you need to get to the clinic and then home to rest a while. We can talk more tomorrow, since Topeka's not going anywhere tonight."

Gray gave a half-smile that faded as quickly as it appeared. "Not that we know of, anyway," he added, his voice melancholy and exhausted.

J*J*J*J*J*J

Johnston looked at his wife as they were preparing for bed. She'd lost weight over the past month. Then again, so had he. He was never slender, like Jonah was, but now his younger physique was more evident - barrel chest, strong torso, well-muscled hips and legs. He hadn't lost much of his strength as he aged, he'd just added a layer or so of extra padding. Some of the padding was still there, but much less than had been a month ago. Was it only a month?

But Gail…between the diet and the constant work, she'd gotten back close to the size she'd been when Jake was running her ragged. Boy never could stand still. Even as a newborn, he moved in his sleep. Come to think of it, the only time Jake could stand being still was when he and Johnston were in a deer stand, not talking, not moving, just waiting. Johnston would never complain about his wife's figure, he'd enjoyed it for years, but the neckline of that pajama top slid a little more to the side, showing more of the curve of her neck and shoulder…and Johnston did appreciate a well-turned curve.

As nice as it was to notice these things, he had something else to discuss with her. Even though that button was down lower…Right. That other subject. What was it again? Oh, yes.

"Gray's going to want that election even more now," Johnston said to Gail as she brushed out her hair. It was still red, but now little hints of grey were creeping in at the temples, and it was an awkward length. She'd decided to let her hair grow out some, instead of trying to keep it trimmed every two weeks. He loved to watch her brush her hair.

"I thought you didn't want to discuss the election," Gail said, echoing his earlier comments. She enjoyed giving him a little hell, but he was the devil himself about elections. She'd know. She'd lived through enough of them.

"No, I don't," Johnston said, sighing heavily. "But I know the man. He's going to cause more trouble over things he knows nothing about, hell, even over the few things he does know about. And I am not looking forward to refereeing for the match between Skylar and Gray over the mine, either."

Gail turned and walked over to her husband. Her attire was in no way sensual, but something about the way the flannel pajamas caressed the curve of her hip managed to distract him. There was that obsession with curves again. 'Course, he really couldn't blame himself for it. His wife had always been able to capture his attention. Even when he didn't want her to. She was always distracting him when she moved like that, graceful as when they were young. Er. Younger. He was not getting old. Nope. Not happening.

"I thought she was turning out to be an incredible manager, really knew the business," Gail commented. It was really a request for more information.

"She is. She does. Changed production to pull more for the Epsom-style salts, the medicinal salts. We've got more than enough refined salt for well into the next year, even including salting fish and meats for Hayes and even New Bern, if we can get in touch with 'em. She's also looking at adding a few of the by-products they get out of the mine, like certain minerals, can't remember the name of 'em, for the craftsmen and professionals to use. Something about abundance and myriad uses - her words, by the way."

"Then what's the problem?" Gail waited while Johnston gathered his thoughts. He didn't go in for long conversations much. When he did, she made sure to pay attention. He was more the one-liner and simple, straightforward answer type of man. It could be frustrating, but he more than made up for his lack of words with his actions and presence. Especially his actions.

"The problem is she's a sixteen-year-old-girl who, as far as Gray knows, isn't entirely sure what the mine produces, much less the processes that turn out the tradegoods. And you know Gray," he said, sighing again. The man was convinced he had all of the answers, even when he didn't know the questions. As it was, Johnston was glad he wasn't from around Jericho. It made it more acceptable for him to remain impatient with the man. If he'd been born here…Well, no one from around here had quite that level of arrogance on them, but if he had been born here, Johnston couldn't let himself be irritated with Gray so quickly. It was one of the few times Johnston liked outsiders coming in to Jericho.

"Well, Johnston, the only thing I can say is that all he has is words. On the other hand," she added, touching on something Johnston hated, "you'll need to say something, too." When he opened his mouth to protest, she covered it with her hand. "Not immediately, not a lot, but something. Believe me, the people of this town know how good they have it now, and why. We'll have plenty of food to get us through the winter, thanks to the supplies we got from the trains and the greenhouses that will start yielding in late November. Then we'll get spring sowing done, continue working with the greenhouses, the herds. We've got sheep, cows, chickens, and turkeys. Two farmers were even raising rabbits for meat supplies - two new litters already. Just remind the people of what we've already done together, the council and people who know what's really happened will take care of the rest."

"Yeah, and when Jonah's the subject of Gray's speeches?" Johnston knew it was a touchy subject and one Gray would harp on indefinitely. Ad nauseum. In fact, he was getting slightly nauseous just thinking about listening to Gray drone on about Jonah. No, not drone. Wax hysterical. Gray was a talker, but he wasn't as much of a doer. Nor was he inspirational. The sad fact was the man had more potential than anyone had seen, but because of his personality flaws and his tendency to move in a reactionary manner, he couldn't manage to lead. Not really.

"I think he'll ride that horse, but he'll never even know when it throws him. Jonah's done too much lately to have the town turn against him. More than one person has mentioned they'd think Jonah would be a great sheriff - and none of them have said it around the others in my hearing." She didn't quite understand Johnston's amusement about that, but she had a point to make, and she was going to make it whether he was chuckling or not. "Maybe he does have an interesting past, but people our age knew Jonah growing up. Most of the younger ones are finding it hard to remember why he wasn't wanted in town. Sometimes, I wonder - and I know why! It's not that…" She lost the phrase and changed her sentence. "It's just that he's done so much to help us all, and he hasn't been trying to hide anything."

"He didn't hide anything when he was stealing from the mines, either," Johnston snorted. "Stevens wouldn't prosecute." Johnston still didn't understand it, but it was Stevens' mine, after all.

"For whatever reason Stevens had and you don't know. Besides, when the man trusted his daughter to Jonah? When all of the worst things were going on? We saw that date on Stevens' will. That was back when Gray had just come in, demanded Jonah's dismissal, and the mine was in complete chaos. That's more of a vote of confidence than anything." She smiled at her grouchy bear of a husband and flicked back the blanket on the bed. She didn't see Johnston step back and watch her bend over the bed, but then, she knew he was there. Johnston didn't see her smile, either, but after so many years, they didn't have to see each other to know. Or to continue the conversation. "Besides, Skylar won't let that stand long, and neither will the Carmichaels. I wouldn't be surprised if that little girl made her opinion known loudly and unequivocally on the subject."

Jonah chuckled. "Can't wait to see Gray's face when he finds out I'm basically rubber-stamping Skylar's decisions about the mine. Or that he's got only the amount of say she allows him in the mine itself. And she's not one to hand power over easily. If he's lucky, she'll let him take inventory, but she'll have someone watching him like a hawk."

"Mm. No love lost there, I know," Gail said, remembering the girl's reaction when Gray would come into town hall while she was there, with or without her parents. She really didn't like him. Gail understood, since her reaction had been exactly the same, but she'd never been able to figure out why. Maybe Skylar had. "But why did you laugh when I said people were talking about making Jonah the sheriff?"

Johnston chuckled again, thinking of Jonah's reaction to his nomination for sheriff. "You can't say a word, since it's not public yet, but he's on the short list for the sheriff's position. One of three, and the other two don't have a snowball's chance in the Sahara of making it. As for Gray and Skylar, it'll be interesting times," Johnston smiled down at Gail, stepping forward so that she was close enough to touch, "but that's enough about them. It's getting pretty chilly out there."

Gail smiled, her eyes twinkling wickedly. She didn't have to wonder what Johnston was up to. She knew quite well. "It is. We'd better keep warm." She was more than willing to table their discussion in favor.

"Learned something about keeping warm in the Army," Johnston mused, manufacturing a thoughtful expression and sliding his hands around her slimmer waist. "Involved body heat."

"Really?" Gail said, raising her eyebrows and tilting her head to the side. "Maybe you can explain it to me."

"Not much to say," Johnston said, pulling her closer and nuzzling her conveniently exposed neck. "Better demonstrate."

The sound of soft, feminine laughter drifted under the closed bedroom door, but no one heard. Eric wasn't home and April was in their bed, down the hall, alone. Jake hadn't slept in his room since that night he'd spent with Heather.

J*J*J*J*J*J

Skylar, the subject of much discussion elsewhere, was in her bed at Jonah's the pillow firmly over her head. It wasn't nearly as bad this time, but there was just enough noise to keep her from sleeping. And this time, yet another pair of voices were coming through the ventilation system.

If she didn't know better, she'd be convinced she'd been transported into the circle of Hell where rabbits were entrapped in human bodies.

Worse, the rabbit-people were perpetually horny.

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