The cork pops and Shannon fills each of their wine glasses, which are sitting on the coffee table, half full.
"Is this becoming an annual tradition?" Carol asks as she lifts the glass and looks at the light from the fire penetrating the crimson liquid with splases of pinkish-white.
"I certainly hope so. Though I guess the day is coming when we won't be able to find wine."
"I hear the Hilltop is starting to make it."
"Really? They're wasting their grapes on that?"
"They expect it to fetch a lot in trade to Jamestown." Carol takes a small sip of wine and then sits down on the couch.
"Well, they're probably not wrong there," Shannon admits. "Jamestown men do like their alcohol." She sits in the armchair and crosses her legs at the knee.
"Jamestown men?" asks Carol, nodding to Shannon's wine glass.
"This is only my second bottle in a year." She sips and lowers her glass. "And Garland's not getting any of it. You and I are drinking the whole thing tonight."
"Well, I can't argue with you when you've set your mind to something." Carol shrugs. "So I guess I'll just have to go along with the plan." She smiles and sips.
A knock at the door has her setting her glass down on the coffee table and grabbing the bowl. Shannon's not far behind. Sheriff Earl is at the door, with an eight-month-old Benjamin facing forward in a baby carrier on his chest. The little tyke sports a dark green cap with a brown feather, which sits slightly askew on the top of his blond hair, and his blue eyes are wide open with awe. A long-sleeve forest green onesie covers his arms and legs as well.
"Oh my God!" Shannon coos. "How cute!"
Carol takes the baby's little foot between her two fingers and shakes it. "Hello, Robin Hood."
Benjamin squeals happily and pulls his foot away.
Shannon nods to Earl's black cowboy hat. "And are you the Sheriff of Nottingham?"
"I'm just Dad tonight. And you don't have to give him anything. He'll just choke on it. I just wanted to show him off." Earl smiles proudly down at the boy who is the spitting image of the deceased Captain David Cummins.
"Can I give him a teething ring?" Carol asks. "I have a clean one, still in the plastic. Never opened."
"That would be great, actually. He's still working on his first tooth."
Carol digs around in the big bowl until she finds it, pulls it out and hands it to Earl, who doesn't have a bag or pumpkin on him. He rips the package open right there and hands the ring to Benjamin, who makes short work of putting it in his mouth. Carol takes the trash and wishes Earl and the baby a Happy Halloween.
[*]
When the men take Sweetheart and VanDaryl to the widow Kelly's cabin, Thomas is there. "I brought Kelly and Mrs. Merriweather some dinner," the deputy explains when he answers the door. "I made too much stew by accident."
"Again," Kelly says with a light smile as she approaches with a hand on her pregnant baby. "You have a lot of dinner preparation related accidents."
Thomas shrugs.
"Harry, who's that at the door?" Mrs. Merriweather calls from inside.
Kelly winces and Thomas closes his eyes.
"It's Halloween, Mama Merriweather," Kelly replies, disappearing inside. "And that's Thomas. Not Harry. Harry's…" She doesn't remind the senile old woman that her son is dead. "It's Halloween. The kids are trick or treating."
Thomas ends up handing out the treats to the kids before wishing them all a Happy Halloween and shutting the door.
"Mrs. Merriweather's having fewer clear moments," Garland says as they walk away. "At least she's in good hands, it seems. Kelly's stepping up. Thomas will, too, and not just because he probably wants the girl. He's a good man. A kind man. You don't find much of that in this world."
"Saved Carol," murmurs Daryl, thinking back to that gunshot wound in the forest long ago, before they knew Jamestown existed, when Thomas played medic and stopped her bleeding. "'N then he almost got her killed by that cult by bein' a dumbass and gettin' captured."
"Well, if you're going to choose one of those two to dwell on – "
"- Yeah," Daryl interrupts. "A'ight. Fair 'nuff."
They trick or treat at the cabin of Jeremy and Olivia next. The young couple's baby Hope is six months old and sleeping in a sling across her mother's chest. "We'll take her trick or treating next year," Olivia says. "I think she'd just sleep through it this year." The kids get jumbo crayons – red for Sweetheart and green for VanDaryl. Daryl wonders how they found ones that hadn't melted and resolidified repeatedly into a mishappen mass. He makes a note to keep Sweetheart away from the cabin walls with that thing.
The men go around to the other side of the cabin, to the second entrance – Sheriff Earl's half. Rosita opens the door with a hand on one hip and a bowl in the other. Daryl rocks back in surprise.
"Earl took Benji trick or treating," she explains, "so I agreed to hand out treats."
"Thought the mailboat went back yesterday?" Daryl says.
"Yeah, but clearly I didn't leave on it, Einstein."
"You're moving here?" Garland asks. "I suppose Earl's told you that you need to submit a resident application and you'll officially receive citizenship after -"
"- I'm not moving here. I'm going back on your ship when it goes to the trade fair in two weeks."
"All passengers have to be approved by the Council," Garland tells her.
"Earl said it wouldn't be a problem, that you reserved two slots for non-Jamestown passengers, and Enid's the only other one going back on that ship."
"True, it won't be a problem, but you still need to get it approved."
"I will. I already put in the application. And I'll work for the two weeks while I'm here. Patrol. Watch. Mechanics. Whatever." Sweetheart looks up eagerly at the bowl Rosita holds in her hand. "But if anyone's moving," Rosita continues, "it'll be Earl. I'm not living permanently in a cabin with no electricity or running water when I can live in a house in Alexandria."
"I'd hate to lose my sheriff," Garland says. "And isn't Alexandria getting full?"
Rosita shrugs. "Not my house. Candy moved in, but she's just taking up space in Eugene's room. Father Gabriel's got a room, and Siddiq and his wife have one. Earl can move into mine. And there's a study in our house that could just as easily be Benji's bedroom. Hell, we could still put someone in the attic if we needed to."
"I was thinking more about your resources," Garland replies. "You don't really farm."
"We garden. We have chickens. And rabbits. And I hear we're getting one of your pigs in trade at the fair, to make little piglets with the wild one we caught. We're doing just fine."
"Has Earl been talking about moving? He hasn't said anything to me. To the Council."
"If he moved," Rosita says, lowering the bowl so the eager kids can take a toy, "and I'm not saying he definitely will, it wouldn't be until Benjamin is weaned from Olivia. That's another ten months at least." Sweetheart takes a small, dusty, Beanie baby kitten and drops it in her bowl. "You've got plenty of time to find a replacement. Earl says Santiago would make a good Sheriff."
Garland sighs. "I was hoping this alliance would gain us talent, not lose us it."
"Well, you'll probably get Dianne eventually, won't you?" Rosita asks. "She can fight, hunt, patrol, watch."
VanDaryl rummages through the bowl and grabs one toy, drops it in his pumpkin, and then grabs another. When he grabs a third, Garland scolds, "Just one!"
"He can have as many as he wants," Rosita says. "You should see how much Earl looted for Halloween. I've got two more bowls full when this one runs out."
Hearing this, Sweetheart takes another toy, a wooden spinning top, tries to bite it, clearly finds it unpalatable, and drops it in her pumpkin. Daryl puts a hand on her back and guides her away. "C'mon." He lifts her up and puts her in the red Radio Flyer wagon because they're done with the cabins in the fort, and the Indian village is too far up the path to toddle. Garland puts Van Daryl in as well, and the little boy falls backward into Sweetheart as Daryl lurches the wagon forward. Sweetheart laughs and pushes VanDaryl back up into a sitting position.
"Pumpkins're already more n' half full," Daryl notes, "And we ain't even hit the village or the dorms yet. Might have to crack out the pillowcases." Two are pooled in the wagon at the moment.
Garland smiles. "You kind of like this, don't you?"
Daryl shrugs. "Didn't get to do it as a kid. Mean, I did do it as a kid. But not with my pa. He just stole m' candy if I didn't hide it under the porch."
"I keep forgetting what an upgrade this life is for you," Garland mutters. "I suppose it is for me, too, come to think of it. I mean…I had a good childhood. And I miss the comforts of the old world. The technology. I miss my sister. I miss being able to go for a walk outside the gates without having to stick my knife in the heads of cannibals. But I saw my share of monsters as a detective. And I didn't have a wife who loved me. And I certainly never would have been mayor of Richmond."
"We ain't done bad for ourselves," Daryl agrees. "Fuck, who'd of thought it?"
"Fwuck!' Sweetheart shouts from the wagon. VanDaryl imitates with a "Ffffffuuuuuh," which comes out like he's blowing raspberries.
"And my son would never have had such an educational godfather in the old world, I'm sure," Garland deadpans as they swing right and head to the first hut in the village.
