The second time Daryl returned to the farm, it was a little harder to avoid attention. Apparently, the appearance of five people on three horses at the edge of their little pseudo-sanctuary was a notable sight, drawing literally everyone - even Lori, believe it or not - out of the house and into a clump at the front porch. He bought a minute or two by steering the entire parade towards the stables, ignoring the eyes boring into their backs in favor of keeping Randall secured on the horse.
By the time they'd all dismounted and dealt with the horses - the younger one proved surprisingly useful on that front, meeting his inquiring expression with a shrug and a casual, "Riding school" — the crowd had followed, staring at the newcomers as if having even more eyes on them would suddenly clarify things.
Shockingly, it didn't.
They still kept watching, though, even as Daryl pulled Randall (rather roughly, it must be confessed) from the horse and tugged him forward, even as Wes and his daughters stepped forward just behind him. For a second, the resulting awkward standoff felt more like a hostage situation than anything else… and then Beth stepped forward with a grin, a wave, and an oddly friendly, "Hi. I'm Beth."
Daryl took advantage of Wes saying something - probably something successfully, aggravatingly diplomatic, knowing him - to slip off to the side, the length of rope attached to Randall's hands greatly useful in steering him towards one of the farm's secondary barns. A few minutes of observation later - call him paranoid, but there were enough walkers in one barn that it wasn't unbelievable that there were more in a different one - and Randall was lashed to something sturdy and bolted into place.
The door swung open with a creak, Rick's familiar figure backlit by the bright exterior. "Hey. Everything go down okay?"
"Yeah." Daryl shifted, checking the knot again. "Where's Wes? The girls?"
"With the others. Shane's watching 'em, case anything goes wrong, but…" He shrugged, stepping forward and leaning against the adjacent wall. "I don't think it will."
Randall shifted, staring between the two of them with fear-tinged incredulity. "I'm right here."
"Shut up." Daryl almost wondered if he'd spoken without meaning to, but Rick's sharply-delivered kick to the kid's ankle clarified things. "Ain't talkin' to you." A rustle. "Kid say anything useful?'
"Nah. Can't get him ta shut up, but nah, no useful shit."
"You see any of the others out there? His… What, his gang?"
"No. No people. 'S quiet. Them walkers, though?" Shaking his head felt natural, so he followed through on it. "More 'n' more of 'em out there. Gettin' so thick y' c'n hardly take a step without runnin' inta some."
Rick nodded, taking long enough to pull the handcuffs from his belt before stepping forward and kneeling down. Adding the cuffs beneath the rope followed, the gesture carried out with the practiced ease of a motion done over and over again. The ratcheting click probably shouldn't have been as familiar as it was. "Why d'you think that is?"
"'S winter. Prolly runnin' outta food. Not so many people 'round."
"Yeah, well… It's not much better here. Winter's gonna be rough, and we've got three more people now… Not to mention this dumbass." Another kick to Randall's leg and then Rick was standing, striding back towards the door. "I think we've got some folks to interview, then, don't we?"