Chapter Twelve
"What's that?" the redneck questioned, eyeing the basket perched on her hip. It wasn't what he'd been expecting when he'd sent her into the tent to fetch her things.
"Laundry," she replied, arching a brow at the obvious.
His lip curled in disgust as he shifted restlessly on the balls of his feet. He stepped closer and jabbed a finger into a pair of filthy jeans with oil stains on one knee. "That ain't what I sent y' in there for." Not to mention he was impatient from having to wait while she gathered their things. "Where's your belt, woman …" He glanced down meaningfully at her waist. "… 'cause y' ain't wearing it, I see."
Carol dug through the basket one-handed and set the small arsenal on top. She pursed her lips and peered up at him from beneath her lashes.
"Lemme guess … It don't fit?" he drawled facetiously.
"It fits."
"Then why ain'tcha wearin' it?"
Carol winced, hating how he was becoming so exasperated with her. "What if it goes off?" she mumbled, frowning down at one of the pistols in a holster on the fine leather belt. "Someone could get hurt."
"First off … they ain't loaded," he admitted, fidgeting with the strap of his crossbow where it lay upon his chest. He reached for the basket and set it at her feet before snatching up the belt. "Secondly … all the weapons in th' world ain't gonna do y' a damn bit o' good if y' don't keep 'em within reach. S'why I got y' th' belt."
She gasped as he wrapped his arms around her to bring the ends of the belt together just below her navel to fasten it securely. Apparently, he had no problems with touch as long as he was the one doing the touching. She decided to file that thought away for later before she missed a pertinent piece of his instruction. "You must think my fear of guns is foolish."
Daryl stepped back to admire his handiwork and smirked. "Fear is a good thing. It'll keep y' motivated. Y' jus' cain't let it control y'." He picked up her basket and motioned for her to follow. "And don't worry about them goin' off unexpectedly even when they are loaded. That's what th' safety's for."
Carol wrinkled her nose as she squinted at him against the harsh sunlight. "It's heavy," she said, her fingers brushing over the handle of her knife and the butt of the .45 on her hip. The other was at the small of her back, the unfamiliar weight a bit unsettling.
"Stop worryin'. You'll get used t' it soon enough." He chanced a glance at her from the corner of his eye. "I suppose you're gonna wanna do laundry before I get to show y' anythin' good, huh?"
"Why, Daryl Dixon, are you pouting?" she teased.
"No! Jus' don't wanna be out here all day s'all." He wasn't looking forward to having to stand about in the hot sun while the women washed clothes and gossiped like a bunch of hens.
"I promise I'll hurry," she vowed. "It would go faster if I had some lines out here by the tree line instead of having to carry the wet wash all the way back to camp to hang."
When they entered the clearing next to the lake, he surveyed their surroundings and found himself agreeing with her logic. She'd be able to hang the clothes and have the rest of the afternoon to spend on weapons training. They could then retrieve the wash when it was dry before returning to camp.
Andrea, Lori, Amy, and a rather disgruntled Glenn were already scrubbing away at the water's edge. Carol waved, her brows shooting up in surprise when she saw the boy.
"I'ma go see if I have some twine in th' truck … Maybe string it up over there," he pointed to where the trees were thin and in direct sunlight. "You'll be ok here with your friends for a bit, and Merle's just over there with Soph."
She shielded her eyes, so she could see where the elder Dixon was instructing her daughter in the proper use of her bow. "I'll be fine," she beamed at him.
He was still reluctant to leave her as she took the basket from him and quickly found a spot between Lori and Andrea. There hadn't been any sign of Ed yet that day, but that didn't mean he might not show up to cause problems. Daryl set off up the path at a brisk walk. He needed to hurry, his skin humming with anxiety the further he got from Carol.
*.*.*
"How'd you get roped into laundry duty, Glenn?" Carol asked, pressing her lips together to hide her smile.
The young Korean hung his head as he plied a brush to a particularly dirty pair of khakis. Amy snickered beside him. "Dale, T-Dog and Glenn made the mistake of playing poker with Andrea last night. First one to lose all their chips had to do laundry for the other three. It was all her idea."
Carol shot a puzzled frown towards the blonde in question. "Then why are you out here, Andrea?"
"Yeah," she snorted, "like I'm going to let him paw through my unmentionables."
Everyone but Glenn joined in the laughter. Carol watched him speak quietly with Amy, causing the girl to blush, and she had to wonder if the boy hadn't lost on purpose, so he would have an excuse to spend time with the girl.
Carol had barely made a dent in the stains on Merle's jeans when Jacqui leaned forward around Lori to nudge her. "Carol, honey, you lookin' good today. Seems those Dixon's are agreein' with you. And little Sophia is flittin' around here like a butterfly who's just got its wings."
She grinned as a rosy blush crept up her neck. "She's happy," Carol said simply. "I'd never realized how much stress she was under before."
"Merle and Daryl aren't the friendliest people, but I dunno," Glenn said. "Are they treating you good, Carol?"
She nodded. "They've gone out of their way to help us … even to the point of bringing us to replace what Ed destroyed. They might be rough around the edges, but they have something you don't see much of nowadays … honor."
Andrea dropped the bra she was washing and stared at her incredulously. "Even Merle? I find that hard to believe. You can't mean to tell me that man hasn't tried to make a pass at you yet."
Carol thought back to the words which had passed between them that morning. If nothing else, he was mostly worried about her playing his brother false. "Honestly, no, Andrea, he hasn't."
Lori's mouth turned up into a calculating smile. "Maybe he's just like that with you, Andrea, because he likes you."
Jacqui waggled her eyebrows and used one hand to fan herself. "Go for it, honey. You could do worse than Merle Dixon."
*.*.*
Daryl felt better once he'd returned to the lake and had Carol under his watchful eye once more. However, it was getting harder to convince himself he wasn't a stalker. He shook his head at the ridiculousness of the situation. He was not a fuckin' stalker. He had no desire to do anything but protect her … and he would, he vowed. T-Dog nearly yanked the twine from Daryl's hands because the hunter hadn't been paying attention.
"Hey, man, you alright?" he asked, eyeing Daryl with concern.
"Yeah," he grunted, tying off the last of the lines. "Thanks." He knew Merle didn't care for the man, but Daryl didn't think he was so bad. He was a decent guy. Ed had proven looks could be deceiving. It was a lesson he hoped his brother would learn eventually.
"That was a real good thing you did for Carol. She's a nice lady and sure didn't deserve to be stuck with Ed's stupid ass," T-Dog said as they moved out of the trees.
"She'll be ok. Carol's stronger than she looks."
T laughed. "Specially now she's packin' heat. Next time you make a run, lemme know. Be glad to get your back."
Daryl watched the man head back to the camp with another basket for the sisters as he made his way to Carol to grab hers. He wondered how much longer it would be before the safety of their camp would be compromised. He wasn't delusional enough to think they'd be safe for long. Eventually the dead would wander from the city once their food source ran dry.
"You almost done?" he asked brusquely, feeling the eyes of the other women on him.
Carol wrung out the last of her new shirts and nodded. "All done. Just need to hang them."
"Bout time," he grumbled. "G'on … check on Soph while I hang these."
Carol nearly tripped over her feet. "You don't have to do that, Daryl. It'll only take me a minute."
"I know I don't," he replied, feeling his face heat. "But I'm sure she's dying t' tell 'er mama all about her lessons with Merle."
"You're sure?" she asked, still surprised over his kind offer. Ed would never have volunteered to do what he deemed woman's work.
Daryl just pointed, refusing to answer as he grabbed the first garment from the basket and slung it over the line. Carol flashed him a radiant smile and headed into the trees, following the happy sounds of her daughter's laughter.
She stopped a good distance from them, far enough not to interfere, but close enough to hear Merle speaking to Sophia in a calm tone.
"Straighten yer stance, Peach … that's it. Nock th' arrow." He circled around behind her, his hands hovering, ready to assist. "Lil' lower. Level out."
Carol stood as still as a statue, amazed at the hardened man's patience with her daughter, his gentle instruction to a girl who seemed to be blossoming before her very eyes.
"Good girl … Now breathe in and -"
Twang! Sophia released the arrow on the exhale and then smiled broadly as it struck the target. Merle had drawn a walker's head on the thick paper tacked to the tree and the arrow was firmly embedded in its nose. It wasn't the eye she'd been aiming for, but it was still a good shot.
She squealed in delight and rushed over to inspect her kill. "Look, Merle, it's the best one yet!"
"It was better, I gotta say. Y' sure y' ain't had lessons before?"
Sophia snorted. "Yeah, like Ed would ever let me do anything fun."
He gnashed his teeth together at the mention of her father, but quickly mustered up a strained smile for her. "A'right we're wastin' daylight. Do it again. This time I want speed instead o' accuracy. Fire every one in th' quiver before y' stop."
"But I'll miss," she said dejectedly.
Merle knelt down at her side. "What if y' out there, an' there's a bunch o' walkers … And they're after y' mom or Carl or Daryl? Say y' just stuck one o' those fuckers in th' eye, but there's another reachin' out t' bite somebody y' really love? Y' need to be fast, Peach."
"What if I can't?" she asked, her gaze wandering over to Carl where he waited for his turn with her bow. "What if I can't save them?"
"Y' cain't think like that! Yer a Dixon now and we ain't got it in us t' quit. Now what're y' gonna do?"
Sophia straightened her shoulders and adopted a hard look. "Aim for the head. Steady hands and steady heart."
Merle winked at her and climbed to his feet, checking her quiver to make sure she had all ten arrows. "That's m' girl. Now show me whatcha got."
Carol nearly shrieked as a hand briefly touched her shoulder. She turned to find Daryl standing at her side, a finger to his lips. She huffed out a sigh of relief and scooted back behind the tree.
"Didn't mean to scare y'," he whispered, watching over her shoulder. "She's good."
"She seems to have a good teacher." Sophia had nearly depleted the quiver, and though she didn't hit the target every time, she did hit the tree it was tacked to.
"She does. Who d'you think taught me?"
Now her curiosity was piqued. There was a story she wanted to hear. She only hoped she'd be able to get him to part with it. She could well imagine his older brother teaching him the ins and outs of weapons training. She wondered if she'd learn quite so easily. Somehow, she didn't think so.
"C'mon … she's in good hands," he murmured, leading her back to the clearing by the lake. "Wonder if Carl's gonna do as well. Lori coddles him too much. She needs t' ease up an' let th' kid breathe."
Carol frowned. "Can you blame her? She's terrified like the rest of us, Daryl. Our biggest fear is that something is going to happen to our children and we aren't going to be able to stop it."
"Unknot your drawers there, woman. Didn't mean nothin' by it," he retorted. "It's jus' that th' best way t' protect 'em is t' arm 'em." He looked over, encouraged to find her listening to him. He loved the way she hung onto his every word. It made him feel as if what he was saying was important to her. "Look how everyone runs around this place … most of 'em without even a knife. What if we were attacked? They jus' gonna run an' hide?"
Carol sighed. "More than likely."
"Well not me an' mine," he scoffed. He led her over to a blanket he'd spread out over a large flat rock, urging her to sit. He held out a hand and she removed the .45 from her hip, gladly handing it over. "First thing y' need t' know is how t' tear it down, clean it, inspect it, an' then put it back together."
"Yes, because you make it sound so simple," she said dryly.
He shot her a narrow-eyed look. "This is serious, woman. It will save your life one day." Slowly he tore the weapon down. If she was paying attention, she'd have no trouble putting it back together.
Carol's hands trembled the entire time, nervous as she tried to remember step by step. She didn't want to disappoint him. He only had to correct her twice. He then made her take it apart three more times and reassemble it before he was satisfied.
"Not bad. Y' need t' practice every day 'til y' can do it in your sleep." Daryl observed her closely taking note she still looked a bit green. Why was she so afraid of a weapon which would someday be necessary to keep her safe? He dug in his hunting sack until he found a box of rounds. "Here … load the magazines."
The little leather pouch on her belt held six mags, she found as she reached for them. "Why'd you choose this particular gun for me," she asked quietly as he showed her what to do.
Daryl shrugged. He wasn't about to tell her how he'd agonized about choosing the perfect weapons for her. "Tiny hands. Wanted somethin' smaller so y' wouldn't have trouble with th' grip. And th' kickback ain't too bad neither."
Carol held out her hand and frowned. "You think my hands are tiny?"
He nodded sheepishly and took one of the handguns to show her how to fit the magazine. He handed it back, and he noticed how she trembled. "Y' ok?"
She took a deep shuddering breath and shook her head, unable to meet his gaze. "No, not really."
Daryl placed the .45 in her hand and wrapped her fingers around the grip. "C'mon, y' ain't gonna learn sittin' here." He moved over to the line of tin cans he'd set up for her to practice. "Wanna tell me why you're scared?"
Again, she shook her head, unwilling to relive the paralyzing fear she'd felt the time Ed had threatened her with his own gun. "I'm trying, Daryl. I don't want to be afraid anymore." Yet she couldn't seem to take her eyes off the remaining gun in his hands.
Seeing where her gaze had settled, he moved back to her side and slipped it into the holster at her hip. He could practically feel some of the tension drain off of her. It didn't take much to piece together what may have happened with a husband like she'd had. It made him see red, but he wasn't going to let her see his temper. Not today. He wanted her to gain confidence and conquer her fears, not add to them.
He slipped around behind her and kept his voice low and even. "It's ok, just relax. That weapon is an extension of your arm. Y' control it … It don't control you." He touched her elbow gingerly, silently urging her arm up. "Adjust your grip. Rest your index finger alongside th' gun. Y' don't want t' curl it over th' trigger 'til you're ready t' fire."
Carol focused on the timbre of his voice, the smooth silk of it washing over her body to take up residence in her belly where a warmth began to grow. It chased away more of her fear and urged her to fight for the control he'd promised. She brought up her left hand to steady the right which held the gun.
"Good … now flick th' safety off an' line up your shot. Y' can do this." He tapped the sight at the end of the barrel and backed off to give her room. "And remember t' breathe." A full minute passed before she finally pulled the trigger. The kickback sent her back with an oomph into his chest. She'd altered her stance at the last second, sending her off balance and her shot wild.
His hands went to her waist to steady her, and she hung her head in shame. "I'm sorry!" her voice quavered, and she could feel the burn of tears threatening behind her lids.
He held her a moment more, trying to reassure her. "Carol, stop. Y' didn't do anythin' wrong." He set her away from him and ducked his head, trying to catch her eye. "I'm not Ed! I'm not gonna punish y' for shit that ain't your fault. Hell, I ain't the kinda man who would punish y' period!"
"I know," she said, her voice raspy with unshed tears. "It's just hard to break old habits."
Now he had a difficult time meeting her gaze. "It'll get better." He knew better than anyone the demons riding her.
Carol straightened her shoulders as she'd seen her daughter do earlier when faced with Merle's challenge. If Sophia could find her own confidence, so could she. "Can I try again?"
"Yeah," he said, a quirk lifting the corner of his mouth as he noticed the determined set of her jaw. "Have at it. Just remember t' plant your feet this time."
She emptied the magazine over the next twenty minutes, taking out all six cans but wasting more ammo than necessary. "I suck at this," she groaned, borrowing one of Sophia's favorite words. "I couldn't hit the broad side of a barn."
Daryl snorted. "What, y' expected t' come out here an' hit th' mark dead center every time? Ain't happenin'. You'll get better. Jus' gonna take practice."
He made her reload the magazine and set the safety again before he allowed her to holster it once more. She felt a little better now that she had some knowledge as to what she was supposed to do.
Carol started for the tree line, but his soft voice halted her. "If you're not in the tent or with me and Merle, y' better have that belt on. I don't want nobody sneakin' up on y' unawares. Got me?"
She shivered at the thought of Ed taking her by surprise. "Yeah … Yeah, I do."
*.*.*
"I have to cook this … mystery meat since it's done thawing. I don't want it to go bad," Carol murmured distractedly as she continued to go through the small cooler. "Does that girl ever label anything? How am I supposed to know what it is?!"
Daryl yawned where he lounged against the log by the campfire sharpening Carol's knife. "Dunno. Why don'tcha open it an' see? Might be pork or beef."
Carol grinned Cheshire-like. "Oh, wouldn't that be a welcome change," she sighed.
"Hey!" he grunted in mock offense. "Y' knockin' all th' fresh game I bring y'?"
She scooted over to sit at his side, leaning her elbow down on the log to peer down at him with bright wistful eyes. "Just think of it, Daryl. Herb crusted pork chops with baby red potatoes and braised spinach … "
His stomach gave an audible growl. "Damn, woman, you're killin' me! Do y' have t' talk about stuff we want but ain't likely t' get no time soon!?"
"Mmm or a juicy prime rib with -"
She giggled as he shot her a disgusted look and reached over to swipe the wrapped meat from the cooler. He set it on his lap as she peered over his shoulder. At the last minute, he snatched it away. "Naw, I don't think I'll show y' now since y' teased me."
Carol snorted. "C'mon … I'm the one who's going to have to cook it."
He eyed her with a sideways look and gave in, peeling back the white butcher paper to reveal a whole cut up chicken. "Yard bird," he grunted.
She squealed in delight and took it from him, rewrapping it for later. There was one more identical package in the cooler which she wasted no time in making sure it was more of the same. "I don't think I've ever been more turned on by the thought of roasted chicken. Now I feel guilty."
Daryl almost swallowed his tongue. He did not need to think about her turned on. Fuckkkk! "Uh … Why, I mean, what do y' have to feel guilty about?" he asked thickly.
"Well, weren't you planning on giving those rabbits to Lori and Andrea to cook for everyone tonight?"
"I guess. Still don't see why that should make y' feel guilty." He couldn't seem to grasp her logic when he was still stuck on thinking about her turned on remark.
Carol chuckled. "Because while they're fumbling about trying to come up with new ways to prepare rabbit, we'll be sitting here enjoying succulent roasted chicken." She climbed to her feet to rummage in the crate of canned goods and leftover root vegetables Daryl had stored there.
*.*.*
Merle was only half awake when he finally stumbled from the tent. After bow lessons with Sophia and Carl, he'd had a chance to catch a three-hour nap. He was still exhausted, and he had to take first watch due to Daryl's hunting trip in the morning.
"Where th' blue blazes y' find chicken durin' th' fuckin' apocalypse?" he asked around a mouthful of mashed sweet potatoes. "Mighty fine eats, by the way, lil' sister."
"Compliments of your friend Marty." She wrinkled her nose playfully at their atrocious table manners. Sophia dangled a fork in front of Merle's nose which he promptly ignored, setting his spoon aside and tackling his chicken with his fingers. "There's more, Merle. You don't have to eat quite so fast."
"Not bad manners, jus' good food," he mumbled.
Sophia giggled. "No … It's bad manners."
Daryl slowed down a bit, casting Carol an unsure glance as he sucked grease and spices from his fingers. "Y' got your gear ready for tomorrow?" he asked quietly. "We're gonna head out before first light."
"I think so. I just need to ask Lori if she'll take Sophia while we're gone."
Merle's head shot up. "Why? She can stay with me. I'll look after Peach."
"It's ok, Merle. I promised Carl I'd try to spend the night. He wants a rematch since I thoroughly kicked his butt last time at Uno. Besides, wouldn't you like a night off?" Sophia asked as she began gathering up their empty plates.
He sent a faint smile her way, but she didn't like the expression he wore when he looked over at her mother. "Y' don't trust ol' Merle t' look after 'er while y' gone? That it? Scared I'm not fit to take care o' her?"
"Of course, I trust you," Carol said sincerely. "You and Daryl have done nothing but protect us since you took us in. But this was Sophia's choice to stay with Carl. Not mine."
Daryl shook his head, amazed to see his brother's butthurt soothed so easily by the two ladies they'd adopted. Maybe there was hope yet for Merle Dixon, he thought. Then again, maybe not …
As Carol and Sophia busied themselves cleaning up and then gathering up their things to go bathe, Merle chuckled lowly. "So … Yer takin' Mouse out in th' woods … fer two days … t' teach 'er how t' track an' hunt. Alone … Jus' the two o' ya."
Daryl flushed a startling shade of puce. "Shut up, asshole."