Red River Blue

Chapter 92

Six Months Later

Merle slapped at his small alarm clock, shutting it off before it could wake River. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and briefly considered staying in bed and forgetting the reason he set his alarm so early in the first place. River was sleeping soundly, her back turned to him and her leg hiked up over the giant pregnancy pillow that was the only thing allowing her to sleep comfortably these days. Merle slid his hand under the blanket, resting his palm flat against the rounded swell of her stomach. He felt movement inside, and then a hard kick against the gentle pressure he was applying with his hand. River didn't stir from her dreams. And Merle wondered as he always did, just how in hell she was able to sleep with a tiny miniature of himself doing karate inside her body.

Merle gave River's belly one one affectionate rub before he pressed a kiss to her sleepy head and tucked the covers in around her. He set his clothes out the night before, so that he wouldn't have to rattle around the room looking for them. After quietly pulling them on, he headed down the stairs and made himself a strong cup of coffee. A handgun and a knife were already strapped to his belt. He had a rifle slung across his back. A small bag was hanging from his shoulders, packed with the same things they always packed for short runs outside of town. Water, granola bars and a basic first aid kit. He hoped he wasn't going to need the kit.

Harley used a different path every time she came and went from town, sneaking back to her well hidden campsite. She was good at hiding. But Merle was better at finding. And before long, Merle was following a much more well worn trail. The one he knew Harley must be using to get most of the way to town. Before she split off and came in from a different direction each time. She varied the times she visited as well, in the hopes that she would be able to gather supplies and bolt before anyone noticed her.

To an untrained eye, the small campsite looked abandoned. Only the well used firepit revealed just how long Harley had been living there. Her supplies were hidden high in the trees. And her tent was also suspended well out of reach. Merle could see the camouflage fabric, nestled in a thick crop of leafy branches. From the looks of it, she was raising and lowering the tent with a crank that she rigged to a thick strand of rope. Merle was worried that she might already be awake and gone from her small camp before he got there. Tracking a moving target would take him longer. But from the sagging fabric of the tent, he could tell that he arrived early enough. Harley was still sleeping inside her tent. Merle thought about just sitting down and waiting for her to wake up and climb down on her own. But patience was never his strong suit.

"Harley!," he called up. "Get up and get down here!" Merle's loud voice broke the silence around him. A few birds flew from a nearby tree, rousted by the unexpected noise. There was some movement inside Harley's tent. The audible sound of her ripping the tent zipper open was followed by her arm. She thrust her hand out of the tent, displaying her middle finger for her father's viewing pleasure. Then she jerked her hand back inside her tent and zipped it back up.

"You either come down on yer own or I'm gonna cut you down," Merle warned.

"Have fun climbing up this tree one handed!," Harley screamed back. Merle shook his head. Harley was stubborn as a damn mule and clearly determined to act twice as stupid as one too.

"I'm not climbin'," he informed her. "I'll shoot straight through your rope and drop you like a fuckin' rock!"

"You won't do shit!," Harley yelled back, her voice not sounding quite as confident as it had when she told him to have fun climbing the tree. She was well aware of how good a shot Merle was. He was more than capable of carrying out his threat and shooting her out of the tree.

Merle slung his rifle off his back. He fired off two shots into the air. He didn't actually aim for the tent rope. But Harley didn't know that. She ripped the zipper down and poked out of her tent, grabbing the crank and lowering herself slowly to the ground. Her face was a mask of anger as she climbed out and stood up. She was clothed in a giant thick poncho, which Merle guessed she was sleeping in to keep warm instead of using a blanket. Her hair was twined into one long braid that was falling forward over her shoulder. There was dirt smeared across her face. It was hard not to look at her and feel sympathy for the girl. All the pain and hurt of what happened was still showing plainly on her face.

"Time to come home," Merle told her. In case she was thinking about making a run for it, Merle started edging in closer to the girl.

"Fuck you!," Harley spit. "You spent my entire childhood in the bottom of a bottle and now ya think yer gonna tell me what to do? GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"

Merle would have cringed at her words if he wasn't already prepared for them. Being so nasty that people backed off her and let her leave town was the same tactic Harley had been employing for months. But it wasn't going to work today. And it certainly wasn't going to work on him. Merle had been called a lot worse in his life than a drunk and shit father.

"Time to come home," Merle repeated. He took another step closer. Harley was coming home. Today. Even if he had to drag her the entire way. Harley took a step back, her baggy poncho swinging a little with her movements. Merle watched her, feeling a pang of real worry for his daughter. Something was off about her movements. They weren't as fluid or catlike as usual. Either she was injured in some way, or she was weak from lack of food and water. Merle felt guilty for his next thought, because he knew that whatever was wrong with her, at least it would make it easier for him to subdue Harley physically if it came to that.

"I'm not going," Harley said, taking another step back. She wasn't watching her step. Merle could see if she took another step in that direction, Harley was going to tangle her leg up on her tent rope. He was planning on trying to talk sense into her. But quickly decided this was the best chance he was going to get to catch her. Merle darted forward. Harley moved back, attempting to dance out of his reach. But like he knew it would, her leg tangled on the tent rope and she stumbled. He grabbed her. But she fought him hard. They both ended up wrestling and pulling at each other on top of her tent.

Harley's poncho flipped up as she smacked and clawed at her father, trying to free herself from his grip. But Merle not only had a firm grip on her, he was also on top of her, pinning her lighter body to the ground. Then just as suddenly as he grabbed her, he let go. She heard his sharp intake of breath, and then a few choice curse words.

Merle didn't get off Harley. But he sat up, taking most of his weight off her. His eyes widened as he stared down at the large rounded swell of her stomach. Her jeans were being held together with a hair elastic threaded through the buttonhole. And her shirt was rucked up, no longer large enough to cover her swollen midsection. Harley immediately moved, yanking her thick poncho down to cover her stomach. But it was already too late.

"Yer fuckin' pregnant," Merle said, his voice full of shock.

"No I'm not!," Harley screamed back. "Get the fuck away from me!" Merle backed up a little, letting her scramble backwards on her ass. She pulled her poncho back around herself, slipping her arms inside it wrapping them around her body. He thought she might make another run for it. But instead she just sat there, rocking back and forth slightly. She wasn't crying yet. But her bottom lip was quivering.

Merle scratched at the stubble on his face. He looked at her eldest daughter, unsure of what he ought to do to help her. He was prepared for a fight. And for the angry words Harley shouted at him. But he was not prepared for this bullshit. He was not prepared for the sight of Harley's swollen belly. Or for the full on mental breakdown it looked like she was ready to have. The last time Merle saw his daughter cry, she was still in pigtails.

"It's alright," Merle said, resting his hand on her shoulder. He was surprised Harley allowed the contact. Instead of smacking him away like she normally would, his light touch on her shoulder was the catalyst that released the ocean of tears inside her.

"It's not alright," she sobbed. "Nothing's alright! He's fuckin' dead! And just look at me! Tell me how any of this is alright!"

Merle sighed. Harley had a valid point. Things were pretty far from alright. He just said that because he didn't know what else to say. Emboldened by the fact that he wasn't immediately attacked the moment he touched her, Merle moved closer and wrapped his arm around his daughter, pulling her half into his lap and holding her against him. Harley buried her face into his shirt, her entire body shaking with the force of her sobs.

"Yer right," he admitted. "It's not alright. But stayin' away from everyone that loves ya ain't gonna help. Believe me 'cause I've tried that shit before. And it never made me anythin' but more fuckin' miserable."

Harley's breathing eventually slowed down, returning to normal. But Merle held on to her until she finally released her death grip on the front of his shirt. She lifted her poncho, using the corner of it to mop up her face. Merle climbed to his feet, helping Harley to hers once he got his footing. Then he tossed an arm around her shoulders and started walking her back towards home.