Paul Kirk - Devastation Point

“C’mon, McLeod… one of us has to show our hand. I’m in a defensive position here—it can’t be me.”

“What are you asking me, Connor Mac?”

“I figure you didn’t just waltz in here. I have to assume you have at least three, maybe even four men in position. Probably with horses.”

“Is that what you figure, Connor Mac?”

“Are you and your son hungry, McLeod? Huh? What about your other men? They hungry?”

“What do you—”

“They’re out there waiting for your signal, still smelling them eggs, and salivating.”

McLeod stared for a second—he laughed uproariously, clapping his hands together. Face turning red, he laughed once more, enjoying the sound. Beside him, Jason smiled, though he still seemed uncomfortable all the same.

“We could eat, Connor Mac,” answered McLeod after catching his breath.

“There might be enough eggs left in that pot to feed three or four men for breakfast—depending on how hungry you are. And besides, you might find the eating pretty good—I made those eggs myself.”

“Just how many guns are on me right now, Connor Mac?”

“McLeod, I’d feel a lot better if you’d bring your men in for a bite. That way, they’d be accounted for and we could go about the business of getting to know one another.”

McLeod gave his son a nod and the boy let loose with a sharp whistle and a small hand wave. Face turning serious, McLeod studied the surroundings.

“You know, Connor Mac, I’m taking a helluva a chance right now.” There was an element of nervousness to his voice.

“But, John, I think you got the sack to take that chance. But, more importantly, you have an honorable way about you, McLeod… it’s the main reason you’re not dead right now.”

While John McLeod’s nervousness didn’t disappear, neither did it escalate and the men waited patiently at the foot of the porch stairs until they heard the unhurried footsteps of more than one horse.

Eventually, three horses appeared on the driveway, each with an armed man and each man’s weapon in an unaggressive posture. They moved their horses slowly while they scanned their surroundings quickly. Their faces were filled with caution and one man held back several yards from the others, more cautious and wary.

“Connor Mac, my guess is you’ve got one hidden in the old Ford over there. It makes sense tactically—it’s what I would do.”

“You military, McLeod?” asked Connor without taking his eyes from the three new men.

“Sorta. I’ve had a lot of exposure.”

“Sorta?”

“It would take a good deal of explaining.”

“I see.” Connor noticed that the three men looked very fit and more than qualified to survive in the world’s extreme conditions. What impressed Connor more was the fact that these hardened men would so readily agree to the instructions of John McLeod and his son, instructions that might easily get them killed. Connor’s estimation of McLeod rose significantly.

“These are you men, McLeod?”

“They are. They’re good men, Connor Mac… don’t fuck with ’em. Trust me, they’ll live to tell about it.”

“Hmm…”

“And, please excuse my language, its very rare that I use such profanity, but it’s the best and most suitable word choice given the circumstance.”

Two of the three newcomers had stopped their horses near Jason’s horse. They sat uneasy in their saddles, unsure if they should dismount or remain in position. The third hung back, scanning the area carefully. Dismounted and using his horse as a last line of defense, he was ten yards behind the other two and showed a definite hesitation to join them, but did so anyway.

“Who’s the anti-social one?” asked Connor.

“That’s BB,” answered McLeod.

“He looks a little warm.” Connor made reference to the brown duster that BB wore. It was a heavy piece of clothing that would usually be considered inappropriate for such a warm day.

“He wears that all the time—it doesn’t matter what the temperature is. That leather has saved him from too many knives and has the marks to show it.”

“Hmm, is this all your men, McLeod?”

“Yeah, Connor Mac. Are we good?”

“Yeah, McLeod, we’re good. I’m about ready to call mine in. Maybe we can make something outta this meeting of the minds.”

Connor grinned and held out his hand. John McLeod smiled at the gesture and grasped firmly. After parting, Connor sent several hand signals to Marty, Roger and Cody, indicating they were to come in as they deemed fit, given the circumstances. Glancing briefly up the driveway toward the woods, he knew Snuff would take longer since he’d sent her around to outflank them, as a final line of defense. She would take her sweet time; knowing he would want her to do so until he gave her the official all-clear sign. He would let Rhonda know to stand down as they approached the porch.

“I’ll see you guys in the morning,” said Kevin. He gave the fire another stir with the fire stick, concentrating the embers as close to the center of the pit as possible. The clan considered Kevin the “fire master” and he took the designation seriously. It wasn’t as if nobody else tended a fire, but Kevin enjoyed doing it, the rest of the clan were happy to let him do it, and he was efficient at it.

“Good night, Kev,” said Andy.

“’Night, Kevin,” added Terry. The activity around the fire had died down and everyone had gone back to bed a half-hour before except for these three.

Kevin leaned the fire stick against a nearby tree and walked to the cottage. Terry and Andy watched Kevin, noticing his slightly off-kilter stride. Kevin was either tired or tipsy—probably a little bit of both.

“What time do you think it is?” asked Terry. She leaned into Andy on the bench.

“Three,” answered Andy. “Maybe three-thirty.”

“It’s getting late,” she said with a touch of nervous energy.

“Yeah,” he replied, squeezing her shoulders.

The fire popped a few times and they sat for another few minutes, comfortable with each other.

“Are you and I sharing a bed tonight, T?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I’m planning to make sure you’re mine.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less from a MacMillen.”

“Just so we’re clear.”

“I must admit, I’m… lookin’ forward to it,” said Terry.

“Good. How about you go on in and check on the kids. I’ll see you in a little bit… after I finish this beer. I still have a few issues to sort out in my head.”

“Okay, but don’t be all shy about it.”

“I wasn’t planning on being shy.”

“Good.”

“Go on,” he said, “get some sleep.”

“I won’t wait long, Andy.”

“C’mon. Move it, T. I’ll see you shortly.”

“Yes. I think I will.”

“Go.”

“Alright, I’m going.”

“I heard gunfire around here yesterday afternoon.”

“Did ya?”

“Know anything about that, Connor Mac?”

“Is that what brought you here?”

“More or less,” said McLeod.

“Yeah, well, we had to clean out a few rats in the living room here before we got comfortable.”

“I take it you’re talking the human variety—else, why waste the shells.”

Connor grinned at McLeod’s comment. The older man sat on the porch bench and began eating his plateful of eggs. Despite his obvious hunger, John McLeod managed to eat with a great amount of class—as if he were in a five star restaurant. His son Jason approached Connor and held out his hand. The two shook and Jason gave Connor a nod as if to say thanks for welcoming us. He turned to the pot of eggs and began dishing large scoops onto his plate.