The Dreeson Incident(183)

"Priorities," Minnie said. "Your mother has a pretty good grip on what's a priority and what's not."



Before they left, Denise got the M-1 carbine her father had bought for as a hunting rifle a few years earlier. It was a powerful enough gun for deer hunting while being small enough for a girl her size to handle—and, best of all under the current circumstances, it was easy enough to carry on a motorcycle.



After loading her jacket pockets with extra ammunition, she handed the carbine to Minnie, who'd be riding in the sidecar. Minnie held the weapon the way she'd have held an ax or a hoe. Solidly gripped, of course—not the sort of thing you want to see flying loose—but not as if it were really a weapon. She'd never handled guns as a kid, and now with only one eye she didn't see any point to learning.





Chapter 60





Frankfurt am Main


Chandra sat in the waiting room at the Frankfurt post office. Not a room, really. A sheltered porch sort of thing in front of the building. No benches; she was sitting on a keg with someone's freight in it.



She had stayed too long to catch the turnaround on Wackernagel's trip out. He wouldn't be back for at least two weeks. That was his schedule. Nathan hadn't given her any money. Wackernagel would have trusted her to pay him back after she got home, but a stranger wouldn't. As soon as someone else came through with available space in a wagon or cart, she would pay him for a ride back home. Whether she had ever seen him before in her life or not. At least, if the postmaster said he was reliable. She thought she had enough for that. She was closer to having enough for that than she was to being able to pay for a room at an inn for two weeks.



She wished she could start out walking, but she couldn't. The roads were still not safe enough for an unaccompanied, unarmed woman to go walking alone. If nothing else, there were feral pigs that went hunting in the night if she was outside the walls of a town, and she couldn't afford inns for all the nights it would take to get back to Grantville any more than she could afford an inn here. She had responsibilities. She had the kids. She had to get home safely for them. She had to sit here and wait for a ride.



She felt so miserable.



Nathan had been mad when she showed up, but she'd expected that.



First, he had claimed that he was angry because she came in spite of the civil unrest resulting from the assassinations, because she had put herself in danger, because she had risked the possibility that she might leave the children motherless. He had tried to make feel like she was an irresponsible fool.



She'd stood her ground, at least. Pointed out that there would have been plenty of time for her to come before the assassinations, if he would have let her. Maybe she hadn't just stood her ground. She'd pushed him.



So now she knew. Well, she knew already that he hadn't wanted the third pregnancy. Now she knew that he considered it the end. From now on, he intended to conduct their marriage on an absentee basis. "To eliminate temptation." he said. It was the "best plan."



He hadn't even offered to let her stay at his place until she could find a ride back.



He hadn't even offered to arrange for her to stay with one of the other Grantville men in Frankfurt until she could find a ride back.



He hadn't even asked whether she had enough money to pay for a ride back.



He would rather that she had never come. Coming hadn't been one of his plans. So she wasn't here, as far as he was concerned.



He had told her not to come. That had been his plan. For her to stay in Grantville forever more, like a good little girl, asking no questions.



"Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies."



She was sick and tired of Nathan's plans. All of them.





Bryant Holloway drove the pickup truck he had stolen from the fire department lot in Grantville off the road to the right, behind some trees and brush, about a mile outside of Frankfurt. Around a curve going to the right, sharp right, and then double back a little. No one coming in the direction from Grantville toward Frankfurt was likely to see it. It wasn't the best place to leave it, but there weren't any better ones. He got out and headed into town. He had to get to Nathan's. Once he got to Nathan's, he should be safe enough for the time being. He could come back and get the stuff later.



* * *



Neither Missy nor Ron noticed the place where Bryant had driven the truck off the road. The road surfaces were naturally petty rocky and bumpy. Not something on which a truck left obvious tracks—but something which did require all their attention to keep the cycles upright. Assuming that he was headed into Frankfurt, they continued right into the town.



Just inside the walls, Missy braked the motorcycle more sharply than she should have. What on earth?