Walking in the Rain (Book 4): Dark Sky Thunder Read Online Free Page B

thought about the governor in Arkansas, Watkins, and wanted to tell her that some public servants did seem to be rising to the occasion. Maybe mention it to her later, I decided.
    I stopped before we got to the confrontation at the Red River Army Depot. No sense in speculating over such things now. And I’d left out the attack on the chemical weapons depot at Pine Bluff, too. That wasn’t directly part of our trip, and I wanted to get Dad alone or with Mike and maybe Uncle Billy to discuss what this might mean.
    “All right,” I said, breaking the tension, “that’s enough for now. Dad, we can get together after breakfast and go over the supplies we brought. I know Amy has a list somewhere. And I want to hear who all else you’ve been in contact with around here.”
    I could tell my father wanted to say something else, but he must have seen something in my look that changed his mind. Some of what I had left to share was just guesswork, but scary nonetheless in the implications. In fact, I debated seeing if Dad was up for a run into town. I figured Sheriff Henderson needed to be aware of what was going on out there before some bullies in a black SUV drove up and started hassling his deputies. Wait, I already did that.
    “Okay,” my dad agreed. “Chores, then breakfast, then we go see Billy. We need to discuss the security situation with all these new recruits handy.”
    He said it in a way that got a laugh, but I knew he was serious. He might only consider getting two additional fighters, us boys, but I knew Lori and (God forgive me) Amy could do the job as well. As for Helena and Connie, well, time would tell.
    We quickly split up into teams, with my father making the assignments. The milk cows, chickens, horses, and even the goats needed attention this morning, just like every day. I took the horses stabled in the horse barn, since that was my old job, and Scott and Amy came along for a quick orientation.
    Mom and the Thompson sisters went to the milking parlor where our two milk cows waited patiently to be let in, while Paige led Helena, Connie, and the little ones to the chicken coops to gather the morning’s egg production. Alex, over his protests, was sent back to bed. Dad, hero that he was, would see to the hogs. Hurray for him, I thought darkly. We kept the hog enclosures downwind for a reason, and still the smell was atrocious. Or, at least I used to think so. Now, I would probably barely notice.
    As I led the way over to the stables, really a large barn with fenced-off paddocks for the horses to roam a bit, I gave my two companions a running commentary on the operation. I remembered Nick doing the same for me at the Keller farm and felt a sudden wave of nostalgia. Even though we’d only spent a short time there, I’d come to think of them as my second family, and I said a silent prayer that they were holding up under the challenges of the day.
    “Why are some horses in here, and others out in the fields?” Scott asked.
    “These are the stallions and the pregnant mares. We want to protect the prospective mothers and keep the stallions from fighting,” I replied. “The geldings and unbred mares are fine in the near fields, and frankly, the stallions we have here are pretty mellow for all that, but the idea is to keep the lines unmixed for now. Maybe later we will revisit that formula. Not much call for show horses or barrel racers, and more need for plow horses and general riding stock, really. I’m sure that’s why Grandpa insisted we buy that Percheron stallion and those three mares.”
    As I spoke, I approached a familiar stall and saw my boy, Archer, waiting for me. I could tell he’d caught my scent by the way he shook his head, and I figured he was pissed at me for my long absence. I explained as much to Scott and Amy and told them how Archer had held a grudge for over a week the last time I’d been gone for the summer, working in Dallas.
    Sticking his head over the half door of the stall,