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World’s End
Book One of The Seed Mother

Chapter Thirteen: Troubles

Some weeks later, just as the main portion of the village was ending its work day, another lot of would-be settlers arrived, led by a tall, very slim, bearded man who introduced himself as Ephram Larch. He had a haughty demeanor as he scanned the parts of the village visible from just inside the gate, suggesting he was examining the accommodations and finding them wanting.

When asked the usual question about beliefs and world view, he snorted and said, “Truer Christians you’ll never find anywhere.” Behind him on a handsome blue roan horse was his younger self, by the look of him. He was Larch’s son, called Brynner. After him came a young couple, Leatrice and Huck Lewis, in a buckboard wagon loosely filled with supplies, some of them piled to make a bed for Eva Swan, an elderly woman who was Leatrice’s mother. She appeared to be quite ill. Someone had sent for Moira and when she came down the hill, Glen was waiting for her just out of hearing from the visitors.

“I don’t like this bunch, Moira. I saw this fellow up by old Terisita preaching to a little bit of a crowd, pitching hell and damnation and wrath of god stuff. I never invited him nor any of his crew. He must have got wind of us and followed our trail.”

“Well, we may be stuck with him at least for the short term, as it’s too late in the day to just send them out into the wild. We’ll have to put them up for a little bit. It won’t take us long to suss out what they’re made of.”

Glen nodded and started to walk away, then stopped. “We’d best have someone keep watch over them until we know what they’re up to. I can’t help but think that he, at least, has some of his own designs in mind for this place.”

“You know who we might put to the job?”

“How about young Ted? He’s beginning to get his strength back and is looking to be of help. You might have a word with him over supper.”

“Or sooner,” she replied. They parted and Moira drew nearer the conversation by the gate.

Rick had finished his assessment of their needs and was on his way back to the his little house, which also served as the village canteen and welcome shed, to find the village map and see what nooks and crannies might be available to hold the five newcomers. Moira meant to introduce herself, but stopped when she heard the hiss of Ephram’s hoarse whisper.

“I wonder where they got that little nancy-boy,” he spit. “Looks like they could offer a proper welcome, instead of sending out some pervert to paw over the weary travelers.”

She stepped forward. “I’ll be the one to do the welcoming, mister. Although I wonder that you’d be so soon willing to bite the hands that mean to make your dinner.”

Ephram flushed and yanked his hat from his head.

“Beg pardon, Ma’am. I didn’t mean to speak poorly. Where might your husband be, if you’ll permit me to ask?

“Ask away. But you’ll not find him. I’m not here in place of my husband. I’m here representing what’s left of the federal government. And I’d like you to state your business here.”

“You’ve got no man to be in charge? What kind of place is this?”

“It’s my place, mister, and unless you and your friends mean to sleep in the cold dew outside the fence tonight, I suggest you learn to watch your tongue. We’re not a community that excludes people for their differences, unless they make themselves intolerable.”

At that moment Rick reappeared and began to direct the visitors.

“I have a little cabin right at the end of Main Street that’s empty. It’s small, but it will serve temporarily. There’s not much for bedding, but I expect you’ll have some with you. It’s three rooms, so Mr. and Mrs. Lewis can have one, Mister Larch and his son will take the next, and your mother can have a room to herself. I’ll take you there now, then show you gentlemen to the stables. If your mother needs a nurse, we can see to that as well. I’ve already sent someone to tell the kitchen to rustle you up some dinner.” He ushered them away into the gathering dusk and Moira, shaking her head at the bizarre encounter, headed for the farmhouse to propose a new job for Ted. Glen was right to be concerned. She had no idea what the others were about by coming here, but Larch was going to be trouble. Of that she had no doubt.

The next night was meeting night and was attended by all, including the new arrivals. The village’s human population had now grown to 25 and if the newcomers stayed would hit 30. They were now officially full, since no other housing remained except for the summer kitchen behind the farmhouse, and with its vast brick oven and iron cookstove it would not easily be converted from its original purpose.

Now that most of the harvest was in, it was time to assess the community’s progress and shift most of the harvest crew to other tasks, most of them involving construction. Moira called on Eldon to make the first report.

“As y’ know, we’ve been shorthanded at every turn, so things have gone slower than they might have. However, since last week I’ve taken a crew and four wagons up to my old place, and we managed to bring back about half the lumber I had stored up there. We’ll need to start on the school soon. But given the way people keep coming in, we thought it best that the Inn be given first priority. With the foundation work already done and the walls up, we’ll be raising some partitions up on the second floor by end of the coming week to make some sleeping rooms. We can divide up the downstairs as soon as we can decide on what goes into an Inn.”

He asked for help with the design and both Rick and Toby raised a fluttering hand. Toby had a word to say on inns and what they should offer. “Something to drink besides water would be good for a start,” he said with an impish grin. At this a laugh and a cheer went up.

“If enough basic equipment could be salvaged from stores and from what other gathering expeditions might bring, a small restaurant or pub could be assembled so people could sleep and take their meals there,” Ellen commented.

More good news followed as Annie LeBeaux announced the completion of her laboratory. In her report she said she, Ellen, Alice Compton, and Haley Slocum were now working to develop an infirmary/pharmacy/dispensary within what had been the large public space at the visitors center so they could better see to the residents’ ongoing medical needs.

The next report on the harvest, by Toby, was not so encouraging.

“As you know, much of the planting was gotten in late, due to lack of hands to do the work. We’ve been fortunate, as most of you who came later brought some food stocks with you. Still, we won’t know where we stand until all the root crops are in. It’s going to be touch-and-go even at best. As it stands now, we’re just barely going have enough food to get us through the winter. The livestock situation is some better, for we’ve had two good cuttings of hay and are looking at one more, maybe, before frost. But if very many more folks show up, well…”

Just then, Helen spoke up. “One thing we could do, and we’ve already started it somewhat, is use the big kitchen and larder up here to make at least one of the days’ meals for everyone. That way we can better portion out the food and make sure everyone gets at least one good hot meal a day. There should also be at least some food and snacks kept at the Inn when it’s finished, hopefully before winter. We should probably put a food crew together to see the whole thing is organized and efficient, so things don’t go to waste.”

“That’s good,” said Moira. “Anyone who’s interested in helping with that, get with Helen after meeting.” Several nodded, and Eldon raised his hand.

“It sounds like to me, if we mean to be careful with the food and still have room for more incomers, I’d best be starting on a boarding house next, or a dorm, or bunk house. Something. If we could find the right salvage, I could put in a commercial kitchen there, and we could serve a noon meal for everyone down there, with a regular dining room.

Helen quickly whispered in Moira’s ear and she nodded

“If you can put together something sturdy enough to house it, you can take the whole kitchen from up here on the hill,” Moira said with a grin. “The village has far more use for it than I do, and it’d be more convenient for everyone, especially Helen, because she’d have more ready help.” Another round of nods followed.

“Any questions or other issues,” she asked.

Ephram Larch raised his hand. “Where is your church?” he demanded.

Moira hated his tone, but the question was a valid one.

“Well, Mr. Larch, since you’re new here, you probably don’t know much about the history of this place. It has only been a real village for less than a year. It’s actually part of what used to be a small national park and was intended to be a work of living history, demonstrating how folks lived in centuries past. The Park Service staff were building replicas of what facilities would exist in such an old pioneer town, and they just hadn’t gotten to the church yet. But if you’d like one, you’re certainly welcome to help build it. I’m sure we have several carpenters willing to help. And as it happens, we already have a minister.” She had Ray stand and introduced him to the newcomers. He stammered a welcome awkwardly, but was smiling when he sat down.

After suggesting it might be time for those assembled to gather themselves into smaller groups or crews according to their interests and talents, Moira called the meeting to a close and announced that the next week’s meeting would be devoted to the subject of education – everyone’s education – and how to develop best practices for living in the world as it had become. As usual, everyone’s thoughts would be welcomed. Then Ellen brought in trays of cookies pebbled with dried fruit and a spare quantity of nuts. She drew close as she handed Moira a pair of cookies.

“That went well, I thought. How about you?”

Moira grinned and shook her head. “I don’t know. The more I think things are settling into place, the weirder they seem to get. I think we’re going to have some trouble out of that Larch guy. He reminds me a little too much of some other guys we had to deal with once, in the long-ago.”

Ellen’s lips tightened. “Then deal with him we will,” she replied. “I don’t suppose you considered just shooting him when he came up to the gate?”

Moira snorted a laugh that sent cookie crumbs flying, and shook her head yes, then no. “Too many people about,” she choked out, and they both collapsed in gales of laughter. When someone asked what was funny, Ellen shook her head. “It’s a very long story,” she said, and Moira chimed in with a “Too long. Much too long.” For the rest of the evening, they avoided looking at one another because the meeting of their eyes set off more giggles. Evidently, they agreed the next morning, that once grim matter had finally been laid to rest.

It was as Moira feared. Ephraim Larch, despite all cautionary words directed at him, seemed determined to throw up obstacles to virtually every aspect of any plans for the village’s future. First he wanted to challenge the actual structure of community life itself. His general complaint centered around the notion that women were in charge of everything that mattered, and that just wasn’t right. They were making decisions they just weren’t suited to, he said, which Steven and Glen found hilarious. It especially rankled him that Moira was the community’s highest authority, and no argument, even the one that she represented the last vestige of government, would appease him. For her part, Moira had been done with trying to appease him about anything from the time she overheard his first sniping, whispered comments at the gate.

At the next town meeting to discuss, among other things, the principles by which their community might move into the future, Larch had an opposing opinion about everything and Moira soon tired of his interruptions. He first tried to divert the discussion into the need for armament, which was rebuffed. When discussions turned to the need for a school, he asserted that the school’s coursework must be guided by fundamentalist Christian principles. Then he insisted that all subjects other than homemaking should by rights be taught by men.

Moira had had enough. “Mister Larch, I believe you have misunderstood what we are here to do. We are making plans for a school, a school that will address life as we know it. It must serve to prepare those who will come after us to live in that world. It is far, far too soon to discuss what we plan to teach in it, and how, and by whom. We need to move on with the real concerns that face us today.”

He continued sputtering, and she said, finally, “How about this? Next week we will take up consideration of our various belief systems, our attachment to traditions, and the need to accommodate a diverse population. Will that do?”

“No, but I see I’m outranked here,” he snarled. “And as for true Christian traditions versus this ‘diversity’, it appears to me there’s only two traditions here, the true believers and your little rabble of heathens. I’m not sure you should even have a place at the next meeting.”

Moira smiled a broad and very cold smile at that. “I will be the judge of where my place is, thank you. And if I need your advice, I’ll ask for it. Now sit down and hush. We have work to do, and you’re being a hindrance.” Those gathered moved closer in and kept to the subjects before them, and soldiered on to the end of the meeting.

Then came an event the following week, just hours before the next scheduled meeting was to start, that turned the discussion about diversity and traditions and one’s place in things completely on its head. Rick and Toby had just finished serving up morning tea, coffee, and little breakfast buns to the early workers stopping by their small cantina when they heard the sound of singing, many voices singing. And then there was a shout, followed by a whoop of joy, again from many more voices than should be there. Evidently there were visitors at the gate. But when Rick reached the entrance, he could scarcely believe his eyes. This new congregation, if that’s what it was, was possibly the most ethnically and racially diverse group of humans he’d seen since moving years ago from California to the Ozarks. There were eleven of them in all, including, when they’d gotten the stories straight, three African-Americans, two Asians, one Pacific Islander, an Arab, a Sikh and three people of various Hispanic origins. And they were very happy to be there, apparently, because they were laughing, cheering, and all talking at once. By the time Toby had raced up the hill and fetched Moira, Rick had made at least a little headway in sorting out their story.

First of all, they were tourists, or had been, all of them from the St. Louis area. They had been riding on a tour bus just north of Memphis, returning home from the Gulf coast, where they’d spent the Thanksgiving weekend at the casinos in Biloxi. Then the first big earthquake hit. The driver had managed to stop without crashing the bus, but they had been very close to the fault zone. They had exited the bus safely, but had afterward suffered many injuries and some fatalities during their first few days while making their way through some violently disturbed terrain that was never still and was rapidly filling with water. They finally made their way to Poplar Bluff and found food and clean water and shelter of sorts, even though the city, which they insisted on calling Popular Buff was mostly in ruins. They were welcomed after a fashion and some had stayed there. But there were too many of them, and some proved too “diverse” for some, so that portion had decided to move on to what they called “Vanbyren.” Room had been made for them there, but grudgingly, for that town was already overcrowded and resource poor, and when spring arrived and the winds subsided, most had been ready to attempt another trek in hopes of finding either an abandoned town where they could settle together or someplace where they might be better received. They had experienced just too much hostility and suspicion, especially toward their darker colleagues, from those very homogenous, i.e. white settlements, to feel safe, they said. They’d heard rumors of some fabled settlement where it was said people of diverse origins might be welcome, and they had decided to try for it, using a highway map with the little park shown on it. That leg of their journey had taken some two weeks, they said.
Their arrival threw the entire ensuing meeting into chaos, leaving Ephram Larch so dumbfounded he had nothing to say. Instead of wrestling over beliefs, the discussion was on how many rooms at the Inn could be quickly made livable and how soon a dormitory could be finished. Then there was the question of how on earth they would all be fed. Fortunately, along with the newcomers had come a trio of pack animals carrying a supply of foodstuffs along with their meager belongings, so concerns over immediate hunger were assuaged. It was obvious, though, that this was only a very short term solution. The entire flock was bedded down in the cavernous lower floor of the building that was to be the Inn. Sandwiches and snacks were brought down from the kitchen at the Keep, and they got comfortable as Moira explained to them the conditions under which the community was organized. They were thrilled to comply.

As for the meeting, it was decided that further discussion about schooling as well as about religious traditions would just have to wait until the chaos had subsided.

The conflict, however, was far from over. Some who had arrived earlier, the Riggs sisters in particular, had already expressed discomfort over how few “traditional Christians” existed in the population. There were Christians of various sorts among the new arrivals, though, and Moira was encouraged, for Larch and the Riggs girls had now found some things in common with people who at least marginally shared their beliefs. Things should get better now, she thought.

But instead, they got worse, not through anyone’s fault, or from bad intentions, but because of the serious issues that had to be faced regarding their real-life circumstances. Even before the last of the fall harvest was in or the huge batch of newcomers arrived, it was evident there simply would not be enough food to keep everyone fed all winter without depleting the seed stocks to dangerous levels. Without sufficient seeds to replant and enough extra to save against crop failure, they could only delay the demise of the entire settlement. Again it was Glen who came up with a solution, over the first family’s dinner table in the center’s former conference room.

“I’ve enough stored away at my place, in a large, roomy cave below my house, to feed maybe twelve —fifteen people over the winter,” he said. “Plus, the hunting is really good up there. Why don’t I take that many of the single men and boys up there and hole up for the winter. It’s a good shelter, they’d have water and a way to keep warm, for there’s plenty of downed timber to cut. And the cave was used as a hideout during the Civil War, so it’s been worked on to make it a little more homey. We could spend the winter passing around our skills and learn things from one another. And without all us heavy eaters around, you should have plenty on hand to keep the ones who stay. I mean, we could just go up there and bring back the stores, but that wouldn’t solve the drain on other resources or the housing problem.”

It was not the best of solutions, but it might work, the family decided. In fact, town meetings aside, here at the dinner table at the Keep was where most essential policies guiding the community were often formed and refined. They had taken seriously Joey’s notion of calling the massive structure the Keep because they kept not just the seeds there but priceless tools, knowledge, and records – the irreplaceable essentials, in those deep, climate controlled vaults. It also remained the only private meeting place for these few who were charged with keeping order as the population swelled and village life became more complex.

They presented Glen’s solution to the villagers at the next meeting and it was accepted. But when the time came to select who would go, religion, in the form of Ephram, again became a problem. Urged on by him, many of the more conservative Christian men claimed they were unwilling to leave their families “unprotected.” Nor did they want their young men spending months away from their families, especially in the company of those they considered unchurched heathens.

Then Moira caught wind of another, more sinister plan that represented a larger threat to the community. Ted, who was still keeping an eye on the Larches, had heard them scheming over a plot to wait until the other men left, then oust her as the community’s leader and replace her with a “good Christian man.” Not surprisingly, Ephram was both the instigator of the plan and the prime candidate to replace her. She hurriedly called a family meeting at the Keep. Then, backed by Glen, Steven, Joey, and Ellen, she called the villagers together in a special town meeting and spelled it out for them.

“I’m embarrassed that this discussion has to take place at all, but since it appears necessary, let me be as clear as possible. That you were welcomed here at all,” she said, looking pointedly at Ephraim Larch, “is a testimony to our generosity and decency as a family. We had already established our own rules and laws for this place which is in our keeping. If you mean to stay here, then you must respect that generosity as well as our ways. If you cannot abide them, then I invite you to seek shelter elsewhere. I am confident there are other communities more to your liking that would welcome you. In fact, we can provide you with maps to show you the way and loan you the transport to get there. And we could certainly use the space. Then there is the matter of resources. We have already agreed that in order to survive the winter some of you will have to spend those winter months elsewhere regardless of your personal wishes. None of us wish to leave or to send others away. We simply do not have and cannot get enough food for all of us to stay here through the coming winter. In addition, from observing the weather patterns as we head into the fall, we think it’s likely that the violent storms we experienced last winter may repeat themselves. So if we, and you, are to make this move, and do it deliberately, we must begin preparations now. At the first sign of worsening weather, Glen will take the men who have the least attachments here and head north. They will spend the winter months there at his home beside the Jack’s Fork River and return to Falling Spring as soon as the storms abate in early spring. Anyone who can’t abide this arrangement, or who can’t abide our ways, is welcome to choose alternatives. Glen can tell you about a couple of communities that are more – conservative, if that’s what you prefer – and help you to gather your belongings and move there before travel becomes dangerous.”

“I can be their guide and take them there, if they can be ready to go soon,” Glen agreed. Asked to define “soon,” Glen said, “within the next couple of weeks.”

At that, Ephram leaped to his feet.
“I’ll tell you what’s going on here,” he said in a loud, hoarse voice, spitting in his rage. “These women, these witches, are sending us good Christian men off to die so they can have our women and turn them into witches, or worse. They don’t have the right to say what we’re to do. They’re women! They shouldn’t even be allowed to speak. This place belongs to God! If anyone’s going to leave, it should be these godless heathens with their circles and charms.”

Several people looked surprised and some were offended at his outburst, but a few were nodding their heads. He was just getting into the rhythm of his speech when a metallic click caught everyone’s attention. Larch turned to look at Moira and found himself staring down the barrel of her pistol, which was aimed at his head.

“I’ll tell you what gives me the right,” she hissed in a voice no one had heard her use before. “This place is in my care. The responsibility for its survival is mine. I have paid for it in blood. A long time ago, before any of you knew of its existence, I was given the job to protect it. I take my job seriously, Ephraim. I would kill for it. I have killed for it. And I would do it again if need be.” The crowd surged back at the threat and bedlam threatened.

She holstered the pistol and raised her hands, calling for quiet.

“Listen to me. Listen. Do you really think you have been sent here because you’re good Christians, or because you believed we were? Do you not know where you are? This is the last outpost, the last hope, so far as we know, of rebuilding human civilization. Do you think we will let this outpost fall in order to appease your beliefs, or anyone’s? You may think what you wish and go where you wish to think it, but here at Falling Spring we will place our faith in human dignity and intelligence. We will worship the world that has let us live another day here. We will honor our differences and find common ground. And we will care, by any means necessary, for the seed stores in our keeping.
“They, not you, are our future. Without them there will be no future for any of us. If you would like to participate with us in this endeavor, then I advise you to keep your divisiveness and your nasty little egos (she said this last looking straight at Ephraim) to yourself, and join the work. Until and unless we find out differently, we must carry on as if we truly are the last hope of humankind. We don’t have time for this petty conflict over whose God is in charge. Everybody’s God carries equal weight here. If you have a problem with that, then leave. Otherwise, let’s stop this nonsense and get back to work.”

And they did. When Ephram turned back to look at the crowd, it had already begun to disperse, leaving him standing alone. Steven went to him, put his arm around the man’s sinking, dispirited shoulders, and led him off to the stables, where they worked the rest of the morning shoveling manure and arguing philosophy, a combination that caused great mirth when Steven described it at supper that night.

The next day the winds turned colder, and the day after that came the first howling drafts that foretold the arrival of the dreadful winter storms. The men would have to go north, and soon. But first Glen must guide Ephraim and his son, the Lewis family, and whoever else wanted to go, to a fitting home in another settlement. At first the Lewis’s were torn about what to do, because Leatrice’s mother, Eva Swan, was still too feeble to travel. But as if answering their concerns with a practical solution, she passed quietly in that first windy night and was buried the next day up on the knoll with the other settlers, old and new. And so the cemetery gained another, far more peaceful resident than the other recent arrivals. The following morning the little party took their leave without the Riggs sisters, who decided in the end they didn’t want to leave their little farm.

That same evening at the Inn, in a light furnished by the generator at the mill pond dam, the community gathered to discuss when the men should leave, who among them should go, what they would take, and what (and who) must be left behind. The discussion continued until late that night and long into the next lengthening evenings weighing the options.

As they talked, more concerns surfaced, and some frank discussion ensued, some of them out of the earshot of all but the family. When Annie and Alice joined the conversation over dinner at the Keep, the talks on genetics turned to an examination of the existing and probable future human gene pool. Ellen was older than Moira, but still pre-menopausal. If civilization were to be maintained, there would simply have to be more children and every effort made to have them. Also, some elements of conventional morality around the tradition of monogamy might have to be at least temporarily put aside, and that would require discussing it in plain terms with all the villagers – especially the women.

Fearing another confrontation with those who still might be too conservative for such notions, Ellen and Moira began calling women aside quietly, both those still capable of being mothers and those who had enough experience to form a cadre of midwives. They explained what needed to be done. Quietly, in most cases at least, Moira thought with a smile, the long evenings soon became more entertaining for a good many of the community’s residents. Memories were stored that kept quite a few men and women warmer through the winter nights apart.

And children came in plenty through the following summer and early fall.

Evidently some of the same discussions took place in the northern outpost at Glen’s Cave, because several of the younger men returned in spring eager to attempt a closer association with some of the girls of their own generation. Tom Langston took up with Regina Sharp, a young black woman from the bus. Arthur Slocum began courting Rae-Jean. And Eldon Case struck up a romance with Ruthie Riggs after his own mother, Marianne, moved across the hall of the farmhouse and in with John Langston.

Late that following summer, along with several of the village’s women, Ellen had a son, named Latham, after her father. Moira, after much deliberation and worries about not doing her part, finally declined, citing the many responsibilities she had that would be jeopardized by having an infant in tow. Besides, she had adopted the orphaned toddler, Jared, who was growing fast but still a handful. Maybe next year, she said, and Ellen supported her decision. What had started as a ragged bunch of survivors was fast becoming a real, diverse, multigenerational community. This new world was at last beginning to look at its future with some confidence that there might actually be one.

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World’s End
Book One of The Seed Mother

Chapter Eleven: Making Room

Within a week after the Langstons arrived, more people, livestock, and even house pets began to trickle in, and as Ellen had predicted, room had to be made and plans altered again and again.

With the arrival of help and more temperate weather, Moira rescinded her decision to free all the livestock, and everyone but the young colts seemed relieved to be back in their pens. The poultry had been especially hard hit by predation and the village was down to just three hens and a single rooster, plus a single hen turkey from each of the turkey breeds and no rooster from either. But each of those turkey hens had apparently mated, both with their absent mates and evidently with a wild turkey male as well, for after they were penned, they nested and began producing some very odd-looking chicks along with some who looked quite ordinary. A mystery but not one they’d question, since the flock was now up from two to sixteen. The chickens had also been busy, each hatching out a brood of half a dozen or more. Not all of those lived, of course, but the chickens from the original flock numbered well over a dozen now, and the birds would likely nest again before fall. In addition, a motley little flock of four migrant chickens, including a brown leghorn hen, two bantam hens, and a bantam cross rooster, all of them ragged and some injured, stumbled into the village late one day, the rooster answering the call of the resident male. After some introductory tussles, they were welcomed into the flock, and the gene pool was further enhanced.

Likewise, a pregnant Holstein cow, then two Angus heifers and a bull calf, and then six rangy beef cattle of questionable lineage showed up at the lower gate, plainly asking for shelter and a little graze. They, too, showed signs of being worried by some kind of predatory animal and so were let into the gate of the harvested oat field and contented themselves tidying things up. Most of the Tamworth hogs returned, followed by a meek little Berkshire gilt, all of them polite and looking for a little corn. They trotted merrily into their enclosure, following a rattling grain can, and soon were happily settled.

One morning when she left her apartment, a small gray cat with golden eyes was sitting at Moira’s door. She warned it about the dogs but it marched inside, stood all its hairs on end, smartly slapped each puppy on the nose as it approached, wove its way around Sheba’s legs and purred, and made itself at home. Moira saw it was a girl and named it Stella. So, slowly but steadily, the village began to fill.

The arriving humans, with few exceptions, seemed to have been selected and sent by Glen. Most of them showed up holding hand-drawn maps on scraps of paper, and most seemed to understand the still unwritten rules of order. By the time Glen himself finally came home, he’d sent more than a dozen on ahead. In addition to their personal effects, each of them brought items of food, tools, medical supplies, reference books, and other salvaged and irreplaceable commodities from the world outside, and each presented those things as their entry fee. Each seemed eager to declare an open mind and religious tolerance among their qualifications for admittance. Obviously Glen had given them a talking to before drawing his maps. With every arrival, new skills and talents came with them.

First down the lower road by the river came Toby Stoffer, an organic farmer and orchardist who was carrying with him bundles of fruit tree scions he’d salvaged from the wreckage of his nursery, and Rickard Mills, his husband, a landscape designer. The two of them arrived with some fanfare on a noisy all-terrain vehicle pulling a trailer. On it in addition to the tiny trees were tools, boxes and bags tightly packed, several jerry-cans of fuel, and a Maine coon cat named Edna. Edna immediately set to work in the barn. Rickard applied for a job.
”I recognize that my profession has gone extinct, darling,” he told Moira. “I’ll work at anything you’d like me to do. But I hope you don’t mind if I pretty things up a bit as I go along.”

“I think you’ll both be as happy here as we are happy to have you,” Moira said, and then, realizing her choice of words could be taken two ways, added, “I’m delighted you’re here. This place could use a facelift and we can certainly use the extra hands. You’ll have all the work you want.” The men chose as their residence the lower shed just up from the gate, once used for storing landscaping equipment. Those items were moved, with some reverence on the part of Rickard, to a larger open-fronted shed opposite the gate, and the former landscaping shed soon acquired a patio, a tiny kitchen, and an outdoor grill. Before long, it became a popular after-work destination for many village residents.

Toby offered himself as Ellen’s assistant in the garden and Rickard was soon put to work refitting the “demonstration” shops of the village as living quarters and some real shops. Evenings he spent digging, planting, pruning, and “prettying” the extensive grounds. Soon Ellen handed over the food gardens and a growing orchard to Toby and devoted herself entirely to the medicinal herbs, and Rickard’s designs went far beyond prettying. Within days, he began approaching Moira with drawings he’d made on a small sketch pad filled with ideas for expanding the food gardens, developing more home sites, and creating planned public areas. As for the structure of the village’s common area including Main Street, he said, all that was lacking was sufficient people to run the shops. That, he predicted, would in all likelihood, take care of itself. And it did.

Next to arrive was Eldon Case, a 40-year-old farmer from just up the river from the Langston farm. He’d survived the winter but had watched his wife and father succumb to the cold and dark and terror that the nightmare changes had brought. He came in riding a tall bay mule, leading a donkey packed with his belongings, and driving before him a Jersey cow and calf. Riding behind him on the mule was his mother, Marianne Case. Running alongside and helping guide the cattle was a little cattle dog answering to “Burt.”

A little behind them that day came a lone woman driving a horse before a small buckboard wagon loaded with unknown items under a tarp. Her progress was tentative and Moira wondered why – until she recognized her.

“Oh my God it’s Helen!” she exclaimed, and went racing down the road, startling the Cases’ animals. “Sorry,” she called as she slowed so as not to startle the horse next in line. “Oh, Helen, I’m so glad you’re alive. I had so hoped that someone from the staff was out there and would eventually come in. Steven’s here.” As Helen pulled the wagon to a stop, Moira climbed aboard and threw her arms around the older woman. Helen Walker had been the manager and chief cook for the museum’s demonstration kitchen, had gone off with the rest for the Thanksgiving holiday and had never returned – until now.

Moira took Helen’s hand in both of hers and said “How are you? Really.”

“Well, we had a tight house and enough to eat and we just holed up and waited for the storm to pass,” Helen said. We only live about five miles away, but we were afraid to come down here, afraid of what we’d find and afraid we couldn’t get here and back. The bridge up there is out, you know. Then Nathan took sick about a month back, and, well, your man got there just about in time to help me bury him. He said you were OK and you’d have room for me. I sure hope you do.”

Moira gave her hand a shake. “Are you kidding? I’d take you in if I had to throw somebody else out. Now come on, let’s get you inside and get somebody to tend to your horse. We’ll get the wagon unloaded when we’ve settled on where to put you.”

Meanwhile, Toby and Steven were quizzing Eldon. Soon they knew he had grown up on his family’s farm but had worked in town as a welder, carpenter, and sometimes mechanic, and he had an abundance of manual skills to offer. He was at once befriended by Steven and offered charge of the tool room at the Center. He made his living quarters in the smaller of the barn’s two tack rooms and took his meals with the Langstons. Mrs. Case settled in one of the farmhouse’s upstairs bedrooms and offered to help in the kitchen and garden, although she soon began eyeing one of the little shops and mentioned she was a competent seamstress. When Ellen told her of the stored bolts of cloth, she began planning her new career. She and John Langston became immediate friends when Marianne confessed she played piano and John began to acquaint her with his small squeeze box accordion. Helen moved into the space up the hill that had been the dressing room for the performers, right next door to her beloved kitchen. The small population had already been eating Helen’s cooking from the meals stored in the freezer, but they soon discovered the fresh version was even better.

Learning of potential resources awaiting them at the abandoned farms upriver, Rick and Toby spent a can of their precious fuel on multiple trips hauling tools, materials, and supplies back to the village. Moira made sure they were both armed, but apparently the noise of the little four-wheeler was enough to keep the feral and vicious “wee little piggies” at bay.

Two days from the opposite direction down the road came the two Riggs sisters, 49-year-old Reatha and 40-year-old Ruthie, whose farm was downriver. They had not been sent by Glen. They had been living on their parents’ farm downstream from the Park for several years but had kept to themselves. They had dared the trip upriver after hearing, faintly, the noise from Toby and Rick’s ATV. It was the first human-made sound they’d heard since the “Changes,” they said, and they were afraid it might be the last. They’d come in a small, two-wheeled horse-drawn cart, saying they’d left all their worldly belongings behind in the care of the neighbors who’d joined them over the winter and who had stayed behind to do the milking. They could go fetch them if they could all please stay, they pleaded with tremulous voices, offering up their list of useful skills. They were schoolteachers but also dairy farmers, cheese-makers, and beekeepers, they said. They could, with help, bring with them as many as a dozen hives and ten head of Guernsey cattle, all good milkers. It was almost too good a gift and would strain the ability of the existing facilities both to house and to feed just the animals, not to mention another batch of new two-legged arrivals to consider as well, including that other family yet unseen. It was time to consider a larger plan.

Moira asked the sisters to return home and bring everyone back the next day right after the morning milking so all could attend a town meeting. She proposed a discussion to work out the details of how this larger village might proceed. The sisters happily agreed, and were invited to stay for lunch and beyond to meet the rest of the village residents before returning home. Tom and Toby on horseback escorted them back to their farm and returned home just before full dark.

The meeting was set for 10 a.m., but preparations had been underway since dawn, when Ellen, Helen, and Marianne began work next door in the kitchen, turning the regular morning meal into a brunch-style buffet more suited to the gathering. Moira also enlisted Steven and Tom to make some adjustments to the room that had been the museum’s theater. The addition of a long folding table down front with chairs behind it where the village’s unofficial leaders would sit made the space perfect for the meeting. They had also added, at Ellen’s suggestion, another long table at the back to hold all that food and drink. The theater at the former visitors’ center, which could seat up to 120 people, had seemed too large, but was still the best site for this meeting, as it was comfortable, and everyone could be seen and heard.

As the meeting time approached, people began strolling up the hill in what was becoming a festive mood. Steven’s daughter Sarah had recovered her strength enough that she and Joey were now looking after Ted Langston, who was still weak and was having a hard time building back his strength. As the meeting approached, and with help from Eldon, they hitched one of the trained Morgan mares to a flat-bedded farm wagon, enlisted “Grandpa John” Langston as wagon master, and offered a ride up the hill for Ted and anyone else who wished it. Ted hesitated, then agreed to ride and keep his grandfather company. The Riggs sisters said they’d like a wagon ride, too. Toby and Rick, who had already started up the hill, came walking up alongside the shy Lettie, the girl who’d taken refuge with the Langstons. Each of the men took an arm, and walked with her up the hill, chatting quietly in the bright morning, as the sun filled the shaded upper hollow. Above them, they could hear children laughing. Tom Langston and his mother were walking quietly behind them.

“You know,” said Toby, “if this is going to be the end of the world, I think we could have done a whole lot worse, don’t you?” He gave Lettie’s arm a squeeze. He’d heard the story of the loss of her family and was careful not to be flippant. 
She smiled a small smile, then took a deep breath and seemed to breathe in the beauty of the day. Her smile grew larger. “It could be worse,” she agreed.

As others began to file into the center and find the theater, Rick pulled Moira aside and pressed for a serious discussion of setting up an ongoing and regular schedule of meetings where residents could be informed and educated and have input into how the growing village should be organized. She agreed to bring it up, but she said Rick would have to be in charge of presenting suggestions for a plan. He pulled out his notebook.

“I don’t suppose you’d have a larger piece of paper?” he said. He had changed from his usual jeans and landscaper’s apron and was wearing a thin cotton shirt and dove gray slacks. His graying blond hair was tied back at the neck. He looked every inch the landscape designer.
She directed him to the conference room where a presentation pad and easel were stored.

As he hurried away, Ellen, Helen and Marianne came parading up to the theater entrance carrying large trays of pastries and other finger foods which they arranged on the table at the back next to pitchers of iced herb tea, flasks of coffee and a random assortment of glasses and cups. People continued to stream in, and soon all were gathered, sipping and nibbling as the discussion began.

The first suggestion was that they find a suitable name for this structure they were in other than Visitors Center, and designate the theater as the town hall. But what should the entire facility be called? Joey raised his hand.“Why don’t we just call it the Keep, because that’s where you keep everything important?”

Everyone agreed it was short and descriptive enough, and the name was adopted without further conversation. Moira, who had assigned herself as host of the first meeting and was determined to keep her input to a minimum, shook her head as she served coffee to the small group, muttering something about how she hoped everyone realized that this made her the keeper.

Next, Rick arrived, set up the easel, and began to sketch out a plan using a dark marker. He began to explain his plan for how the village should be developed over time.

“We’re barely even a villagette here, Rick, not a real village,” Moira said in protest, but he pressed his point.

“Not yet, we’re not, but the more who arrive, the less there’ll be opportunity for changes. We don’t have enough room in this hollow to just let it grow like Topsy. We need an organized plan to make the best use of the space,” he insisted. “We already need a school. And soon we’ll need to add a church or two, I expect. And a community center, and an Inn, or at least a hostel, and…” She nodded, waved a hand in surrender, and agreed. From now on, she said, she would host weekly meetings here, where everyone could have a seat and a say, and everyone could voice their concerns and ideas, and listen to the concerns of others.

Realizing this meeting and the ones going forward would need some structure, Moira asked for items to go on an agenda, and nearly everyone had something to add. Clearly, people had been thinking about the future. Rick was still adding to his drawing, so she asked if he would yield the floor temporarily so other business could be taken up. He held up his hand with the marker to show he’d heard her, then continued drawing.

Eldon was first to speak but he had obviously been talking to Rick.

He stood and removed his green feed cap, revealing the tan line that stopped halfway up his forehead – a farmer’s tan. “Since it looks like we’re all gonna be here a while…” He paused, waiting for someone to disagree, but no one did. “…and I expect we’ll see some more show up before long…” Everyone nodded, so he went on. “We’d better be tryin’ to get as ready as we can, and as soon as we can. We’re sure not ready now, even though this place as it stands is a real blessing. But we’re going to need more rooms, more places under roof, more food, more …” he stopped, looking for the word.

“Structure,” said Steven, and Eldon nodded. Rick looked pointedly at Moira, who acknowledged him with a wry grin.

“I’m not saying I’m the one to do that, at least the planning part,” Eldon continued. “Now I can build things or take them apart. I know how things go together. But I’m not one to know where to put them. Lord, if you could see my place…” he looked at his mother, and tears sprang to his eyes. Then he turned to Rick. “I know you all did some foraging up there, and that’s fine. But you didn’t make a dent in what’s there. What I’m saying is, I’ve got lumber put away, and tools, and some more food stored, not much but some. We could take a crew and a couple wagons back up there, cause then I can build you some more little houses. And I think you ought to let me have the wood shop at the mill. I can get the wheel going and use that to get the saw going, and then we can make our own lumber. I think we’re gonna need all we can make.” He looked around. “That’s all I’ve got to say.”

Steven raised a hand, and Moira nodded to him.

“He’s right on all counts. We can’t do it all at once, of course, but I’ll be happy to work on that with Eldon, and I think he’s the logical one to take on things at the mill.” He turned to the man, who had taken his seat and put his cap back on. “I don’t mean we expect you to do it by yourself. We’ll get you some help down there every time we can.” He suddenly remembered himself and quickly turned to Moira. “That is, if that’s all right.”

“Let’s don’t stand on ceremony here,” Moira said. “If that’s what works, let’s do it. But I want to hear more of what Rick has to say about structure before we go much farther.” She turned to him, and he rose from his seat on the end of the front row. He had finished drawing and sat down to wait his turn. He looked suddenly young and almost elegant, Moira thought.

“Hello, dears,” he said, stepping back to the easel. He folded back the sheet where he’d been drawing to reveal an enlarged aerial photo of the museum grounds that he’d found in the conference room. “Forgive me, I’m such a ditherer, I just can’t work without visual aids, or I’ll just blather on and confuse everyone. I hope you don’t mind.” He nodded and rubbed his hands together as his audience mumbled what he took to be assent.

“Well,” he said, picking up a long wooden pointer. “Here is what we have now. And here is what I propose we do with it.” He turned the page back, to let them see the sketch again, then turned back to the photo.

“Let me explain,” he said, and everyone nodded. “Here at the mill dam is our electric power source. It’s limited, so it will have to be used judiciously. Maybe street lights, but that’s about all. So things that need to operate off that power – small industry, perhaps – will need to locate there, or nearby. Doesn’t have to be big, doesn’t have to be dirty. In fact, we shouldn’t allow it to be dirty.” He moved the pointer’s end across the pond to the mill itself.

“Now here’s our mechanical power source. It, too, could be retrofitted to produce some small bits of electricity. But the belts that run directly off the wheel will drive the sawmill and the cotton gin and some woodworking tools. All that in good time.”

The pointer moved again.

“Now, here we are down at the farmstead. We will need more housing immediately, yes. But as people work out where they want to live and what they want to do about that, they may well want to put their own houses in a location that suits them. What we need is somewhere to put the newcomers in the meantime. Because I’m nearly sure more are coming. I propose we take the old log building next to the mill that was the general store in pioneer times, and turn it into a distribution point for general stores, like nails and hand tools and such, that everyone will need and that we’ll need to keep track of. It needs a little work, but it’s a sound structure and we need a place in a central location to put things we use frequently. We can’t just go to the hardware store if we lose something. And we shouldn’t have to walk all the way up the hill to fetch a nail. We should probably move the smithy up here, too, so the means for making and repairing tools would be nearby.”

At that, Steven nodded. “Works for me,” he said

Then Rick pointed to the shops on the little street. “Now let’s look at downtown,” he said.

“This rather oversize building here, the one that’s almost finished.” He pointed to a spot on the map. “It was intended to be the general store. It’s perfect, but not for a grocery store. It’s a two-story structure, very sturdy. Now just imagine. If we were to put in some partitions, several upstairs and a few down, we could easily turn it into an inn for those newcomers who aren’t sure if they’ll stay or are just passing through, or we don’t have anywhere else to put them. And later, for those who want to stay and haven’t built yet, or can’t yet, the next thing to build would be a boarding house, or a bunkhouse, which we can put here, just down from the farmhouse to house single people, temporary workers or the like. That should get us through the next little while and use up what lumber we can get hold of. The shops downtown, we should only use to bed down people temporarily, because we’ll want actual businesses in there, as tradespeople become necessary.”

At that, Marianne Case’s hand went into the air. “Speaking of trades,” she said, “I know I’m out of turn, but if I had a sewing machine, I could use one of those to set up a shop to make clothing for people. Would you all be interested in that?”

Several nodded agreement and the crowd began talking together.

“Great idea. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Rick cautioned, pointing back to his drawing. “That’s wonderful, Marianne, and I think we’re going to find that kind of business very necessary and very soon. I think everyone who wants to try out a small business should just do it. With the understanding that for the foreseeable, it’s all going to be on the barter system, with all of us working as hard as we can and helping each other, just to get enough to keep us all.

“But I want you to look at this other drawing and consider how I’ve laid out these other, future parts. I wanted to allow for areas to be used as we need them, how we need them. I want you all to think about all this and tell me what you think works and what doesn’t. For instance.” He pulled a pencil from his pocket and made X marks on the map. “All these crosshatched areas should be converted into food gardens – not right this minute, but as soon as possible. Why? Because the soil here is very productive bottomland, it’s below the millpond so it will always have water, and it is close to all of us so we can pitch in when needed and give the crops the attention they need. We will likely not be having any lettuce trucked in from California very soon” His voice rang in the sudden silence. “Everything we eat we will have to grow or forage for. Fortunately, Moira has seeds for just about everything. But the distance between seeds and food is marked by toil and sweat. We should start immediately if we want to be getting fall crops in.”

Steven asked to speak next, and what he said was a surprise.

“ I want to take up the matter of these newcomers and their farm now. I think this is the right place for it, while we’re discussing plans for the overall village. Because I have another thought on what to do about the sisters’ offer of their stock and the beehives. They’re offering to bring all their worldly goods and move off their farm. But it’s a pretty darn good farm, and it’s closer to us than we may have thought. There’s just a great big hill between us. But in the shape it’s in, with its good barns and its milking parlor and its well-built home, their place is exceptionally well equipped. I’ve been looking at maps of the area, and the sisters’ land actually abuts the park at a point just around the river bend. I’m wondering if the sisters might want to just stay where they are now that they know they have neighbors who can offer help in need. We could even extend the perimeter fence to enclose both places within the village. There are some nice house sites over there facing the river, and some good pasturage, and we can hold the area between for small industry as it develops. We’d leave the fields in place, and clear some more areas of bottomland as needed to add to our cropland. Even with the livestock we have now, we’ll soon need more forage. And they have a regular dairy already set up down there. They can even make cheese.” At this a cheer went up and the level of enthusiasm rose markedly.

Reatha was beaming and Ruthie began to cry openly.

“I was so hating the thought of moving,” Ruthie said. “Our family has had that place for four generations. But we just didn’t want to be alone anymore. Yes, yes. Of course we’ll stay.”

To that end, Steven asked Eldon to first help build another buckboard wagon so the sisters could travel to and from their farm to run the projected school, and then, with the help of Rickard, to begin designing that school.

By this time Moira’s smile had widened until she thought it might crack her face wide open. She set down her agenda and just let people talk, and by the afternoon’s end the village was officially named Falling Spring, Marianne Case had a clothing and “notions” shop on Main Street, Nancy Langston revealed her talent as a weaver and asked for the shop next to Marianne to set up her loom to eventually produce cloth for Marianne’s use. Best of all, Grandpa John Langston had asked for help in clearing the last of the threshed oats from the broad threshing floor in the middle of the large barn, and to get it done before the next Saturday. Then he invited them all to a dance.

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