Swamp Kings 2 (Bayou Bishops #20)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Gideon gathered a dozen capable men and ordered the rest to guard, making damn sure they understood that the woman in his tent was one hundred percent his and to protect her with their life.

As they ran toward the incoming threat, fresh snow clung to their every step, slowing their pace.

“Is it military?” Kaine wondered right behind him as the headlights lit up the lone mountain road.

“It’s definitely off-road to make it this far,” he huffed. “It’s getting ahead of us. We need to cut sharp.”

They redirected their path and finally got close. He signaled a stop and turned. “ When they pass, we blade every tire,” he ordered.

Gideon looked up at the sky as the engine groan got louder, finding nothing but stars.

“They stopped,” Flint muttered.

Fuck. Gideon led them back to the tree line and weaved along the edge as they backtracked. When they got close enough, he held up his hand and crouched low.

“Is that a bus?” Pike wondered.

“Loaded with women and kids?” Shaw added.

Gideon continued closer, stopping suddenly when several men appeared in front of the bus. He signaled for complete silence as he took aim with his rifle, using the scope to see, the rest following his lead.

A woman joined them, looking all around. “Are you sure this is the place?”

“No, I’m not sure, but it’s what the device says,” a man answered as more men joined them at the front of the vehicle.

“What the hell are they,” Kaine muttered.

Gideon assumed he meant the three giant men with long white hair in black leather that reached the ground. Or maybe the bald-headed tattooed one with the dark shades and chain décor. Who the hell were these people?

Time to find that out. “You’re trespassing on private land,” Gideon yelled, conveying his threat. “We’ve got an army of sharp shooters with high caliber rifles trained at your heads. State your business.”

One of the men’s hands went up while the monster ones seemed to stare right at them.

“We’re not here to make any trouble,” another man with wavy black hair called back. “We’re just looking for a woman who needs our help.”

“Oh boy,” Pike said. “You think they mean your woman?”

The woman from before came back out and the man tried to hurry her back in. “Just let me try and talk to him!” she pled.

“Do it from here,” he ordered, putting her behind the vehicle.

“But will they hear me?”

“They will hear if you yell, Ma Petite,” he assured .

“What if they shoot you?” she worried.

“They might if you don’t hurry and talk to them.”

“E-excuse me sirs,” she called out, her voice barely carrying.

Gideon sighed and lowered his rifle, and his men followed suit.

“I know this is going to sound very strange, but… I need you to listen to me. And to trust me. And believe what I’m going to tell you.” She paused and whispered, “Do you think they can hear me?”

“We’re listening,” Gideon called out.

“Oh good,” she yelled.

“My name is Beth. This is my husband, Bishop. We’re from Louisiana. The swamps to be exact. We belong to a community of Kings.”

“Ma Petite, I don’t think they care about that.”

“I’m giving context,” she said, making the men chuckle.

“They’re not a threat,” Shaw said, returning his rifle to the holster on his back. They all did the same as Gideon stepped out from the trees. “We’re coming to meet you,” he called. “In peace,” he added.

The woman gave a happy clap and smile, hurrying back into the bus while Gideon wondered what the hell they were walking into. They may not be a physical threat, but Gideon couldn’t shake the feeling that the nature of their business would flip their lives in ways none of them were ready for. Especially him.

****

Gideon aimed for the man she referred to as her husband, holding his hand out as he came. “Name’s Voss,” he said before him.

“Bishop,” he greeted, giving his hand a solid shake, then turning to the smiling woman next to him. “My wife, Beth.” He turned to the man on his left with a long scar on his face. “This is Seer, my spiritual advisor who tries to keep me out of trouble.”

Voss nodded and shook his hand, finding a similar mellow vibe in the blue eyes. “I’m not the best at the job,” he muttered.

“This is Zodak, he doesn’t shake hands due to a uh… nerve hypersensitivity. Nothing contagious, just makes touch painful.”

Voss gave him a single nod, finally eyeing the three odd men with the white-blonde hair, he realized now.

“And those are our brothers Fetch, Fathom and Fin.”

Voss didn’t even try to conceal his surprise at those names. “Every family has a few of those,” he muttered, actually getting a handshake from all three, but zero vibes, making him more curious than before.

“What’s up with all the women and children?” Kaine wondered.

Voss turned to his suspicious adviser. “And this is my spiritual guide, Obadiah Shaw.” He got the rest of the introductions out of the way before returning to the topic. “Are they displaced?”

“We rescued them about a hundred miles back,” the Bishop man said. “They were abducted by a group of thugs. Mothers and children that lost everything. Banned together after the shit show started.”

He glanced at the faces pressed against the window, pain and loss permanently etched in their expressions. “How’d you manage that?” Voss wondered.

“Is that her?” the wife wondered, angling her head behind them.

Voss turned, finding Mabel stalking toward them with that foolish fearlessness on her face. He made his way to her, the love he’d had for that strength nowhere in sight. “What are you doing?” he demanded.

“I’m coming to see what the hell is happening,” she shot out, angry. “I’m a nurse, I don’t hide in tents when threats arrive.” She glanced around him and he blocked her view.

“You need to turn around right now and go back,” he ordered.

She stared at him like he’d lost his mind then shoved past, marching on. “Hello,” she called out. “What’s this all about, now? Are you lost?”

“That’s her,” another woman said, staring at her.

“Are you sure?” the wife whispered .

“Very.”

Gideon stopped behind Mabel, wanting to strap her against his body with his arms. “I’m Mabel, I’m a nurse,” she announced, eyeing the bus now. “Are these people injured?” She looked up at him. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“This is Mabel, as you’ve heard. Our nurse, as you’ve also heard.” He looked down, finding her staring with expectation.

“And?” she whispered loudly.

And? “And she’s very good at her job and is happy to help however she can.”

She turned completely around and put her hands on her hips. “Really!” she shot out. “I spend the night in your tent and share more than my wonderful mind and I’m just Mabel the nurse now?”

He stared at her, utterly blindsided by that. He looked around and did what he’d first wanted to do, pulling her against his body. “My apologies,” he said. “Mabel my wife.”

“Whoa!” she cried, turning around in his arms. “ Bloody hell, that’s a bit of a sky-dive?”

“Is it?” he said, realizing she would force the issue, right there in public.

“It is!” she assured.

“Well, be whatever you want, woman, but to me, you’re my wife. And I’m your husband. There are no in-betweens in my world.”

The Seer man chuckled and said, “Pah-roll deen uhn frair du mah-reh, uhn vray?”

“Oui,” the Bishop said, getting Mabel’s ire aimed at him.

“What is that language,” she demanded. “French?” She looked back at Gideon then back at the offenders. “I don’t speak it, I speak English.”

The Bishop interpreted, “He said ‘spoken like a red-blooded swamp brother’. This is also our way and law where we come from.”

Mabel backed herself against Gideon and he returned to holding her against him. “Well, it’s very different from our customs,” she assured, holding on to his arms. He pulled her tightly against him, needing to kiss her now. “Not that it isn’t romantic,” she added, glancing up at him. He stole a quick kiss from her bossy lips, needing the world to know exactly what she meant to him. At least the men in his world.

The Bishop’s wife was suddenly before them with her hand out. “I’m Beth.”

Mabel took her hand in both of hers. “I’m Mabel,” she all but cooed then sucked in her breath. “You’re expecting?”

“I am,” she beamed with a huge smile, eagerly waving the other girl over. “This is my sister, Maggie. Seer has visions and she draws them. It’s a gift she has. We’re here because he had a vision of us rescuing you.”

There it fucking was. The flip on their lives. No, not theirs. His.

“I don’t…understand,” Mabel said, looking up at Gideon then back at them as she gripped his arms tighter. “I don’t need rescuing. I’m here of my own choosing. I work here as a nurse.” She looked at the bus. “But…you did rescue them, though,” she praised, seeming to feel bad they came for nothing.

“Are we sure this vision is right?” Bishop asked his surprised Seer while Gideon stroked his fingers along Mabel’s arms.

“Brother, I have the visions, I don’t always know exactly what they mean.”

“I drew what I saw,” the Maggie girl assured, looking at her sister. “Exactly what I saw, nothing else.”

“Then we interpreted it wrong,” Bishop muttered, sounding like a man who risked everything to drive across a broken country for nothing.

“Well, wait a minute,” Mabel said. “What about these women and children? Did the vision show you them?”

“No,” the Seer man said, shaking his head.

“There you have it,” she explained simply.

Gideon leaned to her ear. “Care to clue me in?”

“Well, don’t you have homes you’ve built? They can stay in those, can’t they? I know you had other plans, but we can build more?”

Gideon regarded the women and children on the bus, then glanced at Shaw who nodded. He locked gazes with their Bishop. “If the mothers accept, we’ll care for them as our own. They’ll have food and shelter and our protection.”

They all exchanged looks. “This is right,” the Bishop’s wife said, nodding. “It’s right.”

Bishop put his arm around her and nodded once at Voss. “The boss has spoken.”

“So, they can stay?” Mabel asked hopefully, glancing up at him.

He lowered and kissed her. “They can.”

She squealed and turned in his arms, hugging his neck. “Thank you!”

“The lodgings are up the mountain a ways, about a mile,” Voss said to Bishop, looking at the road then their vehicle. “Guess you can make it in that. I’ll get my men, and we’ll lead the way.”

****

It was early morning by the time they got the women and children all situated and settled. From the cabin in the rig, Fetch watched the goodbyes, keenly aware of their smiles and tears. Relief. Joy. It brought a particular stillness inside him he didn’t quite have a name for. His gaze paused on the little girl he’d had quite a conversation with.

She’d tugged on his coat shortly after their rescue and when he’d turned, she’d squinted up at him, her mocha eyes full of wonder.

“Are you an angel,” she asked.

He knelt before her, putting their eyes level. “I am Fetch.”

“Fetch,” she repeated. “Is that another name for an angel?” she wondered, her pure curiosity making him smile.

“It’s more like what I do. Do you know what fetch means?”

She gave a big nod. “Puppies fetch bones. Do you fetch bones?”

His smile grew. “I prefer to fetch… things that make people sad,” he explained, being careful with her little mind.

She narrowed her gaze. “How do you fetch sadness?” she wondered, all business about it.

“I fetch what makes people sad and throw it right in the trash,” he explained .

Her gaze lowered and Fetch’s blood sparked with anticipation of her next words. “My daddy was a fetcher,” she said, scratching her cheek with her little dirty fingers. “He always fetched my sadness and threw it in the trash.”

Fetch pulled himself from the memory and watched as his little friend talked to the tiny doll the men had gifted her. What was she telling it? He sent a wave of energy through the air and grazed her cheek. She scratched it and put the little doll in the crook of her arm, rocking it. He realized she was singing to it. He sent another wave, tapping her on the shoulder.

Her head popped up and she looked around. Finally, her eyes found him, and he raised his hand, putting it on the glass.

Her tiny mouth spread with a big smile, and she waved even bigger at him then showed him her doll.

The rig began to pull away and he breathed on the glass, drawing a heart in the condensation. She drew a heart in the air in return.

He held her gaze as long as he could, curious with the strength in them. He faced forward, his mind turning to those wicked men they’d rescued her from, wanting to revisit them.

“You made a friend,” Fathom mused behind him.

Fetch stroked his finger over his lips, not answering or opening himself to his nosy brother.

“What’s her name?” Fin asked.

Fetch’s finger paused on his mouth. He didn’t know.

He shot up from the sofa and opened the door, hopping out.

“Did Fetch just jump out?” he heard Maggie wonder as he made his way back, hearing the brakes engage on the rig.

“Just fetching a name,” he called over his shoulder then stopped in his tracks at seeing his little nameless friend standing in the road, holding her doll toward him.

He ran the short distance and knelt before her. “I forgot to get your name,” he said, taking hold of the doll.

“Lucy. Renee. Bernard.” She said all three with careful articulation. “My mommy called me Lucille and my daddy called me Renee. ”

Called. His smile faded. “Is your mommy here?”

She shook her head. “My real mommy went visit Jesus with daddy.” She looked back then eyed him. “I got new ones to take care of me till they come back from their visit. You can have her if you want,” she said about the doll. “I named her Fetch, like you. When you’re sad, she can fetch it and throw it in the trash.”

Fetch stood and turned his back to her as warmth rushed through circuits and sinew alike, overriding the steadiness in his nerves. It almost felt like a malfunction, a soft surge he didn’t expect but wanted to keep.

He faced her and lowered to his knees, stroking her head with his hands. “Lucy,” he said, petting her hair. “I don’t want your doll to be my fetchling. I want you to.”

She angled her head at him. “What you mean?”

“I want…” He paused, angling his head at her, drinking in her pure gaze. “I would lo ve to take care of you till your mommy and daddy come back from their visit.”

Her face scrunched up as she regarded him. “Like a daddy?” she wondered.

The word struck him at the very core of his powers. “Yes. Like a daddy.”

She glanced back for a few seconds then looked right at him. “Does that mean you’ll fetch the sad things for me and throw ‘em in the trash?”

He took her tiny hands in his and looked down at them. “Yes, my little fetchling,” he said, sending the words deep into her mind where she’d know they were true. “I will always fetch the sad things and throw them right in the trash.”

“And will you carry me up high and make me fly like an airplane?” she checked.

“An airplane?” he laughed, lifting her off the ground and soaring her through the air, her squealing joy bringing a million sparks in his blood as he watched her happy face. He held her against his body tightly. In return, she wrapped her legs and arms around him, putting her head on his shoulder .

“Can I tell my other mommas’ bye?”

“Yes, you can,” he said, compelled to press his lips on her forehead. “Then you will be all mine?”

She gave big nods and a loud kiss on his cheek. “Until mommy and daddy come back,” she reminded.

“Yes,” he said, making his way back to the other mothers for her goodbye. “You’ll be all mine until mommy and daddy come back.”