warning was where his desire to participate in life beyond his cabin ended. He expected he wouldn’t see another living soul for months, maybe years, and that suited him just fine.
Don’t tempt the devil.
No sooner had he had the thought than the motion alarm sounded, immediately proving him wrong. Hoping his visitor was a bear, he turned to check the video camera, and swore aloud. A middle-aged, slightly overweight man was huffing and puffing his way up the incline toward the porch, head down, steps short. His gaze narrowed, Ben took his Mossberg shotgun from its usual place by the front door and stepped outside.
He wasn’t trying to be stealthy, because he wanted the visitor to realize he was there and not come any closer. At the sound of the door closing, the trespasser stopped, lifted his head, and immediately fixed his gaze on the shotgun. He lifted his right hand in a staying motion. “Mornin’. I’m Mike Kilgore, from the valley.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You have a big-ass rock in your driveway. I had to park at the end of the drive and walk up.”
“I know. I put it there. What can I do for you?” Ben’s tone was matter-of-fact. He didn’t intend to do anything, he just wanted this man gone.
Mike Kilgore took a couple of deep breaths so he could speak more easily. “We’re trying to get organized, in case . . . you know. Things happen, people need to be notified. Anyway, no one had your phone number or someone would have called, so I volunteered to drive up and talk to you.” He wiped the sweat off his face. The early morning was still fairly cool, but walking up the drive would wring a sweat from almost anyone. Ben could do it without effort, but he made a point of being able to do so. Graying hair stuck to Kilgore’s temples, and his cheeks were unnaturally pink. “We’re also putting together a list of contacts—you know, next of kin, in case something happens, to let them know after things normalize.”
Ben gave a brief thought to his father, a rancher in Montana, who didn’t give a shit about any of his kids. His mother was dead. His father had remarried and the other kids were Ben’s half siblings, none of whom he was close to. They might be interested in knowing if he’d died, but only to find out if they’d inherited his stuff, in which case they’d be disappointed.
A good neighbor would invite the man in for a drink of water or even a cup of coffee, but Ben wasn’t a good neighbor and didn’t intend to be. He maintained his stance on the porch with the shotgun in his hand. If no one around had his phone number, then it should be obvious that he didn’t want calls. Or visits.
But Mike Kilgore wasn’t about to leave before he accomplished his mission. And now that he was closer, and Ben was seeing him in person, he altered his impression of Kilgore from “overweight” to “stocky muscular.”
“Anyway,” Kilgore continued, “the school will be our community meeting place. If the power does go down, that’s where we’ll gather this afternoon to get things organized. At times like this we need to band together, neighbor helping neighbor. We’d like to have you join us. You have some useful skills, and, hell, under some circumstances you might need us. I’m a plumber, by the way. Everyone eventually needs a plumber.”
That might be a universal truth, but Ben didn’t respond.
“My wife and I live on Myra Road, down the way from Sela Gordon.” Kilgore swiped at his sweaty forehead. “You know Sela, right? Owns the little store on the highway? I think I’ve seen your truck there. Some of the women want her to be in charge, but”—he shrugged—“she isn’t willing, and I’m thinking she might not be strong enough for the job, anyway. On the other hand, you’d be perfect.”
“No.” Ben’s rejection was swift and flat. He had no desire to be in charge of anyone other than himself. He’d had enough of that in the military.
Kilgore took a step back. “Well, if you change your mind . . .”
“I won’t.”
He glanced at the shotgun. “Think about—”
Ben gave a deliberate, definite shake of his head.
Kilgore heaved a sigh. “Well, I tried. If you change your mind, come to the meeting at the school.” He looked down Ben’s driveway and scowled. “I’m going to have to back down