Page 76 of Swamp Kings 2

“Are we sure this vision is right?” Bishopasked 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 theirBishop. “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 thegoodbyes, 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.

---