Deacon suggests that they send help the the Harlichs before they ask for it. He doesn’t want to get there too late.
“They’re our allies, Mac. I’ve already spoken to the folks in Alabama, Georgia and Mississippi. The Carolina Clans will be getting back to me later. I propose to send members of all the Clans, under the leadership of a Shine Clan member.”
“Who is this ally, General?” MacGregor was going to get answers before he committed himself or his people.
“They’re Hannah’s people by rite of birth, the Harlichs.”
Stunned silence echoed this pronouncement. Amber looked horrified. MacGregor blinked rapidly, apparently confused by this pronouncement.
“I’ve heard of them, all right,” he managed to say, quietly easing back in his seat. “Didn’t know they were friends of yours.”
“Allies, Owaine. Unfortunately, there’s a group of criminals who are encroaching on their territory.”
“And why are we supposed to solve their problem?” Amber Garwood wasn’t happy at all.
“We aren’t solving it, Miss Garwood. We are aiding allies in a time of trouble.”
“I don’t like the idea,” she snapped. “I don’t see any reason to send our people into danger.”
“Because,” MacGregor interrupted, “they would do the same for us.”
“Well, it’s settled. We’ll be sending aid to the Harlichs,” Deacon stated flatly. “How many we send, and from where, will depend upon the various Clan leaders.”
“You can count on my Clan,” MacGregor said. “I’ve got fifty men with me. They’re at your disposal, Deacon.
“Thank you, Owaine. Garwood, what about Texas?”
Captain Garwood looked uncomfortable, obviously wishing she had the authority to deny the request.
“I’ll have to confer with Colonel Metzger. I should have an answer for you by this afternoon, General.” She pointedly ignored Fiddlestix.
Deacon rose abruptly, shoving his chair back from the table with a loud screech of wood on stone. “I think I’ll just give John a call myself.”
“That’s not necessary, General. I’m perfectly capable….”
“Nonsense, it’s been awhile since I talked to him.”
Jasper left abruptly, heading to the communications room to put Deacon’s words into action.
Deacon held the chair for Fiddlestix to rise. Taking her hand on his arm, he guided her toward the door, indicating an end to the meeting. Garwood tried to engage him in conversation, but he turned toward the communications room. Instead of going in, Fiddlestix chatted with the men guarding the door until Deacon came back out.
“So what’s your opinion of Amber Garwood?” he asked as they walked to the cafeteria.
“I don’t like her.”
“Not saying I disagree,” he held the door for her, steering her toward the serving line. “But why not?” He grabbed a tray and silverware.
“There’s something she’s not telling us. Call it a hunch.”
His hand hovered over the cornbread and butter beans. “A hunch? Hannah, your hunches scare the piss outta me. I’ve never known you to be wrong.”
Karl had made a similar remark. It made her sound like some sort of fortuneteller. She had to admit the men had a point. Thinking back on the last sixteen years, most of which had been spent in the military, she realized she could not remember a time when her intuition had failed her. Uncanny, some might call it. Deacon was speaking again, she focused on him as she served herself absently from the line.
“I spoke to Metzger. He agrees with me, he’s authorizing a platoon to come right away. He seems to have full confidence in Garwood.”
“He shouldn’t, she wants his job.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Everything about her. She wants to be in charge. The fact she has to answer to anyone really pisses her off. She’s a sneaking lowlife and I don’t trust her.”
“Do you want me to pursue the Varin matter?” he asked, suddenly changing the subject. “I have spoken to the other leaders, giving them a heads up, but I haven’t conveyed her husband’s message.”
© 2018 Dellani Oakes