“Yeah, I see what you mean. Since we don’t have to rush, let’s think about how we can get them here more or less safely.” Frank thought a moment. “Are you going to be around this afternoon, like three-thirty or four?”
“I could be.”
“Good. I have to go to a meeting now, but why don’t you come back then and I can spend more time with you?”
“Okay, I’ll be here,” Santee said. Busy man, he thought as he left, but he was real smooth in getting rid of me.
Santee was back a little before four, and Frank seemed more relaxed. He said, “I’ve found a place for you to stay, if you want it, a guest cottage a block from the big church. Small, but Ruth Tippett will be happy to let you use it. Her husband was a Korean veteran, and she told me to specifically say she’d be proud to have you.”
Santee grinned at him. “Maybe she wouldn’t be if she knew some of the shit I pulled.”
They talked briefly about the arrangements for Mrs. Tippett’s cottage, and then Frank changed the subject. “Listen, I’ve been thinking. The army’s growing. We’ve been getting more and more raw recruits in, and I mean raw—they don’t even know how to stand in line. It would sure be a big help if we could find somebody with military experience who could show them the basics and…”
“No!” Santee snapped. “I can see where you’re heading, and the answer is no! I appreciate the help finding a house and all, but I’m not going to be a goddamn training instructor for anybody. Keep me out of the fucking chain of command! Remember, when I was in the army I broke a colonel’s jaw. And the last time I had a job, I was unloading a truck and the driver about run over me and I whupped his ass. Big sucker, he was, and I’m a little shit, so they believed me when I said he started it, but I still had to go. And the time before that… well, I made sergeant three different times. Never mind.” He took a deep breath. “I guess I’m saying I’m not cut out for taking orders any more. I just get pissed off when they turn stupid.” He glared defiantly.
“Okay,” Frank said in a flat tone, “message received.”
Santee felt a little bad. “It’s not that I don’t want to help. Maybe I can do something else. Reload ammo or something. I do know guns—well, rifles and handguns anyway…” He trailed off.
“I’ll think about it,” Frank said.
* * *
A week later, Santee had settled into Mrs. Tippett’s cottage and Frank dropped by with a proposal.
“Chief Weapons Scrounger? Hell of a title,” Santee said.
“Yeah, but we need one. Mike and I were talking. Lots of folks around here probably have hunting guns they aren’t using. And there are the gun nuts, too; who knows what they have. Between them there’ll be guns in all sorts of different calibers and conditions. So your job would be asking people for their spare weapons and then sorting them out, and the ammo too. We don’t have an armorer or anything.”
“Hmm,” Santee said slowly. “You said this is an army job? Who would I report to?”
“Just me, if you want to call it reporting. No chain of command—let’s just say Mike and I tell you the job we want done and you do it.”
Santee closed his eyes and thought a long moment. “Okay. All right. I can do that.” Have to do something; I’ll go crazy here otherwise. “When would you want me to start? I still need to make one last trip to the cabin.”
“You can start when you’re ready,” Frank said, looking relieved. “Welcome to the U.S. Army.”
“I’ll need some help if I’m going to scrounge weapons. Someone who knows the town, and maybe Eddie Cantrell; he seems sharp enough to pick up the job without a month of training.”
“There’s a map of the town on the wall at the hardware store. Or you might still be able to buy one for two bucks at the mayor’s office if they still have any left. Eddie can help you, but we can’t spare anyone else. All the adults around here are already trying to do a thousand things at once.