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On a Dark Horse	By : TarnishedArmour Category: G through L > Jericho Views: 1536 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Jericho is wholly owned by CBS and those affiliated with & responsible for the production and creation of the show. I make no profit from the use of said fandom, except warm-fuzzies from reviews.

Chapter List
- 8
- 9
- 10
A/N: I'll be fudging the timeline a teensy bit, but working with the original events as much as possible…within reason. I'm not going to keep Mimi in town for two weeks or have everyone sitting on their thumbs for those weeks, waiting for the power to come back on. It smacks of lazy acceptance, which is not a rural attitude. Also notes re: Jonah's past/town relationships from teen years & before. If some things seem to be happening too fast, bear with me. Nothing is so clean and easy in life.
Time frame: Bombs + 8(ish) at the end; covers Bombs + 4-7 in a semi-gloss prose. Yes, last chapter was day 6, but this one has some flashbacks.
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As it turned out, the night had been more restful than Jonah had thought. By the end of the shower and loosening all the knotted muscles they could, he and Aylah were so exhausted they could barely dry off and stumble into bed. He slid under the covers on the side of the bed next to the door, pulling her close and relaxing as she cuddled into him. Before he drifted off, he heard her tired explanation.
"You've got enough headaches right now, Jonah. I'm willing to wait and bitch at you when things get settled into a new routine."
"Much appreciated, sweetheart," he murmured. Neither remembered falling asleep.
*****
Over the next four days, Miss Maddie implemented the school plan, the last bits from the two train wrecks were pulled and stored, and the only things on the tracks left to tackle were the fuel tanks.
Jonah was in Johnston's office with the revised town council, which had been increased by the neighbourhood representatives in place, not the original council. It was a change that had come from a chance comment from none other than Gray Anderson just hours before he left.
"You don't have all the answers, Mayor. What about the ideas the people here have?" It was another bid for election that Johnston did not want to hear right then, and his response had been uncharacteristically terse.
"Fine. Get it organized, Gray. If you can find one person in every major section of town who's willing to come up with solutions, not create problems, get them in here. You've got until you leave this afternoon--and it'd better be from a neighbourhood meeting, because the question will be asked, of the representative and of the people in the neighbourhood." He'd turned to the council that was currently in session and looking at the windmill proposal from Carl. "Anyone object?"
No one on the original town council had any problems with it, mostly because they were also tired of listening Gray moan about every single thing that Johnson tried to do. It didn't really surprise anyone that Gray hadn't managed to make it onto the council as his own neighbourhood's representative., not just because he wouldn't be present for the initial meeting or meetings. While Jonah had been diplomatic enough not to laugh in the man's face about it, he couldn't help the tiny smirk he got watching Gray huff and puff leave for Topeka with a little black rain cloud hovering over his head. No few of the new councilmen were those neighbourhood appointed people who had attended the meeting with Mayor Green to hear the inventory of the train supplies.
Jonah was asking for any plastic containers, clean, of course, that were large enough to hold a few dozen gallons of gasoline. What he got instead was a surprise.
"Been thinkin' 'bout those tankers," Andrew Perkins said, rubbing his chin. "Got to thinkin' about our old railroad yard--never was worth spit, but it was busy during the Wars and in the fifties--and I recollect that there's some old hand-cars out there. Pushers and pullers. We get those checked over, greased up, and maybe we can just bring those cars into the railyard."
"Sounds good," replied one of the men who'd worked steadily on the hauling, "but how do we get those cars off the tracks? We got too many empties and a downed engine in front of those tankers."
"Point. A point," Perkins conceded. "If someone can figure that part out in the next day or so, it'd be soon enough. The handcars need to be checked over anyway."
"Who remembered those old handcars, Perk?" asked Jenny Bailey, Mary's grandmother. "I'd forgotten them, myself, and my daddy worked on the railroad for thirty years."
"Well," Perkins said, grinning, "it was one of the neighbourhood kids. He'd done some reading about the railroad in history class and enjoyed it so much that he kept on lookin'. Got his parents to start gettin' him a model train set, and researched everything he could get his hands on." The smiles around the room made things a little less desperate. "Turns out he's workin' on the mechanical side of things with his schoolin' now," Perkins nodded to Miss Maddie, "and he wanted me to ask when the practical applications classes started. He's been with the mechanical and parts scavenging team for the past few days."
"Still need everything we can dredge up," Maddie said, "but the applications lessons will begin probably next week." She looked over at Jonah. "Your shop and hands ready for lessons?"
"We're close. By the time you're ready to send them over, we'll have the shop rules worked out." Jonah was hammering out the duties and requirements with Aylah, since none of his men were willing to babysit. Aylah wasn't entirely thrilled with the idea, but had reluctantly acquiesced within an hour of meeting Lisinski and finding out about Maddie's request to have Jonah's shop as their center of mechanical work and training, at least until other arrangements could be made. Jonah had the largest garage and machine tool inventory in Jericho, since he and his employees performed all maintenance on his fleet of trucks. Since it was Miss Maddie's idea, Aylah had agreed more quickly than if it had been anyone else's.
Miss Maddie's request had gone against his immediate reaction of maintaining his privacy and control of his territory, but after thinking about it for a minute, he decided it could be a lot worse. Despite the practicality and ability found in farming areas, he did have the most experience man-for-man, and he had the only mechanical-electrical engineer in town. He did, however, reserve the rights to boot anyone from the premises for any reason and to establish the rules as he saw fit. Dr. Mary Magdalene Clarind had taken a long minute to agree, but finally had nodded, including the warning, "There will probably be some girls in that class, Jonah Enoch. You get rules in place for them, too. Some of those young ones you've got out there aren't as disciplined as they'll need to be."
"Understood, Miss Maddie," he'd replied, stifling a groan. How had he forgotten that? Farm and ranch girls did anything that needed to be done, despite the popular fiction of men's work and women's work being divided in the country. Miss Maddie hadn't been a women's rights activist in the traditional sense, or even a civil rights activist, but she made sure her history students knew the difference between the fictional frontier and the real one. And the real one was much, much less forgiving of prejudice than the movies like to make it seem.
The ability to survive in a seemingly friendly environment, not a real sense of fair play, was the reason the Clarind family had become one of the most respected families in Jericho and had been true equals with any and everyone in town. The Clarinds, named for the widow who'd decided she hated her late husband's plantation in Missouri and the inherent injustice of slavery as much as she missed the frontier home she'd grown up in, had come West before the Civil War. Jericho had been comprised of three ranches and assorted cowhands, a tiny brothel, three bars, and a general goods store. The Clarinds, under Miss Clarinda St. Xavier's direction, created a prosperous farm/ranch combination that had made them a force to be reckoned with. Once established, they'd never forced anything. They'd simply stated their piece and waited for the decisions. When their words had been heeded, things had gone well. When they hadn't, nearly everyone in the town had suffered. It hadn't taken long for the unspoken rules to be put into place: The Greens are leaders, strong and steady, but the Clarinds know the land and stock like no others. Over time, that had evolved into "Listen to the Greens--they know what they're doing. Whatever you do, don't ignore the Clarinds' advice--you'll regret it."
Jonah had heeded Miss Maddie's advice about the schoolkids and the rules. He remembered his conversation with Miss Maddie late the night of the town meeting and the one he'd had with Aylah early the next morning.
"I don't like children, Jonah. I'm not interested in babysitting a bunch of numbskulled, hormonally-charged drama-queens in my shop," she'd snapped at him, eyes promising her reaction was mild compared to what she wanted to do and say.
"Your shop?" Jonah asked, raising an eyebrow. "You may live here, you are always welcome, but you don't own anything here except yourself and the clothes you had on your back when you walked in." He flicked the collar of the shirt she was wearing--one of his. He watched as her eyes narrowed. Aylah knew if she pushed him on this he would do something that hurt them both. Cursing herself, she gave ground.
"Fine," she snapped. "They get to show up. They do not get babied. If one of them does something stupid and mangles his hand or cuts off his leg or sets himself on fire, do not blame me." Aylah turned and stomped off, leaving Jonah no chance to tell her that Heather was expected any minute. Jonah had let her go, knowing that this was neither the time nor the place to begin the argument that was lurking on the horizon.
When Heather and Jake had arrived, Jake had greeted her with, "Silence."
She'd nodded and continued working at her drafting table. Jonah had stepped in then, noting that Jake had called her by a nickname she'd never mentioned to him.
"Aylah, this is Jake Green and Heather Lisinski," he said, purposefully addressing his unruly roommate first. He spoke using the same tone Miss Maddie had used on him when he was being particularly boneheaded in her class. It was effective. "Jake and Heather, Aylah Wilson." When no one said anything, he'd added a sarcastic, "It is customary to at least exchange handshakes or nods." Then, in a harder tone, "Aylah."
Grey eyes shot Jonah a dirty look before they turned to Jake and Heather. "Morning, Jake. Heather. I was working on the windmill for the clinic. I think I have a solution, but it's not a pretty one." It was an invitation that Heather, after spending years with "the geeky group" had learned to recognize. She stepped over to the table and looked at the plans.
"There's a more efficient design for in-town," she commented, "but the bones look good. Have you considered how to regulate the voltage output?"
"Mm. Here," Aylah pointed to a section of the design. "This is the quick and dirty route. We don't technically need a governor on here if we direct-tie it and use the existing meter. We can tweak and perfect later, after we've got everything in place, but if we don't get that building set for a loss of fuel…" She let the sentence trail off and watched as Heather nodded.
"Exactly." Heather looked at the height of the building and the blades Aylah had chosen. "You know, if we use an existing 'pinwheel' design from an old water-pump 'mill, we could retain the majority of the efficiency without having to create it." She picked up a pencil and sketched a quick illustration. "Ordinarily, this design, she tapped Aylah's work, "is better for the country, but since this is the 2nd tallest building in the town and the wind is so constant..."
Jonah and Jake stared at the two women as their conversation turned immediately technical. Jake looked over at Jonah with an expression conveying his surprise and confusion. Jonah just shrugged and jerked his head to the side, indicating the younger man should follow him. They'd spent the next hour discussing the possibilities of using the planes at the airfield to create a ferry-and-communication network with Hayes or Rogue River.
When Jake dropped back by to see how Heather was doing and tell her he was heading to see his father about establishing a duster's network, the men had found Aylah and Heather in a deep discussion about the students who would be arriving in the near future. That night, Aylah told Jonah that Heather agreed to teach the basics to the ones who didn't know much or have much practical experience, Aylah agreed to take the more advanced group. Both women had agreed that the best approach to shop safety was the most brutal one--if you don't listen and you get hurt, that's your own damned fault. If you did pay attention and it was an accident, be more careful next time.
*****
Little did Jonah know that Aylah and Heather had debated the tanker car problem earlier in the day and had created their own solution. After driving out there to fill up the cars that they were using to pull in tools from town, they had looked over the remnants of the train and sighed about the fuel that was just sitting there, waiting to be used. Included in their discussion was the layout of the Transport offices, given the changes in location for no few townsmen.
The two regular mechanics in Jericho and a few other repairmen had agreed to move out to Quaker Transport for the duration, or until the exact division of tools and labour could be determined. The farrier, who was also the town's last blacksmith, was an older man with many years behind him. He had elected to stay in his shop off of Elm Avenue instead of moving to Jonah's. He knew where the horses were, and everyone else in town knew where to find him. Besides, he'd pointed out the time it would take to transport and set up his fires and anvils would be better spent with those who had more mobile equipment. He did ask that they send any metals, raw or wrought, to him, since he could always resmelt the metal and get a usable product from it.
The request for any metals they came across got the two women thinking as they siphoned gas from the unleaded tank.
"Too bad Barkly doesn't have this metal," Heather had said, thinking how happy the smith would be.
"True. We could use some sheet metal like this for other things, too. The bearings and rods are good, and that engine is only a little bit beat up. The gears and all will work just fine, and the wiring is worth its over a hundred times its weight in food." Aylah added. They stared at the empty cars for a long time.
"Aylah?" Heather asked, still staring at the train. "You thinkin' what I'm thinkin'?"
"I'm thinking cutting torches and the heavy flatbed." Aylah turned to see Heather's reaction.
"Me, too." Heather looked over at Aylah and her grin grew wider. "I've never taken a train apart before."
"Stick with me, kid," Aylah replied, grinning at her in return. "I'll give you lots of new things to destroy and repurpose." They were both close to laughing by then.
"Starting with this train," they chorused. That was the instant that Heather and Aylah actually decided they could be friends. It had taken them less than an hour to get the torches, fuel tanks, and men out there to begin work. They decided to let the men take over piecing out the boxcars while they tackled the engine itself. When they looked back on it, they agreed that ripping apart that engine was some of the most fun they'd had in their lives, even if figuring out how to get the heavy steel cowling out of the way had been tougher than expected.
*****
Back at the town council, Jonah listened and contributed to the various proposals and debates. When Johnston reached the security question, Jonah finally said something that Gray's staunchest supporter, Mitzi Tredaway, could not let pass. Gray had not yet returned from Topeka area while Jonah had been busy with the trains and the highways, which was probably good for Gray. The relationship between Gray and Jonah had been difficult at first, but had become downright antagonistic. over the past five years It was safe to say that this meeting would not engender any goodwill between the men., even by report. It certainly wouldn't endear Jonah to Mitzi, but then again, she was like Gray's parrot to begin with.
Johnston dreaded Mitzi's loud mouth and Jonah's impatience with idiocy. He was still sick, but he was going into the office each day. This particular day he'd gone in just before the meeting and, to humour Gail, had stayed home during the day. People had come by to see him, of course, but he'd been resting. He'd managed to avoid the antibiotics April had foisted onto him, too. Given the way Gail seemed to be omniscient when it came to men who weren't doing what she thought they should, he figured he'd catch hell for it when he got home. Still, he knew someone had to referee between these two, and he was the one who'd been elected. Literally.
"We need to create a security force for Jericho beyond the sheriff's office. Ordinary people who'll come when the call is issued." Jonah stood up straight as all eyes turned toward him. "It's only been a few days, but I've kept sending out short patrols. Violence is already worse, and it's not going to stay away from here forever. The bypass helps us stay off the radar for most groups, but some of them are going to get here. When they do, what will we have to defend ourselves?"
"Oh, so now you want stormtroopers for Jericho? Your own private little army, answerable only to you? Johnston, I more than one person told you he wouldn't do anything without an eye to his own power in town! Why didn't you shut him down when I Gray told you to?" Mitzi's voice rose and his tone became more shrill. She was an hysteric, even moreso than Gray, and everyone was learning that the hard way.
Johnston ground his teeth and wished Mitzi were a man and thus someone he could punch. As it was, he wished she were Gray, since punching Gray the day the men went out had been downright therapeutic. Right now, he'd be willing to break the ass's jaw. He'd probably manage to get rid of this damned cold if he could do that. A glance at Jonah showed him that, despite the man's own considerable temper, Jonah wasn't about to go off half-cocked. Neither was Johnston--physically or verbally. They both had too much discipline. In the end, it wasn't Johnston that spoke.
"Well, I can see where you might get that idea, Mitzi," Titus Clarind spoke, his words coming slow and clear into the prolonged silence. His usual slow drawl was replaced by the clear, educated voice that he rarely used, preferring the lazy sounds of his ancestor's Southern accents. "You didn't know these men in their younger days. Now, it's true that when you came in from Denver a few years back you got to know about Jonah then, but those of us who've lived here longer can remember a time that Jonah was more like he is today, in these darker times. He's been a good friend to those around here, and a help to us all. Without him, our supplies would be considerably lower and we'd have more problems about who gets what. We would already be looking at rationing everything from food to medical supplies to winter clothes."
Titus stared at the indignant woman and continued gently chiding her, his voice taking on a bit of that homespun drawl now. "Ever'one has a little devil in him. Sometimes that devil gets out more than it should. When times come bad, it matters whether the man follows his devils or his raisin'. No one here can fault Jonah's raisin'; yes, and we can even be glad of his devils, too, since that's what's kept him in a position to turn to us instead of stayin' on the path he was on." Titus turned to Jimmy and Bill. "Deputies, would you please see this lady out? Brother Prowse got a point we need to considah, and we don't need unmannahly int'rruptions in doin' so."
Jonah felt the fight go out of him as Titus spoke his first words. He tensed once or twice when the older man continued speaking about his less-than-stellar past, watching as heads nodded around the room. He still had a long way to go to make up for his sins--if he could. If he really wanted to, and he wasn't entirely sure he did. But between the support he'd just gotten from Titus, including the address he had heard given to his father but not to himself, and the rage that had been in Johnston's eyes, he knew he could at least come home. Surprising as it was, Jonah discovered that all the years after Vietnam and moving from one group of outlaws to another what he'd really wanted was to come home to Jericho and be welcomed again. Maybe he would've been, but after his reception getting off the ship here in the States at the end of his tour in Vietnam, his already nasty attitude had just gotten worse. He'd turned, as Titus said, to his devils, and those devils had gotten a hard hold on him.
Finally, after Mitzi Treadaway was gone from the room and the silence had held to the breaking point, Johnston was able to unlock his jaw and speak.
"Tradition in the West has always held room for a man or woman who's walked the wrong road to change and head down the a better path, just as a man who's walked the right paths can go to the bad. Some call it redemption, but I've always heard it was a man's turn. We can't walk away from that tradition now. Jonah's turned back from where he was." Johnston paused to choke down a coughing fit, taking the moment to begin walking toward the man in question, the soft interruptions in his breathing making it clear that he wasn't grandstanding as much as biding his time before he could finish speaking. His voice was raspy but sure as he continued. "I, for one, am glad to see it. Only question I have is," he said as finished his walk over to Jonah and clapped his hand onto the leather-clad shoulder, "what took you so damned long, Jo?"
Jonah managed to look around the room, his throat oddly uncooperative. He had to clear it before he could speak.
"Guess Miss Maddie didn't get after me quick enough," he said, desperate to lighten the mood. Some of the younger people looked shocked that he would say such a thing about the sweet old lady, but everyone who'd known Miss Maddie in school--or had known of her--dissolved into chuckles. Jonah clapped Johnston on the shoulder in return, creating a picture that had been seen many times in Jericho between friends. He managed to choke out one word in a muted whisper, something he'd nearly forgotten about during his hell-raising years. "John."
Jonah wasn't good at emotional displays, but he believed, hoped, prayed Johnston would hear what he needed to say in that one simple syllable. Was this old friendship too badly broken to repair? It'd never be the exact same--they'd both done too much living for that--but maybe they could find a way to...to... Words failed him even in his thoughts. Those weren't tears in his eyes, just the pain from the lights. The lie was no comfort to him as he turned his gaze to the room and waited for Miss Maddie to answer him.
Johnston felt Jonah return the old gesture of affection and heard the quiet, "John." Johnston squeezed his old friend's shoulder in reply, hoping he hadn't just made the worst mistake of his life. Was thirty-six years of opposition too much to fix what had been broken? He'd get the chance to find out. Damn, but it had been too long.
"Wanted to, honey," she called back, tears of joy and pride standing in her eyes, "but you finally managed to run faster than me." The tears didn't fall, but she was finally seeing what she'd known was in Jonah all along. And now the others could see it, too. Her brother, Titus, knew what she had known ever since Jonah had brought Aylah to their farm and told them what had happened to her. She knew then that he could return to the right path when he'd left that broken girl in their care, but it would take something drastic to make it happen. Finding something more drastic than nuclear bombs going off in American cities would be tough. This was the moment. She'd been right.
The older generations, oblivious to the intense emotions in Johnston, Jonah, and Miss Maddie, laughed as they could vividly recall Miss Maddie chasing down any wayward youth--and catching even the football and soccer players. Only time and age had made her slow down a bit, but, combined with a leg injury from a riding accident, the three meant she'd finally had to succumb to the fact that she may be tougher than ever, but she wasn't as young as she used to be.
After a moment of much-needed levity, the discussion returned to the question of security, and Jonah outlined the need for some sort of group to help keep Jericho safe from those who would try to take advantage of her, available methods of transportation for roads and off-road, and the limits those who became a part of this group would have to abide by. The need to find a new sheriff was also addressed, but tabled for a later date.
By the end of the meeting, it was determined that veterans would be asked to step in to at least train those who signed up, and that the ones who wanted to join had to be at least fifteen. On a farm or ranch, fifteen was old enough to be considered a full hand, and a hand would fight for his home--the brand, as it was called among ranchers.
Johnston carried the news home to Gail, who chided him for being late, but applauded his defense of Jonah. Johnston knew she still held reservations about the man, but she was willing to look forward instead of backward, and that was as much as he could ask of her.
*****
Jonah couldn't help but smile as he started his car to head home after the meeting. No, he wasn't the most admired person in town, and he certainly wasn't what anyone could call loved by the general populace, but word would get around. He looked around the familiar streets and the dark figures heading home, huddled against the cold wind.
There was Davey's. Over there the CyberJolt Café, which had been The Pizza Garden, and before that Ace's Wild. That spot near the benches was where he and Johnston had fought over some girl in high school--funny that he couldn't even remember what she had looked like. He did remember that Johnston had always had a vicious left hook and breaking Johnston's nose that night. It had been a fair fight, and they'd ended up down by the bridge, looking at the stars and occasionally griping about their injuries. Ice, antiseptic, and bandages had been provided by Mayor Green's secretary. The price had been a scolding, but she'd known both boys since they were in diapers, so they took it without comment.
Over on the corner of Main and Crossing Creek Road he'd run Mayor Green's car into Melissa Culver's fruit stand. It was Gracie Lee's store now, but then it had been the local chain store. He'd been fifteen and had had to pay for damages and fix what he could. As he recalled, Johnston had helped him then, supposedly because it was half Johnston's fault. Johnston had provided the keys to the car, which had been Mayor Eric Jacob Green's new Plymouth, and the other half of the bet, namely that Jonah couldn't drive the Plymouth through town without shifting gears more than twice. Jonah knew that Johnston had agreed to the penance because Melissa's daughter was a looker. Turned out that the girl had been dating a college boy, so he and Johnston had been left to speculate which one she would have picked while they drowned their sorrows in a bottle of rotgut.
This felt like the Jericho he knew, the way it had been so long ago. The drive was smooth and pleasant. He passed the town limits and headed over the bridge, his heart oddly light after everything that had been said and done, little of which had lessened his own responsibilities.
Home. It had a nice ring to it.
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On a Dark Horse