Reaper didn’t turn, but Gabriel edged forward so that his head was next to Reaper’s.
“This is Whiskey’s daddy. Whiskey’s daddy is called Gabriel. Gabriel, this is Amber and Cory.”
“Good morning, Amber. Hi Cory. Look how much Whiskey likes both of you. It’s nice to see you making friends. But you look cold. Let’s get you wrapped up.” Gabriel tugged his fleece shirt from over his head, but as he bunched it up to help Cory put it on, both kids scooted backward out of his reach.
Reaper put his hand on the toe of Gabriel’s boot. He spoke under his breath in a tone that traveled to Gabriel's ears but no farther. “Slow and steady. If you get nowhere, that’s fine. At least we know where they are. And it looks like, besides being cold and wet, a few bruises, and cut-up feet, they’re doing okay. I need to call this in.” He looked up at the thick canopy of pines, then turned an assessing eye three-sixty. “Comms are going to be hard around here. This might take me a minute. I’ll be back.” He didn’t grin at the kids; he kept his face very neutral. “Amber and Cory, Gabriel and Whiskey are going to sit with you, so you aren’t afraid. I’m going to go call the helpers who will take you back to mommy and daddy. Okay?”
Neither one answered, but Gabriel saw that Reaper was focusing hard on their faces, watching for nuances.
Gabriel didn’t see anything on Amber’s face at all; she was a blank canvas.
But the mention of mommy put hunger in Cory’s eyes.
And that, Gabriel thought, was what Reaper was looking for. Were these kids frightened of mom or dad? Had they run away to protect themselves?
From the filth and clothing, Gabriel couldn’t assess their bodies and didn’t have the expertise, anyway, to tell if there was any abuse. That wasn’t his role. His role was to find the children,then provide a sense of safety and, if they’d allow him, perhaps some comfort.
Gabriel knew that steps were being missed in this search. Daniel had talked about how joyful Whiskey got after he located her target. She’d get not one buttwocheesy hot dogs as her reward. Gabriel hadn’t had cheesy hot dogs or any hot dog for that matter in his fridge. So he’d grabbed a couple pieces of leftover bacon and hoped they’d be received with the same enthusiasm.
The celebration of joyfully jumping around and praising Whiskey seemed wholly out of place. And surely, if it had been the right thing to do, Reaper would be the one to start up the whooping and bacon feeding.
Reaper and Whiskey alike had taken this down to a very low-key level.
Gabriel thought back to when he saw Reaper’s posture shift, and he wondered what he had seen or heard from Whiskey that told him they were close to bingo. He’d ask when they were driving home.
As Reaper slipped away, Amber remained blank, and Cory looked as if he wondered whether he would need to protect his sister from that stranger-man.
Gabriel had practice with his nephews and had a few tactics up his sleeve.
“You know what time it is?” Gabriel asked as he reached for his backpack. “Whiskey’s breakfast time.”
Opening the pack lid, he reached in and took out his mess kit and Whiskey’s collapsible bowl. The mess kit was nice and neat; one side of the kit consisted of a bowl-shaped plate, the other of a fry pan. The handle twisted over the bowl to hold the sides together like a clamshell. Loosening the nut and pulling apart the different pieces, Gabriel picked up the bright orangemug that sat in the center, and he filled it with water before filling Whiskey’s bowl from his camel water bag.
Next, Gabriel filled the plate with kibble for Whiskey, unwrapped two chocolate meal-replacement bars, and set them in the skillet with the cup of water.
The boy’s eyes were hard on the chocolate bars and water.
Still, Gabriel went slow. If they took off running, especially if they ran in opposite directions, that would be pretty shitty. He didn’t want to have to snatch running children off their feet and traumatize them.
“Whiskey, you’re such a good girl. I have your breakfast ready.” He only reached the length of his arm, moving the water bowl and then the kibble dish closer to Whiskey. And without any further words, Gabriel used the skillet handle to move the food and water toward the kids.
They could take it or leave it.
They left it.
So did Whiskey.
Gabriel was surprised Whiskey didn’t snarf down her kibble. She was definitely a dog with a hearty food drive.
If Reaper were there, he would know the exact command and Whiskey would comply immediately. But Gabriel didn’t have a list of Whiskey’s commands. Shoot, he hadn’t even known he was going to be Whiskey’s dad two days ago.
Gabriel put it on his mental to-do list to get up with Reaper and get a tutorial on how to communicate with Whiskey.
Dealing with these kids and causing as little harm as possible while providing as much comfort as they’d allow was a bit of a mind game. Gabriel wished his mind wasn’t quite so tired or that he had some better ideas, but right now the idea of a fire sounded good.
Gabriel started by clearing an area for a fire, looking up to make sure it wouldn’t pose a danger if embers floated off withthe smoke. Sweet Gum didn’t have a fire warning right now, but things were dry, which made collecting fuel that much easier.
Gabriel learned a technique while out running his races when stops were few and far between, and a fire was a survival tool only — someone fell in icy water and was getting hypothermic. Yeah, there were times when you just needed heat, and you needed it quick. This was a good time to put those quick fire strategies to use. Gathering the dried pieces from the trees around him, Gabriel made a platform and began building his teepee from kindling and tinder.
