“It’s come close to collapsing several times. In the 1870s, when there was a gold rush in the Medicine Bows, they lost a great deal of their population. Fortunately for the Friends, that rush played out rather quickly. It lost some of its population to both world wars. The Great Depression was a boon for them. Their community never stopped its standard practices, although they had started to slowly integrate with mainstream society before the depression. A few dozen drifters, traveling between farms for work, stumbled upon the community and stayed there. They had a small boom in population that got bled off during World War II. They are a pacifist community, but they didn’t become conscientious objectors until the Vietnam War.
“Something changed in their community around then. During the Cold War, the group walled themselves in, only leaving the community for their annual trades during Cheyenne’s Frontier Days Rodeo. Over the last three generations, they’ve returned to their root values as an agrarian society.”
“And now,” Greer said, “there’s another small boom in their population, but it’s not from within.”
Remi nodded. “I’ve discovered an anomalous trend. Their community appears to be losing teenagers at an alarming rate. Nonetheless, I think they’re one of the few groups who could survive a World War III.” She didn’t miss the look Kit and Owen exchanged.
“How so?” Kit asked.
“They are fully self-sufficient. They only need to raise enough funds from their annual trading to cover property taxes and buy the few things they can’t provide for themselves. Otherwise, they grow or raise their own food. Make their own clothes. Build their own houses. Govern themselves without outside influences. They know how to survive without modern services or technology.”
“So what’s the WKB’s interest in them?” Greer asked.
“I’m not sure they have an interest. Their two societies are diametrically opposed to each other. If anything, the Friends provide a nice buffer between the world and the WKB.”
“I don’t think that’s all it is,” the one called Ty said. “The WKB bought the land their biker compound’s on during the Cold War. They could have bought any of the newly decommissioned missile silos around the country. Why that one?”
She looked around the room, trying to understand the implications of that comment.
“Doc, what’s the nature of your relationship with the Friendship Community?” Kit asked.
“We’re on friendly terms.”
“Good. So getting Greer inside shouldn’t be a big problem.”
She looked at Greer, whose face was hard and expressionless. Yes, she could go to the Friends’ village at will, but bringing him in put everything at risk.
She glanced at Kit. “I don’t think you fully understand the impact of what you’re asking. The Friends are an isolationist community. They’re extremely wary of outsiders, very closed off to strangers. It took me three years to finally gain their trust to the point where I can visit with them not just at Frontier Days, but at their compound, too.”
Kit’s face was set. “Think of it this way, doctor. You have a choice. You can take Greer in. He’ll follow your lead. He’ll be respectful of the Friends—and your work. And you’ll control the interactions. Or our FBI contact will send in a team of investigators and potentially tear the place wide open. I think our way will net more info and cause less damage.”
Remi nodded, horrified at the disruption a bunch of FBI investigators could do—potentially irreversible harm to a community as fragile as the Friends.
She sighed. “I’ll do it. But I’ll need to bring them some gifts as a sign of goodwill.” If they were going to force this issue, then at least she could see to it that the community benefitted.
“Give Greer the list,” Kit said. “I want you two out there tomorrow.”
Greer met her eyes, his gaze warm and determined. She nodded. This whole thing was rolling forward, with or without her. Hopefully, she could keep it from being a complete disaster.
Chapter Eleven
Greer fetched a glass of water from the kitchen, then walked back to his room through the darkened house. The only light was the thin beam that came from beneath Remi’s door. A shadow crossed it, making the beam blink. Looked like she was pacing.
He went down the hall to her room. “Hey, Remi. You okay?” he called through the door.
The shadow in the light paused. He wondered what was going through her head. Maybe she was going to keep still and pretend she was sleeping. After a long moment, she opened the door.
She crossed her arms and looked up at him. “No. I’m not okay.”
“I’m sorry. It’s a shitty situation.” He took his phone out of his jeans pocket and flipped to his pictures. Holding his phone up to her, he showed her photos of her new doors.
Her nostrils flared. “I was hoping this was all a joke that my assistant took too far.”
Greer frowned. “That the sort of thing he would do?”
She handed his phone back. “While I’m not certain he’s rowing with matching oars, I don’t think he’d go this far.”
“Has he done similar things before?”
“Not similar things. He does take practical jokes to an extreme, though.”
Greer studied her as he considered that. “Text me his name. I’ll check him out.”
Her eyes widened. “How can you do that?”
“A little thing called technology.” He grinned. “Want some water?”
She took the glass. Her fingers brushed his. He watched her throat move as she took a couple of sips. She pressed the ice-cold glass to her forehead. She caught him staring at her and handed his glass back.
“If you’re too warm, I can adjust the air conditioner,” he offered.
“I’m not warm. My head is throbbing.”
“Okay. That’s it. You need some rest.” He took her hand and stepped into the room, drawing her over to the far side of the bed. He set his water down, then folded back the covers, holding them up for her. “Get in.”
“What’s the point? I can’t sleep. I’m just going to get up and pace when you leave.”
“What’s pacing going to resolve?”
“Greer—”
“Bed, Remi. Now.”