The gate clangs closed behind us and Kelsey jumps with the sound of it, looking back over her shoulder.

"It’s okay," I reassure her under my breath.

She glances my way and, for the first time since we’ve met, her features soften when she meets my eyes. "Just another story, right?"

"Just another story. We’ll get it in the can and go on to the next one."

She nods tightly and we continue following our ‘hosts’.

A rise in the hill has sheltered the compound itself but now as we crest it, I can see the layout at the end of the dirt road. There are several buildings, all one story, surrounding a large three story structure. All of them are finished in white adobe and red clay roofs and appear to be well maintained. Our friends aren’t hillbillies, anyway.

Behind the buildings are fields of corn and who-knows-what. I’m no farmer. However, I can identify the beasts along the side of the road we’re on as cattle. I think I see a few horses as well, further on.

"You raise your own cattle?" I’m surprised to hear Kelsey’s voice at my left elbow, even if it is a stupid question.

"We have a few sheep and pigs, too. There’s a chicken coop on the far side of the compound. Mostly we use the cattle for milk and hide, sell the meat in town." Surprisingly, the tall man at the head of the group is speaking. I figured we’d get the silent treatment all the way in. He’s dressed casually in jeans and a sweatshirt and is clean cut. He doesn’t look at us while he speaks.

I poke Kelsey in the arm with my elbow, nodding to her.

"You don’t eat meat?"

The man shrugs, his shoulders broad under the navy fleece. "Some do, some don’t. We don’t presume to make people be one way or another. We all benefit from the animals in some way and we all care for them."

"What’s your name?"

"You talk a lot," he stops the small entourage to turn and look at us for the first time. He doesn’t look amused.

Kelsey, bless her, grins. "I’ve heard that before."

Slowly, a smile spreads across his face and he shakes his head before turning back around and walking again. "Chris."

"Nice to meet you," Kelsey nods. "You been here long, Chris?"

This question is answered by silence and I figure my little partner pushed it too far.

Our group stops in front of the taller building and Chris rests his hand on the knob, hesitating. "Five years."

"That’s a long time," Kelsey responds.

Slowly, Chris turns and looks at us. With a slight wave he dismisses the rest of our escorts and they wander away amiably. "Look ... I’m not sure why he agreed to this. I don’t think we need outside influence. We can handle our disputes internally, just as we’ve handled our successes. But, I like you, so I’ll give you a little warning. Don’t ask him question after question. Don’t bring up subjects unless he’s initiated them. Don’t make him mad."

We’re both staring at the man with more than a little confusion. This is gonna be a shitty interview.

"Does he have a name?" I ask, biting my tongue before I spout out a sarcastic remark like ‘Or should we call him God.’ I can tell that Kelsey expected me to say such a thing because she’s as tense as a board next to me. I chuckle.

"Sam."

These are some pretty generic sounding names.

Chris turns away and opens the door without another word. Then he leads us down a short hallway to a stairwell. From there we make our way upstairs and find ourselves standing outside a heavy grey door. Chris knocks and then pushes it open, waving us inside.

I’m assuming the behemoth before us is Sam. The guy is huge, nearing six and a half feet and maybe half that wide. He’s not a fat man, either. His bulk is muscle and bone. He watches us with steely grey eyes and I don’t like the cold glint they have. Unconsciously, I move closer to Kelsey, only to realize she’s moved closer to me and we’re almost standing on each other’s feet.

Stupidly, the four of us stare for a very long time. Kelsey and I are waiting for one of them to make a move but apparently such a thing is not forthcoming.

So Kelsey steps forward and extends her hand. "Kelsey Stanton." She tilts her head back to me. "My partner, Harper Kingsley."

I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from adding, "In a non-sexual sense."

I think Chris’s eyes may just bug out of his head at the shock of Kelsey’s forwardness. But she is undaunted and stands with that hand extended for several awkward seconds before her small fingers are grasped in the meaty man’s palm.

"Sam."

"Nice to meet you, Sam. Harper and I thought you may want a little good press. Heard things aren’t going so well in town and you guys could tell your side of the story before the cops go Waco on ya."

Now I have to consciously prevent my chin from dropping to the floor. I’ve seen a few sides of Kels before, but risk taker is not one of them. She’s completely disregarded the warning from Chris.

The room is thick with silence as we all wait for Sam’s reaction. He lets us suffer for almost a minute before he laughs deeply and releases Kelsey’s hand. "You’ve got guts, I like that in a broad."

"Hmm," Kelsey purses her lips. "I can think of better labels than ‘broad’, but ‘gutsy’ I like." She pauses. "You up for an interview?"

"That’s why you’re here, little lady," he grins. "Let’s get started."

"Kels," I call softly, watching our hosts. "C’mere a minute and let me set you up."

She moves closer to me and I turn us both so my back is to the two men, as I wire her with the clip on microphone. I try not to be aware of the warmth of her skin as I run the wire up over her shoulder and down her back to the connector. "Why did you do that?"

She shrugs and smiles. It’s the first time she’s done so since we left LA. "It’s a trick my parents used to play to intimidate me: Mom would tell me how angry my Dad was and what I should absolutely not bring up before she pushed me in the room with him. Kinda good cop, bad cop. I picked up pretty quickly that the best way to throw them off was to go right for the forbidden subject."

I laugh at her and tug the ribbed collar of Olson’s shirt. "Good job, Little Roo. You ready?"

She nods and pats the betacam before heading back to where the men are seated.

It takes a little persuasion, but I manage to get Sam to agree to wear a mike like Kelsey is wearing. I don’t linger over thoughts of the warmth of his skin, however. The thought itself is a bit nauseating. Before Kels begins, I set up the lights and mount the betacam on the tripod. I will use the shotgun mike to pick up any comments from the others in the room, often they are the most interesting, I’ve found. Finally, I brace the 13 gig antenna in the window, aiming it back toward the truck so Olson can get the signal. This will allow us to have backup tapes at the truck and the station, just in case. For some reason, I don’t have a great feeling about this all.


* * *

God, these men don’t know when to shut up. Kelsey hasn’t had to ask them much of anything, we’ll have to edit the heck out of this to get anything coherent. Jimmy comments on this several times during the interview while he watches the feed in the truck and chatters in my ear.

They’re educated and believe in education. Their children attend school all day and the work for the compound seems to be divided equally among men and women and not across gender lines. I can respect that. They’ve been here five years, Chris was a founder, and it started out as a shelter for battered women and children, mostly.

Chris and Sam were social workers in Lincoln, apparently, and tired of the red tape and the mistreated families (they should come to LA some time) so they came up with this scheme one drunken Saturday night. It seems like a good plan and the people here are willing to be here, no one is held against their will and families come and go all the time.

Sam talked a little bit about the different religious groups and how everyone is free to follow their own beliefs and that his position as ‘caretaker’ is elected.

It sounds pretty cool. I wonder what they think of same sex relationships.

"How many people are here?" Kelsey asks, over an hour into the interview. They’re the first words she’s been able to sneak in.

"A hundred and forty as of last week," Sam replies. "The housing is mostly communal, different family units sharing kitchens and common rooms but having their own sleeping quarters."

"Isn’t that a lot for a piece of land this size?"

Sam shrugs. "We’re not completely self-sufficient when our numbers get that high but we won’t turn people away. We get supplies in town when we need them and we have some profitable ventures here to help us."

"Tell me about these trips to town," Kels prompts.

"We have a group of teenagers responsible for shopping and the selling of our goods. We expect everyone to pull their own weight and it’s a good job for youngsters: teaches them the value of money and social structures."

"But ..." Kelsey prods into the silence Sam has left dangling.

"But we have a couple of young men now who are testing their boundaries, feeling a bit too big for their britches."

"The town thinks you’re a bunch of wackos out here," Kelsey points out.

Oh good, Kelsey, sugarcoat it. I focus in on Sam’s serious face while he ponders the statement.

"We’ve never made an effort to prove we’re not. They think we do all kinds of weird things in here. But, really, it’s none of their business. The boys aren’t necessarily helping our cause right now, but we’re working with them."