by P. A. Glaspy
Doug was indignant. “We needed that food! We couldn’t pay because, like I said, credit cards don’t work and cash is no good. He didn’t want to give it to us, so we took it. We didn’t mean for him to get hurt, but he should have gotten out of the way. You should get out of the way, too, Manchin. We need that food you have, and we’re coming in to get it.” He started to pull a gun from the waistband of his pants.
Barbara reached down and pulled up a shotgun, which she pointed in their direction. At the same time, Jesse opened the window beside her and did the same. Barbara gave him a smirk. “No, I don’t think so. You’re going to leave now, and if you come back, you’d best have something to pay with if you want meat.”
Doug’s face was fire engine red as he spluttered, “How the hell are we supposed to pay you? What do we pay with?”
“You got any more guns, or ammo? Hunting knives, sewing supplies?”
“Yeah, I got guns but if I give them to you, then I won’t have any!”
She cocked her head as she considered his statement. “Can you eat them?”
He continued to fluster. “No, but … I can’t give you all of it. I won’t! What will you give me for … um, ten bullets?”
She shook her head. “Ten bullets won’t even get you a half pound of stew meat. I’ll tell you what. You come back tomorrow, with say twenty bullets, and I can sell you a quarter of a pound of chuck. But if you ever bang on my door like that again, or even think about demanding anything from me, I won’t sell you one bite at any price. Now you go on home and see what else you might have that’s worth a meal or two. I’m open to all reasonable trades. You fellas have a good day now.” With that, she closed the window. Jesse closed his as well, but he continued to watch the men until they left.
From that point forward, Jesse, Eddie, Barbara, and sometimes Jasper took turns standing watch in the store. Jasper brought in some sheet metal and fashioned doors with the help of Ben Vaughn. Ben was a ferrier and blacksmith by trade, but he happened to own a battery-powered welder that survived the pulse. No computer chips for the win. It took them a few days to get the doors ready and when they brought them out to install them some of the townsfolk stopped to watch. Doug was there and was vocal.
“What the hell, Jasper? What’s going on?”
Jasper wiped the sweat from his brow. “What the hell does it look like, Doug? We’re putting up some metal doors. You know, in case anyone gets any bright ideas about trying to loot this place like they did the grocery store.”
Doug looked indignant. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know exactly what that means. Now, unless you mean to help, get out of my way so I can finish this job.”
Doug stepped back and joined his buddies. They spoke low to each other then walked off. Barbara stepped in front of the doors. “Anyone who wants to buy from me can bring in whatever you have to trade. It can be other food, or ingredients; guns and ammo or knives; footwear or clothing in decent shape; sewing or yarn crafting supplies; sheets and blankets; anything that may be a value to someone else, or that another person might need. If you need something, come by and see if we have it. Everything we take in trade will be available to purchase in trade as well. Barter was around long before money, and it’s a fair way to do business. Anyone caught stealing or trying to pass off something as their own that isn’t, will not be allowed back. Y’all bring what you have to trade and we’ll work something out.” She turned to Jasper and Ben. “Thank you, guys, so much for this. Maybe we can all sleep at night again.”
Ben smiled. “You’re doing a good thing here, Barbara. Helping families by giving them jobs, giving folks a way to get food and supplies, and still pay in some way. I’m glad I could help.”
Barbara waved a hand at him. “It’s not like I could eat all that meat by myself, nor would I if others I cared about were hungry. This way, people are acting the way they should have been all along, instead of like criminals. There’s no free rides, especially now. Everybody has to figure out how they can contribute to their community. This is my way.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. Not many people would care about others at a time like this. You’ve got a good heart.”
She blushed, then said, “Aw shucks, thank you, kind sir. As soon as you finish that door, come inside for your payment. I’ve got a tasty venison tenderloin with your name on it. You too, Jasper, but you get bacon.”
Jasper and Ben were both shaking their heads. Ben replied, “I didn’t do this for payment, Barbara.”
“I know. That’s why I’m paying you. That, and this is how the barter system works. You provide a service, I pay you in goods. I won’t take no for an answer.” With that she turned on her heel and went back inside the store.
And that’s how Manchin’s Meats became Manchin’s Trading Post.
Chapter 8
The first day the folks from town showed up to start planting was one we wouldn’t forget. They arrived in a few old pickup trucks, beds full of people and gardening tools. Monroe, Jim, and Bob were on hand to help prepare the ground and had been working on it for a couple of hours already. Janet and I had a table set up in the shade with big coolers of water and cups. Ryan and Mike were there to watch everyone’s backs. We hadn’t seen any signs of the guys we now knew as Alan, Rich, and Steve, but that didn’t mean they were gone. It just meant the sheriff hadn’t found them yet. And neither had Mike or Ryan.
When the trucks pulled up, the guys went over to meet the folks from town. Monroe and Jim knew a few of them: Doc Hanson and Ben Vaughn, as well as Barbara Manchin. They all had services they could provide for their share of the crops, but they also wanted to contribute at the farm—at least until they got too busy with other things in town. Gary was making introductions when Clay came around the end of one of the trucks. Ryan immediately drew his sidearm and brought it to bear on Clay’s head. One of the women screamed, then another, and suddenly everybody from town was running away from the scene, except Clay and Gary. Clay was standing wide-eyed, frozen in fear. Gary stepped between them calmly.
“Ryan, let’s talk about this now. There’s things you don’t know about Clay. He’s—”
Ryan didn’t move, except for the hand holding the gun, which he moved to the side of Gary’s head, holding the center of Clay’s forehead in his sights. “I don’t care, Sheriff. He was with them. He was one of them. He was part of the gang that killed my brother. It’s my right to avenge his death.”
Clay sputtered, “M-my brother got killed, too! We wasn’t shootin’ at n-nobody. We didn’t even raise our g-guns. We was tryin’ to keep from gettin’ killed ourselves and Jay still got shot and died. Were you there? Did you see who did it? I’d like to talk to whoever that was, find out why they shot him.”
Ryan let his pistol angle down slightly and looked hard at Clay. “That was your brother?”
Clay’s lip trembled slightly. “Yeah. My momma took it real hard. I ain’t lookin’ for revenge or nothin’. I know we did it to ourselves. I’d just like to know why my brother got shot, of all the folks that was there.”
Ryan let his pistol drop slowly until it was pointed to the ground but held Clay’s gaze. “Because I was hurting. Because I needed to hurt someone else in my grief and rage. I didn’t know who had been shooting, or who fired the shot that killed my brother, Bill. I didn’t care. I found a head attached to a body holding a gun and shot him. It just happened to be your brother.” Ryan wasn’t apologizing. He was calmly describing the events, like he might have been telling a customer they had moles in their yard and how to treat them in his former life as a landscaper. He did have a touch of something in his voice though. Not remorse, but maybe seeing it through Clay’s eyes, at least from the standpoint of knowing the loss he felt.
Clay’s jaw dropped. “It was you? You’re the one?” Ryan gave him a curt nod. The anger flared in Clay’s eyes, quickly replaced with regret. “I reckon I should be mad at you, but I ain’t. Like I said, we shouldn’t hav
e been there. It was actually here,” he waved his hand toward the burned-out house, “that we ran into those guys. We was tryin’ to find more supplies, hopin’ there was somethin’ here. They showed up, cut the chain off the gate, and busted into the house. Then they made us go with them, over to y’all’s place. We tried to stay back, but they threatened us, and our momma. We was just getting ready to hightail it outta there when Jay got shot. Guess we shoulda left about five minutes before that.”
Ryan cocked his head to the side and gave Clay a grim smile. “Guess so.”
Gary addressed Ryan. “Are you going to be good with Clay being here, working the gardens? This is his sentence for being there when it happened, whether he shot or not. He’s paying his debt to society like the old working prisons used to do, with labor that benefits the group. We just don’t lock him up at night. If it’s going to be an issue, I can try to find some other way for him to do his penance but we really need all the able bodies we can get here.”
Ryan looked from Gary to Clay, then back to Gary. “It’ll be cool. He paid with his brother’s life, too. Looks like we’ve got that in common now. But those others? They will pay, Sheriff. No second chances for those assholes.”
Gary nodded and laid a hand on Ryan’s shoulder. “Yes, they will, son. I’ll make sure of it.”
Ryan gazed back at Gary. “Then you better find them before I do. If I find them first, I’m ending them.” He holstered his pistol and walked away to join Mike and the others.
Clay was visibly shaking. “Am I gonna be safe here, Sheriff? Is that guy gonna come after me?”
Gary shook his head. “You’ll be fine. He’s a good man and I trust him to do what he says he’s going to do. Let’s get over to the field and see what we need to do to help.”
Janet and I watched the interaction along with everyone else there. The townsfolk seemed to have gotten over the sight of the pistol. Janet looked at me confused. “Why did they freak out, Anne? Isn’t everybody armed these days?”
I looked around at the people milling about, some inspecting the work areas, others chatting amongst themselves. I saw a few sidearms, and a couple of rifles, even a few shotguns. But not even half the people had a weapon. Shrugging my shoulders, I replied, “Apparently not. I wonder how that’s working for them.”
At that moment, a young woman walked up to our table and asked for water for herself and her two small children. She stared at the pistols we had on our waists. I handed her the water, saw what she was looking at and smiled. “It’s alright. I know how to use it. It’s for protection from bad guys, nothing more.”
She stared for a moment more, then said, “Can you help me get one?”
Taking a longer look at her, I saw an old bruise on her face, as well as the distinct imprint of fingertips on her arms. Not wanting to embarrass her, I continued to smile. “What’s your name, honey? My name’s Anne. This is my best friend, Janet.”
Janet smiled at her as well. The woman gave a tight-lipped smile in return. “Kim. Kim Williams. These are my kids, Shelley and Shane.”
The children hid behind their mother’s legs. They looked to be between six and ten. They were dirty and looked half starved. My heart melted at the sight of them in need, then I put my shield up. Don’t do it, Anne. You can’t save them all. Yeah, I knew that, but it didn’t make it suck any less.
Janet spoke to the children. “Well, hello there, Shelley and Shane. Say, would you like to come over here in the shade with me? If it’s okay with your mom.” She looked at Kim. Kim smiled a true smile and nodded. She took the children by the hand and led them away from the table. She nodded at me, her way of saying, “Now the grown-ups can talk.”
I invited Kim to come around the table to sit in the chair Janet had vacated. She looked back at the fields, where people were planting. “Well, I really should be out there …”
I took her hand and led her to the seat. “You can go after we’ve had a chat. Oh, and we’ll keep an eye on the little ones here in the shade.”
She nodded and sat down. I sat beside her. “So, Kim, what happened? I can’t help but notice the bruises. Did someone hurt you? Is that why you want help getting a gun? For protection?”
She looked down at her hands lying in her lap. I waited for her to answer on her own time line. I noticed as the tears started to fall but she never made a sound. Finally, she looked up at me.
“They came into my house. It was late. The kids were already in bed. I was lying in bed reading with a candle. It was so hot I just couldn’t leave the windows closed. I was afraid we’d die from the heat. They just cut the screen in the kitchen and climbed through. I heard a noise and went to see what it was. They grabbed me. One slapped me hard in the face then clamped a hand over my mouth and pushed me to the floor. There were three of them. Two held me down while the other one …”
She stopped, the pain etched on her face. I was seething inside but I tried not to let it show. She took a deep breath and went on. “They saw the pictures on the wall of the kids. They threatened to kill me and do the same to them if I made any noise. So, I didn’t. When the first one finished, they switched and another one started.” She paused again. She seemed to be trying to stop the now uncontrollable sobbing. I waited patiently, hoping that the mask I tried to put on was in place, to cover the intense hatred of three men I didn’t know but would gladly end if given the chance. After a moment, she gathered herself and continued. “When all three were done, they laughed at me lying there on the floor, naked and bleeding, walked out the front door, and drove away. I didn’t get up for a while—I wanted to make sure they weren’t coming back. When I did finally get up, I cleaned myself up as best I could with a few baby wipes, put some clothes on, went through the house and shut every window and door, and locked them. The kids don’t understand why we can’t keep them open at night. They’re miserable, but I just can’t take the chance … the chance they’ll come back and do it again. Or worse, hurt my babies.”
I tried to be strong, for this young woman I had just met, but I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing, tears of anger and pain. Anger at the vile creatures who had done this to her. Even in my mind I couldn’t refer to them as men, because that’s not how a man is supposed to act. Pain felt in empathy for her from this ordeal. I took her hands in mine and, with tears shining in both our eyes, I finally spoke.
“Kim, honey, have you told anyone else about this?”
Her eyes grew wide. “Oh no, no I can’t tell anyone. I’m so ashamed. If anyone else knew … I’m not even sure why I told you. Probably because I hoped you would help me if you knew why I wanted a gun.”
While holding her hands, I felt her wedding ring. “What about your husband? Where is he?”
A fresh batch of tears started. “He worked the eleven to seven shift at a plant about thirty miles away. Because the work was so hot and dusty, he would take a shower before he came home, to save me the mess. He usually got out of there by about seven thirty. He never came home.”
I nodded my understanding of a world where your car no longer ran and you had no supplies to sustain you on a thirty-mile walk, not to mention no means of protection. “So, you didn’t have any guns in your home, I take it.”
She shook her head. “I’ve always been afraid of them, and once we had the kids, I just couldn’t stand the thought of having one in the house, even for protection like Boyd wanted. That’s his name, Boyd. Oh, how I wish now I hadn’t been so scared. If I’d had a gun when those assholes broke into my house … well, if I had one and knew how to use it. So, can you help me, Anne? Can you help me get a gun, and maybe learn how to use it?”
I had an idea already brewing in my mind, but I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure it could be done. I squeezed her hands and said, “Let me see what I can do, Kim. I need your permission to tell the sheriff what happened. He needs to know that there are things going on in town like that. I believe we can get his help to get you what you want. To protect you
r family.”
Wide-eyed again, she opened her mouth, I’m sure to beg me not to say anything, then stopped, closing her lips tightly. With a look of resolve, she gave me a curt nod. “Whatever we have to do, Anne. I don’t want to be scared anymore.”
I leaned over and hugged her tight. “Agreed.”
****
I tracked the sheriff down and asked to speak to him.
He offered his hand. “Of course, Ms.—I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”
“Mathews. Anne Mathews. Please, call me Anne.”
“Only if you’ll call me Gary.”
I smiled and nodded. I led him away from the crowd and quietly related the story of Kim’s attack. I watched his face go through a series of changes: shock, anger, and concern among them. Then I shared my idea.
“Gary, we have firearms training every morning with our people. We want everyone to be able to use a gun if needed. Have you considered offering something like that in town? Do you have any idea who may or may not be able to defend themselves?” Now he had a new look on his face—embarrassment.
“I’m sorry to say I hadn’t even thought about that, Anne. We’ve been so focused on getting food sources for everyone, security slipped by me. I wish Kim had come to me when it happened. We might have been able to catch them. I’ll have one of my deputies set up a training schedule right away. Jasper Jenkins is retired Army. He seems to be a good choice for something like this.”
I smiled and nodded. “Yes, our instructor is former Marines. That sounds perfect. The next question may be a more difficult request. How can we get the people armed? There aren’t a lot of folks that are going to be willing to give up any firearms for something like this.”
Gary looked thoughtful for a moment. “Well, there might not be a lot of folks out there who would donate, but we just happen to have some extras at the office. We’ll try to figure out who is in the most need and see what we can do about getting them one. Kim will be at the top of the list.”