The Borrowed World Series | Book 8 | Blood & Banjos

by Horton, Franklin

  To the left of the road, a message was spray-painted on a rotting sheet of plywood:

  Corral space available. We watch your horse while you shop. Prices flexible.

  “That wasn’t here last time,” Charlie said, pointing to the far corner of the farmer’s market.

  Someone had seen a need and jumped on it. They’d hauled in steel corral sections and build a portable structure that could hold a dozen horses while the owners shopped at the market.

  “What did you do last time?” Randi asked. “Lead them around?”

  “No, Hugh watched them from the dentist's office over there.”

  “That means one of us wouldn’t get to shop,” Randi said.

  “What if we leave the horses at the corral and they steal them?” Pete asked, already demonstrating his father’s distrust of strangers.

  Randi shrugged. “We kill them.”

  “Fair enough,” Pete said. “Let’s go.”

  They skirted the crowd, their shod horses clopping loudly on the asphalt parking lot. Although theirs weren’t the only horses there they were a rare enough commodity that the arrival of anyone on horseback drew attention. The people on foot always wanted to know who had transportation when they didn’t. It was part envy and part resentment. Some may have even been taking notes for later, memorizing who had horses they could steal when the opportunity was available.

  A fat man chewing tobacco sat in a camping chair with his arms folded across his belly. Two younger versions of the man stood behind him. One was in his twenties, the other in his younger teens. The fat man had a revolver holstered on his belt, but carried it directly below his belly button. A lever-action rifle was propped up against an empty chair. The proprietors offered nothing by way of a greeting as Pete, Charlie, and Randi reined their horses to a stop in front of them.

  “How much?” Randi asked.

  Pete couldn’t help but notice that interactions were much different than they had been over a year ago. There were no friendly greetings, no small talk, nor comments about the weather. It was straight to business with a guarded and almost unfriendly directness.

  “I get a .22 shell per horse to watch them while you shop,” the man said. “You ain’t got .22, tell me what you got and we’ll see if we can work out something.”

  “You keep them safe?” Randi asked.

  He tilted his head toward the lever-action rifle, as if that gesture were sufficient to answer her question. Randi wasn’t impressed.

  “Any son-of-a-bitch can haul a gun around,” she said. “What I want to know is if this horse is going to be here when I get back. I’m going to be a mite pissed off if it ain’t.”

  “I ain’t lost one yet,” the man replied.

  “Then mine better not be the first,” Randi replied.

  He gave her an indifferent look. “We ain’t come to an agreement yet. Far as I’m concerned, you’re just blowing hot air.”

  “You take .25 caliber?” Charlie asked.

  He shook his head. “Ain’t got no call for it. Ain’t worth spit.”

  “What about 16-gauge shotgun shells?” Charlie asked.

  The man hesitated and mulled it over. “I’d take three for three horses.”

  “I bet you would,” Randi said. “How about one shell for three horses?”

  He scratched his beard. “What load is it?”

  “Number four shot,” Charlie replied.

  “I’ll keep your horses for two shells. I water them too.”

  “I’ll give you one of the shotgun shells and two of the .25 caliber shells,” Charlie said.

  The man mulled it over. “I’ll take it, dammit. I’m tired of jawing with you.”

  The riders dismounted and Charlie paid him while the sons collected the reins. The younger son gave Pete a long look as he took his horse.

  “Ain’t you Pete?”

  Pete looked harder at the boy. “Yeah, why?”

  “I’m Duane. We went to school together.”

  Pete recognized the boy now. He was a lot skinnier than he’d been in school and was starting to grow a beard. Duane was a year older than him but they’d had gym class at the same time. “Oh, hey Duane. Didn’t recognize you.”

  That was the extent of the conversation. The two weren’t friends and this wasn’t exactly the environment for making new ones. Duane led his horse off and released it into the small corral.

  “We’ll be back in a few,” Randi said, her tone more of a warning than conversational. The unsaid but implied message was that her horse better be there when she got back.

  “Suit yourself,” the man replied. “Don’t rush on our account. We’re here all day.”

  They walked away from the corral, each wearing their packs and carrying their guns. When they were out of earshot, Randi leaned toward Pete. “You know that family?”

  “Not really. I went to school with that kid but he’s a grade older than me. His dad has a store in town that sells the kind of crap you see on TV commercials. You know that as-seen-on-TV stuff? They live above the store. I think his name is Willie or something.”

  Randi rolled her eyes. “God, I remember now. I’ve been in that store before. Willie’s What Nots. The guy didn’t have a beard at the time.”

  “Yeah, the son didn’t either.”

  “Listen, it’s probably not a big deal but, just to be safe, you should probably avoid any folks you recognize. If you see a kid from school, just go the other way.”

  “You and Charlie aren’t from here, but I know a lot of folks in this town. I grew up here. That’s going to be hard.”

  “We need to maintain a low profile, Pete. I don’t think it’s dangerous for you to be here with us but there are a lot of people in this town who are not fans of your dad. There were people killed on the 4th of July when we supposedly gave your dad up to the government. There’ll be people here with hard feelings about that. We need to do our business and get out of here with minimal interaction.”

  Pete understood all that in a general sense. He understood they had to be constantly vigilant in the valley because people were trying to kill his dad. He knew that even with his father gone, they had to stay alert. In the excitement of coming to town and visiting the farmer’s market, he’d kind of put that to the side.

  He felt a surge of anxiety as he suddenly understood that anyone who met his eye might recognize him. They could follow him home. They could attempt to kidnap him to manipulate his family. They could abduct him and torture him for information about whether his father was alive or not. He was suddenly terrified.

  Randi must have sensed it, must have seen the flicker in his eye, the racing thoughts. She threw an arm around him. “Relax, Pete. No need to panic. Just be careful. That’s all I’m saying.”

  He took a long breath and let it out. “I’m good. I’ll be okay. I guess I just associated all that with being at home and not with being out in the world.”

  She smiled. “We can talk more about it later but being alert in a crowd takes some getting used to. Do you want to split up or look around together?”

  “Let’s stick together,” Charlie suggested. “I’ve got a lot to trade and not much I need. I’m more interested in getting things that help us as a group. You might know about more things we can use than Pete and I do.”

  “Good enough,” Randi said.

  They started at one end and worked their way through. There were eggs and chickens. One man had piglets while another had a string of goats on leashes. One woman was selling books on farming, survival, and homesteading that were stamped as belonging to the library. Several people were giving her a hard time about selling books that belonged to the community, but others were buying them up, desperate for the information.

  When the bookseller grew tired of the harassment, she drew a revolver and pointed it at her critics. That was the state of the world. People who had become accustomed to being badasses on the internet learned it was a lot different to harass people in real life. They could
do more than block you on social media. They could pound you into a puddle or put a bullet in your head. Bystanders watched such disagreements with amusement. They knew to mind their own business and stay out of fights that weren’t theirs.

  The three spent nearly two hours roaming the vast parking lot of the local government offices. It took a while not because of the number of vendors but because of the time required to negotiate each purchase. It had been simpler when all transactions were based on a standardized currency. Bartering took more creativity and more thought when all manner of objects could be used as money.

  Among their more interesting purchases, Charlie managed to buy an entire box of DVD movies for a cheap Swiss Army knife he’d gotten for subscribing to a magazine. The DVDs were bulky but he had a nylon duffel bag in his pack and he was convinced they’d fit in it. The movies wouldn’t be of use to most folks because of the lack of power, but Pete’s house had enough solar power to run a small TV and DVD player.

  They’d also managed to trade for more seeds and a broken hoe that Randi was convinced she could put a new handle on. One man had a ziplock baggie packed full of tiny travel-sized shampoos from hotels he’d visited over the years. Charlie got the entire bag for a Harley Davidson collector knife that had belonged to his dad. Charlie had several of those and they had no value to him, either sentimental or otherwise. They were lousy knives and heavy to carry around. If he could trade them for something useful he was glad to do it.

  Their packs were crammed with new acquisitions and their hands were full, but Charlie and Randi weren’t done. They were deep in negotiation with a man who had two dozen cloth diapers, which he apparently felt were lined with gold based on his trading demands. Charlie was offering up the remainder of his .25 caliber rounds for the diapers, but the man wasn’t even listening until Charlie sweetened the deal with a hatchet. To anyone who knew edged tools, it was probably one of the lousiest hatchets ever made. It was a piece of Chinese garbage that sold for no more than $2.99 when it was new. Charlie’s dad had gotten the thing for free at one of those Chinese tool stores for using a coupon that came in the mail. It might be useful to someone who didn’t have any other means of cutting wood.

  “I’m going to go get the horses while you guys fight this out,” Pete offered. They were close but hadn’t yet struck a bargain.

  “That’s fine,” Randi said. “We’ll meet you in the parking lot over at the dentist’s office.”

  Pete saluted and wandered off with his full pack and the bag of DVDs. None of the items he carried were things he’d bought. It was all Charlie’s and he expected it was going to take him a few minutes to get it arranged on his horse. He made his way through the crowd and back to the corral at the back corner of the parking lot. The same assembly greeted him in exactly the same stances as earlier. Willie ran the show from the comfort of a camping chair while his two sons slouched against the corral, their limbs woven through the bars like they were lifers relaxing in a prison cell.

  “I need our horses,” Pete asked.

  Willie gave Pete a sly smile. “I only saw you ride in on one horse, kid. Why should I give you three?”

  Pete had dealt with men like this before, dissatisfied and unhappy men who enjoyed giving kids a hard time. He’d had one for a gym teacher last year. The guy was an asshole. “I need my horse and my friends’ horses. They’re busy trading.”

  The same irritating grin never left Willie’s face. “I’m just supposed to take your word for that?”

  A year ago Pete might have teared up and left in frustration. He was different now. He had a whole new set of experiences under his belt and with it, a newfound confidence. “Why you got to be an asshole about this, man? You got my horses and I’m taking them.”

  In tandem, as if operating from a single, slow-functioning mind, Willie’s sons began to move in Pete’s direction, apparently taking offense at the way he was talking to their dad. In the blink of an eye, Pete dropped his gear and flipped his rifle around on the sling. The metallic click of the safety moving to the fire position reached all ears in that intimate circle. Pete didn’t make a scene, didn’t raise his rifle high for fear of drawing attention. It was leveled at Willie’s belly, though, and at this distance he couldn’t miss.

  Willie stuck out an arm to arrest the movement of his protective sons. “Get his horses. All of them.” His eyes were fixed on Pete’s, his face wearing an expression that was both amused and dangerous at the same time.

  “All I wanted was my horses,” Pete said. “I don’t know why you had to act like this. If Randi, the woman who was with us, saw you acting this way she’d kill you on the spot. She ain’t one for bullshit.”

  With his sons in the corral gathering horses, it was just the two of them. Willie kept his voice low. “I tell you what’s bullshit, boy. What’s bullshit is what your daddy did to this town. Yeah, I know who you are. Duane told me all about it. Said you two went to school together. Your daddy is responsible for a lot of suffering. My family would be living in that comfort camp right now but we’re all being punished for what your daddy did. You got a lot of fucking nerve showing your face in town.”

  Pete’s blood ran cold. This was exactly what he’d known could happen and here it was unfolding right in front of him. Pete nodded at Willie’s belly. “You don’t appear to be starving.”

  Willie snarled. “Why you little bastard.”

  His sons led the horses out and stood there looking at Pete. Duane extended the reins but Pete wasn’t sure he could take them without putting himself at risk. If he took his gun off Willie, the two brothers would jump him. He was certain of it.

  “Take’em over yonder and tie them off to the bumper of that pickup truck,” Pete said. “I’m going to stay where I’m at until you’re done.”

  The two brothers looked at each other as if they’d had a plan and Pete had screwed the whole thing up. He’d figured as much.

  “I don’t suggest you ever come back here, boy,” Willie growled. “It ain’t right for you to be in here buying up stuff that good folks need. Your family done took enough from people and they don’t need to be taking more. I see you back here again and I’ll call you out in front of all these folks. I’ll tell them who you are and remind them of what your daddy done. What do you think will happen then? Hell, I imagine they’ll tear into you like a pack of dogs. There won’t be enough left for your momma to bury.”

  “You’ll only get a lot of people killed.”

  The grin returned to Willie’s face. “Maybe, but you’ll be one of them. Just like your old daddy. If he’s even dead.”

  Willie gave Pete a wink that both chilled and angered the boy. His finger stroked the trigger and he wanted to pull it so badly that his heart ached from the want of it. If he shot Willie, though, he’d have to kill his sons too. Then a lot more people might die, including him.

  “There’s your horses,” Willie said. “Take them and go.”

  Pete backed away, putting the rifle back on safe. He let it hang but kept his hand wrapped around the grip, ready to swing it back up and fire if he had to. He leaned over and collected his gear, then moved to his horses. Not feeling like this was the time or place to repack his gear, he looped everything around the saddle horn and untied the other horses.

  He started to mount up but didn’t want to present such a tempting target to Willie or his sons. Instead, he led the horses away and into the crowd, their broad bodies sheltering him against his new enemy.

  Before he even reached the dentist's office, Randi and Charlie fell in alongside him, taking the leads of their own horses. Randi studied Pete, picking up on something he was trying hard to hide. She must have sensed the tension, the coiled spring inside him that threatened to break loose at any minute. Maybe she smelled the adrenaline.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  Pete nodded.

  She wasn’t convinced. “Something happen with that creepy old bastard?”

  “No, it was just weird. That’
s all. Seeing someone from school. It reminded me of a lot of things, like what I’d be doing right now if this hadn’t happened. Made me miss my friend.” He couldn’t tell if Randi bought it or not, but she let it go.

  “Yeah, I get it. We all get in funks over that sometimes. Weird things set it off and then we remember that what’s normal now is a lot different than what was normal a couple of years ago.”

  “I get that too,” Charlie said. “Memories hit you sometimes.”

  Pete forced a smile onto his face. “Let’s get these horses packed and get out of here. This place is too crowded for me.”

  Randi laughed. “You’re starting to sound like your dad.”

  “Really?” Pete asked.

  “Yep.”

  The idea struck Pete as strange for a moment, then he became comfortable with it. It was a reminder that his dad was always with him, even if he wasn’t.

  31

  The Camp

  Sharon woke up early in her familiar bed at the camp. Sunlight was already pouring through the window, a sure sign that she’d slept later than usual. Despite the light, the desire for more sleep tried to hold her in the bed. She wasn’t certain if it was the soreness in her body or the overwhelming weight of the day ahead that woke her, but she couldn’t allow herself to go back to sleep. There was too much to do. She flipped back the sheet and sat up.

  Despite the exhaustion she felt when she made it back to camp yesterday, they’d stayed up late. She had to explain to the children that Oliver had passed away and then help them process their emotions. Many of them had been working on digging a grave at the Fairy Circle so they were tired and emotionally frail. There had been a lot of tears and a lot of hugs. She did her best to focus them on the positives of Oliver’s life, how he loved music and built this camp so more people could learn how to play it. She went around the group and had everyone share their favorite Oliver memories.