Chapter Fifteen

The market was in the town's high school football field, just as Melinda had said. There was a broad gate for vendors and a smaller one for those who wished to browse or buy. Shoppers could come and go as they pleased, free of charge, but a stooped little man in a straw hat stopped the trading party at the vendor gate. "How many tables you going to be wanting?"

"Well," Peterson said, looking at Melinda and Amalia's carts as he considered. "Me and my daughter will each need one. Amalia?"

"I can make do with one," Amalia said.

"So that's three. Gonzales?"

Gonzales patted the bulging packs strapped to his buckskin's haunches. "I was thinking I'd just rent a quarter space in the bleachers for today and tomorrow."

The man in the straw hat nodded. "North side bleachers are open, first ten rows." Behind him was a polished wooden board with a map of the stadium painted on it and little numbered holes for each section a vendor could rent. Some of the holes had colored pegs in them, indicating that someone was assigned to that spot. He quoted a few prices and locations, adding, "It's a nickel extra if you want to pay at the end of each day instead of up front."

"Two-thirty West sounds good to me." Gonzales dug in his pocket and produced some coins.

The old man took the money, counted it into a cash box and handed him a worn wooden token. "Put that in your pocket in case anyone questions you. Return it tomorrow afternoon when you leave." He handed him a little bracelet of red and yellow wool. "Here's your Tuesday bracelet. It's imperative that you return it tomorrow and exchange it for your Wednesday bracelet or you'll get fined."

Once Gonzales had everything he needed, Peterson, Melinda and Amalia went through a similar procedure to get tables on the field, which was the main market area. When everyone had a colored bracelet for the day, they were allowed to drive through the gate and find their assigned spots.

While Gonzales headed toward the bleachers, Amalia, Donovan and the Petersons found their tables, third row in, on the twenty yard line. "It's not ideal," Amalia said, "But we'll make it work."

Already most of the field was full. Around him Donovan saw signs, banners and brightly colored tablecloths set out to attract passersby. Everything was organized and tidy, without so much as a scrap of garbage in sight. Although it was still early in the morning, shoppers were already checking the wares, comparing merchandise and haggling over prices. It had been a long time since he had seen such an abundance of goods in one place, available to whoever could afford them, and Donovan could barely concentrate on the business of unloading the wagon.

Diana was struggling to stay focused too, and finally Amalia sent Donovan over to the Petersons’ table to fetch her. "Why don't you two make the rounds and find out what prices are like today? That way we'll have some idea what to charge."

They didn't wait to be asked twice. Melinda barely had time to call for Diana to be back in thirty minutes before they were lost in the maze of tables.

"Do you know where we should go first?" Donovan asked, moving clumsily because of the weight and traction of his leg brace.

"It's a little different every time. Most vendors don't get the same spot over and over, so you have to go back and forth. Eventually you'll see everything and then you can decide what to go back and buy."

"Sounds like you've got a system."

"I do." She trotted over to the nearest stall-- a long table covered with a lace tablecloth. The display consisted mainly of books and small items of crystal, silver and china. The white-haired lady gave a tight smile as Donovan joined Diana in examining her family heirlooms. Donovan had seen her type before and knew she was torn between needing to make a sale while dreading to part with her treasures. Even decades after the century of abundance had come crashing down, people still clung to the remnants-- a frosted crystal cat, a porcelain bowl painted with green shamrocks, a book of color photographs of Paris, a silver bracelet.

"Do you like jewelry?" the woman asked Diana, pushing a heart-shaped silver box toward her. "This will keep your things nice."

Diana shook her head. "I like horses."

"I see." The woman looked through her books for a moment, producing a big brown book. It was obviously quite old, with wear on the edges of its cover and the stamped gold lettering almost worn away. She opened it to show page after page of color prints on thick creamy paper. "All the major horse breeds. The text gives you history and description of the breed, and of course you get some very nice pictures."

Diana took the book and examined the pages reverently.

"Twenty dollars," the woman said.

"Oh, that's too much."

"I don't have to have cash. I'll accept food, ration coupons, tools or seeds."

Diana handed back the book. "I'm just looking today."

"I'll be here tomorrow, too. I can hold the book for you, if you like."

"No," the girl said. "I can't promise anything without talking to my mom and I don't want to keep you from making a sale."

As they wandered away, Donovan smiled at her. "That's a pretty grown up attitude you've got. I could tell you liked that book."

"She probably won't sell it to anyone else today and I probably won't be able to buy it, anyway." She tried to sound philosophical. "It's not like we've got that kind of money to spend on books. My family needs a new horse bridle, salt, shoes, canning jars, and some canned foods like what we can't grow for ourselves. Only if we do really well can I think about buying something just because I like it."

"It seems too bad you can't have something for fun now and then." They merged into the stream of shoppers and headed toward the next table.

"I can have something fun. It just has to be useful, too." They were in front of a table that had wool for sale in various forms -- raw wool, undyed yarn, spun yarn and cloth in various vegetable-dyed colors and a few finished products such as hats, mittens, scarves and blankets. Remembering the instructions Amalia had given them, Diana was suddenly all business. She examined a pair of mittens and some orange yarn as if intending to buy. "How much?" she asked, pointing to an undyed skein.

"Two dollars."

"That's a lot. How about a dollar and a quarter?"

They haggled for a few minutes. The young woman at the table finally refused to go lower than a dollar sixty and Diana said she would let her mother know. She and Donovan wandered away, pretending to be deep in thought. Once they were out of earshot, Diana said, "That's more than they were charging last time. If everyone's prices are that high, we'll make some good sales today."

"Are you going to buy that book, then?"

"No." She shook her head. "I'm saving up for a mule."

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