Chapter Twelve

Early the next morning they found themselves on a crest overlooking a valley. Below them was a cluster of drab little buildings with people, animals and even a few motor vehicles moving about the dusty streets. In spite of his concerns, Donovan had been looking forward to a taste of his old city life. Amalia caught the disappointment on his face. "It's busier than it looks. This is one of the back roads. Other people coming to market take the south road if they can, because it's easier and they can approach in the dark and be all set up before the market opens. We have to wait until there's a little light because this trail is so steep. But it’s safer from a chance meeting with Feds or raiders."

They were walking alongside the cart so as not to overtax their team on the damaging terrain. When they got to where the road turned sharply downward, Amalia halted the jennies and pulled a yellow scarf on a stick from the back of the wagon. With a bit of wire, she affixed it upright so it fluttered in the breeze. Donovan looked around and found everyone doing the same thing, raising yellow flags on their wagons or attaching scraps of yellow fabric to their saddles.

"It's one of the ways we let the townspeople know we're not here to raid," Amalia explained. "There'll be a checkpoint at the base of the mountain, where they'll confirm that we're legitimate, but at a distance, this is how we make sure we look friendly." She climbed onto the wagon seat. "You want to ride or walk?"

"I'll walk for now."

"Don't worry, the town isn't as dull as it looks," Melinda said, coming up behind Donovan on her pony while her daughter readied their cart for the descent into town. "They can't pretty it up, you know. If they look like they're doing well, someone will be along to make trouble."

"There's a little life in this old place, just you wait and see," Gonzales called to him from behind Diana's cart. "I'll take you to a bar I know and introduce you to a pretty girl or two."

"Don't encourage him." Amalia called back. She and the donkey cart were well down the trail now but voices carried clearly on the mountain air.

"Not to mention there's children around," Melinda added.

"I'm not a child, Mama," Diana said, slapping the reins across the back of her donkeys as she began the descent. "You think I don't know about bars and whores?"

Melinda sputtered while Gonzales and Grandpa Peterson laughed. Peterson pulled his cart up to Melinda and murmured reassuring words to her while the others went on ahead.

Donovan, disconcerted by the fuss he had started, changed his mind about walking and tried to catch up with Amalia, but he had strapped his leg into the brace that morning and it slowed him down.

"Want a ride?" She tugged on the reins with one hand and pulled the brake to a full stop. "Get in. It don't make no difference to the team on the downhill, as long as I don't get careless with the brake."

Setting his ego aside, Donovan scrambled onto the seat beside her. "Where are we going once we're in town? I understand there's a market."

"A big one, with long benches that go up on each side."

"Benches that go up? You mean a stadium?"

"It's a market. I don't know if there's a fancy Guard word for it."

"Stadium isn't a fancy Guard word. It just means a place where they used to play sports, kick balls around and things like that."

Diana furrowed her brow. "Why would they need such a big place for something like that? Me and some of the valley kids play ball games when we get together for parties, but we don't need a special place for it."

"I've been told they used to have big groups of people who practiced their games until they were good enough that other people would come and spend all afternoon watching them. That's what the benches are for. Sometimes the players were so good people would pay them."

Diana giggled. "You're making that up."

"No, I'm not."

"Well, someone must've told you a story because no way would anyone pay kids money just to kick a ball."

"They paid grownups to do it, not kids. And they gave them special clothes, too, so they would all look the same."

"What?" Diana fell over her reins screeching with laughter. Her donkeys flattened their ears in annoyance and Melinda maneuvered her horse down the path, curious to know what the fuss was about.

"What's so funny up there?"

"Donovan says--" Diana gasped for breath. "He says the market at Macrina— that men used to—"

"I told her it sounded like an old sports stadium," Donovan cut in. "She thought the idea was funny."

Melinda pursed her lips. "It used to be the high school football field, but I've never known them to use it for that. The school didn't have enough students for a team when I was a kid and there wasn't enough fuel to bus anyone over for a game, anyway. I only know about it from my father."

Diana swiveled around on her seat, leaving the donkeys to find their own way. "So it's true? They used to pay men to play ball games at our market?"

"Watch your team, Diana," Melinda cautioned. "No, the Macrina high school had a student team. They were teenage boys and they weren't paid anything. But there were big national teams and if you were a good student player, you could maybe get paid to play on one of the big teams when you grew up. Your grandfather says those men made a lot of money."

"Just to play a game? They didn't actually grow or raise anything?"

"No, they just played their game and people paid money to watch them."

"That's crazy."

"We would be crazy if we did it," Donovan said. "But people were rich then."

"Well, we're going to sell all our stuff at market. Then we'll be rich, too."

"Are you going to buy a ball team with your money?" Donovan teased.

Diana tossed her head. "That would be stupid." The wagon lurched over a rock and she clucked at the donkeys. "When I get some money, I’m going to buy a mule."

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