Chapter Seventeen

Amalia had covered the remaining wares on their table with a blanket and was taking items off the overhead rack when Melinda came up. "I staked us out a camping spot," she announced. "Diana is over there now with our carts. I turned the animals out to pasture at Cortina's and told him we'd bring yours along shortly."

"Cortina's is kind of far," Amalia observed.

"Well, they said Janie is getting a little loopy, and Klein's is full. Are you done here?"

"I suppose so." Amalia looked at Donovan. "You've been wearing that brace all day. You up for walking, or should I drive the cart over here and pick you up?"

"I can walk," he said, although he was tired and the bands were chafing through his pants.

They set off toward the end field, where the horses and carts had been tethered for the day under a tarp. Together Amalia and Melinda got the animals harnessed and hitched to the wagon and Melinda gave instructions on how to find their campsite.

"I guess there's some kind of guard for the night?" Donovan asked as they made their way toward where the campfires were already dotting the old soccer field.

"Yes, it's included with our fee. There's never been an incident, although of course we take the most valuable and portable things with us, like cash, batteries, jewelry and the like. Anyone can be tempted, especially if it's something that fits easily into a pocket"

"Do they charge for the campground, too?"

"Not yet, although there are rumors that they might start after the first of the year."

"I guess the safety makes it a bargain."

"Most of us think so. There's another town about an equal distance away from our valley, but they don't do anything to protect their merchants. Our main fear is that Macrina will become too big one day and start to attract attention."

"And what will everyone do if that happens? If the Feds move in, I mean?"

"We'll figure something out. We're resourceful."

* * *


It didn't take long for Amalia and Donovan to set up camp. Once they had things in order, Amalia announced she was going to take the jennies to the Cortinas'. "Do you want to come along?" she asked Donovan. "I plan to stop at Mother Reyes' house on the way and get my ration book. She lives in one of those chameleon houses I told you about, and you might find it interesting."

Although he had been looking forward to a rest in front of the campfire, curiosity got the better of him and Donovan joined Amalia in unharnessing the jennies and saddling them to ride. Getting into the saddle was tricky, and he wasn't a good rider even without the brace. but at least the animals were short and slow, unlike Gonzales' frisky buckskin, which he hadn't seen since morning.

"Where's Gonzales?" he asked as they threaded their way out of the campsite.

"No telling, but I have a pretty good idea. I sometimes wonder if the only reason he comes to town is so he can visit the bars and whores."

"So he wasn't joking this morning on the trail?"

"No, and it's a shame. His mother has a lot of land and isn’t expected to live much longer. Gonzales will be a rich man by local standards, but instead of developing his property, he goes off to town and raises hell every time he gets a little ahead. He won't ever find a wife among the local girls if he keeps behaving like a delinquent, and he'll help if he's going to run that place like it needs to be run."

"Maybe he's just not cut out to be a rancher."

"No, he loves the land and has quite a knack for it when he applies himself. It's the war that did it to him. He hasn't been the same since the Alberta campaign."

"I've seen fighting get to a lot of people. Even some guys who seemed pretty tough."

"It doesn't seem to have gotten to you."

"Yes it did," Donovan said. "That’s why I left. And it wasn't nearly as bad as Alberta, although having to pull a trigger on your own countrymen is bad enough."

"You couldn't take it anymore?"

"It was that. But there was also a girl. A fellow soldier. She was shot during a raid. Several of us were. She didn't make it."

"The bullet in your shoulder."

"Yes. The man was only defending what he had spent his life trying to hold onto for his family. I started to figure that out, with all the time I had to think and be pissed off in the hospital. If I had a wife and kids, I would've hoarded for them, too. It's crazy what they made us do. We take a vow to protect this country and its people, but instead we kill them and kill ourselves trying to do it."

"Well, you got out. In time, maybe you can try to put a few things right."

"I'm not the sort to join one of the rebel groups or anything. I want out of the game altogether. The Guard takes hapless street kids like me with nothing going for them, they give us our first regular meals, new clothes, a little education..."

"Indoctrination, more like."

"I guess. They tell us that we're making things like they used to be back in the old days; a more equal society."

"An interesting lie, because this is where equality is."

"Maybe you're right. Out here it looks like your efforts amount to something."

"We've got our problems too," Amalia cautioned. "But that's just life. We can't make every little problem go away, because in the end, it's we who are the problem."

They were approaching the end of the road and merging with a busier street, dimly lit with solar lights. A few shops were still open for business, and people wandered the sidewalks, some of them going into the stores, some peering in the dirty windows. Somewhere a street musician played a harmonica. A few children ran shrieking down the sidewalk, a rangy mutt loping beside them. At the end of the block a man in white was quoting the Bible, shouting his apocalyptic message to passersby. He pointed at a nicely dressed young couple and screamed "Sinners!" A man in an embossed leather vest with a badge strode up to the street preacher and said a few words to him. Meanwhile a horse trotted along pulling a light trap carrying a neatly dressed family. A trio of scooters zipped past, going the other way in a cloud of dust and the smell of coal diesel.

"It looks like there's some night life around here," Donovan remarked as they passed an adobe building that seemed to be of enormous interest to some of the street crowd. One sniff of the air, redolent of grilled meats, spices and baking bread, explained everything. "It’s a restaurant!"

Amalia smiled. "I told you this town wasn't as sleepy as it looked."

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