Forager (9781771275606) Read online

  Josh actually stopped. For a fraction of second I thought the fight was over. I should have known better. He laughed, and said, “Chane hits harder than that.”

  He closed in again. A breath later, he punched with his right. I saw it coming. I stepped forward, blocking with my left and at the same time throwing all my weight and momentum into my own punch.

  Josh staggered back a step and grabbed his ribs. Pain flared across my knuckles, but pleasure warmed my stomach.

  “That’s better, Orphan Boy,” he taunted. “We might actually make fight out of this.”

  Then he was on me. I couldn’t stop all the blows from raining down on me. He hit me everywhere. I blocked some and landed a few good punches myself, one really nice one to his jaw.

  I don’t know how long the fight lasted. It felt like it went on forever. If I could stand and fight, I was going to. All the rage from the years of his bullying flowed through me. I ached all over, but the pain only fueled my anger. I used it like the combine used corn oil. Sucking it up, I kept rolling.

  A cut below my right eye dribbled a small trail of blood down my face, and my arms were scraped from being knocked to the ground so many times. Josh’s nose oozed from a well-timed left hook. I’m not sure if that same punch had split his lip or if another one had, but the thin trickle of blood that ran down his chin looked like a distorted question mark.

  I took a moment to glance at my knuckles. All of them on both hands were scraped and bloody. When I realized that some of the blood belonged to Josh, I smiled. That was a mistake. He saw the smile and redoubled his efforts.

  He threw a roundhouse right. I blocked, and threw one of my own. Josh was expecting it. He backed up a step. My momentum carried me in a half circle. He took advantage and locked his arms around my chest. He squeezed, hard.

  I couldn’t breathe. His grip was so tight all I could do was flail around with my feet. My heel hit his leg. It didn’t have enough power to do any damage. I tried again, this time putting as much power as possible and aiming my kick so that it would catch him in the shin.

  I heard a pop, and pain exploded in my heel. Josh and I howled in pain together. His arms loosened enough for me to escape. I hobbled around to face him. Too late. His blow landed hard on my chin.

  A split second later I was flat on my back. Josh landed on me and pinned my arms with his knees. I tried to wriggle free, but he weighed a ton. The last thing I remember was Josh’s right fist coming down, coming down fast.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  When I came to, I lay alone in the street. Staggering my way to the infirmary, I found Dr. White. He must have taken me to a room, because my next clear memory was him dabbing at my wounds with a cloth soaked in grain alcohol. It was fire in a bottle. White-hot pain surged over my cuts and scrapes.

  The next morning, I awoke to Dr. White probing and prodding my wounds. “How do you feel?”

  Stupid question. I’d been run over by a loaded grain wagon named Josh Mason. My legs ached from the riding, my torso felt like it had been hit with bricks—repeatedly—my face was puffy and bruised, and my right eye wouldn’t open.

  I reached up to my face. Dr. White gently took my hand and said, “It’s best if you don’t touch it too much, your eye has swollen closed. It’s a beautiful shiner, but it’ll be fine in a couple of days. How’s your head? “

  “It hurts,” I mumbled through my split lips. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. Using my tongue, I felt around my teeth and gums. The two front ones on the top were a little loose, but there didn’t seem to be any immediate danger of them falling out.

  Dr. White chuckled at my response. “I imagine it does. I want you here for a couple of days. I think you might have a concussion.”

  You think?

  The doctor continued. “Last night, you weren’t in any condition to tell me what happened, but shortly after I treated you, Josh Mason came in. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that the two of you fought.”

  I kept my mouth shut. One, it hurt to talk, and two, I didn’t need any more jolts. Josh probably wouldn’t say anything, and if I stayed quiet no one could actually prove that we gave each other the injuries. Even if it were as obvious as the bruises on our faces.

  Dr. White shook his head. “I don’t blame you for keeping quiet, but could the two of you try a little harder not to kill each other? There are enough injured people to take care of as it is.”

  While dozing through the afternoon of the second day, a knock on the door interrupted my rest. I opened my eyes to see the mayor filling the doorway. A surge of guilt filled my guts. He was here, I was sure, to give me more jolts for fighting.

  “How you feeling?” he asked. I was surprised at the concern in his voice.

  “Better,” I hedged.

  “Good. Let me cut to the chase. I should have stopped my sons from giving you such a hard time. I’m sorry I didn’t. You probably haven’t seen either of them. Jason’s been busy on watch, and Josh’s broken leg is keeping him down.”

  I did my best to keep the smile off of my face at hearing about Josh’s broken leg. It wasn’t hard, my bottom lip was split and it hurt to talk.

  “I’m not going to punish either of you. It seems the two of you are both in enough pain the way it is. Hopefully, you’ve learned that the only outcome of a fight is pain. It doesn’t do anyone any good.”

  I chose not to answer him. Even though what he said held some truth, I didn’t completely agree. I’d have taken twice as much pain to experience what I was feeling now. It wasn’t that I’d hurt Josh bad enough for his father to come and talk to me, it was I no longer felt like a slinking weasel. Fighting still wasn’t my thing, but I’d rather take a few punches than go back to the helplessness of hiding and sneaking and being bullied.

  “There is one other reason I’m here. Your punishment for killing the deer is set for a week from today. That should give you plenty of time to get back on your feet.”

  I wondered if I should push my luck, and it occurred to me that asking him wasn’t all that much different from standing up to Josh. In fact, it should be easier. I doubted the question would make the mayor angry enough to hit me.

  He was at the door before the question floundered out through my swollen lips. “Why did you make it illegal to hunt?”

  He froze in the doorframe with his back to me for the space of one long breath before he said, “It’s my town. I make the laws. You don’t have to understand them. You just have to obey them.” He slipped through the doorway and disappeared down the hall.

  I waved the back of my hand at the door in disgust. It wasn’t nearly as satisfying as punching Josh in the mouth. I knew Sawyer would tell me the answer, but I wasn’t ready to ask him. I wanted to hear it from the mayor and I wanted to give myself another chance to ask him. There was empowerment in facing my fears, and I was enjoying every minute of it.

  After the mayor left, I realized that he might not have been totally honest. If I were punished for fighting, an offense usually penalized by two jolts, then Josh would get the same. It made me wonder.

  A few days later, Frank put me back on watch in the house on the edge of town. Nothing had changed. Charlie Meyer kept the combine going. Millie kept the food hot and filling, if not always tasty, and Frank and the mayor kept the town running.

  In the week leading up to my jolts, I saw Josh hobbling around on a pair of crutches a few times. It wasn’t surprising he didn’t get out much. The times I did see him, he avoided me. Was that because his father talked to him? Or had I’d proven that I wasn’t going to be an easy target anymore? Jason stayed away from me, too. In the back of my mind, I wondered if the two of them would jump me someday. If they did, I’d do my best to knock the snot out of both of them.

  I quit wasting time shadowing Chane. The mayor stayed quiet about her actions. I didn’t blame him, but because the townsfolk didn’t know the truth, they looked at me like I was a hero. I didn’t deserve their praise—I hadn’t ea
rned it.

  Sawyer’s leg wasn’t completely healed, but he no longer needed crutches. Dr. White, the mayor, and Frank all thought it best to let him stay in the infirmary until he was ready to leave. I offered my RV, but because my door was still broken, I was overruled.

  I visited him when there was time. He shared stories about his life as a Forager. None of them sounded as exciting as my own adventure, but I loved hearing his tales. I tried to imagine all the different places he’d been, and the people he’d met. My favorite part of his stories was the way his eyes lit up when he described finding a difficult item. It reminded me of my own success.

  The day before my jolts was the day of the trade with the Scavengers. We’d loaded wagons with apples, wheat, corn, and cheeses. A fifth was packed with clothing. According to Frank, it was half of what the Scavengers wanted.

  Nobody asked me to help with the trade, but if the mayor or Frank didn’t want me to go, then they shouldn’t have set the meeting site on the road my post overlooked.

  Heavy clouds filled the late afternoon sky when I spotted the Scavengers coming down the highway. Only a minute or so later, Frank, the mayor, and Sawyer led a small convoy of wagons past my post. The clouds weren’t thick enough yet to do anything, but if they continued to build, we’d have rain before morning.

  I didn’t signal the alarm. Instead, I walked out of the house and up to Sawyer. “They’re coming down the road now.”

  “How many?” asked the mayor.

  “Six riders, leading a wagon.”

  “Weapons?” Sawyer asked.

  “None in their hands.” I knew that didn’t mean anything.

  All the men had sheathed rifles attached to their saddles. Sawyer’s bow also rested in a scabbard and he’d found a holster for the pistol I’d Foraged for him. I didn’t like all the weapons, but it would be impossible to convince them to leave the guns behind. It was pointless to ask.

  “Good enough,” said the mayor. “Now get back up there and make sure there aren’t any more Scavengers sneaking up behind them.”

  “This trade wouldn’t even be happening if weren’t for Dillon,” Sawyer said. “I agree that someone needs to keep watch, but…” Sawyer laid a hand on my shoulder. “He should go with us. Dillon and their leader are familiar with each other. Things might go smoother with him along.”

  The mayor surprised me by nodding. “Frank, have one of the hostlers take Dillon’s place at the window.”

  Sawyer offered me a hand and pulled me up behind him on Fred. The strength in his grip assured me he was feeling better.

  “Let’s go make a trade,” Frank said.

  I didn’t know about anyone else, but excitement rippled through my body. Others were probably nervous, or maybe even scared, but I knew Rasp needed to make this trade work. I’m not sure why she told me about her mistake in demanding too large of a ransom, or the need for compensation, but I was glad she had shared. We rode out onto the road and waited for the approaching Scavengers.

  After a short wait, they arrived. I had recognized Rasp from several hundred yards away. Now that they were closer, I also saw Mike, the man that led me into the Scavengers’ house with the shotgun, and Marsh, the man who gathered the contents of Sawyer’s saddlebags. The other three I didn’t know. All six of them carried sheathed weapons on their horses. I hoped everyone stayed calm and kept those rifles in their scabbards.

  Rasp rode up, handed a paper to the mayor, and said, “This is a list of what we’ve brought.” She noticed me sitting behind Sawyer. “Hello, Dillon. It’s good that you’re here.” Then she backed up her horse so that we were about ten feet apart.

  Sitting there with a stupid grin across my face, I stared at her. I couldn’t pull my gaze away. Even with the cloud cover, her eyes shone a dazzling green.

  Sawyer nudged me with his elbow. He turned, and in a harsh whisper told me, “Quit staring!”

  Blood rushed to my face, making my cheeks uncomfortably warm. I quickly looked around at everything but Rasp, and wondered again if Sawyer had eyes in the back of his head.

  As the mayor scanned the list, his brow wrinkled. The list obviously meant nothing to him. “How does this list compare with the one Dr. White gave you?”

  “It’s exactly half of the requested medicines, and half the quantity,” Rasp said. “What have you brought?”

  Frank listed what was in the wagons, but the mayor finished with, “But, since you’ve only brought one-quarter of what we’ve asked for, I’m not willing to trade our full amount.”

  I agreed with him, for once. This trade needed to be fair. We couldn’t give them an advantage. At the same time, I didn’t want Rasp cheated. Fortunately, she understood this too.

  “Half of what you’ve brought is acceptable.”’

  The mayor nodded and both he and Rasp rode forward and shook hands. My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Could it really be that easy?

  Sawyer turned in his saddle again. Pride for me brimmed in his blue eyes. More blood rushed to my face, and my cheeks must have been redder than when I’d gotten a bad sunburn last spring.

  All of us pitched in together to unload the medicines from the Scavengers’ wagon and reload it with exactly half of what we’d brought. I don’t know if anyone but me noticed how we all worked side by side. A small, proud smile lifted my lips and I nodded my head in awe. Who’d have ever thought that Scavengers would be working alongside townspeople?

  We ran into a snag when the Scavengers’ wagon was full. We owed them more than their wagon could carry.

  Frank and the mayor held their heads close together. It looked like Frank was trying to convince the mayor of something. A few moments later, the pair walked forward. The mayor gave Frank an I’m not sure this is a good idea look and said to Rasp, “In the interests of time, and in an effort to show our good will, I will allow you to borrow one of our wagons and a team to pull it. On the condition that they are returned on our next trade.”

  Rasp accepted, and the lot of us loaded the second wagon. When it was done, we shook hands. Frank and Rasp set a date for the next exchange. With smiles and waves, we said our goodbyes and the Scavengers headed for home.

  As we rode back to the house, I caught one more glimpse of Rasp. I hoped there were girls out there that could compare. Otherwise, I was destined to be a bachelor.

  Dismounting at the house, I was ready to resume my post. Sawyer looked down at me and said, “You should be proud of yourself, Dillon. This trade wouldn’t have happened without you.”

  I beamed with pride and blushed again. It wasn’t to last long.

  The mayor rode up and said, “Don’t forget, town square, midmorning, tomorrow.”

  I didn’t need reminding. I don’t know if he said it to bring me down a notch or if it was just in passing. Whatever the reason, he’d put his boot on my pride and squashed it.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  It rained overnight, leaving the next morning bleak and overcast, and the air wet and humid. Sunlight was beginning to burn holes in the dark curtain of clouds as I walked to breakfast, though.

  “Dillon,” Millie said as I stood in front of her waiting for my food. “You’ll be okay. Don’t worry about the jolts. You’ll see.” Her words offered a small bit of comfort to my worried state.

  I sat down next to Charlie Meyer. It was a rare treat to eat with him. He was usually busy working in the fields. “Hey, Charlie, looks like the rain gave you a day off,” I said.

  “Ain’t goin out to the fields, wouldn’t anyway. Not today. Got somethin’ else I gotta take care of,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “Never you mind, boy. This is between me and the mayor. See, there’s things you do, and things ya don’t. I’m just gonna make sure the mayor don’t.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about. “How’s the harvest going?”

  “Real good, we’ve been lucky that it ain’t rained a’fore now. Got most of the fields done, anothe
r two weeks or so of dry weather should see it finished.”

  After that we talked about small stuff—horses, machines, homemade batteries, and Millie’s cooking.

  I didn’t eat much. Despite the light conversation, jolts were foremost in my mind. It was good the mayor had scheduled them for midmorning instead of midday, but even so, I had a couple of hours to kill. I decided to go home and visit Fred. The mayor wanted her stabled with the rest of the horses, but Sawyer insisted she stay with me. I liked having Fred close.

  Taking my time, I gave her a thorough grooming. The sun had burned off all the dark clouds from the night before and made her coat shine. When I was done, I refilled her water and gave her some oats.

  It was time. I left Fred and trekked down the road. The rain had plastered green, yellow, red, and orange leaves on the asphalt. After only a few blocks, I heard the clomp, clomp of hooves on the pavement behind me. Sawyer rode Fred and led Bonnie—the mare Josh had ridden when we went looking for the Scavengers—toward me. He must have arrived at my RV only minutes after I’d left.

  He rode up next to me. The silver clover on his hat glimmered in the morning sun. “You don’t have to do this. We can leave now and you’ll never have to worry about the mayor or his stun baton again.”

  “Leave?” I asked.

  Sawyer’s face lit with a huge smile. “You’re coming with me. That is, if you’re willing. I want to take you to the governor. You’ve got the makings of a fine Forager.”

  I stood and stared at his beaming face. My first question should have been about going with him, or about not getting my jolts. Instead, I asked, “What about the deer? I still want to know why it’s illegal.”

  “I can tell you that as we ride,” he said.

  I stopped in my tracks. Part of me wanted to climb on Bonnie and gallop away. No jolts, no humiliation, and no penalty for a law that didn’t make sense. But a bigger part wanted to know, wanted to hear, from the mayor himself why he’d made that law.