Chicken Culprit by Vikki Walton

Author:Vikki Walton [Walton, Vikki]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction
Publisher: Morewellson, Ltd.
Published: 2021-04-14T00:00:00+00:00

By the time Anne arrived at Kandi’s, a line of cars had formed in front of the house. Inside, a cluster of men and women were either piling food on plates or pouring coffee into various mugs set on the counter. Jeff made his way halfway down the back kitchen staircase, shook his head, turned, and hurried back upstairs.

Chairs were set up in a semicircle. People sat with plates perched precariously on their laps. A whiteboard stood next to the fireplace. The group of people hushed as Kandi entered and strode across the room. Grabbing Anne’s hand, she led her in front of the group.

“Everyone, this is Anne. She bought the old place across the cul-de-sac.” She motioned in the direction of Anne’s house. She was, like, with me when I found Ralph.” Kandi shivered and Anne instinctively placed a hand on her arm. Kandi beamed up at Anne.

A couple whispered to each other.

“Are we going to get started?” an elderly man with salt-and-pepper hair growled at the group. “I got work to do.”

Next to him, a petite woman patted his hand. “Now,

Stanley, you know we set aside time for this. Those boys out working will do just fine.”

He harrumphed and grabbed his Carhartt jacket as it slid toward the floor.

Kandi smiled at the group. “Thank you all for coming. As many of you know I’m, like, so excited to be this year’s chair of our annual homesteading fair. I—”

An older woman with hair dyed bright orange interrupted Kandi. “I think we need to cancel this event.” What’s up with older women and the stock Halloween hair colors? Oh patron saint of old ladies, please don’t let me pick orange, black, or even blue hair color when I get older. The orange-haired lady continued. “I’m just going to say it again. I don’t know why we need any homesteading fair. We got the county fair every year over in Larimer County.”

“Ms. Alice, you know that is an hour and a half away from Carolan Springs.” Kandi turned to the woman. “This is to create an avenue to showcase our growing agritourism efforts. It brings tourists.”

“I don’t want no dad-burn tourists coming here,” Stanley interjected. “We got enough of them city folk moving here already.” He stared pointedly at Anne.

Kandi sighed. “Now, Mr. Culpepper, you need to sell all those great apples from your orchard.”

Anne could almost see the wheels turning in Mr.

Culpepper’s mind about possible profits to be gained. “And Ms. Alice, like, everyone knows you make the most beautiful winning quilts in the county.” Alice beamed and sat up straighter.

One of the younger individuals in the group spoke up. She was half of a couple that looked to be about Kandi’s age. “I really think this is a great opportunity for us. We could use some help—”

“In my day, we didn’t gripe about help, we just did it,” the older man interrupted.

His wife patted his hand again, “Stanley.”

The young woman continued, “Our goats take a lot of work and, besides milking, there’s making cheese and soap.

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