The Bad Penny: An America Falls Thriller (The Drifter Book 3) by Scott Medbury

Author:Scott Medbury [Medbury, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-04-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

The next three days passed without trouble for Ragland as he helped the rest of the townsfolk make sure the approaching winter didn’t freeze their food in the ground.

Each morning, a step outside the Creaky Motel seemed to greet a deeper chill than the day before. His morning routine led him down to Simon’s to enjoy a half measure of coffee—fresh merchandise from a long cart ride down to the southwest.

Ragland hadn’t had coffee in years, and Simon mentioned it was a delicacy for them in these parts too. It took a long time for the supply team to travel, but despite the risk, it had always worked out well so far. Simon explained they didn’t just come back with coffee, but rice and other old-world trinkets and bits and pieces, too.

‘Our traders go well-armed,’ he explained one morning. ‘They take weapons and things to trade; Rahul is making quite a name for Bakerstown steel. If things get nasty though, well, they know how to handle themselves. And coffee sure boosts the morale around here.’

Ragland was inclined to agree. On the fourth day, he’d really gotten into the swing of things, meeting Viola and the others down in the dirt to pick potatoes now that the cabbage and kale had been farmed.

With half a week under his belt as a Bakerstown citizen, his face had grown familiar to the local folk, earning the occasional nod and wave from some. He got on well with the butcher, Jack, and stopped for a chat with him whenever they passed each other. He even had the pleasure of sharing an all-too-brief talk with Clint, the teacher, who, even though he was at least ten years younger than Ragland, was knowledgeable about the old world.

But his heart had been softened by the farmers. Odin especially, who had taken a liking to him and always found a way to make sure he was next to Ragland when they were picking.

Viola hadn’t missed it. On the fifth day, just after lunch, she giggled on the way back to the field, nudging him.

‘Might want to start calling yourself Thor.’

‘Why’s that?’ he said, slipping his gloves back on.

‘Odin has grown fond of you very quickly. Must be your calming influence, I guess.’

Ragland looked over and spotted Odin pressing his hands into the dirt and watching the earth pour off his fingers. Then, once it had all returned to the ground, he did it again. Then the kid looked up at him and smiled.

‘Maybe he does, but wasn’t Odin Thor’s father?’

Viola laughed again.

‘Probably, sorry, Norse mythology isn’t my strongest topic…’

On the sixth night, with the sun tucked behind the hills and the inky-black sky studded bright with a billion stars, the townsfolk had gathered at Simon’s Bar, for a harvest supper to celebrate the end of the season. They filled the sidewalk with wooden tables and erected additional torches and firepits.

Marly had extended the invitation to Ragland, who felt just as comfortable after a long day in the field as spending the evening alone in his shack, getting shut-eye.

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