Ben Dover's Arc

Chapter 146 of 150

The cart reached the salt house at dawn. Ben climbed down with the box under one arm and the fox at his heels. The driver leaned back and held out his hand. "Half now," he said. "The rest when we hit the coast. That was the deal." Ben's stomach dropped. He had split his coin among his companions to smuggle it past the road crews. Lolly carried some. Joe held more. Millie hid the last share in her satchel. Now they were scattered across miles of forest, and Ben stood here with nothing but a few loose coins in his pocket. "I don't have it," Ben said. "Not all of it. My coin is with three others. They took separate roads." The driver's face went flat. He stepped down from the cart. "Then we don't have a deal. I don't move goods for promises." He pulled a battered old chest from the cart bed and set it hard on the ground. Inside, junk rattled like loose teeth. Ben looked at the salt house. He looked at the fox, calm against his leg. He needed the driver, and the driver needed proof of pay. Then he saw the small wooden container by the driver's boot, a cheerful thing with a clean finish and a word burned into a plate on its side. It had held the driver's own greasing rags. "Wait," Ben said. He dug the loose coins from his pocket. Four. He set them in the little container and held it out. "Down payment on the down payment. The rest walks in within the hour. My people are close." The driver snorted. He did not take the coins. "Close isn't here." Ben's hand shook. He set the container on the chest and unlatched his mother's box instead. He tipped the lid. The fox stiffened. A hum leaked into the morning air, low and hungry, the sound that drew hunters and worse. "You hear that?" Ben said. "That's what you're carrying. If I stand here haggling, it brings men with crossbows. You want your coin? Then trust me for one hour, or lose the whole load when they arrive." The driver's jaw tightened. He looked down the empty road. He looked at the humming box. Then he grabbed the lid and pressed it shut himself. The hum died. "One hour," the driver said. "Then I take the cart and you keep your trouble." B en whistled twice, high and sharp, the signal his companions knew. He did not know if any of them were near enough to hear. The sound faded into the pines. He sat on the old chest and waited, the fox in his lap, the driver counting under his breath. Then boots crunched on the road. Joe stepped from the trees first, a purse in his fist. Behind him came Lolly, wet to the knees. Ben let out his breath. The coin had come. The deal held. But the driver had seen the box open now, and he knew exactly what rode in the cart.