Ben Dover's Arc

Chapter 90 of 150

Ben walked the road toward the north post before dawn to check for Marty's chalk mark. The post was bare. He circled once, ran a thumb along the wood, and found nothing. Marty had not signaled yet. Cage's meeting was tonight. He had a chest hidden under a trough and no way to carry twelve heavy pieces to the mill alone. If he hired a stranger for the last leg, the stranger could bolt with the load the moment Ben's back turned at the handoff. He cut back toward Jack's yard through the alders. He needed a second pair of hands he could trust, and hands that would not talk after. Jack had made his position clear: the crate was off his property by dark, and his brother-in-law was already spent on the toll house run. Chilly Willy was in the yard splitting kindling when Ben came through the gate. He set the axe down without being asked. "One more haul," Ben said. "Tonight. Two miles to the mill. You carry one end, I carry the other. You leave before Cage's people see your face." Chilly Willy looked at the house, then at the road. "Jack said he was done." "Jack is. I'm asking you." "What's it worth." Ben opened his mother's chest on the stump. Two coins left. He set them both on the wood. "Everything I have. And a heavy drink after, on me, when this is over." Chilly Willy looked at the coins a long time. He picked up one and left the other. "Keep the second. You'll need it for the driver back." He spat into the dirt. "I'm not doing it for coin. Jack's wife is my sister. If Cage's people take the crate off you halfway and cut your throat, my sister answers questions for a year. Better I walk the road with you and see it through." Ben felt something ease in his chest that he had not known was tight. They went to the hut at dusk. Tax Evasion was still at the door, whittling the same stick. He tipped his chin at Ben and did not speak. Beside him sat a small blue-gray animal Ben had not seen before, calm-eyed, breathing slow, watching the road the way a dog watches a gate. On the ground by the pot stood a heavy wooden tankard, banded in iron, half full of something dark. "Yours?" Ben asked. "Borrowed," Tax Evasion said. "The creature drinks slow. Makes me look patient. Two shepherds passed at noon and neither slowed." Ben and Chilly Willy lifted the chest from under the trough. It came out clean. They set it on the handcart Chilly Willy had rolled up behind the alder. Ben looked north toward the post one more time. Still no chalk. He would check again at the fork. If Marty's mark was there, they went to the mill. If not, they turned north and ran. The handoff problem was solved. The trap was still open.