Sherrie ‘Sharp-Shooter’'s Arc

Chapter 13 of 13

She drove back to the trade post at noon. Her father was standing in the yard when she pulled in. He waved her over to the loading dock where the convoy drivers were gathered around their trucks. She parked and walked toward him, watching his face for the tell that meant he knew something was wrong. But he just smiled and put his hand on her shoulder. He said these were the men she'd be working with from now on and they needed to hear it from him. The drivers formed a half circle around them. Her father told them Sherrie was the sole operator of the business and every deal would go through her. He said he'd built the routes but she was the one who kept them open when the Ravens tried to shut them down. The lead driver nodded and shook her hand. Then a man in a dusty suit pushed through the group. He said her father owed him sixty crates of medical supplies from a deal made two years ago and he wanted to know if Sherrie planned to honor it. Her father's face went still. She'd never seen this man before and her father had never mentioned any outstanding debt. The man pulled out a folded contract with her father's signature at the bottom. He said he'd waited long enough and now that Sherrie was running things he wanted his payment or he'd take it to the other traders. Her father looked at her. She realized this ceremony wasn't just about passing the business to her. It was about making sure everyone knew who was responsible when the bills came due. She looked at the contract in the man's hand and then at her father. The convoy drivers had gone quiet. They were waiting to see if she'd fold or if she'd stand. Her father had taught her how to read a room and this one was testing her before she'd even started. She asked the man what he needed the supplies for. He said that wasn't her concern. She told him if he wanted payment from her operation he'd answer the question or walk away empty. He glanced at the drivers and then back at her. He said he ran a camp on the eastern edge where travelers stopped between settlements. They needed medical stock for injuries and sickness. She asked why he hadn't collected two years ago when the debt was fresh. He said her father kept promising delivery and then the routes got dangerous. She looked at her father and he nodded once. The debt was real. She told the man she'd honor the contract but the payment terms had changed. Sixty crates was more than she could spare without breaking her other deals. She'd give him twenty now and ten more every two months until the debt was settled. He started to argue but she cut him off. She said her father made promises when he controlled the routes but those routes were gone now. She was offering him guaranteed delivery on a schedule that wouldn't collapse her operation. He could take it or spread word that her business didn't honor agreements and watch how fast the convoy drivers walked away. The lead driver from the western settlements stepped forward. He said he'd witness the new terms if both parties agreed. The man in the suit looked at the contract and then at the drivers standing around them. He folded the paper and put it in his pocket. He said he'd take the deal. Her father pulled her aside while the convoy drivers loaded their trucks. He said he should have told her about the debt before the ceremony. She said it didn't matter now. He asked if she had twenty crates of medical supplies ready to move and she said she'd pull them from the stock she'd hidden in her apartment building. He looked surprised. She told him she'd been keeping two sets of books since the woman on the armored bus showed up. One for him to see and one that tracked what was really happening. He smiled and said that was the trick he'd taught her when she was sixteen. She said she remembered. He put his hand on her shoulder again but this time it felt different. Like he was letting go instead of holding on. He said the business was hers now and whatever came next was her problem to solve. She watched him walk to his truck and drive away. The convoy drivers finished loading and the lead driver handed her a signed contract for their three monthly runs. She folded it and put it in her jacket. The trade post yard was empty except for the red delivery truck they'd given her. She walked over and climbed into the driver's seat. The engine started on the first try. She drove to the camp on the eastern edge the next morning with twenty crates stacked in the back of the red truck. The man in the dusty suit was waiting outside a cluster of tattered tents and makeshift shelters. Travelers moved between the canvas structures carrying water and supplies. She