Silas thornbush's Arc

Chapter 3 of 14

Silas was still at the hitching post when the other wagon pulled up. The driver climbed down and headed straight for the greenhouse, moving like someone who knew exactly what they wanted. Silas recognized the walk—someone on a supply run, same as him. The wagon sat there, bright and loaded. Flowers spilled over the sides, cut blooms packed in water, young plants stacked in crates. The setup was good—better than good. Whoever ran it knew the trade. Silas walked closer, noticed the seed packets organized by type, the way everything had a place. Professional work. Inside the greenhouse, voices rose. The owner was explaining something, her tone firm. Then a second voice—frustrated, insistent. Silas caught the word "roses" through the glass. He looked back at the order slip tied to his own wagon. The greenhouse owner had enough stock for one buyer, maybe. Not two. The voices kept going, back and forth, and Silas understood what was happening. This wasn't just another trader passing through. This was someone who needed the same flowers he'd just secured, someone whose wagon showed they weren't going away. He'd committed to cultivated stock, closed off wild harvesting to get reliable supply. But reliable didn't mean exclusive. The settlements on his route depended on him, and now he had competition for the only source that mattered. Silas untied his order slip and went back inside. If there wasn't enough stock for both of them, he needed to know now—and he needed to figure out how to keep his route supplied when someone else wanted the same thing. Inside, the greenhouse owner was showing Lovelock the display near the back wall—desert roses tucked into the bands of western hats, the petals deep pink against cream felt. Lovelock touched one of the blooms, testing the texture. "I need forty plants," Lovelock said. "Same as always." The owner shook her head. "I've got sixty total. Already promised thirty to him." She nodded at Silas. Lovelock turned, looked him over. "You're the one she mentioned. Stopped harvesting wild stock?" Silas nodded. "Just did." Lovelock studied him a moment, then looked back at the owner. "Then we split what's left. Thirty each." The owner hesitated. "That's not enough for either of your routes." Silas did the math. Thirty plants wouldn't cover half his settlements. But neither would zero. He met Lovelock's eyes. "I can work with thirty if you can." Lovelock nodded once. "Deal." The owner wrote up two slips, dividing the stock down the middle. Silas took his, knowing it meant choosing which settlements got flowers this month and which ones didn't. His route just got smaller, but it stayed alive. Outside, Lovelock loaded the roses into the bright wagon and pulled away. Silas climbed onto his bench and released the brake. Thirty plants instead of sixty. Not what he'd planned, but enough to start solving the problem. He'd have to build relationships with other greenhouses, find new suppliers, maybe even convince some settlements to grow their own stock from his plants. Competition meant he couldn't just buy and deliver anymore. The system he'd relied on wasn't enough. He'd have to think past the next supply run, build something that didn't depend on being first in line.