Conflicted Home (The Survivalist Book 9) A American (fun to read .TXT) 📖

and said, “I don’t know if I’m well enough for this,” trying not to smile.

She rolled her eyes. “Get in, old man.”

“Now that hurt!” I mocked her.

As she climbed into the driver’s side, she pulled herself up to look over the roll-bar at me, “Bullshit.”

I nodded. “Yeah. You’re right,” I said as I got in on the passenger side.

We left the market in Altoona behind us. Jess was getting a thrill out of driving the big war wagon and took the old saying, drive it like you stole it, to heart as she flew into Umatilla. It was mid-morning and starting to get hot already. The sky was clear and bright, and the hot air blew over us as she roared into town. As we passed the old Ace Hardware, she asked, “You want to stop at the market?”

I nodded, “Yeah. Just for a minute.”

She did manage to slow the wagon down as we got to the market. I was beginning to think she was going to come in sideways. As she shut it down, I looked over at her and said, “Good driving there, Andretti.”

She gave me a dismissive look over her shoulder, replying, “Told you I could drive.”

As it was high summer, there were a few things coming into season in the Florida wilds for those that knew where to look. One thing, that most anyone could find, was blackberries. Florida blackberries are not like their northern kin. They are smaller, usually tarter and heavy with seed. But they were still good. I’d been keeping my eye out for the patches I knew of, and marking their progress. Waiting to see the bushes go from the bright red of young fruit to the nearly black that would signal ripe fruit. Even when passing at speed down the highway, they were easy to spot.

So, I wasn’t too surprised to see fruit in a couple of the stalls at the market. It reminded me to look in Altoona next time to see if there were any there. But one stall caught my eye. Sitting on the table were two large glass jugs of black liquid. I walked over and picked one up, “Is this what I think it is?” I asked.

The man behind the table was thin and bearded. He wore overalls with no shirt and only one strap buckled. “Blackberry wine,” he nodded.

I held the jug up to the light and asked, “How’d you get wine already?”

He pointed at the jug and said, “That’s from last year. I been savin’ it. Now that I can get more berries, I figured I’d trade it.”

“What’cha trading for it?” I asked. It was the standard question and was met with the most common reply, “What’cha got?”

I reached into the pocket on my vest where I kept a few silver dollars and pulled a couple out and held them up. He eyed them, then shook his head. “Naw. Them ain’t gonna do me any good.”

“What are you looking for, then?”

“Something to eat!”

I nodded and walked back over to the buggy. We kept a case of MREs in the back for those times we may be caught away from home unexpectedly. They were starting to become scarce and I assumed that with Tampa now out of the picture, the chance of us receiving any more was slim. But I also figured that a wedding party would be better with a little blackberry wine too!

I took four meals out and carried them back over to the table and laid them out. The old man looked at each one, reading the menu printed on the front.

“Chili Mac,” he said as he rubbed his chin. “I ain’t had nothing like that in a long time.”

“It’s one of the better ones too.”

Still scratching at the scruff on his face, he started to nod his head and reached out for the meals, “Alright. You got a deal.”

I put my hand on top of his, pressing it to the table. He looked up and I smiled and said, “First. I gotta sample it. Could be anything in that jug.”

He smiled a toothy grin, “Sheriff, you ain’t gonna find no better wine, I promise you that. Besides, what fool would try and cheat the damn Sheriff?”

I unscrewed the cap and said, “A damn fool.” And with a smile, I took a quick sip. It was an explosion of flavor unlike anything I’d tasted in a long time. I slowly capped the jug as I savored the elixir.

“We got a deal?”

“Oh, we got a deal. That is damn fine wine. As a matter of fact, I want the other one too. I’ll be right back.” I went to the buggy and got four more meals and carried them back to the table. The old man collected them up and turned to leave.

“Where you going?” I asked.

“I’m done for the day. I’m going home to eat!”

Aric walked up and leaned over my shoulder, asking, “What’s that?”

I looked at the two jugs and replied, “Oh. Just a little something for a party.”

He reached out for one of the jugs and I slapped his hand, “You will have to wait.”

He looked at me, then at the jugs. “But what is it?”

I smiled. “You’ll see at the party.” Picking the jugs up, I headed back towards the buggy. “But what is it?” He called out as I walked away. I just laughed and shook my head.

The market was uneventful aside from my dealing in liquor, and we left and headed for Eustis. I was sitting in the passenger seat as Jess pulled out onto 19. Aric leaned forward and asked, “You want to put those back here?” Inquiring about the jugs sitting in my lap.

“Nope. I’m good.” He lingered for a minute. I could feel him wanting to ask. “You’ll see soon enough!” I shouted, and he slumped back into his seat. It was killing him, and I was loving it.

Jess was headed to Eustis when I called for her to pull over at a most