a
will."
"What’s a
will?"
"It’s a form that
says who gets your property when you die."
Porkchop walked
ahead of him along the edge of the field. The creek was running
high with the thaw and PC Pierre had to raise his voice to be heard
over the rushing water.
"I know the law. I
know what can happen after someone dies."
"What? What
happens?"
"If you don't have
a will, anyone of age who’s on the property at the time
automatically gets the farm," he told her. "Your grandfather didn’t
want the farm to go to your Pa but he also didn’t want squatters
taking over, so he made me the heir. I wrote it down, gave him a
copy and filed the original with the court in New Key."
"So if Pater died
tomorrow you’d get the farm? What about us?"
"I wouldn’t make
you leave, you know that."
Porkchop
nodded.
"Look, I only told
you this because he got sick again. This is only if something
happens. He’s a tough old man. Besides, a will can be changed."
Wills can be
changed, Mixer mused as he slid from his sister’s thoughts.
___
The man had been
working for Rank for three months now. He'd grown strong lugging
sacks of produce through the streets of Andrastyne.
He'd told Rank
that his name was Hap but not much else. The name had leapt into
his mind so quickly that he'd briefly hoped that his memory was
starting to return.
For his part, Rank
stopped asking him personal questions after a day or two. He
assumed that this man, Hap, if that was his name, was wanted
somewhere. That could be of benefit to him. He watched him closely
and casually asked around town about him. He found out nothing.
The thaw meant
that fishermen could once more go out on to the sea and that trade
could start again. It also meant that the labourers Rank ordered
for his spring auction had arrived early.
Hap was on a
delivery and Rank was rooting through a sack of beets when someone
hammered on his door.
"Rank! You ol'
sonofabitch, you in there?"
Gaines, ship
captain and human smuggler, was Rank's labour connection. Gaines
would snap up people along his travels and sell them to the highest
bidder. These free labourers were told that if they could pay for
their passage by the time they arrived, they would go free, but
Gaines and his crew stole anything of value from them the moment
they came on board.
Rank had always
given him a fair price and always stood him some maple whiskey.
Over glasses of it Rank asked him why he was so early.
"Had a bit of
trouble with one of them, so I skipped a lot of my usual places and
came straight here."
"But my customers
aren't coming for another four days! What am I supposed to do with
them? How'm I supposed to feed 'em?"
Gaines looked
around at the sacks of food.
"Seems you've got
plenty here."
"That's rations.
Not mine."
"Sure, sure. And
ol' Rank's not taking a bit off the top? Right. Look, you want 'em
or not? I got others interested."
"How many?"
"Five. Four
men."
"Don't get many
women."
"Yeah, she was the
trouble. Think she might be a defective."
"Yeah? Haven't
heard of one of them for a long time. What's her problem?"
Outcasts always
found their way into the biggest cities so Rank had come across his
fair share of defectives in his lifetime. The first ones he could
remember had been run out of Andrastyne when Rank was six years
old. A healer and a painter, and their young daughter, he recalled.
It was the healer they really didn't trust; she had tried to
convince the council that taking a little bit of what ailed you was
good for you in certain circumstances.
"Hard to say,"
Gaines shrugged. "But I don't mind saying, she gave all the boys
the creeps. Best get rid of her quickly."
Rank paid Gaines
and they both had another shot of whiskey. Together, they went to
collect the labourers from the ship. Rank lodged the four men at
the police station, bribing the duty officer with extra potatoes
and onions, but the officer refused to take the woman.
Rank took a good
look at her. She was tall, taller than
will."
"What’s a
will?"
"It’s a form that
says who gets your property when you die."
Porkchop walked
ahead of him along the edge of the field. The creek was running
high with the thaw and PC Pierre had to raise his voice to be heard
over the rushing water.
"I know the law. I
know what can happen after someone dies."
"What? What
happens?"
"If you don't have
a will, anyone of age who’s on the property at the time
automatically gets the farm," he told her. "Your grandfather didn’t
want the farm to go to your Pa but he also didn’t want squatters
taking over, so he made me the heir. I wrote it down, gave him a
copy and filed the original with the court in New Key."
"So if Pater died
tomorrow you’d get the farm? What about us?"
"I wouldn’t make
you leave, you know that."
Porkchop
nodded.
"Look, I only told
you this because he got sick again. This is only if something
happens. He’s a tough old man. Besides, a will can be changed."
Wills can be
changed, Mixer mused as he slid from his sister’s thoughts.
___
The man had been
working for Rank for three months now. He'd grown strong lugging
sacks of produce through the streets of Andrastyne.
He'd told Rank
that his name was Hap but not much else. The name had leapt into
his mind so quickly that he'd briefly hoped that his memory was
starting to return.
For his part, Rank
stopped asking him personal questions after a day or two. He
assumed that this man, Hap, if that was his name, was wanted
somewhere. That could be of benefit to him. He watched him closely
and casually asked around town about him. He found out nothing.
The thaw meant
that fishermen could once more go out on to the sea and that trade
could start again. It also meant that the labourers Rank ordered
for his spring auction had arrived early.
Hap was on a
delivery and Rank was rooting through a sack of beets when someone
hammered on his door.
"Rank! You ol'
sonofabitch, you in there?"
Gaines, ship
captain and human smuggler, was Rank's labour connection. Gaines
would snap up people along his travels and sell them to the highest
bidder. These free labourers were told that if they could pay for
their passage by the time they arrived, they would go free, but
Gaines and his crew stole anything of value from them the moment
they came on board.
Rank had always
given him a fair price and always stood him some maple whiskey.
Over glasses of it Rank asked him why he was so early.
"Had a bit of
trouble with one of them, so I skipped a lot of my usual places and
came straight here."
"But my customers
aren't coming for another four days! What am I supposed to do with
them? How'm I supposed to feed 'em?"
Gaines looked
around at the sacks of food.
"Seems you've got
plenty here."
"That's rations.
Not mine."
"Sure, sure. And
ol' Rank's not taking a bit off the top? Right. Look, you want 'em
or not? I got others interested."
"How many?"
"Five. Four
men."
"Don't get many
women."
"Yeah, she was the
trouble. Think she might be a defective."
"Yeah? Haven't
heard of one of them for a long time. What's her problem?"
Outcasts always
found their way into the biggest cities so Rank had come across his
fair share of defectives in his lifetime. The first ones he could
remember had been run out of Andrastyne when Rank was six years
old. A healer and a painter, and their young daughter, he recalled.
It was the healer they really didn't trust; she had tried to
convince the council that taking a little bit of what ailed you was
good for you in certain circumstances.
"Hard to say,"
Gaines shrugged. "But I don't mind saying, she gave all the boys
the creeps. Best get rid of her quickly."
Rank paid Gaines
and they both had another shot of whiskey. Together, they went to
collect the labourers from the ship. Rank lodged the four men at
the police station, bribing the duty officer with extra potatoes
and onions, but the officer refused to take the woman.
Rank took a good
look at her. She was tall, taller than
Similar Books
