Regretful Love

Chapter Five

                  

The afternoon rolled on, as hot as the day before, maybe hotter. He found some food: summer berries barely ripe, some wild garlic to chew on to keep the hunger pangs at bay. He wasn't that hungry these days, though. Not like when he was younger and first out on the road, when the deep, spiking pains of hunger would keep him awake at night. The girl looked like she could use feeding up, though, so he tried.

They passed a couple of farms, and, after he'd told the girl about his plan to stop and find some work, she began pointing them out to him in the distance.

"Nope," he'd said to the first two. They'd looked well-kept, and men were in the outbuildings. There'd be no work in these places, not for someone like him.

The third place looked pretty hopeful, and Kell had let himself in through the gate, carefully closing it behind him, walking around the yard and looking. But when he came out, he shook his head again.

"Why not this time?" the girl said. She didn't sound impatient, though Kell thought that her legs were probably aching and she needed to stop for a while.

"Couldn't see anything needed doing." Kell shrugged.

"You could ask," said the girl.

He chuckled. "That's one of the first lessons of being on the road," he told her. "So listen carefully. If you go up and knock on a door looking like I do and ask for work, you're giving people a choice. And mostly they're gonna say no. Think about it. If you lived in one of these nice places, would you want hobos hanging around your yard? 'Course not."

They'd walked back to the road now, leaving the driveway of the farm, and Kell's knees were glad to be off the rocky track and back on tarmac.

"What you have to do instead is scout around a bit. Find something that looks like it needs doing, and then offer to do that. That way you're taking all the work out of their decision. Some are still gonna say no, of course. But then there's those that think: 'Hmm, I wouldn't mind that barn finally painted.' Or: 'Yes, that fence is looking a bit rickety.' And you've planted the idea in their heads. Plus, you've shown some initiative, shown that you're willing to work, willing enough that you've even already planned something to do. And folks like that."

"I see," said the girl.

"You need to prove yourself, always. We all need to prove ourselves, every day. And every little bit you do towards that makes you not just appear a better person, but be a better person, too. Leastways, that's the way I see things."

They kept walking, and Kell kept telling his knees just to make it to the next tree, just make it to that bend, make it to where that rock's sitting, and then pushing it a little further. He didn't know why he was so achy today; he wasn't usually like this. Just another sign, he supposed.

Another couple of miles and the girl pointed out another farm. Kell nodded, and they made their way there, turning into the driveway.

"This one looks pretty good," Kell said, wanting to give the girl some hope that there was a chance of getting something today. "They've got a barn where we could sleep."

"We could wait until it was dark and just sleep in there anyway," she said. "No one would know, probably."

"We could," said Kell. "But we won't. We'll work honest for our keep. You take nothing when you're on the road with me."

Again he felt the weight of the Zippo in his pocket.

He'd already decided that this was the place. It looked good. He scanned around as he made his way to the front door, looking for something that needed to be done. Craning his neck, he could see inside the large barn, its door half open.