“I’m alone.”
The guy from the market folded his arms. “You’re traveling these roads by yourself? That’s a mite dangerous. Where are you from?”
Time to see if his story held up. “Yeah, it’s dangerous. I started out from Kansas City on a bike and had it stolen from me an hour ago. I really need some work so I have a safe place to stay. I can’t walk much farther.”
Enzo knew the tells people had when they lied. He’d spotted them often enough as an officer. People licked their lips, swallowed, and rubbed their noses. They either stared intently at you to see if you were buying their story and their blink rate completely dropped, or they nervously blinked in quick succession.
Enzo fought not to do any of those things. “I’m a fast learner. I’ll do whatever you need.”
The market guy looked unimpressed. “What job did you hold before?”
Enzo dropped his gaze to the ground and hoped he looked sufficiently abashed. “Data entry. I worked with records.” He shrugged. “I made a mistake and erased some material. Nothing essential. The computer glitched, and I hadn’t backed things up. My boss was so angry, he threatened to have me arrested for sabotage. I decided an abrupt change of career was in order.”
The taller guy folded his arms as well. “So you’re saying you were incompetent at your last job, and you want to hire on with us?”
Really, Enzo hadn’t expected them to be so particular. He was clearly strong enough to do manual labor. The story about getting in trouble for a data entry mistake showed he too was in trouble with the government and not likely to turn them in for anything. “I’m more than capable of picking crops, pulling weeds, and fixing fences. I used to do that sort of thing at my grandma’s place.” That wasn’t a lie. His mother’s mother had a large garden, and anytime Enzo visited, she put him to work.
“As you pointed out,” Enzo went on, “it’s best not to travel by yourself, so I’d like to find a workers’ co-op.”
The taller guy wiped his hands on his jeans. Grease stains already spotted them. “We don’t need more hands right now, but we’ll have our father talk to you, in case you … in case he wants someone else. If he doesn’t hire you, we can at least send you on your way with some food and water.”
Well, that was progress. Enzo would just have to convince Ben Huntington of his capabilities.I can shovel manure with the best of them.“I’m much obliged.”
The brothers marched to the bunkhouse. “By the time we train him,” the taller brother said in a low voice Enzo probably wasn’t supposed to hear, “he’ll decide his chances in a city aren’t so bad and head back.”
“Desk dwellers,” the other agreed.
Desk dwellers? Enzo’s friends in the force would never let him live it down if the harvesters rejected him for not appearing strong enough.
After a few minutes, the two returned with a middle-aged man. He had a sturdy build and a three-day beard. Despite his long-sleeved shirt and the cowboy hat he wore, his skin was tanned and weathered.
Ben stared at Enzo, eyes narrowing, then as he grew closer, he smiled. Friendly. Welcoming. Not the sort of reaction he’d have if the man was a psychic who knew Enzo worked for the government.
Enzo let out a relieved breath.
Ben nodded in greeting. “Hello, son. I hear you’re looking for work.”
“Yes, sir,” Enzo said.
“You’ve come to the right place. We can always use a hard worker.”
For the first time, the taller brother smiled at Enzo. The one from the market scowled. His gaze bounced from Enzo to his father. “You’re sure?”
“I’m sure. What’s your name, son?”
It had been a long time since anyone had called Enzo son. Ben had done it twice now. The familiarity felt odd. “Lorenzo Smith. I go by Enzo.” Smith was such a common last name, no one would bother trying to find out information about him through a records search. He kept Enzo because he didn’t want to make the mistake of not responding to his own name.
Ben turned to his sons. “Milo and Gregor have introduced themselves already, I suppose.”
“In order to keep us straight,” the tall one said, “just remember the good-looking one is Gregor.”
Milo rolled his eyes. “Good-looking in this case meaning, tall and scrawny.”
“Do you have any weapons on you?” Ben asked Enzo.
“Just a pellet gun,” Enzo said. “It’s empty.”
Ben held out his hand. “You’ll need to turn it over to me anyway. Co-op rules. I lock them up until you decide to leave.”