Her mother scrunched her nose. “Why would you say that? It’s a perfectly normal request.” She said this as though Charity’s objection was that the matchmaking was too obvious. “You can do some shopping for us while you’re in Kansas City. You’ll have fun.”
Well, this was what Charity got for keeping last night’s disaster to herself. She should’ve told her mother that she didn’t want to be around Enzo for a while.
Charity couldn’t say anything more on the subject though because Enzo strolled over to their table. “You have an assignment for me?”
Her father finished off a bite of food. “Yes, I want you and Charity to deliver Callum to his parents at the clinic.” He pulled another scrap of paper from his pocket and handed it to Charity.“Here’s a list of things to buy in the city. Don’t stay too long, though. You shouldn’t be on the road at night.”
Sending them together was a horrible idea. She tried to convey this to her father through silent wide-eyed pleadings, but he didn’t notice. He was looking at Enzo, who seemed equally unhappy about the assignment. And that made this all the worse. Enzo didn’t want to be around her either.
“I’m not the best one to take Callum,” Enzo said. “Someone might recognize me in Kansas City. Remember, my old boss threatened action against me.”
Her father kept eating, unconcerned. “In a place of half a million people, the chances are low you’ll run into anyone who knows you, and even lower that you’ll run into anyone who knows your boss filed an action against you. I want you to go because you’re familiar with the city. You’ll know good places to shop.” Her father gave Enzo a meaningful look. “And perhaps some unreputable places as well.”
Enzo’s eyebrows lifted. “That depends on what you want to buy. As a data entry clerk, I didn’t have a lot of dealings with the black market.”
Her father held up his hand to stop Enzo’s protest. “I don’t want anything that would shock you. Only antibiotics, pain meds, that sort of thing. Out here, we can’t run to a city every time we need a prescription. We need medicine on hand. You can get that sort of thing, can’t you?”
“Oh.” Enzo rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess.”
Charity had hoped Enzo’s protests would prevent the two of them from being forced together for the day, but no. It would fall to her to rearrange her father’s plans.
“I can’t go,” she said. “The last time I went on a shopping expedition, slavers captured me. Just thinking about it gives me anxiety.” She put her hand to her chest. “I’m not ready to face the outside world again.”
Her mother’s gaze slid to her, creased with suspicion. Perhaps Charity didn’t look sufficiently anxious, which was ironic. Shewasanxious. “Milo should be the one to go,” she added. “He’s better at bartering.”
Her father shook his head. “You’re better with medicine. Besides, most of the stores have fixed prices.”
“Mom is better than me at?—”
“You need to get back on that horse,” her father insisted. He liked to pull out this phrase whenever she or her brothers failed at something. Hearing it now didn’t encourage her.
Charity pursed her lips. “Sometimes it’s okay not to get back on the horse. Sometimes the horse is trying to kill you.”
Enzo tilted his head in confusion. He’d obviously never heard the phrase before. “We’re riding horses to the city? Why would they try to kill us?”
Her father laughed at the questions. “You’ll take the maroon truck. Getting back on a horse after it throws you is just a saying about the necessity of doing hard things.”
“Horses throw you off?” Enzo asked. “I thought they liked people.”
Her father wiped his hands on his napkin. “If I ever assign you to take care of a rancher’s horses, remind me of this conversation.” He stood and motioned for Charity and Enzo to follow him. “You’ll need to take guns with you. I’ll see if we have any bullets that fit Enzo’s.”
Enzo followed him. Charity stayed at the table for a few moments, silently protesting the assignment. Her father didn’t even notice.
Fine. She had no choice, and the whole day would be horribly awkward. She got up and trailed after the other two.
By the time she reached her parents’ bunkhouse, her father had put the metal lockbox on top of his bed. He opened the lid, revealing the weapons inside.
Enzo’s eyes grew wide, and he let out a low whistle. “That’s quite the stash. Where did you get it?”
Fortunately, most of the guns and ammo had already been sent to New Salem. The safe held a few battered guns that belonged to other harvesters, her family’s Glock, the tranquilizer gun her father kept for when they had to work with unruly cattle, and a Magnum they’d taken from a slaver at the last market.
Enzo gaped at the boxes of ammo they’d gotten at the same time. Specifically, a box of gold-tinged specialty bullets. None of them knew what sort of specialty, but her father hoped they could be a valuable trade.
He handed Enzo’s gun to him. “We liberated the rifle and ammo from some slavers when we freed Callum.”
Enzo picked up one of the gold bullets and rolled it between his fingers. “These are armor-piercing. Only the government is supposed to have them. If the authorities found them on you, you’d be in trouble.”
So they couldn’t be traded. Her father nodded but instead of seeming worried about that information, he brightened. He would no doubt send them to New Salem in their next shipment for the city’s arsenal.