Redwood Country Flea Market: A Short Story

William stared out the window and kept his hand on his daughter’s shoulder. He knew she was right. Mary viewed the farmhands the same way she viewed livestock on the estate. Eric or any of the men at Heritage Woods would never be good enough.

“Then you’re going to have to trust me. I will work on your mother, I promise. You just have to promise me that you’ll play along for a little while. Just wait until your brother is married.”

“You promise?”

“Yes, honey. I promise.”

“I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart. Now, grab that clipboard on the seat next to you and let’s go over what we need to find at the market.”

One of the men on horseback rode up to the driver-side window and motioned for William to stop. William stepped on

the brake and leaned out the window. “What’s up?” William asked.
“There are some men on the shoulder of the road up ahead. I can’t see how many, but it’s more than a handful.”
“Thieves?”
“Maybe.”
“Take a couple men and ride up there to take a look,” William said.
Three farmhands slung their assault rifles across their laps. They checked the action on the rifles, flipped the safeties to the fire position, and rode ahead. The remaining farmhands took defensive positions surrounding the truck. William pulled a Glock 9mm out of his holster and held it on his lap. He reached over and opened the glovebox. He removed a .38 Smith and Wesson revolver and handed it to Susan. William watched the farmhands ride up to the men on the side of the road. After a few minutes of conversation, the farmhands waved the truck forward. William drove towards the farmhands. One of the farmhands rode back towards the truck and spoke to William through the window.
“They’re sketchy motherfuckers for sure. Oops, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize there was a young lady in the truck,” the farmhand said.
“It’s okay,” William said. “What did you tell them?”
“I told them we were from Blue Hills, and they saw our firepower. We’ve got ‘em outmanned and outgunned,” the farmhand said. “We’re definitely not a soft target; we should cruise through without a problem.”
“All right, but keep an eye on them.”
“Absolutely.”
The farmhands kept their rifles pointed at the highway robbers as they passed. The bandits were sitting on the shoulder of the road at a curve that was perfect for an ambush. William glared at the men as they passed. One of the thieves had the gall to wink at William. William considered ordering the farmhands to open fire and cut the men down, but Susan’s presence in the cab of the truck made him think twice. He decided to wait until Susan was out of earshot before ordering his men to ride back to the curve in the road and kill the thieves.
William drove the truck into a long, narrow parking lot that spread out along Route 5 in the shadow of Sleeping Giant.

A sign at the entrance to the market announced their arrival at the Redwood Country Flea Market. The market was once a smalltime operation only open on Saturday and Sunday afternoons. It was a place for people to empty out their garages and sheds, and sell off junk and extra stuff without having to organize garage or tag sales. With the collapse of interstate commerce, and closure of the big box stores and supermarkets, Redwood transformed into a bustling farmer’s market, and eventually grew into an indispensable feature of commerce in the greater New Haven

area.
William parked the truck and helped the farmhands unload the trailer.

The men placed Blue Hills produce on tables under a Blue Hills Farm Stand banner. Men and women in the market immediately flocked to the tables. Blue Hills’ farmhands only accepted Canadian dollars for their goods and produce. William kept a reserve of produce, alcohol, and marijuana in the bed of the truck while his men spread out across the market searching for gasoline, propane, spare parts for the community’s generators and vehicles, penicillin, and medical supplies to barter for. When his men found the supplies on the list prepared by Crocco and Mary, they returned to the truck to review the negotiations with William and finalize the details of the trade. By Noon, the Blue Hills Farm Stand was bare, and the trailer and bed of the truck loaded with fresh supplies.

“Take the truck and my daughter back to Blue Hills,” William told one of the farmhands. “Bring a dozen men with you to make sure you get back without incident. I’ll ride back with the rest of the men in a few hours.”

“How come you’re not coming back to the estate?” Susan asked William when he told her she was riding back without

him.
“There’re a few things I need to check on. I’ll meet you home in a few hours.”
“What do you need to check?” Susan asked.
“The men and I are going to ride around the perimeter of Sleeping Giant over by Quinnipiac University. I want to check on the condition of the fences.”
“Be careful.”
“Always. Tell your mother I’ll be back before dark,” William said.
William watched the Ford and mounted escort pull out of the market and turn north on Route 5. William waited for the truck to roll out of sight before walking towards the back of the market. Two farmhands stayed with the horses, and four men followed William to an RV parked in a corner of the lot. The farmhands stood guard while William walked up to the RV and knocked on the door.
“Yeah, what do you want?” A man’s voiced hollered from inside the RV.
William knocked a second time. The door opened and a man with a beer belly, wearing a stained t-shirt, and filthy boxer shorts opened the door.
“Mr. Blake,” the man said.
The man stepped aside and William climbed a set of steps into the RV. A 15-years-old girl in a short, paisley sundress sat on a sweat-stained couch, and an older woman missing several teeth stood at the sink smoking a cigarette.
“Same price as last time?” William asked.
“She’s the same,” The man said, nodding towards his decrepit wife. “It’s an extra ounce and growler for the girl.”
“Is she clean?” William asked. “Last time she smelled like shit.”
The man nodded to his daughter. The girl stood up from the couch and lifted her sundress to show William that she was wearing a pair of clean, white panties. William walked over to inspect the teenager. A sweet waft of vanilla filled his nose as he ran his fingers across the girl’s tight stomach.
“You smell good. Were you expecting me today?” William asked. The girl smiled at him. “All right, an extra ounce and growler.”
William walked outside and spoke with his men. One of the farmhands accompanied William into the RV. They placed three sixty-four ounce growlers of homebrewed beer, four mason jars of hard cider, and a milk jug of vodka on the table. William threw two ounces of marijuana at the man in the stained t-shirt and told him to get the fuck out of the RV. The man pulled on a pair of pants and told William and the farmhand to have fun. The farmhand moved towards the man’s wife. William led the girl to ta small bedroom at the back of the RV.