CHAPTER FOUR: "APPLE CIDER & POPURI"
Word spreads quickly in Flowerbud. This was in no small part thanks to the three ladies that Jack had met in the Town Square in the morning. Before everyone had a chance to finish lunch, there wasn't a soul in Flowerbud who didn't know that Jack now ran the Old Time Farm. Once he was done at the Redwood Inn, he made his way through town and loaded up on all the tools he'd need to get the farm back on the right foot. A hoe, pickaxe, axe, watering can. If he needed anything else he'd come back; it wasn't a far walk into town.
His trip to the General Store was a less than stellar meeting as he headed inside just in time to see the store owner being ripped off. He walked in and there stood a tall, well-dressed man in a white shirt and purple vest. He was clean-shaven and had a head of short black hair shot through with an occasional white stripe at the temple.
"I've got to get some things for the wife, Jeff" He heard the man say in a deep, loud voice. The young man behind the counter wore white button down shirt and a black bowtie. He had black hair, gelled down to his head and a tiny mustache. The man nodded. "Of course, Duke."
Duke stuffed a few things into the grocery bag and headed right for the door. "Put it on my tab."
Jeff cast a downward glance. "Oh. Alright."
Duke walked past Jack without a second glance. Jack scoffed. What a bum. The door opened and Karen walked in. "Dad, you didn't just take Duke's credit, did you?"
"Well-."
"Never mind. I'll get the money myself." She turned and saw Jack standing near the door. Karen walked over. "You saw that?"
"Yeah, I saw it. Who was that?"
Karen's face held the look of someone who's eaten a burned cookie. "That was Duke, the owner of the Flowerbud Vineyard. He's great at making wine, but when it comes to people, his skills leave something to be desired. When he throws his weight around, he tends to get what he wants."
"What exactly are you going to do to get the money from him?" Jack asked.
Karen lifted an eyebrow and walked past him, out of the store and out of her father's earshot. Once outside, she said, "I don't know. I might just give dad my money and then make Duke pay me back."
"Please tell me you haven't done this before." Jack asked.
"Several times." Karen sighed and began heading for Duke's house. "My dad is the world's biggest pushover, so I'm used to it." They walked in silence for another minute. The spring air was crisp and smelled of honey and pollen.
Jack turned to Karen and smiled, "Tell you what: I'll foot the bill and let Duke pay me back."
Karen inclined her head towards him. "You'd really do that? His tab is over two thousand dollars."
"Well, look at it this way: I'm less of a pushover. Come by the farm tonight and I'll have the cash ready." He walked clear past her and he to stop. She stood stock still with a shocked expression on her face. "Who are you, Jack? What kind of person does this kind of thing?"
"Just me, Karen. Just me. See ya tonight." Jack made his way back to the General Store to gather himself a great deal of groceries. Lunch came and went; Jack heartily ate some sandwiches and a salad. After lunch, he looked to the field and decided to get started.
First thing was first: clearing the weeds. Using his new scythe, he cleared them down one by one. The afternoon wore on. He was glad to have his cap on because the sun was overbearing at times. Luckily, he had a ready supply of cold drinks nearby.
Five in the afternoon rolled around and he found that he had cleared out only a fifth of his fields. He wasn't exhausted, by any stretch of the imagination, but it took its toll on him. He looked up in time to see the pilot of the ferry walking into his farm and straight to his cooler. He opened it up and looked inside. "What the...?"
"Need some help!" Jack shouted across his field.
"You selling these?" The man shouted back.
"What?" Jack cried.
"I SAID, ARE YOU SELLING THESE?"
"WHY? YOU WANNA BUY THEM?"
"WHY ARE WE SHOUTING AT EACH OTHER? I CAN HARDLY HEAR YOU!"
"WHAT? HOLD ON! I CAN'T HEAR YOU!" Jack ran across the small section of field and caught up with him. "Sorry about that. What did you say?"
"I asked if you're selling these." He pointed to the cooler, which held about two cases worth of Gatorade and Cokes. Jack looked at them. "Not unless you really want them."
"You don't have anything to sell?" He asked.
"Why?"
"I'm Zack. I buy all the products that Flowerbud has to sell. I figured since you were running the farm now, you might have something you wanted to sell. That's what this is for."
"That?" Jack looked at his cooler. "I thought that was for drinks."
Zack gave a bellowing laugh. "No, this is for your produce. If you have anything you want to sell me, like something you grow in your fields, you just throw it in here and I come check it everyday at about five-except for holidays. I'll just drop the cash off in the slot on your door if you're not here."
"Sounds good. I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."
"Sure."
A thought struck Jack just then. He said, "Hey, Zack. What do you guys do for fun here?" Zack nodded as he mulled the question in his mind. "Well, usually the festivals are the best fun we have."
Jack pulled the calendar out for the spring that he'd yanked off the billboard in the Twon Square that morning. He looked at the marked days. "Jeez, there's almost twenty festivals here! What the heck is a 'Harvest Festival'?"
"Oh, that's the first Festival after the new year. You just missed the New Years Day Festival. Man, we got a Festival for everything here. Any excuse for the town to get together and have a blast! The Harvest Festival is where we all get together and have a dance in the Square. Festivals are always in the Square. Anyway, the girls all get dressed to pay homage to the Goddess for a plentiful harvest."
"What about at night? Don't tell me everyone just goes to bed."
Zack shrugged. "Some people. The guys usually go down to the Inn and have a few drinks. You know, unwind after a hard day's work."
Jack smiled, "Sounds good to me. Thanks, Zack."
"No problem, buddy." Zack headed back for town. Jack gave him a troubling stare. Another cheerful person? What was with this town? Was everyone all chipper and upbeat? Shaking his head, he decided to turn in for the day. He threw his farming utensil into the toolbox next to the barn and went inside. He'd go down to the Inn to see what he could see. Bars were never his favorite hangout. For some reason, when he went to a bar, he always got in a fight with someone he didn't want to fight.
As he showered, letting the hard day's work rinse off him with the grime and sweat, he began thinking about these villagers. He had never thought much of people who were friendly and kind all of the time; he figured they must be disingenuous or something. He figured nobody had a reason to be happy without due reason. Yet here he was passing kind person after kind person. This village couldn't be so perfect that no one got into fights or got mad at each other. Could it?
He threw on clean overalls and a shirt and headed down for the Inn. Night was already falling and by the time he arrived the street lights were lighting his way. He glanced in the window as he passed and noted almost half the village present. All of the men. The only female present was Ann, who was slinging drinks at the bar and grabbing the occasional plate of food. Greg would occasionally emerge from the smoky kitchen with a plate and set i on the counter for her to pick up.
He reached the door and went to push on it. He could hear the loud clamor of the bar inside and came to a stop when he heard his name. He paused and pushed the door open just a little bit so he could listen.
"What was that?" He heard a thin, nasal voice asked.
"I said 'Jack'." He heard the voice of Doug. "His name is Jack. Just like his grandfather. He's running the Valentine Farm now."
"I heard he calls it the Old Time Farm, but I tell you that will never be anything but the Valentine Farm to me." Said someone else, whom he didn't' recognize.
"So why have we never heard of him before?" Another voice asked. "How do we even know this guy really is Jack's grandson? I mean, we hardly ever saw Jack's own kids, let alone his grandkids."
"I don't think someone would really go to the trouble of impersonating Jack just for his farm." Greg said, "Besides, he's got a good heart. I talked to him today and he asked for a list of things he needs to start a farm."
"What he's got is money." Jack heard Duke say. "I heard from Jeff's wife that he bought everything you put on that list of his and nearly half the grocery store. Came to about three thousand and he had it all on him. Now who do you know does that?"
"You!" A half-dozen voices nearly cried. The bar dissolved into loud voices and laughter. Jack pushed his way in and like a bad western movie, all the activity in the Inn came to a halt as every patron turned to see who had walked in the door. There was a moment of silence before Doug said, "Jack! Come in, come in!"
"Think I'll do that." Jack said, marching up to a table. He now saw just who was in the Inn now that he was able to get a better look. Some he recognized: Duke, Gray, the Mayor's son, whom he had seen walking his rounds during the day. A few others he couldn't identify. Most sat at a table with one or two others; a few sat at a table by themselves. Jack too a table near Gray and sat in it, the propped his feet up on another chair.
"What's good around here?" He asked.
"Ann's Apple Cider." Doug said, "I'll fix you one. On the house."
"Apple cider?" Jack asked, dubious. "Is that all?"
"Obviously, you've never tried Ann's Apple Cider." Duke said. "Only thing better than my wine, son. In fact, give the whole house a round, Greg." Duke got up from his seat and moved around to sit across from Jack at his own table. Doug set their Apple Ciders in front of them and then to the rest of the patrons. "So your Jack's grandson, I hear?"
"That's right. Names Jack. Isn't that convenient?"
"Uh-huh. So tell us, Jack, what're you doing here in Flowerbud?"
"Living my life." Duke and the others sat in silence, waiting, Jack shrugged. "And that's it."
"You came here just to live your life?"
"Hey, Grandpa died and I hardly knew the guy. He left me the farm in his will so I figured I'd do him right and take care of it like he wanted."
"He died three years ago." Duke said, scratching his head, "I think so. Why'd you wait so long to move in?"
Jack was silent for a moment. "I had a job. I had a lot of loose ends to tie up. I had some monkies I had to get off my back first. I couldn't just do it overnight, I needed a little time."
Duke raised an eyebrow. "Three years?"
"Okay, so I needed a lot of time. But now I'm here and I don't plan on leaving. So get used to me. I'm going to be here for the rest of my life."
"Do tell." Duke stood up and raised his glass. "Well, who am I to look down on a man. A toast! To old Jack! May he rest well knowing his grandson is taking care of his farm."
"To Jack!" Everyone raised their glasses and took a swig of their Cider. Jack took one swig and erupted into a fit of coughing, spitting out a mouthful of cider. The Inn itself also erupted, but into a gales of laughter. Duke came over and smacked Jack on the back. "Don't worry, kid. You'll get used to it."
Jack was so busy coughing, he didn't even hear Duke.
Kevin Harris was busy eating dinner with his wife, Chloe, when a sharp knock came to the door. He and his wife looked at each other. They weren't expecting company. Kevin got up and walked to the door and peered through the eyehole. A tall man in a suit and a dark brown duster stood on his porch. He opened the door, but left the chain hooked to it. "Mr. Harris?"
"Yes. Can I help you?"
"Possibly. My name is Jim Black and I'm with the IRS." He held up a badge. Derek unlocked the door and opened it fully. "What's this about?"
"It's about your son, Mr. Harris. I'm afraid he's in some trouble concerning his taxes and we're unable to find him."
"His taxes? Goodness, that's not a good thing." He said. "Well, I hope you can find him."
"You don't know where he is?"
Kevin smiled. "Listen, I know you guys think you're pretty smart, but the truth is that Jack didn't get his brains from box of cereal, he got them from me." Kevin put his hands on his hips and straightened his back, looking as tall as he could.
Jim Black narrowed his eyes. "Mr. Harris, we're not trying to get you in trouble, but if going down to the police station is what it takes to-."
"Nice try, fella, but you're not fooling anyone. Jack's gone. Gone. That's all you need to know. I might know where he is. I might not. But either way, you won't find out. And I know for a fact there's nothing wrong with his taxes, he's paid them up in full and there's nothing left that he owes to the government, so that tells me one thing: you're a fraud. You're another private investigator trying to find Jack." He jabbed his finger into Jim's chest. "So don't go throwing empty threats at me, pal. I'm a Marine and if you go looking for trouble, I'll hand you your sorry ass on a silver platter. Now get off my property before I have you arrested for trespassing. I'm sure impersonating a government worker will look real good on your resume."
James Black merely inclined his head and turned and left. He heard the door slam behind him. Well, that went spectacularly bad. It was becoming more and more apparent that Mr. Ace Valentine had covered his tracks very, very well. The IRS bit was a good lure that usually worked, but not this time. His badge and ID were convincing enough to pass a casual inspection, but cop trouble was something he didn't need.
James was beginning to wonder what it was going to take to find Jack Harris. He had vanished off the face of the planet and there was no way he was going to give up; not for the kind of money Mr. St. Claire was giving him. And upon finding Jack, St. Claire had promised a big reward. So he intended to find Jack Harris.
But, perhaps he wouldn't find him TOO quickly.
The week breezed by for Jack. He wasn't able to sell anything, but Zack religiously came every day at five like he promised. Jack spent most of his days toiling in the fields. The strain was hard. Jack was used to spending four or five hours in a gym and the busting his butt in the ring, but farm work was different. He cleared the field of weeds and made a pile of it where he also took the small logs and branches littering the field.
The stumps proved more of a challenge. He was stuck on one for almost a half day before he decided he needed a new tactic. The boulders...well, he wasn't exactly sure HOW they got there but there they were.
On Friday, he got a little bit of information that he wanted to know.
"Chickens?" Zack asked.
"Chickens. Where can I get one?" Jack asked.
Zack pointed his finger to the farm next door. "Ask Rick. He runs the Poultry Farm."
"About time I met my neighbors anyway." Jack told himself as he walked down the pathway to the Poultry Farm. He arrived as the quaint farm and was admiring the house, the barn, the chicken yard, and the whole yard in general when a loud yell caught his attention. "I HATE YOU!" Someone screamed.
He paused at the entrance to the farm and watched as the girl with pink hair dashed past down the path in the opposite direction from him. He heard loud sobbing as she left. Jack entered the farm, occasionally glancing in the direction she had run. He caught up with a young fellow about his own age wearing a green shirt and a pair of thin-rimmed glasses. He had short, dirty blond hair and a concerned look on his face. He spied Jack and sighed, "You saw that, didn't you?"
"Kind of hard to miss." Jack said.
"That was Popuri, my sister. She got emotional on me because a stray dog killed one of her chickens. But she shouldn't have left it loose last night." Rick said, waving his finger like a small sword.
"I'll see if I can keep an eye out for any stray dogs. Look, I'm here for a chicken."
"Oh." Rick said, "You must be the new Jack. Popuri told me about. I haven't met you yet. I'm Rick. Popuri and I run the Poultry Farm."
"Just you two?" Jack asked.
"Well," Rick cast his eyes down. "Our mom and dad used to run it, but...mom got sick. And dad's gone all year long looking for treatment for her."
"What is it?" Jack asked.
"We don't know. Mom refuses to leave and find medical attention because she's afraid of the Thorn Curse."
"Thorn Curse?"
"Thorn is our last name. The Curse is all too real, though. Anyone from our family who's ever left the village has died of mysterious reasons. She said it's because we Thorns were never meant to leave Mineral Town."
"Mineral Town?"
"Yeah, that what we used to call the village until your grandfather died. When that happened, people started getting this thing with flowers. The women planted them under the windows, down the streets, in the square. When Old Jack died...Mineral Town died with him. We decided to call the town Flowerbud and here we are."
"Oh." Was all Jack could say. "What about your sister? Is she gonna be alright?"
"I guess so. She's probably at the hot spring behind your property, crying. She gets real emotional sometimes. But where are my manners. I'll go get your chicken."
"Do you have any young ones?" Jack asked, following Rick into the chicken yard. He pointed to a small yellow chick. "What about that one?"
"Him? Sure."
"How much?" Jack asked.
"Fifty. But you'll also need chicken feed."
"Alright, gimmie some feed and I'll haul it home." Jack paid Rick and within moments he was hauling a ton of chicken feed in his knapsack and a small chicken in his arms. He decided that his chicken, like Frodo, needed a name. "So what shall we call you?"
The little chick chirped at him.
"How does Sam sound? We'll keep going with this Lord of the Rings stuff. I'll get you some more chickens after a while. How does that sound?"
"Chirp!" It squeaked.
Jack smiled. "I knew you'd like it." He brought Sam into his chicken coop and let him down, then dumped the feed into the bin. He sprinkled some out just so Sam would be fed fine. 'See you tomorrow, Mr Samwise.."
Jack closed the door and looked at the rise above his property. From here, he could make out a flash of pink through the trees. Since the chicken coop was so close to the end of his property, he decided to take a stroll over his bridge and see what he could see. The land went upwards, since his farm lay at the base of a small mountain. More like a large hill, in terms of geography. It might take him an hour to reach the top, if not sooner.
The path branched just into the trees. One way went up the mountain, the other went towards town. And there were some steps leading a tall slope. He took the steps and found Popuri sitting on a stump near a small river. There was a water fall area and the river than ran down past his property and a small wading area. Off to the side, he noticed a pool with a fence around it and steam rising from the surface. The hot springs, no doubt.
He approached and said, "Hey."
"GAAAH!" Popuri shrieked and fell backwards. Jack shot forward and caught her by the shoulders. He steadied her. "Careful. Next time I might not be here to catch you."
"You scared me!" She cried, "That wasn't very nice!"
"Well, it's not like I planned it. I could have wanted to scare you a lot worse than that. BARGH!" He jumped again, shouting suddenly. Popuri shrieked, but didn't fall over the stump. "Stop that!" She cried. "I don't feel like being scared. A stray dog killed Mr. Feathers."
"Rick told me." Jack said. "I'm sorry."
Popuri sniffled. "He was my favorite chicken. I meant to lock him up last night, but I got so busy I just forgot." She looked up at him. "You're the new Jack, aren't you?"
Jack held his hands out wide. "I can't lie. It's me."
"I'm Popuri." She said with a sudden sweetness that had been absent a second before. She stood to her feet and shook his hand. "Nice to meet you finally. I've seen you in the field all week long. I was wondering when you'd get up and pay your neighbors a visit."
"Well, I needed to buy a chicken." He said. "So, are you going to be okay?"
"I'll be alright." She said, sighing, "But I will miss Mr. Feathers. It's getting a little late. I can't be gone from the farm too long. Thank you for coming up here to check on me, I appreciate it." That wasn't why he had gone up there. He'd...well, truth be told he didn't really know why he went up there but he felt compelled nonetheless. If she wanted to think that, who was he to tell her otherwise?
"Will we see you on Sunday?" Popuri asked, talking faster than he could reply.
"What's Sunday?" Jack asked.
"The Harvest Festival, silly. You do know about that Harvest Festival, don't you?"
"I heard about it, but-."
"Great!' She jumped in. "We'll see you there, then. Who's your dance partner?"
"Well, no one really-."
"No one? We can't have that, no sir!" She said, crossing her arms. "It's bad luck and it breaks tradition. But don't worry. I haven't found a partner yet, so as your new neighbor I'm obligated to let you ask me to the Festival to be my dance partner."
"I-."
"Fantastic! I'll see you on Sunday! Pick me up from the farm at about nine- thirty and don't be late! Oh, and dress in something nice, it's a little bit of a formal thing but make sure it's something comfortable you can dance in. Oh, and bring your appetite! My mom cooks the best peach cobbler in the world, okay Jack? Bye!" She waved good-bye and disappeared down the steps, vanishing before Jack could utter a word.
After a long moment, Jack said, "What just happened? How did I get myself invited to a dance without saying anything?" He tucked his hands into his pocket and walked off. Oh well. He guessed he'd find out on Sunday.