The farmer’s eyes had narrowed as I’d spoken, though the level of the firearm had lowered so that it was now aimed at the ground. I could only hope that was a good sign that meant he was at least considering my offer. “What is it you want to trade for this so-called vital information?”

“Dinner. We’ll take anything you can spare.”

“What else?” he demanded.

“Fresh water now and to take with us.”

“Hmm.”

Tuck interjected, “Sir, that’s all—”

“And a place to stay tonight.”

I heard Tuck let out a low hiss of air as though I’d gone a step too far, and I braced, waiting for the man to tell us to get lost.

“Dinner’d be whatever’s at risk of spoiling and needs to be eaten or thrown away. You can sleep in my barn, but I can’t allow you to stay in the house while my family’s sleeping. I’m sure you can understand.”

“That’s great. Yes, we accept. Thank you,” I said, the words flowing out on one long breath of relief. Oh my God. Dinner. A chair to sit in and a fork. I wanted to weep with gratitude.

I gave Tuck a giddy look over my shoulder and we followed the farmer as he led us through his front yard and into his house.

chapter thirty-one

Tuck

I had to hand it to Emily. She’d come through on the fly. Why hadn’t I considered bargaining with information? It was just about the only commodity we had, and she’d thought of it, and suggested the trade with a charming smile, even with a shotgun pointed squarely at her midsection. Once again, she deserved my respect and my gratitude. She’d earned it in this case because here we were, sitting in the comfortable living room of a farmhouse, the soft cushions of a couch beneath my ass. Damn, it felt good.

“My name’s Tom Pritchard and this is my wife, Jane,” the farmer said, extending his hand toward the woman who’d joined him on the couch across from where I sat. She was about the same age as Tom, fortyish I’d guess with long blond hair pulled back into a bun and kind blue eyes.

“Emily, right?” Tom asked, looking at Emily, who’d sat down in an easy chair to my left.

“Yes, Emily Swanson.”

“And Tuck?”

I nodded.

“Oh, forgive my manners. Can I offer you a glass of water?” Jane asked.

“That’d be great,” Emily said.

“Thanks,” I added as Jane stood and left the room.

“We’re from California,” I told Tom. “Our plane crashed in the wilderness in Illinois. Like Emily said, we eventually made it to a small town named Silver Creek n Missouri, and then walked or caught rides from there to here. We’ve mostly taken back roads, traveling during the day and camping at night.”