“No, but we’re looking into fostering one or two of the girls.” Another gray truth since it had been a passing thought. When the other woman said nothing, Jesse continued. “The leader of the terra indigene settlement at Prairie Gold has connections to two of the girls. One of the girls had a vision about cards.”

A crackling silence. “Gods,” the other woman breathed. “You’re looking for the Trailblazer deck?”

“I—” Jesse’s left wrist throbbed. “Maybe I am.” Now it was her turn to hesitate. “There’s really a deck of cards called that?”

“Not officially. Not yet. Yesterday I pulled a few decks of fortune-telling cards from our stock. I had a feeling that a new deck was needed, but I didn’t know what was needed.”

“Maybe you’re not the one who is supposed to decide. Maybe you’re the one who is supposed to produce a special deck of cards that will be used by the Trailblazer.” Jesse thought for a moment. “You could produce a deck of cards from new art?”

“Sure, but we don’t have new art.”

Not yet. “The decks you pulled yesterday. You must have been drawn to them for a reason. Can you send me two of each of those decks?”

“Yes, I could.” The woman’s voice softened. “Yes, I could.”

Jesse gave the woman the mailing information for Prairie Gold, thanked her, and hung up. Then she threaded her fingers in her hair and pulled hard enough to relieve some of the tension in her scalp.

Need to stock up, she thought as she studied the shelves in her store and tried to ignore the increasing ache in her left wrist. Canned goods, dried goods, anything in a jar that will last until...

“Until what?” The sound of her own voice startled her, made her stop and consider why her thoughts had jumped from fortune-telling cards to the certainty that she needed to hoard supplies, and she needed to do it now.

As she looked around her store, her gaze rested on the shelves that held the books. Couldn’t purchase books from the publishers anymore. Couldn’t buy books from the bookstore in Bennett. Some might argue that books were a luxury, not a necessity. She didn’t agree, but as a test for depriving an isolated community of merchandise? People would be unhappy about the loss of new books to read but not angry. At least, not at first. But what if things they considered more necessary suddenly couldn’t be purchased? Things like food and clothes and, gods, even something as basic as toilet paper?