I was offended. In all my time here, even a crow had managed to judge me. I opened my mouth to retort, but Frank cut in:
"Don’t get me wrong—in a way, I get it. I lost my wife early on, raised my boy alone. Kids, as you know, are restless little beasts. Glenn still pulls stunts. Loves attention, no denying that. But that’s life, so he works with me."
"I’m sorry about your wife," I sighed. "Must’ve been hard, losing her like that, especially with a child to raise."
"Huh?" Frank looked confused. "Oh! Nah, you got it wrong. She’s alive and well—just ran off with that dung beetle, Vance."
"Ah," I finally understood. "And who’s Vance?"
"Local farmer," Selena chimed in, the kid beside her. "His ranch feeds half the county. Land’s crazy fertile."
"Scoundrels like Vance always have the best soil," Glenn added. "You should drop by, get acquainted."
"No way!" the kid snapped. "Quit messing with us."
"What’s the problem?" I asked.
"Vance is the local boogeyman," Selena explained.
"Oh, come on," Glenn scoffed, spitting out his toothpick. "He’s alright. Just… moody sometimes. Normal stuff."
"Rumor is he’s got an entire weapons cache buried on his ranch," the kid whispered conspiratorially.
"That’s just gossip from bored locals," Glenn countered. "They’ve said all kinds of things about us too. That we’re smugglers, secret millionaires—hell, even mechanics."
"Even mechanics?" I repeated, tensing up.
"Glenn's joking," Frank tried to reassure me. "What he means is that locals here love making up tall tales. Anyone who achieves even a little something suddenly gets wrapped in legends."
"And if this 'achiever' happens to be an outsider? Lights out. They'll be branded a 'stranger' forever," the kid nodded in agreement.
"I thought locals would have enough problems of their own," I replied, processing this information.
"They've grown tired of their routine troubles," Frank chuckled. "So they crave fresh 'meat' for gossip."
"Same old story everywhere," the kid muttered. "Let's go. We've settled the repair terms."
"We'll be nearby, in the trailer," Selena told the mechanics. "Let us know when it's ready."
"Three days, not sooner," Glenn repeated.
"Which means at least five," I grumbled, resigning myself to Glenn being quite the storyteller.
As we drove away from the station, Selena remarked, "Glenn's not a bad guy, really."
"I don't like him," Oscar said bluntly. "Did you notice how he's always hiding his shameless eyes behind those sunglasses?"
"It's just really sunny right now," Selena tried defending him.
"Yeah, right," the kid stared out the window. "Lies as easily as he breathes."
* * *
For three days, we stayed in Selena's trailer. As an exception, we drove to nearby grocery stores for supplies, and I finally managed to wash up in a questionable roadside motel. Still, even these conditions felt like a blessing at this point. I couldn't recall exactly how far we were from Oscar's place, but judging by the landscape, it was quite a distance. Naturally, I spent every minute cursing Kurt, mentally picturing strangling him with the shoelace that bound Selena's stack of letters.
"Relax," Selena chattered nonstop, steering toward the repair shop while sharing cheese puffs with Oscar.
I had no appetite. All I wanted was to find out if the bike was ready.
"Who stockpiles weapons on a ranch in bulk?"
