Chapter 141: She Brought Her Own Trouble

Dove spent the next three travel days deciding what belonged in her shop and what her husbands were allowed to eat before she could sell it. Thorne considered an open bag of crackers a personal invitation. Edrik insisted he was helping reduce the weight. She made both men carry the empty wrappers to the trash themselves.

They followed the convoy in their pickup, stopping for cargo checks and road reports. At each halt, Dove asked what stood nearby and what had already been claimed. The men helped her search empty storefronts, dry storage closets, and one abandoned picnic supply van. They left ruined food and occupied rooms alone, taking sound tools, unopened toiletries, and enough sealed snacks that the crate finally needed another label.

She washed with pond water each morning behind a room screen or their new enclosure. They ate proper breakfasts before departure and hot dinners wherever the convoy settled. Being busy had stopped being an excuse to treat lunch like a mistake she might correct at bedtime.

Sprout changed the stock Dove could bring out each day. Compression socks on Day Seventy, cloth napkin sets on Seventy-One, and enamel camp mugs on Seventy-Two. She sold all four packs each day, trading with crews at the scheduled stops. Each sales goal paid thirty-six normal coins, exercise added three, and she stored more than the three new items required on the road.

The Favor targets cleared through conversations, her men’s affection, and the occasional amazed customer watching her settle a price. Sprout kept the days separate while Dove kept their new purchases packed.

Could Sprout tell her what the rental included? It had shop listings, not a view inside somebody else’s building. She would inspect the room before buying furniture for it. Edrik asked whether she’d be disappointed if the place was small. Dove looked at Edrik beside her and Thorne filling the rear seat.

"We may need to store one of you sideways." Thorne reached forward to squeeze her shoulder and said he’d manage.

The western base finally appeared beyond a line of guarded road barriers. It wasn’t a castle or a mysterious tunnel. It was a Michigan town, with traffic lights hanging over an intersection, shops behind sandbagged windows, and streets divided by new fences and checkpoints.

The outer D district spread beside the approach road in crowded tents, sheds, and patched buildings. Farther in, C used apartment blocks and public halls with working heat, shared kitchens, and people carrying ordinary groceries. Dove watched a man argue over a cart wheel while another handed a cub a piece of fruit. Life hadn’t vanished. It had become harder to arrange.

Their pickup followed the freight truck through B’s cargo gate after its registration and load were checked. Beyond it, she could see storefronts, a laundromat, and a restaurant with steam clouding the window. The driver had been right about this part. She still hadn’t seen A, where the noticeboard reportedly listed fourteen women, and she wasn’t letting a rumor choose her address.

The receiving clerk checked their reference and cargo. Weapons were declared and kept packed through inspection; nobody demanded Thorne or Edrik move somewhere else because Dove had arrived. She answered the questions herself, paid the listed temporary trading fee with agreed goods, and received permission to rent for two weeks while applying for longer.

"Two husbands?" the clerk asked, checking the names.

"Yes. I tried traveling light. It didn’t take."

Thorne smiled at her. Edrik looked at the clerk until the man remembered to stop staring at Dove’s mouth. The papers went through without a speech about how grateful she ought to be.

Their rental was on a side street behind the restaurant, inside B’s market block. A front window faced the sidewalk beside the shop door. Inside stood a long counter, shelves against both side walls, and a curtained doorway at the back. That led to a bedroom large enough for a wide bed and their folded cot, with a small washroom opening off its right side.

The tap ran when Dove turned it. She stared at the clear water, then asked whether it was treated for drinking. She wasn’t taking its appearance as an answer. For now, their bottles would do; the tap alone meant no more carrying wash buckets.

A rear door opened into a shared service yard, with enough space for Thorne to shift behind a screened corner. Their cart fitted beneath the back window. The landlord included a marked space for their pickup on the higher side of the yard, clear of the drains. They had paid for two weeks. They could leave earlier without getting their goods back, or ask to renew when the time ran out. Dove read it twice, then paid in bedding and household stock the landlord wanted.

When the man left, she sat on the bed and bounced once. It didn’t fold. It didn’t require packing tomorrow. Both men watched her with identical bad intentions until she pointed toward the shop.

"Shelves first. You can look at me like that after we find the pillows."

Thorne carried their linens inside. Edrik set the razor kit beside the washroom mirror, and Dove watched him leave it there. Such a small thing, claiming a place for something he used every morning. She followed and put her comb beside it.

They arranged the shop before dinner, keeping their own food behind the curtain and trade stock on the shelves. Dove opened the window, letting the smell of coffee drift toward the street, then set out useful things people could see without asking what she might produce tomorrow.

Her first customer bought a towel and a jar of coffee. He offered more if she would join him for supper. Dove told him she was eating with her husbands, and Thorne appeared with three bowls before the man could suggest that was negotiable.

"He can buy coffee tomorrow too," she murmured after the door closed. "If he behaves."

Edrik took the stool beside her. "He’ll remember."

They ate meat stew and crusty bread behind the counter, too pleased with the room to carry dinner any farther. Dove was wiping the last bowl when a man in a freight vest stopped outside the window. He stared past her at Edrik, color draining from his face.

"They told me you were dead," he said.

Edrik set down his cup. Dove had seen that stillness before, and her good evening tightened around it. "Who told you that?" her husband asked.