Chapter 370: Chapter 370: About White Hair
The daily necessities had been brought back from W Country, and the farm workers could receive a share each quarter. Officer Graham and Evelyn Ford took out scissors and started giving haircuts to everyone in the courtyard. When Ronan Kendrick removed his hat, revealing a full head of silver hair, everyone froze for a moment.
Evelyn Ford cleared her throat and quickly explained, "Ronan was accidentally poisoned during a trip to Tarr City to trade for supplies. His hair turned white after that."
"No wonder Ronan has seemed a little out of it lately. So he was poisoned."
Quincy stared at Ronan Kendrick, sizing him up from head to toe. He just couldn’t believe Ronan could be accidentally poisoned. ’This guy is practically a force of nature, like Thanos,’ he thought. ’The chances of someone successfully poisoning him are slimmer than the chances of me turning into a woman.’
"Is there an antidote for the poison?" Taylor Vance asked with concern.
"Not right now."
"Poor Ronan, his hair turned white at such a young age. But I have to say, with his features, that white hair gives him the look of a comic book heartthrob."
The others were confused. "A what?"
"A handsome man who looks like he stepped right out of a comic book," Wyatt Vaughn explained while holding Zoe.
"Handsome man?" Quincy scoffed.
"He’s twenty-eight and you’re calling him a handsome man? ’Old-timer’ is more like it."
"You’re just jealous. If I’m not mistaken, you’re thirty-six this year, right? If Ronan is an old-timer, then you’re a mummy," Miles Vaughn retorted sharply. Seeing where this was going, Wyatt Vaughn and Joelle Finch quietly backed away.
"Miles Vaughn, don’t think I won’t deck you just because you’re my brother-in-law!"
"Go on then, take a swing!"
"I was talking about Ronan, and you had to stick your nose in it. You’re just asking for a punch in the face."
"Ronan’s hair turned white because he was poisoned. You should look at your own hair—it’s a mix of black and white. You look like a zebra."
"Fine, so I’m a zebra. That makes you a lapdog."
"You’re the dog! Your whole family are dogs!"
"That does it, Miles Vaughn! You cursed out my whole family, which means you cursed out your own sister! I’m gonna kill you!"
The two began bickering like a couple of elementary school kids. The rest of the group silently distanced themselves, as if to avoid being hit by the spittle flying between them.
Evelyn Ford couldn’t bear to watch another second. She took Ronan Kendrick by the hand and walked away.
"Those two should never have become in-laws. They fight every single time they talk, like they’re mortal enemies."
"They’ll be fine in half an hour," Ronan said quietly.
"You’re right. We’ll just ignore them. Let’s go back so I can trim your hair." Ronan’s hair had gotten a little long, and the bangs were starting to get in his eyes.
"And after the trim?"
Evelyn blinked. "General cleaning? Laundry? Or should we make dinner?"
"I’ve already mastered the technique you demonstrated last time. When are you going to test my progress?"
Evelyn’s face flushed bright red. "Kendrick, you’re such a pervert."
"It’s because I had such a good teacher. Come on, I’ll give you a demonstration right now." With that, he pulled Evelyn back to their cabin.
* * *
Ever since Ronan had taken off his hat and revealed his white hair, everyone on the farm—young and old, men and women—stared at him for a long time whenever they saw him. Ronan grew frustrated and decided he would dye his hair black.
"Either you tell them to stop staring at me, or you dye my hair back to black."
Evelyn stifled a laugh. "They only stare because they think you’re handsome. I mean, look at Quincy. Does anyone stare at him?"
Ronan frowned. "But I don’t like people staring at me."
’What could she do?’ Evelyn thought. ’Of course, she had to indulge his every whim.’
Just as she was about to dye it, however, Ronan got cold feet. "But... don’t you like my white hair? If it’s black again, will you still like me?"
’I swear, I want to hit him with a shovel.’
"So, are we dyeing it or not?"
The petulant Kendrick hesitated. "Let’s not dye it. I’ll just wear a hat."
In the end, Evelyn didn’t have the heart to actually hit him. She did, however, punish him by sending him to the space to clean the livestock area.
The next day, Quincy and Miles Vaughn carried the mini-tiller into the greenhouse. They planned to plant wheat this year, and Evelyn had already selected the seeds. Everyone headed to the greenhouse to help. By three in the afternoon, they had finished planting the half-acre plot.
Over the next few days, they also planted the sweet potato and cassava cuttings.
Evelyn made a trip to Fairgate. The wild boars and crows there had been dealt with. The survivors were no fools; no matter how hungry they were, they didn’t dare eat the boar meat. To prevent the spread of disease, they had dug a large pit and burned all the boar and crow carcasses.
The surviving refugees had divided the belongings of the dead among themselves. Some had even tilled a small vegetable patch in front of their stone houses, while others had built a chicken coop and come to the farm to trade for a few fertilized eggs.
The road out of Fairgate was still blocked. One of the refugees told Evelyn that a lot of other refugees had been passing through the borderlands recently. They went there to scavenge for supplies and managed to find a fair amount. The man didn’t hide this, knowing Evelyn wouldn’t bother competing with them over such scraps.
"The situation at the border is a real tragedy. There isn’t a single person left alive—just bodies everywhere. We didn’t find much, either. I only managed to grab two cleavers and some clothes and blankets, and they were all torn up. Still, we’re heading back there again tonight. Every little bit counts."
"Harvey Warren got lucky, though. He managed to find a three-wheeler that still runs. All the other vehicles were wrecked—their tires were torn to shreds by the wild boars."
"Have any cars been passing through?"
The refugee shook his head. "None. The road is covered in dead boars, and the smell is horrendous. It’s not an easy road to travel, and now that the temperature’s rising, the carcasses are rotting even faster."
"Did you take the mountain path? Are there any dead boars up there?"
"No. The boars and crows only seem to show up where people are gathered. It’s like the animals have gotten unnaturally clever."
Evelyn nodded. As she was about to leave, the refugee called out to her again. "Ma’am, there are only forty-seven of us left in Fairgate now. We need to set up defenses to stop other refugees from getting in. If we secure our side of things, would the farm be able to offer us some measure of protection?"
Evelyn remained silent, and the man continued, "There are fewer and fewer of us in Fairgate, and those who are left have been through a lot. If we work together to guard the checkpoint between the border and Fairgate, it would benefit both us and your farm."
Evelyn found herself admiring the man. He was articulate and logical. ’It’s no small feat to have survived this long,’ she thought.
"Alright. As long as you can hold that outer checkpoint, the farm will take care of any raiding refugees."
He was right—the checkpoint between Fairgate and the border was crucial. If anyone broke through, it would be bad for everybody.
"Thank you, Ma’am. And... can we still come to the farm to trade for supplies?"
"Yes."
With only forty-seven people left in Fairgate, having them stand guard on the perimeter in exchange for supplies from Evelyn was a win-win situation.
When she returned to the farm, Evelyn told everyone what had happened.
"I just checked things out over there," she explained. "The survivors in Fairgate are almost all able-bodied people between twenty and forty. Having them guard the checkpoint for us has no downsides, only benefits."
