"Best ranch in E City? Not sure I'd go that far. But I know one with just about every kind of livestock." Mr. Carter hesitated, as though there was more to say.
"Carter, you mean that place?" Someone already knew where he was going with this.
Emma waited. No need to interrupt.
"Eastern outskirts. Famous place. Get out there and ask anyone. They'll know it. But the animals aren't cheap."
"Thanks." The money didn't worry her. She'd see for herself. If they were worth the price, she'd buy them.
She searched for ranches east of town. Sure enough, her navigation app found one.
More than an hour's drive in the box truck. Before she even reached the ranch, its billboard appeared beside the highway. RAISED WITH CARE. FOOD YOU CAN TRUST.
A dairy cow's head flashed on the sign, fresh green grass sticking from its mouth.
She took the exit, parked, and stepped out, shutting the truck door. More than one ranch around here, apparently. Livestock sellers lined both sides of the road.
Chickens, ducks, geese. Cats and dogs, too. Farther down came the bigger animals: cattle, sheep, pigs. She paused to look as she passed the stalls.
A little listless. Not what she was looking for.
She wanted animals with some life in them. These seemed fine, but nothing made her want to buy.
Two people later, she knew which ranch owned the billboard and where to find it. She got back in the truck and drove over.
She parked and climbed out. Wire fencing ran around two adjoining hills. It took ten-odd minutes of walking along the fence to find the gate.
"Hi. I'd like to buy cattle." The woman she approached wore work clothes and rubber gloves dotted with brown grain.
"Come on in. The owner's over here." The woman called her over and led the way to the right. Emma followed.
Not a huge ranch, though it did take up two hills. The animals had separate enclosures, and the slopes were thick with healthy pasture grass.
Prices were posted on the wall of a small two-story building. She scanned the list. Definitely expensive. Several hundred dollars above the prices she'd just seen down the road.
The livestock looked healthy, though. She wasn't a vet. What would she do if she bought sick animals and couldn't keep them alive?
The employee went inside to fetch the owner. Emma had just finished reading the prices when the woman came out.
"Hi. What should I call you?" Emma hadn't expected the owner to be so young. A woman in her thirties.
"Bennett."
"Bulls or cows, Ms. Bennett? We can talk while I show you around." The owner had never had a customer this young. She looked like a teenager.
"I've had a look on the way in. The prices are fine. I just need them in a hurry..." Fifty chickens, fifty ducks, fifty geese.
Twenty dairy cows. Five bulls. Thirty other head of cattle.
Fifty pigs, ten boars, and a hundred sheep. Their wool would be precious when the extreme cold came.
She left a deposit, said she'd collect the animals tomorrow, and drove off.
The sun had gone down. She pulled over and took dinner out of her space: barbecue pulled pork, baked eggplant with ground beef, glazed pork ribs, and meatball soup. All from the diner.
Once she'd eaten, she started the truck and brought up the route she'd marked last night. Out toward the edge of town.
A village near the mountains. A full two-hour drive before she reached it.
She left the truck and headed into the mountains on foot. Out of sight, she brought out her electric scooter and kept going. More than an hour farther in, she made sure no one was around. Then she pulled the hill in front of her into her space.
She went deeper, drawing hills into her space until she had taken five in all. Only then did she stop. Her body felt spent, her mental strength badly depleted. She lay on the ground and let her awareness sink into the space, drawing back the thread of mental power holding the seawater apart.
Five mountains around a center of blue seawater. Using her mental power, she moved the crabs, shrimp, and fish from the lower level into the water, then scattered seagrass seeds across the bottom.
Pinpricks of green light rose from her fingertips. The seagrass drank them in and began to grow.
She checked her phone. 9:36. A bottle of purified water, a stretch, and she felt a little looser. She needed to get home.
No retracing her steps. She cut through the woods to a paved country road, took out her scooter, and rode flat out to the truck. Scooter back in the space. Time to drive home.
Finding the route had slowed her down on the way in. Now she knew it. She floored it, passing vehicles all the way back.
Truck parked outside the community, she rode the scooter in. Packages were piled in front of her villa, blocking the way inside.
She took a knife from her space and opened them all. Then she marked the orders as received and checked what was still on the way.