the mob and to stomp us and rob us if stomping and robbing became a test of courage or a test of loyalty to country, religion, or race.
On the other hand, making more of the right kinds of friends couldn’t hurt us. We’ve already made some that I trust—near neighbors, a couple of people in Prata, and a few more in Georgetown, the big squatter settlement outside Eureka. And the only way to make more good friends is to make more friends period.
Adela Ortiz spoke up in her quick, soft, little-girl voice. She’s only 16. “What if people think we’re cheating them?” she said. “People always think that. You know, like you’re trying to be nice to them and they just think everybody’s a liar and a thief but them.”
I was sitting near her, so I answered. “People will think whatever they like,” I said. “It’s our job to show by our behavior that we’re not thieves, and we’re not fools. We’ve got a good reputation so far. People know we don’t steal. They know better than to steal from us. And they know we’re neighborly. In emergencies, we help out. Our school is open to their kids for a little hard currency, and their kids are safe while they’re here.” I shrugged. “We’ve made a good start.”
“And you think this wholesaling business is the way for us to go?” Grayson Mora asked.
I looked over at him with surprise. He sometimes manages to get through a whole Gathering without saying anything. He isn’t shy at all, but he’s quiet. He and his wife were slaves before they met. Each had lost family members to the effects and neglects of slavery. Now between them they have two girls and two boys. They’re ferocious in guarding their children, and suspicious of anything new that might affect those children.
“I do,” I said. I paused, glanced up at Travis who stood at the big handsome oak podium that Allie had built. Then I continued. “I believe we can do it as long as the truck holds up. You’re our expert there, Travis. You’ve said the truck is in good shape, but can we afford to maintain it? What new, expensive part will it be needing soon?”
“By the time it needs anything expensive, we should be making more money,” he said. “As of now, even the tires are good, and that’s unusual.” He leaned over the podium, looking confident and serious. “We can do this,” he said. “We should start small, study the possibilities, and figure out how we should grow. If we do this right, we should be able to buy another truck in a year or two. We’re growing. We need to do this.”
Beside me, Bankole sighed. “If we’re not careful,” he said, “our size and success will make us the castle on the hill—everyone’s protector in this area. I don’t think that’s wise.”
I do think it’s wise, but I didn’t say so. Bankole still can’t see this place as anything more than a temporary stop on the way to a “real” home in a “real” town—that is, an already established town. I don’t know how long it will take for him to see that what we’re building here is as real and at least as important as anything he’s likely to find in a town that’s been around for a century or two.
I foresee a time when our settlement is not only “the castle on the hill,” but when most or all of our neighbors have joined us. Even if they don’t like every aspect of Earthseed, I hope they’ll like enough of it to recognize that they’re better off with us than without us. I want them as allies and as members, not just as “friends.” And as we absorb them, I also intend to either absorb some of the storekeeper, restaurant, or hotel clients that we’ll have—or I want us to open our own stores, restaurants, and hotels. I definitely want to begin Gathering Houses that are also schools in Eureka, Arcata, and some of the larger nearby towns. I want us to grow into the cities and towns in this natural, self-supporting way.
I don’t know whether we can do all this, but I think we have to try. I think this is what a real beginning for Earthseed looks like.
I don’t know how to do it. That scares me to death sometimes—always feeling driven to do something I don’t know how to do. But I’m learning as I go