"I guess I could use a ride," you say a little hesitantly.

"Wonderful, friend," the man says. "Jump right up here. Name's Menno."

Menno the Mennonite? You almost say, but instead you give what you hope is a grateful smile and climb into the front of the buggy. He makes a "hyah" noise and flicks the reigns, and you're off.

Menno isn't the chatty type. After a few minutes of nothing but tedious clip-clop noises, you ask, "So, whats the name of the town we're heading to?"

Menno considers your question at length before responding, "That would be the town of Quickbeam." You've never heard of it. He doesn't elaborate.

Some time goes by, or at least you hope time is passing because there's no outside indication that it is. The rhythmic clip-clops and unchanging scenery might put you to sleep. You try to talk to Menno again.

"So, how long have you lived in Quickbeam?"

Menno gives you a side-eye. "No, friend, I don't live there. Just passing through to sell some produce from the early harvest."

"Oh," you say. "But you think someone there would let me use a phone?"

Menno doesn't move his eyes from the road. "The folk of Quickbeam are quite amiable. They treat the care of their guests as a most solemn duty."

That's not really an answer, but it doesn't sound bad either. You decide that's probably all you're going to get out of Menno. After a little while, there's a break in treeline, a stark divide between the woods and a field coming up on your left. You can see that the woods are deep, going on for miles. The field is an abrupt adjustment in scenery. It looks like some kind of crop is grown in it, but whatever it is has been gathered up already. You spot a barn way out on the property, but no people. Directly in front of you is a farmhouse with a goat in the yard, lethargically chewing. The road ahead runs past the farmhouse and curves up a small hill to the right. You can see houses lining either side of the road, and spreading out from there.

As Menno's horse starts up the hill you hear a rustle and "cawah" sound directly in your ear. You jump and turn in time to see what looks like a gigantic crow take off from the top of the buggy behind your head. Menno chuckles, but doesn't say anything.

The sun is just starting to think about going down by the time you reach Quickbeam. Menno pulls up to an inn that, you are amazed to see, still has a horse-hitch. You hop down as Menno ties the horse's reign to the post.

"Well friend," he says, "the day's near over. I have a room here for the night, but need to unload my wares first. I'll be across the way at the grocer. You'll likely find Red Maggie at the desk." He looks a little apologetic at that, but lifts his hat at you and starts across the street, laying a hand on his horse's nose on the way.

You take a look at the inn- two stories of cornflower blue clap-board with a gray roof and gray shutters. Its longer than it is tall, with the horse hitch under an exposed garage of sorts. A sign in the front reads "Red Berry Inn." Maybe that's why Menno called the owner "Red Maggie?" Although the look on his face implied that his estimation of the town's hospitality may not extend to her. Especially, you realize, because you don't have any money for a room. You remind yourself that you don't need a room, you need a phone, and there's only one way to find out what Red Maggie's deal is.