Joan quickly ran into the house and the shapely farmers daughter hid her. As they heard a car pulling up out front, the old farmer moved back to the doorway.
"What do you want?" He asked sourly, as a car door opened and then closed. Joan heard the farmer cocking his shotgun once more, the cop's voice wavered a little as he spoke.
"Now Garrit there aint no need for that."
"This is my place... so say your piece and git Herb!" The old farmer shouted.
"Alright...alright Garrit." Herb the sheriff called. "Theres a girl loose around here, a city kid thats real dangerous. If you see her call me or guide her towards town." "We'll handle her."
"I aint seen nobody, and wouldn't tell you if I did!" Garrit the farmer snarled. "I aint got no truck with you folk...I keep to my own business you do the same!" Inside Joan breathed a sigh of relief when she heard the old man lying for her.
"You just remember your still here because we allow it old man!" Herb the Sheriff snapped getting back in his car and driving off.
"Good riddens." Garrit spat as he watched the car drive off. "Alright girl...you can come out now." He called as he stepped inside and closed the door. Climbing out of her hiding place under the stairway, and stood up. "Well yer and odd lookin' sort that fer sure." The old man said as he looked the pierced and tattooed teenager over shrudly. Joan wasn't sure how much she liked that old man's words, but she was grateful to him so didn't retort. "Well it gettin' on about that time, get on in the kitchen...ya can supper with us." Joan followed the old farmer, and his daughter into the kitchen. As they sat down at the table, the back door opened. And a young farm boy about Joan's own age walked in, and sat down at the table with them. "Ya finish yer chores boy?" Old Garrit demanded.
"Ya papa."
"Well good...thought ya was goin' to be later fer supper again!" The old man groused. Turning quickly Garrit glared at Joan with his beady black eye's. "So whats yer story?"
"M..my family and I were just passing throught, we had a break down when this freak giant Zeke guy showed up."
"Drivin' a wreaker truck?" Old Garrit asked, Joan nodded and went on. "He took my mom and sister into town, and gave dad and me hotdogs to eat."
Old Garrit looked him over. "And ya ate yours." He asked appraizingly.
"Errr..." Joan grunted unsure she wanted to admit the truth. The old man chackled as if at some private joke.
"Well no helpin' any of them...Town's gott'em good!"
"Wha...what do you mean?" The old man stared at her for a long moment.
"Well thats after supper talk... now lets eat." He grunted as his daughter piled the food on the table. The son starring at Joan as they passed around the food.