The Russians decided that since they were many hours early for their departure time that evening from the
Academy field, and since they did not favor sitting around in the grass waiting, they would spend a little shopping time in Denver.
They had parked their vehicles near the capital for there was much space there, and its dome could be seen from all around as a landmark and gotten back to easily. They had scattered out, each on his own errands.
Bittie had been given a special guard, a strong, tough Russian who was a special friend of Bittie's named Dmitri Tomlov, and Dmitri had been charged by Colonel Ivan to stay close to Bittie and not be careless and to carry his assault rifle and magazine pouch wherever he went. So it seemed all right.
Bittie and his guardian had found a little jewelry and trinket shop that had been opened by an old Swiss couple and their son. The old Swiss had found and repaired an engraving machine; he was also clever with repairing items found in ancient wrecked stores– where and when they had been overlooked by metal-hungry Psychlos.
The son was in a back room of the shop recovering from trying to defend the store from being robbed by the Brigantes-it seemed the Brigantes would go around telling everyone they were “police” and they carried clubs and would pick up anything that took their fancy and put it in their pockets. The Council, when approached by the few people now in Denver, had admitted that yes, the Brigantes were “police,” and that law and order was vital and that it was a felony to resist “police.” Nobody really knew what “police” meant as a word, but they had come to realize it was something very bad. So the old Swiss had decided to move away and a lot of his items were for sale at very low prices.
The wife was waiting on Dmitri. He had lots of relatives. But his first purchase was a little silver-headed riding crop for Bittie. Although Bittie would have been aghast at the idea of hitting a horse, the crop looked very nice. It was about two feet long, about the length of a Brigante bow although no one noticed this at the time.
Despite all these very low prices, Bittie was having a rough time. He wanted something special for Pattie. He thought he would be seeing her shortly. He looked and looked, helped by the old man. Also Bittie did not have very much money with him: his pay was only two credits a week whereas a soldier's was a credit a day. Pay had not been going on very long so Bittie only had four credits and the better items were as much as ten. Bittie's problems were also complicated by the limited command of English on the part of the Swiss people, who spoke a combination of German and French. The Russian was no help– he had practically no English and nobody spoke Russian there, including Bittie. But they were making out with signs and count marks on scraps of wrapping paper and raised eyebrows and pointing fingers.
At last Bittie found it! It was a real gold-plated locket in the shape of a heart. It had a red rose, still bright red, inset on it. It opened and you could put pictures inside and it had had its hinge nicely repaired and it had a thin chain. Also it had enough space on the back to engrave something, and yes, the old Swiss would be happy to engrave it. With one credit for the engraving, it all came to six credits. It was the very thing. But six credits! He only had four.
Well, the old Swiss was selling out, and when he saw the disappointment on Bittie's face, he relented and let him have it, with a box thrown in, all engraved, repolished and ready to go.
When given a card to put the message on so it could be copied, Bittie fell into more difficulty. What was he going to put on the back of the locket? Jonnie and others had told him that he and Pattie were far too young to get married and that was true. So he couldn't put “To my future wife” really, for people might smile and this was no smiling matter. He didn't want to simply put “To Pattie Love Bittie" as the old Swiss seemed to be suggesting. The Russian was no help at all. Then he had it! “To Pattie my ladye faire, Bittie.” The old Swiss then said that was too long to fit on the back. So he had to come back, after all, to “To Pattie, my future wife.” The old Swiss counted that up and said he could fit that in. It wasn't too satisfactory and people might laugh, but he couldn't do any better and the old Swiss set up his engraving machine and had at it.
All this was taking time and Bittie was getting edgy. He might miss the Russians, and after all Jonnie's horses were his job as squire and that's why he had come over to America. He hopped from one foot to the other and pushed at them all to hurry. The Swiss finally finished and put the locket in a nice box and wrapped it in some old paper, and the Russian finally got all the things he wanted and they paid it all up and went rushing out to get back to the trucks.
It was a cold day. There had been a frost and dead leaves were blowing about. A storm was rumbling over the mountains. It all seemed to tell Bittie to hurry.
But when they got back to the trucks, the position of the sun, seen through
scudding cloud, said it was only noon. There were no Russians returned.
The guard got into the driver's seat of their cab and began to sort out the presents he had bought. Bittie, almost engulfed by the huge Psychlo passenger seat, closed the window against the chill wind and dead flying leaves and sat there impatiently twiddling his new riding crop and looking out the window, his eyes just above the level of the bottom, keeping watch for the rest of the Russians.
From where he sat he could see a side entrance to the capital building. There was a big executive ground car sitting there with blacked-out windows.
Suddenly he saw Sir Jonnie! There he was, dressed as usual in buckskin, unmistakable. He walked out of the side entrance of the capital. The door of the executive ground car was swung open from inside and Jonnie got into it.
Bittie scrambled to get down the window and shout. He got it open partway. He couldn't get it all the way down.
Then somebody else came out of the capital, somebody dressed like a cadet. A plaster cast around his neck. This second person stopped and called back into the capital stairway where somebody must have asked a question.
The man in cadet clothes yelled back, “He's just going down to the compound first to pick up his horses.” Then he too got into the ground car and it started up.
Bittie was wild! He hadn't been able to get the window down and call to Sir Jonnie. Get the horses! That was why he was here, what he'd come all the way to America to do!
He tried to get his guard to just start up the truck and follow. But Bittie's command of Russian was not up to it. Gestures and motions and repeating the sense of what he was saying got no place. This Russian was not about to go after that executive ground car. He was here to wait for the rest of the contingent.
But Bittie got him out of the cab and they went sprinting around looking for the rest of the Russians. Minutes went by and they couldn't find them. This ruined city was too big, too spread out, too filled with rubble.
Suddenly they spotted one Russian. He was walking along the edge of a park by himself, eating some nuts he had bought. He was a man named Amir, and he had no reputation for being quick in the wits, although he was a nice fellow.
Bittie reeled off the situation to him, using gestures and a Russian word he did know, "Skahryehyee!" meaning “Hurry up!” and trying to get the man to understand he was to find the others and tell them to come along right away.