"Whoa, Cagney, Lacey," she said as she pulled in the team, set the brake lever-they couldn't be expected to lean into the traces on an upslope for long-and waited until Dennis trotted back to her, his face alight.
"What is it?" she demanded.
"There are people there," he answered. Alarm rammed through her, but he went on: "I recognize a couple of them, though, seen them with you. Chuck Barstow-I'd know that silly hat he wears anywhere. And a couple of others; come see for yourself."
A surge of hope ran through her, shocking, like a cold electric jolt. There's no real refuge from what's happening with the world; and what refuge there is, is in other people. An added joy: And Rudy might be there.
He'd been leaving on a trip down to California, to San Jose and Silicon Valley; a surprising number of Wiccans were in software.
But maybe his flight didn't leave before the Change and he made it up here already!
"It's the Singing Moon," she said aloud; poor Sally would be bewildered. "Or at least some of them. They'd know the way; I should have expected it; Goddess, I halfway did, as much as I dared. Chuck or Judy would have thought of coming here, at least, and we were supposed to have a meeting, the night of the Change-I was to drive in. They had farther to come, but probably had to hide less on the way."
She flicked the reins and released the brake; another bit of steep climb, a turn to the left, and they broke into the open.
A long stretch of rolling upland meadow opened out to either side, new grass rippling green and thick-streaked with early blue camas and rose-pink sorrel, dotted with big white oaks; forest-shaggy hills dark with conifers rose steep to the north. Off in the distance to the right a small waterfall went in spray down a rock face, formed a pool surrounded by willows, then lazed across the open plateau in a series of curves before vanishing from sight.
"Those people are your, umm, coven?" Sally asked, as they rattled down the rough track towards the cabin.
Eight adults and more children were running towards them, waving and shouting; Eilir was hopping up and down as she greeted them, and Cuchulain doing his usual barking wiggle at the familiar scents. Juniper scanned their faces, easy to recognize despite the distance.
"They're most of it," she said. "Chuck, Judy, Diana, Andy, Susan, Dorothy, Karl and Dave-and their kids- but all those children in the green blazers? I don't recognize them! Nor the wagons they all rode in on!"
Parked in front where the laneway curved by the house and trailed off to the right were:
Juniper blinked. Now, that is a covered wagon, is it not? she thought.
And strapped to its sides was a variety of historic junk, including an old-fashioned walking plow. The coveners had just begun unloading bales and sacks and boxes from inside when she arrived. Another was beside it. Eight horses grazed under a tree, big glossy roan beasts, and a dozen cattle of various breeds and:
"Well, Lugh love me, it's a pig!" she said to herself. A big sow, to be exact, with some half-grown piglets near it.
The cabin stood on a U-shaped rise in the center of the plateau's northern side, separated from the wooded ridge behind by a gully. It was a long low structure of Douglas fir logs squared on top and bottom, all resting on a knee-high foundation of mortared fieldstone and topped by a steep shingled roof that covered a veranda around three sides. Smoke trickled from the big central stone chimney; there were sheds and a barn of similar construction, and a gnarled and decrepit orchard on the south-facing slope below.
"That's all yours?" Sally said; she sounded impressed.
Not unreasonably, since there were three thousand square feet on the ground floor, plus the attic loft where she'd set up her loom and had a space for private Craft working.
"It is mine, and a monster that's swallowed every penny I could earn in upkeep these last ten years," Juniper answered absently. "Great-uncle Earl built it to impress his cronies in Calvin Coolidge's time. And he may have been trying to bankrupt me with his will! At least I won't have to sell off the timber to pay the taxes and keep the roof tight anymore: "
She felt a huge grin break free as her coveners came closer, and she stood up on the seat of the wagon despite the lurching and jolting, holding to the curving roof with one hand.
"Welcome!" she shouted. "Oh, Cead mile failte! A hundred thousand welcomes!"
Hands reached up to catch her as she dove down from the seat; for a long ten minutes there was only hugging and babbling and shouts of glee.
When that died down enough, she looked around. There were Chuck and Judy Barstow, he a gardener for the city of Eugene, she a registered nurse and midwife; Diana and Andy, who ran a health food store and restaurant there: eight of them in all.
"Where's the others? Where's Rudy?" she said.
Her friends looked at each other, and their smiles died.
Chuck Barstow finally spoke, his voice gentle: "We couldn't find Jack or Carmen or Muriel; we left a message at MoonDance. I hope they show up later. Rudy: Rudy's flight was a hundred feet up at six fifteen. Andy and I were at the airport to see him off. He's dead, Juney."
She gave a sound somewhere between a moan and a grunt, feeling winded, as if something had punched her under the short ribs and made it physically impossible to breathe; somehow she'd known, but pushed the knowledge away. Dennis gave her an awkward pat on the back, and Eilir snaked through the crowd to embrace her; she'd liked the funny, skinny little man as well, even after he'd become her mother's lover.
"Blessed be," Juniper murmured after a moment. "May he rest in the Summerlands, and return to us in joy."
"So mote it be," everyone replied.
Then she took a deep breath, and wiped her hand across her eyes.
I'll grieve later, she thought. Right now there's work to be done.
"Where did you get all this stuff? " she said, waving at the wagons and the livestock; there were chickens and ducks and geese, as well as the quadrupeds.
"At the museum's exhibit-Living Pioneer History, where else?" Chuck grinned.
The plumed hat looked a little incongruous over the workaday denim and flannel; he usually wore it with a troubadour's costume at the RenFaires, or his knight's festival garb for Society events. He was wearing his buckler slung from his belt over his parade sword, too:
Which is perfectly good steel, she remembered with a shiver. Like the one I'm wearing.
He went on: "The exhibit was mostly abandoned when we got there, right after the Change: all gone off to try and find their families, I suppose, poor bastards. It was chaos and old night in Eugene by then. So we just: liberated it, you might say, having as good a claim as anyone else. The rest of the livestock the same-some we bought, from people still taking money."
"You saved lives by doing that," Juniper said. "Ours to start with; we'll use the tools and do it in time. It'll come back to you threefold, remember. And the children? Not that I'm objecting: but it's going to be very tight for food before harvest."
She made a quick calculation. The Fairfaxes ' stores would easily have been eighteen months' eating for three, without stinting; for:
Good Goddess gentle and strong, twenty-eight including those children! : it would be about three months, carefully rationed.
Of course, they could eat the livestock if they had to, even the horses: the chickens would yield something:
"They were on a school bus," Andy Trethar said. "All the way from Seattle to Ashland, and returning when the Change hit. And: well, we just couldn't leave them."
Chuck cut in: "Juney, Diana and Andy had just taken a delivery for their store, which we brought along, and we picked up everything we could along the way, and we cleaned out a garden-supply place that had a lot of seeds: We only got here a couple of hours ago ourselves, you understand."
"Well, every mouth comes with a pair of hands," she said stoutly.