Then Ingolf laughed aloud as they came upon a man-high oak stump not far from the road. It was roughly carved into the shape of a naked big-nosed troll, but despite the crude work you could see a look of ineffable self-satisfaction on its face and in the way its hands folded across a swag belly; from the weathering and moss, it was at least a decade old and perhaps more. In Mackenzie or Bearkiller territory Rudi would have thought it a roadside shrine, but he doubted that was the purpose here and looked a question at the Readstown man. ?I did that,? Ingolf said, a chuckle still in his voice.?Well, me and Bert Kuykendall and Carl Heisz and Will Uhe, when we were all about twelve. It?s the spitting image of old Bossman Al, Al Clements. He came up from Richland Center that year, doing a tour of his Sheriffs? homeplaces. We snuck out and worked on it after dark, kept it under a pile of brush until the day, and he went right past it and turned… what?s that color, sort of like purple…? ?Puce,? Mary Havel put in, sharing her man?s good humor. ?Yah, puce. Dad wore out a hickory switch on Bert and Carl and Will, and two more on me for setting a bad example, but it was worth sitting down careful for a while. Surprised Ed didn?t have it cut down; he isn?t… wasn?t… much of a man for a joke.? ?Why didn?t your father do just that and take an ax to it, if he was angry, and it annoyed his overlord?? ?He wouldn?t give Clements the satisfaction. Never liked the man. I think he laughed about it to himself, despite the merry hell he gave all four of us. Dad was a hard man on his sons, but he expected us to push back at him. Wanted it too, I think.? ?Ah, and are you also thinking those three friends of your youth will be there to greet you?? Rudi said.
The smile died.?All dead now. Will put a pitchfork through his foot while he was loading manure that year. He was always a dreamy sort. Got lockjaw, poor bastard.? ?A hard passing,? Rudi said sympathetically, nodding; they?d had drugs for that in the old days, but…
Ingolf shrugged.?What way isn?t? Unless someone hits you on the head with an ax when you?re not expecting it. Bert and Carl volunteered for the Sioux War and left home with me… Bert got an arrow in the eye a couple of weeks later. We weren?t even to Marshall yet and he wasn?t eighteen when it happened-night attack, just dumb bad luck and our not knowing what the fuck we were doing. Carl was bushwhacked by Eaters in Boston, that last salvage trip east my Villains made. But we collected the head-price for him, and piled the ears on his grave.?
Rudi nodded again; he?d have expected no less; Ingolf wasn?t a man to let a comrade go unavenged. ?Ritva, Mary,? he said.?Ride ahead and see to our welcome.?
He reached into his saddlebag and held out a large envelope. ?They?ll have had scouts watching, unless Ed?s let things slip,? Ingolf said.?And odds are someone came ahead when we got off the ship and said who we were and where we were going; they?d have gotten here yesterday, riding fast and switching horses. You can?t drag this many people through the countryside tactfully, but nobody?s looking too upset over us. They must have some idea who we are.? ?To be sure. But I?m thinking it?s best to be formal.? ?With my brother Ed? Yah, you betcha. Always was a stickler.?
The twins reined around; Ritva took the envelope and Mary paused for an instant to reach out and touch Ingolf?s hand before she leaned forward and brought her Arab mare, Rochael, up to a canter with a shift of balance.
Rudi waited for another fifteen minutes of travel amid the stuttering clop of scores of hooves, creak of saddle and harness, grind of wheels and the thud as one rose and fell over a rock in the roadway, then threw up his clenched right fist. The long caravan came slowly to a halt behind him, with a squeal of brakes and a neighing of horses and curses in two languages and several dialects. There were six big wagons there, and nearly a hundred folk.
It?s a migration, not a quest! he thought. The which is a giant flag to attract attention and an inconvenience, so it is. Finding three pounds of food per head per day… it?s a lesson in logistics! Or a pain in the arse. But the Southsiders will be worth their weight in gold farther east-more than worth it, for the savages don?t want to eat gold.
Then aloud:?We?ll await them here. It?s… polite.?
His comrades followed his example as he dismounted, stretching and twisting in relief; it had been a long day in the saddle. Virginia Kane didn?t only twist and reach, but frankly rubbed and kneaded her buttocks. ?I got outta condition in Iowa,? she said.? And on that damn boat. Too much sittin?, not enough ridin?.? ?I wish you wouldn?t do that,? Fred Thurston said to her.?It makes me want to do it too.? ?What, rub your butt? Why not? We ain?t none of us picky about parlor manners, that I noticed.?Cept Odard, and that?s his problem.?
The baron of Gervais bowed and blew her a kiss, which she answered with a raised finger. Fred grinned and replied: ?No, it makes me want to rub yours.? ?Now you?re talkin?, lover boy!?
She unhitched her lariat from the saddle and swatted him on the backside with the coil. ?Let?s go get those remounts bridled and on leading reins; they?ll be skittish?round strange horses. More fun than talking anyhow. ?Specially talkin? to farmers.?
She looked around at the valley that held Readstown.?This country?s too… too crowded with country, you ask me. I feel like I?m stuck in a closet and something?s hidin? behind them hills and trees.? ?You know, Chief, the Rocky Mountains were grand,? Edain said, when she?d dropped back.
They stood with the breeze cuffing at their plaids and ruffling the raven feathers in the clasp of his flat bonnet, the tuft of wolf fur in Edain?s.
The young man of the Wolf totem went on, with a glance at Virginia over his shoulder where she was roping a skittish piebald: ?And the deserts, and the plains-well, the Lord and Lady made all lands beautiful in their own way, but after a while the flatlands had me feelin? like a bug on a tabletop, and someone about to swat me and say sorry, little brother and flick the body off the table with thumb and finger for Garbh to snap up.?
The big shaggy beast rose at the sound of her name and butted her head under his hand. He ruffled her ears absently and went on as she grinned and squirmed and leaned against him: ?This now… It isn?t home, but it?s more homelike than most of what we?ve seen, sure and it is.? ?I had the same buglike feeling on the plains, boyo,? Rudi said. ?It?s all where you?re raised, I suppose. And this is a delight to the eye, and no mistake.?
It was a pleasure to look around, and at the same time it sent a lance of pain up under his ribs. There was no alarm now, so Ingolf?s thought of scouts and messengers preceding them were probably the truth. He saw folk at work in the fields heaving wicker baskets of potatoes onto a wagon, a shepherd with her dogs, a bow across her back and her crook in her hand amid the dun-white flow of her charges, the people of a farmstead laying fresh shingles on their roofs against the coming winter with the raw wood yellow amid the faded brown of the older layers. The tack… tack… of the hammers sounded, faint with distance.
At home they?d be doing those homely tasks too, and hanging Brigid?s crosses from the roof-trees, and making the costumes ready for Samhain… ?It?s a comely place that bred you, Ingolf, that?s a fact,? he said. ?It sure is,? the older man said quietly, a half smile on his battered, bearded face.
He hadn?t seen this land since he left as a boy of nineteen, younger than Edain was now. There was a hungry look in his dark blue eyes as he went on: ?Pretty as I remember, and then some. Fair is the land, fair to the harvest… I thought about this a lot, in some real bad places. Seeing myself riding up this road, in my head, you know??