The Armorer nodded, not letting his feelings show. It was in the companions’ best interests to have the armory in A1 condition, but it would also be good to know exactly what Correll had in his armory in case they had to stand against him.
Correll continued, pointing at the map. “I figure that the route will take both convoys around the really arid areas here—” he pointed at a spot toward the center of the distance between the two villes”—but they’ll still want to meet as near to the center as possible. I know Jourgensen, and so does Hutter, the baron in Summerfield,” he added for the benefit of the companions. “Any kind of advantage Jourgensen could get, he’d take with both greedy hands, so Hutter’ll want to keep things as neutral as possible. And guess what, people? It just so happens that brings them nice and near to us.
“While most of us train, there’s going to have to be volunteers for a recce party to scout Charity. I managed to get word from our spy in Charity about the meet, but Jourgensen has got the shape and size of the party well and truly sewn up. We need to get someone close enough to the ville to see what’s going on.”
There was a moment’s silence, then Lonnie rose to his feet. “I’ll go,” he said simply. The Native American woman rose to her feet, casting a hostile and suspicious look at the companions as she did.
“Count me in,” she muttered.
Correll shook his head. “No way, Jenny. You’ve got to oversee the armory, and I’ll need you to work with J.B.”
“Shit, Joe, can’t someone else do that? I don’t want to work with them,” she added, spitting out the last word as she glared at the companions.
Correll’s face hardened—if that was possible in a visage that was so gaunt to begin with. “I know how you feel. Lance was a good man, and it was sad to see him pass. But that’s fate. These people were defending themselves as we were. There was no malice, and we hold none against them.”
Jenny turned and looked directly at Correll, her eyes meeting his with a blaze of defiance and anger. She matched him for a few moments, then looked down. “Okay,” she mumbled, “if that’s the way it’s got to be.”
“It is,” Correll said softly. “Sit down and let’s see someone else.”
She reluctantly sat, and others rose to take her place. The recce party would consist of the lean, crop-haired Lonnie; Mik, a small, lean-faced man with several piercings and sardonic gaze; Tilly, a woman with large brown eyes and mouth set in determination, and the whip-thin boy in spectacles who had caught Dean’s gaze the evening before. His name was Danny, and it seemed that he was the youngest member of the community.
“I think we shouldn’t forget our friends,” Correll said when he had approved the volunteers. “It would only be reasonable to send someone from your group on the recce,” he added directly to Ryan.
The one-eyed man wasn’t keen on the idea. He would have preferred to keep his people together at this time. He didn’t believe that Correll had any notions of chilling the group, but he figured that the man was unpredictable and possibly insane, driven beyond reason by his cause. But what could Ryan do? To dissent would be to cause a problem that was, at this stage, unnecessary and undesirable. “Mebbe,” he said slowly. “You want me, J.B. and Mildred here, right?” Correll nodded. Ryan continued, “So you take your pick out of the rest.”
Correll eyed Ryan, the sunken orbs boring into the one-eyed man.
“Okay,” he said finally, “I’m reckoning that Jak is the best tracker and hunter you’ve got, and I’m also reckoning that your boy Dean—if he’s anything like you—will be good to have in a firefight. I’ll pick them.”
Ryan nodded agreement, looking to Dean and Jak. Both assented, and seemed happy enough.
“I’d like to go, as well,” Doc said suddenly.
“Why?” Correll asked. “No offense intended, but you don’t seem the most physically able to undertake such a mission.”