Ditchdown hesitated, then forced a laugh. “We’re simple people here, Trader. I know a horse and a dog and a woman. Plain and straightforward.”
“Then tell us straightforward what the rest of your men are doing.” Trader stared at Ditchdown until the larger man lowered his eyes.
“We have to live,” he muttered. “They said when we were on the road that Weyman’s a blown fruit, ready for the plucking.” He recovered a little of his aggression. “What’s it to you? You baron’s men?”
“We’re our own men,” Ryan replied. “The way you live is the way you live. Not our business. We thank you for the bread, and we’ll be on our way.”
“Day’s wore on,” Ditchdown said. “Welcome to stay the night with us. We lost three in the last couple days to the fucking pigs in the forest, so there’s spare room. Give you two tents to yourselves for a night, if you wanted them.”
“Pigs?” Mildred said. “Is that slang for sec men?”
The man looked at her in bewilderment. “Don’t take your meaning, lady.”
“What are pigs?”
“Pigs is pigs,” he replied.
“Oh, you mean real pigs? Like fat and snorting with lots of little piglets, waddling around ready for bacon time?” Mildred laughed, then saw that the man’s face was set like stone. “That what you mean?”
“I mean mutie beasts that come in close to a thousand pounds and can rip a man from throat to groin with one hook of their bloody tusks.”
The woman looked away from him. “I didn’t know,” she said quietly.
“Not uncommon.” J.B. was sitting next to her, and he patted her on the arm. “You weren’t to know.”
“I guess I’ve seen a fair range of mutated flora and fauna since arriving in Deathlands,” she said. “So murderous porkers shouldn’t surprise me.”
Ryan looked at Ditchdown. “Can you give us a few minutes to talk in private? Whether to take you up on your offer and stay the night or not?”
” ‘Course. Like I said. Woods are dark and deep around here. Baron’s men might not take to strangers. Safer to stay here with us. When Schickel gets back he’d like to talk. Be impressed with your blasters. Mebbe ask you to come join us.” He stood and walked away. Ryan looked around the table. “Anyone got anything to say on this?”
Trader spoke first. “Raggedy load of bare-assed bastards like this won’t cause much trouble to any well-armed baron. Nor to us. If they want us to stay the night and eat their food, no questions asked and no debts owed, then I don’t see why not.”
“Fair enough. Krysty?”
She was busily licking plum preserve off her fingers. “There’s a lot of tension and excitement here. Part of it’s waiting for this man Schickel and the rest of the hunting party. But there’s something about me and Jak that I don’t get. Somehow linked to Straub, whoever he is.”
J.B. lifted a hand. “They aren’t just out hunting. Obvious. Seems no doubt they plan to try and take this Baron Weyman for what they can. I agree with Trader. From what we’ve seen they won’t be too much of a threat.”
“Unless baron isn’t strong,” Jak interrupted. “Straw house blows down easy.”
Ryan rapped on the table with his fist. “Main point is whether we are likely to be in any danger. Be good to have somewhere to sleep. Long as we post a watch.”
“Few smoothbores and a Kalashnikov or two won’t present much of a threat,” J.B. said.
“I see no real threat.”
Doc coughed. “If I may interject? I understand that they are inviting us to share both their beds and their board. It would be churlish to reject such kind hospitality. Particularly if the supper is in the same league as their bread and confitures.”
“All right then.” Ryan looked around once more. “We reckon that it’s worth the small risk to stay a night. Then move on in the morning. And we all keep a good watch.”
Chapter Fifteen
Ryan and the rest of the group had been shown to their tents. Both were made from a mixture of crudely woven wool and animal hides, which, from their acrid smell, had never been properly cured. There were piles of furs and old blankets in each tent. Ryan and Krysty took the smaller of them with Mildred and J.B., leaving the other, larger one to be shared between Doc, Trader, Abe, Dean and Jak.