James Axler – Shadowfall

He turned to look at Ryan. “Can we come with you on this reconnaissance, Mr. Cawdor? I could lend Dean one of my ponies.”

Ryan considered the request. If it had been Dean alone, then he would probably have allowed his son to come along. It wasn’t a patrol that was likely to lead into a serious firefight, but Jamie Weyman was an unknown quantity.

Then again, Ryan didn’t want to risk alienating the baron.

At that moment, Weyman himself came into the dining room, walking slowly and unsteadily, with the aid of a stick. His complexion seemed even more pale than usual.

“I am so sorry to have neglected you.” One of the serving women approached him. “Nothing for me, I think, Dorita. Though perhaps I could force down a lightly boiled egg whisked into a beaker of warm milk. Thank you.”

“Father” Jamie began.

The baron lifted his hands to his ears with an expression of distress on his face. “Quietly, child. You know how excessive noise is intolerable to my senses. I heard the discussion, and I think that this is not a party for young boys. Men of experience, only.”

“Do you agree with me on this matter?” he asked Ryan.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Then that is settled. Bill Rainey takes the lead of the hunters. Three of our best and most experienced men will accompany him. And you, Mr. Cawdor? How many of your party will you take along with you?”

Ryan looked around the table, knowing that most of the group would like to ride out for a morning’s fresh air and exercise. “Risk of trouble,” he said. “Guess I’ll take the three most experienced of my men. Trader, J.B. and Jak.”

“Chauvinist pig,” Mildred said, not quite under her breath.

“Sorry.” Ryan shrugged. “You know the rule about dividing your forces.”

Trader answered. “If you just think about splitting your power, then don’t do it. If you have to split your power, then cut it as near down the middle as you can.”

“HOW COME THE BARON doesn’t get himself better breeding stock?” Trader was bouncing unhappily along on a swaybacked palomino that looked as if it had seen better days. Around fifteen years ago. It was blind in one eye and had a deep sore weeping from the left front fetlock.

Rainey was in the lead. “Time was he would. Like I said, when he started to get kind of unwell he let the reins lie loose. It happens.”

J.B. had his fedora tipped back to let the morning sunlight stream down onto his sallow cheeks. “Man lets the reins lie loose opens his eyes and finds his horse has just run away with him,” he said.

Trader nodded. “Wish I’d said that, John Dix.”

The Armorer grinned. “Oh, you will, Trader. You will.”

A HALF MILE BEHIND THEM, a couple of nimble-footed ponies were picking their way along a parallel trail, a little higher up the face of the hillside, twisting and turning among the tall pines. The air was filled with the fresh tang of juniper and pinon, the path splashed with bright puddles of sunlight among the darker shadows of the forest.

The two boys were riding quietly along, Jamie leading the way.

They had slipped away as soon as the main group had left through the gates on their recce patrol. Dean had been surprised how easy it had been for them to leave the ville. Jamie had told the careless sec man on guard that they were going out for an hour or so to exercise the ponies. The sentry had blown his nose, then opened the heavy gates for them without any further questions.

“Poor security, Jamie,” he’d said when they were a few minutes into the woods.

The boy had been taken aback. “Do you truly think so? I must admit that I’ve never really thought about it. Father says that when I’m a few years older, then he’ll get Bill Rainey to teach me about things like that.”

“You don’t have a blaster?”

“No.” Jamie looked enviously at the big Browning Hi-Power on his companion’s hip. “Can I carry that and have a shoot with it, please, Dean?”