At the foot of the hill, scattered around the huge tree trunk that had killed a number of the enemy, the bodies resembled dolls—until the crows climbed on them and began their work.
DOC SHOULDERED his pack and easily matched the stride set by the others. He’d filled his pipe with the wondrous blend of tobacco Dean had found, and his head was wreathed with smoke.
Jak and Dean ran point up ahead as they followed along the faint trail that wound through the hilly country back to Hazard. Or from Hazard, Doc reflected, depending on one’s perspective. J.B. covered the back with Mildred to keep him company. Ahead, Ryan walked with Krysty, and they talked quietly among themselves.
A feeling of contentment filled Doc. He breathed expansively, the morning’s killing already fading in his mind.
“You enjoy that pipe,” Albert said at his side. Doc looked down at the dwarf. Ryan had given the little man a pair of snub-nosed .38s that had been reclaimed from the gang. Albert had displayed a flair for working with leather and had arranged a pair of holsters for himself to carry the weapons. Even though they were short barreled, the blasters still ran down his thighs nearly to his knees.
“Yes,” Doc said. “Yes, I do.” He found an odd quote floating around in his head.
“Tobacco, divine, rare, superexcellent tobacco, which goes far beyond all the panaceas, potable gold, and philosophers’ stones, a sovereign remedy to all diseases…”
He stopped, not quite able to remember the rest of it.
The dwarf was slightly out of breath from trying to keep up with the companions. His legs weren’t made for rapid movement, and stride for stride, he definitely came up short. “That’s quoted from something?”
“A work by Robert Burton, unless I misremember.”
“If you’ll pardon my saying so, you seem very well educated to be traveling with your current company.”
“Well,” Doc said with a smile, “I guess that depends on one’s line of thinking. Myself I consider to be almost vastly undereducated when it comes to the art of survival. But that man up there that I consider to be a friend, is a true artiste. Until today you evidently thought no one could destroy the men you traveled with.”
“That was not by choice.”
“And my statement was not an accusation,” Doc returned gently.
The dwarf was silent for a time. “His name is Ryan.”
“Yes.”
“Does he have a last name?”
“Cawdor.”
Albert looked up, eyes widening in surprise. “That Ryan Cawdor? The one whose father was a baron in the Shens? The Ryan Cawdor who rode with the Trader on War Wag One?”
“Yes,” Doc said. “I see you have heard of him.”
“In this part of Deathlands, who hasn’t?” Albert stared at Ryan with increased curiosity. “I thought somehow he would be bigger.”
“Any man would be hard-pressed to fill that man’s boots,” Doc replied.
“If you have time in Hazard,” the dwarf said, “I’d like to stand you to a drink at Cobb’s. He’s got a line of homemade wines that are among the best I’ve ever had the chance to sample.”
“Well, my small friend, an opportunity to lose one’s melancholy in a bit of the grape is always a fine thing.”
“Cobb’s doesn’t just serve liquor,” Albert stated. “There’s books there. Dozens of them. I’d like to hear what you have to say about them. And I know Cobb would, too.”
“I shall look forward to that.” Doc glanced at the dwarf again. “I have a suggestion to make, if I might.”
“What?”
“Mayhap I could give you a few moments of respite by offering you my back for a time.” Doc hurried on before the little man could object. “In return for the consideration you’ll be showing me.”
The dwarf looked away, mopping at his sweating forehead with a handkerchief. “I don’t like feeling I owe anyone.”
“Nonsense. You are going to be showing me an establishment that I might not find on my own.”
Albert was silent, then said, “Cobb’s can be hard to find if you don’t know what you’re looking for.”
“Then I take it we have a deal?” Doc stopped and thrust out his hand.