The door on the porch which ran the side length of the house opened before they had taken two steps along the cleaned boards. A woman waited for them, her hands tugging smooth a food-spattered apron, an uneasy half-smirk spreading her lips to display a missing front tooth.
“Pax, noble sirs-Pax.” Her voice was as fat and oily as her body and sounded more assured than her expression.
Kimber sketched a version of the official salute and rapped out an answering “Pax-“ in an authority-heavy tone.
“This is–?”
Grotesquely she bobbed in an attempt at a curtsey. “The farm of Hew Folley, noble sir.”
“And where is this Folley?” Kimber asked as if he expected the missing landsman to spring up before him.
“He is dead, sir. Murdered by outlaws. I thought that was why—But come in, noble sirs, come in—“ She waddled back a step leaving the entrance to the kitchen open.
The rich smell of food caught at Dard’s throat, until, for a second, he was almost nauseated. There were thick dishes on the stained table, and congealed grease, a fragment of bread, a half cup of herb tea, marked the remains of a late breakfast.
Without answering the woman’s half-question Kimber seated himself on the nearest chair and with an outstretched arm swept the used dishes from before him. Dard dropped down opposite to the pilot, thankful for the support the hard wooden seat gave his trembling body.
“You have food, woman?” Kimber demanded. “Get it. We have been walking over this forsaken country for hours. Is there a messenger here we can send into town? Our ‘copter is down and we must have the repair crew.”
She was busy at the stove, breaking eggs, real eggs into a greasy skillet.
“Food, yes, noble sirs. But a messenger—since my man is dead I have only the slaves, and they are under lock and key. There is no one to send.”
“You have no son?” Kimber helped himself to a piece of bread.
Her nervous smirk stretched to a smile. “Yes, noble sir, I have a son. But only this month he was chosen by the House of the Olive Branch. He is now in training for your own service, noble sir.”
If she expected this information to unbend her visitors and soften their manners she was disappointed for Kimber merely raised his eyebrows before he continued:
“We can’t walk to town ourselves, woman. Have you no one at all you can send?”
“There is Lotta.” She went to the door and called the girl’s name harshly. “With Hew gone she must see to the cows. But it is a long walk to town, noble sir.”
“Then ride—or how do you get there when you go woman?” Kimber slid three eggs onto his plate and pushed the still laden platter over to Dard, who, a little dazed by the sight of such a wealth of food, made haste to help himself before it vanished.
“There is the colt. She might ride,” the woman agreed reluctantly.
“Then let her get to it. I don’t intend to sit out the whole of this day waiting for help. The sooner she goes, the better!”
“You want me?”
Dard knew that voice. For a long moment he dared not look up. But that inner compulsion which made him always face danger squarely raised his eyes to meet those of the girl standing in the half-open door. His fingers curled around the handle of the fork and bent it a trifle. But Lotta’s stolid expression did not change and he could only hope that his own face was as blank.
“You want me?” she repeated.
The woman nodded at the two Peacemen. “These gentlemen-their ‘copter broke down. They want you should take a message to town for them. Git the colt out and ride.”
“All right.” The girl tramped out and slammed the door behind her.
7: BATTLE AT THE BARRIER
DARD CHEWED mechanically on food which now had no savor. As Kimber forked a thick slice of ham he spoke to the pilot:
“Shall I give the girl instructions, sir?”
Kimber swallowed. “Very well. Be sure she gets it straight. I don’t propose to sit around here waiting for a couple of days. Let her tell the repair master they may find us at the ‘copter. We’ll go back there after we thaw out. But get her started right away—the sooner she leaves the sooner they will come for us.”
Dard went out into the farmyard. Lotta was saddling a horse. As his boots squeaked on the snow she looped up.
“Where’s Dessie? Wotta you done with her?”
“She’s safe.”
Lotta studied his face before she nodded. “That’s the truth, ain’t it? You really want I should go to town? Why? You ain’t no Peaceman—“
“No. And the more you can delay your trip in, the better. But Lotta-“ he had to give her some protection. If later she were suspected of aiding their escape her fate would not be pleasant. “When you get in and report at the Temple, tell them you are suspicious of us. We’ll be gone from here by then.”
With her chin she pointed to the house. “Don’t you trust her none. She ain’t my ma—Folley wasn’t really my pa, neither. My pa was kin and Folley, he wanted the land pa left so they took me in. Don’t you trust her none at all—she’s worse’n Folley was. I’ll ride slow goin’ in, and I’ll do like you say when I git there. Lissen here, Dard, you sure Dessie’s gonna be all right?”
“She is if we can get back to her. She’ll have a chance to live the way she ought to—“
The small eyes in the girl’s pasty face were shrewd. “And that’s a promise! You git outta here and take her too. I’ll make up a good story for ‘em. I ain’t,” she suddenly smiled at him, “I ain’t near as dumb as I look, Dard Nordis, even if I ain’t one of your kind!”
She scrambled awkwardly into the saddle and slapped the ends of the reins so that the horse broke into a trot.
Dard went back to the house and sat down at the table with a better appetite. Kimber broke off man-sized bites of apple tart, and between them he addressed his junior.
“Now that it’s day, I’ve been thinking that we may be able to check the bus over ourselves. You, woman,” he said to their unwilling hostess, “can you direct them on to join us if we don’t return?”
Dard pressured Kimber’s foot with the toe of his boot in warning. And received a return nudge of acknowledgement.
“Which way you goin’?” she asked. Dard thought that some of her deference was gone. Was she beginning to suspect that she was not really entertaining two of the new lords of the land?
“North. We’ll leave a trail, have to back track on your own. Suppose you put us up some grub so we’ll have something at noon. And just send the repair crew along.”
“Yes, noble sirs.”
But that acknowledgement was almost grudging and she was spending a long time putting aside some pieces of cold meat and bread. Or did his jumpy nerves make him imagine that, wondered Dard.
A half hour later they left the house. They kept to the lane and then to the road leading north until a grove cut off their path from any watcher. It was then that Kimber faced west.
“Where now?”
“There’s a trail farther on that doubles back up into the hills,” Dard informed him. “It cuts across the old woods road near that tree where I met Sach.”
“Good. I leave the guide duty up to you. But let’s move! That girl may make a quick trip in—“
“She’ll delay all she can. She knows—“
Kimber’s lips shaped a soundless whistle. “That will help—if she is working for us.”
“I told her that it meant saving Dessie. Dessie’s the only one she cares about.”
The warmth, good food, and short rest they had had at Folley’s gave them heart and strength for the trail ahead. After two false tries Dard found the woods road. Along it there was an earlier trail breaking the snow, made by Lotta, he guessed.
Kimber set an easy pace, knowing the grueling miles which still lay ahead. They took a lengthy rest at the rude lean-to by the message tree. The woods were unnaturally still and the sun reflected from patches of snow, making them squint against the glare.
From the message tree on; it was a matter of following the traces he himself had helped to make. Luckily, Dard congratulated himself, there had been no more snow and the broken path was easy to follow. But both were tired and slowed against their will as they slogged their way toward the heights which held the cave. There they could rest, Dard promised his aching body. They paused to eat, to breathe, and then on and on and on. Dard lost all track of time, it was a business of following in a robot fashion those other marks in the snow.