one of those cases of suddenly
deciding you ought to be investigating something somewhere else. I
heard a stir in the woods behind me. Not much of one. Thinking some
of the dogs had gotten brave, I turned with the stick I still
carried.
“Holy shit!”
A woolly mammoth stood at the edge of the woods, and from where
I was it looked about ninety-three hands high at the shoulder. How
the hell it had come up so quietly is beyond me. I didn’t
ask. When it cocked its head and made a curious grunting noise, I
put the heels and toes to work according to the gods’ design.
The beast threw a trumpet roar after me. Laughing. I paused behind
a two-foot-thick oak and gave it a stare. A mammoth. Here. No
mammoth had come this close to TunFaire in the past dozen
generations. The nearest herds were four hundred miles north of us,
up along the borders of thunder-lizard country.
The mammoth ambled out of the woods, laughed at me again,
cropped some grass a couple of bales at a time while keeping one
eye on me. Finally convinced that I was no fearless mammoth
poacher, it eyeballed the vultures, checked the dead ogres, snorted
in disgust, and marched off through the woods as quietly as it had
come. And last night I’d been unconcerned because no wolfman
had been seen since I was a kid.
Like I said, luck is not always with the bad guys.
It was time to stop tempting it with the one out of ten and hike
on back to my rig before the horses got wind of that monster and
decided they would feel more comfortable back in the city. Too bad
Garrett had to ride shank’s mare.
----
XVIII
I sat on the buggy seat, beside the crossroads obelisk, and
watched a parade of farm families and donkey carts head up the
Derry Road. I didn’t see them. I was trying to pick between
Karl Junior’s farm prison and Saucerhead’s witch. The
decision had actually been made. I was putting the thumbscrews on
myself trying to figure if I was going to the farm first just to
delay the pain skulking around the other place. No matter that I
had to head the same direction to reach both and the farm was
nearer. You don’t alter the past, turn the tide, or change
yourself by brooding about your hidden motives. You will surprise
yourself every time, anyway. Nobody ever figures out why.
“Hell with it! Get up.”
One of the team looked over her shoulder. She had that glint in
her eye. The tribe of horses was about to amuse itself at
Garrett’s expense.
Why do they do this to me? Horses and women. I’ll never
understand either species.
“Don’t even think about it, horse. I have friends in
the glue business. Get up.”
They got. Unlike women, you can show horses who is boss. The
bout with introspection rekindled my desire to lay hands on the
people responsible for the human equivalent of sending Amiranda to
the glue works. The exit to the farm was up on a ridgeline where
the ground was too dry to hold tracks, and hidden by undergrowth. I
passed it twice. The third time I got down and led the team, giving
the bushes a closer look, and that did the trick. Two young
mulberry trees, which grow as fast as weeds, leaned together over
the track. Once past them the way was easy to follow, though it
hadn’t been cleared since Donni’s departure. I had to
go through a half mile of woods, not a mile. It was dense in there,
dark, quiet, and humid. The deerflies and horseflies were out at
play, and every few feet I got a faceful of spider silk. I sweated
and slapped and muttered and picked ticks off my pants. Why
doesn’t everybody live in the city?
I ran into a blackberry patch where the berries were fat and
sweet, and decided to lunch on the spot. Afterward I felt more
disposed toward the country, until the chiggers off the blackberry
canes started gnawing. The track through the woods showed evidence
of recent use, including that of the passage of at least one heavy
vehicle. I had a feeling that, no matter what suspicions haunted
me, I wouldn’t unearth one bit of
deciding you ought to be investigating something somewhere else. I
heard a stir in the woods behind me. Not much of one. Thinking some
of the dogs had gotten brave, I turned with the stick I still
carried.
“Holy shit!”
A woolly mammoth stood at the edge of the woods, and from where
I was it looked about ninety-three hands high at the shoulder. How
the hell it had come up so quietly is beyond me. I didn’t
ask. When it cocked its head and made a curious grunting noise, I
put the heels and toes to work according to the gods’ design.
The beast threw a trumpet roar after me. Laughing. I paused behind
a two-foot-thick oak and gave it a stare. A mammoth. Here. No
mammoth had come this close to TunFaire in the past dozen
generations. The nearest herds were four hundred miles north of us,
up along the borders of thunder-lizard country.
The mammoth ambled out of the woods, laughed at me again,
cropped some grass a couple of bales at a time while keeping one
eye on me. Finally convinced that I was no fearless mammoth
poacher, it eyeballed the vultures, checked the dead ogres, snorted
in disgust, and marched off through the woods as quietly as it had
come. And last night I’d been unconcerned because no wolfman
had been seen since I was a kid.
Like I said, luck is not always with the bad guys.
It was time to stop tempting it with the one out of ten and hike
on back to my rig before the horses got wind of that monster and
decided they would feel more comfortable back in the city. Too bad
Garrett had to ride shank’s mare.
----
XVIII
I sat on the buggy seat, beside the crossroads obelisk, and
watched a parade of farm families and donkey carts head up the
Derry Road. I didn’t see them. I was trying to pick between
Karl Junior’s farm prison and Saucerhead’s witch. The
decision had actually been made. I was putting the thumbscrews on
myself trying to figure if I was going to the farm first just to
delay the pain skulking around the other place. No matter that I
had to head the same direction to reach both and the farm was
nearer. You don’t alter the past, turn the tide, or change
yourself by brooding about your hidden motives. You will surprise
yourself every time, anyway. Nobody ever figures out why.
“Hell with it! Get up.”
One of the team looked over her shoulder. She had that glint in
her eye. The tribe of horses was about to amuse itself at
Garrett’s expense.
Why do they do this to me? Horses and women. I’ll never
understand either species.
“Don’t even think about it, horse. I have friends in
the glue business. Get up.”
They got. Unlike women, you can show horses who is boss. The
bout with introspection rekindled my desire to lay hands on the
people responsible for the human equivalent of sending Amiranda to
the glue works. The exit to the farm was up on a ridgeline where
the ground was too dry to hold tracks, and hidden by undergrowth. I
passed it twice. The third time I got down and led the team, giving
the bushes a closer look, and that did the trick. Two young
mulberry trees, which grow as fast as weeds, leaned together over
the track. Once past them the way was easy to follow, though it
hadn’t been cleared since Donni’s departure. I had to
go through a half mile of woods, not a mile. It was dense in there,
dark, quiet, and humid. The deerflies and horseflies were out at
play, and every few feet I got a faceful of spider silk. I sweated
and slapped and muttered and picked ticks off my pants. Why
doesn’t everybody live in the city?
I ran into a blackberry patch where the berries were fat and
sweet, and decided to lunch on the spot. Afterward I felt more
disposed toward the country, until the chiggers off the blackberry
canes started gnawing. The track through the woods showed evidence
of recent use, including that of the passage of at least one heavy
vehicle. I had a feeling that, no matter what suspicions haunted
me, I wouldn’t unearth one bit of
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