FIVE
Not long after, Roland accosted Ben Slightman. The foreman was standing beneath one of the torch-poles, balancing a cup of coffee and a plate with a piece of cake on it. Roland also had cake and coffee. Across the greensward, the children’s tent had for the nonce become the refreshment tent. A long line of waiting people snaked out of it. There was low talk but little laughter. Closer by, Benny and Jake were tossing a springball back and forth, every now and then letting Oy have a turn. The bumbler was barking happily, but the boys seemed as subdued as the people waiting in line.
“Ye spoke well tonight,” Slightman said, and clicked his coffee cup against Roland’s.
“Do you say so?”
“Aye. Of course they were ready, as I think ye knew, but Faraday must have been a surprise to ye, and ye handled him well.”
“I only told the truth,” Roland said. “If the Wolves lose enough of their troop, they’ll take what they can and cut their losses. Legends grow beards, and twenty-three years is plenty of time to grow a long one. Calla-folken assume there are thousands of Wolves over there in Thunderclap, maybe millions of em, but I don’t think that’s true.”
Slightman was looking at him with frank fascination. “Why not?”
“Because things are running down,” Roland said simply, and then: “I need you to promise me something.”
Slightman looked at him warily. The lenses of his spectacles twinkled in the torchlight. “If I can, Roland, I will.”
“Make sure your boy’s here four nights from now. His sister’s dead, but I doubt if that untwins him to the Wolves. He’s still very likely got what it is they come for.”
Slightman made no effort to disguise his relief. “Aye, he’ll be here. I never considered otten else.”
“Good. And I have a job for you, if you’ll do it.”
The wary look returned. “What job would it be?”
“I started off thinking that six would be enough to mind the children while we dealt with the Wolves, and then Rosalita asked me what I’d do if they got frightened and panicked.”
“Ah, but you’ll have em in a cave, won’t you?” Slightman asked, lowering his voice. “Kiddies can’t run far in a cave, even if they do take fright.”
“Far enough to run into a wall and brain themselves or fall down a hole in the dark. If one were to start a stampede on account of the yelling and the smoke and the fire, they might all fall down a hole in the dark. I’ve decided I’d like to have an even ten watching the kiddos. I’d like you to be one of em.”
“Roland, I’m flattered.”
“Is that a yes?”
Slightman nodded.
Roland eyed him. “You know that if we lose, the ones minding the children are apt to die?”
“If I thought you were going to lose, I’d never agree to go out there with the kids.” He paused. “Or send my own.”
“Thank you, Ben. Thee’s a good man.”
Slightman lowered his voice even further. “Which of the mines is it going to be? The Gloria or the Redbird?” And when Roland didn’t answer immediately: “Of course I understand if ye’d rather not tell—”
“It’s not that,” Roland said. “It’s that we haven’t decided.”
“But it’ll be one or the other.”
“Oh, aye, where else?” Roland said absently, and began to roll a smoke.
“And ye’ll try to get above them?”
“Wouldn’t work,” Roland said. “Angle’s wrong.” He patted his chest above his heart. “Have to hit em here, remember. Other places . . . no good. Even a bullet that goes through armor wouldn’t do much damage to a zombi.”
“It’s a problem, isn’t it?”
“It’s an opportunity,” Roland corrected. “You know the scree that spreads out below the adits of those old garnet mines? Looks like a baby’s bib?”
“Aye?”
“We’ll hide ourselves in there. Under there. And when they ride toward us, we’ll rise up and . . . ” Roland cocked a thumb and forefinger at Slightman and made a trigger-pulling gesture.
A smile spread over the foreman’s face. “Roland, that’s brilliant!”
“No,” Roland contradicted. “Only simple. But simple’s usually best. I think we’ll surprise them. Hem them in and pick them off. It’s worked for me before. No reason it shouldn’t work again.”
“No. I suppose not.”
Roland looked around. “Best we not talk about such things here, Ben. I know you’re safe, but—”
Ben nodded rapidly. “Say n’more, Roland, I understand.”
The springball rolled to Slightman’s feet. His son held up his hands for it, smiling. “Pa! Throw it!”
Ben did, and hard. The ball sailed, just as Molly’s plate had in Granpere’s story. Benny leaped, caught it one-handed, and laughed. His father grinned at him fondly, then glanced at Roland. “They’s a pair, ain’t they? Yours and mine?”
“Aye,” Roland said, almost smiling. “Almost like brothers, sure enough.”
SIX
The ka-tet ambled back toward the rectory, riding four abreast, feeling every town eye that watched them go: death on horseback.
“You happy with how it went, sugar?” Susannah asked Roland.
“It’ll do,” he allowed, and began to roll a smoke.
“I’d like to try one of those,” Jake said suddenly.
Susannah gave him a look both shocked and amused. “Bite your tongue, sugar—you haven’t seen thirteen yet.”
“My Dad started when he was ten.”
“And’ll be dead by fifty, like as not,” Susannah said sternly.
“No great loss,” Jake muttered, but he let the subject drop.
“What about Mia?” Roland asked, popping a match with his thumbnail. “Is she quiet?”
“If it wasn’t for you boys, I’m not sure I’d believe there even was such a jane.”
“And your belly’s quiet, too?”
“Yes.” Susannah guessed everyone had rules about lying; hers was that if you were going to tell one, you did best to keep it short. If she had a chap in her belly—some sort of monster—she’d let them help her worry about it a week from tonight. If they were still able to worry about anything, that was. For the time being they didn’t need to know about the few little cramps she’d been having.
“Then all’s well,” the gunslinger said. They rode in silence for awhile, and then he said: “I hope you two boys can dig. There’ll be some digging to do.”
“Graves?” Eddie asked, not sure if he was joking or not.
“Graves come later.” Roland looked up at the sky, but the clouds had advanced out of the west and stolen the stars. “Just remember, it’s the winners who dig them.”