"Shrouds," she said through numb lips. "For you and all yer friends. A fearful heavy load it made, too - near broke the poor animal's back."
"There's a saying in the land I come from," Jonas said, still smiling. "Clever girls go to hell. Ever heard it?" He went on stroking Capi's nose. The mule liked it; his neck was thrust out to its full length, his stupid little eyes half-closed with pleasure. "Has it crossed your mind that fellows who unload their pack animal, split up what it was carrying, and take the goods away usually ain't coming back?"
Susan said nothing.
"You've been left high and dry, Sunbeam. Fast f**ked is usually fast forgot, sad to say. Do you know where they went?"
"Yes," she said. Her voice was low, barely a whisper.
Jonas looked pleased. "If you was to tell, things might go easier for you. Would you agree, Renfrew?"
"Aye," Renfrew said. "They're traitors, Susan - for the Good Man. If you know where they are or what they're up to, tell us."
Keeping her eyes fixed on Jonas, Susan said: "Come closer." Her numbed lips didn't want to move and it came out sounding like Cung gloser, but Jonas understood and leaned forward, stretching his neck in a way that made him look absurdly like Caprichoso. When he did, Susan spat in his face.
Jonas recoiled, lips twisting in surprise and revulsion. "Arrr! BITCH!" he cried, and launched a full-swung, open-handed blow that drove her to the ground. She landed at full length on her side with black stars exploding across her field of vision. She could already feel her right cheek swelling like a balloon and thought, If he'd hit an inch or two lower, he might've broken my neck. Mayhap that would've been best. She raised her hand to her nose and wiped blood from the right nostril.
Jonas turned to Renfrew, who had taken a single step forward and then stopped himself. "Put her on her horse and tie her hands in front of her. Tight." He looked down at Susan, then kicked her in the shoulder hard enough to send her rolling toward the hut. "Spit on me, would you? Spit on Eldred Jonas, would you, you bitch?"
Reynolds was holding out his neckerchief. Jonas took it, wiped the spittle from his face with it, then dropped into a hunker beside her. He took a handful of her hair and carefully wiped the neckerchief with it. Then he hauled her to her feet. Tears of pain now peeped from the comers of her eyes, but she kept silent.
"I may never see your friend again, sweet Sue with the tender little titties, but I've got you, ain't I? Yar. And if Dearborn gives us trouble, I'll give you double. And make sure Dearborn knows. You may count on it."
His smile faded, and he gave her a sudden, bitter shove that almost sent her sprawling again.
"Now get mounted, and do it before I decide to change your face a little with my knife."
12
Sheemie watched from the grass, terrified and silently crying, as Susan spit in the bad Coffin Hunter's face and was knocked to the ground, hit so hard the blow might have killed her. He almost rushed out then, but something - it could have been his friend Arthur's voice in his head - told him that would only get him killed.
He watched as Susan mounted. One of the other men - not a Coffin Hunter but a big rancher Sheemie had seen in the Rest from time to time - tried to help, but Susan pushed him away with the sole of her boot. The man stood back with a red face.
Don't make em mad, Susan, Sheemie thought. Oh gods, don't do that, they'll hit ye some more! Oh, yer poor face! And ye got a nosebleed, so you do!
"Last chance," Jonas told her. "Where are they, and what do they mean to do?"
"Go to hell," she said.
He smiled - a thin, hurty smile. "Likely I'll find you there when I arrive," he said. Then, to the other Coffin Hunter: "You checked the place careful?"
"Whatever they had, they took it," the redhead answered. "Only thing they left was Dearborn's punch-bunny."
That made Jonas laugh meany-mean as he climbed on board his own horse. "Come on," he said, "let's ride."
They went back into the Bad Grass. It closed around them, and it was as if they had never been there . . . except that Susan was gone, and so was Capi. The big rancher riding beside Susan had been leading the mule.
When he was sure they weren't going to return, Sheemie walked slowly back into the clearing, doing up the button on top of his pants as he came. He looked from the way Roland and his friends had gone to the one in which Susan had been taken. Which?
A moment's thought made him realize there was no choice. The grass out here was tough and springy. The path Roland and Alain and good old Arthur Heath (so Sheemie still thought of him, and always would) had taken was gone. The one made by Susan and her captors, on the other hand, was still clear. And perhaps, if he followed her, he could do something for her. Help her.
Walking at first, then jogging as his fear that they might double back and catch him dissipated, Sheemie went in the direction Susan had been taken. He would follow her most of that day.