"It's sure not Spanish," Jake said. "But the nineteen thing - "
"Piss on nineteen," Roland said rudely. "This isn't the time for number games. He'll be back here with his friends in short order, and I would speak to you an-tet of another matter before he does."
"Do you think he could possibly be right about Black Thirteen?" Jake asked.
"Yes," Roland said. "Based just on what happened to you and Eddie last night, I think the answer is yes. Dangerous for us to have such a thing if he is right, but have it we must. I fear these Wolves out of Thunderclap will if we don't. Never mind, that need not trouble us now."
Yet Roland looked very troubled indeed. He turned his regard toward Jake.
"You started when you heard the big farmer's name. So did you, Eddie, although you concealed it better."
"Sorry," Jake said. "I have forgotten the face of - "
"Not even a bit have you," Roland said. "Unless I have, as well. Because I've heard the name myself, and recently. I just can't remember where." Then, reluctantly: "I'm getting old."
"It was in the bookstore," Jake said. He took his pack, fiddled nervously with the straps, undid them. He flipped the pack open as he spoke. It was as if he had to make sure Charlie the Choo-Choo and Riddle-De-Dumwere still there, still real. "The Manhattan Restaurant of the Mind. It's so weird. Once it happened to me and once I watched it happen to me. That'd make a pretty good riddle all by itself."
Roland made a rapid rotating gesture with his diminished right hand, telling him to go on and be quick.
"Mr. Tower introduced himself," Jake said, "and then I did the same. Jake Chambers, I said. And he said - "
" 'Good handle, partner,'" Eddie broke in. "That's what he said. Then he said Jake Chambers sounded like the name of the hero in a Western novel."
" 'The guy who blows into Black Fork, Arizona, cleans up the town, then moves on,'"Jake quoted. "And then he said, 'Something by Wayne D. Overholser, maybe.' " He looked at Susannah and repeated it. "Wayne D. Overholser . And if you tell me that's a coincidence, Susannah..." He broke into a sunny, sudden grin. "I'll tell you to kiss my white-boy ass."
Susannah laughed. "No need of that, sass-box. I don't believe it's a coincidence. And when we meet Callahan's farmer friend, I intend to ask him what his middle name is. I set my warrant that it'll not only begin with D, it'll be something like Dean or Dane, just four letters - " Her hand went back to the place below her breast. "This gas! My! What I wouldn't give for a roll of Tums or even a bottle of - " She broke off again. "Jake, what is it? What's wrong?"
Jake was holding Charlie the Choo-Choo in his hands, and his face had gone dead white. His eyes were huge, shocked. Beside him, Oy whined uneasily. Roland leaned over to look, and his eyes also widened.
"Good gods," he said.
Eddie and Susannah looked. The title was the same. The picture was the same: an anthropomorphic locomotive puffing up a hill, its cowcatcher wearing a grin, its headlight a cheerful eye.
But the yellow letters across the bottom, Story and Pictures by Beryl Evans, were gone. There was no credit line there at all.
Jake turned the book and looked at the spine. It said Charlie the Choo-Choo and McCauley House, Publishers. Nothing else.
South of them now, the sound of voices. Callahan and his friends, approaching. Callahan from the Calla. Callahan of the Lot, he had also called himself.
"Title page, sugar," Susannah said. "Look there, quick."
Jake did. Once again there was only the title of the story and the publisher's name, this time with a colophon.
"Look at the copyright page," Eddie said.
Jake turned the page. Here, on the verso of the title page and beside the recto where the story began, was the copyright information. Except there was no information, not really.
Copyright 1936, it said. Numbers which added up to nineteen. The rest was blank.
Chapter V: OVERHOLSER
ONE
Susannah was able to observe a good deal on that long and interesting day, because Roland gave her the chance and because, after her morning's sickness passed off, she felt wholly herself again.
Just before Callahan and his party drew within earshot, Roland murmured to her, "Stay close to me, and not a word from you unless I prompt it. If they take you for my sh'veen, let it be so."
Under other circumstances, she might have had something pert to say about the idea of being Roland's quiet little side-wife, his nudge in the night, but there was no time this morning, and in any case, it was far from a joking matter; the seriousness in his face made that clear. Also, the part of the faithful, quiet second appealed to her. In truth, any part appealed to her. Even as a child, she had rarely been so happy as when pretending to be someone else.
Which probably explains all there is about you worth knowing, sugar , she thought.
"Susannah?" Roland asked. "Do you hear me?"
"Hear you well," she told him. "Don't you worry about me."