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then I guess the rest of us'll go along with that."
The two men looked at each other in silence. Ryan spoke first. "My guess is
that we'll probably be leaving young Michael behind here."
"Serve him right." Dean was peeling a ripe pear with his turquoise-hilted
knife.
"You and Michael have really fallen out, haven't you?" Ryan looked at his son.
"Yeah. Gone all big-eyed and wet-mouthed over that straw-head slut."
Krysty pushed back her chair, the legs scraping noisily on the wooden floor.
"Better watch that mouth, Dean," she said, her voice hard and tight with
anger. "Dorothy might be many things, but she's not a slut. You get in the
easy habit of bad-talking all women, and you lose all respect for women.
You'll be calling Mildred and me sluts next."
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"Sorry. But she's trapped Michael into changing. Mebbe she's a witch, Dad."
"No. Michael may have fallen for Dorothy. In love with her. Wouldn't surprise
me. Happens, Dean.
One day it'll even happen to you."
"No way at all!"
They all laughed. Doc leaned back and pushed away his wooden plate. "When the
arrow strikes at the heart, Dean, it will pierce through the strongest
defence. And even the bravest and boldest will fall a helpless captive."
"Not me, Doc!" Dean pulled a face of such appalled repugnance that they all
laughed again.
Ryan got up and looked casually out of the doorway, making sure that none of
the young people of
Quindley were close enough to overhear them.
"You think Michael might remain here, Dean? Think about it. That's a serious
question."
"What if he does, Ryan?" J.B. asked.
"Then he stays. Time came for Jak Lauren to pull out of the endless moving-on.
One day it'll come to all of us." He didn't dare to meet Krysty's eyes. "If
Michael decides that his own personal future lies here with Dorothy, then
that'll be what happens. It's his decision."
Dean nodded. "I think they sort of want to be together, Dad."
"How about us, Ryan?" Mildred had also stood up. "Must go and take a leak in a
minute. Are we going to stay another night or move on while there's light?"
Ryan looked out of the thatched hut, at the range of close-packed wooden
buildings. The narrow lanes of the ville were almost deserted, with most of
the people out in the fields or the forest around.
"Stickies are out there, somewhere. I'm sure of it. We can malce the redoubt
in about a half day or so. Wouldn't want to find us stuck in the evening gloom
in these woods."
"So we wait until dawn, lover?"
"Yeah, Krysty. Move tomorrow at first light. But keep that to ourselves."
"We telling Michael?" Dean asked.
Ryan considered for a few seconds, finally deciding. "No."
THE TEENAGER still hadn't appeared by the end of the afternoon.
Jehu had come by after the dirty plates had been collected to tell them that
the ceremony-that was the word he used-would be beginning an hour after the
sun had set over the western edge of the lake.
Then he had gone, saying something they didn't understand about how he had to
check that all of the osiers had been properly collected and treated.
"Did he say the 'hoosiers' had been collected and treated?" wondered Doc.
"No, the osiers," Mildred snapped. "Osiers, Doc. Branches of willow trees."
"I am familiar with the term, madam. Just that the young man with the absurd
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ponytail doesn't open his mouth properly when he speaks. Anyway, why would
they be wanting the branches of willow trees?"
Nobody could come up with an answer to that question. So the afternoon wore
wearily on.
RYAN AND KRYSTY WALKED out across the causeway onto dry land. Strolling
together along the beach, they ignored the curious glances of the young men
and women working in the allotments and orchards
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The sun had dipped partway below the horizon, leaving a golden carpet that
stretched toward them across the calm water. The storm had eased away,
bringing only a brief shower at around three o'clock, barely enough to lay the
dust.
"Where are they going to do this chilling?" Krysty asked, her dazzling hair
even more bright in the evening fire.
"Don't know. Have to be close, or Moses won't be able to get to see it. And I
can't imagine anything happening in this sick place without his knowing all
about it."
"Look."
A hundred yards ahead of them, emerging from the sable shadows at the edge of
the pine forest, were Michael and Dorothy, hand in hand.
"Young lovers," Ryan said flatly.
When they saw Ryan and Krysty, the couple hesitated, exchanging a few hurried
words. Then they approached.
"Fine sunset," Krysty said.
"Yeah. It is." Michael looked unhappy. "Is...is your neck feeling okay, Ryan?"
"My neck?"
"Yeah. You still got that bit of bandage on it from the mutie creature in the
ghost town."
Ryan's wound had healed so well that he'd almost completely forgotten it. Once
in the night he had woken with a brief stab of flaring pain, but it had
quickly passed. He lifted a hand to touch the place.
"Feels fine, thanks. How are you?"
All four of them were suddenly aware that the question hadn't been a simple,
polite one, that Ryan was asking the teenager how he really was.
"Better. Think that the last jump, and the ghost town, sort of moved my brain
around loose inside my head. You know how it can be, Ryan."
"Sure do."
"But you are feeling better now, aren't you, Michael?" Dorothy asked, not
letting go of his hand.
"Sure. Lots."
"That's good." Krysty looked beyond them, along the dark strand, vanishing
toward the north. "Can any of you smell smoke at all?"
Ryan paused, concentrating. "Could be. Probably the cooking fires from the
ville."
Krysty shook her head. "No. Not wood burning. I'm sure there's gas, as well."
"We didn't see anything in the trees, did we, Dorothy?" Michael said.
"Depends on what you mean by anything." She wasn't able to control a
suggestive giggle.
Michael blushed and pulled his hand away from hers. "You know what I mean," he
snarled, angry at his own obvious embarrassment. "No fires or anything."
"All right, sweetness. Sorry if I upset you. You know I'd do anything not to
do that."
She laid a hand on his arm, then stretched up and kissed him softly on the
mouth, her blond hair
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their faces.
"You going to the ceremony, Michael?"
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