“There’s a pack of prairie wolves causing trouble down by Swan Prairie,” one man told us. “Watch your horses, if you’re heading that way.”
Wash nodded. “Thanks for the tip.”
“You’re welcome. Safe journey, Wash, ladies.” The man touched his hat brim to Professor Torgeson and me and rode off. A large young man on a chestnut horse took his place almost immediately. He asked about our route, and looked put out when Wash said we were swinging south to the Oak River settlement before we headed back west and north.
“Blast it, I was hoping you were heading straight for the Raptor Bay settlement,” he said. “Isn’t that normally your first stop?”
“Not this year,” Wash said. “We’re for Oak River first, then west and north until we get to St. Jacques.”
“Ah.” The rider frowned, then hesitated. “So you won’t be passing near Raptor Bay at all?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” Wash drawled. “I think we’ll be near enough to drop a letter by, though perhaps not as soon as you’d like.”
The young man flushed slightly. “Would you? There’s supposed to be a supply carrier going out in another week, but you know what they’re like — it’d take a message weeks to arrive, if the wagon master even remembers to deliver it. And if I leave without sending word, it could be months before I get another chance.”
Wash laughed. “Shipping barges do make stops,” he said. “And even if your captain is in a tearing hurry, he’ll overnight in St. Louis.”
“Well, I know, but —”
“Give me the letters, Charlie, and I’ll see that your parents and your girl get them in as reasonable an amount of time as I can manage,” Wash said.
“Thanks, Wash!” The young man pulled some folded-over papers out of his pocket and handed them over. Then he bobbed his head at Professor Torgeson and me, and rode off.
“Wash! Mr. Morris!”
A little shiver went down my spine, and I felt a cool spot against my chest. I turned to see a pretty black woman standing on the boardwalk, waving. She was a few years older than me, with warm brown skin the color of the smooth bark on a young maple tree. Like most of the folks in West Landing, she wore a tan duster buttoned up close. Three inches of calico ruffle and a pair of neat high-button boots showed at the bottom. The tall black man next to her made a what-can-you-do-with-her? motion. He had left his duster open, and I could make out a gray work jacket and trousers under it.
Wash’s mouth quirked, and he rode over. “Morning, Miss Porter, George.”
“This is a nice surprise,” the woman said. “You usually come through West Landing in March. Or have you been gone and come back once already this year?”
“No, ma’am,” Wash said. “It’s an unusual year.”
“How long will you be in town?”
“I’m afraid we’re leaving this morning.” Wash made a little movement with his free hand to indicate the professor and me.
“Then I shouldn’t keep you. Safe journey — but next time you’re through town, try to make time to visit us.”
“Mother would love to see you,” the man with her said, nodding. “But not if she finds out Elizabeth has been accosting you on the street like a fancy woman.”
“George! I did no such thing,” Miss Porter said. “Besides, Mother won’t mind if it’s Mr. Morris.”
George and Wash exchanged a look over her head, then Wash touched his hat and rode back to us.
It kept on like that all the way through West Landing. Some of the folks who came over to chat with Wash asked to be introduced to the professor and me, but most of them just tipped their hats to us before they rode off. It took us nearly an hour to get through the main part of town.
Once we got out of West Landing at last, Wash and Professor Torgeson started up a conversation about how to manage the survey we were supposed to be doing. The professor wanted to stop and take samples right off, but Wash pointed out that most of the things this close to the Mammoth River had already been collected. Also, if we did too much stopping and starting, we wouldn’t make it to the first wagonrest by nightfall.
They talked over various ways to go on, with me listening hard with both ears the whole time. I didn’t have much to add, but if I was going to help the professor, I had to know what I was supposed to do. Eventually, they settled on using the wagonrests as base camps, at least while we were still close to the Mammoth River. We’d stay for a day or two when the professor wanted to collect samples and make observations, and move on when she finished.
Once we got past the middle settlements, though, there wouldn’t be any wagonrests. “That,” said Wash, “is when things will get interesting.”
Professor Torgeson pursed her lips. “In Vinland, when we use the term interesting in connection with the mainland, it usually means something like ‘you’ll have to watch that a short-faced bear doesn’t get your supplies, and maybe you’ or ‘a pack of dire wolves was hunting a unicorn in that area last week; if they didn’t catch it, they’re probably hungry enough to go after you and your horses.’ Is it the same here?”
Wash laughed. “Pretty much, except it’s plains creatures we’ll need to keep an eye for.”
“Steam dragons and saber cats and so on,” the professor said, nodding. “I know them in theory, but I haven’t seen many in life, and I certainly haven’t met up with any in their natural environment.”
“If it’s all the same to you, Professor, I’d as soon we didn’t meet up with any of those particular critters this trip, either,” Wash said.
“If nobody ever gets a look at them, we’ll never find out what to do about them,” Professor Torgeson said tartly. “Look at what happened to that expedition back in 1850 — they’d all have been eaten by swarming weasels if that one fellow hadn’t gotten off a lucky shot and killed the swarm leaders. None of them knew that weasel swarms had leaders.”
“It wasn’t just luck!” I said before I thought. “Brant’s mother kept bees; he said the way the weasels moved reminded him of the bees, so he looked for something like a queen bee and shot that.”
“Eh?” Professor Torgeson looked at me. “And how do you know that, Miss Rothmer?”
“Brant Wilson married my sister Rennie,” I said. “Later on, I mean. He and Dr. McNeil came to our house after the expedition got back. My brothers were mad after stories about what they’d seen, so they told us all about it.”
“Pity the whole tale didn’t get into the journal accounts,” the professor said.
“Maybe Dr. McNeil thought it would mislead people,” I said. “Swarming weasels aren’t really that much like swarming bees, and the swarm leaders certainly aren’t queens.”
“Yes, but the similarity in movement may be important. Someone should look into the reason why, but if no one knows about it, no one will think to investigate.”
“It’s kind of hard to investigate a mob of critters that are trying to eat you,” Wash pointed out.
“Which is why the first thing we need to learn is how to keep them from getting interested in eating us,” the professor replied. “So that we can watch and learn. The magicians in New Asante have proven it can be done; if we apply their methods —”
“I can’t rightly claim to be up-to-date on exactly what the New Asante conjurefolk are doing, but Aphrikan ways of spell working don’t generally mix well or easily with Avrupan-style magic,” Wash said in a very dry tone.
“I’m sure that if —” Professor Torgeson broke off, looking at Wash as if it had only just occurred to her that he might know a bit more about Aphrikan magic than she did. “It never hurts to consider new methods,” she said after a moment.