There was the smell of meat on his breath. Noor could see the shine of a droplet of blood where had gouged his cheek with a fingernail.
The men looked at one another, puzzled.
Without turning, with his face still near Noor’s, Langley said “Don’t I, Freeway?”
“Don’t you what, Langley?”
“Don’t I got dogs?”
“You do? I never seen no dogs.”
Langley turned and punched Freeway in the face. Freeway cried out and threw up his hands and stumbled backwards and sat. He had his hand over his right eye. He said “Ow! Oh! That’s my eye!” Blood ran from his right nostril.
Langley shook his right hand, winced, looked at the back of it, gingerly formed a fist. He said “You got a hard eye, doggy.”
Freeway slid the hand from his eye, which he kept closed. He tried to wipe away the blood, smeared it into his moustache and beard. He said “What? I ain’t no dog.” He moved to get up, but Langley drove him in the forehead with the heel of his boot. Freeway sprawled onto his back.
Langley set about kicking him in the thigh with the toe of his low-cut leather dress boot. He screamed “Bark, doggy! Bark, god damn you!”
Freeway bellowed “Ow, that’s my sore ass!”
“You couldn’t even beat old Frost! Frost’s dogs was better than you! Bark, I said!”
“Arf!”
Langley kept kicking him.
“Arf! Arf! Don’t! Ow! Arf!”
Freeway pushed himself backwards off the trail, flattening a swathe of wet grass, breaking shards of fallen stucco, snapping the bare twigs of bushes. He crossed the warped sidewalk, into a mound of blackberry. Langley kept ordering him to bark, and Freeway kept barking.
Without moving her head Noor looked down at her spear. She glanced sideways. But the men were not watching Langley punish Freeway. They were watching her. The man who held her sword had his other hand on his crotch, against the wool of his shift, slowly rubbing. In his moonlike face the eyes were dark holes. He took a step toward her. The men on either side of him also took a step. Noor turned her head. The soldiers on the other side of the cart were shifting, sliding gradually behind the cart toward her side, and edging around in front of Beauty.
The man with her sword laid its blade on her shoulder. The tip touched her throat.
“Please! Please! Arf! Arf! Ow! No! Arf!”
Then Langley was among the soldiers, screaming. “You run away from Frost! You run away from an old man!” He was swinging indiscriminately. There was the sound of his fists smacking flesh, thumping into shoulders and chests. “What do I feed yous for! What do I get yous women for! Yous can’t even beat an old man!” The soldiers had thrown up arms for protection, were ducking, backing away.
But the man with the sword had not moved, had not even turned his head. He stood there with the sword on Noor’s shoulder, licking his lips, massaging his crotch. Langley snatched the sword from him. He grabbed it by the blade, flipped it, caught the handle. As the man leapt backward Langley swung twice, slashing an X across the man’s shift. The man screamed and ran, hunched, arms clasped over his chest.
Langley dropped the sword, stared at his hand, which was lacerated on the knuckles and bleeding freely from the palm. He turned to Noor. He showed her the hand. He said “Look what you done.” He slapped her.
She staggered but did not blink. She stared back at him. She wiped his blood from her cheek.
The men were well scattered now. It was dark. The rain was coming down harder. Noor and Langley stood face to face beside the trail, under empty windows much blacker than the sky. Beauty had bolted a few steps. She was tossing her head and snorting. In the blackberry vines Freeway was sobbing loudly. The slashed man was whimpering.
Langley said “You know that big buildin’ back there the way you come?”
Noor said nothing.
“It’s a nice buildin’. Nicer than that place of yours. That dump. You know what a dump was? We got meat in our buildin’. We got cordwood. We got real hooch. I keep that buildin’ for my soldiers. That’s where Wing’s women are at. Did you know that?”
He watched for a reaction. He looked down at his bleeding hand, pressed the thumb of his other hand against the wound. He said casually “So here’s your choice, Noor. You can stay in that there buildin’ with Wing’s women and help them keep my men warm at night. Or you can come with me to my place at Skaggers’ Bridge. It’s a nice place. You’ll like it. I got stuff you ain’t even dreamed about.”
Noor said “Grampa’s waitin’ for me.”
“I got medicine. Did you know that pills keep forever? Maybe I could send some to your grampa.”
She said nothing.
Langley was silent for a long time, staring down at the hand, pressing the wound. Finally he said, very quietly “If you was on my side we could own this world.”
She answered less quietly. “I don’t want to own this world.”
“Frost will give me everythin’ to get you back.”
“He’ll give you to the dogs.”
Langley’s reddened cheeks paled instantly. The change was obvious even in the failing light. It was as if he was the one who had been slapped. He walked rapidly away, past Beauty. He called “Get back here! What the hell kind of soldiers are you! You got a prisoner to watch!”
Warily the men began to return. Freeway had stopped sobbing. He was trying to rise, but the blackberry vines would not let go of his poncho.
Langley walked back, stopped at the cart. He found the book under the bag of straw, came back to Noor. He said loudly “Did you know I can read?” He read from the cover. “Emo… Emo… That one’s too big for me. But I got this here one. Wellness. What the hell is wellness? The age of anxiety. That’s a nice word. I like that word. And look at these pretty people. You think that’s what people were like then?”
The soldiers had again encircled them and the horse and the cart. He tossed the book to one of his soldiers. He said, without looking directly at Noor “Tell Frost my proposal is still on. But he’s got to throw in Fundy’s farm now too. I get his place and Fundy’s place, and he gets Wing’s farm. I ain’t going to wait much longer. And if he don’t like the deal, here’s what’s going to happen. Wing’s women are going to start comin’ to visit yous. If you know what I mean.”
Noor stepped away and murmured a few words to Beauty and patted her shoulder. She swung up onto the horse. She held out a hand to receive the spear and the sword, but Langley did not bend to pick them up.
He said “I been patient till now.”
The woman and the horse moved forward.
36
Noor’s grandfather stood in his graveyard, looking across the river with the binoculars. It was a cold sunny morning. On the crudely trimmed grass a film of frost lay on the hundred T-shaped shadows of the grave markers. He said “Yes. I see a woman. She’s in one of the windows on the second floor.” He handed the binoculars to Noor.
She looked, said “That’s not a woman. That’s a girl. It’s Snow. One of Langley’s men is with her.”
Frost looked again, but the window was empty. He lowered the binoculars and put his glasses on and stood there staring across the river. His sword was at his side. At his feet the blade-end of a spear rested on the marker that said Susan.
Noor observed her grandfather. Today he stood more erect than usual and seemed much taller than her. His worried eyes had grown hard and grim. The deep wrinkles around them looked as if they had been carved into cedar.
He said without turning “Wing and his men and kids are moving over to Fundy’s today. They’ll be welcome there. Under the circumstances. Fundy’s women will be willing to forget about religion. The newcomers are going too. Fundy’s got plenty of spuds. The addicts have got to stay here, at least for a while.”