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It would have been a remarkably pleasant-looking place after weeks of short rations and fear, but…
Nystrup slid into place beside him. "It's one of our settlements," he said without preliminaries. "About two hundred and fifty people, and it was the center for some outlying ranches; the last big thing to happen here was moving a bunch of people up from Pocatello right after the Change, part of our resettlement program. I don't know how it's fared just recently."
A warm breeze stirred across the land, raising dust devils. It fluttered out a flag from the pole atop the gate tower; a many-rayed sunburst, gold on crimson. The ba
"Well, that answers the question as to how they've fared," Rudi said. "Not well. Ritva, keep watch."
His half sister settled in behind a clump of gray-green rabbitbrush, a tall shaggy plant that had clumps of yellow flowers and smelled like a sweaty saddle. She went still beneath her war cloak; even at only a few feet, and knowing where she was, Rudi found her hard to see.
He eeled backwards on his belly until they were well out of sight before standing. Nystrup turned and made an arm signal; by the time they were back at their cold camp most of the Mormon guerillas were there too, leaving only the minimum perimeter of lookouts.
Rudi glanced at Ingolf. The Easterner shook his head. "I passed a lot farther south than this, when I came west. Around Bear Lake."
"We can swing around them," Mary said. "Move south, then back north to cut the road again."
Rudi shook his head in turn. "We're out of food and we haven't been able to hunt much," he said. "I don't know how they've been able to press us so hard… but they have. We've spent more time covering our tracks than ru
Silence fell; they were hungry, in the way you could only get when you combined not enough food with working hard. Several of the wounded Mormons had died; the hale members of their band weren't weakened much… yet.
But we don't have much time before we are, Rudi thought unhappily. And the horses are losing condition. I wouldn't like to have to rely on them if we had a ru
They might have been able to make more progress if they'd kept all the food they'd had and cut the Mormons loose immediately. On the other hand, that would probably have been bad luck as well as wrong. .. if there was a difference.
Ingolf rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, the cropped beard scritching under his callused fingers. The sight made Rudi's face itch slightly and he consciously stopped himself from imitating the gesture; he hadn't been able to shave for the past week, and the silky stubble was a
"You know, we haven't seen any sheep or cattle or horses around here. But the range has obviously been grazed. Until lately, at least," Ingolf said.
"There's stock in the corrals," Rudi said. "And a lot of horses. Hundred, hundred and thirty."
"That would mean fifty or sixty Cutter levies," Ingolf replied. "The Cutter soldiers are mainly Ranchers, or even Rovers"-which meant nomad, more or less-"not full-time fighters like the Sword of the, umm, false prophet. They get hives if they don't have at least one remount for every fighting man. It makes them feel pi
Nystrup sighed. "We were always being surprised by how fast they could move, and how many men they could throw at us," he acknowledged. "It hurt us, and more than once."
"The Church calls them up to fight when they're needed," Ingolf said. "A ranch isn't like a farm-the old people and kids and women can keep it going pretty well for quite a while, at a pinch. Cowboys can make most of their own war gear, too, and their ordinary work is damned good training to fight."
"Besides the horses there were six or seven hundred sheep, maybe half that number of cattle," Rudi went on.
"Not as much as there should be," Nystrup replied. "I've never been here myself, but from the reports and the taxes they paid and the way it looks, this is good land."
Ingolf made a gesture of agreement. "I'd say what's likely happened is that a couple of ranches' or Rover bands' worth of levies hit the place just recently, on their way home. Some of them have already left with part of the stock. The ones there now plan to loot it bare before they leave-they're shorter on craft-workers than you Saints are and they're always short of tools and so forth likewise. I'd say they're about halfway through the process here in… Peekaboo?"
"Yes," Nystrup said grimly. "We counted on that, their being backwards, too much during the war, and on their absurd superstitions about gears and machinery." He looked at Ingolf shrewdly. "You have an idea?"
"Sort of. We have to know what's going on in there, and if we can get some supplies and fresh horses for your people, Captain. It would take a pitched battle to fight for them, and we're not in shape for a stand-up fight, and they outnumber us. But if we send in some people who can pass for… oh, I don't know, merchants from one of the Plains towns come West to buy up plunder, that sort of thing. There are a few places like that in the Sioux country, tributary to the tribes. Then we could buy what we need. Last I heard, the CUT and the Sioux had made peace."
"We don't have much contact with the Sioux," Nystrup said. "The CUT was always between us and them. Most of the Indians in new Deseret are… were… friendly and part of our Church. I don't think any of my people could fool the Cutters."
"Well, I've had a lot of contact with the Lakota tribes," Ingolf said, with a lopsided smile. "Mostly not too friendly, as in, contact with their arrows and shetes and tomahawks. That was my first war, when our Bossman in Richland sent men to help the Republic of Marshall fight 'em. And later when I was working for some traders in the Nebraska country, I rode guard on a caravan they sent out West, to Newcastle, and I got caught there for the winter. There was this girl
… anyway, I can't pass for a Sioux, but I think I could buffalo outsiders who'd never seen the place into supposing I came from that town."
Rudi felt a broad smile growing. "Sure, and that is an idea. You think it's possible?"
"Like I said, most of the Cutter levies are just cowboys, or a few are farmers or townsmen," Ingolf said. "Yeah, they believe in that crazy religion-or say they do, if they're smart, anywhere Corwin controls- and they're suspicious of outsiders, but they're just… men, otherwise. I saw a fair number the first time I was a prisoner of theirs; they let me out a bit once I'd convinced them I'd swallowed their line of bullshit."
"Well, if we were to try it, certainly you'd have to be one of our spies," Rudi said musingly. He looked around. "Their leader, in fact. I'd be another…"
Ingolf spoke again: "Three or four men would be the maximum. No less, though. Corwin makes a big noise about how safe their territory is for traders, but nobody travels with a lot of cash all by himself. And there should be a woman-a Mormon woman."
Rudi blinked. "Why?"
"Camo-cover, Rudi. We'd be refugee-traders as well as buying loot in general."
"Slaves, the Cutters call them, don't they? It seems a bit too honest for them."
"Refugees is the word out East, and some places allow that sort of thing; everyone's always short of working hands. Say four men and ten, twelve horses-we'd have the horses to carry stuff. We'd be pretty popular, too; coin's a lot easier to transport, and they'd want to change some of what they've taken into hard cash."