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"Should make it before the passes snow up, if we push 'em," Jed said.
He absently popped the lash of the riding quirt thonged to his wrist. Ingolf shrugged.
"That'll wear on them. And you're not pla
"Oh, Black Void, no. They'd be nearly as many all up as the free women on Rippling Waters then. That'd be trouble, 'specially at first, give 'em too much chance to dream up something bad together. We'll swap at least half for livestock. Our range on Rippling Waters can carry a lot more than we've got, good grass goin' to waste."
Ingolf looked at him in surprise; a cowherd could double every three years. Jed caught the glance and explained:
"We've had a couple of bad winters, and lost some to lobo-wolves and tigers, more of the damn things every season. There've been too many prime hands away fightin' to ride guard proper or to cut enough field hay. A healthy woman who knows weaving and cheesemaking or leather work will fetch ten good breeding an' milking heifers or twenty steers, easy. That's why I let the Runamuk and Sweet Grass boys take most of the stock from here; easier to get one gal home than twenty cow-beasts."
Ingolf smiled like a wolf. "That may have been true before your war with Deseret ended, but now the prices you get for everything you took will go down, sure as sure, with so much loot chasing the livestock. And the women will eat every day, and some of them will die and leave you with nothing for your trouble. Selling some to me now means you don't have to try and move them in a glutted market… and the bullion you get you can carry on one packhorse and lend out at interest until prices for livestock drop again."
Jed grunted, pulling at his beard and looking as if he'd tasted something sour. Ingolf had explained his bargaining strategy to Rudi, and it was based on the Cutters' wants, just as a real trader's would be. In the end, cattle and sheep and horses were the only wealth that was really real to the plainsmen…
"Well, hell, Mr. Vogeler, you're makin' me feel guilty at unloading any of 'em on you," Jed said dryly. "Mebbe I should pay you to take 'em off my hands."
Ingolf shrugged. "Newcastle's a city. There are plenty of workshops there, and farms around it, and police and a town wall to keep order. We make a lot of stuff for the Sioux and for trade-they buy our buffalo-hide shields and our bows as far east as Nebraska-and we can make more if we get more hands. Hell, if you could sell us men, we could use them in the coal mines and the lamp-oil works."
"Which means you can afford to pay more than my neighbors for the gals."
"But they're not worth as much to you, which is what matters in a bargain. If I push on to Twin Falls, I'll get what I need even cheaper; I can buy from the Church's officials, or your army quartermasters. And you're not selling me the best you have here and you know it. Come on, Mr. Smith, make it worth my while to turn back now and save an extra two weeks' travel."
"You'll get a lot more than forty-five dollars each when you get home," Smith pointed out.
"On the ones who live; some won't," Ingolf said with an air of patience. "Plus there's the tax to the Oceti Sakowin, and the cost of transport, food, depreciation on working stock and those wagons I want to buy from you, and my men's wages… I'll give you fifteen each for all twenty-five and that's generous. They're none of them as good quality as the one we've already bought. And I should get a bulk purchase discount-"
Rudi had been avoiding looking at the women who waited, mostly in stolid silence beside the little bundles of food and spare clothes that would go with them, many with children clutching at their skirts. A few of the women wept, but the children were too frightened, and most of their mothers looked like they'd used up a lifetime's tears. They all glanced back at Picabo, though, as a party of young Cutters came through the gate, whooping and shoving one another in rough horseplay. Edain and Rebecca were in their midst, and they both looked as though a wagon had just run over their puppy.
No, Edain does, Rudi thought. Rebecca looks more like a queen surrounded by oafs, and walks like it. She's a fine brave girl… no, a fine woman, and no mistake… but perhaps not the best person to impersonate a slave.
Jed and Ingolf turned from their leisurely bargaining. They listened to the story-told in bits and pieces by excited youngsters-and the older Cutter's scowl would have done credit to a summertime thunderhead.
"You damned pup!" he said after a moment, and snatched his hat off. He looked as if he'd like to hit Jack with it again, too. "What're you thinking of, playing grab-ass with someone else's property? And these folks are guests in our camp, under the Prophet's protection, too! You're a disgrace to the Rippling Water brand!"
"It was a little forward of her ass he grabbed," Lin put in, and then subsided at a look.
Behind him Odard looked at Ingolf and Rudi, his brows fractionally raised. The man from Wisconsin shook his head very slightly, and Rudi flicked his eyes in agreement. If the "Sioux Chief" intervened, there was no telling how things might go-probably back to a duel to the death between the two young men.
For once Jack wasn't backing down from his uncle's anger; he certainly looked determined enough. He flushed at the Rancher's insult, but stood straight and went on doggedly:
"Uncle Jed, she hit me. In front of everybody! And he didn't do anything but try to face me down! Am I supposed to let a slave gal hit me like that, or a stranger walk on me?"
Jed spat disgustedly just before the pointed toes of Jack's tooled-leather boots and then waved him aside. He lowered his voice as he spoke to Ingolf:
"Mr. Vogeler, I'm sorrier than I can say about this. I can't make the pup apologize… not even if they were still fixing to fight serious. As it is, though… well, if the arrow hits your bought gal, I'll give you two of ours in recompense, and you can pick which. And Jack's going to pay for it, you can bet on that!"
Rudi walked over to Edain. "What happened?" he said quietly. "Beyond the obvious."
"Father Wolf be my witness, Chief, I just challenged the filthy scabhteara to a shooting match!" Edain whispered frantically. "I figured I'd be sure to beat him at that, but it would be even odds with cold steel. It was those sodding bastards who had the idea about the apple!"
The brown-haired Cutter named Lin cleared his throat as his comrades and others of the Rippling Waters men gathered around, letting their preparations drop.
"Hear the terms of this shoot!" he said, trying to be formal. "Eddie here can shoot three arrows. If he misses the apple and the gal with all three, then our own Jack gets the gal, or Eddie pays him forty-five dollars cash money. If he hits the gal, then he and his bear the loss 'cause he isn't as good a shot as he claimed. If he hits the apple, then Jack has to pay him forty-five dollars fine for groping his bought gal and being a natural-born stupid dumb fuck as we all know he is."
"Fuck you, Lin!"
"Not while there's sheep on Rippling Waters, Jack," Lin said cheerfully. "They smell better'n you, too. Let the fun begin!"
"No help for it, then." Rudi studied the younger Mackenzie's face. "Ground and center. No, I mean it, clansman! Breathe in-breathe out. Slow and steady."
Edain obeyed, and a little of the gray tightness left his face as he controlled lungs and heart.
"I don't know if I can do it," he said, and held up his hand.
There was a slight quiver to it.
"You can," Rudi said. "You're the laddie who won the Silver Arrow younger than any before you, and then beat me for it the next year!"
Edain's grimace showed his teeth. "That was just a target!"
"And this is just a target," Rudi said, and forced all sympathy out of his voice; if he couldn't banish fear, he'd have to make Edain use it. "And that's what you're going to do, because you must. Invoke Them… and then get out there and let the gray goose fly, clansman!"