Ring of Fire II(217)

At the edge of the forest, on a small rise, he paused to let the wagons go by. Then, drawing out an eyeglass, scanned the area behind them.



Nothing, so far as he could tell.



He was about to put the eyeglass away when his lingering animosity caused him to bring it back up and study the wagon they'd left behind, the way a man might foolishly scratch an itch, knowing he'd do better to leave it alone. It was still quite visible, being less than half a mile distant.



The only good thing was that at least they'd left the road by then and been making their way across a large meadow toward the forest when the wagon axle broke. Janos had ridden back to the road while the up-timers squabbled to see if the wagon was visible from there. The terrain was flat, but there was enough in the way of trees and shrubbery and tall grass to hide it from the sight of anyone just passing along the road—at least, to anyone on foot the way most travelers on that small country road would be. Someone on horseback would be able to spot it, if they were scanning the area.



Other than that . . .



What a mess. He'd tried to get the up-timers to repack the wagon with the goods they were leaving behind, so that if someone should happen to come across it they might assume the owners had just gone off to get assistance. If so, they'd either go about their business or—better still—they'd plunder the unguarded wagon. In the latter eventuality, of course, they'd hardly bring the attention of the authorities to their own thievery.



But, no. Careless in this as in seemingly all things, the up-timers had simply strewn the goods about. Anyone who came across it now would assume that foul play had transpired.



Nothing for it, though. Sighing, he started to put the eyeglass away. Then, catching a glimpse of motion in the corner of his eye, looked back again.



Two horsemen were approaching the wagon. Not locals, either, since each of them was leading a pack horse.



He brought the glass back up. But even before he looked through it, he could see the flashing gleams coming from one of the riders. That had to be armor, reflecting the sun.





"What the hell are you doing?" asked Noelle.



Eddie shook his head and finished untying the cuirass from his pack horse. "You said it yourself, remember? 'That's got to be them!' Very excited, you were."



He started putting on the cuirass. "Do us both a favor and hand me the helmet."



When she just kept staring at him, Eddie looked up at her. "Think, Noelle. These are 'villains,' remember? Not likely to surrender simply because we yell 'stop, thief!' "



She stared back in the direction they'd spotted the wagon. Then, put her hand on the pistol holstered to her hip. "I thought . . ."



"Have to do everything myself," Eddie grumbled. Now that he'd gotten on the cuirass, he took the helmet from the pack. "I remind you of two things. First, you can't shoot straight. Second, while I can—"



He finished strapping the helmet on and started clambering back onto his horse. An awkward business, that was, wearing the damn cuirass. Eddie was trained in the use of arms and armor, but only to the extent that the son of a wealthy merchant would be. He was no experienced cavalryman.



"While I can," he continued, now drawing the rifle from its saddle holster, "you will perhaps recall that due to Carol Unruh's penny-pinching, the only up-time weapon I was allotted was this pitiful thing."



Noelle studied the rifle. "It's a perfectly good Winchester lever action rifle." A bit righteously: "Model 94. They say it's a classic."



"A 'classic,' indeed." Eddie chuckled. "The gun was manufactured almost half a century before the Ring of Fire. Still, I'll allow that it's a sturdy weapon. But it's only a .30-30, it has no more than six cartridges in the magazine, and while—unlike you—I can hit something at a respectable range, I'm hardly what you'd call a Wild Bill Hitchcock."



"Hickok," she corrected. "Hitchcock was the guy who made the movies." She looked back in the direction of the wagon. There still didn't seem to be anyone moving about, over there. "You really think . . ."



He shrugged, planting the butt of the rifle on his hip and taking up the reins. "I have no idea how they will react. What I do know is that if they see a man in armor demanding that they cease and desist all nefarious activity, they are perhaps a bit more likely to do so. I'd just as soon avoid another gunfight at the Okie Corral, if we can.



" 'OK,' she corrected. 'Okies' are sorta like hillbillies."



"And will you desist the language lesson?" he grumbled. "Now. Shall we about be it?"



Noelle hesitated, for a moment. She considered riding back to Hof and trying—