"Why's that?"
"You need to ask? Ever since the Suhl Incident, Germans in Franconia associate everything involving your American railroad people with things they find favorable about you. Well, the farmers and most of the poorer townspeople, anyway. The guild masters aren't too fond of you, of course."
Noelle thought about it, for a moment. "Still seems odd. In every one of those fables I've heard, Brillo's pretty much at odds with TacRail people."
Eddie shrugged. "Yes? So much the better. They like the interchange, you might say. Yes, Brillo is at odds with the railroad people—but it usually gets sorted out in the end, to everyone's reasonable satisfaction. There's a political lesson there, if you think about it."
They walked on a very more steps. Then, Eddie added:
"Your Anse Hatfield is now quite a hero, for many people here in Franconia. Not so much because they think he is one of them, you understand. Just . . . that he is someone strong, whom they can deal with without fear."
Noelle laughed again.
"What's so funny?"
"Without fear! You do know who Anse was named after, don't you?"
Eddie shook his head.
"Ah, wonderful. A whole new set of American fables you need to learn." They'd arrived at the tavern. "But you'll need to brace yourself, first. A stein of beer and a good sandwich. Then I'll tell you about the Hatfield-McCoy feud. And the man they called `Devil Anse Hatfield.'"
On their way back to the print shop, Eddie said to her, "I don't think I'll tell the apprentices about Devil Anse."
"What a good idea."
"Do you have time to ride out with me again, Scott?" Johnnie F. asked. "For a few days, not just a short run."
"Why?"
"Sort of like last fall. I'd just feel easier in my mind if somebody brought along another set of eyes to look at what I think I'm seeing."
"What do you think you see?"
"I'd rather not say. That's why I want fresh eyes."
Franconia, mid-March, 1634
Scott recognized that village. They were up in the back of beyond, it had a funny church tower, and the biggest ram banner he had seen anywhere in Franconia.
His nose was cold. His toes were cold.
"We'll be there," Johnnie F. was saying, "in time for the meeting."
"Johnnie F.," Scott said pleadingly, "will you tell me. Where in hell are we?"
"Right up against the border with Coburg. As far as we can go and still be inside our part of Franconia. The border stones march right along the crest of those hills behind the village; half of its fields are in the USE."
Johnnie F. smiled. "I spent one summer while I was in college in Washington, D.C., you know. Of all stupid-seeming places for an ag major to intern, but I was working for the Forestry Service at the USDA—Department of Agriculture, that is.
"There were reports in the paper all the time. Gangs, shooting at one another. Then jumping into another jurisdiction. Out of D.C. and across the street, into Prince George's County in Maryland. Different jurisdiction; cops come to a screeching halt at the border, the perps thumb their noses and disappear. And so forth. There must have been a dozen little jurisdictions around there, in a space no bigger than the Ring of Fire, really."
"So?"
"So, it's a handy kind of place to be, right on a border. If you think that somebody might be coming after you."
Johnnie F. looked down into the valley, at the village strung out along the creek.
"We'll be going to a meeting, tonight, after we eat. If you just keep quiet, I think that maybe you'll get to meet the Ram. The Big Bad Brillo, himself."
"No Ewegenia?"
Johnnie F. didn't even smile. "No. She's in Bamberg."
Scott looked at him. "You know who she is?"
"Sure," Johnnie F. said mildly. "Once it occurred to me that they had a press in one of the larger cities, it wasn't any real trouble to find out."
"Inclined to tell me?"
"Depends. Do you really need to know?"
Scott was constrained to be quiet, but Johnnie F. hadn't told him not to write notes in school. As soon as the pipes struck up the melody, he scribbled, "Isn't that `America'—you know, `My Country 'tis of Thee'?"
"It was, once upon a time," Johnnie F. scribbled back. "The tune is the same, but the words go off from the second verse, `Our fathers' God to Thee, author of liberty, to Thee we sing' and it's real different."