Table of Contents – (spoilers)
Babs’ place was just down the hump in the Bristle Hollow, not so far from Shasta’s. It was a little up the hill from the creek on a wide, good trail. As they were heading up from the creek to the place, Babs reined up.
“Okay, before we head on up, I got a couple of things I thought ye should know,” she said. “Balan was on the Spitzer road yesterday, coming back empty.”
Babs’ husband, Balan, who the squad had yet to meet, was a teamster who drove the lumber wagons between Bristlehump and Spitzer, along with their two eldest sons.
“Now, who d’ye reckon they run into on the road, riding like a bat outta hell for Spitzer?” Babs asked.
“Sneed and his boys?” Peep asked.
“You got it!”
“How many boys was it?”
“The three he’s had with him,” Babs answered.
“What time was that?”
“Balan reckons Sneed musta lit outta Bristlehump just after lunch for them to run into him when they did.”
“Okay, so if he changed horses and turned right around, how soon d’ye reckon he could get back to Bristlehump?” asked Peep.
“He coulda got back by the middle of this morning, if he kept a fire lit under his ass and rode hard all night. That aint easy, but it can be done.”
“The lumber wagons, how long does it take them to do it?”
“Loaded down, a full two days,” said Babs.
“Right. There’s that camp by the road halfway between here and Spitzer. When’s the next bunch of empty wagons getting back?” asked Peep.
“Well, they aint running but two convoys these days, so the other one’ll be getting back some time tomorrow, probably.”
“So there’s no way to know when Sneed was on the road coming back. We have to assume he’s here,” Pinch said.
“Well, if he is, he’s gonna be tired as all hell,” Babs said.
“I’m sure that never stopped him from doing evil. He doesn’t seem the type to take it easy,” Peep said.
“Yeah, that’s probably so,” Babs agreed.
“Well, we appreciate the information. That is good to know. But ye coulda just told us that up at the church. Why bring us to yar place?” Peep asked.
“I told ye, I wanted to throw a feed on for ye. Figured ye could use a good one after the last few days ye had. And with Balan and the boys home, and young Gabe back safe from his adventures with ye, I thought this would be the best time to show ye our gratitude.”
“Okay. Thank ye. And that’s it?” Peep asked, having sensed Babs had more on her mind.
“No. It aint. There is something else. But I’ll let Balan get into that with ye. Let’s head on up.”
The church property that Babs’ family were tenants of was a good one. It was next to a small spring from which Babs got the water for her excellent ale. They had a large cottage with a small barn and a big shed for the brewing. The shed had an extended roof on one side to cover Babs’ ale barrels.
Babs’ husband Balan was sitting in the yard near a big firepit (presently without a fire). He was enjoying an ale with his two eldest sons, while his teenage daughter worked behind the brew shed preparing for the malting. Balan introduced himself and his sons and invited the squad cordially to his home, offering Peep his seat. Once everyone was seated, Babs got them all an ale. Then she barked at her three boys to get busy with the malting while she and her daughter prepared lunch.
Balan was a big man who seemed tough as all hell, having spent his whole life driving mule teams through the rough country of Spaggot Barony. Even so, he had a quiet way about him, as the husbands of big, loud, brassy women often do.
“Well, it’s been a busy week for ye, aint it? Lots of goings on,” Balan said once he and the squad were all comfortably settled in.
“Yes, sir. It has been eventful,” Pinch said, when both Choke and Peep declined to answer.
“Now about all that,” Balan said, looking very serious. “Ye understand who we are around here, yeah? We’re teamsters. All of us. Through and through.”
“So we understand, sir. And we want you, and all proper teamsters to know, that we have no quarrel with you good people. Our troubles are with those evil men that call themselves the Outfit,” Choke said.
“Well said, Brother Bartholomew. Thank ye for it. And I will say on behalf of my people and, I reckon, all good men like us, that we feel likewise towards you. Babs has told us about the fracas in Strana that led ye to this trouble with the Outfit. And all I’ll say on the matter is that I don’t mind it.”
“Thank you, sir. We appreciate that very much,” Choke said.
“Call me, Balan, Brother Bartholomew.”
“Thank you, Balan.”
“Now, that is the history of this trouble that followed ye here to our homes. But, and I am sorry to say it… but… as an upstanding Stronian member of this community who, I am embarrassed to say, I am told, is well regarded as a steady and reasonable man by its good folk, I need some things cleared up about what happened at Rodolf and Victor’s place the day before last. Some of what happened there may not be sitting well with some of the folks around here, and I wanted to give ye the chance to have yar say on that and maybe clear things up. If you are so inclined, of course,” Balan finished with a deep nod to the squad.
“Of course we would like to speak to you about that, Balan,” Choke said. “On Wednesday morning, when we rode by their farm, we noticed a woman signaling the bandits who were hidden in ambush in the windbreak behind their cowshed. We engaged the bandits and killed them all. Then, we led more bandits, who had been up on the South Hill, into an ambush of our own and killed most of them. Having done all that, we went back to the farm to press the peasants there on their involvement with the bandits. The women who had signaled them, Neva, I believe her name was, as well as her husband, Victor, were quite hostile to us.”
“Yes, that’s what we gathered. Neva had kin amongst them that ye killed. So… who was it that split her lip and knocked out her tooth?” Balan asked, looking to Peep as he did.
“I did that, Balan. With this,” Peep presented her steel Stronian ring to him in a slow backhanded motion. “She called me a bandit hoor, in language quite a bit less flattering than that. Then, once I slapped her for it, her husband attacked me. So I cut him up a bit. Then I asked Stron to heal him a little, so’s he wouldn’t die. The prick didn’t go on and die anyways, did he?”
“No. He did not. Still laid up with the wounds ye gave him, though.”
“Well, that’s okay,” Peep said with a smile.
“That’s probably so. Neva has been known to run her mouth to excess, so there are some that might think a split lip is long overdue,” Balan said.
“And would ye be one of them people?” Peep asked.
“Don’t reckon I’d care to have it known clear in the light of day, one way or the other, if it’s all the same to ye’s, Miss Otilla.”
“Well, then, I guess those that credit ye with being a steady and reasonable man have ye figured rightly, Balan,” Peep smiled.
“Well thank ye for that, Miss Otilla,” Balan nodded deeply her way. Then he turned back to Choke: “So after Victor and his missus received their correction, then what happened?”
“Well, we threatened to take Neva to Barrelmender to hold her responsible for helping the bandits. That’s when Rodolf told us everything he knew, and we took him instead. He gave his evidence to Barrelmender lawfully and was killed for it. And that’s about that, I think,” Choke said.
“I reckon so. I reckon so. Good enough for me and mine, I’d say. But, ye should know that we’re good Stronians in this house. Most around here have slipped from that path to wander…” Balan paused to think of a proper word. Peep filled in the blank for him:
“To wander free in the fields of cunny.”
Balan had a chuckle at this. “Yes, I reckon so. My point being, that ye shouldn’t expect the average folk around here to take your side on what happened to Rodolf and Victor and their folk.”
“Oh, we know that. But so long as they keep to themselves about it, we’ll continue to get along with them just fine,” Peep said.
“Good. Good,” Balan nodded. “Now, as to why I’ve asked ye here. It concerns yar troubles with the Outfit. I’m here to serve as host for someone that wants a parlay with ye. On account of how out of hand things have gotten. He’s here on good faith with peaceful intent. And I’ll put my name on that. If ye’ll swear to hear him out in peace and good faith, I’ll put my name on yar word to him.”
“Who’s here?” Peep asked.
“Lead foreman at our yard: Bob.”
The squad all exchanged a significant look at this.
“Bob? He didn’t seem too friendly towards us when last we spoke,” Peep said.
“Well, I dunno about that. I can’t speak to that. So that’s something ye should take up with him, I reckon.”
“And Sneed? He aint anywhere around on this, is he?”
“That one? I wouldn’t put my good name to anything I thought he was anywheres near. It’s just Bob. And for him, I’ll vouch.”
“Well, that’s good enough for me, Balan,” Peep said.
“Indeed,” Choke said. “You have our word. We will listen to him in good faith.”
“Alright, then. We’ll go on up to him. He’s at our night camp, just up past the spring. Follow me, please.”
Balan led them up past the tiny spring creek with its little dammed pool where Shasta drew her ale water from. In the woods there was a lovely campsite with log chairs and benches around a fine, big firepit with large rocks built up like a hearth. Bob the teamster foreman was waiting for them there.
“All right,” Balan said. “Now I’ve had all yar words that ye’ll conduct yarselves peacefully here. So shame to any that break the peace. And I’d have ye know that, simple man that I am, with no clear recourse to any of ye’s that would break yar word to me, that I regard this place as my own home as much as I do our kitchen hearth. I’d not have blood spilled here by those who gave me their word to keep the peace. So, as the host of this parlay, I’d reckon I’ve said my piece on that. Anyone got anything so say?”
“Well said, and well understood, Balan. Thank you, sir,” Choke said.
“Yeah. I got it. Thanks,” Bob said.
“Alright then. I’ll leave ye to it. When yar all done, ye can come on down for lunch.”
With this, Balan went back down the short trail to the cottage.
“Okay. I guess we should have a seat, then,” Bob said, gesturing to the five seats he had arranged in a circle.
“Thank you, sir,” Choke said. He and the others took their seats.
Bob took a glass bottle of amber liquid from a shoulder bag next to his seat as he sat down. He broke the wax seal on the cork and took a swig. Then he handed the bottle across the gap to Choke, who sighed before taking a sip of the burning strong liquor. He passed the bottle to Peep, who then passed it to Knuckle, who finally passed it to Pinch. Bob recorked the bottle once it made its way back around to him.
“Oh, that’s the good stuff,” Pinch rasped. “That aint brandy. We had that before once, in Strana. What’s it called?”
“This is called whiskey. Not the proper from Galea, but close enough. They take that corn mash potato wine and age it in barrels. For years. It’s good stuff. And not cheap,” Bob said.
“We thank you for sharing it with us, Bob. So, how can we help you today?” Choke said.
“Well, Bartholomew, I just wanted to have a word with all of ye. So’s we understand each other and where we all stand in this mess we find ourselves in. So there aren’t any unfortunate misunderstandings going forward.”
“I quite appreciate that, Bob. So, where is it you stand in this mess?” Choke asked.
“Well, first off, I’m a fuckin teamster. Ye bust me open, ye’d probably find more ox and mule shit and dirt in me than guts. I don’t mind saying it. And I’m a teamster boss. That’s me. Through and through.”
Bob paused here to uncork his bottle and take another long pull. Then he held the bottle out into the middle space for whoever wanted to take it. Choke, and then Peep, declined with an upraised hand. Knuckle took the bottle, took a swig, and offered it to Pinch, who declined. When he had his bottle back from Knuckle, Bob corked it before continuing:
“Man, I been running men that run freight for so many years it sometimes feels like that’s all I ever done. I remember once, there was this fuckin ox cart driver. And him and me, well, we didn’t see eye to eye. And he decided he was gonna quit. And that’s fine. But he didn’t want it to be fine. So he went and took a heavy wagon with a full ox team and load of logs and he run it out onto a muddy floodplain of the river. Went in fast and hard and whipped them sons a bitches as hard as he could. Sank that motherfucker into the mud past the axles. Right to the motherfuckin deck. Took the better part of a week and a whole three other teams to get that all outta there.”
Bob paused again for him and Knuckle to have another swig. Then he went on:
“So, anyways, the day he done it, I hear about it and come down to the river to see what the fuck is going on. And that motherfucker is standing there on the fuckin riverbank, grinning at me like a fuckin cretin goblin. And I’m so fuckin choked I can’t barely spit, but I still says to him: ‘What the fuck did ye do this for?’ And ye know what he says to me? I’ll never forget it. He says, ‘Why? Because fuck you, that’s why.’”
This time, Bob paused without a whiskey break. He just sat, lost in the moment, with the ghost of that day’s rage haunting his features.
“Well, I kicked that motherfucker in the balls until his asshole bled. Yeah… I started up kicking, and when he went down I just kept on stomping. And I heard that when they got him to the church, he was bleeding out his asshole. Fierce. Like a fuckin woman full-on with her monthly.”
Bob paused to look each squad member dead in the eye. When he continued this time, he was calm again:
“Anyways, he went to the law over it. Or maybe it was some woman kin of his that did. Nothing came of it, of course. Because, obviously, as far as the law was concerned, that aint what really happened. What happened was he got careless and fell down in front of a team on the move, and got trampled up pretty bad. Guys get careless and shit like that can happen. There were over a hundred witnesses on that riverbank to attest to that. And any priest that was gonna sniff out a lie was gonna have to burn every fuckin teamster there over it.
“So, the moral of this story, youngsters, is that some motherfuckers just don’t got no sense. Ye can never account for people like that and what they might fuckin do. And they’ll stand there right next to their mess with a cretin fuckin gobo grin like they don’t got a fuckin clue what’s coming to them. Everyone else sees that he may as well have laid down in front of a team on the move, but somehow he just don’t fuckin get it.”
It was silent for a while then, as everyone took their time digesting what Bob had told them.
“Well, that’s a lovely story, Bob. Thank you,” Peep finally said.
“No problem. Ye all might be some real shitkickers, no doubt about that. But yar also young, and I don’t know what ye might know about the world. I don’t know if ye know what it means to run a yard of teamsters out in the bush like I do. Ye might look at someone like me and think that I’m someone to disregard. And compared to people like you, I might be. But that don’t mean that I’m somebody that’ll just roll over for ye”
“I think that’s pretty obvious, Bob. So, why are ye here, then?” Peep asked.
Bob looked at her square. “Well, I aint here because ye scare me. And I aint here because I aint willing to die for what I think is right. If I thought ye lot were pricks that aint on the right side of things, I’d stand tall against ye and die sure of my final judgement. Thing is, ye lot aint on the wrong side of things in this. And I aint the kinda motherfucker that’s gonna stand by a fuckin mess grinning like a cretin fuckin gobo when a shitkicking is coming over it. Especially when it aint my fuckin mess.”
Bob paused for a moment to look everyone in the eye before continuing:
“Listen, I’ve met Murray, of Double Horseshoes Freight. He started out a proper teamster. Then he figured out he was better at something else. And him, and whoever else it was that sent that cocksucker Sneed out here to do his evil, aint anybody I’m willing to stand tall for. Not over some Strana gangster bullshit. Fuck that. When they done Rodolf like they did, they lost me. Fuck that and fuck them!” Bob hawked and spat into the firepit.
“I am glad to hear that you feel that way, Bob,” Choke said.
“Yeah, I’ll bet ye are, Brother Bartholomew. So, what is it ye’d like to know, so’s we can get this thing settled without any more normal folk getting fucked out here?”
“Okay, then, Bob. First off, yar the Outfit boss out here, right?” Peep said.
Bob spat again. “The Outfit… The Outfit, this; the Outfit, that. There aint no fuckin Outfit. At least not out here, there aint. That’s some Strana gangster bullshit, where every fuckin crew wants to hang their shingle out like they’re something to worry about. The long and short of it out here is that ye don’t fuck with teamsters. And if ye do, proper teamsters will see to it that everyone gets a reminder about why ye don’t. We take care of our own and get our fuckin business done.”
“Okay. I can appreciate that. So, whad’ye proper teamsters do when a man like Alan ‘the Cocksucker’ Mason comes through throwing gold around on behalf of thems that say they’re the Outfit?” Peep asked.
“We stay outta their way.”
“So you aint the one that’s been pulling the strings out here? Are ye fuckin kidding me? Ye had yar hand up Dixon’s ass like he was yar fuckin hand puppet! And he was bent long before any Outfit boys started sniffing around out here after us. So don’t ye fuckin tell me that yar just some teamster boss and that’s the end of it!” Peep grinned at Bob.
“Oh, that one! If yar looking for a cretin gobo standing next to their fuckin mess with a shit-eating grin like they don’t understand the shit-kicking that’s coming their way, then that’s the guy for ye. And, yeah, he’s bent. But I weren’t the one that fuckin bent him.”
“But ye were the one to tell him to hush up during our first sit down. And he did. So yar trying to tell us that there aint no Outfit out here, and ye and yar lot are just a bunch of proper shit-kickers who take care of yarselves, but then yar showing up hard at our place with a bent army lieutenant on a string. Fuck off, Bob! If ye think yar gonna knock us off yar scent with this weak shit, ye got another thing coming. Cut the bullshit!” Peep said.
Bob glared at Peep. She stared back. Finally, she slapped both her palms down on her knees and stood up.
“Okay. That’s it then, Bob. Thanks for the chat. I’ll be seeing ye again real soon, I’m sure,” Peep said.
Choke shrugged and began to stand up as well, with Knuckle and Pinch shifting their weight to follow his lead.
Bob flinched and waved his hand at Peep.
“Okay! Sit the fuck down!”
“Ye gonna make it worth my while, Bob?”
“Sure. Yeah! Fuck! Ye wanna put me on the hook here, do ye?” Bob snapped.
“That’s the only way I know of catching a fish that’s worth having,” Peep grinned as she sat back down. “So, do tell, Bob: what’s the deal with our bent lieutenant?”
“It’s a payroll scam, obviously. He got sent out here about a year and a half ago with a full thirty men. Then he had Wagner and Munge run most of them off,” Bob said.
“And? How’s the pay work? Who’s handling the coin? How’s he not been caught? In a year and a half, no one comes up here to check on the soldiers? And how is it that this criminal mastermind is sitting down and shutting up when ye tell him to? We need answers here, Bob,” Peep said.
Bob took a moment to think everything over before he nodded and relaxed.
“Okay, then. Fuck it. But I aint giving no evidence over this. I’ll dish what ye want, but not as evidence. And then ye leave me and the proper teamsters the fuck outta this. Right?”
“Well, that all depends on how good yar dish is, Bob. If it’s real yummy, then… yeah, we’ll go on our way and get’er done. If it’s a bunch more bullshit, then I aint gonna be inclined to be nice to ye anymore. Right?” Peep said, her voice now low and menacing.
“Okay, then. When Dixon was sent up here, it was because he was in trouble. I heard tales he was a captain before, but he got in too deep with hoors and gambling and got busted down. He also ran up a heavy debt with some bad cats in Strana.”
“Yeah, we know how that goes,” Pinch said.
“No, youngster, I don’t think ye do. I heard about yar little troubles, and what Dixon was into them guys for aint the kinda shit ye clear up by beating up a couple of Outfit thugs. He was a captain, right? That means he’s from a quality family. All that got tapped and he still wasn’t clear. I heard that he woulda been kicked out of the army, but someone pulled some strings and got him demoted instead. Then they sent him out here, on account of Barrelmender, our magistrate, aint worth a shit and everyone knows it. Sorry,” Bob said Choke’s way.
Choke waved the apology off with an accepting nod at Bob’s pronouncement on Barrelmender.
“So, how’s the scam work?” Peep asked.
“Every month, payroll is sent in coin in a lockbox on one of our wagons. A small squad of soldiers comes with as security. About six guys, usually. We unload the box and Dixon comes to unlock it and give his okay to the soldiers to head on back,” Bob said.
“And then he pockets the money? How’s this help the guys he owes?” Peep said, looking confused.
“He don’t pocket shit. Or, not much, anyways. The box is light before it gets here. There’s just enough coin in there to pay the men he has left, plus a little extra. That extra’s for him and Wagner and Munge. Then, there’s just a little bit left as my cut for helping them with it. But all that cheese aint much compared to what ought to be there. I’d guess whoever loads that box in Spitzer is skimming an even half.”
Bob stopped talking. He and Peep stared at each other for a while.
“What?” Bob finally asked her tersely.
“So, Bob, a minute ago ye were sitting here telling us that there’s no such thing as the Outfit out here. That it’s just some rough and ready teamster boys that take care of their own. And now yar telling us that the lieutenant got bent by owing money to bad men in Strana. That those bad men pulled strings to get him posted out here, where they got at least one guy in the fort who’s got access to the payroll. That they’ve been skimming that payroll for a year and a half with no one any the wiser, and that ye’ve been getting greased the whole time to help them do it. But, yeah… there’s no such thing as the Outfit and yar just a shit-kicker yard boss.”
Bob met Peep’s eye and shrugged.
“So, who’s yar guy in Spitzer?” Peep asked.
“Pardon?”
“Who is the Outfit guy in Spitzer who handles all this shit? The main man? Some boss at the freight depot, right?”
Bob shook his head. “Nope. We’re not going there. I got a family. If yar gonna start taking things in that direction, then I’m the fuck outta here. Let’s talk about what’s going on out here in the bush.”
“Okay. Let’s. What about Sneed?” Peep asked.
“He’s a fuckin piece of shit. Whad’ye wanna know?”
“He’s the one that shot Rodolf, right?”
“I didn’t see him do it. Don’t know of anyone that did. But, yeah. That was Sneed.”
“When ye came to the church with him and Dixon, ye introduced him as yar head of security. But he showed up here only just before we did, right? The Outfit sent him right away after Alan ‘the Cocksucker’ Mason got fucked up by Captain Fairchild. Right? Tell us about that,” Peep said.
“Well, yeah, it’s like ye said. He showed up and yanked Dixon’s chain. Told him and me both that as far as anyone was concerned, he’s my head of security. That I’m his boss, and that’s that.”
“Who is he? Where’s he from?”
“No idea. He aint local. Heard he made a name for himself scouting at the Alquinian front. Some real ill shit goes on there, in case ye didn’t know,” Bob said.
“What about his three boyos? They local?”
“Two of them are. Outta Moondark. Typical of that type. Kerl and Dane. The other one, I don’t know. They’re all fuckin psychos. I heard that Kerl once skinned a man alive for cheating him at cards.”
“Okay. Ye know where they lay their heads? Where they are now?”
“When they’re in town, they spend most of their time at Tully’s. But they don’t sleep there. No idea where they do. Out in the bush, gotta be, or people would be talking. Probably out past Bristlenook, what with two of his boys being from out that way. Anyways, they lit outta here yesterday afternoon for Spitzer. Right after Rodolf got got. If they push it, they could be getting back right about now,” Bob said.
“That’s what we figured. And who’re they going to see in Spitzer? The boss at the depot that ye won’t talk about?”
Bob stared at Peep for a bit.
“Well, ye aint saying no. So I’ll credit ye with an answer on that. How about our sheriff in Spitzer? Waters. He’s bent, too, right?”
“Ye need me to tell ye that?”
“Right. But he aint no kinda boss in yar world.”
“He aint no one I’d take orders from. Let’s put it that way,” Bob said.
“Works for me. Okay, just a couple more things, Bob,” Peep said, quite friendly now. “Alan, ‘the Cocksucker’ Mason. He been lurking around?”
Bob paused at this. “He aint been lurking, no. Not since he first come through. But I have heard that he’s laid up in the bush somewhere’s nearby with a full team.”
“D’ye know where?” Peep asked.
“No. And I aint gonna find out for ye. Aint that yar job?”
“Right ye are. It is. And what about Tully’s boys? Edwin and Fernand their names are, right? They mixed up in all this?” Peep asked.
Bob winced and hesitated before answering. “Yeah, I reckon they are. When ye first split from Spitzer, Mason tapped them to round up a back-up crew and wait for word in Spitzer. They aint been around since then either.”
“Ye sure about that, Bob? They aint been spotted on the road, or some shit?” Peep asked sharply.
“Yeah. I’m sure. They aint been around. If ye want my guess, I’d say they’re part of that crew the Chisel has in the bush around here. That it?”
“Just about, Bob. Thank ye. Just a thought I’d like to run by ye, is all. Sneed showed up here just a bit more than a week before we did, right?”
“Yeah. That’s right.”
“So that means he lit outta Spitzer the very day we got back there from Callic. That means he was waiting there to see what was what. There’s no way he coulda been sent from farther away to Spitzer by the Outfit after Mason fucked up,” Peep said.
“Yeah, that’s right. What’s yar point?”
“Well, just that he’s the guy. He’s the one that’s been running this whole fucking game from the start. The Chisel was on his leash. That means Sneed is a very, very bad boy. And one that really likes to lay in the cut.”
“Yeah. I guess all that is so,” Bob said levelly.
“And ye just crossed him, Bob.”
“Yeah. I reckon I just did. Because fuck him for killing Rodolf. Some things matter. Killing Rodolf was one of them. Are we done now, Miss Otilla?”
“Yeah. I reckon we are, Bob. Thank ye for yar cooperation. We’ll stay outta yar way. And as far as anyone else is concerned, we didn’t hear any of this from you. Take care, now,” Peep said, standing up.
“Yeah. I will. You too,” Bob said as he did likewise.
“I always do, Bob. Except when I don’t.”
Muse Vassal 