Table of Contents – (spoilers)
Choke and Peep were sitting down with Babs in the small officer’s dining room in the army barracks building of Bristlehump.
“Well, as I’m sure ye remember, Babs, we had that meeting with Bob at yar place just over a week back. Whad’ye know about how that went?” Peep asked.
“Well, there’s what I know for fact, and what I think I might know from hearsay and putting things together on my own. How’s about we just go with what I know for a fact. Ye met with Bob and had a parlay about the troubles ye were having with the Outfit boys sent to do ye harm. And that’s all I know for a fact. Beyond that, I will say, that as far as I know, yar meeting with him is still a secret around here. Far as I know, mind.”
“Well, that’s good to hear, Babs. So let me just get right to it,” Peep said, leaning in. “We ran into yar husband and boys at the midway camp on the Spitzer road, night before last. Balan told us what the teamsters heard about Choke here getting killed. And about who they all heard it from. A corporal from Spitzer fort by the name of Butters crossbowed Choke and fled the fort in the night. Seems he picked up a horse and whatever else at the freight yard in Spitzer and lit out thisaway. That seems to be the guy that showed up at the yard here in Bristlehump and told Bob that he killed Choke. Then the guy fucked off. I don’t suppose any of that is news to ye, now is it Babs?” Peep asked.
“Well, all that about him really being the feller that crossbowed Bartholomew is. Seems like it didn’t take, huh?”
“No, it didn’t. Thanks to the healing of Altas, praise him,” Choke said, tracing the Wheel over his breast.
“Yes. Praise him,” Babs said, doing likewise.
“Yeah. Praise Altas,” Peep said, rushing through the Wheel herself. “Now, when we heard all this from Balan, we thought that we would really like another private word with Bob. Between you and us right now, Bob was plenty helpful in our last meeting. And we thought he might like the chance to stay on our good side with this whole Corporal Butters mess. Because, as it stands right now, it don’t look too good for Bob. Not from our perspective, what with him helping the man that’s on the run from puncturing our good friend here. I’m sure ye see what we’re saying.”
“That, I do. That I do,” Babs nodded.
“So we brought that up to yar husband, and he told us he’d be happy to make the arrangements for a second meeting. Problem is, he’s in Spitzer right now, and we’d really like to get on it as soon as possible. So—”
“So Balan told ye to ask me to do it,” Babs interrupted Peep. “I got it. And, yeah, it’s no problem. Don’t mind if I do.”
“Glad to hear it, Babs. Thank ye,” Peep said.
“Indeed. Thank you,” seconded Choke.
“Not at all. Not at all. My pleasure. Just need to know how ye wanna handle it,” Babs said.
“Well, Choke, I mean, Bartholomew, and me are gonna be going to the yard right after breakfast to talk to Bob in an official kinda way. And to keep everything looking like everyone around expects it to be, we’re gonna lean on him pretty hard about Butters. And he’s gonna tell us some bullshit about it and then push back some, I’m sure. That’s all good, and that’s how we’re gonna leave it. We can’t risk anyone overhearing us trying to set up anything with Bob on the sly. So, what we’re hoping ye’ll do is go and have a word with him later on and invite him to another sit-down. Ye don’t mind us using yar place again, do ye?” asked Peep.
“No. It’s fine. Just gonna hafta think up a reason to go and see him. That aint hard, though. As a matter of fact, I do believe they still owe us something on some of Garet’s back pay. I can go and harangue him on that. Should be able to invite him up to our place without anyone overhearing. Don’t reckon they’ll be as intent on listening in on whatever I have to say.”
“That’s just what we were thinking,” Peep said.
“So, when d’ye wanna do this? The meeting, I mean?” Bab’s asked.
“Soon as possible. Tonight, if possible. Right?” Peep looked over at Choke to check.
Choke nodded.
“We don’t want to put you out, of course, Babs. But this really would be very helpful,” he said.
“Don’t mention it. Like I said: it’ll be my pleasure.”
“The only thing I worry about is, might there not be a chance that someone puts it together that you are acting as a go between here?” Choke asked.
Babs scowled for a second to think it over. Then she shook her head.
“Nah. I don’t think so. I have my business with ye. And I have my business with him. There aint no reason that anyone would triangle that. Not that I can think of, anyways. Remember, no one around here knows that ye met the first time, right? As far as everyone knows, ye all are on the opposite sides of things here. So I aint worried about it.”
Peep nodded in agreement. “Yeah, the only way ye can get burned on this is if we get spotted meeting with him. Or if some really clever fuck spots Bob coming and going about the same time we are. But, then, Bob’s the one that gets fucked on it. So that’s okay. We should take care to cover our end, though.”
Peep paused to have a think before continuing:
“So, Babs, tell Bob to get word to ye about the meet time. Then, once he does, send word up to us that the barrel of special ale we ordered will be ready at that time. We’ll head down to collect it. That should cover it pretty well on our side.”
“Sounds good,” Babs nodded. “But what if Bob says he don’t wanna meet privately with ye?”
“Well, that would be profoundly stupid of him,” Peep said, deadpan. “But we don’t need ye to tell him anything. Ye’ll tell us he refused, and we’ll know where he stands. And then we’ll act accordingly.”
“Alright. Sounds good. I’ll head down to the yard after lunch and we should be in business,” Babs said, looking pleased. “This is kinda exciting, aint it? A bit of slyness to perk things up around here!”
“And we do appreciate it, Babs. Just remember: we don’t need you taking any risks for us. Just delivering the basic messages is more than enough,” Choke said.
“Alright, duly noted, General,” Babs sat up straight and saluted him with a chuckle. “But while we’re on the topic of all this slyness. I wonder if ye might indulge me with some information about the agents involved.”
“Yeah. Sure, Babs. I won’t begrudge ye asking anyways,” Peep said.
“Alright, then. Don’t mind if I do. So, about this fella that yar after. Butters is his name, right? Yeah. What’s his story? Is he a proper Outfit cat? He’s hitched up with them, right?”
“Oh, yeah. He surely is. He aint just some shitheel looking for a payday. We have it on good authority that he’s a player,” Peep said.
“Uh-huh. And he was a corporal in the army? Like, the proper army? Like you are and Dixon was?” Babs asked.
“Yeah. And Butters aint the only one. They got their hooks in just about everywhere around here, it seems,” said Peep.
“Well, I suppose that’s more yar problem than anyone else’s around here. Now, just another matter: we heard that the teamster boss at Spitzer yard got it real bad early last week. A real gruesome spectacle on Main Street is what we heard,” Babs said, her tone now very level.
Peep nodded sagely at this. Eventually, she said:
“Well, ye heard right, Babs. Wes was his name. And he died real ugly. Late one night, right in the middle of Main Street, somebody carved him and his man up. Killed them both. Then put Wes’ head in front of the sheriff office door.”
“No shit. Well, we heard some tales even more lurid than that, but I’ll take yar word over idle gossip. Sounds like a message was sent.”
“Oh, yeah. The prevailing theory around town is that the Outfit got skittish thinking that Wes was helping Father Morrenthall in his investigation of their corruption. That, or they were punishing him for not being able to put us away properly. Anyways, it was a pretty standard bad guy on bad guy kinda deal,” Peep smiled.
“Huh. So, what yar saying here is that Wes was an Outfit man himself,” Babs said.
“What, ye didn’t know that already?” Peep asked, legitimately surprised.
“It’s been suspected, I suppose. But folks of our station of life don’t go digging into the affairs of those at such a great remove from us. We know better than to talk shit about those men.”
“Well, that’s wise, I’d say. But, I aint so constrained. So I have no problem telling ye that Wes there was the shot caller for the Outfit in these parts.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Yes, that is a fact, Babs. Stron’s angels themselves confirmed it to Father Morrenthall. So, however it happened, and by whatever agent’s hand, Wes got what was coming to him. Rest assured of that,” Peep said, meeting Babs’ eye with hard finality.
“Well, I suppose that’s good enough for me. By all accounts, Father Morrenthall knows what he’s about. And, with that, I suppose that is good enough for me. Anything else to discuss?” Babs asked, looking from Peep to Choke and back to Peep for the final word.
“No. I think that’s it for now. Thanks again, though, for running that message,” Peep said, standing up.
“Like I said: no problem at all,” Babs said as she stood up as well. “Always glad to help. And I’ll send someone up to let ye know when that special barrel of beer is ready for ye.”
“Ye do that, Babs. Always a pleasure to talk to ye,” Peep said.
“Likewise, I am sure,” Babs said.
The women then shook hands. Standing back from the scene, Choke was struck by how small Peep seemed next to the big, burly woman. Each met the other on equal terms, though. Then, Babs went on her way.
***
Right after breakfast, Choke and Peep rode down to their meeting with Bob at the teamsters’ yard. Choke was in his good tabard with Lieutenant Dixon’s beautiful cavalry saber on his hip. He left his lance at the barracks, but had his kite shield and longbow case and quiver on Nike’s saddle. Peep was outfitted just as she always was.
The yard was not particularly busy, with most of the men out in the bush collecting logs from different lumber camps. Choke and Peep rode right up to the freight office and dismounted to tether their horses to one of the hitching posts outside. Before they had finished, Bob came out of the office. As usual, he was dressed ruggedly as a driver with a good shortsword and a thick leather ox clout on his belt. His heavy boots laced up to his knee and had metal toe caps and plates armoring the bridge of the feet.
“Morning, Lieutenant. Miss Otilla. Come on in,” Bob said.
In the freight office was Bob’s desk with several rough wooden chairs all around. There were two other doors: one open to a small kitchen, and the other shut. The man who had been holding the crossbow the day before was seated in one of the chairs. Besides the knife on his belt, the man was unarmed. Behind him on the wall was a rack with four crossbows, some hunting bows, a bunch of quivers, a few shortspears, and a small assortment of other poor-quality melee weapons.
“Have a seat,” Bob said, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk. “Would ye like a mug a stug? Klim can get that for ye, if ye want. That’s Klim,” Bob gestured at the other man as he sat down behind his desk.
“Hey,” Klim said, touching his brow with his index finger. The middle-aged man was normal looking, but had something of a sly aspect to him.
“Hey,” Peep returned.
“Good to meet you, Klim,” Choke said, tipping his own brow.
“I don’t think we need any more stug, thanks. Jittery enough this morning, I reckon,” Peep said as she took her seat.
“Okay, then. So let’s get to it. We’re all busy people,” Bob said as he leaned back in his chair and threw his big boots up on his desk. “Ye don’t mind if Klim stays while we talk. It’s probably best that both of us have a friendly witness. Just to make sure.”
“Make sure of what, Bob?” Peep asked with a big grin.
“Ye never can say what kinda twists and turns a conversation might take these days, can ye? Best just to be cautious, right?”
“I agree, Bob,” Choke said. “So, about our official business. I’ve been told that you and your men are responsible for delivering our mail and payroll from Spitzer.”
“That’s right,” Bob said, meeting both Choke and Peep’s eye with serious intent that belied his calm tone. “Some of our wagons have lockboxes on em. Sometimes, one of them gets filled up for ye by soldiers in Spitzer. Once a month for payroll. And whenever there’s mail.”
“And the payroll delivery aint regular, I guess?” Peep asked, smiling coldly. “By that I mean: it aint on a regular schedule. I’m sure all the coins are gonna be in order.”
“Yeah. That’s right. They change up when they send it,” Bob said, glaring daggers at Peep.
“Good. Good. But yar guys, they know when something’s been locked up in their lock boxes, right? That’s done at the Spitzer freight yard, right?” Peep asked.
“Yeah, that’s right. It’s a fair bit of copper, so that’s bulky. And it aint light. Just about everyone in that Spitzer yard is gonna know when that payroll leaves. On the morning of, of course.”
“Of course. But you or yar boys don’t know ahead of time when the army is gonna decide to send it, right?” Peep asked, her tone more pointed.
“Well, probably not. But that all depends on your lot, now don’t it,” Bob glared back.
“Yes, it does,” Choke interjected. “Otilla: I will receive notification of the delivery date at the start of the month by mail.”
“Is that so, Lieutenant?” Peep asked, never breaking her hard stare at Bob.
“Yes, it is.”
“Now, that mail about the payroll delivery is mail that Bob’s boys also deliver,” Peep said, still staring right at Bob, her face a grim statue.
“That’s right,” Choke said.
“What’s yar fuckin point?” Bob snapped at Peep.
“Nothin. Just good to know where things stand. Just so’s ye lot know that I understand that yar all fully in the loop on this. So if anything gets fucky, then we have a place to start looking into it.”
“Now look here!” Bob snapped, dropping his feet off his desk as he sat up to stab his finger across his desk at Peep. “I don’t need to sit here and listen to—”
“Don’t ye?” Peep interrupted. Unlike Bob, her posture became more relaxed, as she slouched back into her chair, her right hand playing over the hilt of her shortsword.
Things were silent for a while.
“What are ye gonna do, Bob?” Peep eventually asked, her tone very mild. “Tell us to fuck off? It might just be me, but with all that the Baron expects for ye to do for us, the army here in town, I don’t think telling us to fuck off is really in yar best interest. That could just be me, though. Maybe I’m the one that’s fucked up in my thinking here.”
“Just relax, Bob. No one here is accusing you or your men of anything,” Choke interjected. “We just want everything to be clear between us. That’s all.”
“Oh, that’s all, is it?” Bob snapped, glaring Choke’s way.
“That’s right. So, I think we’ve all been clear enough. When there is mail, or any other delivery for us, send someone up to let us know, and I will send reliable people to check and receive it. Any questions on that?” Choke asked.
“No. I think I got it.”
“Good,” Peep said, with a cold smile.
“Now, last evening, you said something about needing to talk to us. I do apologize, but it slipped my mind just what that was about,” Choke said.
“Oh, it slipped yar mind, did it?” Bob said, swiveling his glare from Peep over to Choke.
“Yes. It did. We were all very tired last evening,” Choke smiled at Bob. Then there was silence that he waited for Bob to fill.
“Yeah. Right. Well, I wanted to talk to ye about getting a patrol for Spitzer road,” Bob said.
“Ah. Right. That was what it was about,” Choke said.
Once again there was a long, awkward silence.
“Well, are ye gonna patrol it?” Bob finally asked.
“No. I am afraid not,” Choke said.
“What? Look, it’s a two-day slog between here and Spitzer, all of it bush, and my men have their asses hanging out the whole time. The army needs to step up with patrols of that fuckin road!” Bob slammed his hand down on his desk.
“I quite understand your concern. But—” Choke began.
“Don’t give me that shit!” roared Bob, stabbing his finger across the desk at Choke this time. “If we fuckin lose anybody out there, it’s gonna be on you! Patrol the fuckin road!”
Choke stared calmly at Bob for a long moment. Finally, when the teamster boss had lowered his finger, and seemed somewhat calmer, Choke spoke:
“Are you quite finished? I am sure all your men appreciate your performance. So I am happy to be of service to you in that regard. However, you can shout all you want at me; it doesn’t change the facts of the matter. My mandate is to protect and police Bristlehump. I have one platoon of footmen to do that. There is no way we can patrol that road. Not anything beyond an hour or two’s march, that is. And I am sure you are talking about well more than that. As well you should.”
While Choke spoke, Bob did some controlled breathing to keep himself under control.
“Look. I understand that ye only got the men ye got. But I need a regular horse patrol of the Spitzer road. Or we’re gonna start losing people. D’ye understand me?”
“Shit, Bob,” Peep laughed, “I need a feather mattress in the clouds to rest my weary head. That shit aint gonna happen neither.”
Bob glared at Peep but chose not to respond. Instead he turned back to Choke, his manner now one of supplication:
“Look, Lieutenant. Ye gotta understand. Talk to yar superiors. We’re gonna need that fuckin road patrolled. I aint just whistling Misty Muff here.”
“Why the sudden urgency?” Choke asked. “You have not been losing people, have you? Things have been calm for months, have they not?”
This time it was Bob’s turn to laugh.
“Oh, that’s a right fuckin great thing for you to be saying to me right now! After yar lot’s been running around preaching incoming goblin hoards and the end of all times!”
“Well, if that goes down, Bob,” Peep interjected, “ye really think half-a-dozen dipshits on horses every week or two is gonna make a big difference? And yar type aint the sort to worry about what the priests knock on about. So what’s really going on here?”
Bob met Peep’s eye. When he saw her question was earnest, he slumped in despair.
“Oh, come on! Aint you supposed to be the bandit badass around here? Think about what’s been going on in Spitzer the last week, huh?” Bob exclaimed.
Peep looked confused for just a second. Then she got it. Once she had, she chuckled sympathetically.
“Okay. Right. Yeah. I hear what yar saying, Bob,” she said.
“Okay. Well, I don’t. What is he saying, Otilla?” Choke asked.
“He’s talking sense, LT. Okay. Father M has cleaned the Outfit outta Spitzer, right? We’ve come up to make sure they stay clear of Bristlehump. Now, d’ye remember way back, few weeks ago, when we first came up here? Them bad boys we killed trying to rob our horses in the night? Remember when Bob and Sneed come up to the church and laid claim to them? Said they worked for Sneed off and on as security for the teamsters? D’ye remember what I asked them, then?”
Choke thought about it. Then he smiled ruefully.
“I do remember what you asked them. You asked if those two were paid not to rob the wagons.”
“Yeah. Exactly. So, if this whole place was dirty, and making the Outfit money every month through Dixon’s bullshit, then they woulda made sure that there wasn’t any bandit trouble around to attract attention to the fact that there was only a half-dozen poon-addled drunks up here protecting the joint. Now, however…” Peep drifted off significantly.
“The bandit scum that the bush north of here is rife with aint got no cause to be worried about coming back around,” Bob finished her thought.
“Yeah. Like he said,” Peep said to Choke.
“Alright. I understand,” Choke said. “I will immediately write letters to Captain Edison and Father Morrenthall, Spitzer’s magistrate, apprising them of your concerns. And that is the very best I can do. I hope you understand that.”
“I do understand that, Lieutenant. And if ye do as ye say ye will, I thank ye for it,” Bob said.
“I will do it. One of my people shall bring the letters for you to deliver to Spitzer. You have my word on that. Now… seeing as we are talking about the Outfit and their bad boys, we have just one more matter to discuss with you, Bob,” Choke said, his manner shifting from understanding to heavy as he did.
“Butters,” Peep said.
“Who?” Bob said, his smile now wooden.
Klim shifted nervously in his chair off to the side.
“The ex-corporal Butters. The fucker that shot Lieutenant Pekot here,” Peep said. “He came to see you after he run off from Spitzer. His first stop. Don’t bullshit us now, Bob. We know he came here.”
“Look,” Bob said, holding his palms up in a gesture of surrender, “ye know how things are with someone in my position.”
“Yeah, I do, Bob. And look how that all worked out for Wes in Spitzer, huh? Big swinging dick there. Until he wasn’t.”
“Yeah, well, I aint a big swinging dick. Not if we’re talking Outfit,” Bob said.
“No. Ye aint. So how d’ye think this is gonna for you if we decide we don’t like ye anymore? How’s it gonna go for all yar boys that yar trying to get protected from bandits? Ye think real careful on that now, Bob. Because that fuckin creep shot my friend here. And I aint inclined to be reasonable with people that are helping him get away. So don’t say anything, Bob. Ye think on it for a minute, now.”
Peep paused for a good long time, staring at Bob coldly as she caressed the hilt of her shortsword. Eventually, she continued:
“So, Bob. Where’s Butters?”
“Look. I don’t know. No! Wait!” Bob raised his palms again before Peep could respond. “I’m telling the truth! Yes, that fucker showed up here on Friday and was talking all kinds a Outfit shit. Yelling about how he killed the Lieutenant here. But I aint never seen him before.”
“And yet he knew to come straight to ye,” Peep said.
“Well, yeah, no shit. I’m the teamster boss here, and he’s an Outfit cat on the run. Where the fuck else d’ye think he’s gonna go?”
“So what did he want?” asked Peep.
“Food. Another horse. And to talk to Sneed,” Bob answered.
“Okay, then. And ye gave him all that?”
“The food and the horse, yeah.”
“And Sneed?” Peep asked.
“What the fuck about him?”
“Don’t ye get cute about that fucker now, ye prick,” Peep said, leaning forward as she slid her shortsword halfway from its sheath. “I’ll open up yar fuckin neck right where ye sit, ye lie to me. Where the fuck did ye send Butters?”
“Where the fuck could I send him? Ye think I know shit about where that psycho Sneed is? Ye think he keeps me apprised of his comings and goings? I told that Butters prick what I’m telling ye now: I don’t know where Sneed is. He’s off to the north someplace. Lit outta here the same night ye burned down Tully’s,” Bob said.
“Ye mean after he shot poor Lieutenant Dixon off the back of his horse right out in front here?” asked Peep.
“Yeah. After that.”
“Can ye testify to that?”
“Are ye fuckin kidding me? It was dark. We’re here all fire blind from our torches and lanterns. We saw Dixon eat shit out on the road, sure. How are we supposed to see who shot him. Now, who the fuck else could it have been besides Sneed? But me knowing that is no different than you knowing it. Aint one of us seen it proper, though, did we? And that aint good enough for yar priests, now is it?”
“Don’t matter to us none. We got a death warrant on Sneed now. From the Baron himself. So we find him, he dies,” Peep said.
“Well, good for you. I still don’t know where the fuck he is.”
“Lucky for you, Bob, that I believe ye. Question is: did Butters?”
“Well, I’m here talking to ye, aint I? Still have my thumbs, don’t I? Butters took what he needed and lit the fuck out. I’d guess he’s heading north. Maybe ye wanna ask around up Bristlenook way,” Bob said.
“Maybe we’ll do that. But you mark me well, Bob. If we hear anything… anything… that makes me think different about what ye just told me… I’m gonna come back when yar least prepared for it. And then we’re gonna talk again on this. Just you and me. Real slow. So, before the Lieutenant and me head outta here with all this being what it is, is there anything more ye wanna say to me?” Peep asked.
“No. There aint.”
“Good.” Peep slid her shortsword back home in its sheath. “Good. That’s good, Bob. By the way, we heard that yar boys cleaned Dixon up off the road. Thanks for that.”
“Yeah. Well, it wasn’t me. I’ll pass it along, though,” Bob said, his face grim.
“You do that,” Peep said, standing up as she did.
On her cue, Choke stood up as well. Then Peep paused:
“Oh, yeah. Just one more thing, Bob. Ye said ye gave Butters a horse. What horse would that be?”
Bob sighed.
Peep laughed.
“Oh, Bob. Ye went and gave him the horse Dixon was on, didn’t ye?”
“Yeah. What of it?”
“Well, Bob, that was our horse. And ye went and gave it to the man that shot the Lieutenant here. Not good, Bob. Not good at all,” Peep clucked her tongue. “Ye don’t happen to have a better horse than that around here do ye?”
Bob simply glared back at Peep.
“Yeah. Thought not. Well, I’m gonna hafta meditate on how we can get to some kind of resolution on this. Cause we aint square on it. Not by a long shot. But, we’ll stay in touch.”
With this, Peep turned on her heel and left Bob’s office. Choke nodded to Bob and Klim in turn before following her.
Muse Vassal 