"You got me, Sherlock," Harper said with a shrug.
"And finally, there's no tracks. Unless that's why they burned out those patches of the scrub-to cover their tracks, or the marks of the weapons that did this."
Valentine kneeled and sniffed at the charred wood. It still retained a faint petroleum or medicinal smell, like camphor.
"Somebody's coming," Harper called, moving swiftly behind the silo, rifle already at his shoulder. Valentine threw himself to the ground, hearing footsteps from the forest. The person was not making any effort to keep quiet, whoever it was.
A middle-aged man in faded blue pants and a striped mattress-ticking shirt emerged from the forest. He surveyed the wreckage, not looking particularly surprised. He removed his baseball cap and wiped his face and neck with a yellow handkerchief. What was left of his hair, balding front and back, was a uniform gray.
"Whoever you are," the man called, "you're sure up early. Come out and show yourselves. I ain't armed."
Valentine hand-signaled Harper to stay concealed. Gonzalez had vanished, perhaps into the overgrown drainage ditch next to the road. He stood up, half fearing a sniper's bullet.
"Good morning to you, too," Valentine responded. "I'm just passing through."
"You mean 'we're passing through," stranger," the unknown rustic chided. "I saw your buddy behind the silo. Since you're not from around here, I'll ask your name, son."
"David, sir. I'm down from Minnesota. Visiting friends, you might say."
The man smiled. "If that's the case, I'd keep that repeating rifle hid. I don't know how it is in Minnesota, but around here the vampires'll kill you for carrying a gun. Among other things."
"Thanks for the tip. We're trying to pass through without attracting attention. Do you live around here, sir?"
"All my life. My name's Gustafsen. I'm a widower now, and my kids are gone. I farm a little place up the road. Saw the sky lit up and figured it was the old Bauer farm. Don't have much business of my own to mind, so you might say I mind other people's, just to have something to do."
That could be good or bad for us, Valentine thought. "Did anyone live here?"
"No, not since they took over. The Bauers all died of the Raving Madness. No one's wanted to live here since: it's five miles from nowhere."
"I wonder what started the fire? There's been a lot of rain, but no lightning."
Gustafsen chuckled. "I wonder myself. I hear from some of the teamsters, there's been a few mysterious fires this summer. Started right around the time the new Big Boss showed up in Glarus. And things have gone from bad to worse for a lot of folks around here since then. There's been disappearances in almost every town, and I'm sure you know what that means."
"I'm surprised you ask questions, Mr. Gustafsen. Most places that's frowned upon."
"My curiosity is all I've got left, David." Gustafsen thrust his hands in his pockets, speaking to Valentine while standing side by side with him as was the custom in that part of the country. They looked over the wrecked barn and house. "I've lived a full life, considering the circumstances. After my Annie got took, I quit looking for anything else from this life, and I'm settin' my heart on the next."
Valentine liked the man on instinct. He thought for a moment about asking the man to come south with them. They had a spare horse, after all, and the Free Territory could always use another farmer or rancher.
Gustafsen said, "I didn't get much formal education. They don't like schools. But I'm smart enough to know that men in deerskins carrying guns and staying out of sight of the roads means trouble for them. So if you boys want to come to my place, I'll share what I got with you. Maybe you need to spend a couple nights in a bed. I've got some spares. I'd appreciate the company."
"We appreciate the offer, Mr. Gustafsen. Really. But we've got to move on east," Valentine lied, just in case. "If you could spare a bag of oats for the horses, we'd be in your debt, sir. I'd really like information about these fires, though. You seem to have your ear to the ground."
"It beats me as much as it does you, son. One old man saw some kind of airship over a fire. I don't know exactly where or when; it's a fourth-hand story. Like the old blimps you see in pictures. He said it moved around with sails. And I got a theory about where it's coming from: somewhere around Blue Mounds. They say it's death to go within five miles of there now. Whatever's happening, they got a lot of troops. The Commissary Patrols are culling stock all over this part of the state, taking good dairy stock and hogs, mostly. It's going to be a hard winter."
"Sounds like. You say this new Big Boss is in Glarus?"
"It's New Glarus on a map," Gustafsen corrected.
"We'd better avoid it," Valentine said, lying again. He had to account for the chance that Gustafsen might be going for a brass ring.
"Smart of you, son."
Two hours later, Valentine rode up to the other two Wolves, two bags of oats for the horses across the Morgan's broad back.
"It went well there?" Gonzalez asked.
"Sure. He gave me the feed, and I looked around his place. He seems a nice enough man. I didn't want him to get a look at either of you, just in case."