"Out here, it's usually west-east," the other man said, his lips hidden by a long drape of a mustache. The wide-brimmed man guffawed.
"You still got a good two miles to go before you hit the wagons, I'm afraid," he said. "But we'll get you to the edge of the herd." They turned their horses neatly and began to follow the trail.
"Bar Seven," Duvalier said quietly. "Not one of the larger groups, but tough as nails. They keep to the border country. Rumor has it that they trade with the Jacks, but let ye who are without sin cast the first stone. A lot of the Trekkers do, one way or another."
"What about your Eagle's Wings?" Valentine asked.
"No, they have a serious feud with Kur. Lots of memories from grandfathers in the military. And too many losses while running cattle to Denver. But in a way, this is good-Bar Seven might not want to offend the Eagles by being difficult, since the Eagles are the biggest of the Trekker groups. Once in a while there are disputes over winter pasture, and Bar Seven can't afford to make enemies."
They caught up to the herd, mostly Herefords that looked like they had been toughened up by the addition of a long-horn bull or two. Beyond the herd they could see a little spread of twenty or so wagons. A cowboy with a yellow bandanna tied at his hatband had a few words with the scouts and then rode up to the Cats.
"You want to see the Wagonmaster, huh? You got anything that's worth Mr. Lawson's time?"
"I think Mr. Lawson would like to be able to make that decision, friend," Valentine said.
"Ain't your friend, half-breed. Would like to be your friend though, miss."
Duvalier reached up to shake his hand. "Mister, we've come a long way. Could we please see the Wagonmaster?"
"I'll ride in and ask. Best I can do."
"How about you bring us with you. Saves a little time."
The man pursed his sun-dried lips. Either he had trouble thinking on his own or he had a very strict set of orders to follow.
"The Wagonmaster is a busy man. Where do you come out of?"
"The KZ, to the south," Duvalier said. "But I've ridden with the Eagle's Wings."
That seemed to make the decision easier for the rider. "Be back soon," he said, putting his horse into a trot toward the wagons.
Night blanketed the grassy hills. The Bar Seven cooks rang the supper bell as Valentine and Duvalier finally caught up to the loose ring of wagons. After a boring wait among the cows, the yellow-marked foreman rode back out with news that Wagonmaster Lawson would see them.
Lawson was a broad-shouldered individual with a heavy scar over his forehead, giving him a scraggly eyebrow that looked permanently raised in surprise. He used the back gate of a large wagon as a combination desk and supper table, and was tearing into a blackened piece of beef when they were introduced to him.
"Boy, you might want to take off that vest in here. One of my men might take a shot at you, just out of habit."
Valentine removed the vest, feeling strangely naked without its weight.
"I hear you two rode with the Eagles?"
"Just me," Duvalier said. "Actually, I'd like to get back to them in a hurry. We think the Kur are planning a major raid into you out of North Platte. A real clean sweep."
"Uh-huh," Lawson said. "What makes you say that?"
"A sizable force offloaded from a train in North Platte. Everything from Reapers to Grogs, armed for bear. Even the Reapers will be carrying guns."
"Haw, that's a good one. Skulls with guns! Since when?"
"We both saw it. They're fighting with new tactics. They're scouting the area, and they're going to strike soon. Haven't you seen that little scout plane?"
Lawson looked suddenly uncomfortable. "Ee-yup. As a matter of fact, it circled here a couple times. You think they might be aiming to hit us? Bar Seven, I mean?"
"That we don't know," Valentine said. "We're just trying to warn you."
Lawson scratched his growth of beard. Judging from the whiskers, he shaved only once a week, and according to Valentine's sensitive nose, bathed even less often.
"We really need to get to the Eagle's Wings," Duvalier said, almost pleading. "It's a lot to ask, but if you could loan us a couple of horses ... We don't have much to barter with. A few cigars, a little tea."