"You're just saying this to keep me from . . . tagging along. Tell me you don't want me to go with you, and I won't."
"I don't want you to go with me for the reasons I just explained."
Her face hardened. "That's not what I meant. You, David, the man."
"Man? Am I?"
"Well, you're not a mule, except you're stubborn as one."
"You need a man with possibilities. I'm-"
"Used up?"
"What makes you say that?"
She sat still for a moment. "It's what my father used to say. About the older generation, the one's who'd seen too much death and change. He said they were still walking and talking, but something in them died-'used up' in the wars. Their families, if they had any, had a hard time."
"I was going to say you need someone to grow old with. I've had ... bad luck with friends."
"It can't be better to be alone."
He shook his head. "Of course not. But it's easier."
Jocelyn was chipper as a robin in spring sunshine for the rest of his recovery. Valentine couldn't tell whether it was a mask or not. The three of them talked long across the firelight as the stars circled overhead, until the embers dimmed and they were only shadows and voices in me darkness.
The next day Jocelyn and Danvers rode southeast with him for a few hours, before saying their good-byes. Danvers shook his hand, and Jocelyn hugged him when they rested their horses at the farewell. Jocelyn broke off the embrace and resaddled her horse; perhaps she was not as eager to leave her brand as she seemed.
"Thank you," Danvers said, taking his reins. His gaze darted to Jocelyn and back again. "For everything."
"Remember... us," Jocelyn said.
"I will. Your people helped more than you know. The General's been given a bloody nose. Maybe he'll run home to his hole for a while. Then I can catch up to him."
With the good-byes said and an annoying mist in his eyes, Valentine turned his horse's head to the road, and tried not to listen with his hard ears to the slow hoofbeats of friends leaving.
This land was thick with stands of cedar, with small, irregular hills sheltering wetter country and woods. Wild-flowers and bees ruled this part of the Dunes. He saw no sign of cattle or the trails of the Trekkers. He was into the borderlands.
He tried to remember what Kurian controlled this area, and thought it to be the one in Kearney. He doubted he would see any Kearney Marshals out this far yet, but there was a chance of a Reaper at night or Trooper patrols in the day. He walked his horse and rode with more caution, keeping to low ground farther from the road.
He approached Broken Bow by throwing a wide loop around to the south. He had known some Quislings to be suspicious as hell of someone riding in from the no-man's-land, but let that same man just circle and come from me other direction, and they were nothing but smiles and "have a cup of Java."
Night was falling by the time he approached the little cluster of pre-Overthrow gas stations and markets, houses and roadside stops.
He came across an old railroad track and dismounted to inspect it. There was no question that it was both little used and had recently had a train pass over it. The rails and ties were in poor shape-even for Quisling-maintained lines-yet the overgrowth had been damaged by a passing train.
He paralleled the tracks and the road, coming into town as the shadows disappeared and evening claimed the town. Only one building, a whitewashed cinder-block corner shop of some substance, had any light burning from windows covered by makeshift shutters. Only the wind moved through the streets.
If there had been a train in town, it had passed on.
Valentine saw the glow of a cigarette in the shadows of an alley, and a Trooper appeared, gun held ready in sentry duty. He pointed the barrel down the road at Valentine.
"Hold it right there. Who are you?"
Valentine halted his horse. "It looks like I'm too late. Did the General's men pull out? I was supposed to deliver a message."
"I don't know you."
"I wouldn't expect you to. I'm from Columbus, not Kearney. I'm going to turn right around, friend. He's obviously gone, and I just had a hard day's ride for nothing."