The camp was unsettling in one manner, though. It seemed to be devoid of men between fourteen and forty. All Valentine saw were boys and old men. He knew the Gunslingers had suffered losses during the summer's fighting, but he had no idea they were this grievous.
There were plenty of horsemen and vehicles and guns in camp, however. Tikka was there with a column of her all-Kentucky army, and Brother Mark had arrived with a few members of the Assembly and their staff.
"Lots of mouths to feed, mouths that didn't do any planting or weeding or varmint shooting this summer," one of the cooks grumbled as he spooned soup into variegated plastic containers.
Valentine presented Mrs. O'Coombe to the temporary leader of the Gunslingers, an old woman who'd long served as an advisor to their clan's leader. Mrs. O'Coombe quivered like an excited horse as she asked about her son.
The Gunslinger leader asked the camp doctor, who stepped up and cleared his throat. "I have good news for you, madam," he said. "Your son is alive and well. I saw him not four days ago."
"May I see him, please?"
The temporary clan chief shook her head. "He is with our muster. They left to meet the Coonskins on the Kentucky river some ways north of here. Corporal Rockaway is serving with the new army's artillery."
"But-he is a soldier of Southern Command," Mrs. O'Coombe said. "He has four years left. . . ."
"An informal arrangement," the Gunslinger said. "He's still in what's left of the Southern Command Guard uniform. Settle, ma'am; settle. He's just along so we can show strength if they try another decapitation attack. Fine boy you raised."
"It's that Last Chance," Brother Mark said. "Raving about some kind of apocalypse that's going to hit Kentucky. Sad thing is, he's getting a few converts."
Valentine fought his body. It wanted to be up and in action, chopping wood or clearing brush for kindling if nothing else.
"We've had a lot of townies flee to Coonskin territory," the clan leader said. "Mostly people who drew breath thanks to the Kurian Order anyway, so good riddance to them."
"If you would provide me with a guide-," Mrs. O'Coombe said.
"Sorry, ma'am. I hate to say no to a worried mother-I have four myself and one grandchild-but it's a clan rule. When a fighting man is away, no parents, no children, no spouses until the fighting's over."
"But there is to be no fighting," Mrs. O'Coombe said.
"We hope not. As I was saying, our people end up worrying more about their families than the enemy, and they get themselves in trouble that way. But it looks like you brought a few gunmen of your own. If you want to send them up with a message to your boy, they're welcome to join young Tikka upcountry. Until then, I'd like to offer you our hospitality."
Gunslinger hospitality was meager with all the visitors in camp and the holidays emptying larders.
Everyone was talking about the peace conference between the Gunslingers and the Coonskin-Moondaggers northeast of them in the Bluegrass proper. The idea that Kentucky might be allowed to just let the bodies lie and stop the raids and counterraids that had been going on ever since the Moondaggers marched across Kentucky, burning and kidnapping, gave everyone hope for an early spring without gunfire exchanged in Kentucky's tangled dells.
Valentine had the disquieting feeling that their hopes would be in vain. This cease-fire might be the final calm before the storm.
The reinforcements were already pulling out of the Gunslinger winter camp to join the others to the north. Tikka's Army of Kentucky were dressed like scarecrows in everything from denim to black-dyed sports uniforms, but most sported new winter hacking coats in a uniform deerskin brown, A-o-K stenciled on the shoulder. Behind them were guns and commissary wagons. Valentine hadn't seen such a mule train since the campaign in Dallas. The animals looked fresher than the men.
Tikka greeted Mrs. O'Coombe's lined-up staff and Valentine's Southern Command additions. She and a few members of her staff took a quick appreciative look at their bikes and vehicles.
"How are you keeping these beasts fed in the backwoods?" one of the men in a new-looking uniform with a coonskin on the outside of his muffler-style field-jacket collar said.
"We burn organic," Stuck said.
Someone on the staff muttered to a friend about outsiders buying corn oil when there were hungry mouths this lean winter. The comment wasn't meant for him, so Valentine didn't react.
"I don't suppose we can count on that APC up at the peace conference," Tikka said to Stuck.
"We've got a few of our own wounded to take care of. It's mostly a hospital truck."
"Then how about lending your doc and that medical wagon, in case there's a fight."
"I'll ask Mrs. O'Coombe," Stuck said, and walked off.
Habanero was pointing out modifications to the suspension as Tikka walked Valentine back toward the road north.
"You want to join us and see the fun?" Tikka asked.