Part 2 (1/2)

”Don't think of it,” I said. ”I need the company. Mr. Carver doesn't talk much. That's my a.s.sistant. A fine mechanic and a trusty hand in our various misadventures but not a conversationalist.”

From the look on the old man's face it seemed he did not like me much.

I said, ”You are-?”

”Harper,” the woman said. ”Miss Harper.”

”And is this your father?”

He thought for a moment too long before nodding.

”There are Linesmen in town,” I said. I pointed toward the lit window, which was a faint star in the distance.

They both had a kind of hunted look to them. That's why I said that.

”Don't mean to imply anything,” I added. ”Just thought as fellow travelers on these roads you might want to hear the news.”

Old Man Harper nodded again. ”We'll be moving on, Mr. Ransom.”

”Thank you,” said Miss Harper.

I figured that they were most likely just con-artists fleeing the law or escaped indentureds or something of the kind- maybe just possibly they were spies, which was interesting to a degree but in those days of War there was no shortage of spies on the roads. Nevertheless my curiosity was roused. Curiosity has always been my weakness. One of my weaknesses. And besides like Mr. Baxter wrote it is true that opportunity can be found in the most unexpected of places.

”There are Linesmen all along the road east too,” I said. ”And they are checking papers and asking questions about I don't even know what they want to know- who knows how their masters think? Not that I think you have anything to hide from anyone but n.o.body likes an interrogation.”

I nodded to them and made as if to walk away, then turned again and said, ”Listen. If you don't mind cramped conditions Mr. Carver and I are setting out before dawn. You may not credit it looking at me but our papers are all in order so far as I know, and we could use a couple of extra hands, the roads being what they are these days.”

He said, ”No thank you, Mr. Ransom.” And at the same time she said, ”Where are you headed?”

I waved a hand toward the big black night and I said, ”no place in particular. Wherever business takes me.”

”Well, Mr. Ransom, we're heading east.”

”Any place in particular?”

Old Man Harper said, ”It's a family affair.”

”Well,” I said, ”It so happens that right now business takes me back east toward Jasper City.”

”You're a long way from Jasper City,” said Old Man Harper. ”About as far as you can get. You've got a sideways kind of way of going about things if you're heading for Jasper City.”

I waved away his objections. ”I have business there,” I said, and smiled at Miss Harper. ”With Mr. Alfred Baxter himself.”

That was half-true. As I saw it back then I had business with Mr. Baxter whether he knew it or not. Besides I had thought the name might impress her. It did not.

Something about her said, as clear as if she were branded with it, that she had some secret she wished to tell, that she needed to tell, and that sooner or later she would have to tell someone.

She shrugged, exhausted, and succ.u.mbed to temptation.

”Maybe for a little way,” she said.

I smiled.

The dog had one eye open and was regarding the two of them calmly and without great interest. It is not true what they say about dogs and their sixth sense.

Meanwhile the man who claimed to be Miss Harper's father looked at me for a moment like he was reckoning the most efficient way of killing me, then having quickly reached a conclusion looked east past me and seemed to be scheming something unguessable.

”But n.o.body travels for free,” I said. ”Nothing in this world is free. Ma'am, can you cook? Sir, can you shoot?”

Well as it turned out later she was not much of a cook, but he most certainly could shoot.

Mr. Carver wasn't so happy to be woken in the dark hours of morning so that we could pack up and leave town like thieves, especially since for once we owed n.o.body money. Nor did he seem to care for our new traveling companions, but he kept his own counsel.

The sun rose as we got a couple of miles out of Clementine. There was a roaring noise and a bad smell and a black Line motor-car came up from behind us. As it pa.s.sed us by it slowed a little, and though the car's window was black too I thought I could make out the gray face of an Officer of the Line examining us. The Harpers were safely in the back of the wagon with the Apparatus and all he saw was me and Mr. Carver and the horses. I nodded but did not wave and the face receded into the black gla.s.sy depths as the car accelerated past us into the distance. It frightened the horses, and then it scared up a big family of black birds out of the fields. The flock rose up across the huge pink sky like a lady raising the lace hem of her skirt. Mr. Carver cursed and shook his head. Otherwise he said nothing.

CHAPTER 4.

ON THE ROAD.

It has been a few days since I last returned to these pages. Red ants have made a home in the remarkable triplicate typewriter. I do not have the heart to oust them. Fortunately they do not seem to mind the clatter of the typewriter. I guess these are frontier ants and they know how to make do in tough conditions.

We have been camped for a few days while the Beck Brothers haggle for provisions with farmers. Farmers here and everywhere in these parts mistake us for a lost regiment or unemployed mercenaries and they have a tendency to bring us tribute in hopes that we will move on. It is a constant temptation but I insist that we pay our way. In Ransom City every man and woman will get a fair deal.*

Red ants have also made a home in the Apparatus, where they are less welcome. The Apparatus is delicate and dangerous. I have driven them from their hiding places like an angel of wrath.

It is not easy traveling with the Apparatus. Rivers are a particular problem, so is rain, so are ants. But what good will Ransom City be if it doesn't have the Process lighting its streets? The Beck Brothers keep asking to see the Apparatus in action. Not yet, I say. Not until we get there. No matter how cold or dark it gets at night. It is not to be trifled with.

I guess I should try to say what the Ransom Process is. I hope that in the future when you read this everyone will learn in school about the Process but maybe your education has been deficient.

*The records of the court of Glendale town, Nevison County, make frequent reference to the four Beck brothers- enough brawls, affrays, breaches of the peace, and insults to decorum to fill another book, ending in Erskine Beck's conviction for horse-theft and the brothers' disappearance from the town's records and one a.s.sumes the town itself. One imagines the Beck brothers were not so scrupulous about temptation as Mr. Ransom hoped. -EMC ”So what, precisely, is the Ransom Process?”

So said Miss Elizabeth Harper, pausing from her work, pus.h.i.+ng some strands of golden hair back from her flushed and sweating forehead, smiling.

”You'll see it work to night,” I said.

”You're coy, Mr. Ransom.”

”I am wise,” I said. ”And call me Harry.”