Blood Red Road

somethin. What is it this time?

    Freedom Fields, says Ike. Well well. Innerestin.
    What d’you know about it? I says.
    No more’n anybody else in this part of the world, he says. I heard about it.
    He looks at Jack before he says it. A quick flick of the eyes, that’s all it is. But it’s enough to make me think he might know more. I’m jest openin my mouth to ask him when a boy comes up an plonks three bowls of stew on the table. I’ll bide my time.
    This boy ain’t seen no more’n fourteen summers. He’s thin an peely-wally, like he don’t ever see the light of day, an he’s all elbows an ears an big clumsy feet. Ike reaches out to ruffle his hair.
    Thanks, son.
    The boy gives Ike a shy smile, ducks his head an hurries away. We tuck in.
    I never knew you had a kid, Ike, says Jack.
    Oh Tommo ain’t my real son, says Ike. He showed up a few winters back. Found him one mornin, huddled in the lean-to with the horses. Starvin … you could count every rib.
    Where’d he come from? says Jack.
    No idea, says Ike. When I asked him, all he said was, “He told me to wait fer him. I waited an waited, but he never come back.” I found out later it was his pa told him to wait. I took him in. What else could I do? Follows me around like a dog. He cain’t hear, but he watches yer lips while you talk. Unnerstands most things that way. He’s a good boy, Tommo. A hard worker.
    Cain’t say I ever thought of you as the fatherly type, says Jack.
    Ike shrugs. Life’s full of surprises, he says. He fills my glass. Gives me a shove with his elbow. Go on, he says, drink up.
    So, says Jack, Freedom Fields. Whaddya think?
    I dunno, says Ike. Business is good. I don’t really wanna—
    Rule of three, Ike, says Jack.
    Ah, says Ike. Well … I cain’t deny that the rule of three applies here.
    What? I says.
    I saved Ike’s life three times, says Jack.
    That means my life belongs to Jack an he can pretty much call the shots, says Ike. I ain’t ever heard of anybody goin that far. Usually it’s more like … callin in a favor.
    But the rule of three’s a … a joke, I says.
    A joke? says Ike, starin at me. Where’d you git that idea?
    Told you, says Jack to me. So, Ike. We could sure use yer help. Will you come with us?
    Sounds like it’s up to you, Ike says to me. He’s yer brother. D’you want my help?
    I look at him. Built like a mountain, with a steady, dark gaze. A good man. Dependable. Those was Jack’s words. An he knows more’n he’s lettin on.
    So does Jack, fer that matter. Maev was right. There’s secrets in them moonshine eyes of his. Jack vexes me. He bothers me. I wish my heart didn’t beat faster every time he comes near me. But I trust him. Even when I cain’t bring myself to speak to him.
    As fer Ike, if Jack says he’s okay, that should be good enough fer me.
    Ike waves a hand in front of my face. Saba, he says, I said d’you want my help?
    Yes, I says. I believe I do.
    He takes a big mouthful of stew an starts to chew. While he chews, you can see him thinkin. Jack an me watch him fer what seems like a long time. Finally he swallows. Wipes the ends of his moustache. Then, We’ll head out in the mornin, he says. Let’s drink on it.

    Somethin tickles my nose. I swat at it without openin my eyes. There’s a giggle.
    Go ’way, I mutter. There’s a poundin inside my head. My mouth’s dry as a dust bowl. I groan.
    Another giggle. Then somethin wet drips onto my forehead. I open one eye. Emmi’s head hangs above me, upside down. She’s holdin a drippin cloth over my head. I shove it away. Movin makes my head even worse. I groan agin.
    Rise an shine! she says.
    Leave me be, I croak.
    Time to git up! she says.
    I cain’t move, I says. There’s somebody poundin on my brain with a hammer.
    That’s what you git from a heavy wet, she says.
    Whadda you know anyways, I mutter.
    I know that you drank too much of Ike’s hooch, she says. Jack says to give you this. It’ll help yer head.
    I drag myself up to lean on my elbows, moanin the whole time. Emmi pushes a tumbler into my hand. I sniff at it.
    What is it?
    Jest drink it, she says. Down in one.
    Where’ve I heard that before? I says. But I do like she says an throw it down my neck in one. I gag. Ohmigawd that’s disgustin! What is it?
    Boar’s blood an a raw pigeon egg, she says. Jack says it’s good fer a hangover.
    Jack says, I mutter. I look around. There ain’t nobody in the tavern but me an Em. Where is everybody?
    Loadin