—Is he just blowing? V said.
—He means it, ma’am, Delrey said. And two good marksmen firing from cover with Henry rifles can take down a right smart of men fast, so I don’t fully doubt the story he told. I said to him that we had no intention of robbing him or burning him out. Said we were traveling with a lady and children and they were hungry. The farmer said he didn’t believe ladies existed in the world anymore. Or God either. But he said if we could produce one or the other of them at his fortress and prove him wrong he’d give us an entire smoked ham and send us on our way with his blessing.
—A ham? V said.
—Yes, and you could smell the smokehouse from where we stood talking. Like cooking bacon in a greasy skillet over a campfire. But that man’s about crazy, and I don’t believe we need a ham bad enough to deal with him.
V looked around at the children, at Ellen and the thin navy boys still traveling along. How sickly they looked. She said, Delrey, I believe you lack confidence in our evidence.
—Ma’am?
—Proof that ladies have not gone extinct.
—No, ma’am, not at all. But I will say that Richmond’s a long way back and we’ve all been living rough for a while now. Of course, this is Georgia, and who knows what standards they go by.
—Delrey, is there a state with standards you know and approve?
—Not any I’ve been to.
—I do take your point, about rough traveling, though. Give me twenty minutes to clean up and change clothes, and trowel on a great deal of powder, and then you and I will take the ambulance and go out to this fortress and give it a try. The navy boys should follow along with us. An entire smoked ham and those beautiful greens you found would be a feast for all of us. And plenty of ham biscuits later.
MOTTLED COON HOUNDS BAWLED at their approach with such force that V worried they would rupture a lung. But the nearer she got the more they backed away from the horses and hung near the porch, ready to retreat into the dark underneath.
She pushed the palm of her hand toward them and said, Bad dogs.
The dogs walked angling away, looking at her side-eyed.
She said, Good dogs.
They came forward with their tails wagging.
V said to Delrey, Just introduce me and then after that let me do all the talking. Do not use my real name.
Delrey nodded.
V looked at the boys.
—What? Ryland said.
—Simple, V said. Don’t say my name. I’ll do the talking. Yes?
—We’ve got it, Bristol said.
Ryland said, But what name should we call you?
—Just keep your mouths shut, Delrey said.
THE MAN AND HIS SON—a boy even younger than the navy boys but looking completely dead-eyed—came out the door with their Henry rifles cocked and angled down over their forearms, ready to lift and fire, but being polite about it. Beyond the doorframe and through the front windows, V saw women passing behind the two men, their much-washed homespun dresses ghostly in the brown light of the house, their drained faces and dark eyes glancing outward toward a larger world full of threat.
The man said, What’s all this, then?
—Sir, Delrey said, I would like to introduce Mrs. Anthony Thomas. The lady I mentioned earlier. However I don’t know your name to make a proper introduction.
The boy took his eyes off V and Delrey and twitched his attention toward his father for half a second and then right back at them.
The father said, My name is Mister Wiggins.
Delrey said, Mrs. Thomas, permit me to introduce Mister Wiggins.
—Ma’am, Wiggins said.
He wore no hat to lift and sort of dipped his head toward her an inch. A vestigial bow.
V said, Mister Wiggins, I believe you know of our circumstances, and I didn’t want you to trouble yourself with our difficulties. We all have more than enough responsibility in taking care of our own families.
—Amen, the boy said.
The father let his rifle down and stood its butt against the porch boards. The boy, though, kept alert. There was a good deal of killer about him, and it was why he still lived. The last four years had made a whole generation of young boys—who ought to have been going to school and learning a trade and thrilling deep in their bones just to dance with a girl and peck her on the cheek—into slit-eyed killers with no more tell of emotion than an old riverboat faro gambler.
V climbed down from the ambulance bench and walked toward the porch.
She said, Could I possibly speak a word or two with the lady of the house?
—With who? Wiggins said.
—Your wife? A word, please?
—What purpose?
—Politeness? What but manners do we have left?
Wiggins looked at the boy, but the boy just kept flicking his attention between V and Delrey and Bristol and Ryland. He held his rifle balanced scalelike in his hands, measuring its weight to be ready to lift it fast and fire.
Wiggins said, A minute, please, Missus Thomas.
He went to the
