this state of affairs going on almost indefinitely.
Even Wolf had fallen into the pattern. He now announced his arrival at the wagon at dawn or twilight with a howl, and the dogs had come to respond by howling back.
Also he had preempted the box-sided back steps of the wagon as his own place when traveling with them. He was enclosed and secure—and
But now, all at once, Jeebee found himself face-to-face again with the prospect of pushing on alone. Particularly alone, that would be, if Wolf would not come with him after setting up his relationships with Merry, Greta, and the other wagon dogs. The thought of being alone once more was like having cold water dumped over him, just when he had grown accustomed to a warm and gentle shower, to waken his sleep-chilled body in the morning.
“Where did you say we were?”
“Just short of the Bighorns,” said Paul. “Day after tomorrow, I turn south. I thought you’d want to make plans.”
“Yes, I’ll have to,” said Jeebee, his mind lost in a welter of questions. He was trying to summon up a picture of the Wyoming-Montana border and how the geography of Montana was, farther north. It had been nearly fifteen years since he had visited his brother’s ranch; and he had been only twelve years old. He had flown into Billings, his brother had met him at the airport, and driven for about an hour and a half to get to the ranch. They had driven north to Musselshell, which they had passed through just before they reached the edges of his brother’s ranch.
“I wish I had a better idea of how the land lies around here,” he said almost to himself.
Without a word, Paul reached behind the wagon seat and came up with a folded paper that he passed to Jeebee.
Jeebee took it and unfolded it. It was an AAA auto map showing Montana and sections of the bordering states of Wyoming, South and North Dakota. He spread it on his knees, studying it.
“Do you want some advice?” Paul asked.
“Yes.” Jeebee looked up at the other man with the blue eyes and the gray beard. “I need all the help I can get. All the advice I can get.”
“Well… ” Paul passed the reins to Jeebee. “Here, you take the team.”
He took the map off Jeebee’s knees and, laying it on his own knees, began with one finger to trace a route.
“Here you are, approaching what’s left of Buffalo from the east, on 1-90. Now, you don’t want to get into the mountains, particularly not the Bighorns. I’d suggest you start off straight north, going around Buffalo and Sheridan, and swing east when you get into Montana, to avoid the reservation, here. You might not get into any trouble trying to go straight through it, and it certainly takes you out of your way not to, but things are a little different in reservation territory—and who can blame them? No, I’d suggest you go around it, then hit back northwest—from what you’ve told me your brother’s ranch is about midway up the state, pretty much in the middle?”
“The last town I can remember him taking me through on the way there, years ago when I was small, was Musselshell,” Jeebee answered. He no longer felt any need to conceal his general destination from any of these people.
“All right, then,” said Paul, his finger pushing up the paper. “You head roughly northwest after you swing around the eastern edge of the reservation; in fact after you’ve gone between it and the Custer National Forest, go straight north across old highway 94 and right on to here. Here’s Musselshell, on highway 12. I mean the town of Musselshell.”
Jeebee nodded.
“I’d give you this map to take with you,” said Paul, “only it’s one of those things that aren’t easy to find nowadays—”
“It’s all right,” Jeebee interrupted, “one of the things I managed to hold on to in my backpack was my road maps for that part of the route—like this one.”
“Then you’re taken care of,” said Paul. “Hand me back the reins.”
CHAPTER 12
“Now,” said Paul, “with the map business settled, we’ve got something else to talk about. Remember, we never settled on exactly what you’d get by way of pay?”
Jeebee, who had begun to leave the wagon seat, sat back down again.
“I forgot all about it,” he said.
“You’d make a fine peddler,” Paul said dryly. “Well, let’s talk about it now. You put in well over a month with us—call it two months—so that’d be two months wages plus how many gold pieces did you say you had in that belt of yours?”
“Twenty-three,” Jeebee answered unthinkingly.
“All right,” said Paul. “What I can give you for that is essentially one riding horse, ammunition for those two rifles of yours, and some basic food supplies, flour, bacon, and maybe some other things like baking soda and salt and sugar. I can’t give you winter clothes, but I’ve got blankets and three plastic tarpaulins that’ll match well enough with the one you’ve got to let you set up something more than a pup tent; plus a saddle, rope, and packing gear. But that’s about it.”
“No packhorse?” said Jeebee.
“No packhorse,” said Paul. “If you’re smart, you’ll use the horse I give you as a packhorse and travel on foot. Also, you’d better watch your wolf with a single horse. I’m sorry. But I’m stretching what your stuff’s worth as it is. Oh, I’ll get my money back in the long run when I find somebody who’s really hoarding gold and is willing to pay a good price for those gold coins. But I’m going to have to hang on to them for some time—and that’s just plain not good business. You need to turn over your goods and keep turning them over fast if you want to make enough profit to live on. This wagon has to be practically rebuilt after each year’s trip. Did you realize that? New material for it costs. As it is, I’ll have the equivalent of the worth of the one horse I give you tied up in those coins a year or more, and not likely to get it back until I find a buyer at the price I want.”
“Well,” said Jeebee, dispirited. “If you can’t, you can’t.”
“I’m sorry,” said Paul. “We’ve all ended up liking you, and we’d do what we could for you. But nowadays it just isn’t practical for us to act as a charity. All sorts of things can happen, from me getting sick or killed on down, that could put Merry in a bind. There’s no real cash going around anymore; but what used to be called ‘cash flow’ is still important. You need things that can be turned over fast and you need somebody who knows how to turn them that way. I’m responsible in both directions. We’d help you more if we could. But we can’t.”
“Even Merry?” Jeebee said, with a slight stab of emotion that made him speak before he thought.
“Now look here,” said Paul, “there’s something you’ve got to understand. Merry probably likes you better than anyone else we’ve ever taken on with us at the wagon. But she’s known from the start that you’re going to take off again. And her life is tied to this wagon. It’s her security as well as mine. She couldn’t leave and go with you, for instance. And you’re determined to go. Wasn’t that just what you said?”
Jeebee hesitated.
“If I didn’t have to go, I’d really like to stay,” he said. “I want you to know that.”
“Well, there you are,” said Paul. “It’s self-defense on her part. She can’t afford to get too attached to a young fellow like you, one she’ll never see again, possibly.”
“You mean ‘probably,’ don’t you?” Jeebee said wryly.
“If you want the truth, yes,” Paul answered. “Nick tells me you’re good with weapons. Not the greatest shot, but good at handling and taking care of them. You’ve learned a lot with us about horses and trading and something of blacksmithing, plus a few other things. Count that learning as part of your pay. But there’s something about you. You’re a born innocent, Jeebee. You’ve got to understand that. The same thing that made you look right at your figures, or whatever they were, and see the world was going smash but still believe that somehow it wouldn’t have anything to do with you—that’s still with you. Until you learn this is a different world nowadays, that you’re
