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at the corners of his mouth as he replied, "We can fill you in part of the
way, Doc, but for some of it we'll just have to wait and see."
"Until when?"
Ryan looked out of the shelter and at the darkening sky as twilight closed in
on the old wag stop.
"Not long, Doc. Not long at all."
THE WORKERS CONTINUED to labor until the light was almost gone and the
temperature had dropped from the blistering heat of the day to the
bone-numbing cold of night. Petey had come into the shelter, cradling his H&K,
and lit a number of oil lamps that were suspended from the poles that also
held up the protective sheeting.
"How long do you usually work?" Ryan asked the sec man.
Petey shrugged, keeping a wary eye on the group but showing no great
hostility.
"Depends on the light, but it's more or less around this time. We get about
fourteen hours of work a day."
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Dean whistled. "That's pretty intensive."
"Eh?" The sec man paused, staring at the boy.
"I mean it's a lot of time and doesn't give you much chance to rest," Dean
explained.
Petey shrugged again. "Sooner we get done, sooner we get paid, and the more
jack we get. Baron Silas is generous if you play straight and work hard. Mean-
eyed fucker if you don't."
"Baron Silas who?" J.B. asked disingenuously.
"You don't catch me out that easily," the sec man said with a wry grin.
"Crow'll let you know all you need when he comes in. And that won't be too
long, so you just be patient," he added, leaving them alone.
The sec man's assumption was correct. It was less than half an hour before
Crow led the workforce into the shelter.
"Glad to see you're all awake and well. I'd guess that the enforced rest may
even have done some good after your long journey," he directed at them before
turning to his own men.
"Bronson, you, Rysh and Hal are on sec duty tonight."
The three men took food and water from the supplies for the sec men who
remained on guard duty, taking them their meal before settling to their own.
While they did this, the remaining workers took their own meal, discussing
with
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one another the day's work and their individual performances. The companions,
listening to them, all noted that the main topic of conversation was getting
the work finished and collecting the large bonus for a quick finish; the men
were graphic about the manner in which they would spend the bonus in a gaudy
house, casting glances at Krysty and Mildred as they did so.
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The two women were the last people to be worried and shocked by such talk,
which was obviously the intention, and Ryan noted that Crow was watching their
reaction. The foreman did nothing to halt such talk, although he was silent
and impassive as he took his meal. The one-eyed warrior guessed that the
foreman said nothing as he wanted to test both the resiliency of the women,
and the ability of their male companions to keep their peace. A swift glance
at his team showed Ryan that they wouldn't be found wanting.
The tone of the conversation continued when Hal, Rysh and Branson returned
from their task and also began to eat. It continued until Crow had finished
his repast, at which point he decided that enough was enough.
"I hope," he said, his quiet and deep voice cutting through the talk and
silencing the others despite its lack of volume, and directing his comments at
the companions, "that you have also partaken of our food and water?"
Ryan assented. "We appreciate you sharing your supplies with us. And I can
appreciate why you did what you did. I figure that mebbe I can trust you
people not to chill us otherwise you would have done it already. What I'm
wondering now is what you want from us, and who you are and where you come
from. Oh yeah, and why you're working out here in the middle of nowhere on an
old wag stop."
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Crow allowed a rare touch of emotion a barely contained humor to creep into
his tone. "Sure there's nothing else?"
"Not yet," the one-eyed warrior countered.
"Okay, let's take it from the top," Crow began. "We all come from a ville
called
Salvation, which lies about three days from here along the remains of the old
road. Salvation is run by Baron Silas Hunter, who's the man who pays our
jack."
"Good jack, by the sound of it," J.B. interjected.
"Certainly is, especially if we finish on schedule or ahead."
"Finish what?"
"This way station. There are a number of old wag stops along this route that
date back to beyond skydark, and our job and the job of other teams like
ours is to get the way stations ready for when the well is open again. 'Cause
Salvation is built around the remains of an old oil well, and the refinery
that went along with it. Baron Silas's folks have always been around these
parts, and they've spent a long, long time trying to get the well and refinery
going."
"And he has?" Ryan asked. When Crow affirmed this, Ryan whistled. "Fresh oil,
refined that's big jack. How did he manage to get the thing going?"
"Baron Silas has a deal going with the barons of all the villes in this
region.
They've bankrolled him in return for a share in the fuel he produces. That's
real power. And they need stops along the road to pick up and rest up on their
way to and from the well. So here we are. Most of us working here are from
Salvation.
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That's not so on other stops. Guess you could say part of the payment is in
manpower."
All Ryan's people exchanged looks. Like anyone in the Deathlands, they knew
how important fuel for wags would be. There were few vehicles left, and those
that had survived were always short of fuel. To have such a source would give
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whoever possessed it, or formed an alliance, immense power.
"So where do we come into it?" Ryan asked finally.
"You don't as such," Crow replied. "You just happened to walk in. You can
either walk away and take your chances, or you can join us and work. If we get
this finished all the quicker because of you, then I guess we can spare a
little jack. Plus you get your weapons back and mebbe the chance to see
Salvation."
"Mebbe?"
Crow shrugged. "Where you go after we finish is up to you. What do you say?"
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