you? That’s a big country, Beth. There’s deserts and mountains that go on forever.”
“Will you do it?”
“Can I eat first?”
Jeremiah enjoyed the wounded man’s company, but there was much about Shannow that concerned him, and he confided his worries to Dr. Meredith. “He is a very self-contained man, but I think he remembers far less than he admits. There seems to be a great gulf in his memory.”
“I have been trying to recall everything I read about protective amnesia,” Meredith told him. “The trauma he sufferedwas so great that his conscious mind reels from it, blanking out vast areas. Give him time.”
Jeremiah smiled. “Time is what we have, my friend.”
Meredith nodded and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the darkening sky. A gentle wind was drifting down across the mountains, and from there he could smell the cottonwood trees by the river and the grass from the hillsides.
“What are you thinking?” asked Jeremiah.
“It is beautiful here. It makes the evil of the cities seem far away and somehow inconsequential.”
Jeremiah sighed. “Evil is never inconsequential, Doctor.”
“You know what I mean,” chided Meredith. Jeremiah nodded, and the two men sat for a while in companionable silence. The day’s journey had been a good one, with the wagons moving over the plains and halting in the shadows of a jagged mountain range. A little to the north was a slender waterfall, and the Wanderers had camped beside the river that ran from it. The women and children were roaming a stand of trees on the mountainside, gathering dead wood for the evening fires, while most of the men had ridden off in search of meat. Shannow was resting in Jeremiah’s wagon.
Isis came into sight, bearing a bundle of dry sticks, which she let fall at Jeremiah’s feet. “It wouldn’t do you any harm to work a little,” she said. Both men noticed her tired eyes and the faintest touch of purple on the cheeks below them.
“Age has its privileges,” he told her, forcing a smile.
“Laziness more like,” she told him. She swung to face the sandy-haired young doctor. “And what is your excuse?”
Meredith reddened and rose swiftly. “I am sorry. I … wasn’t thinking. What do you want me to do?”
“You could help Clara with the gathering. You could have cleaned and prepared the rabbits. You could be out hunting with the other men. Dear God, Meredith, you are a useless article.” Spinning on her heel, she stalked away, back toward the wood.
“She is working too hard,” said Jeremiah.
“She’s a fighter, Jeremiah,” Meredith answered sadly. “Butshe’s right. I spend too much time lost in thoughts, dreaming, if you like.”
“Some men are dreamers,” said Jeremiah. “It’s no bad thing. Go and help Clara. She’s a little too heavily pregnant to be carrying firewood.”
“Yes … yes, you’re right,” Meredith agreed.
Alone now, Jeremiah made a circle of stones and carefully laid a fire. He did not hear Shannow approach and glanced up only when he heard the creak of wood as the man sat in Meredith’s chair. “You’re looking stronger,” said the old man. “How do you feel?”
“I am healing,” said Shannow.
“And your memory?”
“Is there a town near here?”
“Why do you ask?”
“As we were traveling today, I saw smoke in the distance.”
“I saw it, too,” said Jeremiah, “but with luck we’ll be far away by tomorrow night.”
“With luck?”
“Wanderers are not viewed with great friendliness in these troubled times.”
“Why?”
“That’s a hard question, Mr. Shannow. Perhaps the man who is tied to a particular piece of land envies us our freedom. Perhaps we are viewed as a threat to the solidity of their existence. In short, I don’t know why. You might just as well ask why men like to kill one another or find hatred so easy and love so difficult.”
“It is probably territorial,” said Shannow. “When men put down roots, they look around
“Will you do it?”
“Can I eat first?”
Jeremiah enjoyed the wounded man’s company, but there was much about Shannow that concerned him, and he confided his worries to Dr. Meredith. “He is a very self-contained man, but I think he remembers far less than he admits. There seems to be a great gulf in his memory.”
“I have been trying to recall everything I read about protective amnesia,” Meredith told him. “The trauma he sufferedwas so great that his conscious mind reels from it, blanking out vast areas. Give him time.”
Jeremiah smiled. “Time is what we have, my friend.”
Meredith nodded and leaned back in his chair, staring up at the darkening sky. A gentle wind was drifting down across the mountains, and from there he could smell the cottonwood trees by the river and the grass from the hillsides.
“What are you thinking?” asked Jeremiah.
“It is beautiful here. It makes the evil of the cities seem far away and somehow inconsequential.”
Jeremiah sighed. “Evil is never inconsequential, Doctor.”
“You know what I mean,” chided Meredith. Jeremiah nodded, and the two men sat for a while in companionable silence. The day’s journey had been a good one, with the wagons moving over the plains and halting in the shadows of a jagged mountain range. A little to the north was a slender waterfall, and the Wanderers had camped beside the river that ran from it. The women and children were roaming a stand of trees on the mountainside, gathering dead wood for the evening fires, while most of the men had ridden off in search of meat. Shannow was resting in Jeremiah’s wagon.
Isis came into sight, bearing a bundle of dry sticks, which she let fall at Jeremiah’s feet. “It wouldn’t do you any harm to work a little,” she said. Both men noticed her tired eyes and the faintest touch of purple on the cheeks below them.
“Age has its privileges,” he told her, forcing a smile.
“Laziness more like,” she told him. She swung to face the sandy-haired young doctor. “And what is your excuse?”
Meredith reddened and rose swiftly. “I am sorry. I … wasn’t thinking. What do you want me to do?”
“You could help Clara with the gathering. You could have cleaned and prepared the rabbits. You could be out hunting with the other men. Dear God, Meredith, you are a useless article.” Spinning on her heel, she stalked away, back toward the wood.
“She is working too hard,” said Jeremiah.
“She’s a fighter, Jeremiah,” Meredith answered sadly. “Butshe’s right. I spend too much time lost in thoughts, dreaming, if you like.”
“Some men are dreamers,” said Jeremiah. “It’s no bad thing. Go and help Clara. She’s a little too heavily pregnant to be carrying firewood.”
“Yes … yes, you’re right,” Meredith agreed.
Alone now, Jeremiah made a circle of stones and carefully laid a fire. He did not hear Shannow approach and glanced up only when he heard the creak of wood as the man sat in Meredith’s chair. “You’re looking stronger,” said the old man. “How do you feel?”
“I am healing,” said Shannow.
“And your memory?”
“Is there a town near here?”
“Why do you ask?”
“As we were traveling today, I saw smoke in the distance.”
“I saw it, too,” said Jeremiah, “but with luck we’ll be far away by tomorrow night.”
“With luck?”
“Wanderers are not viewed with great friendliness in these troubled times.”
“Why?”
“That’s a hard question, Mr. Shannow. Perhaps the man who is tied to a particular piece of land envies us our freedom. Perhaps we are viewed as a threat to the solidity of their existence. In short, I don’t know why. You might just as well ask why men like to kill one another or find hatred so easy and love so difficult.”
“It is probably territorial,” said Shannow. “When men put down roots, they look around
Similar Books
