Chapter 4: Traveling On!

Their stay at the Bottoms Up lasted eight days. Eight glorious days with hot baths, someone else to prepare meals, and bottoms free from the constant rubbing of horseback travel. It wasn’t until the eve of their departure that the travelers thought to learn the village’s name.

“Most folk call our town Nowall,” Marcus responded to Heris’ inquiry. “It is a sarcastic reminder that our merchants refused to pay a tax to build a wall around us. Saw no need until we were victims of a large band of rogues. Then we didn’t have the funds at all – so No Wall!”

“Some were prudent, even back then,” Miles joined in. “Rusty, Marcus, and I kept all but necessary coins in the bank. Others lost their fortunes, such as they might be. Much that you saw during your stay took many years to recover. When Paul chose to retire here and opened his armory, that began Nowall’s current return to prosperity.”

That evening, the three adults made important decisions that apportioned duties for the remainder of their journey. They were seeking the rumored source of the cure for burning cocks – that was for Charlene. For Heris, they sought allies to retake her family’s lands. Flora wanted to find the children’s father and perhaps a place in his household caring for them. At least caring for Earle, as Angélique was clearly approaching the age for marrying! If the goals could not be met at the same time, helping the children was to be first, assuming there were clues to follow.

With the goals in mind, skills were assessed, and Heris was chosen to be their leader – their ‘captain’. The children became Charlene’s primary responsibility – care and protection. Flora would much prefer to ride with the children that she now considered her own, but it was Charlene, who thought she wanted a baby, who now shouldered the anxieties and joys of watching children grow and mature in dangerous situations. Newly acquired from Miles, a matched pair of mules was also assigned to Charlene’s care.

In the very early morning, they ate their last meal at Bottoms Up, hugged their friends all around, and mounted their rested and newly curried horses. Every traveler wore fitted, boiled leathers, and carried a cocked crossbow. Even Earle had his small one, and he was thoroughly drilled in how and when to use it. In a small miracle of happenstance, Angélique – now to be called ‘Andrew’ in public – was reunited with her favorite mount, Patches, lost when she was kidnapped.

By any standard, their group appeared wealthy. Heris’ concerns increased that the visible ‘wealth’ of their cadre would attract even more attempts at them. She rode out leading the band with Flora in her now usual position in the rear.

They rode for an hour, and Heris called for a break near a brook running through an open meadow. They watered the horses and mules, checked saddles and packs, stretched, and took turns watering the daisies. During the pause, Heris stood guard until relieved by Charlene so that she could also use one of the ‘pussy funnels’ to pee. Clad in tight-fitting leathers, women needing to drop their pants would have been far more vulnerable than men during these rests. Heris wanted to make sure they were all comfortable as they rode, and able to wait for another stop should that prove necessary.

Before resuming the ride, Heris explained her reasoning, “For the next few hours, any stand of trees, bend in the road, or resting place likely conceals an ambush. Now that we are some distance from Nowall, I anticipate one any time.”

They rode on and approached a sharp bend in the road, the view of the coming ride blocked by a thick stand of trees.

When it came, it wasn’t so much an ambush as an assault. This bunch was more original than the usual sneak thieves. From the travelers’ rear came the sound of galloping horses – many horses. Were it not that the attackers riding pell-mell at them were shouting with swords drawn, time to recognize and react to their intent would have been severely limited.

Flora whirled, loosed an arrow already nocked, and followed with a second that she had ready to hand. Two of the four riders fell from their horses dead from arrows or broken necks. By the time the remaining two were almost upon her, they were within Charlene’s crossbow range and she fired. She missed the first attacker, but her quarrel struck the following horse. The tumble threw its rider with fatal consequences for both. Then the final rider was upon Flora, who whirled her horse and was narrowly missed by his flashing blade as he rode by, unable to quickly rein in.

Not yet recognizing that he was alone, he too whirled and rode towards Flora with sword raised.

Charlene, as prearranged, dropped her spent crossbow, quickly handed the leads of the pack mules to Angel, and began whirling her lariat. As she neared the fighting pair she shouted, drawing momentary attention from Flora’s opponent. Her noose settled over his shoulders, and she used her favorite maneuver to jerk him from his mount. Cursing, he tried to stand as she continued to keep her rope taut, backing her big roan while Flora unlimbered her crossbow and sent a quarrel into his back.

Trusting the two youngsters to watch her back, the tactician Heris kept her focus to her front. Four more riders approached from around the bend. Had they rushed to attack rather than gloat, their attempt would probably have succeeded. Instead, they drew to a halt, and she recognized the leaders as the two from Miles’ corral.

“I said before that Buster was a fool,” one said with a smirk, “now I’ll have that strawberry roan, and more besides.” Two of the braggart’s followers loosed bolts from their crossbows.