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Chapter Thirty-eight

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It wasn’t hard findin’ the right homestead holler. Homestead. What the Hamlet folk still call the later settlers’ homes—those generations who came well after the Range was opened with the expiration of the Covenant. As though they were less honorable comin’ once it was civilized, didn’t give to the community as much—took more than they gave.

Maybe my chest is seethin’ a bit still.

Seein’ inequity everywhere.

Zia didn’t have to give me a postal address. I knew the holler just by her description, where she was raised. Spent more time explorin’ every crick, nook, and cranny within fifty miles of the Lake with Ike, between our development of the next big application. We would never need a map to get anywhere. A brief description of an outcrop or stand of trees is all it takes.

Within a rock throw of where I stood, there were a half dozen similar lookin’ homes carved into the mountain, as the trolls love to do. Light enterin’ one room is more than enough for a troll. On the Plain ya’d call these dugouts. Dugins is a better term here. So which of the six did her parents live in?

I didn’t mind knockin’ on every door until I found the right one. But I didn’t have to. One straight in front of me drew inward, and a troll bull peered out, blinkin’ hard against the glare off the snow.

“’S’pose ya’re him,” he said.

Didn’t expect he had to define which him. I nodded.

“Ya gonna stand there til ya freeze, or come in?”

“I’d like that,” I said.

“The freezin’ part?” he asked. The hint of a grin etched up against a massive tusk.

“If I’m not intrudin’,” I said.

He waved me forward. I followed, steppin’ down out of the snow onto a shiny marble slab. Zia’s papa had to push a bit to get the door closed, as the snow had leaned in. He’d be gettin’ out soon to shovel his walk off again.

Just like ogre homes, though there wasn’t a separate mudroom, there was a bench next to the door, and I sat to wipe my feet with the rough-woolen towel there.

Startled me a bit when the bull knelt to perform the traditional welcome. He wiped my feet, before we stood to shake hands, and he introduced me to his mate.

Another younger hen poked her head out from behind her mama’s flowin’ pink and tangerine-colored dungarees. The younger sister Zia talked on and on about, Mul.

I shook their hands and the hen hurried to offer me a hot tea. Not my normal drink, but I accepted. This had started better than I expected, better than I figgered it would end.

The sittin’ room may have been a bit chilly, considerin’ the archin’ bay-style window let in more than just sunlight. A fireplace blazed in the next room, what looked like a combined kitchen and dinin’ room. Not to say there wasn’t an up-to-date furnace keepin’ the home warm—a troll’s warm. Actually, felt hot to me after bein’ on the frozen Lake so long.

“Phone’s been ringin’ so much I turned it off,” he said as the three of us settled in the attractive settees circlin’ the room. “Apologize if ya tried to warn us ya were comin’.”

“Didn’t have that kind of forethought, actually,” I admitted. Just knew considerin’ the stupidity floodin’ the Hamlet, had to get here fast.

The sister was no doubt glued to the wall in the next room listenin’ in. I almost suggested invitin’ her in, but realized I should defer to their ways. Trolls aren’t that different from ogres, but we don’t share the exact cultural norms. I suspected.

“Ya suppose it’s a bit unnatural?” he asked.

He didn’t specify the it. Didn’t have to. Wasn’t gonna beat around the bush either. I didn’t expect he would. I hadn’t ever gotten the impression trolls are timid creatures. Hens are a bit quiet. Not bulls.

“First of all, ya realize Zia and I have hardly met. Just gettin’ to know each other as friends.”

The sister entered with a tray holdin’ four troll-sized cups, handed ’em around, then sat with her own next to her mama. I kind of liked that. The heat of my cup radiated in my hand. I could have used a bit more coverage durin’ the long walk across the Lake, and the three feet of snow clingin’ to the top of the ice. Snow shoes would have been perfect. Stupid of me not to stop by my cabin. Had that thought half-way here. Maybe this visit could be called compulsive.

I needed to get my head back on topic. “Thin’s have been blown briskly out of proportion. Firstly wanna apologize for that.”

The bull nodded and took a sip of his tea.

“She talks about ya most fondly,” Zia’s ma, Eacy, said. “Hangs by her phone waitin’ for ya to call.”

Really? Maybe a smile snuck out. I was tryin’ for a staid, adult-sort of demeanor.

“She never came home last night,” the sister offered. Her cheeks turned a bit red. Her mama gave her a sharp look.

I hurried to explain, “We sat and talked. Just talked.”

“And ya kissed a couple times,” her mama said.

It was my cheeks’ turn to redden. Not a lot of secrets between daughter and mama. And they’d been in conversation pretty darn fast.

“Ya can understand we worry about her reputation, her future,” her pa said.

I nodded. Now what? My throat was closin’ in. I might not be able to breathe in a moment. Had the younger daughter poisoned me? I set my cup down, clankin’ it loudly on the side table, and tried to clear my throat.

“She says she’s in love,” the sister said.

Mama struck her with a ya-behave look again. Papa studied his tea.

“Loves me?” strolled out between my tusks, uninvited.

“Yar clan is well respected,” her mama said. “We’ve known of ya yar entire life. Never seen ya behave in any way other than honorably. Folk have always been hard on ya, not just heard, but I’ve observed first hand. No secrets in the hollers or the Hamlet.”

My head was doin’ that expandin’ thin’ again. Spinnin’ a bit.

“Ogres and trolls are closely related,” her pa said. “Don’t really see much reason for the excitement.”

Air escaped from the dirigible that’s my lungs. This is—not what I expected.

“Not to say it doesn’t lean unnatural,” her mama said.

“I had a long conversation with our clan leader,” her pa said.

That sounded more serious. I waited.

But her mama spoke. “Surprised he almost laughed it off.”

“Really?” I didn’t mean to say that.

“But that could just be ’cause he believes it won’t lead anywhere,” her pa said.

“Be cool, related to the richest folk this side of the North Plain,” the sister said.

Mama glared at her youngest. “Did we invite ya into the conversation?”

The daughter laughed. Shrugged. “Ya gotta admit he’s handsome, for an ogre. And it took some mighty tusks—”

“Watch yar mouth,” her mama warned.

“To stroll over here and face us.”

Did not expect this to go this way. “Sir. Uh.” Cleared my throat. “May I have yar permission to. Uh.”

“I’m not gonna kill ya or run ya off. Just treat my daughter with respect and we’ll accept ya as an honorable bull.”

His face turned a little fierce as he leaned forward, shoulders squared toward me, but even if his outer demeanor didn’t match his words, I would take ’em over many other alternatives that had washed through my thoughts on the way here.

“Ya do her wrong I’ll rip yar head off and stuff it in the outhouse.”

That’s more like I expected. Though I don’t believe there are any outhouses anywhere near us. For a couple generations. But it did paint a colorful image.

~

Nuel

~

“Ya know where Kriz is?” Ike asked.

“Couldn’t ya ever once ask about me first, when ya call?” I tried to keep the whine out of my voice. I’m the ogre with the big ole hole in the shoulder. I was willin’ to accept a little sympathy-attention.

“Ya jealous of my cousin?” he teased.

“More than ya can believe,” I said.

“Darshee and Wizper been livin’ that for two decades.”

Two. Decades? “Like that’s supposed to make me feel better, ya idjit?” I hissed.

He chuckled. The bull is more irritatin’ than a dozen fire ant stings. The plains have a lot of the blasted creatures. I learned about ’em quickly, travelin’ south with Ike. In the Range I’ve heard it’s more about scorpions and centipedes. Maybe that’s why trolls love the Range so much.

“So do ya or doncha ya?” he asked.

“I’m enjoyin’ my stay at the inn,” I said. Jeez. I’m the one with a bullet through my shoulder. “Thanks for askin’. When ya expect to get here?”

“Have I mentioned I’m sort of the central figure on the continent workin’ to avoid all-out war?”

“Didn’t know ya were so unable to multitask, Mr. World Leader. Heard that an overly narrow focus is a key deficit in bulls. Must be true. Have ya found time to chat with yar ma? I understand she’s a little irritated with ya too.”

He said, “Pa was a little startled not to find her home this morn’ when he got back.”

A lightenin’ bolt may have worked its way through my spine. “What? Is she okay?”

“See. Ya ask about her. But ya never ask how I’m doin’.”

The stinkin’ bull. “Where is she?” I hissed.

“Grandpa Klow sent a helicopter to take her to the ranch. He didn’t much like Pa bein’ away leavin’ her alone with those Northerners camped on the South Plain within a rock throw.”

“How’d that come out, by the way?” I asked.

“I’m doin’ dandy. Thanks for askin’.”

I considered if that was fair. “Ya raised the topic, not me,” I said.

Ike chuckled. “I hear those state troopers are grumblin’ a lot. We got ’em stuck in a barn owned by one of our clan folk, who raises sheep on the North Slope. ’Em Northerners don’t like the cold, or seem to like the smell embedded in the hay. I’m cryin’ alligator tears for ’em.”

“Ya haven’t sent ’em home? How come?”

“Once our cousins and business folk stop gettin’ harassed, I’ve told their leadership folk I’ll consider it.”

“Not for nothin’, but is that really yar decision? How’d ya get stuck in the middle of this?” I asked if the Council had even charged ’em with a crime.

He laughed this time. “Should be our council leader’s decision,” he admitted. “He’s a tetch irritated that I continue to refuse to officially take on the leadership role, since thin’s began gettin’ ugly. He kind of liked the privileges and perks that came with the job until recently.”

If Ike wasn’t an ogre bull I would have sworn he giggled. “He’s more political than me. Except for strugglin’ to make the tough decisions, he’s better at the job than I ever would be. Besides, not like I have time for the position full-time.”

I asked how the whole leadership question gets resolved. Don’t know why I’m curious. Surprisin’ly he took the time to explain his clan had always led the Black Lake Council, but that clan leadership came down to a clan elder vote. Since he refused the council leadership, as the clan leader, it fell to a council vote, of the eleven clan leaders.

I didn’t realize the Range bragged eleven clans. Wasn’t sure there were even that many on the West Plain, where all of our kind immigrated from. Did Pa tithe to any of ’em? Our fraternal roots are a little frayed after four generations in the North.

“So. Ya know where Kriz is or not?” he asked.

“Ya sendin’ the bull out to free hostages?”

“Somethin’ like that,” he said, which tightened my throat. Kriz had enough goin’ on at the moment.

“I know he’s got a lot on his mind,” Ike said, soundin’ apologetic, “But Piez asked for his help clarifyin’ our position on the plains. Claims Kriz has an uncanny ability to think outside the box.”

“And ya’re good draggin’ him in?” I asked. The surprise in my voice probably oozed.

“Not like I’ll command him to do it, as though I could. If he wants to help, I’ll give him a fleet of warbirds to do what he wants with ’em.”

“Warbirds?” I asked.

“Ya seen those wicked attack helicopters? They are so freakin’ cool. I’m callin’ ’em warbirds ’cause I like the word. When this is over I’m gonna buy one for OW.”

I sighed. I could easily grow to hate all bulls. I wanted to ask where he got the helicopters to begin with, but it wasn’t lost on me that Ike had been in the South now for a couple weeks.

“Kriz left the inn about two hours ago. Ya should have seen the place. It was insane.”

“Ya aren’t the first person to tell me that,” he said. “I heard about yar outburst too. Kudos. That’ll draw a lot of respect from some in the clan. So, will ya look for him, for me, please? He has his cell turned off.”

“Don’t blame him,” I said. Wait. Didn’t Ike have somethin’ like thirty thousand cousins in and about the Hamlet? It occurred to me that maybe Ike thinks his other cousins are bigger idjits than I observed today. So I’m the standup on this stage. I’m not sure that’s sayin’ much.