Her laughter stopped abruptly. Roland was advancing on her, a dark shape in the moonlight.

“You jes stay away from me, graymeat,” Detta said, but there was a quiver of nerves in her voice. “You ain’t goan do nothing to me.”

Roland stood before her and for a moment Eddie was sure, completely sure, that the gunslinger had reached the end of his patience and would simply swat her like a fly. Instead, astoundingly, he dropped to one knee before her like a suitor about to propose marriage.

“Listen,” he said, and Eddie could scarcely credit the silky quality of Roland’s voice. He could see much the same deep surprise on Detta’s face, only there fear was joined to it. “Listen to me, Odetta.”

“Who you callin O-Detta? Dat ain my name.”

“Shut up, bitch,” the gunslinger said in a growl, and then, reverting to that same silken voice: “If you hear me, and if you can control her at all—”

“Why you talkin at me dat way? Why you talkin like you was talkin to somebody else? You quit dat honky jive! You jes quit it now, you hear me?”

“—keep her shut up. I can gag her, but I don’t want to do that. A hard gag is a dangerous business. People choke.”

“YOU QUIT IT YOU HONKY BULLSHIT VOODOO MAHFAH!”

“Odetta.” His voice was a whisper, like the onset of rain.

She fell silent, staring at him with huge eyes. Eddie had never in his life seen such hate and fear combined in human eyes.

“I don’t think this bitch would care if she did die on a hard gag. She wants to die, but maybe even more, she wants you to die. But you haven’t died, not so far, and I don’t think Detta is brand-new in your life. She feels too at home in you, so maybe you can hear what I’m saying, and maybe you can keep some control over her even if you can’t come out yet.

“Don’t let her wake us up a third time, Odetta.”

“I don’t want to gag her.

“But if I have to, I will.”

He got up, left without looking back, rolled himself into his blanket again, and promptly fell asleep.

She was still staring at him, eyes wide, nostrils flaring.

“Honky voodoo bullshit,” she whispered.

Eddie lay down, but this time it was a long time before sleep came to claim him, in spite of his deep tiredness. He would come to the brink, anticipate her screams, and snap back.

Three hours or so later, with the moon now going the other way, he finally dropped off.

Detta did no more screaming that night, either because Roland had frightened her, or because she wanted to conserve her voice for future alarums and excursions, or—possibly, just possibly—because Odetta had heard and had exercised the control the gunslinger had asked of her.

Eddie slept at last but awoke sodden and unrefreshed. He looked toward the chair, hoping against hope that it would be Odetta, please God let it be Odetta this morning—