The four wagons were standard US of Boise army-issue, rated to carry a ton and a half of cargo beneath their canvas tilts. Half of the guerillas were already in Boise’s uniforms and hoop-armor as well; now they put on the helmets, low-crowned affairs with a flared neck-guard and folding cheek-pieces. When they tied the cords to those beneath their chins little could be seen of their faces, and they took the shields and javelins from the vehicles and fell in with a creditable imitation of the smooth precision to be expected.

Ritva pitched in with harnessing the six-mule teams; the familiar task helped her calm herself, long slow breaths easing the knot in her belly until she felt loose and relaxed. She pulled on her close-fitting steel cap of blackened steel, climbed into the wagon and lay down, checking that all her weapons were ready once more, and that her eye was near one of the knotholes in the planks which made up its side so that she could look out. The Ponderosa pine wood was new, and she could smell the sap. It was a little thin, too, flexing where she pressed against it.

Some contractor is padding his accounts using unseasoned wood that’s not of the right grade. Tsk!

The thought almost made her laugh, but you couldn’t let your emotions loose at a time like this, even positive ones were a risk. In a way, a sudden surprise was easier than methodical waiting; you just reacted by trained reflex. She let her mind drift instead, mainly going back over the day she’d spent at the Drover’s Delight before the stretched-out arrival of the others.

Ian really is sweet, she thought happily. And smart and funny and good with his hands . . . in more ways than one. But I’m definitely not going to go live on a farm in northern Drumheller, ever, ever, ever. If you shout there at Yule the sound doesn’t thaw out enough to hear until Ostara! Shudder! Oh, well, the war’s likely to last a while. We’ll see.

The object of her meditation crawled into the wagon and wiggled through the other Dúnedain until he was snuggled behind her; mainly symbolic, when you were wearing a mail shirt.

“Not very private,” he murmured. “In the Peace River, we have sleigh rides for courting. A nice buffalo robe can conceal a multitude of sins.”

“Shhh!” she said affectionately.