“I ken ye might ask some of us to throw the dish against the Wolves, when they come.”

“Who told you so?”

“Oh…some little bird whispered it in my ear.”

“Ah. And would you? If asked?”

She showed her teeth in a grin. “Nothing in this life would give me more pleasure.” The teeth disappeared and the grin softened into a true smile. “Although perhaps the two of us together could discover some pleasure that comes close. Would’ee see my little cottage, Roland?”

“Aye. And would you rub me with that magic oil of yours again?”

“Is it rubbed ye’d be?”

“Aye.”

“Rubbed hard, or rubbed soft?”

“I’ve heard a little of both best eases an aching joint.”

She considered this, then burst into laughter and took his hand. “Come. While the sun shines and this little corner of the world sleeps.”

He came with her willingly, and went where she took him. She kept a secret spring surrounded by sweet moss, and there he was refreshed.

Five

Callahan finally returned around five-thirty, just as Eddie, Susannah, and Jake were turning out. At six, Rosalita and Sarey Adams served out a dinner of greens and cold chicken on the screened-in porch behind the rectory. Roland and his friends ate hungrily, the gunslinger taking not just seconds but thirds. Callahan, on the other hand, did little but move his food from place to place on his plate. The tan on his face gave him a certain look of health, but didn’t hide the dark circles under his eyes. When Sarey—a cheery, jolly woman, fat but light on her feet—brought out a spice cake, Callahan only shook his head.

When there was nothing left on the table but cups and the coffee pot, Roland brought out his tobacco and raised his eyebrows.

“Do ya,” Callahan said, then raised his voice. “Rosie, bring this guy something to tap into!”

“Big man, I could listen to you all day,” Eddie said.

“So could I,” Jake agreed.

Callahan smiled. “I feel the same way about you boys, at least a little.” He poured himself half a cup of coffee. Rosalita brought Roland a pottery cup for his ashes. When she had gone, the Old Fella said, “I should have finished this story yesterday. I spent most of last night tossing and turning, thinking about how to tell the rest.”

“Would it help if I told you I already know some of it?” Roland asked.

“Probably not. You went up to the Doorway Cave with Henchick, didn’t you?”

“Yes. He said there was a song on the speaking machine that sent them up there to find you, and that you wept when you heard it. Was it the one you spoke of?”