“No,” Roland agreed. “As long as business is good, the Tooks of the world never touch the feather. Nor say aye.”

“Overholser’s with him.”

This was a blow. Not an entirely unexpected one, but he’d hoped Overholser would come around. Roland had all the support he needed, however, and supposed Overholser knew it. If he was wise, the farmer would just sit and wait for it to be over, one way or the other. If he meddled, he would likely not see another year’s crops into his barns.

“I wanted ye to know one thing,” Eisenhart said. “I’m in with’ee because of my wife, and my wife’s in with’ee because she’s decided she wants to hunt. This is what all such things as the dish-throwing comes to in the end, a woman telling her man what’ll be and what won’t. It ain’t the natural way. A man’s meant to rule his woman. Except in the matter of the babbies, o’course.”

“She gave up everything she was raised to when she took you to husband,” Roland said. “Now it’s your turn to give a little.”

“Don’t ye think I know that? But if you get her killed, Roland, you’ll take my curse with you when ye leave the Calla. If’ee do. No matter how many children ye save.”

Roland, who had been cursed before, nodded. “If ka wills, Vaughn, she’ll come back to you.”

“Aye. But remember what I said.”

“I will.”

Eisenhart slapped the reins on the horse’s back and the fly began to roll.

Eight

Each woman halved a sharproot head at forty yards, fifty yards, and sixty.

“Hit the head as high up into the hood as you can get,” Roland said. “Hitting them low will do no good.”

“Armor, I suppose?” Rosalita asked.

“Aye,” Roland said, although that was not the entire truth. He wouldn’t tell them what he now understood to be the entire truth until they needed to know it.

Next came the taters. Sarey Adams got hers at forty yards, clipped it at fifty, and missed entirely at sixty; her dish sailed high. She uttered a curse that was far from ladylike, then walked head-down to the side of the privy. Here she sat to watch the rest of the competition. Roland went over and sat beside her. He saw a tear trickling from the corner of her left eye and down her wind-roughened cheek.

“I’ve let ye down, stranger. Say sorry.”

Roland took her hand and squeezed it. “Nay, lady, nay. There’ll be work for you. Just not in the same place as these others. And you may yet throw the dish.”

She gave him a wan smile and nodded her thanks.