Zalia nodded. “We say thankya, Susannah of New York. We say thankya more big-big than could ever be told.”

“Yar, say true,” Rosa agreed.

The lady-sai looked up at them and smiled sweetly. For a moment Rosalita looked a little doubtful, as if maybe she saw something in that dark-brown face that she shouldn’t. Saw that Susannah Dean was no longer here, for instance. Then the expression of doubt was gone. “We go with good news, Susannah,” said she.

“Wish you joy of it,” said Mia, daughter of none. “Bring them back as you will. Tell them the danger here’s over, and let those who don’t believe count the dead.”

“The legs of your pants are wet, do ya,” Zalia said.

Mia nodded gravely. Another contraction had turned her belly to a stone, but she gave no sign. “ ’Tis blood, I’m afraid.” She nodded toward the headless body of the big rancher’s wife. “Hers.”

The women started down through the corn, hand-in-hand. Mia watched Roland, Eddie, and Jake cross the road toward her. This would be the dangerous time, right here. Yet perhaps not too dangerous, after all; Susannah’s friends looked dazed in the aftermath of the battle. If she seemed a little off her feed, perhaps they would think the same of her.

She thought mostly it would be a matter of waiting her opportunity. Waiting…and then slipping away. In the meantime, she rode the contraction of her belly like a boat riding a high wave.

They’ll know where you went,a voice whispered. It wasn’t a head-voice but a belly-voice. The voice of the chap. And that voice spoke true.

Take the ball with you,the voice told her. Take it with you when you go. Leave them no door to follow you through.

Aye.

Eighteen

The Ruger cracked out a single shot and a horse died.

From below the road, from the rice, came a rising roar of joy that was not quite disbelieving. Zalia and Rosa had given their good news. Then a shrill cry of grief cut through the mingled voices of happiness. They had given the bad, as well.

Jake Chambers sat on the wheel of the overturned waggon. He had unharnessed the three horses that were okay. The fourth had been lying with two broken legs, foaming helplessly through its teeth and looking to the boy for help. The boy had given it. Now he sat staring at his dead friend. Benny’s blood was soaking into the road. The hand on the end of Benny’s arm lay palm-up, as if the dead boy wanted to shake hands with God. What God? According to current rumor, the top of the Dark Tower was empty.