“Hile, gunslinger,” the man who had been walking beside Overholser said, and this one actually dropped to one knee, with his head down and his brow resting on his fist. “I am Tian Jaffords, son of Luke. This lady is my wife, Zalia.”

“Hile,” Roland said. “Let me be Roland to you, if it suits. May your days be long upon the earth, sai Jaffords.”

“Tian. Please. And may you and your friends have twice the—”

“I’m Overholser,” the man in the white Stetson broke in brusquely. “We’ve come to meet you—you and your friends—at the request of Callahan and young Jaffords. I’d pass the formalities and get down to business as soon as possible, do ya take no offense, I beg.”

“Ask pardon but that’s not quite how it is,” Jaffords said. “There was a meeting, and the men of the Calla voted—”

Overholser broke in again. He was, Susannah thought, just that kind of man. She doubted he was even aware he was doing it. “The town, yes. The Calla. I’ve come along with every wish to do right by my town and my neighbors, but this is a busy time for me, none busier—”

“Charyou tree,” Roland said mildly, and although Susannah knew a deeper meaning for this phrase, one that made her back prickle, Overholser’s eyes lit up. She had her first inkling then of how this day was going to go.

“Come reap, yessir, say thankee.” Off to one side, Callahan was gazing into the woods with a kind of studied patience. Behind Overholser, Tian Jaffords and his wife exchanged an embarrassed glance. The Slightmans only waited and watched. “You understand that much, anyway.”

“In Gilead we were surrounded by farms and freeholds,” Roland said. “I got my share of hay and corn in barn. Aye, and sharproot, too.”

Overholser was giving Roland a grin that Susannah found fairly offensive. It said, We know better than that, don’t we, sai? We’re both men of the world, after all . “Where are you from really, sai Roland?”

“My friend, you need to see an audiologist,” Eddie said.

Overholser looked at him, puzzled. “Beg-my-ear?”

Eddie made a there, you see? gesture and nodded. “Exactly what I mean.”

“Be still, Eddie,” Roland said. Still as mild as milk. “Sai Overholser, we may take a moment to exchange names and speak a good wish or two, surely. For that is how civilized, kindly folk behave, is it not?” Roland paused—a brief, underlining pause—and then said, “With harriers it may be different, but there are no harriers here.”

Overholser’s lips pressed together and he looked hard at Roland, ready to take offense. He saw nothing in the gunslinger’s face that offered it, and relaxed again. “Thankee,” he said. “Tian and Zalia Jaffords, as told—”

Zalia curtsied, spreading invisible skirts to either side of her battered corduroy pants.