Chapter 39: If You Won't I'll Find Someone Who Will Part 2

The Next Day

I led the marksmanship training of the new guards for the first part of the day. They were all doing fine with the pistols and I was told we'd have to put off the submachine gun training for another day when the Constable told us to rotate to entry duty. It wasn't more than a little after lunch when the Constable himself told me more about what he suggested after his punishment of Duncan. He told me that he would indeed need me to be there for the meeting, but told me to stand by for a while before departing again.

The new men took turns between operating the gate control panel and acting as part of the inspection crew for those seeking to enter our home. There weren't many trade groups seeking entry that day, but there were some reputable merchants, couriers, and friends we've had running odd jobs for our community that came to the gates seeking entry. The time went by slowly, and my men certainly spent a good chunk of that time telling rumors about what they heard happened with Duncan. If the men weren't spending the idle time looking out over the crowds or chatting lowly, they were looking for either Duncan or the merchant Levi who started yesterday's ordeal. There'd been no sign of Levi, but I did see Duncan exit New Canaan and enter the market crowds a few times since taking over the entry duty. The murmurs of my men seemed to say how much they wanted to tease him about being the Constable's personal errand boy but deciding not to. After hearing my simple account of what happened, they decided they'd at least wait till the end of the shift before pestering him about it back at the barracks.

It was perhaps three hours after taking over the primary entry station when the Constable approached me again and told me to link up with Duncan over by the little storage shack we had by the well across from the Trinity Inn. There was no way to see Duncan from the primary gate station past the many trade stalls, crowds, rentable shacks, and tents on that side of the market, so I gave the Constable a nod, ready to follow him when I saw he was already heading back in town again. The Constable was clearly still embarrassed by how he treated Duncan in front of his granddaughter yesterday, so he'd been somewhat distant with me alone the whole day. I paid it no mind, knowing he'd be back to his cheery self in another day or two, and departed my men's company, ignoring their requests to tell Duncan "X sarcastic thing."

Heading down the main road a short distance, a group of tribal merchants passed by when I saw Duncan no more than 50 yards away and leaning on the side of the shack near the well. My heart skipped a beat when I saw none other than the merchant named "Levi" speaking to the young man. Upon seeing this, I immediately placed a hand on the grip of my pistol and picked up my speed when the trader was already walking away from the young man.

Passing the well and stepping up to the young man, he looked to me, and gave a second-long grin before his face returned to his rather demure one we'd noticed throughout the day;

"Hey, Lieutenant Paul… How's your day been?"

I grabbed his arm and looked over the wound from yesterday, then briefly checked his face before scanning the crowd looking for either Levi or his goons with the plasma guns. Still with a hand on my weapon, I asked him,

"What was that about? Was Levi harassing you? What are you doing at the scene of the crime?"

He freed himself from my grip, my eyes ended their search over the crowds and returned to him as he said in confusion, "I'm fine, Paul. Quit your worrying. I was just told to deliver something to Pastor Rudee at the church. Constable asked me to wait for you here after I was done. What's gotten into you?"

I focused back on the young man again, asking sternly, "What about Levi? What did he want?"

My eyes went to scan for anyone who may be looking to jump the kid for what he did yesterday, but they remained on him as he added nonchalantly, "No idea… gave me this card though…"

I just then realized that Duncan had a small card in his left hand. He was showing it up at me, but as soon as my eyes landed on it, Duncan was already ripping it up and tossing the bits into the dirt, "… told him I wasn't interested… Think it was about hiring me for his crew. Think he also mentioned something about debt collecting… all I really heard was him saying I'd make triple what Constable's paying me…"

Glancing at the bits of paper in the sand, I leaned myself against the wall beside him and asked with a grin I couldn't help, "Why didn't you take it?"

He gave a smirk as well, "What good have I got for triple my current pay?... I got food, shelter, plenty of excitement, and plenty of bullets right now."

Feeling myself ease back down and my worries subside, I glanced at the kid seeing him still smirking when I told him, "That, we can offer… but you let us know if that guy gives you any more trouble. Some of the boys been itching to tear a guy like him and his goons apart. Er, I'm sorry, teach them a lesson in manners…" Seeing his smirk grow and seeing him nod as he continued scanning the crowds, I added, "… It's pretty selfish to take on stuff like that by yourself. Sorta rude to leave your brothers of the guard out of the action, if you ask anyone in the barracks…"

The young man continued to nod and his smirk grew a little more. We then watched the surroundings silently for a few seconds before the boredom of waiting was already getting to me and I asked the kid;

"So what's the Constable been having you do as his shadow? The boys and I saw you come out to the market a few times."

The kid spat in the dirt, glanced in the direction of the gate, possibly just checking if the Constable was coming up, "Mostly just running his messages. He's keeping me away from the Temple Sect mostly since I'm still 'in confinement', but sounds like that's going to change since it seems like Elder Larsdale calmed down about the ordeal as well…"

"So that's it?" I asked, not really that surprised that the punishment was rather lackluster, especially after seeing how guilty the Constable himself had been this day.

"Pretty much," said the kid before adding, "Seems Constable is just behind on some messages and grocery runs…" he made a quick glance around. The nearest people were a loud crowd gathered around the well several feet distant from us. He still said lowly but plainly, "… just finished dropping off some groceries for Josh on my last run."

"Grocery run for Josh," I thought. His mention of the burned man was the first time I really found myself thinking about the Burned Man since I returned from the expedition to rescue the Sevieris. Doyle and I had been sent to help the engineers with the Jericho signal tower and then check up on those caches as a detour while Graham, Pryor, Camden, and the rest of our guys finished the escort.

It was then that I found my eyes going towards that brush covered little cliff far off the market road towards the west of town. The only other time in the past few days back when my eyes went over there was when I was chatting with that "creepy guy" with the red eyes, duster, and breathing mask… I still wasn't sure why thoughts of one man had me thinking of the other, but I asked the young man simply;

"I didn't know Graham was still up there. Has he been outside town since we returned from the rest of the guys returned from the Sevieri job?"

"Think so," said the young man before glancing back at me and adding, "Not that uncommon for him to spend a few days out at his camp before he comes back inside… Why? You worried about something?"

"No." I returned automatically. I didn't intend to answer so fast, but I did find myself wondering why Graham hadn't yet come back into town by now.

It was true that ever since the trip where I killed the raider boy and Graham killed Cade, Graham was only in town rather infrequently. It was true that after every trip into the wilderness he joined us on, he usually spent a few days out there before showing up in the barracks plaza during morning muster like anyone else. I sincerely couldn't say for sure why I was so curious about his location this time. Over the past year since that moment I killed the raider kid, and very gradually, it was almost as though the guard had joined the rest of New Canaan in occasionally hearing the name "Graham" and thinking, "Oh? He's still with us? I hadn't seen him around lately."

Some days he'd join my men in the towers, some days we'd see him walking the streets of town, helping one of the trades within the walls, and always at our side on any expedition into the wastes, like with the Sevieris. I've had to have messages sent to him while he was at his camp, I've even joined him at his camp several times in the past year, and he was still technically part of my own detachment, but it was as if he was lately just an apparition. Wherever he was, he was the talk of the guard and was leading the way on the expeditions, joining in the fights, and was always where the guard needed him… But then he was gone, and memory of him would only occasionally come to one of us. He would disappear from memory when he wasn't in our company, and he was never seen in the company of anyone not New Canaanite.

Although the little black column of smoke from his campfire could very frequently be seen coming up from the bushes on that cliff, he was a simple spirit now that only seemed to appear when we needed him to.

I added for Duncan, "Interesting… I might have to swing by his camp, see how he's doing once we're done with the meeting…" I saw Duncan nod out of the corner of my eye, and then a new thought came to me and I asked him, "… Speaking of which, do you know what this meeting with the NCR trade boss is about?"

Duncan shook his head, still looking out at the traffic coming up the road, "No idea. Figured you'd know better than me… Got no idea why the Constable needs me there. I'd rather punch that NCR guy in the face than chat with him about anything."

"I know of a few piles of sandbags that need filling if you'd rather do that instead," said I. The kid looked at me, seeming to wonder if I was joking. I was, but I didn't let him know that.

The kid scoffed, shook his head, and I added, "That's right. You and me both…"

The moment passed, Duncan and I continued to take in the surroundings. We figured the Constable wouldn't be much longer, but even when we spoke by the gate station, he appeared like he'd been getting pulled in every direction the whole day. My glance landed on the young man's arm again, and studying that face, I found myself thinking of him in the past year. I recalled the things I told my daughter about him, then thought of the situation he got himself into, then about the Constable when the thought occurred to me and I asked him without further consideration;

"How was mission?"

His face glanced toward mine as he slowly grinned again and he gave an amused scoff, "Been wondering when you were going to ask me that. How many days you been back?"

It was something else to make that kid smile, knowing all he's done for us, and how emotionless and rough he still considered himself to be. I'd known Doyle's boys were a lot closer with him, but he was still my son of the guard, and I could tell just by that grin he was trying to subdue that he knew he was that to me. I nudged his arm;

"Tell me about it. I know the Constable was just angry when he said you didn't learn anything out there."

"Nope, he was right," said the kid in a way I couldn't tell was serious or the kind of seriously delivered joke guards were good at,

"Tell me about the Coalmen tribe or I'll have the Constable make you serve as footstool for the trade boss."

He relented, "It was fine, not much to say honestly…" he paused, "… I'm not good at talking about… things… you know that, Lieutenant Paul."

"Still?..." I asked with a smirk, but then saw the face he made as he looked over the passing faces. After a moment, the kid still refused to meet my eyes, but I added after joining his survey, "… You know, I think I need to apologize to you, kid…"

I could feel the kid's eyes drift to me, but now it was my turn to avert his gaze, "… I was teaching Hannah to shoot at the range west of town before I heard about your incident-"

My peripherals caught his head turn, almost as if I was about to reprimand him for the time he took her shooting while I was away, "… I told her I couldn't recommend you as a role model…" I paused, looking for the words as the people passed, "… I'm sorry about that."

After a moment, the kid said without emotion, "That's my bad for taking her in the first place. Also, don't be. You're probably right."

"I'm not though…" he continued to refuse to look at me, and I continued to do likewise, "… You're a good kid. I know you have a certain view of yourself, and although the others in the guard see it too, there's something else we can see… You can tell me about your time on mission whenever you like, or if you like. We're all proud of you…"

The kid lowered his hat towards the ground, spat, and put his hand in his pocket before giving me a quick glance and saying, "Thanks, Paul…"

Knowing that casual "Thanks Paul" and spit on the ground was the most heartfelt expression of gratitude the kid was capable of, and knowing he was internally crying tears of supreme thankfulness for having such caring brothers and fathers of the guard, I told him;

"Don't mention it…" Then, I thought I saw the Constable's head towering over the passing crowds as he approached us from the gate station. I asked the young man,

"You mind taking Hannah shooting again sometime?"

I could feel his eyes come to me again, and could see the look of slight bewilderment on his face as he asked, "You serious? Didn't think you trusted me like that."

"Sure," I said just as plainly. The Constable caught sight of us and drew nearer, "She starts school during the weekdays next week, but her weekends are free. Dani and I got the next couple Saturdays booked with Michelle, Joseph, and the infant… If you don't mind spending part of your Sabbath days keeping Hannah busy that is."

With another spit on the ground as he adjusted in his place against the wall, he caught sight of the Constable as well and said without any hint of any emotion, "Yeah, I'll do it... Provided Constable doesn't have me doing anything pointless."

When the Constable reached the well, I concluded for the young man, "… Good, we'll chat about it a little more later, now come along. Let's just get through this headache with the trade master together."

The kid and I both pushed ourselves off the shack wall and stepped towards the Constable, and the giant man grew a look I can only describe as "forced cheeriness" and gestured with his head for us to come along. We joined the Constable and the three of us stepped onto the main road heading south towards the small collection of fenced in buildings between the market and the refugee village. Passing some of the stalls, I decided to speak first,

"I gotta ask, Constable, what are we meeting with the trade boss about?"

The Constable led us only a couple of steps in front and looked at the collection of merchant guards with plasma guns coming up on the right. He glanced back at Duncan, and I saw Levi with the well-equipped guards as well, all of them appearing to talk very lowly as they eyed the three of us. The Constable ignored my question for the moment, only saying, "Paul, trade spots with Duncan."

I was already doing that, and just as we approached, the attempt to hide Duncan appeared unsuccessful when the chatter of the guards and merchants looked to turn into chuckling. Duncan and I followed a few steps in rear of the Constable, so I don't think he saw it when Mr. Schmitt held up a particular finger towards the merchants and Levi just as we passed. The merchant crew laughed audibly harder, I batted the kid's hand down, and the incoherent chatter and laughter disappeared behind us as we passed the remainder of the stalls and carts at the edge of the market. At last, the Constable answered my question, the way to NCR's trade post now clear aside from the incoming and outgoing traffic;

"Sorry, Paul, you asked about the Trade boss?" I only nodded, he knew this, and went on, "I frankly have no true idea… But if I had to guess, I can assume it's about that missing caravan of his…"

I hopped in, "He's seriously Still pestering us about doing that job for him? He actually tried to get me to do that for him while I was With my kids the day I got back."

The Constable shook his head, "I don't know. All I know is that he asked me to bring my men most familiar with the White Legs, but there's no way on God's green earth that he's taking you or any of my men anywhere… Still, we can at least see what he wants."

I thought for a moment, I didn't consider myself to be the most familiar with the White Legs in any regard. I didn't really think Duncan was either, especially since most of Doyle's scouting jurisdiction in the past year or two had been focused on the southeast and sometimes west.

Thinking aloud, I said, "Think you should have brought Lt. Herbein for this if we're giving over White Leg intel to the guy."

Duncan remained silent and the Constable only said, "Herbein's out right now on a special little assignment, and frankly, I don't really care who I bring to the trade master… No offense, son."

"None taken," said I, seeing Duncan smirk out of the corner of my eye when the Constable went on,

"Duncan here can burn any trash the Trade boss hands my way, and familiar with White Legs or not, you do have experience with them in recent years, and I'd rather have you in there with me than any of the other commanders."

I wordlessly accepted that, and Duncan appeared deep in thought about what kind of trash he might have to burn (or more likely, carry) when we stepped up to the wooden barbed wire fence to the NCR's trade compound.

I sat right beside the Constable before the desk inside the musty little office room of the shack. The window behind the desk had a nice view of the wastes, but I wasn't quite sure how I felt at the time knowing I could see the little column of black smoke where I knew Graham's camp on the far distant hill sat. I still planned to visit with him after this meeting, so I wondered if I should let him know that the NCR trademaster's office has a perfect view of the precise location of his camp… I knew of course that Graham's ability to only be seen by who he let was almost supernatural, and most people scarcely ever went more than 200 yards off the main road. I think most people figured there was nothing that way till you reach the shores of the Great Salt Lake, and although that was true for the most part, I thought it might be time to tell Graham it's time to come back inside. This view seemed to be acting as my sign of that.

Trying instinctively not to pay any attention to the man in the dirty suit circling around the desk in front of the window, my eyes went to the corner of the room when one of the rangers in the brown jumpsuits and near-gold combat armor adjusted the brim of his wide-brimmed hat. Hearing the "Trademaster," "Trade boss," or "Leonard" take a seat, I glanced back to see Duncan standing in the corner behind me seeming to look warily at the rangers in all the corners. Suddenly the calm ambiance of the room was interrupted when Leonard sat back in his chair, and just when he was about to utter the first syllable of this meeting, Constable Hanshaw said on my left,

"We can't help with your little missing caravan problem, Leonard. Let's get that out of the way right here and now. So, was there something else you wanted to chat about, or should we head on out right now?"

The suited man with the grey touched dark brown hair grew a grin across his face and placed his clasped hands on the desk.

"No, no, no, nothing like that. You've made your situation very loud and clear…" Now looking straight at me, he added, "Perhaps you two might have noticed those men in the room opposite my office on the way in?"

The Constable and I looked at each other. We had'nt noticed that. We walked across the main room and came to the office straight ahead. The trade boss saw this in our face and said, still looking at me, "… No matter. I'm glad you brought Lieutenant Young here though…" His grin went a little wider as I wondered what he could have possibly been talking about, "… I told you that if you won't, I'll find someone who will…"

In only a second, my mind recalled who the trade boss was talking to the day after I returned, and saw those red eyes. My mind returned to the present in a flash when the Constable said, "Great! See? I knew you could do it. You take care now," the Constable and I both automatically began to rise from our chairs, but we stopped this instant departure when the Trade boss chuckled, "Oh come on! Don't act like we're not friends here?"

"We're not," said the Constable dryly, still half standing.

The smile on the NCR trade boss's face grew a little more before he said half appealingly, "For a bunch of merciful Christians, you guardsmen types are pretty short with certain people. Please be seated."

The boss gestured towards the chairs, the Constable and I looked at one another, and we both silently agreed to lower ourselves back down into the chairs… at least for another minute as I added what I knew the Constable too was thinking, "We're short because we don't trust you. We don't trust your nation, most of your rangers, and especially not your prospectors-"

The NCR man's face turned from that smile to one of loathing, not at us, but apparently at mention of the last word I said as he interrupted, "-I heard about what some of your men encountered recently, but know that I, like a friend would, had dispatches sent west condemning their conduct with the Sevieris.-"

The Constable stayed silent, but now it was my turn to interrupt the NCR Trademaster, "I was there myself. I saw what they were doing, and hearing you now just has me wondering. I wonder if a strongly worded letter of condemnation would have stopped Hitler, Stalin, Mao, or Xin-"

Leonard shot in, "Don't know those first two, but what do you want me to do? I'm just a trader? Sure I'm an NCR government employee, but if you think those back west give two craps about my opinion on just about anything, I'll ask you both: why do you think they sent me all the way out here?..."

There was a short silence, and the man waited, looking at both of us before adding, "Why do you think they put me out here, over a hundred miles from even the nearest official and pissant ranger scout station?..."

Another silence hovered in the room, even the rangers in the corners appeared to grow frustrated at the reminder of where they were, and where they'd rather be while the rest of the New California nation was almost entirely occupied in the region around old world Las Vegas or this apparent "New Vegas." Constable Hanshaw and I knew the answer to the Trademaster's question, but even knowing that answer did little to help our own prejudices against this man's homeland. At last, he answered;

"… That's right. They put me out here because they're tired of hearing from me. They sent me to do a job that they pray they won't have to really think about for the next dozen years, or at least until we cripple the Legion for good the next time they try crossing the big dam down south… putting it simply; you and I are all each other have this far out in the middle of nowhere. My mother country lets people come out here, and I try to ensure their safety…"

He paused, thought for a second, then began almost as if he had to say what he said next out of a strange sense of duty or loyalty towards his mother country he just finished venting about;

"… also, I think we're in agreement about how what happened to the Sevieris was terrible, but if those prospectors weren't so prevalent out west, how big do you think the 80s could have gotten by now?-"

I was on track to agree with the man and search for common ground on everything he said above before he got to that last part. The Constable then spoke for the both of us;

"That's right, I suppose genocide of peaceful tribes, our allies, Your allies, is actually a good thing if you think about it that way… our mistake."

The Trade Boss sat back in his chair once again and gave a long exhale out his nose as if to say that he too felt he shouldn't have even attempted to justify the actions of NCR-affiliated prospectors in the far west. He then began to look at us again as if he needed to cooperate with us, but also knowing that we did not need to cooperate with him… That was true. The rangers under his charge had been useful on the odd occasion in the past year since the establishment of the post, but we got by long before he or the rangers ever showed up. Still clinging to that faint sense of loyalty to his faraway home, and knowing he was on our turf where our word was law, he began slowly;

"You Christians are really something else. Make no mistake, I dig what you all do out here. I get it. I get the higher power, redemption, we're all sinners, all that. I do…"

The Constable and I glanced at each other, curious where he was going to take this whole thing, and still wondering why we were in this office in the first place, "… But I think you men understand that morality is a lot less black and white than some of those within the walls might realize. Can't we agree that what happened to the Sevieris was horrible and also agree that without my homeland's presence in the far south and west, things would be even worse for both you and me?"

With one more glance at one another, it took no words for the Constable and I to come to the same conclusion. I spoke to the trade boss;

"Just tell us what you want already."

The Constable and I remained staring at the man as the NCR official seemed to take this curt response for what it was. He leaned forward again towards us as he mentally arrived where we were; "Let's just get through this." The man said straight to Constable Hanshaw;

"I want intel… clearly you all are stretched too thin, need to train your new men, etc, etc. Because of that, I'm taking things into my own hands…"

He gestured across the way, past the closed door to the office, and then shuffled some papers out of the way and exposing an old world map of Utah. Pointing to the map and glancing up to make sure we were seeing where he was pointing, the trade boss resumed, "… Riley's caravan disappeared about here on the map probably around two weeks ago if I had to guess… Don't really want to go searching for the schedule right now..." He looked to me, "Past radio check-ins and scouts I sent that way indicated an attack about here, right at the edge of White Leg territory. They didn't even make it to Jude… So, just tell me everything you know about White Legs around the territory on the north and east GSL so we can rid one another of each other's presence. Sound fair?"

"There's not much we can say that you and I haven't already discussed in the past months. What else do you need to hear?" Said the Constable plainly.

Before the Trade Boss could step in, I added, "Unless I'm mistaken, we've been telling you to avoid that stretch around the north since you first arrived. We have a special group that goes up to Jude, but they're very cautious and only take certain routes. They'll never go further west than the settlement as well."

Now the man hopped in, apparently very frustrated now, but it didn't seem like he was frustrated at us per se; "Yes, yes. Perhaps I haven't been clear about what I do for NCR's traders out here, but putting it simply, the traders don't have to listen to me, and they rarely do. Yes, I'm in charge of setting up travel restrictions, setting the danger levels of different routes, and closing off others, but put another way; I'm just the guy who gets shit on by those back west when traders ignore me and get themselves killed… Pardon my language."

It was this remark that made the Constable and I look at one another once again. There was seemingly the vaguest sense of familiarity in the trader's predicament. I found myself thinking of the Elders, and how it was us on the ground, us outside the gates who experienced the world, only to get lectures when our warnings get ignored and we lose people due to Temple Sect optimism. It wasn't the same situation, but we still found it relatable in a way. Still though, the question remained. The Constable asked,

"So again, what do you?-"

And the trade boss asked almost in desperation; "I need a threat assessment. You've been saying it since I got here that White Legs move around a lot, but let's not kid ourselves, they've been clinging to those shores for a long time. I can tell you want to suggest routes around the south, but you and I also know that most of those routes pass through the no-man's of their war with the 80s. Let's both be real and say that there is a serious gap in the danger of the territory on the three other sides of the GSL."

The trader was right in a sense, but I knew he was wrong in another… There was no doubt about how dangerous the White Legs were for any group going north around the GSL, but part of me thought about that south route, and my recent time in it. I saw the group of White Legs storming down from the north just after we survived the prospector ambush. Then I saw the 80s coming up from the south. The image of the two groups clashing over the scraps repeated in my mind, and the Constable was speaking to the trader.

As they spoke, I thought about all the interactions I had with the White Legs in the recent past. I thought of the 80s destroying the White Legs, then getting repelled by us and the Sevieri survivors on that rooftop. I thought of the warriors around that gas station when I took the new guys out on that return from 89 City, and how they too were destroyed in the 80s raid before more White Legs came down from the north. Then I thought about the raid almost a year and a half ago where I lost so many in my detachment and Evan Buller.

I compared that attack where I was shot and where I watched Evan die and all the other times I'd seen the White Legs in the recent past. It was strange to think of how devastating that raid where I started this story was, and then compare it to the rest of the times. The scout where I lost Evan was a complete outlier to all the other times I'd seen the White Legs. Remembering how fast and hard they came down on me and my group, and then watching them get obliterated by the 80s whether it was on the Sevieri scout, or the one that took us to the gas station, I wasn't sure what to think, but I certainly talked about it with the trade master.

The Constable corroborated my story with other reports and stories he heard from men like Herbein and Doyle, and the underlying theme was the same. With the exception of my incident back in September of 2277, we could not deny that the White Legs had been consistently getting defeated across the wilderness.

This seemed like wonderful news, but then we remembered the reason we were here in this office. Reilley's caravan was sacked by White Legs on their trip around the north GSL. With this taken into consideration, I won't go into everything that was said, but the Constable and I had given over everything we had to the trade boss, and concluded our threat assessment: The White Legs, though they are weakened in their ongoing war with the 80s, are still an extreme danger.

And this assessment led to the conclusion Leonard had been inching us toward since before we even showed up in his office;

"… I'm dipping into my reserve funds to take those guns I hired in the other room north. I got an investigator who's going to help figure out what kind of group took out Riley's group. I'm considering this a trial run to see the White Legs true threat. Don't worry, I'm not going to ask that you help retaliate if they get killed, but I AM going to ask that whatever I report next month, you pass it up to the Elders. This is something I seriously suggest you and I begin to take seriously if the worst happens. Hopefully, the group I armed will be able to hold their own and they'll be able to clear a way north, but if they can't I suggest we figure out something to get the White Legs out of the region for good. I'll call in every favor from back home I have left if I have to, but I can only do that if I know I have New Canaan's backing if I absolutely need it…"

After a moment of silence, the Constable and I glanced to one another once more, then rose from our chairs as he said to the man, "Only if you absolutely need it."

The three of us wordlessly extended and shook hands before I gave motion for Duncan to follow us as the rangers in the corners led the way.

On our way out of the office, I glanced into the room the trademaster was talking about and could clearly see inside. Wastelanders in makeshift armor and road jackets sat in chairs along all the walls talking softly with one another or eyeing us. Following the Constable and the rangers towards the door, my attention was turned to a finger tapping my shoulder, I turned around to see Duncan walk right on by, following the Constable out, but the face that stood in front of me was that of a ranger I'd actually spoken with a little bit in the past day or two. It took me a moment to recognize him, the others were exiting the building, and the ranger smiled at me beneath his shades, asking if he could shoot me a quick question. I heard the others leaving behind me, and quickly said;

"Sure?... What is it, ranger?... Townsley? Right?"

He nodded, and my eyes went to the trademaster exiting the office and looking in at the room full of wasteland toughs, and… I'll admit that I didn't even hear what Ranger Townsley asked me because sitting next to the doorframe, just behind the open door, I could see a set of glowing red eyes staring at me from just above a breathing mask that covered his nose and mouth. The trademaster soon stepped into the doorway, blocking my view of the stranger, but those dark dreadlocks and glowing red eyes were imprinted in my mind for a long while after.

My subconscious mind picked up more of what the ranger said than I did, so when my attention went back to Ranger Townsley, I told him simply;

"I apologize, ranger. I need to get going, but swing by the barricade if you can later today or early tomorrow morning. I'd be happy to talk about the book of Jonah with you further. Some of the guys might like to join the topic as well."

The ranger nodded and extended a hand, I shook it, and he said understandingly, "No problem. Sounds like a deal, and thanks anyway, Lieutenant Young."

I stepped out those doors, the vision of that stranger occupying my mind all the while.

Standing by the wood and barbed wire fence surrounding the NCR trade post, I leaned on one of the wooden posts with the Constable and Mr. Schmitt. It didn't take more than a few short moments and a change in scenery for me to get that image of the stranger out of my mind. The Constable resumed what he was saying only moments earlier;

"... I hate to say it, but I think he might be right. Perhaps the White Legs up north aren't nearly as strong as they or we have previously thought."

"Still good at hitting caravans," said Duncan, a statement that all of us nodded to in agreement.

It was a contradiction in a sense. Everywhere we looked, everything I'd seen in the past year and a half, everything the scouts of the guard reported showed the White Legs almost constantly getting destroyed in every engagement they had with enemies like the 80s and Levanoans… But how to explain what happened to Reilly's caravan two weeks ago? How to explain what happened to Evan Buller and my other men?

I could only answer what we had agreed with the trade master about; "Suppose there's nothing to do but wait and see what happens to Leonard's wasteland toughs."

The others nodded, and a moment of silence passed, the sun was a decent bit lower than it was before entering that office. After the short silence, the Constable pushed himself off the post he was leaning on, and shrugged,

"Well, back to it I guess… I best tell the Elders what Leonard plans on doing, and you boys got the end of the shift to finish out."

Duncan and I nodded, I pushed myself forward, and in a brief stretch, I caught glimpse of that barely discernable little column of smoke on that little ridge west of the road. Catching the Constable with my look alone, I gestured with my head towards that ridge and asked the large man;

"Hey Constable, you seen that smoke out the trade boss's window?" He nodded, refusing to look, even though we were fairly alone where we stood. I asked, "Mind if I head over there and have a chat with him? I hadn't seen him since the Sevieri scout, and feel I ought to let him know who has a clear view of his camp."

The Constable made a motion for us to walk and talk, and we did as he said, "Yes that's fine, make it quick though, and make sure you head that way as 'covertly' as possible."

"Of course," said I, and the Constable added slightly more at ease like his normal self, "… Tell him to settle in town for a while, Constable's orders, Ha! I'm sure he'd like to help Carl prepare for the wedding, ha!"

I grinned and saw Duncan do so as well in my peripherals, "Speaking of which, I'm sure Mr. Schmitt here would love to help prepare for that this Saturday."

Seeing Duncan look at me as though I had betrayed him in the worst of ways, he was about to protest, but was cut off by the Constable, "Possibly, but right now, he's going to help the North Fields Super get out some tools for the well they're going to start digging, right Mr. Schmitt?..."

Duncan again appeared about to protest the simple but seemingly pointless job when the Constable added hastily, "… Do it without protest and I won't have you help with the actual digging."

"Yes sir," said the young man when I remembered something from earlier at my mention of "Saturday";

"That reminds me, Constable, are you alright if I have the young man keep Hannah occupied this Saturday? I got a busy day with Dani and Michelle, and Jessica's going to be a bit tied up with wedding prep for Sunday to watch her... Joseph's going to be busy with us before his kids group, so I really need someone to keep an eye on Hannah."

The kid lowered his head slightly, and the Constable asked the young man with a smirk as we passed the outermost traders along the main road to the gate; "Which sounds like a better Saturday, Mr. Schmitt? Helping the bride set out chairs and arranging flower bouquets? Or babysitting Hannah?... And no, digging ditches and burning outhouse pits isn't an option."

A moment of silence passed, the Constable's grin widened, and the young man finally said, "Watching Hannah doesn't sound too bad."

"You surprise me, Mr. Schmitt. Babysitting it is then!"

I glanced at Duncan, gave him a wink, his emotionless face gave me one back, and we joined the crowds as the gate drew nearer.