Chapter 18

The next two hours was a monotonous journey. There was nothing but the straight dirt road between an endless expanse of forest, almost jungle in places. Once they made a stop to give Sergeant a chance to stretch his legs and do what dogs do. John suggested they use the opportunity to take their own break. He sent Samantha into the brush with Sergeant while he stood watch at the road. She did the same for him.

Once on their way again, the monotony continued another hour before they reached the first signs that humans actually inhabited the Outland. It was a small hamlet of about eight or nine buildings along the road. One was a small Inn.

John told her to pull up in the yard. “I think we should get something hot to eat. We still have a couple of hours ride. And I want to see where we can drop off our passenger.”

She looked into the wagon bed. Their passenger was still unconscious. He’d not moved at all. “Is he still alive?”

“Oh yes.” He jumped to the ground and added, “Sergeant, guard. I’ll be back in a minute, Sam.” He went into the Inn, leaving her to study the surroundings.

Up the street she saw that there were several people in front of some of the buildings, watching her. She waved and smiled and they immediately looked away. They began to move off one by one, glancing back at her as they went.

“Samantha, I have to go up the street and fetch their Constable.”

“They have one?” She was shocked. This was the Outland, where everyone was purported to be criminals. Why would they have a Constable?

He gave her a big brother look of “don’t you know anything” and walked off. She watched as he went to a building about mid-way through the village and knocked. After several minutes someone came to the door and he spoke with them, pointing back to the wagon. Then, the door shut and he waited. After several more minutes, a man came out carrying a cane of some kind and putting on a hat. They both started back to where Sam waited. People had again congregated in bunches along the street and a few had exited the Inn and were watching.

When they reached the wagon, John waved his hand at her and said, “This is my sister, Samantha. Sam, this is Constable Smoot.”

The Constable tipped his hat and nodded. “Afternoon, Miss.”

John snapped his fingers and pointed to the wagon seat, “Release.” The dog jumped up and sat next to Samantha.

Constable Smoot’s lips formed a silent whistle and he gave John an admiring look. “Well, you’ll be one of Channing’s boys, won’t you?”

Samantha and John looked at him in surprise.

“Oh, we’re all acquainted with your Dad. He visited the area at least twice a year. A few of us own dogs trained by himself. Great animals they are, too. My brother has one looks a lot like that ‘un.” He pointed to Sergeant. “Your dad named him Colonel.”

Brother and sister exchanged silent looks. He was talking about Sergeant’s older sibling. John said, “Yes, my father was the best. If I knew half of what he knew, I’d still not be half as good.”

Constable Smoot shook his head and said, “Nah, I don’t believe that. I’ve heard tell of you, John Channing. Your dogs are sought after all over the Island.” He moved closer and looked into the wagon, “Now, what are you bringing me that needs a Channing guard dog?”

“We aren’t sure. He tried to attack us along the road. The wagon tipped over and he was thrown out. Has a broken arm and hasn’t stirred since we put him there. He probably should see a doctor.”

The Constable studied the unconscious man for several minutes and then he took his cane and poked the prone man. “I’m thinking he’s playing possum with you. He’s wide awake.”

Samantha said, “I don’t think. . .”

The cane moved and poked the broken arm slightly. The man who had been unconscious let out a scream and sat up, clutching his arm tightly to him. “Are ya crazy, man! Me arm’s broke!” He shoved the cane away and scowled at the Constable.

Sergeant jumped from the seat, into the wagon bed directly in front of the man and put his snarling face inches from him. The man went very still and whimpered.

“Call him off. I ain’t done nothing. Call him off.”

No one said a word for several seconds and then Samantha snapped her fingers and said, “Heel, boy.”

John leaned against the wagon and grinned.

The Constable grinned back and nodded to the man in the wagon, poking at him again with the stick. “I know him and his ilk. He runs with the volunteers but he is of those who have their own agenda. He hijacks wagons and carriages that pass through area and steal their belonging and cargo. It’s why a lot of traffic is done by water these days. Virtually no shipments come through on wagons anymore except things going to someone local. So basically, he’s stealing from his own. And we have no place to banish such vermin.”

“What’s your name, rogue?” The Constable prodded him in the leg with the cane.

“You can go into the mist. I’m telling you nothing. You got no cause to hold me.”

“I have an official complaint and you in a wagon of folks you tried to rob. They could have left you side the road. They could have allowed this animal to rip out your sorry throat. Instead, they brought you in for medical care.”

He scowled and looked away. “I’ll not say a word. You can’t hold me.”

By now, dozens of people had gathered, the Constable giving them courage to see what was happening. Samantha suspected not much happened in this little burg and this event would be told dozens of times in a dozen ways. She notice that the man’s comments were generating some unrest. Several people were muttering and pointing.

From somewhere at the back of the crowd someone said, “You better hope he does hold you, Coren Yancy. I know where you live and your kind cost my family a shipment of seed for planting.” A mutter of agreement rippled across the group, effectively hiding the speaker and letting Coren Yancy know he was in this alone in a town that was not happy with him.

“See, now, I thought we’d figure it out.” The Constable’s voice became light and playful but his look was far from playful. “Yancy, are you? Well, Yancy boy, I believe you run with the Green Men volunteers. Your Commander know what you’re up to today?”

Mr. Yancy was getting decidedly uncomfortable. He looked around the crowd, his eyes wide and white. “I’ll be going off to your lock up, Constable. If you’ll open this wagon gate, I’ll go quietly.”

“I’ll bet you will,” Constable Smoot laughed.

He dropped the wagon tailgate and held out a hand. Yancy ignored the hand, turned and dropped to the ground. He groaned at the jarring of his arm and swayed on his feet but stayed upright. The Constable followed behind him, tossing over his shoulder to John, “I’d appreciate it if you could tarry a bit and fill out a report on the incident.”

“We’ll be waiting in the Inn. My sister and I need a meal before we move on.”

He touched the brim of his hat with his stick and marched his swaying prisoner off. John helped Samantha down from her seat and Sergeant followed. The crowd began to thin but one man stayed behind. He approached John and held his hand out.

“I’m Nate Ridgeway, inn keeper in these parts. You folks have a meal on the house waiting.”

John shook his hand but waved off his offer. “No, that isn’t necessary. We can pay.”
Nate held up his hand and replied, “Won’t hear of it. You probably saved several of us a lot of money over the next several months. Those scoundrels steal anything they can get their hands on. The volunteers are supposed to help with the problem but as you can see, some of their own men are responsible.”

John and Samantha followed Nate Ridgeway into the dimly lit, low-ceilinged room. One end of the room was dominated by a large wall mirror and a long dark bar. A dozen tables with chairs were scattered throughout the room. Half dozen customers were seated around one table and they turned to at the interruption.

“Bess!” Nate yelled toward a doorway in the back wall. “Fix a couple of plates of stew. Got two on the house.” He waved to a table, “You folks have a seat.”
“Thank you,” John said and held Samantha’s chair and seated her, then joined her at the table.

“Boys,” Nate called to the other table, “welcome John and Samantha Channing. They just caught Coren Yancy red-handed.”

Six shocked voices called out, “NO! You never!”

An old man waved at them, “Nate, when they pass through again, put their meal on my tab. That scoundrel stole my new plow. My name is Perry, by the way, and I’m in your debt.”

The inn keeper looked at John, “See, I told you. That’s an expensive item for folks here. Prices for such things are higher because of the risk. We have to pay in advance for shipments and then if they are stolen, it is our loss.”

“But that doesn’t seem right,” Sam said.

“Put yourself in their place, missy,” the old man answered. “If they ship things in for purchase, it may not reach here and so they are out money and the item. Not to mention there have been times when the drivers have been killed or injured. Make no mistake it cost dearly to get shipments through to the Outland folks.”

“You have a constable. Can’t they do something?”

A laugh went round the table of men. The man seated next to Perry replied, “The constable is a good man but you’re talking about dozens of thieves, some working in gangs. They’re well organized because they’ve been doing it for a long time. And once captured, there is no place to send them. They get a month in lock up with free meals.”

Perry added, “We all came here for one of two reason, either we had family who were considered criminals or we were considered criminals. But there are some who are worse that we. Where do we send those who are the worst of the worst?”

Samantha shook her head. Their stew arrived and they turned their attention to that.

Between bites John asked, “What are these green men the Constable mentioned. We saw them back there but they didn’t bother us, just watched us for a bit.”

The Outland has no formal police force. They originally formed to give some kind of protection from harassment by the thugs. They are successful but they can’t be everywhere. And some of their own members are corrupt, as you saw today.

“We have village constables but their main concern is the village. Things that happen on the roads should be the concern of the Council but this is Outland and they have no real concern about our safety. Their philosophy is that we committed crimes and as such, we aren’t entitled to any greater protection.”

“But it isn’t just Outlanders being robbed and attacked!” Sam was becoming more and more irate at the situation. “Nor is it just criminals. It’s anyone who passes from province to province.”

One of the men nodded at her, “True and that is why most travel is now by boat. Every province has a port. You can sail around the Island to any province you wish and never pass through the Outland at all unless you choose. More and more, people are not choosing.”

Samantha thought of all the families in these forested areas and how frightening it must be to know you were cut off from civilization with no hope of help. She looked at John but he was eating and she couldn’t read his face.

“What about your Council representative?” she asked.

The room went silent and everyone in the room looked at her.

John put his spoon down. He said very softly, “Sam, there is no Council representative for the Outland.”

She stared at him and realized this was something she must have known but never thought about. The Outland was nowhere. It was a wasteland used to contain those not fit for civilized company. The Council of Nine was not called that simply because there were nine representatives. It was called the Council of Nine because it only represented nine provinces. The Outland existed outside the Provinces. The people that lived there were non-existent.

Nate stepped into the void and announced there was drinks on the house. Conversation turned to fishing and hunting and the need for good guard dogs. The moment passed but Samantha couldn’t shake a heavy feeling of disappointment. Disappointment in what, she wasn’t ready to examine yet.