Wolves of the Calla - Stephen King [95]
The boy. The gunslinger realized how much he wanted to be able to go on calling Jake that, and how short the time to do so was apt to be. He had a bad feeling about Calla Bryn Sturgis.
“Go with them after they dine us in the Pavilion tonight,” Roland said. “Go and do ya fine, as they say here.”
“Are you sure? Because if you think you might need me—”
“Your father’s saying is a good one. My old teacher—”
“Cort or Vannay?”
“Cort. He used to tell us that a one-eyed man sees flat. It takes two eyes, set a little apart from each other, to see things as they really are. So aye. Go with them. Make the boy your friend, if that seems natural. He seems likely enough.”
“Yeah,” Jake said briefly. But the color was going down in his cheeks again. Roland was pleased to see this.
“Spend tomorrow with him. And his friends, if he has a gang he goes about with.”
Jake shook his head. “It’s far out in the country. Ben says that Eisenhart’s got plenty of help around the place, and there are some kids his age, but he’s not allowed to play with them. Because he’s the foreman’s son, I guess.”
Roland nodded. This did not surprise him. “You’ll be offered graf tonight in the Pavilion. Do you need me to tell you it’s iced tea once we’re past the first toast?”
Jake shook his head.
Roland touched his temple, his lips, the corner of one eye, his lips again. “Head clear. Mouth shut. See much. Say little.”
Jake grinned briefly and gave him a thumbs-up. “What about you?”
“The three of us will stay with the priest tonight. I’m in hopes that tomorrow we may hear his tale.”
“And see…” They had fallen a bit behind the others, but Jake still lowered his voice. “See what he told us about?”
“That I don’t know,” Roland said. “The day after tomorrow, we three will ride out to the Rocking B. Perhaps noon with sai Eisenhart and have a bit of palaver. Then, over the next few days, the four of us will have a look at this town, both the inner and the outer. If things go well for you at the ranch, Jake, I’d have you stay there as long as you like and as much as they’ll have you.”
“Really?” Although he kept his face well (as the saying went), the gunslinger thought Jake was very pleased by this.
“Aye. From what I make out—what I ken—there’s three big bugs in Calla Bryn Sturgis. Overholser’s one. Took, the storekeeper, is another. The third one’s Eisenhart. I’d hear what you make of him with great interest.”
“You’ll hear,” Jake said. “And thankee-sai.” He tapped his throat three times. Then his seriousness broke into a broad grin. A boy’s grin. He urged his horse into a trot, moving up to tell his new friend that yes, he might stay the night, yes, he could come and play.
Four
“Holy wow,” Eddie said. The words came out low and slow, almost the exclamation of an awestruck cartoon character. But after nearly two months in the woods, the view warranted an exclamation. And there was the element of surprise. At one moment they’d just been clopping along the forest trail, mostly by twos (Overholser rode alone at the head of the group, Roland alone at its tail). At the next the trees were gone and the land itself fell away to the north, south, and east. They were thus presented with a sudden, breathtaking, stomach-dropping view of the town whose children they were supposed to save.
Yet at first, Eddie had no eyes at all for what was spread out directly below him, and when he glanced at Susannah and Jake, he saw they were also looking beyond the Calla. Eddie didn’t have to look around