“Even a cloudy day has the backing of the sun.” B. E. S.

It was a fine clear morning as Besh descended the stairs into the lobby of Hotel Regal. It was a busy hotel with exceptionally kind staff. The King’s personal seal got them a suite of rooms on the top floor, and they were made to feel special. Besh could not remember a more comfortable bed than the one he woke in on that fine morning. Raul waved from a seating alcove across the room. Besh joined them with a satisfied sigh.

Raul said happily, “Man, I’m loving me some continental breakfast.” He reclined on his couch and rubbed a distended belly.

Sitting in an upright padded chair of vintage stripe, and in a mood much improved from the previous day, Beasley smiled around an active toothpick and asked, “Can I pick ‘em, or what?”

Besh chose to sit in the chair beside Sam. As he set his backpack by his feet, he looked up at Sam with a smile. Sam was washed and combed with no trace of savagery from the day before. He wore a new shirt and trousers with his old boots shined for the new day. A pleased and easy expression rested on Sam’s scarred and chiseled face. He was busy rolling up his shirt sleeves.

Without looking up, he asked Besh, “Well, did you speak to the King?”

“Yes, I did,” replied Besh. “His estimation of your value to this endeavor has shot to the top and wrung the bell.”

“What did he think about the Badgers,” Sam asked, looking up?

“He agrees with you that it is not chance,” said Besh. “His top military leaders have received intelligence on increased activity in several key areas. He is mobilizing troops for scaled-up attacks.”

Beasley asked, “Did he say anything about me?”

With an easy smile, Besh fibbed, “The King said to hold onto his secretary. He wants him back in one piece.” He watched the concern in Beasley’s face wash away in surprised appreciation.

Raul sat up and commented, “Must be nice to work for the King, I mean, to be that close to royalty. Does he call you, like, hey secretary, get over here?” He was feeling mischievous. “Or, Beasley! That pencil better be sharp.”

Beasley’s expression displayed his distaste for levity at his expense. “No,” he said. “Actually, he says, Crispin, I need you.”

Raul sat back and said, “Crispin, huh? All the Captain calls me is hey you.”

“And that’s because I feel sorry for you,” Said Sam with a straight face.

“Well,” said Besh, “I think Crispin should be in charge of transportation. An Air Skid would be a handy conveyance to the docks. Then, after a pleasant ferry ride, we’ll be off to . . ?” He left the sentence hanging and awaited an answer.

“The Holder Equestrian Center,” Beasley quickly replied in his official voice. “It is the first ranch beyond the ferry terminal.” He rose to his feet and said as he walked away, “I’ll have the Concierge call a coach.”

The docks were a large mall of services that included a modest ferry. The sign above the open door read, ‘Gull Crossing Service.’ Beneath the large white lettering with black trim, a line of smaller black print read, ‘a smooth ride.‘

Besh, Sam, and Raul waited as Beasley used the King’s seal to negotiate their transportation with a pretty brunette at the service counter. She walked away from the counter and returned leading a burly older man with pronounced eyebrows. He came puffing on a carved Meerschaum pipe with a long stem. He listened, nodded, puffed, and left the girl to finalize the transaction. Returning the seal to Besh, Beasley handed each of them a small numbered ticket and took them to a waiting room.

It was still early when their ferry reached the other side. The dock mall on Abney Island was similar to the one in Port Arthur. Their transit was complete in little over two hours, with short stops in Rimspool, Ley, and Misst on Alford Island. The course had taken them on a leisurely track around the northern peninsula of Alford. The morning was bright and the sky was filled with wheeling seagulls. The craft, while large enough to handle a dozen land vehicles, was all but empty. An elderly couple boarded in Rimspool and got off in Ley where the craft turned south.

Sam stretched out on several seats and napped while Raul and Beasley explored the ferry and took in the sights. The snow-capped Rim Mountain Range dominated the last leg of their journey to Misst. From there, it was a straight shot across to Abney and the coastal mountains that stood to either side of the docks. Besh took the time to consider the Badger attacks. It was as if they were meant to disrupt the quest. On the one hand, they ran interference to keep them from finding the Prince. On the other hand, a member of the party was the target. What Besh could not figure was just how they tracked them.

“I hate seagulls,” Beasley complained as Raul laughed.

Beasley had purchased sturdier clothing and boots in Port Arthur, keeping only his belt with the ornately carved bone buckle. He bought a small backpack and filled it with supplies. People walked around them on the open dock, trying not to stare. Besh stood patiently and watched with mild amusement as Raul doubled over and giggled hysterically. Sam walked ahead, preferring not to be associated with the scene. Beasley wiped frantically at a large white spot on his new shirt. The rigors of life beyond the palace were a thorn in the young man’s side and Besh felt for him. Then again, he thought, with a smirk for himself, nothing builds character like a steaming wad of gull droppings.

Beasley chose an Air Skid from the Last Chance Tech Service who made the claim that skid services did not run out in the ranchlands. The King’s seal got them an executive coach with facing seats and open-air capability. Sam drew back the canopy top while the driver, encased in his bubble, whisked them toward the ranchlands. Besh observed his crew. Sam had a rock-solid calm while Raul seemed to be the excited child with a shiny big coin. Beasley fussed, ill at ease with the brisk wind that mussed his hair.

The scenery flew by. The city of South Breed was to their left. To their right was sagebrush and cactus dotting painted ravines and gullies. Far to the south was a barren desert ringed on its southern extremity by jagged gray escarpments. Besh watched the countryside roll by. Sam sat with closed eyes as if meditating. The younger men engaged in youthful conversation while Besh withdrew into his thoughts.

“We can still get the Archive even in the middle of nowhere,” Raul said to Beasley. He adjusted Beasley’s Sound Ticks and handed them back.

Beasley placed them in his ears and listened. The young men’s heads bobbed in unison. He turned to the other with large eyes and asked, “Is this . . ?”

Raul nodded and smiled excitedly. “Donna Dash,” he replied.

Beasley enthused, “I love this song.”

And so it went. It was toward noon when the driver pulled into the sprawling equestrian complex. The men disembarked and the skid raced away. Before them were offices, houses, and milling employees. All around them were broad fields of grass and rolling low hills with grazing horses. Besh asked at the main office and was directed to a large yellow house with an open porch. He knocked.

A middle-aged woman answered through the open screen door. “I’m Lilly Holder,” she announced with a pleasant smile. “How may I help you?”

“Oh, hi,” said Besh returning the smile. “My name is Besh. This is Captain Barker, his crewman, Raul, and Beasley, the King’s secretary. We are here on the King’s business. May we have a moment of your time?”

Lilly focused on the Captain with a twinkle in her eye. “My, what a crew,” she said, unlatching the screen door and pushing it open. “Come on in.” 

Seated in a brightly lit living room, Besh described his mission to Lilly while Sam stood by an open window looking out. Lilly sat in an upholstered straight chair by an inactive fireplace. Besh, Beasley, and Raul sat together on a small matching sofa. Lilly took it all in with a quiet nod.

“I see,” said she. Turning to Sam, she asked, “What is your part in this, Captain?”

Startled, Sam turned and nodded politely. “Sam, please,” he said. “My part? I guess you could call me security.”

Lilly sat forward in her chair, exposing cleavage in her taut lumber-jack-red plaid shirt. She tossed her loose-hanging brown hair away from her eyes and said with a self-indulged laugh, “Well, you certainly seem well-armed, if you’ll pardon the pun.”

Raul looked wide-eyed between the Captain and the attractive older woman. He got the pun, the Captain did not. Lilly pressed on.

“Do you ride, Captain?” She stood and faced the Captain, ignoring the three on the couch.

“I have,” he answered, “back in the day.”

“You look just like a cowboy,” she said. She walked to the Captain and smiled up into his face. “Do you like saddles,” she asked? “I have a collection of antique saddles I’d love to show you.” She took Sam by one arm and turned.

Besh stood as she led an embarrassed Captain toward the den. Lilly said in passing, “You three go into the kitchen and make yourselves a sandwich. Go on, now, and help yourselves. I’ll show Sam my collection and be right back to help.”

Besh, Beasley, and Raul sat on the front step finishing their sandwiches. Besh took his paper towel, folded it, and put it in his backpack. Beasley was listening to music through a single Sound Tick. Raul finished a small bottled beverage, tapping the bottom to get the last drop. He held it up into the sunlight and peered within, closing the unused eye. Beasley turned his communicator off and secured the Tick in its case.

“They sure are taking their time,” noted Beasley impatiently.

Raul snorted. Besh admitted to himself that he, also, was impatient, but he could easily guess why the nickel tour so occupied the Captain. Just then, the screen door opened behind them. They stood and turned. Lilly emerged buoyantly and rakishly tossed her hair. 

As Sam pushed past his comrades to take a deep breath in the afternoon sun, Lilly said to him, “You let me know. I could use a hand like yours on the spread.”

“I will give it serious consideration,” said Sam turning with a smile for Lilly but avoiding the glances of his friends.

“Now,” said Lilly, walking off the porch and turning to face Besh, “Prince Albert was here. He came by yesterday and purchased fifty head of my best horses. He drove them north to Dead Tree, looking to ferry them over to Morgana. I imagine by now, he’s halfway there.”

“Thank you, Lilly,” said Besh reaching to shake her hand. “That is wonderful news.”

“Don’t thank me just yet,” said Lilly. “You’ll have to ride hard to catch him.”

Incredulously, Beasley queried, “Ride? Horses?”

“Yes, dear,” Lilly replied with an amused smirk. “You’ll not be getting a skid out here. I’ve no machinery but workcats and forklifts, but I can lend you horses.”

Four men trotted north on that late afternoon. Their quarter horses, lithe and muscular, propelled them toward their goal, as the picturesque plains lay open before them. Curious mares crowded wooden fencing as they passed by following a well-worn earthen trail. The warmth of the afternoon sun turned a quest for the Prince into a search for trees and shade.

Besh shifted uncomfortably in his saddle. “Now, you see, this is why I don’t ride,” he said.

Sam, who had been riding quietly beside him, asked, “Problems, my friend?”

Besh responded, “Saddles should have more padding. Of course, that’s just my opinion.”

Beasley called from behind them, “You three got it easy. She gave me the one that bites.” He eyed the tear in the sleeve of his new shirt.

Raul said playfully, “The Captain knows how to ride a padded saddle.”

Sam called back, “A real man knows his fillies. That’s something you virgins can’t touch.”

“I ain’t no virgin,” Raul shot back. “I got a girlfriend. Crispin’s the virgin.”

Beasley snorted, “I’m saving myself for wedlock.”

“What about you, sir,” Raul asked Besh? “You married?”

Besh answered, “No, but I came close once.”

“You got a girl,” Raul pressed?

“Actually,” Besh replied, “I met a very nice woman at the palace. Hazel was her name.”

“No. Don’t say it.” Raul seemed astounded. “Not Hazel.”

“What’s wrong with Hazel,” asked Besh, turning in his saddle?

“She’s like glue on every man she sees.” Raul shook his head. “Got tio in the doghouse with tia. Vieja. Gorda. A real gold digger.”

“Show some respect,” said Sam.

Besh faced forward and responded. “Well, I thought she was amply endowed.”

Raul lowered his face, pressed his eyes closed, and shook his head emphatically. Sam kicked his horse into a faster gate. The others caught up. The Captain wiped sweat from his brow and smeared it on a pant leg. He sat straight in the afternoon sun. Besh moved his quarter horse in close.

He asked, “Lilly said there was a small lodge ahead. Right?”

“Yeah, but we won’t reach it today,” was his stolid response. “She said we’d cross a stream first. We’ll camp there.”

The stream was small, meandering down from a low hill, and making a slight gurgling noise. Sam handed the reins of his horse to Raul and went to inspect his surroundings. Two tall wooden stakes had been driven into the ground and a rope had been tied between them. They found the used campsite among the trees in a clearing. Beasley fell awkwardly as he dismounted. As if amused, his horse stared back at him. Raul tied off the horses, and Besh walked to the stream massaging his left hip.

Eyeing a pile of firewood someone had left beside the cold ashes, Beasley commented, “Well, it was awfully nice of whoever to leave us some wood.”

Sam called from the trees, “You two are still going to gather firewood.”

“Damn,” said Raul, clicking his fingers in a resigned manner.

It was late when they settled in. A pleasing fire crackled between them. An evening zephyr toyed with the flame sending small sparks above their heads. Because of the warm night ahead, Sam decided to dispense with setting the tent. Bedrolls would suffice. The sun was low, and the noise of chirruping insects filled the camp. With meals past, and ablutions taken care of, Sam instructed the younger members in removing the saddles and caring for the horses. Besh returned from the stream.

Sam returned to the fire to find Besh pulling on his shirt. He sat on a solitary rock someone had rolled up for a seat. Personal effects were scattered in the dirt before him, including the new wrist communicator. Sam sat in the dirt beside Besh and tossed sticks into the fire as Raul and Beasley returned from chores. Besh acknowledged their returns with congenial smiles.

Sam said to Besh, “I’m looking forward to finding this Prince of yours. The sooner we haul his ass back to the King, the sooner I can get my girl back.”

Beasley added, “My private room calls to me.”

Raul looked across at Beasley, as if looking over the upper rim of glasses and said, “Must be nice.”

Besh, having adjusted his shirt-sleeves above his wrists, reached down for his communicator. Sam spotted a small tattoo on his left wrist and sat up straight in alarm. The two small capital ‘M’s over a nine-digit serial number meant only one thing.