Pitt walked toward Gallispell with a small whistling. He was four villages away from his homestead. Once he was through here, the path would take him northwest over the next valley, and then he would have to climb up the mountain to his place.

He hoped he didn't run into any more trouble. He had been on the road for a while. He just wanted to settle in his own chair, and look out his window, and see if his sheep were growing big enough to eat.

He would be glad to let other people handle anything that might show up.

He knew his hopes were going to be dashed when he saw a boy with blood on his face, trying to help an older man laying next to the road. He could have walked around them and kept going, but his oath twinged in his mind.

He had freely taken it, and he had to live with it until the day he died.

He stood over the two and looked up and down the road. He knew a small battlefield when he saw it. He may never clerked for Avrii Noll, or Guil the Hunter, but he knew the scene of a struggle after so many years of putting down monsters.

“What happened, boy?,” he asked as he dropped down to look the wounded man over. He saw something that may be a cracked skull, but not any knife wounds.

“We were taking our cows to the market, and these men took them,” said the boy. “I'm Orly Door. This is my da, Ronald.”

“Cracked his head?,” asked Pitt. He hated moving the man, but if he didn't it looked like he might die right there.

“They hit us with sticks,” said Orly. “One of them hit him in the head instead of me.”

“I need to get you both to a cleric,” said Pitt. “I don't think your dad will survive out here, and I don't have any healing skills at all.”

“They took the wagon with the cows,” said Orly. “If they hadn't done that, we could take that.”

“I can carry him into town, but it will be rough on him,” Pitt said. He stood and looked around. “I can make a sled to drag him behind me. Did they leave you any water?”

“No,” said Orly. “They took everything.”

“Stay here and keep watch,” said Pitt. “I will be right back.”

He jogged off into the bushes lining the road. There weren't many trees from what he could see. He had to settle for what he had.

He sliced through a group of bushes with the edge of his hand like it was an extremely sharp axe. He gathered the brush into a pile and took it back to the wounded drovers.

He made a bed out of the limbs he had gathered. He took off his coat and ripped strips out of the bottom until he had a set of ropes. He tied the bed together as quickly as he could.

“Get on, and keep him steady,” said Pitt. He took the rest of the coat and made a harness and rope to drag the sled behind him. He moved Ronald on the brush bed. They both might fall off so he had to be careful.

Orly took his place and held his father's head on his legs.

“Let me know if you start sliding off,” said Pitt. “I'll stop so we can readjust things.”

“I'm ready,” said Orly. He wiped some of the blood from his forehead.

“Then away we go,” said Pitt.

Pitt yanked the contraption after him with an easy movement. The weight of the Doors was nothing to him at this point. He was more concerned the brush would come apart and make things worse for Master Door. A head wound could kill him if he wasn't taken to a temple fast enough.

He saw cow tracks sporadically as he passed softer parts of the trail. It looked like a giant herd. How many were stolen?

Pitt decided he would ask for an explanation. If he wasn't happy with it, there might be some blood shed.

He had been known for a long time as Roland the Cutter. He had not forgotten everything he had done to earn that name.

As many problems he settled with his fists, he doubted he ever would.

He spotted a temple on the side of the road. It wasn't large but it looked like one to Mogen Farn. If it was, a healer would be a minute away. He could leave the Doors with the clerics while he looked around.

He should be able to get compensation for them. He had done similar work when he first started living in the mountains. Sometimes he squared debts instead of breaking legs. It depended on how much he wanted to break the leg.

Sometimes he wanted to do more than break legs and had to hold back.

“Sir,” called Orly. “We're falling apart.”

Pitt slowed to a walk. He looked over his shoulder. Some of the makeshift rope had come apart on the run into town.

“All right, Orly,” said Pitt. He undid the harness so he could put his end of the bed down. “Run and get a cleric. Once we get your father looked after, I can look for your stolen goods.”

Orly carefully put his father's head down and ran to the temple. Pitt stood. He looked down his backtrail. He had covered the distance as fast as a horse if his calculations were right. It was a surprise the brush had held together as well as it did.

The boy returned minutes later with a young man in Farn's gray and symbol. The cleric frowned at the elder Door. He didn't ask any questions as he bent down and applied the healing hand to the stricken father.

“I'm Brother Carrick,” said the cleric. “Orly tells me they were set on by bandits.”

“That's what it looked like to me,” said Pitt. “I would appreciate it if you would look after them until I get back.”

“Certainly,” said Carrick. “I will send one of the brothers to fetch a knight to deal with this.”

“That's fine,” said Pitt. “By the time he gets here, I will have the goods or the money to replace the goods. He can have whatever I leave for him. By the way, do you happen to have any tobacco? I haven't had a smoke in a while and it's making me grumpier than usual.”

Carrick hitched up his tunic and undid a weed bag from his belt. He pulled out a small pipe and let Pitt pick out enough to roll a cigarette. He put the bag back on his belt and let the tunic fall back in place.

“What did your wagon and horses look like, Orly?,” asked Pitt. He snapped his fingers over his cigarette and puffed it to life.

“The wagon was a plain thing with our camping gear in it,” said Orly. “We had brown mules hitched to it. One had a cracked tooth.”

Pitt nodded. How many mules were in town with cracked teeth?

He only needed to find the right one.

He watched as more clerics came up from the temple. One of them had a portable board for carrying people. That was good. The Doors would be looked after while he did his business.

“I'll be back at the end of the day if I find anything,” said Pitt. “It might take me a little longer, things will be straightened out before I am done.”

“And where will you start in case I have send someone to help you?,” asked Carrick. He saw a weaponless tramp. A fighter would at least have a sword.

“I thought I would start at the local cattle market, and broaden out from there,” said Pitt. “I don't know if I'll find the mules, or the cattle, but I will find the bandits.”

“Our cattle will be branded with the runes for Door,” said Orly.

“How many cows did you have?,” asked Pitt.

“I'm not sure,” said Orly. “A few hundred maybe. We were going to sell them to cover our expenses.”

“Let me see what I can do,” said Pitt. He pulled the remains of his cigarette apart and started walking into town.

He decided the best place to start was the market. If he found someone who had bought the cows, he had a chance to find the seller. Then he could ask some questions about the Doors' things and their hauling animals.

He doubted anyone would lie to him once he put his charm on.

He should have asked Orly how big a gang he was looking for.

The actual number wouldn't mean that much, but it would tell him how many he could beat senseless until he had answers to his questions.

His brothers were better at that sort of thing than he was, but he had tracked enough people to know where to start, and how many bones had to be broken until someone gave him a straight answer, or lied convincingly enough that he could quit.

Mostly he dealt with monsters, and you didn't normally have to question them about their bad habits before you did something to them.

He saw more cattle tracks heading in the direction he was going. How many had been stolen by the same gang from people on the way here? He couldn't get everybody's money back.

That didn't mean he couldn't set up a fund with the temple to pay back anybody who could prove they lost their money. Most of them might be dead from the way the Doors had been treated.

Pantalus would frown on him even trying to bring people back from crossing over to their new lives in his realm. The only thing he could do for them was make sure someone paid what was owed.

He reached the vast pens holding the herds of cattle brought in from across the Lowlands. From there they would be sold and herded out of the mountains and down into the plains.

He asked directions for who was in charge with one eye out for the wagon and mules. If he found them, they would be the easiest things to return.

The cattle were probably already sold. The only thing he could do about that is get the money, and broken bones for the clerics to fix when he was done.

He spotted a cow with runes for door on it. Someone had overbranded it to put their own brand on it. He made a note of the pen as he continued his search for the market boss.