Hell Follows After (Monster of the Apocalypse Saga) by C. Henry Martens Page A

but anyone could refuse. Extra beasts were commonly used like community property on the trade caravans, but there had been wagons and people left behind in dire circumstances where draught animals were scarce.
    The Smithy asked, and Edge agreed, that the horses might need to be pressed into service, and they should be prepared. The poor feed of the desert was marginal for keeping a horse to be ridden, and under a heavy load it would fatigue and die quickly. The days were getting warmer, and feed was getting worse by the day. But better the horses die than themselves.
    Collars and harness were carried as trade goods. Edge would barter for their use and would begin every evening to acclimate the buckskin and the grey to them. They were well matched and, he expected, easy to train, but they would not be proven until used. Hopefully that would never happen.

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    Watching with interest from a position on the side of the overpass, Arc relished what he saw. The Smith and his apprentice had taken a chance, and well shy of their destination they were crippled. As the second span of oxen was led away, he noticed one had a strain. His gait was off. He smiled as he thought about what pleasure he would get if the Smithy and his nephew were left to fend for themselves. Arc decided that he would offer the woman, Muffy, a ride. The look on the men’s faces when he did would be worth something, even if she turned him down. And if she did not, well then…
    As Edge led the span past, Jody had a good view. The commotion had brought her from the interior of her wagon as she was stitching a patch on her benefactor’s shirt. Though she detested it, the work was required in exchange for shelter. She was determined to keep from complaining, but there was a lot she would have liked to say.
    Seeing that Edge was shaken, she studied him and the oxen he was leading. She asked for permission to get down and without waiting scuttled out the back and hit the ground running.
    Edge saw Jody coming and recognized her immediately from a distance. The pants were a dead giveaway. She was the only girl in camp who wore them. Usually women only wore pants to ride, but the girl had brought no dresses and refused any offered.
    “Hold on, Edge,” she commanded him, not as though she were in charge but more like she had something valuable to offer.
    “What ho, Jody?” He smiled. He was glad to stop. His legs felt weak.
    “The team Muffy leads are fine, I think, but these you are leading need to be looked at.”
    In the excitement, Edge had not inspected his charges. He was still coming down from the adrenaline high, his knees twitching. He frowned and looked back at the animals.
    “They do? You see something amiss?” He was concerned.
    The girl reached out and took the lead rope.
    “Here, let me take them and you watch. The one on the right, especially.”
    Sure enough, the ox moved with a stilted gait. Bad news on top of already bad news.
    Handing the lead back again, Jody moved to the injury and knelt, feeling the leg up and down. She looked up.
    “He’ll heal, but if you put him to work it might be injured further. You should let him rest immediately. I’ll make a poultice. He should wear it every night, and you should rest him for a week. The other one you can switch out as you like, but this one needs some time off.”
    The injury was not severe, but Edge was unsure of the girl’s competence in treating the injury. On the other hand he had little choice. He could make poultices, but they were limited in their use, and he did not know the local vegetation or what they used here. With an expensive trip to the Apothecary wagon as the other option, he decided to promote Jody’s ability to Occam and let her try to heal the beast.
    By the time he returned from discussing things with Occam, turning the injured ox over to Jody’s care and then yoking the spare teams and leading them around, the hanging oxen had been cut down.
    Everyone in the caravan took