Califia's Daughters Read Free

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    Now she could hear Dian’s voice from behind the head-high corn, speaking words of praise and encouragement to dogs and horse. As Judith walked past the remnants of the farmhouse’s picket fence, they rounded the final corner, the horse at an easy trot, barely sweating. The dripping dogs, tongues lolling, spotted Judith; the brindle broke into a run to greet her, while big Culum satisfied himself with a wag of the tail from his place at the horse’s side. Dian quickly whistled the young one off and gave them both the signal for “home.” The dogs obediently circled around Judith, looking somewhat apologetic at their muddiness, to lope on up the hill toward the cool and shady pond behind the old barn.
    Dian dropped off next to Judith, and the two women started up the road to the barn, leading the horse.
    â€œThey’re coming, then?” Judith asked, although it was not really a question. “How many?”
    â€œThey’re coming. Should be here around nightfall, unless they can speed up, which didn’t look likely. And they’re playing it cautious—they went around that Remnant where Kat was killed.”
    â€œThat could be a good sign.”
    â€œOr it could mean that they’re smart enough to know that guns won’t do much against booby traps. And it’s a well-scavenged site, which means a lot of traps. Anyway, there’s just the two wagons, both with canvas sides—no seeing what’s inside, but only two horses on each, so the loads can’t be too heavy. Ten riders, two drivers, three more horses tied to the wagons. All the animals looked tired. Unlikely there’s more than twenty women altogether.”
    â€œUnless it’s a Trojan horse.”
    Dian nodded. “In which case the wagons are full to the brim with women and guns. The Smithy’s gang looked innocent too, from all accounts.”
    â€œJust the argument I used this morning whenever anyone objected to the alert.” Judith accepted the reins from Dian, who walked ahead to pull open the heavy barn door; Judith spoke to her sister’s back. “You were right last week when you said we were getting slack. Between the arguments and collecting last-minute things and trying to decide who was going where, it took nearly two hours.”
    â€œShit. If it’d been a right-now emergency . . .”
    â€œI know. We haven’t had so much as a drill in months, so even if this is a false alarm, it’s good practice.”
    â€œHow many of the boys had to be bodily carried off when they found you weren’t going to let them stay and fight?”
    Judith gave a tired grin. “Three.”
    â€œYou can’t breed hormonal impulses out of males in a couple of generations.”
    â€œIt would make life a hell of a lot easier for us if you could.”
    A person could argue, Judith reflected as she handed the reins back to Dian, that male hormonal impulses were precisely what had gotten the world into its present condition, that in a horrendous sort of cosmic joke, menfolk were bearing the brunt of actions chiefly their own. However, to say that, one would have to assert that women lacked the aggressive tendency, and no one with a sister like Dian was about to make that particular assertion. No, violence and belligerence were at home on either set of chromosomes.
    The ancient wooden barn the two women entered was a dim and fragrant place redolent of twelve decades of horse and hay and childhood games, its air placid with the rustle of mice and the patience of cats; once inside, Judith’s taut apprehension lessened a notch. She lowered herself onto the bench that stood against the wall, letting her head fall back against the rough boards, her hands laced together under the round of her belly. From beneath half-closed eyelids she watched her sister flip the reins around the stanchion, into the groove worn by countless