After seeking directions, I walked out of the village to a large open pasture where I found East Carmine’s second-best Model T. This was a pickup, and far more battered than the sedan, if such a thing was possible. The bodywork had been dented and hammered out so many times that it resembled the skin of a baked potato, and the tires were homemade from scrap rubber, expertly stitched together with braided nylon. As Fandango had explained, the second T was used to neutralize ball lightning. Mounted on the flatbed was a swivel mount upon which sat a powerful crossbow, tensioned and loaded with a copper spike. Sitting on a deck chair by the side of the vehicle was Courtland. He was dressed in herringbone tweeds and had a cup of tea and a plate of biscuits on a small table. Just a little way away, a Grey was staring toward the Western Hills through a pair of binoculars