CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Cedar Hunt was halfway back to Mae Lindson’s house,
having made his way to the Madders’ mine. He’d found the brothers
gone, his clothes and guns wrapped up tidy as a parcel near their
front door. Didn’t know where his horse was, either somewhere in
the brothers’ mountain or maybe set loose. Didn’t take the time to
track it down.
He’d promised Mae
Lindson they would face the Strange together, but more than once
he’d found himself blacking out in the saddle on his way back to
her house, the wound stealing his strength and his senses away. Now
he was on foot, pacing, waiting for the curse, the change, to slip
over him.
The deep-belly warmth
of the wolf stirring in him eased the pain in his side some. Maybe,
he thought as he unbuttoned his shirt and folded it atop the mule’s
saddle, the change would heal the wound. It would help; he was sure
of that.
The moon, shaded to
the waning, pushed up at the horizon’s edge as Cedar pulled off his
boots, pants, and belt. He secured his clothing alongside the
borrowed clothes and weapons, then drank down the last of the water
from the canteen and secured it too.
He rubbed the mule’s
muzzle, then pointed her in the direction of Mae’s house, and sent
her on her way.
Moonlight, silver and
pure, burnished the dry, golden land. And Cedar Hunt’s fingers
found first the tuning fork, then the crescent moon and arrow chain
still around his neck. He hoped the chain would help him keep his
reason and wits one more time, so that he could find Elbert, find
his brother, and hunt down Mr. Shunt.
He arched his back,
bathing in the moonlight, no longer feeling the pain of his injury,
no longer feeling any worries, any cares. If he couldn’t kill Mr.
Shunt as a man, he’d sure as hell find a way to kill him as a
wolf.
Cedar gave in to the
change, relished the warmth and the thick haze of sensation that
stretched and remade him. And then he lost himself, drowned himself
in the killing needs of the wolf. And ran, toward town, toward Mae
Lindson.
Rose Small considered
not returning to her home. But there were things stashed there she
might need, things that might help her save Mae. She ran up the
porch stairs and through the main room to the stairs that led up to
her bedroom tucked against the rafters. As she ran, her mind sorted
options.
She didn’t have much
time. If Mr. Shard LeFel had a few minutes more, she was sure the
entire town would be marching out to burn Mae’s house down. Speed
was the best she could do. Reach Mae before the town reached her.
Warn her to run.
But if that didn’t
work, they’d need weapons.
Rose pulled out a
knapsack. The canvas was stiff, the buckles old, but strong. Into
the bag she stuffed her spare dress, underthings, shoes, and
sweater. She added the leather-wrapped tools Mr. Gregor had given
her on the sly, and which she kept stashed beneath her bed, out of
her parents’ sight.
She hesitated over
the bits of brass and gears in the box under her bed. She had
gathered all of it over the years, things she used to make things,
fix things, devise things. She didn’t want to leave so much behind,
but didn’t see how the weight of it, nor the bits themselves, would
be of practical application tonight.
Instead, she packed
bullets for her Remington and derringer.
Rose pulled on her
overcoat. She’d added pockets on the inside of the coat, and into
those she stashed bullets.
Rose found the
messenger satchel, which she’d fashioned out of oiled leather. She
tucked into it a sheaf of paper, pen and ink, her three books, and
a thin but sturdy wool blanket.
Lastly, she drew her
heartiest bonnet and a tool belt out from under her bed. She
buckled the belt around her waist, holstering both guns into it,
then put on the hat.
She took a moment to
look around her room, at the only home she had known. Even though
she wasn’t wanted, she would miss it. But it was time to move on.
She’d known it for years. And now there was no denying it
anymore.
Just as she turned
toward the door, she saw one last thing. A palm-sized china doll
that had been wrapped up in the blanket with her when she’d been
abandoned on the doorstep. Impractical to take along now. She’d
need room in her packs for other things. Like food.
Rose picked up the
doll and hugged her tight to her chest. She had whispered all her
hopes and fears to that doll, had held her and pretended she was a
gift from her real mother, an admission that her mother left her
behind out of love, not hate or shame.
“No place for you
now,” Rose whispered to the doll. She placed her on the window,
facing the street below and the horizon beyond, so she could look
out at the world.
Then Rose left her
room, her home. She closed the door behind her and did not look
back.
The grumble and growl
of the crowd spilling out from the church, the racket of horses and
wagons being mounted, lined up, and loaded, pricked fear into her
heart. Rose ran down the street, taking the shadows, taking the
less-traveled ways. She might yet be able to steal up a horse at
the livery and ride hard out to Mae’s. She might yet get there
before the town had even started their hunt.
The edge of town was
coming up quick. The livery just a few yards off. She could smell
the wet straw and stink of the horses inside. Almost there
now.
Hands grabbed her
arms and waist, lifted her, and pressed her against the wall of the
livery outbuilding.
Rose struggled, and
worked to get at her gun in her pocket. “Let me go, Henry
Dunken!”
“Hold on, now,” a
voice said. Not Henry.
Rose blinked, and
realized it wasn’t Henry who had hold of her wrists. It was the
Madder brothers. All three of them, hair wild, eyes wilder, and
their smiles looking half-crazed.
“We hope you’ll
excuse us our sudden detainment of you,” Alun said, “but time is
ticking down.”
“Let me go,” Rose
demanded.
The brothers, Bryn
and Cadoc, who held her on either side, let go of her. Rose hadn’t
expected that.
“This is a matter of
grave importance, Rose Small,” Alun said. “Otherways we would not
have snatched you down in the middle of your flight.”
“I have matters of my
own to attend and no time for any other grave things, Mr. Madder,”
Rose said with her chin tipped up.
Alun’s grin appeared
in his beard. He nodded. “Aye. Then tell us this and we’ll let you
about your way. What did you see in that boy back at the
church?”
“Why do you care?”
Rose replied. “It may as well have been nothing for all the good it
did.”
“Enough of nothing
that you’re running, pockets full and foot-fast, out of the town
you’ve been raised in,” he noted.
“They won’t believe
me,” Rose said. “I thank you for standing up to Mr. LeFel back
there on my behalf. But that doesn’t make us beholden to each
other.”
Alun glanced over at
Bryn, who shrugged his heavy shoulders.
Cadoc, the youngest
brother, spoke. “Please forgive our crude manners,” he said. “We’ve
been long, too long, unto these lands, and the heat of our concern
tempers our actions.” Here he gave Alun a look. Alun shook his head
and stared up at the sky, shoving his hands in his pockets as if
awaiting a late train.
“What we wonder, Miss
Small,” Cadoc continued, “is if you see the Strange.”
Rose caught her
breath. What should she say to these drunken miners? She’d barely
spoken to them in the time they’d been in town, and she had no
reason to trust them not to do her harm. Except for that they had
stood up for her back in the church.
“I don’t know that I
understand your meaning,” she hedged. “If you’ll excuse me, I need
to go now.”
“Rose,” Alun said
softly in the tone she’d always thought best suited a father. “Miss
Rose,” he corrected. “We mean you no harm, lass. But if you can see
the Strange, it would make a difference to us, and to what we can
do to help you save your friend Mae Lindson.”
Rose blinked and
tried to swallow that all down. “Help me? Why?”
Alun grinned and it
was a wicked thing. “If for no other reason than to make that
whoreson LeFel squirm.”
“I don’t throw my
lots in with strangers,” Rose said.
“We give you our
word.” Alun extended his hand.
“Our word and honor,”
Bryn added, placing his hand alongside Alun’s.
“Word, honor, and
protection,” Cadoc said, leaning in to add his hand to the
brothers’, so that their hands were offered, palm to back to palm,
toward her.
Rose supposed it
wasn’t a safe thing to accept the promise of men who were likely
mad. But then, folk thought the same thing about her, and they were
wrong. “You’ll help me save Mrs. Lindson?” she asked.
“Aye, girl,” Alun
said. “That and more.”
“And what will you
expect me to pay?”
Alun nodded
approvingly. “Your answer to our question. And a
favor.”
The sound of the town
rising up and making ready made Rose glance over her shoulder. She
half expected to see men riding with torches and guns. No more time
to think this through. She had made her decision.
Rose shook their
hands. “Done.”
“Can you?” Cadoc
asked.
“Can I what?” Rose
said.
“See the
Strange?”
Rose looked into his
eyes. He was patient, waiting, as if he had all of time for her
answer.
“Yes,” she said in a
rush. “I can. Mostly. But that doesn’t matter now. I need to warn
Mae Lindson.”
“No horse, no mount,
no wings,” Bryn mused. “You’ll not get there fast enough with those
feet of yours.” He gave her a sly look. “You weren’t figuring to
procure a horse from the livery, were you?”
Rose felt the blush
fire her cheeks. “There’s no other way I can get to her place fast
enough.”
“We’ve ways,” Alun
said. “Come this way, lass. We’ve a shortcut.”
Alun rambled off into
the dark, moonlight sliding over him and setting him to burnish as
if he were made of steel. He waved his hand over his shoulder.
“Now, girl. There’s not much time.”
Rose started off
after Alun, his brothers following behind her. This was madness,
following three crazy devisers into the brush, alone, in the night.
“This shortcut will take us to Mae Lindson’s house?” she
asked.
“Yes,” Alun’s voice
floated back to her through shadows cast by trees and the stretch
of chimneys and walls of the town. “But first, we’ll need
weapons.”
He stopped by a large
boulder and Rose stopped behind him. They were on the edge of the
town where scrub rolled up and away across the rocky hill. Alun
looked over at her. “We trust you’ll keep this secret minded,” he
said.
“Is that the favor I
owe you?”
Alun’s eyebrows shot
up, and then he laughed, loud and bellyfull. “You’ve got wit, for
sure. No, that’s not the favor proper. That favor we’ll come to
terms on after we take care of your friend. But I have your
word?”
“Yes.” Rose was about
willing to promise anything if the brothers would hurry this up.
She was losing far more time than she was gaining.
“Good.” Alun pulled a
lever, cleverly hidden at the base of the boulder, and the boulder
itself rolled aside, clunking and grinding as if unused, dragged on
pulleys beneath the ground.
Cadoc and Bryn struck
flint and steel to candles they produced from within the voluminous
pockets of their coats, and Alun did the same. In the wan
candlelight, Rose could see a wooden ladder leading down deep into
the earth.
Alun walked to the
edge of the hole and started down. “Hurry on, girl. These tunnels
will take us quickly to your friend’s side.”
Rose looked away from
the fall of his candlelight sinking deeper and deeper, looked
instead at the brothers Bryn and Cadoc.
Bryn said, “We have
supplies hidden in the tunnels. And have mapped a route that will
take us to the Lindsons’ farm. You’ll see no harm at our hands,
Miss Small.” He gestured toward the mouth of the tunnel. “After
you.”
Rose took one last
deep breath of clean air and nodded. Then she started down the
stairs into the heart of the world.