Peacemaker (9780698140820) (14 page)

Together, he and Teddy got Hector carefully deposited on his narrow bed. The shopkeeper didn't make a sound as they transferred him from the makeshift stretcher to his blankets, and that silence worried Caleb more than any amount of pained moaning would have. There was a sickly tint to the old man's face that Caleb had seen before, in the pallor of so many soldiers—wearing both gray and blue—and it rarely ended well.

Even that brief thought brought the walls closing in, and the summer's oppressive heat seemed cool compared to the stifling oven that was Hector's small room above the store. The moment the doctor returned, Caleb escaped outside and stood on the wooden walk, gulping fresh air. He gripped the railing until his knuckles were white and throbbing.

Ernst appeared, balancing his furry little form on the rail no wider than two of Caleb's fingers. He said nothing, but pressed himself against the Peacemaker's arm, purring softly.

The townsfolk came out of the dark, most still wearing their nightclothes, asking horrified questions as they entered the store. Word traveled fast in a small town, even in the dead of night. None of them seemed to pay Caleb much mind, concerned as they were for Hector's well-being. Someone quickly organized a cleanup of the store, and several women returned to their homes to begin making breakfast for all involved.

His eyes fixed firmly on the ground, Caleb saw them come and go by only the hems of their dresses. The dry, dusty Kansas soil seemed a safe place to let his gaze linger. Surely that wouldn't conjure visions of the war and the horrors he'd seen. “When's it going to end, Ernst?”

The familiar only increased the volume of his purr. Perhaps he didn't have an answer, either.

“Hsst!”

The sound came twice more before Caleb looked up, frowning as he tried to locate the peculiar noise.

“Hsst! Agent Marcus!” Across the street, between the barbershop and the dressmaker's, Jimmy Welton's dirty face poked out of the shadows long enough for the boy to wave frantically, then disappeared.

Glancing around, Caleb stepped off the walk and crossed the street, ducking into the dark alley himself. Ernst followed closely behind with the odd little hop-walk of all rabbits. “Jimmy?”

“Shhh!” The boy popped up from behind a barrel, his eyes darting furtively about. “Don't want nobody ta know I'm here.”

“And why is that?”

The boy just motioned for him to follow further down the alley. “C'mon. Got somethin' ta show you.”

“Jimmy, this isn't really a good time. . . .”

The kid stopped, looking back with as serious a face as Caleb had ever seen on a grown man, let alone a boy of twelve. “It's important.”

The Peacemaker and his familiar followed along without protest after that.

The boy led them all the way to the smithy, where the banked forge glowed faintly in the predawn darkness. He motioned for Caleb to wait and slipped inside for a few moments.

Caleb let his gaze wander over the town. There were more lights on in the houses now as people began to stir, no doubt learning shortly of the attack on one of their own.

“Mr. Isby's asleep, but he'll be up soon, so I gotta make this quick.” Jimmy returned, ghosting through the darkness as silent as a cat. It was eerie. He took a seat on a nearby barrel, his heels banging softly against it. “I saw them.”

“You saw who?”

“The fellas that roughed up Mr. Pratt.” He nodded, a lock of hair falling into his eyes. “I went out ta check my snares, see if I caught any rabbits.” He glanced at Ernst. “No offense. An' I was on my way back to the saloon when I hear this ruckus at the general store. So I go ta peek in the window. And those four fellas were beatin' the holy tar outta him.”

“What fellas, Jimmy? Do you know them?”

The kid nodded quickly. “Oh, yeah, they was all Warner's boys. And Schmidt, he was there. Only he didn't do none o' the beatin'. He just stood and watched with them funny eyes.”

“Did they say why?”

He shrugged. “They was askin' him about telegrams he'd sent for you. Wanted ta know what was in 'em. By the time I got there, he wasn' sayin' much anymore. Dunno what he said before that. Then they broke the telegraph into about a million pieces. That's when I heard someone else coming, and I lit out.” That someone else almost certainly had to be the schoolteacher.

Caleb frowned. Warner thought he knew something, and didn't want word getting out. But word of what? An illegal nullstone mine? It made no sense. “Did they see you?”

Jimmy snorted in disdain. “'Course not. I don't get seen if I don't wanna.”

That much was a relief, at least. “Have you told anyone else what you saw?”

“Naw, I was waitin' for you ta come back. Knew you'd wanna know.”

“You did a good job. Thank you.” Caleb squeezed his shoulder lightly. But damn if they didn't solve one piece of the puzzle to unearth about seventeen more. What the hell was going on?

“Hey, I'm not done yet!” Hopping off the barrel, Jimmy tugged Caleb toward the forge. “After they was done with Mr. Pratt, they said they was gonna go toss yer room. An' I knew you wasn' home yet, so I skedaddled back real quick, and I took yer trunk.”

Under a pile of kiln bricks in the corner, Jimmy unearthed Caleb's Peacemaker trunk, the locking sigils still glowing faintly. “I didn't figure they should have it, even if they couldn't get it open.”

Caleb knelt to inspect the box, just to be sure, but it seemed intact and unharmed. He sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Lord for putting Jimmy Welton in the right place at the right time. Those weapons in Abel Warner's hands . . . the very thought made him ill. “You did the right thing, Jimmy. Thank you.”

The boy beamed. “You can leave it here, if you like. Mr. Isby, he don't look in this corner none; he'll never know it's here.”

“That might actually be a good idea. And while we're on the subject of hiding things, we need to get you under cover.”

Jimmy blinked. “Me? Why?”

“You're a witness, Jimmy. And if those men find out that you can name them, you think they won't come after you? They beat an old man almost to death, I don't think they'll balk at hurting a kid.”

Though the boy went pale, he stuck his jaw out stubbornly. “I ain't scared.”

“Good. Because I won't let anything happen to you. But still, I think you're going to stay with Miss Sinclair for a few days and stay out of sight.” With any luck, that would keep both his witnesses safely occupied.

“Nuh-uh! She'll make me take a bath!” Clearly, the horror of bathing far outweighed the possibility of being tracked down by murderous thugs.

“You could stand a good bath.” Ernst sniffed the air primly, and the boy actually blushed.

“And what am I gonna do, stuck inside all day? She'll make me learn ta knit or somethin'!”

“You can use the time for extra tutoring.” His hand on the boy's shoulder, Caleb steered him back toward the general store. “You're too important to risk, Jimmy. I hope you realize how much I'm going to need you in the next few weeks.”

“What do I gotta do?”

“When the time comes, I need you to stand up in front of a bunch of people and tell them what you saw. Think you can do that?”

The kid thought about it for a few moments. “Yeah. I can do that.”

“I knew you could.”

Chapter 11

Keeping an eye on the schoolteacher was easy. She was still helping Dr. Elm with Hector when Caleb and Jimmy got back to the store. Caleb put Jimmy on a stool in an out-of-the-way corner with firm orders to stay—and left Ernst to keep an eye on him—and climbed the stairs again, navigating around people bustling to and fro on errands for the doctor or just trying to be nosy.

Actually getting her alone proved to be a bit more difficult. Hector's room was more crowded than was healthy, and Caleb arrived in time to see Ellen evict everyone with a no-nonsense glare and more than a few terse words. Obviously, she had recovered some of her nerve. Caleb pressed against the wall to avoid being trampled until he was the only one left, and then she fixed her glare on him, too.

“He's the same as he was, and you can't do anything, so out!”

“I actually came to talk to you, if you have a moment.”

Wiping her hands on her apron—and when had that appeared?—she stepped out of the room onto the top step. “Will it take long? I'm still helping Dr. Elm with the stitching.”

Caleb sighed, running a hand over his face. “I . . . It might. When you're done, then? I'll wait downstairs.”

She smiled, though it was obviously forced. Bless the girl, she was trying. “Of course. You should get some coffee, Agent Marcus. You look dead on your feet.”

He felt dead on his feet, now that she mentioned it. He couldn't remember the last meal he'd had, let alone sleep.

Still instructing Jimmy to stay inside the store, Caleb found a chair and dragged it to the walk outside. He found a safe nook and sat, leaning the chair back on two legs and tugging his hat down over his eyes. With the entire town coming and going, it was surely safe to rest his eyes for just a moment.

The sunrise was beautiful, in shades of pale pink and a hint of the night's lingering violet. “Red sun at morning, sailors take warning. . . .” There was no red sun, though. No rain on the horizon. Just another day dawning hot and dry.

He wasn't even aware that he was dreaming until the Indian woman walked out of the doorway next to him, glancing about the town curiously. Her boots passed over the broken glass on the sidewalk without disturbing a single shard, and then all sound faded away, leaving the two of them alone in the morning's first light.

“You again?”

She gave him a smile, pointing toward the mountains.

“No, not this time. I don't know how you're doing this, but you either tell me what you want, or go away and leave me in peace.”

She pointed again, her smile fading into an insistent frown.

Caleb stood, and the chair beneath him vanished as if it had never been there. “No. I've had enough of your folk for the time being. Lacking in hospitality, I must say.”

A look of frustration crossed her lovely face, and she seemed to be debating something. Finally, she held her hand out to him, asking him with a pleading look to take it.

“You're not going to leave me alone, are you? Every time I close my eyes, you're going to come walking into my dreams until I do what you want.”

She stepped closer, offering both hands now, silently begging him to take them.

With a resigned sigh, Caleb placed his hands in hers.

They were in the mountains; that much was clear. Taking his hand, she led him down a rocky path that meandered aimlessly through the tall trees. She had no regard for the darkness of the night, save to smile each time she heard a night bird call.

As the trail headed steadily upward, Caleb climbed beside her, realizing belatedly that all his aches and pains had faded. He felt like he could climb the entire mountain, and the one beyond that as well. She tugged at his hand as he lagged behind in his reverie, and he walked faster to catch up.

“Where are you taking me?” She didn't answer, which was no more than he'd expected. “What is so important?”

She turned and pressed a finger to her lips, imploring him to be silent, and walked on.

It felt like they walked for hours, wending their way up the mountain, climbing through rocky crags and twisted gnarled pines by the end. Caleb could tell they were nearing their destination, because she motioned for him to stay and crept ahead, disappearing from view for some time.

When she returned, she again motioned for him to be silent, her grim face telling him how serious this was. Then she led him forward.

They crouched at the top of a rocky outcropping looking down into a vast chasm in the mountainside. A few hardy bushes clung to the steep sides, but for the most part it was a graveyard of fallen, shattered boulders, a river of jagged stone flowing through a deep canyon.

Nothing stirred. No birds flew overhead; no agile mountain goats braved the peaks. It was deathly still.

The woman reached a hand out, passing it lightly over Caleb's scarred eye. The touch was gentle, almost a lover's caress, and when she was done, she pointed again into the rocky abyss.

A giant slumbered there. He had not been there only moments before, but he was there now. Made of the same rock as the chasm itself, the behemoth slumbered at the bottom of the canyon, cradled as tenderly as any child. His face was formed of chiseled boulders, hard planes of granite and shale. The full moon caught crystals of quartz on his surface, and he sparkled. His craggy hands could have crushed an entire house with little effort, and the entire mountain vibrated with the force of his breathing.

Sleepily, the massive creature shifted its shoulders, barely moving at all, and farther down the mountain, a rocky avalanche crushed all that lay before it.

Oh, how Caleb wanted to ask her what the giant was, but he suddenly understood the danger. God forbid that thing should wake and find them there.

The woman rested her hand on his arm, her eyes asking if he'd seen enough. He nodded, and they were suddenly gone from that place, returned to the thick of the forest.

“What the hell was that thing?”

Once again, she did not answer, but motioned him to follow. Their trek this time was faster, and she stopped them in a thicket of dense foliage. Pushing one branch aside, she pointed ahead.

This time, Caleb knew just where he was. They looked down on the nullstone mine, and he could even see the small rise where he'd watched them the night before. There was no one visible, but the sounds of picks on stone were loud in this strange dream stillness, sharp enough to hurt his ears and make his teeth ache in his head. Ghostly miners, going about their tasks unseen.

Tink-tink-TINK! On and on it went, even when he pressed his hands over his ears. Tink-tink-TINK! TINK-TINK-TINK!

He felt it before he heard it, rising up through the soles of his feet, shuddering through his hips into his chest, where his heart went cold with a deep primal terror. And when the roar reached them, the trees themselves bent nearly double in fear. The great rock giant was bellowing in pain.

High above them, near the cloud-covered peak, the mountain was moving. Great sheets of shale and granite were shifting, sliding, gathering momentum as they plunged down.

“We have to run! Go, go!” He tugged at his companion, urging her to run, but she only looked at him with sad eyes. And he knew there was nowhere they could hide. “What do we do? We have to do something!”

The sharp sting on his face brought him awake with a startled yell, and he grabbed at the delicate wrist before he realized who it belonged to. Ellen Sinclair froze, eyes wide, the alcohol-soaked cloth in her hand poised just in front of his face. The people standing on the sidewalk all stared at him, and more were peering from inside the store, their attention drawn by his wild shout.

His heart gradually resumed a normal pace as he realized that there were no great waves of rock about to come crashing down on his head. Belatedly, he released his bruising grip on Ellen's wrist, mumbling an apology.

“Nonsense.” As if he'd never moved, she leaned close again, dabbing at his face with the pungent swab. “I wanted to see to these scratches on your face, but you were sleeping so deeply. . . .”

The colors of sunrise were gone, replaced by the harsh and glaring light of day. “How long did I sleep?”

“Not more than an hour.” The cuts stung despite her efforts to be gentle, but he didn't say a word. He'd nearly forgotten they were there. She paused at his scar, looking at it thoughtfully. “Does it impair your vision any?”

“No.”

She made a noise of professional interest. “You were lucky, then.”

He could have debated that with her, but let it pass. “Do you have time to talk now? Privately?”

She raised a curious brow, but nodded. “I suppose so.”

Reaching his limit for being coddled, Caleb gently pushed her hands away and stood. “The saloon, then? Bring Teddy, too.”

Inside the store, the destruction had largely been cleared up. Perhaps everything wasn't as neat and tidy as Hector might have liked it, but the volunteers had made great headway. Jimmy was still sitting on his stool in the back corner, eyeing a jar of peppermints thoughtfully. Caleb guessed they had about another five minutes before the boy grew bored enough to start pocketing the sweets.

“Jimmy! Ernst! March!” Every adult in the place flinched at his sharp commands, but both the boy and the familiar hopped to without protest. More than one person watched in amazement as the town hooligan obediently fell into line behind the Peacemaker.

At the doorway, Caleb hesitated and looked to the boy at his heel. “We're going to the tavern. Quickly, with no stops. And if I tell you to run, you move like your rump is on fire, and you don't look back, understand?”

Jimmy's eyes went wide. “You really think I'll need ta?”

Caleb shrugged, clapping him on the shoulder. “Consider it good practice, just in case.”

Truthfully, he didn't believe that Warner's men would be back for witnesses. Not yet. But despite the fact that he'd ordered Jimmy to stay silent, secrets had a way of getting around in a small town. Schmidt already knew about Ellen Sinclair, and it was only a matter of time before they found out about Jimmy. There was no way they could leave two people behind who might testify.

He kept his hand on Jimmy's shoulder as they walked down the street, Ernst hopping escort on the other side. He could feel the boy's breath coming fast, see the pulse thudding in his neck. The kid was scared to death, and yet he kept walking calmly, even calling hellos to a few people who greeted them.

The tavern was one hundred paces away. Sixty. Thirty. Ten. And then they were inside, the doors flapping behind them. Caleb grinned down at Jimmy. “See? That wasn't so bad.”

Teddy and Ellen were waiting already, and the bartender set a sarsaparilla out for Jimmy, and lemonade for Caleb when he refused a stiffer drink. “It's morning, Teddy, good Lord.”

“After the night ye've had, I thought ye might deserve it.”

Ernst flopped down on the bar with an exhausted whuff of breath, lapping at the whiskey Caleb had turned down.

The lemonade tasted better than any liquor he could remember, and he realized how truly parched he'd been. He drained the glass in a few long gulps, and Teddy filled it up again.

“What did you want to speak about, Agent Marcus?” Ellen had managed to freshen up, her hair tidied and dirty apron discarded. It was hard to tell she'd been awake most of the night, as well, but she clasped her hands together so tightly her knuckles were white.

Caleb turned his glass in his hands, watching the beads of sweat run down over his fingers. “You witnessed something terrible last night, Miss Sinclair, but you weren't the only one.”

Jimmy clambered up on the stool beside him, and Caleb ruffled his hair.

“Oh, no . . . Jimmy?” Ellen covered her mouth in dismay. “Did they see you?”

The boy shook his head. “No, Miss Sinclair. I was real careful.”

Teddy frowned. “They saw Ellen. They'll come back for her.”

Caleb nodded his agreement. “Or worse, they'll have Schmidt deal with it from afar. That's why I want Ellen and Jimmy both to stay in this building, away from the windows, until I get back.”

“Back?”

“Just where are you going?”

Ernst looked up as well, whiskey dripping from his whiskers, and Caleb reached out to stroke his soft fur.

“They destroyed Hector's telegraph. I can't try to arrest four men on my own. I need some reinforcements. So I'm going to ride back to Tasco to wire the Kansas City office.”

“Tasco's a five-day ride!”

“I know. But it's the nearest telegraph office. I don't know enough about the system to try and tap into the lines directly from here, and without Hector's help we're out of choices.”

Though Ellen looked like she might continue her protests, Teddy was a more practical man. After a moment's thought, he pulled a pack out from behind the bar and started stuffing food into it. “I dinnae have much fresh, but the bread should last a few days, and if ye can shoot a rabbit or two on the way, ye should do fine. I'll get yer canteen filled up with water, too.”

Jimmy finally piped up, the words bursting out of him before any of the adults could silence him. “I could come with you! I'm light; you wouldn't even notice me on a hauler like that. And you could keep me safe that way.”

Caleb smiled and mussed his already tousled hair. “You're safer here where you know the territory. You know all the good hiding places.”

He was hardly mollified and grumbled to himself as he went back to his sarsaparilla.

Ellen was harder to fool. “They beat Hector because of telegrams you sent? What was in them?”

Caleb shook his head. “It wasn't what was in them. It's what they
thought
was in them. And I have no idea what that was. Warner thinks I've found something damaging, perhaps.”