I don’t move. I don’t even think I breathe. I lie on my back, gun aimed at the spot where I last saw them. Everyone stays perfectly still, listening as the bears lumber through the forest. It is only when the sound fades to the softest rustle of distant foliage that I sit up, and then Dalton’s there, lifting me up into a hug so tight I can’t breathe and I don’t want to. I collapse against him, my entire body quivering, and he just keeps murmuring “Okay, okay, okay,” like a mantra, as much for himself as for me.
You’re okay. We’re okay. Everything’s okay.
I take a deep shuddering breath, and he does the same, our exhales in perfect syncopation. Storm nudges my leg, whining, and I reach down to pat her head while Dalton keeps his arms locked around me. At least a few minutes pass before he sets me on the ground, and we both holster our weapons.
“I got to see a grizzly up close,” I say. “Really, really close.”
He lets out a shaky laugh and smiles, arms going around my shoulders in a squeeze. “You did.”
“It was awesome.”
“Not quite the word I’d use.”
Another hug, and then I catch a glimpse of Angus and remember we aren’t actually alone here. I straighten, and Dalton takes my hand and turns toward the settlers—
There is a gun pointed at us.
Leon’s rifle, pointed right at us, Moses beside him, arrow nocked and aimed at Dalton.
26
I spin fast, hand going for my gun, certain the bears are emerging from the forest, but Moses says, “Miss Casey? Please don’t do that,” and my hand stops and I see no sign of any bears behind us.
“What the fuck?” Dalton says. “What the actual fuck?”
“Please lift your hands,” Moses says.
“You’re shitting me,” Dalton says. “Tell me you’re shitting me, because if you are actually holding a gun on my wife after she just risked her life—”
“Calm down, Eric,” Moses says. “Please calm down.”
Dalton sputters, unable to even respond beyond a few half-formed profanities as his face purples with rage.
“What’s going on here?” I ask slowly.
“We need your help,” Moses says.
“Our help?” Dalton’s voice rises, booming through the forest. “You want our fucking help? Pretty goddamn sure we did just help you. Saved your fucking life and Casey nearly got killed doing it. I don’t know what this is about, and I don’t actually give a fuck. You have five seconds to lower those weapons and apologize, or as far as I’m concerned, the First Settlement is as much a threat as the fucking hostiles. Do you understand me?”
“We aren’t going to hurt you, Eric. Not you. Not Casey.”
“Then lower your fucking—!”
“We need one of you to come with us. As our guest.”
An unintelligible string of profanity from Dalton.
I lift a hand to stop his tirade. “We have been through this bullshit before with Edwin, when he wanted a hostage to ensure our help finding a killer . . . a killer who, I will point out . . .”
I turn and look straight at Leon. I don’t need to say another word. The look on his face—the guilt and pain—almost makes me regret bringing it up. Almost.
“This is not how you get our assistance,” I say. “We allowed it that one time, only because someone volunteered. Apparently, that set a dangerous precedent. I understand Edwin wants this problem with the hostiles resolved, but we do not need the incentive of a hostage. Tell him—”
“You tell him,” Angus cuts in. “Better yet, give him back and give Felicity back, and we won’t need to take any hostages.”
“What?” I say.
“Fuck,” Dalton mutters. “Let me guess. Edwin and Felicity haven’t returned from Rockton, and you think we’re holding them hostage.”
Moses shoots a look at Angus. “We are not accusing anyone. All we know is that my daughter and my father-in-law went to Rockton and didn’t return.”
“Daughter . . .” Dalton breathes. A quick glance at me. “Fuck.”
“Okay,” I say. “Everyone’s freaking out and we all need to calm down. Yes, Edwin and Felicity came to Rockton. We spoke to them, and they left.” I lift my watch. “Almost four hours ago—half a day.” I look up at Moses. “I understand that you’re worried, but think about it. What possible reason would we have for taking them hostage?”
“Yeah,” Dalton says. “Best way to deal with complaints is to lock the person up. Then go investigate the case they came to complain about. Makes perfect sense.” His hard gaze sweeps the trio. “Edwin is an asshole, and I don’t want him around a minute longer than necessary.”
“Then you’ve hurt them,” Angus says. “You’re a very angry man, and you lost your temper and hurt them and now you’re holding them captive.”
“A very angry man,” Dalton mutters. “Nah, kid. Right now I’m a fucking furious man. Because the assholes we just saved turned their weapons on my wife—two minutes after she escaped a grizzly bear.”
“Nobody in Rockton hurt Edwin or Felicity. I think you two”—I nod to the men—“know that. You realize they left town of their own free will. The problem is that they’ve gone missing, and if you return home and say so, people will presume we took them. You need to be able to say you crossed that off the list first, by coming home with me in tow as a hostage.”
“Except you don’t actually need to do any of that,” Dalton says. “You could just thank us for saving your asses and then tell us what happened, and let us help you figure out a solution. All that works a helluva lot better when you aren’t holding a gun to our heads.”
“We need leverage,” Moses says. “Whether you have Edwin and Felicity or know something about their disappearance or can help us find them. You will do none of those things without cause.”
“Interesting hypothesis,” Dalton says. “You know the problem with a theory? It remains theoretical until you actually fucking test it. You refuse to collect the empirical evidence required to make this one anything more than a goddamn theory.”
A look passes behind Moses’s eyes. It’s the same one Dalton gets on hearing unfamiliar words—that mingling of confusion, shame, and anger—and I’m about to cut in when Dalton says, “Test your damn hypothesis. Ask us for our help. See what you get.”
“Make him stop talking,” Angus says. “This is what he does. He talks and he talks and he talks, with big words to make us feel small.” He steps forward, knife raised. “Stop talking.”
“Or what?” Dalton says, meeting his gaze.
“I’ll make you stop. By cutting your tongue from your head.”
Dalton’s gray eyes chill. “So your sister wasn’t the only—”
Angus lunges, knife flashing. Dalton’s fist slams out, hitting him in the arm, knocking the knife aside, and then, in a blink, he has Angus in a choke hold and I have my gun out, and there is a moment of chaos—everyone shouting—and then silence. Utter silence as everyone freezes into place.
Dalton has Angus on his knees, arm around his neck. Leon points the rifle at Dalton. I point my gun at Leon. Moses’s bowstring is taut, weapon aiming first at Dalton and then at me and then back. It is as Moses pivots, trying to choose a target, that he stops, shoulders tensing, a sharp hiss of breath whistling through his teeth as he spots something. He pivots his bow—
“Don’t,” Anders says.
“Hey, Will,” I say. “Nice timing.”
He stands behind Leon, his gun to the back of the man’s head. His gaze darts my way, a smile chasing it. “It’s all about the timing, Case. And knowing when you’re shit at sneaking up on people, so you wait for a bit of noise to cover your advance.”
A throat-clearing to my left reveals Sebastian pointing a rifle at Moses. I look at the gun, and then I look at Anders, who shrugs. While Dalton had agreed to let Sebastian try militia duty, I’d suggested not being too quick to give him a weapon. Apparently, not knowing the boy’s background, Anders had decided to ignore that a
dvice. We’ll have to talk about this later.
For now, though, I must admit that Sebastian is doing exactly what I’d expect. He’s calm and collected, pointing that rifle at the correct person, finger off the trigger, the barrel steady, no sign of nerves. I’m not sure Sebastian has nerves, though he can fake them when it’s in his best interests. His true self is this—terrifyingly coolheaded.
“I decided to take the kid on patrol,” Anders says. “We heard shots earlier and came running to find these guys holding you at gunpoint.”
“We’re fine. Just shaken.”
“Well, you’re lucky, because we spotted grizzlies. Three of them. They were off in the distance, though.”
My lips twitch, but I say nothing.
Dalton looks at his deputy. “You almost done? Or do you want to chat about the weather before you get this asshole to point his rifle away from my fucking head?”
“It is nice weather, isn’t it? Bit cooler today, but the sunshine makes up for it.”
Dalton glares at him.
Anders only grins and shrugs. “I’m the deputy, boss. It isn’t my place to give orders while the sheriff is right here and not physically inhibited from giving them himself.”
Dalton grunts and shakes his head. “Leon? Aim that fucking gun somewhere else.”
Moses lowers his bow, but Leon only tenses.
“Yeah, that’s a bad idea,” Dalton says. “You’ve now got a third gun trained on you, Leon, one held by a young man without a whole lot of experience in trigger control.”
Leon’s gaze swings left, and he gives a start, seeing Sebastian for the first time. He doesn’t lower his rifle, though, just says, “I’d appreciate it if you release my boy first, Eric.”
Dalton grunts. “Not actually how this works when you’re outgunned, but I’m gonna let you have this as a sign of good faith.”
He kicks Angus’s knife to his father’s feet and then gives the young man a shove in the same direction. Angus scrambles up and spins on Sebastian.
“You,” Angus says. “This—this is the boy I told you about.” He swings on Moses. “The one who’s been wooing your daughter.”
“Wooing?” Sebastian’s brows shoot up as he lowers the rifle. “Is that like flirting? Or more like dating?”
Angus’s face purples, and amusement dances in Sebastian’s eyes. I shoot Sebastian a warning look, but he only grins my way.
“Either way,” Sebastian says, “it’s incorrect. Felicity and I are friends. You just don’t like that because you’re the one who wants to go a-courting . . . and she’s not interested.” He slings the rifle over his shoulder and holds out a hand to Moses. “You’re Felicity’s dad, then? Nice to meet you. I’m Sebastian.”
Moses shakes his hand. There’s a wariness in his eyes. Veiled curiosity rather than hostility. Maybe a hint of trepidation. Felicity has mentioned Sebastian, then, and Moses isn’t quite sure what to make of the blossoming relationship. His expression reminds me of the mother grizzly’s when she’d been staring down at me.
Are you a threat to my baby?
I don’t think so, but I’m not sure, and I need to be sure.
I do not doubt for one instant that Sebastian spots and correctly analyzes Moses’s reaction. Sebastian is an alien placed on Earth, knowing he must emulate humans if he is to survive. I consider myself skilled in the interpretation of body language, but when I’m with Sebastian, I feel like I do when I watch Dalton navigate the forest—witnessing a skill level I will never reach, because for me, it will always be a matter of interest, never one of survival.
“My name is Moses,” Moses says after a moment. “This is Leon and his son, Angus, who I believe you’ve met.”
“Briefly.” Sebastian eases back with his most disarming smile. “He doesn’t come around much. Shame, really. As much as I like Rockton, it’s nice to hang out with people my own age.”
Sebastian turns to Dalton. “Did I hear something about Felicity and her grandpa?”
A smooth segue, punting the ball in the direction it needs to go. And then, with a look, Dalton lobs the serve my way. Yes, Sebastian was correct to send it to him first—as the sheriff—but Dalton recognizes that he might not be the best person for this conversation, not when he’s still seething.
“Felicity and Edwin are missing,” I say.
Sebastian’s eyes widen, and I can’t tell whether he’d already overheard that or not. “After they left Rockton?”
I nod. “Did she say anything to you?”
He shakes his head and looks over at Moses. “Felicity and I were hanging out while Edwin talked to Eric and Casey. I did make some comment about whether her grandfather was okay with the long walk. She said they stopped to rest, and that’s where they left the villagers who’d accompanied them. They planned to do the same on the walk back. I’d guess that’s where they are—resting—except that I’m also guessing you guys are the ones they were meeting.”
“We are.”
“Where were you meeting?” I ask.
They tell me, and it’s roughly three-quarters of the way from their settlement to Rockton. They’d been hunting there while they waited. Edwin had arrived in Rockton around eleven this morning. He’d left a couple of hours later. He should have reached his escort by midafternoon.
At that time, we’d been at Lynx Lake. Moses, Leon, and Angus had headed toward Rockton. They made it almost to the town with no sign of their leader. As they’d been deciding their next move, they’d heard Dalton and me talking, our voices carrying in the quiet. They’d headed out to intercept us. Moses decided he still had time to pee, stepped away to do that, setting down his bow . . . and found himself between the mother grizzly and her cub.
I glance at Anders. “When were you last in town?”
“An hour ago. The kid and I were patrolling maybe a hundred feet in when we heard the shots. We’d been close to town up until then. So, no, Edwin and Felicity didn’t come back, presuming that’s what you’re asking.”
“It is, thanks.”
I don’t ask whether there’s a chance Edwin left the path for a bit of hunting. He was an old man with a very long walk ahead of him. He wasn’t adding any extra activity to his day.
So now, on top of everything else, we had two people lost in the forest.
Except there was zero chance they actually were lost. Even if they stepped off the path for a rest, they’d find their way back to it easily.
They’ve been taken. I don’t say that. I just exchange a look with Dalton and then turn to the men.
“We’ll help you find them,” I say. “Storm here is trained for tracking. While we are busy handling the hostile problem, we recognize that this is an emergency, and so we’ll divert our resources temporarily. As a gesture of goodwill between our communities.”
“We still need one of your people to come with us,” Leon says.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” Dalton explodes. “Really? Are we back to this?”
“If it was your wife missing, Eric, and we promised to help, you’d want some assurance of that.”
“No, actually, I wouldn’t. I’d appreciate the offer, but I’d understand you don’t owe me shit.”
“You do owe us. Edwin and Felicity were taken because of you. Because of the trouble you’ve stirred up with the hostiles.”
“I didn’t drag Edwin’s wrinkled ass—”
Moses cuts him off. “You are wrong, Eric, when you say you wouldn’t require assurances if the situation were reversed. If it was the best way to get your wife back, our promises would not be enough.”
Dalton starts to argue, but Moses shakes his head. “Whoever we take will be treated as an honored guest. We promise that.”
“The more time we argue, the colder the trail gets,” Anders says. “Casey needs to work with Storm, and Eric’s our human tracker. So . . .” He turns to the men. “You get me.”
Their gazes slide up and down him, taking in his height and the size of his biceps.
“I . . . believe we can come to another arrangement,” Moses murmurs.
Anders chuckles, but Dalton only advances on Moses. “You’re right. We can. And that other arrangement is that you turn around and go look for your leader and hope—just hope—that we don’t say ‘fuck you’ and continue investigating our case, leaving your leader and your daughter in the goddamn forest.”
“Take me,” Sebastian says.
Dalton spins on him. “No. Just no. Stop this shit. First him”—a finger jab Anders’s way—“and now you. We are the ones in charge here. We have the guns. We have the dog. They don’t have jack shit, and they need to remember that.”
“But I’d like to go with them,” Sebastian says softly. “As their guest. Think of me that way. Not a hostage you need to worry about, but a line of communication between the communities as they sort this out. I’ll take Casey’s dirt bike if she’ll let me. I can ferry messages back and forth. And . . .” A sheepish look Moses’s way. “It’s a chance to get to know Felicity’s people. As her friend.”
“What?” Angus squawks. “You are wooing her.” He spins on Moses. “You see that, don’t you? He wants you to get to know him better so he can ask for Felicity’s hand.”
Sebastian shrugs. “I’m not looking for a wife. I just want to get to know her family.”
It’s impossible to fake a blush. That’s a physiological reaction no one can force. But there are ways to emulate the same look without the actual coloring, and Sebastian does an Oscar-worthy job of it. His eyes drop, his gaze slipping just a bit to the side.
It’s not just that. His brows lower, and his expression would do a blushing maiden proud, demure and just a little coquettish. His stance, though, is far from maidenly. He holds himself straight and tall, head turned to his best advantage, muscles flexed.
Sebastian’s appearance is so average that, on a college campus, he’d be one of those guys whose name you never remember. Blandly innocuous. But he’s pleasant-looking, with a lean build that’s been putting on muscle since he arrived in Rockton. The outdoors agrees with him, too; he’s like a plant kept indoors far too long, bursting into glowing good health in the sun and fresh air.
A Stranger in Town: a Rockton novel Page 23
