Rangers at Roadsend

by Jane Fletcher

  Kim shook her head in mock sorrow. “What a way for Rangers to act! You can’t keep this up for long, or you’ll have the whole squadron contorted with frustration on your behalf.”

  “I’m sure nobody is keeping a tally.”

  “Just as well. There’s nothing to count.” Kim was completely unmoved by the angry glare Chip was directing at her. She tapped Chip’s shoulder. “Catch you tomorrow.” Kim smiled once more and then sauntered in the general direction of the attractive local.

  Chip cleared her throat. “Um...ignore her. She was just being a clown.”

  “I’m not so sure. Isn’t it one of the rules that all Rangers should go at sex like a three-year-old in a cake shop—one bite out of everything?”

  “No.” Chip’s reply came out more sharply than she intended. “Kim’s just...” She paused, gathering herself. “Kim has her own demons to fight. Her family was killed by bandits when she wasn’t much more than a kid. She was the one who found the bodies. I think Kim…she plays around so much, it’s a defense thing. A way of keeping people at arm’s length. She won’t let herself get close; then she can’t get hurt.”

  “She cares about you.”

  “Yes, well...as a friend.” Chip looked across the room. Already, Kim had the local’s undivided attention. “I think by now, she knows you can’t cut yourself off from everyone. And she’s grown. She doesn’t need the emotional armor, but she carries on out of habit.”

  “But the rest of the Rangers all act pretty much the same.”

  “I don’t.”

  “What about the trader in Landfall?”

  Chip swallowed, unable to think of anything to say. “I...er...she was...”

  “You don’t need to explain. It’s not you who’s out of line; it’s me.” Katryn said bitterly. Then she buried her face in her hands. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have joined the Rangers. I never was any good at one-night stands.”

  “They’re not compulsory.”

  “Aren’t they?”

  “No. It’s your skill with a bow that counts, not your performance in—” Chip swallowed the end of the sentence. She realized that she had gotten into a conversation with Katryn that she desperately did not want to have.

  Katryn let her hands drop and looked toward the bar. “Or perhaps I should give it a go...act like a proper Ranger...see if it helps. You never know; I might get to like it. What do you think of my chances with her?”

  Chip followed the direction of Katryn’s eyes and realized that they were fixed on one of the women standing near the bar. Chip felt her own eyes narrow and was surprised by the strength of her response. The woman looked like a perfectly nice, ordinary person. It was completely unjustified to want her to drop through a hole in the floor.

  At the sound of movement, Chip turned back, bracing herself for the sight of Katryn getting to her feet. However, the opposite had happened. Katryn had sunk farther down in her chair, her eyes now glued to the floor.

  “Katryn, don’t worry. Kim was just joking. Nobody in the squadron will be bothered about what you do. You don’t have to prove yourself like that.”

  “Oh, it’s not what Kim said. It’s just me, thinking...wondering whether it would provide a distraction, since I can’t have the woman I want.”

  The last of Katryn’s words were spoken so softly that Chip was not sure she had heard them correctly. She made an intuitive leap that, with luck, would not land her in anything too nasty if she got it wrong. “Your partner from Woodside...Allison, wasn’t it? You’re still in love with her?”

  Katryn looked puzzled for a moment; then she shook her head. “No. I think I’ve completely recovered from her.”

  “Oh. So...” Chip’s voice died. She had the sense that she was missing half the conversation.

  “Is HQ really so down on affairs between Rangers?”

  “Only if it gets serious.” Chip gestured toward the room. “It’s a safe bet that several of the women here will—” Halfway through the sentence, the implications of Katryn’s question caught up with Chip’s brain. She stumbled through the last few words. “Er...wake up in each...other’s beds...tomorrow.”

  Chip averted her face while her mind scrambled through memories of the past few days, trying to work out who Katryn might be referring to. Had anyone been receiving extra attention from Katryn or spending more time with her? Or was Katryn speaking hypothetically, reverting to a previous topic as a way to avoid what was becoming an increasingly awkward conversation?

  “But it all gets a bit trickier between a sergeant and a lower rank?”

  Katryn’s words were devoid of emphasis, but they hit Chip like a sledgehammer. She scoured the people standing at the bar, trying to recall exactly where they had been positioned a few minutes earlier. She had thought that Katryn was staring at the local woman. But where had Kim been standing?

  It figures—the two best-looking women in the squadron. The thought shot through Chip’s head, followed by I can cope with it...easy...all I have to do is saw my own head off with a blunt knife, and it won’t bother me in the slightest.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said.” Katryn’s voice recalled Chip from her stunned silence. On the other side of the room, the singers broke into another, even bawdier song. Katryn gestured in their direction. “Why don’t we go and join in?”

  “Er...yeah...sure.” Chip felt dazed. She turned her head and found herself staring deep into Katryn’s eyes.

  Katryn blushed and dropped her gaze. “Look, I know the rules. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. Please forget I spoke. I won’t mention it again.” She smiled weakly and then rose from her chair.

  “That’s okay.” Chip stood and followed her across the room, frowning. Her confusion mushroomed. Just exactly what had Katryn been saying?

  Chip’s eyes dropped to the empty tankard in her own hands. Might the better question be, just how much had she drunk?

  Chapter Nineteen—An Old Story

  March was easily Chip’s least favorite month. The weather was utterly unpredictable and unstable. A thaw could set in, only to be overwhelmed by blizzards the next day. The one thing you could guarantee was mud. It was also the month when the snow lions were at their most dangerous, from a human point of view. Once the spadehorns started dropping their calves, the lions would be far more deadly to the young herbivores than they ever were to domestic stock and women. By April, the snow would be in retreat, taking the lions with it, but in March, there were snow lions and mud.

  Chip was mumbling curses at the weather as she crossed the main square in Eastford. She had the collar of her cloak turned up and the brim of her hat pulled down to keep the stinging sleet off her face. Her eyes were fixed on the flagstones, watching for icy patches. She collided with a figure in black who was similarly scurrying, head down, across the storm-blown square.

  Chip started to apologize before she recognized the other woman. “Lieutenant Sanchez.”

  “Sergeant Coppelli,” the Militiawoman responded.

  “What brings you to Eastford?”

  “Only regional business.” Sanchez made as if to move on. Neither wanted to hang about in the open and chat. Then she stopped and asked, “Have you thought of anything about Ellis’ murder?”

  “A few bits and pieces.” Chip started to back away as the sleet increased in intensity. “I’m at the Three Barrels. If you’ve got time, come find me, and we’ll discuss it.”

  “I’ll do that!” Sanchez shouted before she turned and hurried off.

  *

  It was just after dinner when the Militia lieutenant made good on her promise. Chip was lounging by the open fire when she saw Sanchez come in, shaking the water off her cape. In midafternoon, the sleet had changed to rain, but it would probably be back to snow by morning. Chip called out and waved Sanchez over. The barmaid had a drink ready for the Militiawoman even before she sat down at the table.

  “Very nice,” Sanchez said, smiling. “I can see Central is going to have to
beg to get you to go back.”

  “It’s going to be like turfing an old dog out of her kennel,” Chip agreed.

  They both took a taste of their drinks; then Sanchez became more businesslike. “You said you had information about Ellis’ murder.”

  “Remember you said that if I could tell you how it was done, you could tell me the motive?”

  “Yes, and I was totally serious.”

  “I think I can provide methods for quite a few people.”

  “Go on, then,” Sanchez said, her eagerness showing through her smile.

  Chip went through her ideas. Even before she got to the end, she could tell that Sanchez had problems with what she was saying. However, the lieutenant let her finish. Then she leaned forward and said, “I hate to tell you this, but—”

  “There’s something I don’t know.” Chip finished the line for her. “Okay, tell me.”

  “The riverside path. Rain in our area is pretty constant throughout the year, but in winter, it gets locked up as snow, and the level of the river drops. You saw the river at its lowest. In summer, when the murder happened, the river was a good meter higher.” Sanchez pursed her lips thoughtfully. “You could still get to the end of the alleyway, and maybe a third of the way along, but the middle part is the lowest. It’s still wadeable, but the murderer would have been spotted if she’d gone back to the tavern soaked to the knees. On top of that, there’s broken glass cemented onto the top of the wall. It’s not visible from the ground, but anyone who tried climbing over would get cut to ribbons.”

  Chip sunk down in her chair. “So it’s Takeda, then,” she said softly.

  “That was what I was getting to. Obvious, really. I should have thought of it myself.”

  Chip frowned. “The trouble is, she doesn’t seem to have either the personality or the reason to murder Ellis.”

  Sanchez placed a forefinger on either side of her drink. Her face was pensive as she twisted the tankard around. “Okay, then, for my side of the bargain. The motive…” The frown on her forehead deepened. Then she looked up at Chip. “It’s part of an old story. Have you heard about the outlaw called the Mad Butcher and what happened to the 12th fourteen years back?”

  “There was a massacre.”

  “Right. And did you know that Takeda’s older sister was one of the Rangers who died?”

  “No.”

  “The family comes from Eastford. Takeda’s mothers have a blacksmith’s forge on the other side of the river. By Ranger policy, both she and her sister would have been assigned to Eastern Division, so it isn’t that much of a coincidence that they both went to the same squadron. And of course, her older sister was dead by the time Takeda joined.” Sanchez stared into the nearby fire, musing. “I’ve known both sisters, not terribly well, but enough to talk to. They’re completely different personalities. Takeda is serious and intense and painfully conscientious. She’ll end up in divisional staff, pushing paper around. Her sister was more of a typical Ranger.”

  “Loud, reckless and brazen?” Chip suggested.

  “Your words, not mine.” Sanchez smiled. “She was also, in my opinion, the less bright of the two by quite a wide margin. However, Takeda worshiped her older sister. I’m sure that’s why she followed her into the Rangers.” She paused. “I guess you’re wondering where this is going.”

  Chip shrugged by way of an answer.

  “If you’ve been told about the massacre, you must have heard someone tipped the Butcher off about the Rangers’ plans. Officially, we never found out who. However, I was one of the people in the Militia given the job of trying to find the source of the leak. We didn’t prove it absolutely. Too many people we needed to talk to were dead. But Takeda’s sister was right at the top of the list of candidates—not as a deliberate betrayal; most likely unguarded pillow talk. She wasn’t noted for discretion, and the night before the raid, she was in one of the Roadsend taverns, utterly plastered and bragging that the 12th was going to put an end to the Mad Butcher. She was last seen that night in the arms of a local woman whom we never identified for certain, but her description matched someone who was later found to be a member of the Butcher’s gang. Unfortunately, we couldn’t ask the bandit, since she wasn’t taken alive.”

  Sanchez sighed. “And that’s where it was left. A decision was made higher up that no purpose would be served by naming the guilty party. It wouldn’t bring the dead back, and Takeda’s sister had paid for her mistake. By all accounts, she played a hero’s part in the fighting, holding off three bandits single-handedly, giving the few surviving Rangers the chance to escape. For the sake of her family, HQ wanted her to be remembered like that.”

  “Did Ellis know this?” Chip asked.

  “Yes, though she didn’t admit it. Believe it or not, she and Takeda’s sister were friends. Ellis was a much nicer person before she became a sergeant. She had been in the tavern that night and saw the woman in question. We asked her to identify the bandit’s body. I was there. Ellis hardly bothered to look. Just a quick glance. Then she turned around and said it wasn’t the same woman.”

  “She was protecting her friend’s memory?”

  “That was the feeling I got.”

  Chip considered the information in relation to the murder. “So…what I think you’re implying is that there was growing friction between Takeda and Ellis. Ellis was being unpleasant about the Ranger in the lockup, and there was the affair of the woman killed by lions. We know they argued about something on the day Ellis was killed. You think, as part of the argument, Ellis threatened to disclose what she knew about Takeda’s sister?”

  Sanchez nodded. “Takeda can be cold. One of the few things she is violently passionate about is her heroic dead sister. She’s thumped people in the past for jokes she saw as bad taste.”

  “You think she’d kill to preserve her sister’s reputation?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  “So we’ve got motive and opportunity,” Chip said slowly. “All we need now is proof.”

  Sanchez drained the end of her drink and stood up to go. “True…and that’s always the tricky one.”

  *

  The Old Ford Inn was the most luxurious lodging house in Eastford. Its solid timber frontage opened directly onto the main square opposite the temple. It was where the senior officers were billeted, Captain LeCoup among them. The captain had a small suite to herself, including an audience room where she held briefings. Chip looked around at the cushioned chairs, the wine decanter and the remains of the extensive dinner that had been served in the room. All things considered, it was very unfair that LeCoup had not given her an award, rather than an ear bashing, for wrangling the posting to Eastford.

  Chip hitched herself up onto a windowsill. With the strong sunlight falling on the back of her neck, she could close her eyes and imagine it was summer. Ash O’Neil came to stand beside her, looking out across the square at the crisp blue sky behind the row of rooftops. All trace of snow had gone. In mid-March, the weather had improved dramatically. In the space of a day, it had gone from winter to spring and stayed there. With the beginning of April, the string of emergencies had dwindled to nothing, and for the first time since January, all four patrols were back in Eastford.

  “Now do you believe me that we’ve seen the last of winter?” Ash asked, teasing.

  “I believed you when you said it two weeks back. I just didn’t know how you could be so sure,” Chip replied without opening her eyes.

  “The fenbucks. They were moving to their summer grazing.” Ash’s voice was edging into self-parody. “Of course, the question is, how did they know it was more than a short thaw?”

  “Presumably, no one has ever told them, ‘Early winter, late spring.’ Which was what I’d been expecting. I’d thought we were going to be chasing around like a one-legged woman in an ass-kicking contest right up until the day we returned to Fort Krowe.”

  “And I had you marked down as an optimist.”

  The door of the room opened,
and Captain LeCoup came in, with Lieutenant Ritche at her shoulder. All four sergeants moved to adopt more formal positions, but LeCoup immediately indicated that they could stay as they were.

  “It’s just a recap session. I’ve got to produce a full report, and I want you to jog my memory. General impressions; things like that. You can be honest. I’ll censor out anything that should stay off the record.”

  Chip could not restrain a grin at the thought of LeCoup as a guardian of propriety. She stared down at the floor, judging it safest not to catch anyone else’s eye.

  LeCoup went on. “Eastern Division is having its annual officers’ briefing, starting tomorrow. Either the captain or lieutenant from each squadron will be here. They’ll be sorting out postings for the next year and filling each other in on items of note. They want the 23rd to have an input—anything anyone’s noticed that might be of use. So…what do we tell them?”

  The debate started slowly but soon warmed up. After two and a half months, there was a fair bit of information to pass on to the Eastern squadrons: unfinished business, worrying signs there had not been the time to pursue further, gossip from farmers that was worth checking again. It was nearly an hour before everyone was finished.

  LeCoup wound up the meeting. “Okay, I’ll try to knock all this into shape. One last thing before you go: By this evening, I want everyone to send me a full list of anything that’s lost, damaged or used up. I’m sure Central will want to try putting in a bill for it.”

  As Chip slipped down from the window ledge, LeCoup caught her eye. “Sergeant Coppelli, can you hang on a minute? I want a word.” Chip felt her stomach clench in reflex. However, the captain did not look angry, and once they were alone, LeCoup adopted a casual stance. “How have you been doing on your hunt for the murderer?”

  “Mixed luck,” Chip replied, relaxing. “I was talking to Lieutenant Sanchez from the Roadsend Militia a short while back. We’re pretty sure we know who did it, but proving it is a lot harder.”