“Your god as my witness, yes.” Colton pales, holding his crossbow.
“Why? To watch her die with the rest of us?”
“Lionel, you know me better than—”
“Answer the damn question.” Tracker’s words harbor a venomous edge. “Did you bring her back here to offer her to Hyperion?”
“Unholy hell no.” Colton’s jaw tightens. “She came back on her own free will. I know you hate me for Tobar. Hell, I hate myself for what happened that night to your family, but look around you. The gates. The crowd full of bloodlust. A pyre. You and I both know what happens next. Only unlike Tobar, this time, the entire world will be listening as Rondo is purified.”
I see the rifle quiver in Tracker’s strong hands and his nostrils flare.
“Look me in the eyes, Lionel, and tell me you’re going to stand by and let Hyperion take these people. We couldn’t prevent Tobar’s purification, but we can do something about Rondo.” His eyes fall on Sadie and me, softening. “For them. For Matty. Even for Henny. All I’m asking for is a second chance. Nothing more. Nothing less. I’ll accept if you won’t ever trust me again, but your Frost Flea there, Rondo’s last remaining rustler, she still believes in you, and her family.”
Tracker lowers the rifle a few inches, one brown eye turning toward me. His brow furrows. A curt nod and he turns from Colton.
“We have a job to do, Rags.”
I nod.
“So what’s the plan?” Jericho leans against an overturned pew. “We can’t fight them all. Not like this.”
“We run,” Tracker says as if it’s really that easy.
“How though?” Frank moves closer to Sadie. “There’s Kingdom Corps everywhere and there’s no way we’ll outrun their bullets. Not with those gates being constructed.”
My eyes drift to the floor, struggling to find a way out. There are too many of them and more on the way. And they’ll never make it over the gates. Not with Sadie being pregnant. They’ll all be shot dead in seconds.
“Maybe I can help.” Colton steps forward and takes hold of the brass candleholder in Jericho’s hands. For a moment, I see him squint, as if looking at something in the preacher’s eyes.
Jericho curls his lip into a half-hearted snarl but doesn’t back away.
“Okay, preacher man.” His lip curls into a smirk as if he knows something we don’t. “You’re a sly one. I know you’ve got one more impossible escape in you. Make this one count.”
Jericho offers a slow, but assertive nod.
Colton lets go of the candleholder and motions Frank to him. “And you, big guy with the beard. This is your first war, so put those mining skills to good use and take that candleholder over there. Hard and fast, right between the helmet and the cuff of their jackets, from the back like swinging a pick axe. Preacher man will show you how it’s done.”
Frank collects the candleholder and takes his place beside Jericho.
For a moment I stare. Jericho’s never murdered anyone before. But something tells me from the look in his eyes that he’s been keeping something from us. If I look closely enough, I see him favor his right leg, the one with a limp in it as if reliving an old memory. I get the feeling he wasn’t wounded standing behind a pulpit or riding a horse . . .
“Okay.” Colton paces back and forth. He turns his green eyes on Sadie and old farmer Addison. “You two are on uniform duty. We’ll bring them down, you strip their uniforms. Take everything, dress quickly. Lionel knows how the K. C. operates their walkie talkies. Codes didn’t change. He can lead you to safety but you have to be fast.”
He pauses in front of me. “As for you, Frost Flea. Feeling up to putting on a hell of a show for the Kingdom?”
A shiver creeps through me and I cower back a half step. A show. As in go out there and face the entire town, likely dying by their hands.
“She will do no such thing.” Tracker jumps to my defense. “She’s needed with us.”
That tiny little part of me cheers and wants to run to him. My family. They need me to help them escape. Together. As a family. Someone has to help Tracker cover them just in case the K. C. wises up that these people aren’t part of their ranks.
Colton fights back a scowl at the dark-skinned man and faces me. The crossbow leans against a pew. He places a hand on my shoulder and looks me straight in the eyes. With an almost sad smile, he brings the other hand up, catching several strands of mahogany hair and draping them back behind my ear as if they’re fine silk. His thumb brushes over my right cheek, tracing the thin, bladed scar angling across the flesh in a soft, almost loving motion.
“You’re scared, but that’s okay. I’m scared too. But ask yourself this, if you could send one message to Hyperion. One message to the Kingdom. What would it be? This is your moment, Frost Flea. Your chance to change the world. Just like when you stood up to Henny the other day. If you had that chance, this one opportunity, wouldn’t you take it?”
“Rags.” Tracker offers up a warning glare.
I avert my eyes. One message. A message the entire Kingdom will hear. I look to my family. They’ll need time. Time to escape. Time I can provide.
Colton’s eyes stare into mine, offering reassurance that I’m not facing this alone this time. That I can trust him. “One chance to help Henny and me take down the son of a bitch who stole that rifle and killed Matthew.”
“I’ll go.” They need time. I need to know the truth.
“Rags, no you can’t.” Sadie clutches her shawl, horrified eyes wide open.
“I don’t have a choice, Mom.” I glance at her and close my eyes, drawing a shaky breath as Colton removes his hand from my shoulder. “I can buy us some time. Time for you all to escape Rondo.”
“But they’ll kill you out there.” Frank shakes his head.
A forced smile tugs at my lips and I struggle to calm my trembling voice. “It’ll be okay. I’m not scared.”
“Rags,” Tracker steps forward and places a calloused hand on my shoulder, “if you go out there, alone, this is one fight you may not return from. I will not let you do this on your own.”
“Me neither.” Jericho plants the candleholder against the wooden floor and stands taller. “If we’re going to send a message to the Kingdom, let’s do it right.”
“I can think of no one better than our dear Rags to carry our message.” Addison sits atop an overturned pew, an elbow on his thin knees and chin resting in his hand like we’re all acting like children. Pre-Yellowstone wisdom sparkles in his gray eyes as he slowly stands up and hobbles around the barricade.
“But she’s just a child—” Both Jericho and Tracker glare at the old man who pays them no mind. Addison reaches an old, gnarled hand up and touches my shoulder. Staring into the old man’s gray eyes offers some small comfort and I catch a brief, knowing wink from his left eye.
It will be okay, the gesture says.
“Hyperion is a dangerous man, young one. Very dangerous indeed. But even his strongest fences cannot hold the young and wild if they do not wish to be contained. Rondo may be lost, but,”—he points a bony finger at my chest—“deep down inside, its spirit burns bright and strong like a spark in the snowfield. That is one thing, young one, which Hyperion cannot take away.”
There is no hesitation in his words. No second-guessing. Only warmth and certainty from the old, wise farmer that everything will be okay. The words stick with me, igniting something deep within and for a moment, I see him look to Jericho. The glance seems to mean something to the preacher and he steps forward and places a hand on my other shoulder.
“I cannot support this in good conscience, Rags.” His words stay as strong as the old farmer. “But I agree with Addison. I cannot stop you from going out there and facing the Kingdom and Rondo, but know that if you choose to, we will back you up and help in any way we can.”
Tracker frowns and looks down at the Damascus for several seconds. A soft sigh and he nods. “A half hour, Rags. Fight them for a half hour then get out
by any means necessary. Jericho and I will work together to destroy Rondo during that time while Frank, Sadie, and Addison flee for the forest. We’ll regroup in the gully and then travel south.”
I nod, feeling sick to my stomach. A half hour is a long time to fight.
“Didn’t you say there were people, supporters of Tobar,” Jericho says. “People fighting the Kingdom. People just like us. If we find them, we might be able to join up with them and join their cause against Hyperion.”
“Finding them won’t be easy.” Tracker shakes his head. “It’s too risky.”
“We’ll find them,” Jericho assures him. “If we go south, we can reach Lexicon. I know people there who can help us.”
Lexicon? I give him a confused look. Colton said Jericho reminded him of someone who roamed that area . . . I wonder.
“Lexicon?” Even Tracker seems surprised by the word. “Isn’t that where Hyperion—”
“Screw Hyperion.” Jericho curls his lip into a snarl. “He’s one man and I’m not afraid of him. Not anymore. We’ll go to Lexicon as a group. From there we’ll plan our next moves.”
Addison nods. “Lexicon is a wise choice. We will make the journey together.”
“Then it’s agreed.” Tracker nods. “Everyone know what we’re doing?”
I nod.
Colton places one hand on the door handle. “Okay, big guy and preacher man. Take your positions. Both sides of the door. Hard and fast after I close the door. Mom-to-be and Grandpa, be ready to move. Lionel will help you drag them into the shadows. Frost Flea,”—he meets my eyes—“you ready to raise a little hell?”
Chapter Forty-Four
Colton ruffles his hair and swings his jacket open, dragging one leg and looking like he’s just survived one hell of a brawl. With a shrill whistle, he sweeps the church door open and clings to it.
“You two idiots,” his voice cuts to the twin guards holding post on the porch. “A little help in here.”
Both turn toward him. Jericho nods and I make my move, running up to the pulpit and bracing both legs against the floor, splay-legged and crouched as if ready to attack. Struggling to calm my racing pulse, I watch both K. C. soldiers bolt through the doors, carbines raised.
“What’s going on in he—” A loud ringing crash rebounds throughout the entire church. He lands with a sickening thud against the floorboards.
“What the—” The second goes down as Frank swings the candleholder, nailing him between the base of his helmet and his uniform jacket collar. Colton slams the door shut as Tracker grabs both guards and drags them into the shadows.
I flinch at the brutality but hold my stance.
“Good. Ready for round two.” Colton quickly counts us and leans back outside. “I need a little more help in here. You two, by the fence. In here.”
“What’s the problem?” Another two step through the doorway. I offer a devious smirk and grasp both pews with a snort.
“You—” Two more swift cracks follow and they both go down. Jericho breathes heavily and gives Frank a nod. Tracker moves faster, dragging them into the same corner as the others.
“Need one more.” Colton steps outside, dragging both legs and putting on his best show. “Damn wild rustlers. You there. Yes, you with the donkey. A little help in here.”
A tall soldier bolts through the door and nearly trips over the carpet. With a loud crash the door slams shut. Jericho shows no mercy and brings the candleholder down. The soldier goes still.
“Move, move, move.” Colton braces his back against the door with a glance over his shoulder. “They’re coming for you guys.”
I run to help him hold the door shut as the others quickly sort through the uniforms. Sadie wrinkles her nose as she pulls on a uniform two sizes too big for her. Frank helps her into the jacket and assists her in tying the belt in place to keep the baggy pants up before handing her a helmet with a loving nod.
In mere minutes my family goes from captives in the church to a mismatched group of Kingdom Corps soldiers. Tracker nods and holds the Damascus, watching as the others take up arms. Seeing Sadie with a carbine, her hands trembling as if not quite sure what to do with the heavy weapon makes me want to run up to her and tell her it will be okay but I can’t. Not right now. Instead, I offer a halfhearted smile and turn to Colton.
“Take the donkey,” Colton says. “If anyone asks, you’re taking it back to Henny’s encampment. Use it to escape once you’re out of the way. Anyone tries to stop you, Lionel, you know the codes. Do not stop for anyone or anything. All right, Frost Flea, let’s do this.”
He picks up the rope. I hold out my wrists and try not to shiver as he twists the rope around them and draws it taut. With a reassuring smirk, he offers the rope to Tracker. Sadie and Frank take up stance on both sides of me, carbines raised. Jericho and Addison bring up the rear. Tracker takes the lead alongside Colton and the church doors swing open.
Together we step into the gray dawn and bitter cold of Witherwood Lane. Several soldiers look up, casting curious glances that fade just as quickly. Colton snarls at them and puts on his best effort to look like five soldiers were necessary to capture me. I cast a frantic look around, seeing Nigel and Tamblin missing.
Old Jacobus is still around, though. He brays and stomps his hooves, swishing his wispy tail and pulling on the livestock gate he’s tethered to.
I look ahead to the fiery square glowing like the gaping maw of Hell. Two lines of soldiers, six on each side approach in uniformed sync. Sadie shivers beside me, her carbine trembling in her hands.
Hold it together, I wish I could comfort her. But I can’t. To do so will mean death to us all. Instead, I keep my eyes fixed ahead, trying to look the face of terror and Kingdom spite.
The cold wind toys with my long, tangled mahogany hair. Snow flurries dance across my buckskin jacket. Colton takes the lead, raising his right hand in a swift salute to the approaching soldiers and holding the crossbow with the left.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Colton growls at the soldiers.
“We’re to bring the heathens from the church to the square for the purification, sir,” the first in the line states and returns the salute.
Colton frowns and runs a hand through his shaggy ginger hair as if the men are inconveniencing him. “Aye, fully aware of that one, private, and good job, but this one’s been giving me the most trouble of the lot so I thought she could go first. You know, Rondo’s rustler and all.”
“Our orders are to bring the entire group together, sir.”
“Who gave you those orders?” Colton gestures to me. “Because my orders are to bring the rustler, alone, first.”
“Hunter Lawrence, sir.”
“Lawrence, eh?” Colton pretends to ponder something. “Well my orders came from Second-in-Command, Henrick Oreson and last time I checked, he outranked Lawrence. Or do you question the luresman’s knowledge of military rank and protocol?”
The soldier hesitates and looks down at the snow. “No sir. Second-in-Command Oreson’s orders come first.”
“I thought so.” Colton puffs up his chest and smirks. “Now, if you’ll kindly help me here, sirs, these fine soldiers with me have to dispose of that there donkey for me, Henny’s orders as well, of course and I could really use an escort for this one. You feeling up to it?”
Their faceless helmets look upon our group. Long seconds pass and I sense Frank grip his carbine tighter.
“Sir, yes sir.” The leader nods and waves us closer. “An honor, sir.”
“All righty.” Colton tosses my rope to them and looks back at Tracker. “As for you lot, you have your orders. Make good on that donkey for me would you. Miserable creature isn’t even fit for a sacrifice.”
Tracker salutes and turns to face the rest of my family for what could very well be the last time I see them alive. With a nod, he orders them and I see Jericho trot out front to untie Jacobus. The donkey fusses and pins his ears back, nearly dragging the poor preacher off-ba
lance before Addison reaches over and seizes the old donkey’s rope halter.
Sadie glances back, hesitating for a moment before she turns to help with the irritated donkey.
Good luck and Godspeed, guys. The rope nearly yanks me off my feet as the soldiers take up the slack and pull me toward them. I brace my deer-hide boots against the ice but they slide and do little to prevent me from being dragged through Witherwood Lane.
A carbine jabs between my shoulder blades and I crane my head back in defiance, unable to see my family anymore. Gritting my teeth and trying to will myself forward makes every step feel like I’m wading through a nightmare. It’s very real though—all of it is. The cold. The fierce light radiating from the molten pyre erected in the square.
I work the bone roses from my pocket and wrap my fingers around them, keeping a tight grip on them.
The shouts and jeers from the crowd of Rondo’s people, all dancing and rejoicing around it like the Kingdom belongs here and they to the Kingdom, flood the air. Children pick up more stones as the soldiers lead me through newly built, blood-red livestock gates separating Witherwood Lane from the square.
It gives a rusty shriek and carves a broad line through the snow and ice. Keeping my head held high I step across it. There’s no going back now. Thirty minutes—a half hour to survive and escape. I can do this.
Nigel shrieks and goes up on his haunches at the entrance to Rondo’s slums. They have him tethered with a double-knotted rope to a metal lamppost by a split-level house’s wooden porch. His sorrel-and-white splashed legs sweep across the ice as he bumps against Tamblin. He flattens his ears and bares his teeth, as if he knows what the wooden table near the pyre is for.
A strong hand slams against my shoulders. My legs founder on an icy patch, going two separate ways. I hit the ground at an angle, rolling onto my side. The fire’s heat sears my back.
The crowd cheers. Children hold stones and gravel in their tiny hands, prepared to throw them. Women sneer and clutch their tattered clothes, dancing behind the children. The men spit and show their fangs. The strong odor of rust tints the air, their gaunt faces catching the shadows. Their eyes glint in the firelight.
The Bone Roses Page 26
