by Lila Bowen
The flock seemed to thin, but he couldn’t see the people who should’ve been there. Fine. More food for him. Hopping around, he ate as many birds as he could hold, silencing their dying coughs. As he hunted around for something else to kill, the rest of the flock rose as one and swirled off into the clouds like a tornado, silent again but for the susurration of their wings.
Soon the only birds left were on the ground and broken. The giant bird was delighted—at least until a big, flappy human ran out, shouting at him in garbled words. He dropped the last prize and hopped away behind some boulders. A few moments later, Rhett Walker moseyed out with a painfully full and grumbling belly, reloading his pistol and counting heads.
Sam. Winifred. Dan. Earl.
The order in which he looked for his friends did not surprise him.
They were all there and not close to dying, although Dan held a blood-soaked kerchief to the side of his head. Someone had stoked the fire back up, throwing wild shadows on their scratched-up faces.
“You get pecked on, Dan?” Rhett asked, swallowing down a rancid belch.
“Not exactly.” Dan pulled the handkerchief away to show that the entire lobe of his right ear was missing.
“Well hellfire. Guess you can finally join the Club of Folks with Missing Parts.” Rhett tipped his hat, winked his remaining eye, and bowed sarcastically. As he leaned forward, the roiling in his belly surged violently up his gullet, and he fell to his knees as he vomited a torrent of filth onto the prairie dirt. It hurt more than a vomit usually did, and once he was able to open his eyes, he realized why.
In front of him and splattered over his knees were…things.
Not food.
Not the chewed-up, partially digested bodies of twenty black ravens.
Things.
Rhett wiped his mouth on his sleeve and picked one up as his friends edged closer.
“You okay?” Sam asked.
“He’s fine. What are those?” Dan said.
The thing in Rhett’s hand was a small ball of black wax stuck through with a feather and coated in slime. As he turned it over, he found a flake of gold, a chip of bone, and an elaborate seal pressed into the slick black goop.
Earl pointed. “BT. Bernard Trevisan. Them fancy letters. That’s his seal.”
“So he sent the birds,” Dan murmured. “But they weren’t actually birds.”
“Ravens,” Winifred added.
Rhett’s throat was all scraped up, and the slime around the object was burning his palm, so he dropped it and wiped his hand off on his ruined pants.
“That ain’t what I et,” he rasped.
Dan had picked up one of the wax balls and now carried it over to the wagon, crawling through the door and digging around within. He returned with the Captain’s grimoire and flipped through it by the light of the fire. He’d completely forgotten about his ear, seemed like, and the flesh was already scabbed over and nearly healed. That earlobe wasn’t growing back, and it gave serious ol’ Coyote Dan a lopsided look that made him slightly more likable.
“You look good with half an ear,” Rhett said, hunting around for something to eat to calm his still-angry belly. Winifred flipped open a saddlebag and handed him a sad-looking apple.
“Not a good sign,” Dan murmured, running his fingertips over the pages. “It had to be intentional. Marking me. We took no other injuries. They weren’t trying to hurt or kill us.”
“So?” Rhett asked, biting into his apple.
Dan looked up, annoyed. “So for whatever reason, Trevisan will know me. What the ravens did, they did on his command. He must be a dark shaman. Warlock. I’ve heard of those who command the dead, but never this kind of magic. Turning an object into a…”
“Messenger?” Winifred asked.
“Minion,” Earl muttered.
“But why birds?” Rhett chewed the apple, considering. “Why not folks with guns?”
Dan sighed heavily. “Birds travel fast and silently through the air. No one expects a flock to bring danger. Their large numbers confused us. They must be scouts for him.”
“Then why’d they go after you in particular?”
Meeting Rhett’s glare, Dan carefully set the book down. “Because while everyone else dove for cover, I sheltered my sister with my body. She couldn’t run, so I stayed in the open and didn’t move, even when I felt the creature biting through my ear. Perhaps if you’d been more heroic, you’d be missing more parts, too.” He gave an ingratiating smile. “Except not you, of course, Rhett. Because no one can sense that you’re a monster unless you wear the witch’s powder. You haven’t taken it lately, so it’s worn off. The ravens didn’t even trouble you, did they?”
“There was a bird tugging on my ear, but I shot it off.” Rhett scratched the back of his head and looked away. “Once I turned into a bird and started eating ’em, they didn’t really have a chance.”
“One went for my ear, but I turned into a donkey and ran.” Earl sniffed. “Never said I was a hero.”
“I was under the wagon. Hellfire, Winifred, I’m sorry I wasn’t looking out for you.” Sam sounded so sorrowful and hangdog that it just about broke Rhett’s heart.
Winifred gave him a kind smile. “Kill some fresh meat tomorrow, and we’ll call it even. I don’t need three men jumping on top of me. One was bad enough.”
That lightened the tension, and Earl put on his shirt and started setting the camp to rights. Sam, ever glad to be useful, made a torch out of a stick and a rag and pulled out his knife as he set out in the dark. That boy would come back with something to eat or die trying, Rhett figured. That left only the coyotes and himself sitting around the campfire, which made him itch inside his skin, even if Winifred had thus far never acted, in word or deed, as if she remembered their time in the wagon.
“There’s a page in here on warlocks and witches, but it doesn’t describe what happened tonight,” Dan said. He held out the book to Rhett, pointing to an old-fashioned-looking feller in a long black dress holding a dead cat by the tail. “This Trevisan is something different. But at least we know now that magic is involved. Might make him easier to kill.”
“Might make him harder to kill, too,” Rhett added.
“The point is, tonight changes things.”
“It sure as hell does. I’ll never look at a raven kindly again.”
Dan shook his head. “No, fool.” He pointed at his ear. “I can’t go into camp with you now. Earl said Trevisan wanted monsters, and the birds must be sent out to find them. They tried for Winifred’s and Earl’s ears, but they got mine. Anyone who works for Trevisan and sees a notched ear doesn’t even have to ask. They just drag you away to the camp.”
Rhett nodded slowly. “They marked you. They already know Earl. They wouldn’t want Sam. You protected Winifred from them. So you’re right. It’s just me.”
“Then why are you grinning like a fool?”
Rhett was, he realized, doing just that. “Because that’s how I always wanted it to be,” he said. “Just me in the railroad camp. Just me and Trevisan. Just the Shadow doing what the Shadow does best. Nobody else getting tortured or cut on or hurt.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Dan groaned.
“You always do, but it always ends up fine.”
Dan flicked his mangled ear with one hand and pointed at Rhett’s eye with the other.
“Does it, though?”
Rhett just grinned wider.
Sam brought back a fat rattlesnake, and they ate it with singed fingers before it was cooked all the way. Rhett’s belly felt like it had been scrubbed out with rocks, and he almost transformed into the great bird to take advantage of its iron stomach. He didn’t, though. The sinking feeling whenever he thought about what had happened tonight—that was shame. He hadn’t thought to protect anyone else; he’d simply gotten the hell away and taken his revenge as a brainless animal. It didn’t help that Earl had made the same choice. Rhett didn’t much respect the donkey-boy, outside of his end
uring stubbornness. No, he’d rather be like Sam, owning up to and repenting for his damn sins. Now he wished he’d brought Winifred a dead thing, too.
Dan ate his share and stood. Staring down at the pile of wax balls and feathers, his lips twitched. Finally, he picked one up, carried it away from the fire, picked up a big rock, and dropped it on the thing, turning his face away like it might explode.
Nothing exciting happened. He picked up the rock, and Rhett moseyed over to stare at the pile of dust, bone, gold, and ruined wax.
“We should destroy them all,” Dan said. “In case he can track them or reawaken them.” Scooping up the trash, he threw it in the fire, where it burned as readily as anything else.
With a nod, Rhett delivered the wax balls to Dan, who crushed them one by one with his rock until they were useless trash. As the pile of dross built, Rhett scooped up what he could and dropped it in the fire. The scent of burnt feathers rose, the fire turning a peculiar green and sparking mightily.
“Goddamn magic,” Rhett muttered.
“Goddamn magic indeed,” Dan said.
Soon all evidence of the ravens was gone, the wax and feathers burned up and Rhett’s belly almost back to normal. Even the gold went in the fire.
“Now that that’s done, you’re agreeing we’re close now, yes? Hence the birds?” Earl said, standing over the fire with his hands on his hips. He’d already taken off his boots and pants, which meant he was ready to sleep. It was something, how accustomed Rhett had gotten to the wee man’s peculiarities. But of course he couldn’t let everyone go to rest until he’d unleashed his cantankerousness on them.
“We’re close,” Dan agreed. “And even closer to the Lamartine Outpost of the Durango Rangers, which will be our first stop.”
Earl looked like his eyeballs might explode, and Dan held up a hand.
“You asked the Rangers for help, and we’re Rangers, and Captain Haskell’s got even more Rangers. In the best possible world, Haskell would shut down Trevisan right then, no questions asked.” He paused and met everyone’s eyes, one by one. “But this is not the best possible world, and we all know Haskell’s not going to help.”
“But the Captain told us to stop there, so we’re duty bound to do that,” Sam added.
“Right.” Dan gave Sam a nod of thanks. “And then we’ll head for the railroad. Once we can see the smoke, it’s probably best if we pick a hidden camp and send Rhett on alone so Trevisan and his men won’t be suspicious. I’d stick with the road, if I were Rhett, to make myself seem stupid and innocent.”
Rhett snorted. “If you were Rhett, then horses would walk on their hind legs and wear high collars and go to church on Sundays.”
“He’s right, Rhett. If you sneak up sideways, they’ll never trust you,” Sam said. “I, uh, worked in a railroad camp. In charge of a work crew. Not for long. It was awful. But they watch you careful, if they think you’re not dumb as a post.”
“Act dumb,” Rhett said. “I don’t know how that’s rightly possible, but I can try.”
“Not dumb, you great fool. Ignorant. I’m not dumb,” Earl said, turning as red as his shirt.
Rhett held in his laugh. “Says the man who isn’t wearing britches.”
Dan stepped between them. “Both of you are being foolish. Save your anger and energy for Trevisan.”
The moment boiled for a time before Rhett shrugged. “Well, considering I won’t punch a donkey, I might as well concede.”
“Well, and I don’t punch women,” Earl snapped.
Then Rhett dove for him, and they tussled on the ground like goddamn puppies, elbows and fists flying everywhere. Dan and Sam pulled them apart, and Rhett allowed himself one moment to savor the feeling of Sam’s chest tight against his back, the man’s breath against his cheek.
“It ain’t worth it, Rhett,” Sam said.
“That ain’t the point.”
Rhett relaxed, and Sam let him go. Dan likewise set Earl back down on the ground. Rhett drew himself up tall and straightened his shirt and eye kerchief. Earl spat in the fire and stormed off, muttering to himself in another language.
“Exciting night, ain’t it?” Rhett said. “Reckon I could take a piss.” He wandered away to do just that while he waited for his hands to stop shaking.
The fight hadn’t meant anything—Rhett didn’t really want to hurt Earl, and he knew Earl didn’t really want to hurt him, either. Not much, at least. They were just letting off steam, as fellers often did. And yet his body and feelings didn’t seem to agree on that topic. For a long while, he sat on a boulder, counting the heartbeats in the hollowed-out place where his eye used to be until his blood had slowed the hell down.
When he returned, putting unusual effort into his mosey, Sam had laid out his bedroll as usual and brought Rhett’s things as well, laying them out side by side. Rhett sat down and tipped his hat in thanks.
“Glad that damn Mueller feller is gone,” Sam said with a grin.
“Being attacked by ghost birds is nicer than talking to an asshole,” Rhett agreed.
When Sam lay back on his saddle with his hat over his eyes, Winifred dusted off her leg stump and made an inquiring-type noise at her brother. Dan helped her into her wagon and laid out his blanket on the other side of the fire. Earl, thankfully, had already turned into a donkey and was snoring peacefully. Rhett copied Sam, lying on his back and staring at the cloudy sky, considering.
“You asleep, Sam?” he whispered, all hopeful for a comforting-type conversation.
The only answer was gentle snores. Rhett was thinking about nudging Sam when another voice called to him from the darkness.
“I’m awake.”
His eye twitched toward the violet-blue wagon waiting in the scant moonlight like something out of a fairy story. A hand appeared through a hole in the canvas and beckoned.
“Are you now, coyote-girl?” he whispered.
Tomorrow, he’d head out on the road alone to face a warlock. Tonight, he’d take comfort where he could.
He got up, walked to the open wagon door, and crawled inside.
Chapter
16
It was a regular morning, if regular meant that everything was goddamn peculiar. Rhett woke up before everybody else, so disgusted with the funk of his body that he launched into bird form and flew lazy circles until he found a creek worth bathing in. He told himself it was because he would hopefully be meeting Trevisan’s railroad soon and didn’t want to smell like a whoremonger, but the look Winifred gave him when he returned with water droplets caught in his shorn hair was bemused and accusatory.
“Feel better, Rhett?” she asked.
“I felt fine to start out with,” he growled.
“Well, you smell just as fresh and clean as a daisy.”
He tossed a jackrabbit into her lap, where it landed with a sick and boneless thump. “Don’t say I never did nothin’ for you.” Before she could say anything else cunning, he left to see to the horses.
Sam was there, of course, his first smile as bright as the morning.
“Sleep well, Rhett?”
Guilty flashes of Winifred’s bare skin in dappled lantern light assaulted Rhett’s memory, but he just gave Sam the best smile he could muster. “I reckon I did. Wasn’t attacked by birds or feisty redheaded men, so it was an improvement.”
Just then, Rhett realized that Sam had been brushing Ragdoll to a shine, as much as an ugly appaloosa with a bottlebrush tail could shine. Ragdoll looked pretty pleased about it, at least, one leg cocked and ears perked up.
Rhett inclined his head to the currycomb in Sam’s hand. “You get bored? Or has she been nuzzling up to you, makin’ eyes?”
Sam blushed. “Oh, well, you know how it is. You’re going off on your own soon. Wanted you to present well. Can’t have you riding off on a dusty mare, can we?”
But Rhett noticed that Sam had groomed Puddin’ and Blue, too. The mule was asleep, his long lips hanging loose and his ears all cattywampus.
�
��That’s mighty thoughtful of you, Sam.”
“Wish I could go with you. You need somebody to have your back. Don’t know what you’ll be up against in that railroad camp. At least we’ll all be together when we ride up to the Ranger outpost today.”
Oh, shit. Rhett had entirely forgotten that part.
He was just fine with riding into servitude in a hard labor camp run by a mysterious warlock, but he was so against the concept of talking to Captain Eugene Haskell of the Lamartine Outpost of Durango Rangers that he’d mostly managed to forget that was part of their quest. Again. Perhaps Dan was right about how he had a habit of shutting down when he didn’t like what he was hearing.
“Maybe I could skip that part and just head on up to the railroad,” Rhett said. “We don’t really need the Rangers.”
Sam’s eyes went big and panicked. “We do, though, Rhett. You ride into another Ranger’s territory without setting up your bona fides, you’re likely to get court-martialed. Or shot. It’s part of the code. It’s how we keep from stepping on one another’s toes out in the wild.”
“Haskell’s not going to help us, Sam. It’s useless.”
Sam took to nervously currying Kachina’s flank. “I don’t reckon anybody ever thought Haskell would help you. Help us. But we’ve got to give him our report. Tell him we’re on the Captain’s business. Or else the Captain gets in trouble, see? And the Rangers need our Captain. He’s one of the good ones.”
Rhett gulped behind his kerchief. “Well, how close are we then?”
“Real close, as far as I can reckon,” Sam said. “Outpost is on this road, near Lamartine. We’re passing by it whether we want to or not.”
“Not,” Rhett muttered. “Definitely not.”
Sure enough, they found the Rangers just after noon. The outpost was hard to miss, as there was a weathered wooden sign out front, right where a dirt-rut trail ran off the main road.
“Durango Rangers, Lamartine Outpost,” Sam read, mightily slowly. “Haskell’s Rascals. Major Eugene Haskell presiding. Half doller per Injun scalp.”
“I like him already,” Winifred said.
