She stared up at him with big eyes. There was something about her expression, the dirt-smeared face, and the defiant pose that made him smile. He noticed that the pistol was ready at her side. “You can stay here,” Tre said gently, “or you can leave with me. The decision is up to you.”
• • •
Lora looked up at the man on the horse. He was young—she could see that much—and heavily armed. One of the raiders, then. A merc would have killed her. “I’ll go with you.”
“Can you ride?”
Lora nodded. “Yes.”
“Get up behind me . . . and hang on tight.” The man extended a hand and Lora took it. Seconds later she was up on the horse with her arms wrapped around his waist. He gave the animal a nudge with his heels, and they rounded a corner and arrived out front. That was when a second man burst out through what had been the front door. Others were right behind him. “She isn’t here!” he proclaimed. “Voss took her south.”
Was the second man referring to Miss Silverton? Who else could it be? The connection made Lora feel better. If the raiders were trying to free Miss Silverton, then there was reason to trust them.
• • •
Tre was thinking about the arms that were wrapped around his waist when the radio attached to his weapons harness burped static. “This is Fade . . . A large group of mercs is approaching from the south! Get out of there.”
Crow was on his horse by then, and he had a radio as well. “Remember the plan . . . We’re pulling out!“
Tre brought the horse’s head around and kicked its ribs. The animal bolted down the driveway and between a scattering of bodies. Then they were past the gate and out on the highway. The plan was to scatter and meet at an assembly point near Freedom. Once the group was reunited, the original group members would lead the new recruits up into the mountains.
With that in mind, Tre urged his mount into a gallop. Then he turned off onto the first road he came to and headed west. As he glanced back over his shoulder, he saw that there were no signs of pursuit. And that was when he remembered that the girl was clad in nothing more than some underwear.
The horse slowed to a trot as Tre looked for a good place to pause. An old house loomed black on black off to the left. He pulled the horse around and rode that way. There were trees on both sides of the driveway. A bird, possibly an owl, took flight, and the sudden flutter of wings caused his heart to jump up into his throat.
Then, as they rounded the house, Tree pulled back on the reins. “Jump down,” he instructed.
• • •
Lora felt a stab of fear. There she was, all by herself, and nearly naked. What did the man have in mind? She slid to the ground, brought the pistol up, and was pointing it at him as he dismounted. The moonlight was on his face, and she could see the man’s smile as he removed the duster. “Here,” he said. “Put this on. We have a long way to go and you’ll freeze if you don’t.”
Lora accepted the coat and slipped it on. The garment was at least two sizes too big. She had to roll up the sleeves, and the bottom of it went all the way down to her ankles. It was scratchy, but the additional warmth was welcome. “My name is Tre,” the man said. “And you are?”
“Lora.”
“Well, Lora, I look forward to hearing your story, but that will have to wait. Here,” he said as he handed her a fistful of .45 cartridges. “Reload that six-shooter and keep it handy.”
A flurry of shots sounded in the distance, and both of them turned in that direction. “Let’s mount up,” Tre said. “We need to put more distance between us and the highway.”
• • •
The horse was overloaded, so Tre knew he couldn’t push the animal too hard. He alternated between a walk and a trot as the moon went down and the sky began to lighten in the east. Navigation was easy. All he had to do was stay close to the rolling hills on the west side of the valley and follow them north. He tried the radio twice, but there was no response. Either the rest of the bandits were too busy to answer or they were out of range.
Rather than ride into Freedom and what might be a trap, Tre chose to guide the horse up over a softly rounded hill. Once they were on the other side, he told Lora to get down, did likewise, and tied the horse to some scrub. Then, careful to stay low, he made his way up to the top of the rise, where he plopped down on his stomach.
As the sun rose above the eastern mountains, rays of light speared down into the valley. Tre brought the glasses to bear and scanned from left to right. Everything looked fine at first. A bit of ground mist still clung to the neatly organized farms, dairy cattle could be seen grazing in the surrounding fields, and slaves were headed out to bring them in.
But as Tre panned right, he saw what looked like a column of ants. And as they rode north on Highway 89, small groups turned left and right. The search was on, and three mercs were riding straight at him. “Can I look?”
Tre turned to look at Lora. She was right next to him. And now, in the light of day, he realized how pretty she was. Pretty and something else . . . Something he didn’t have words for. Whatever it was made him feel protective and awkward at the same time. Some of that must have been visible on his face, because she frowned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Tre said, and gave her the glasses. “Look straight ahead. Some of them are coming our way. We have two choices. We can ambush them or run. If we fight they could win. If we run they could catch us. Especially since we’re riding double and our horse is tired. Cast your vote.”
Lora glanced at him and then looked through the binoculars again. “They’ll catch us if we run. So let’s fight.”
Tre admired her clarity. The riders were closer now, and he didn’t need binoculars to see them. “I agree,” he said. “So here’s the plan . . . Take my hat, get on the horse, and wait for them to break the skyline. When they do, ride like hell. I’ll hide in the pile of rocks downslope from us. As the mercs go by, I’ll shoot them. With any luck, we’ll pick up a horse. If I fall, don’t come back. Keep riding.”
As Lora looked at him, Tre couldn’t help but notice her brown eyes. They were big and filled with intelligence—and something more. Something he had never seen before. “Be careful,” she said, and took his hat.
Then, before Tre could answer, she was gone. The duster flapped, nearly tripped her, and billowed as she mounted the horse. Then it was time for Tre to seek cover. He scooted back from the edge, stood, and ran downhill.
As Tre hurried to conceal himself behind the cluster of weather-smoothed boulders he hoped that whatever snakes lived in among them were late risers. Three round bursts, he thought. Hit the leaders first and work your way back.
Tre heard a shout as the riders topped the rise and saw Lora below. She turned, looked, and kicked the horse into motion. That produced a flurry of shots from the mercs, some of which kicked up geysers of dirt around her.
There were more shouts as the mercs came streaming down the slope. At that point all their attention was on Lora, so none of them were looking in Tre’s direction when he opened fire. The first burst was on target, and he had the satisfaction of seeing the lead merc thrown out of the saddle. But there was no time in which to savor the victory. The others were turning toward him by then. As they fired, a bullet hit the rock to Tre’s left and a rock chip stung his cheek.
Tre fired in return, saw the rider on the left tumble backward, and knew the third man was closing fast. So he was swinging right, trying to acquire the new target, when Lora charged in from the right. She was shouting to distract the merc and holding her pistol straight out in front of her. It fired three times, and at least one of the slugs hit the target, because he fell forward along his horse’s neck and seemed to rest there for a moment before slumping to the ground.
Lora, who was clearly a practiced rider, caught up with the dead man’s horse and brought it under control. Tre hurried out to take the reins as Lora went after the other mounts. One of them got away, but she returned with a handsome-lookin
g mare. “Nice work,” Tre said admiringly. “Let’s collect what we want and get out of here.”
It took five minutes to scavenge the mercs’ ammo, water, and food. Lora showed no interest in any of their clothes but took a pistol rig, which she wore bandolier-style. The second .45 went into a spacious pocket. Tre chose a rifle for her, which went into the scabbard under her left leg. Then, with both of them on newly acquired mounts, they led Tre’s horse north.
• • •
The area was home to spindly pine trees mixed with low-growing shrubs, some of which were turning gold as winter neared. There were fast-flowing brooks and streams too, but none the horses couldn’t cross, and Lora gloried in being free again. So much had happened in a short time. The fight with Mr. Oliver, followed by the escape from the hole, and this. Now she had a horse. Not to mention an arsenal of weapons. So she could leave whenever she wanted and Tre wouldn’t try to stop her. She knew that somehow. But more important, Lora knew she had no desire to part company with him. Not yet anyway.
So they rode in companionable silence until they came to Highway 34, where Tre told her about his home off to the west, a hideout he called the Tangle, a place where they could rest, wait for the hunt to die down, and decide what to do next. That sounded good. So they set off, constantly on the lookout for mercs and bandits, who would like nothing better than to nab a woman, three horses, and a small fortune in weapons.
• • •
Fortunately, luck was with them. A heavily guarded mule train passed them going the other way shortly after noon, and they passed a man and a woman pulling a cart uphill an hour later, but that was all. So thanks to the horses, a trip that typically took Tre at least a day and a half was completed before sundown. And that was good because he didn’t want to enter the Tangle after dark if he could avoid it. Odds were that the place was just as he had left it, but assumptions could be fatal.
After leaving the highway and checking to make sure that they weren’t being followed, Tre led Lora to the usual spot, where he paused to inspect the Tangle through his binoculars. There was no smoke, no movement, and no signs of habitation.
Thus encouraged, he rode down and directly into the barn, something he’d never had reason to do before. Part of the roof had fallen in, and there were places where siding had been ripped off for use in Tre’s tunnel, but enough of the structure remained to keep the horses hidden. “We’ll leave them saddled for the moment,” Tre said. “Then, if everything is okay, we’ll come back and take care of them. Bring your pistols, but leave everything else here.”
From there Tre led Lora down to the gently flowing creek. The rubber boots were still where he had left them. They were far too large for Lora but kept her feet dry as she followed him downstream to the waiting pool. The foliage around the tunnel entrance appeared to be undisturbed. So Tre pushed his way inside, crawled through the tunnel, and pushed the door open. His pistol was ready, but there was no need. It was pitch-black inside. Tre knew where the matches were and lit one. Then, as he had so many times before, he circled the room, lighting candles as he went.
• • •
Laura crawled into the room and stood. As Tre lit candles, various corners of the room were revealed, and by looking around, Lora could see various aspects of Tre’s character. Everything was neat and tidy. The bed that stood against one wall was made. A box filled with firewood sat next to the stove. Tre opened a door, and as he put a match to the waiting tinder, flames appeared.
Lora could see a kitchen sink as well, a homey reading nook, and shelves loaded with books. It was easy to imagine the snow flying outside while Tre lived other lives through the stories he read. Tre stood and looked at her. “I know it isn’t very fancy,” he said self-consciously, “but it’s safe. Or as safe as anything can be these days.”
“I think it’s beautiful,” Lora said honestly. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”
The pleasure Tre felt was plain to see, as was the boy inside the man, and that was very endearing. “I’ll tell you what,” Tre said as he put a kettle of water on to boil. “I’ll go out and take care of the horses. Meanwhile, if you want to, feel free to take a bath.”
That was when Lora noticed the tub. She pointed. “How did you get that in here?”
“It was here when I moved in,” Tre answered. “See the lever? Pump that to bring water up from the pool. But not too much, unless you like cold baths. Then, once it starts to boil, add all the water from the kettle.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Lora said appreciatively. She was filthy and well aware of how she smelled.
“You can find clean clothes in the back,” Tre said. “They’ll be too large, but maybe you can cut them down.”
“And the commode?”
“It works,” Tre said proudly. “See the bucket of water? Pour that in the tank after you flush. Then it will be ready for next time.”
With that, Lora was left to her own devices. She pumped some water into the tub, then checked the kettle, but saw that the water hadn’t begun to boil yet. So she went to the back of the room, chose some clothes, and took them over to a neatly organized worktable. With scissors in hand, Lora was snipping away when she heard a plaintive meow and looked down to see a black-and-white cat. “What’s your name?” she inquired as she scratched the animal behind the ears. He purred loudly—and Lora smiled.
• • •
Having taken care of the horses, Tre returned to the Tangle. The tack was hidden under the floor of the barn, but he brought everything else with him. It was dark by then, but an occasional blip from a squeeze light was enough to find his way. He pushed the gear up the tunnel in front of him and took a moment to announce his presence before entering the basement. “I’m back . . . Is it okay to come in?”
“Yes,” Lora answered. “I had a wonderful bath, thanks to you.”
Tre pushed the gear into the room and stood. The sleeves were rolled up on the shirt Lora had chosen to wear, and it was tied at the waist. A pair of baggy jeans completed the outfit. He saw that the legs had been shortened and rolled up as well. The slippers were too big for her. She did a turn. “So what do you think? Am I ready for the ball?”
Tre laughed. He’d never been anywhere near a ball, but had read about them in books. “You look beautiful.” Then, fearful that she would think he was coming on to her, he rephrased it. “I mean you look good,” he said awkwardly.
Lora laughed. “Don’t worry, Tre . . . Girls like compliments. Even if they’re exaggerated.”
Tre nodded soberly. Dealing with girls, especially this girl, was scary business. He didn’t want to screw up. But she was beautiful. And he wanted to stare. “I’ll make dinner,” he said. “Then we can talk.”
• • •
Dinner consisted of canned stew for them and condensed milk for Ninja. For dessert Tre made drinks from his hoard of Nestlé hot cocoa mix. Simple though the meal was, Lora knew it was one she would never forget.
Then, with Ninja on her lap and Tre listening intently, Lora told the entire story, starting with her departure from the Sanctuary and ending with the fight in the hole. There was only one chair, so they were using the bed as a couch. She cried at times, especially when it came to her father’s death, and Tre put an arm around her.
Then it was his turn, and as Lora listened to the matter-of-fact way that he described his mother’s death and everything that followed, she felt the pain he refused to show. Later, when he described the loss of his finger, she kissed the injured hand.
Finally, when all the stories had been told, they lay side by side and Tre fell asleep. Lora listened to him breathe, felt Ninja settle into the canyon between them, and felt thankful to be alive. Somehow, in a way she’d never felt before, Lora was home.
Chapter Fourteen
Freedom, Wyoming, USA
The Deacon screamed as the hot iron touched his open wound. He was hanging upside down in the barn where Voss’s personal horses, tack, and wagons were kept. Voss was seate
d on a chair not five feet away. The tip of his cigar glowed as he drew on it. The expedition had been costly but qualified as a success. Thanks to Afton’s militia and his artillery, Hashi had been forced to flee south with her tail between her legs. And, had Voss been able to field all his mercenaries, he might have been able to capture some of her windmills. So there was reason to celebrate. Or should have been.
Unfortunately, he had returned to find that one of his canneries had been looted and his home had been attacked—not for the purpose of stealing his wealth, because there had been no attempt to open the strong room in the basement, but in order to free Sara. And why? Because her brother was a bandit—that was why. The same bandit who had attacked one of his convoys and captured a garbage mine. A man named Crow.
Crow and his gang had a hideout up in the mountains. Everyone agreed on that. But where? Efforts to find the place had been fruitless. But now, with a bona fide gang member hanging upside down in front of him, Voss stood a good chance of finding out. The thought pleased him, and he blew a smoke ring to celebrate. “So,” he said. “You’re going to die, Deacon . . . You know that. But how long will it take? A day? A week? It’s up to you.”
• • •
Two days after arriving in the Tangle, they left. Tre figured that the worst of the manhunt was over by then. Plus there was work to do if the group wanted to consolidate the gains made over the last few weeks.
And Lora had reason to see Crow too. Having been forced to reveal the Sanctuary’s location to Voss, she feared what would happen next. Her first impulse had been to head north to warn the keepers. But Tre opposed that course of action, pointing out that the chances of getting there alone approached zero.
Lora had to admit that Tre was right but was worried that Voss would send mercenaries north at any moment. And what if Crow wasn’t interested? Then she would have to go for it, and the sooner, the better. Winter was coming, and that would make travel more difficult.
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