In the fading light of dusk, Zeke led them back to a point where the highway turned sharply to the right. There had once been a second road leading north, but it was now reduced to gravel and weeds. The fork was bordered by a deep culvert where crumbling cement formed a ledge. They could perch out of sight from the road but rise up and have a clear line of sight. They settled into position, then shared a cold meal of dried fruit and a sack of Carolina peanuts and a skin of well water. Soon the earth at their feet was littered with shells.
Kevin said, “As a kid I hated peanuts. Couldn’t even stand the smell. Abigail says it’s because the winter I turned three, the crops failed and we survived for the entire winter on peanut soup.”
“I remember my folks talking about that.” Caleb was seated next to Kevin with Zeke on his other side. “You’re twenty-five?”
“That’s right. You?”
“Just gone twenty-one. Me and Zeke both. I thought you were older.”
“I get that a lot.”
“How long have you been a deputy?”
“Eight years. I lied about my age. Abigail convinced Gus to take me on.”
“Is that a city thing, calling your mother by her first name?”
“No. It’s an Abigail thing.”
“Your mother is something. Where’s your pa?”
“Dead. Shot in the line of duty. I was nine. The sheriff was his partner. Gus helped raise me.”
Caleb started to ask something, then stayed quiet.
Kevin said, “Go ahead, speak your mind.”
“It’s none of my business. I was just wondering what the sheriff told you before he rode off.”
Kevin thought back to the old man’s parting words. “He reminded me of the three elements of proper law enforcement. Protect the innocent, uphold the law, and survive.”
“Do you have a girl?”
“I did. She broke off our engagement about a year back.” He looked around Caleb to where Zeke crouched with his head canted slightly. Listening. “What is it?”
In response, Zeke rose and slipped away.
Kevin had heard nothing. “How does he do that?”
“It’s his gift.”
“And those quail. Four birds without a snare or bow or gun?”
“I asked him once. He said he catches them napping.”
Zeke appeared on the road in front of them. “Here they come.”
Kevin hefted his weapons and scrambled from the culvert. He whispered to Caleb, “You know what to do?”
In reply, Caleb lifted the shotgun they’d taken from one of the strangers and cocked both hammers. “I’ll be ready.”
Kevin and Zeke slipped to opposite sides of the road. Kevin gripped his knife in one hand and a crudely fashioned club in the other. He breathed through his mouth, listening intently. A springtime night surrounded him. A nightjar chuckled, an owl hooted, and the leaves to his left rustled with a passing animal, probably a stoat. A few crickets sang. What little wind there was died off. The loudest sound was the hammering of his heart. The minutes dragged.
Kevin tried to tell himself it was just another takedown. He had been involved in dozens. Hundreds. Only this wasn’t an arrest, and he wasn’t a deputy. Nothing was the same.
His mind drummed with rising doubts. What was he doing, putting his life in the hands of two young men from a backcountry enclave? And for what? His mother was gone. Had he saved her from the mayor just so she’d be expelled from an enclave that didn’t value her, and when he wasn’t there to protect her? And what about him sitting here, hiding in the weeds? He was outside the law, and what he was about to do would put him utterly beyond . . .
His mind shot back to the immediate moment when Zeke hissed.
A few breaths, then he heard the soft plod of hooves. They came into view soon after, four on horseback. Which meant they felt safe enough to ride grouped together, no scout walking the trail, no outrider, nobody walking ahead to draw fire.
He heard one man grumble, “You said it was right up here.”
“Soon,” the man in the lead position said. “Hush your jawing.”
“You been saying the old homestead is round the next bend for two hours.”
“And now I’m telling you to shut up. I never did meet a man who loved to complain—”
The lead man’s comment was cut off when Caleb leapt from the culvert, screamed at the top of his lungs, and shot off the first barrel right in front of the horse’s face.
As they’d hoped, all four horses reared.
Zeke did as Kevin had instructed, going for the last man, keeping him from bolting. Kevin started for the senior Greer, then changed course when his son managed to clear his rifle from the saddle holster despite the rearing horse. The rifle was on Greer’s opposite side, so Kevin did the only thing he could think of. He slammed the knife into the bounty hunter’s thigh, all the way down to the hilt. The man screamed as high as a woman. Kevin used the knife to haul Greer out of the saddle. The knife came free as the bounty hunter tumbled to the road. Kevin slammed the club into his skull. Then he spun about, looking for his next target.
It was over.
Two of the riders were down and inert, with Zeke standing over them. The lead rider was the only one still in his saddle. The long streak of white in his beard and the scar across his forehead shone dark in the moonlight. He stared at the shotgun Caleb had jabbed in his gut and said, “It ain’t right, threatening a man with his own piece.”
“Get down,” Kevin said. “Slow and easy.”
The bounty hunter did as he was ordered. He glared at Kevin. “I know you.”
“And I know you,” Kevin said. “You’re Jack Greer.”
Greer shot a stream of tobacco juice at Kevin’s boot. “And I’m talking to a dead’un.”