Chapter 11

Keeping an eye on the schoolteacher was easy. She was still helping Dr. Elm with Hector when Caleb and Jimmy got back to the store. Caleb put Jimmy on a stool in an out-of-the-way corner with firm orders to stay—and left Ernst to keep an eye on him—and climbed the stairs again, navigating around people bustling to and fro on errands for the doctor or just trying to be nosy.

Actually getting her alone proved to be a bit more difficult. Hector’s room was more crowded than was healthy, and Caleb arrived in time to see Ellen evict everyone with a no-nonsense glare and more than a few terse words. Obviously, she had recovered some of her nerve. Caleb pressed against the wall to avoid being trampled until he was the only one left, and then she fixed her glare on him, too.

“He’s the same as he was, and you can’t do anything, so out!”

“I actually came to talk to you, if you have a moment.”

Wiping her hands on her apron—and when had that appeared?—she stepped out of the room onto the top step. “Will it take long? I’m still helping Dr. Elm with the stitching.”

Caleb sighed, running a hand over his face. “I . . . It might. When you’re done, then? I’ll wait downstairs.”

She smiled, though it was obviously forced. Bless the girl, she was trying. “Of course. You should get some coffee, Agent Marcus. You look dead on your feet.”

He felt dead on his feet, now that she mentioned it. He couldn’t remember the last meal he’d had, let alone sleep.

Still instructing Jimmy to stay inside the store, Caleb found a chair and dragged it to the walk outside. He found a safe nook and sat, leaning the chair back on two legs and tugging his hat down over his eyes. With the entire town coming and going, it was surely safe to rest his eyes for just a moment.

The sunrise was beautiful, in shades of pale pink and a hint of the night’s lingering violet. “Red sun at morning, sailors take warning. . . .” There was no red sun, though. No rain on the horizon. Just another day dawning hot and dry.

He wasn’t even aware that he was dreaming until the Indian woman walked out of the doorway next to him, glancing about the town curiously. Her boots passed over the broken glass on the sidewalk without disturbing a single shard, and then all sound faded away, leaving the two of them alone in the morning’s first light.

“You again?”

She gave him a smile, pointing toward the mountains.

“No, not this time. I don’t know how you’re doing this, but you either tell me what you want, or go away and leave me in peace.”

She pointed again, her smile fading into an insistent frown.

Caleb stood, and the chair beneath him vanished as if it had never been there. “No. I’ve had enough of your folk for the time being. Lacking in hospitality, I must say.”

A look of frustration crossed her lovely face, and she seemed to be debating something. Finally, she held her hand out to him, asking him with a pleading look to take it.

“You’re not going to leave me alone, are you? Every time I close my eyes, you’re going to come walking into my dreams until I do what you want.”

She stepped closer, offering both hands now, silently begging him to take them.

With a resigned sigh, Caleb placed his hands in hers.

They were in the mountains; that much was clear. Taking his hand, she led him down a rocky path that meandered aimlessly through the tall trees. She had no regard for the darkness of the night, save to smile each time she heard a night bird call.

As the trail headed steadily upward, Caleb climbed beside her, realizing belatedly that all his aches and pains had faded. He felt like he could climb the entire mountain, and the one beyond that as well. She tugged at his hand as he lagged behind in his reverie, and he walked faster to catch up.

“Where are you taking me?” She didn’t answer, which was no more than he’d expected. “What is so important?”

She turned and pressed a finger to her lips, imploring him to be silent, and walked on.

It felt like they walked for hours, wending their way up the mountain, climbing through rocky crags and twisted gnarled pines by the end. Caleb could tell they were nearing their destination, because she motioned for him to stay and crept ahead, disappearing from view for some time.

When she returned, she again motioned for him to be silent, her grim face telling him how serious this was. Then she led him forward.

They crouched at the top of a rocky outcropping looking down into a vast chasm in the mountainside. A few hardy bushes clung to the steep sides, but for the most part it was a graveyard of fallen, shattered boulders, a river of jagged stone flowing through a deep canyon.

Nothing stirred. No birds flew overhead; no agile mountain goats braved the peaks. It was deathly still.

The woman reached a hand out, passing it lightly over Caleb’s scarred eye. The touch was gentle, almost a lover’s caress, and when she was done, she pointed again into the rocky abyss.

A giant slumbered there. He had not been there only moments before, but he was there now. Made of the same rock as the chasm itself, the behemoth slumbered at the bottom of the canyon, cradled as tenderly as any child. His face was formed of chiseled boulders, hard planes of granite and shale. The full moon caught crystals of quartz on his surface, and he sparkled. His craggy hands could have crushed an entire house with little effort, and the entire mountain vibrated with the force of his breathing.

Sleepily, the massive creature shifted its shoulders, barely moving at all, and farther down the mountain, a rocky avalanche crushed all that lay before it.

Oh, how Caleb wanted to ask her what the giant was, but he suddenly understood the danger. God forbid that thing should wake and find them there.

The woman rested her hand on his arm, her eyes asking if he’d seen enough. He nodded, and they were suddenly gone from that place, returned to the thick of the forest.

“What the hell was that thing?”

Once again, she did not answer, but motioned him to follow. Their trek this time was faster, and she stopped them in a thicket of dense foliage. Pushing one branch aside, she pointed ahead.

This time, Caleb knew just where he was. They looked down on the nullstone mine, and he could even see the small rise where he’d watched them the night before. There was no one visible, but the sounds of picks on stone were loud in this strange dream stillness, sharp enough to hurt his ears and make his teeth ache in his head. Ghostly miners, going about their tasks unseen.

Tink-tink-TINK! On and on it went, even when he pressed his hands over his ears. Tink-tink-TINK! TINK-TINK-TINK!

He felt it before he heard it, rising up through the soles of his feet, shuddering through his hips into his chest, where his heart went cold with a deep primal terror. And when the roar reached them, the trees themselves bent nearly double in fear. The great rock giant was bellowing in pain.

High above them, near the cloud-covered peak, the mountain was moving. Great sheets of shale and granite were shifting, sliding, gathering momentum as they plunged down.

“We have to run! Go, go!” He tugged at his companion, urging her to run, but she only looked at him with sad eyes. And he knew there was nowhere they could hide. “What do we do? We have to do something!”

The sharp sting on his face brought him awake with a startled yell, and he grabbed at the delicate wrist before he realized who it belonged to. Ellen Sinclair froze, eyes wide, the alcohol-soaked cloth in her hand poised just in front of his face. The people standing on the sidewalk all stared at him, and more were peering from inside the store, their attention drawn by his wild shout.

His heart gradually resumed a normal pace as he realized that there were no great waves of rock about to come crashing down on his head. Belatedly, he released his bruising grip on Ellen’s wrist, mumbling an apology.

“Nonsense.” As if he’d never moved, she leaned close again, dabbing at his face with the pungent swab. “I wanted to see to these scratches on your face, but you were sleeping so deeply. . . .”

The colors of sunrise were gone, replaced by the harsh and glaring light of day. “How long did I sleep?”

“Not more than an hour.” The cuts stung despite her efforts to be gentle, but he didn’t say a word. He’d nearly forgotten they were there. She paused at his scar, looking at it thoughtfully. “Does it impair your vision any?”

“No.”

She made a noise of professional interest. “You were lucky, then.”

He could have debated that with her, but let it pass. “Do you have time to talk now? Privately?”

She raised a curious brow, but nodded. “I suppose so.”

Reaching his limit for being coddled, Caleb gently pushed her hands away and stood. “The saloon, then? Bring Teddy, too.”

Inside the store, the destruction had largely been cleared up. Perhaps everything wasn’t as neat and tidy as Hector might have liked it, but the volunteers had made great headway. Jimmy was still sitting on his stool in the back corner, eyeing a jar of peppermints thoughtfully. Caleb guessed they had about another five minutes before the boy grew bored enough to start pocketing the sweets.

“Jimmy! Ernst! March!” Every adult in the place flinched at his sharp commands, but both the boy and the familiar hopped to without protest. More than one person watched in amazement as the town hooligan obediently fell into line behind the Peacemaker.

At the doorway, Caleb hesitated and looked to the boy at his heel. “We’re going to the tavern. Quickly, with no stops. And if I tell you to run, you move like your rump is on fire, and you don’t look back, understand?”

Jimmy’s eyes went wide. “You really think I’ll need ta?”

Caleb shrugged, clapping him on the shoulder. “Consider it good practice, just in case.”

Truthfully, he didn’t believe that Warner’s men would be back for witnesses. Not yet. But despite the fact that he’d ordered Jimmy to stay silent, secrets had a way of getting around in a small town. Schmidt already knew about Ellen Sinclair, and it was only a matter of time before they found out about Jimmy. There was no way they could leave two people behind who might testify.

He kept his hand on Jimmy’s shoulder as they walked down the street, Ernst hopping escort on the other side. He could feel the boy’s breath coming fast, see the pulse thudding in his neck. The kid was scared to death, and yet he kept walking calmly, even calling hellos to a few people who greeted them.

The tavern was one hundred paces away. Sixty. Thirty. Ten. And then they were inside, the doors flapping behind them. Caleb grinned down at Jimmy. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Teddy and Ellen were waiting already, and the bartender set a sarsaparilla out for Jimmy, and lemonade for Caleb when he refused a stiffer drink. “It’s morning, Teddy, good Lord.”

“After the night ye’ve had, I thought ye might deserve it.”

Ernst flopped down on the bar with an exhausted whuff of breath, lapping at the whiskey Caleb had turned down.

The lemonade tasted better than any liquor he could remember, and he realized how truly parched he’d been. He drained the glass in a few long gulps, and Teddy filled it up again.

“What did you want to speak about, Agent Marcus?” Ellen had managed to freshen up, her hair tidied and dirty apron discarded. It was hard to tell she’d been awake most of the night, as well, but she clasped her hands together so tightly her knuckles were white.

Caleb turned his glass in his hands, watching the beads of sweat run down over his fingers. “You witnessed something terrible last night, Miss Sinclair, but you weren’t the only one.”

Jimmy clambered up on the stool beside him, and Caleb ruffled his hair.

“Oh, no . . . Jimmy?” Ellen covered her mouth in dismay. “Did they see you?”

The boy shook his head. “No, Miss Sinclair. I was real careful.”

Teddy frowned. “They saw Ellen. They’ll come back for her.”

Caleb nodded his agreement. “Or worse, they’ll have Schmidt deal with it from afar. That’s why I want Ellen and Jimmy both to stay in this building, away from the windows, until I get back.”

“Back?”

“Just where are you going?”

Ernst looked up as well, whiskey dripping from his whiskers, and Caleb reached out to stroke his soft fur.

“They destroyed Hector’s telegraph. I can’t try to arrest four men on my own. I need some reinforcements. So I’m going to ride back to Tasco to wire the Kansas City office.”

“Tasco’s a five-day ride!”

“I know. But it’s the nearest telegraph office. I don’t know enough about the system to try and tap into the lines directly from here, and without Hector’s help we’re out of choices.”

Though Ellen looked like she might continue her protests, Teddy was a more practical man. After a moment’s thought, he pulled a pack out from behind the bar and started stuffing food into it. “I dinnae have much fresh, but the bread should last a few days, and if ye can shoot a rabbit or two on the way, ye should do fine. I’ll get yer canteen filled up with water, too.”

Jimmy finally piped up, the words bursting out of him before any of the adults could silence him. “I could come with you! I’m light; you wouldn’t even notice me on a hauler like that. And you could keep me safe that way.”

Caleb smiled and mussed his already tousled hair. “You’re safer here where you know the territory. You know all the good hiding places.”

He was hardly mollified and grumbled to himself as he went back to his sarsaparilla.

Ellen was harder to fool. “They beat Hector because of telegrams you sent? What was in them?”

Caleb shook his head. “It wasn’t what was in them. It’s what they thought was in them. And I have no idea what that was. Warner thinks I’ve found something damaging, perhaps.”

“And have you?” She fixed him with narrowed eyes.

“Now, Ellen . . . perhaps we shouldnae be askin’ about things we’ve no concern in,” Teddy cautioned, but he too cast a curious glance at the Peacemaker, hoping for an answer.

“I’m . . . not sure.” Caleb thumped his hat against his thigh before putting it back on. “Do either of you know anything about the nullstone in the mountains?”

Ellen shook her head. “Everyone knows it’s there. They say that’s why the children here are barren.”

“But no one tries to mine it?”

“Why would anyone want to do that? Who would buy it?”

“I’ve been wondering the same thing myself.” He chewed his lip in thought. “It makes no sense.”

Ellen stood up from her stool. “That’s what you found? Warner is mining nullstone? Dear God, if he’s storing it on that ranch, the danger he’s posing to those children is . . .” Her mouth worked silently for a few moments, at a loss for words. “You have to do something! We have to tell the parents; they have to stop their children from going out there!”

For a moment, Caleb thought she was going to march out the door and do it right then. “No! A few more days won’t hurt anything, and if you confront him, he’s likely to have you laid out right next to Hector.”

Teddy came out from behind the bar, resting his hands on Ellen’s shoulders. “Agent Marcus is right, Miss Ellen. And I dinnae wish ta see anythin’ happen ta ye.”

“So we’re expected to simply hide away while he gets away with . . . whatever it is he’s doing?” Color flared high in her cheeks, and her brown eyes flashed angrily.

“That’s exactly what I’m asking you to do. Warner’s sitting out there with his own personal army, and until I can get back here with more men, he can do whatever the hell he wants. Pardon my language. Keep your eyes and ears open. Learn anything you can that will help me tie Warner to the men who attacked Hector. More than anything, stay out of sight. Right now, I have nothing on him, even if we all know he ordered it. All I have is you and Jimmy.”

He glanced toward Jimmy, who was doing a poor job of pretending not to pay attention. “And see if Jimmy and Mr. Isby can fix the telegraph. I’m willing to bet, between the two of them, they can rig something up.”

The boy perked up. “I can do that! You just wait and see. When you get ta Tasco, we’ll have a message there waitin’ for you!”

“Agent Marcus?” Everyone in the room jumped at the sound of the strange voice, relaxing only when they realized it was Dr. Elm looking in over the half door. “Hector is conscious at times, and he’s asking for you. At least, I think that’s what he’s asking. You might want to come see him.”

“I’ll be right there, Doctor. Thank you.” Teddy handed him the bundle of food and a dripping canteen. Caleb nodded his thanks and fixed Jimmy with a stern glare. “I mean it. Stay out of sight and away from the windows. Be good for Miss Sinclair and Mr. MacGregor, all right?”

“Yessir.”

“Come on, Ernst.” The jackalope abandoned his dish of whiskey with a forlorn sigh and hopped after Caleb.

Though the crowd had largely dispersed from Hector’s store, people were making a point to wander by and peer in the windows. Caleb’s arrival elicited a round of excited whispers, but no one stopped him to speak.

One of the townsfolk—a Mr. Granger, Caleb thought—sat in Hector’s usual seat behind the counter and nodded to both the Peacemaker and Dr. Elm as they walked through.

Hector looked worse, if possible, than when Caleb had discovered him. The cuts on his face had been stitched up, the black threads sticking up like brush bristles. His bruises were a deeper purple than before, and his eyes and nose were swollen so badly they were hardly recognizable as a face at all. His mouth hung open so that he could breathe shallowly, and the raspy wheeze was loudly ominous in the small room. Always gangly, he looked positively skeletal now.

Caleb slid onto the chair next to the bed, barely touching the shopkeeper’s shoulder, afraid to hurt him even more. Ernst hopped up on the other side, carefully nuzzling the man’s cheek. “Hector? It’s Agent Marcus. . . .”

Hector’s breathing went on uninterrupted for a long moment. Perhaps he had lost consciousness again? Finally, he stirred ever so slightly, turning his head in the vague direction of Caleb’s voice. “Agent Marcus?” The words were garbled, and Caleb had to lean close to hear.

“Yes, Hector. You shouldn’t be trying to talk; you should rest.” The old man mumbled something unintelligible, and Caleb tried to pat his less injured hand soothingly. “Hush. It’s all right.”

Hector shook his head, his swollen brow creasing as he tried to convey something. “Sorry . . . told them . . . telegram . . .”

“There was nothing in that telegram that was worth your life, Hector. You did nothing wrong.” Lord, was this what was bothering the poor man? “Rest now. Listen to the doctor.”

He started to stand, and Hector grabbed for his arm, holding him tightly despite his mangled fingers. “C . . . codes! Didn’t . . . tell them . . . codes . . .” His hand dropped, his strength exhausted.

“Oh, Hector,” Caleb murmured. In his line of work, it wasn’t often that he found truly good men. But this one had almost died to protect a near stranger’s secrets. “I’ll get them for you. I promise I will.”

Hector didn’t answer, his labored breathing the only indication that he still lived.

Caleb put his hat back on and met Dr. Elm at the door. “Is he going to make it?”

The doctor sighed, shaking his head slowly. “It’s . . . hard to say. There’s internal injuries I can’t even guess at. He could be bleeding into his brain right now, and I’d never know it. Sadly, my power has . . . limits.”

Ernst, still on the bed, moved carefully up to Hector’s head, nuzzling the salt-and-pepper hair. “He’s not bleeding. But his left ankle is fractured. You might want to see to that.”

The doctor looked surprised for a heartbeat, then immensely relieved. “Thank you, Ernst. That information will help a lot.” He gave Caleb a wan smile. “It’s too bad I don’t have a familiar of my own. They’re very useful little creatures.”

Caleb eyed the ailing man and his familiar, huddled so close, thoughtfully. “Ernst . . . how would you feel about staying here to help the doctor with Hector?”

Ernst’s raised one long ear. “Are you sure? We’ve never been that far apart for so long.”

It was true. They’d never been apart for more than a few hours since the day Caleb awoke to find a magical ferret on his chest, and while they’d stretched their bond thin over distance before, it had never been so far. Caleb felt something leaden settle in his stomach at the very thought, but without Ernst’s help, Hector could die. “It’s up to you. You could do a world of good here, I think.”

The jackalope debated, his nose wriggling as he thought. Finally, he nodded, one decisive bob of his head. “All right. You can always call if you need me, right?” If they both believed they could still feel each other across that distance, perhaps it would be true.

“Right. Be good, Ernst. And check on in Jimmy if you get a chance.”

“I can do that.” He snuggled down in the crook of Hector’s shoulder, purring softly.

“Bless you, Agent Marcus.” The doctor pressed Caleb’s hand with both of his. “I hope you find the men who did this.”

The Peacemaker nodded. “I hope so, too, Dr. Elm.”

Half of Hope saw him mount up on Sven Isby’s rented hauler and ride out of town, so there would be no keeping his absence a secret for long. He tied Teddy’s bundle of food to the saddle, tucked his staff into his stirrup, pulled his hat down over his eyes, and headed east.

It quickly became apparent that one disadvantage of leaving Ernst behind was that there was no one to keep him awake. His short nap had not been enough by far, and he found himself dozing fitfully in the saddle as the construct galloped its way over the rough-hewn track.

The heat itself was draining as the sun rose to its zenith high overhead, and he regretted not bringing more water. There were no stops between Hope and Tasco, the few tiny springs having fallen victim to the ongoing drought. What he had was what he’d make do with, and he’d have to use it sparingly.

The one thing he truly worried about was the response from the office in Kansas City. Even if they came straight away, it would be at least a week before the stage could arrive, and a lot could happen in that amount of time.

“No other way around it, though. Right, Ernst?” Belatedly, he remembered that his familiar was not there. The tiny connection that bound them together was dwindling far behind him, but he swallowed hard and pushed on. Ernst would be fine. So would he.

For nearly two hours he rode, determined to ignore the discomfort of the ungainly transport, fighting to stay mostly awake in the broad saddle. The sun beat down on him with the force of a dozen hammers until he could feel every pounding hoofbeat lancing up his spine into the back of his skull. His lips were cracked already, and reluctantly, he reached behind him to retrieve the canteen and his store of precious water.

Half turned in the saddle as he was, he saw the blue light first, a speck no bigger than a bumblebee streaking across the prairie at him. His instincts registered it faster than his mind, but he still couldn’t get the shield up before the gunshot echoed in his ears.

He flung himself backward off the hauler too late, and it exploded beneath him in a ball of raging arcane fire. The ethereal blue flames billowed around him, filled his ears, his eyes, and only when he saw the ground rushing up to meet him at great speed did he realize that he’d been blown clear of the inferno.

Then he knew nothing at all.