Hettie smoothed out the wrinkles in the one dress she’d packed as best as she could, but decided a little dishevelment wouldn’t hurt her cause. Late in the morning, Ling dropped her about half a mile outside of Hawksville. The healer didn’t like her plan one bit, but he couldn’t go with her—he’d be recognized for sure. She promised she would rejoin him before nightfall—at least, that was the hope.

She walked into town, gathering plenty of dust on her boots and the hem of her skirt. She’d smeared some of the red mud from the creek bed along her front, as well. It looked like dried blood.

As the buildings came into sight, she focused on her weariness, staggering, trying to bring tears into her eyes. It wasn’t hard to look pitiful. She was thirsty and hungry, and her various injuries still ached, though Ling had done a fair job healing the worst of it. As she shuffled into town, she immediately caught the attention of some rough-looking sorts hanging around outside a low building.

“Help me, please,” she blubbered, rushing toward them. “My pa’s hurt—we were jumped on the road by a savage!”

The men glanced at each other, then pushed off the wall and came toward her. She probably should have had some consideration for her personal safety—she was taking a risk by playing the damsel in distress—but then reminded herself she had a gun. “Here, now, miss, what’s the trouble?” one man asked.

“We were headed to Newhaven,” she sniffled, “and this wild man jumped from the bushes and bashed my poor pa over the head! He took our horses, our cart—he took everything! Please, help me!”

More men had gathered, anger and shock filling their faces.

“Child, what happened to your hair?” a wizened old man asked.

She’d run Jezebel’s spit through it to make sure it stuck up in all directions and matted it over the scar. “The wild man sliced it off. He was using it for some evil spell. I got away when he … he vanished into a puff of smoke!”

“A demon!”

“Maybe a shaman from the territories.”

“No, it must be a Kukulos warlock,” someone else said. “Sounds like we have a rogue sorcerer on the loose.”

The gathering gasped and whispered. Hettie figured that was the perfect moment to swoon. She went limp and dropped.

“Catch her!”

“Someone find some smelling salts!”

“Call Missy Parsons!”

They carried her into the shade of a wood porch. Someone placed a cool cloth across her forehead. She fluttered her eyes open and found herself peering into the face of the bawdy girl from the Dove.

The woman’s blue eyes focused on her, but her expression didn’t change. She was wearing a simple cotton dress, her hair put up in a loose bun, her face scrubbed clean. “Drink this.” She pushed a glass of whiskey at her. Hettie sipped the drink cautiously, coughing as it burned its way down.

“Okay, now, everyone, back off,” she snapped. “Give the girl some air.”

“My pa,” Hettie croaked. “He’s still out there…”

“Where at, miss?”

“There was a tree. And a boulder.” She made up landmarks as she continued. “And a stream. I think it was north of here. But I got turned around…” She summoned tears and let her hands quake.

The men hesitated at her vague directions. She put in eagerly, “Pa’s a rich man. He’ll be sure to reward whoever saves him.” If you can’t rely on the kindness of strangers, then rely on their greed. Pa had taught her that.

“We’ll bring him back to you, miss, don’t you worry. Missy’ll take care of you until we do.” Several of them tipped their hats and hurried away to search for a man who didn’t exist. It would be something of a race, she imagined, as the tale of the lost girl and her rich pa spread through town and people scrambled to find him for an imaginary reward.

If only people were as willing to help find Abby.

“Let’s go inside,” Missy said. “There’s a room you can use to rest.”

“Thank you.” She made a show of getting up. “I appreciate your hospitality, Miss…?”

“It’s just Missy ’round here.” The woman’s lips curved. “Let it never be said Hawksville is completely full of louts and thugs. The people here are decent enough … for a price. What’s your name?”

“Deborah. Debbie. Ashton. My father’s George Ashton, the third,” she called after the men.

“I doubt they’ll need to know his name, Miss Debbie. Ain’t many men take the north road to Newhaven. Where you from?”

“Cranston Springs,” she replied after a beat. Missy sure did ask a lot of questions.

Hettie followed her into the saloon. As they walked up the stairs, the harried cook popped her head out from behind the bar and peered at Hettie. “Not your usual fare. Who is that?”

“This is Debbie Ashton. She had some trouble on the road. A posse’s gone out looking for her pa. She just needs a place to rest awhile.”

“She got cash up front?”

“Be a Good Samaritan, Mae. At least till her pa arrives.”

The woman muttered something about bills, then disappeared back into her kitchen.

“Don’t mind Mae. She just grumbles for the sake of grumbling. Anyhow, your pa’ll have some way to pay for a room, right?” Missy unlocked a door and led her in. It was the same room Hettie had paid for yesterday. “Why don’t you lie down awhile? If your pa is out there, them boys’ll bring him back soon enough.”

The last thing Hettie wanted was to get trapped in the inn. “I am awful tired, but I’m not sure I could rest … knowing Pa’s still out there with that madman on the loose, I mean.”

“You sure about that? You look like you’ve been … well, running all night.” Her eyes gleamed.

Hettie forced herself to remain calm, averting her gaze. “It’s been a hard road.”

Missy shut the door gently and faced her fully. “All right, it’s just us girls now. What kind of scam are you pulling?”

Hettie kept her face somber. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Just because I’ve been making a living on my back doesn’t make me stupid. You’re the boy from last night. I’m good with faces, you know. Besides, if your pa was a real merchant, he wouldn’t move supplies from Cranston Springs to Newhaven by cart. Not on these roads. It’d been cheaper and faster to go by train, and a man doesn’t make his fortune by taking stupid risks.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Who’re you trying to con? ’Cuz there ain’t much in this town worth risking neck or nether over.”

Hettie darted a look behind her. Should she try to jump out the window? But if Missy knew who she was, she didn’t seem too eager to tell anyone else.

“Where’s this pa of yours? Is he waiting outside for you?”

“My pa’s dead.”

Missy blinked. Hettie stiffened her spine and went on. “I’m not trying to con anyone. I’m looking for someone. A man who may know where my missing sister is.”

“Is that so?” Missy sat on the lone chair in the room. “And who would that be?”

“Teddy. I don’t have a last name. He was at the warehouse fight last night. He works for Boss Smythe.”

“You were the one who saved that Chinaman from the hangman’s necktie.” She nodded. “I thought so. That was some show you put on. Had the whole town in a riot putting out fires that didn’t burn. You don’t look like much of a sorcerer, though.”

She decided not to confirm her suspicions.

Missy assessed her shrewdly. “You telling the truth? About your sister?”

“She was kidnapped by the Crowe gang. They killed my parents, burned my farm, and left me to die.”

“So you want revenge.”

“I want my sister back.”

She leaned forward. “I might know where to find Teddy. I could even lure him out into the open for you.”

“For a price,” Hettie surmised.

Missy smirked.

“What do you want? I don’t have any money.”

“Now that’s a lie. You had to have money to pay room and board and to stable that magicked white mare of yours. Don’t look so surprised—I didn’t chat you up just to see if you were interested in a lark. You make a good boy, by the way.” She sat back and studied her critically. “I want a new life.”

“Excuse me?”

“Look around you. Hawksville is going the way of Louisberg, Wade’s Point, Penance … all those towns the railroad bypassed and the Zoom tunnels don’t reach. I want to leave this place and start a new life.”

“I don’t have that much money.”

“You’ve got more than you let on, I reckon. If I were meaner, I’d ask you for the lot. Wouldn’t take much for me to scream and have the men up here with their guns, after all. Wherever that Celestial’s gotten to, he won’t get here fast enough to save you if folks decide to string you up.” She inspected her nails. “But I’m a charitable sort, so I’ll make you a bargain. Give me enough for the train heading to New York, and I’ll get you Teddy.”

Hettie grasped the gun in her pocket, fingers twitching. “I don’t have nearly that much. And I need what I do have to hire a bounty hunter.”

“No money, no help.”

The gun in her pocket felt heavier. She could threaten Missy into helping her. Maybe knock her over the head, tie her up…

What was she even thinking? She was desperate, yes, but not quite enough to assault a fallen woman.

“How about this: I’ll give you carriage fare to go to Newhaven. I’ll write you a note of introduction. I’m sure someone’ll hire you. If it’s a new life you’re looking for, that’s better than fare to New York.”

“Who’d hire a whore in Newhaven?” She snorted derisively. “I don’t want to trade one bed for another. Here, at least, I don’t have to deal with a pimp.”

“I can write that you’re a … a washerwoman, or a cook. There’ll be plenty of folks who’d take you on if I asked. I’d be the only one who’d know the truth.”

“And you’re okay with lying about my references?”

“If it gets you to help me, I’ll tell them you’re the queen of England.” Hettie clenched her fists. “Missy, please. I can’t stall. It’s been nearly a month since Abby went missing, and I don’t know how much longer…” She bit her lip, stemming the desperate plea. “I need to get to Teddy today,” she said quietly.

Missy tilted her chin. “You really mean it, don’t you? You’d do anything to find your sister.”

Hettie met her gaze. “She’s all I have left.”

The woman closed her eyes and exhaled. “Dang, I’m getting soft.” She opened the door. “All right. It’s a deal. I’ll get some paper and a pen. You’re gonna write that letter first. After that, we can catch Teddy at the warehouse. But what you do with him after I bring him to you is none of my business, understand?”

On their way to the warehouse, Hettie kept her hands tucked in her coat pockets. She fingered the revolver, palms damp, mouth dust-dry. She hadn’t even tested the thing. Hopefully the sight of it would be enough to scare Teddy into talking.

“Draw him to the yard in the back of the warehouse,” Hettie instructed. “I’ll speak to him there alone.”

Missy eyed her warily. “You sure this ain’t about revenge?”

“If he tells me what I need to know, there won’t be any need for trouble.”

The hard lines between her eyes and around her mouth softened, and she rubbed her palms over the front of her skirt. “Teddy ain’t a bad man, you know. He’s downright gentle compared to some of the men who come ’round.”

“He shot my pa and let them take my sister.”

“Well, I ain’t sticking around for this. I’ll do my part. After that, you’re on your own. If he finds out I helped you—”

“He won’t.” Hettie walked around the big building and found a spot in the shade to wait. Missy disappeared within.

Hettie’s pulse pounded in her temples. It was a long time before she heard any movement, and she spent that time checking and rechecking the bullets loaded in the revolver. She had another six in her pocket but doubted she’d miss at point-blank range.

A door opened, and voices floated through. She gripped the weapon with both hands and pressed her back against the wall. She shivered, her whole body flashing hot and cold. She recognized Missy’s lazy come-hither drawl. Hettie leaned against a crate, breathing deep as she regained her balance. The weapon was solid and cool in her death grip.

“Dunno why you came to me now,” Teddy’s soft, low voice came. “It ain’t that I don’t appreciate your attentions, Miss Parsons, but…”

He emerged from the back door first, red-faced and wiping his hands on a rag. His bowler hat was perched high on his shiny domed head. He halted at the sight of Hettie, his face a study in puzzlement. Slowly, recognition dawned in his wide green eyes as Hettie pointed Diablo at his chest. Missy melted into the shadows.

Teddy’s nostrils flared in his suddenly pale face. “You a ghost?” he asked quietly. “Or did someone bring you back to flesh?”

A sour taste filled her mouth. “Butch missed.”

“Butch never misses.” His gaze traveled down to the weapon in her hand. “So you had it all along.”

“Where’s my sister?”

Teddy took a step forward. Hettie pulled the hammer back, and he stopped. “Don’t make me do anything rash,” she said, hating the tremor in her voice. “Tell me where Abby is and I’ll let you live.”

“I don’t rightly know,” he said, hands raised. “We parted ways a night’s ride south of your ranch. They took a remote Zoom tunnel back to the hideout.”

So that was how they’d eluded the marshal and his men. It told her something else: they had some very powerful sorcerers on their payroll. If the Kukulos were working with them, she shuddered to think what Abby’s purpose was. “Is she still alive?”

“Don’t know that, either. But I reckon she is if—” He cut himself off ruthlessly, glanced around. “You didn’t bring backup, did you?”

“Where’d they take her?”

“Why? You planning on chasing them?” He chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t you know who you’re dealing with? Butch Crowe is the meanest son of a bitch to ever lead the Crowe gang. He’ll eat you alive, especially if he knows you’ve got Diablo in your hot little hands.”

Hettie ground her jaw. “Where did they take her?” she repeated.

He lifted his chin. “South, to the Mexican border, a few miles from the Wall. I have no reason to lie. Not if you’re going to ride all the way to his front step to deliver that piece of work to him.”

Hettie’s blood surged, pumping so hard she could feel the pulse in her throat. The gun was getting heavier in her hands. She’d thought it was her imagination, but she had to shift her grip. Teddy’s attention was drawn by the motion of her finger stroking the trigger spasmodically.

“You even know anything about that revolver, girl?” He licked his lips. “That thing is cursed. You’ve no idea what kind of power you’re dealing with.”

“You’re going to take me to my sister,” Hettie said. Her shoulders ached, and her arms trembled. “Butch can have Diablo if he gives me my sister, alive and in one piece.”

Teddy’s face closed. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ve washed my hands of them. Paid my debts. I want nothing to do with their plans.”

“And what would those be?”

“I ain’t telling you. Mostly ’cuz I can’t.”

“Seems we have a disagreement.”

His cheeks puffed out as he exhaled in a huff. His hands drifted to his sides. Hettie shouted as he reached for his gun, and she squeezed Diablo’s trigger.

A flash of green light, and the gun just barely ticked in her hands. The roar of a train engine rang in her ears, rumbled through her chest. Teddy staggered back, howling. Blood poured from the stump that was his hand, spilling across the dirt.

“You’re taking me to Butch Crowe,” Hettie declared, her vision clouding at the sight of his gruesome injury. She swallowed her gorge and kept Diablo leveled. “You’ll help me find my sister or I swear—”

“Hettie, you blasted idiot!” Out of nowhere, Jeremiah Bassett yanked her wrist above her head. “What are you doing?”

The moment she took her eyes off Teddy, he bolted.

Hettie threw off the shock of seeing Uncle and pounded after Teddy through the warehouse. Shots rang out. She ducked as bullets ricocheted from the metal struts and support columns.

“Coward!” She raced through the building and, momentarily blinded by the darkness, crashed into a barrel. She was still winded when she emerged from the street-side entrance, vision dazzled once more as she streaked into the sunshine.

Her quarry ran up the middle of the street. She had a clear shot. She stopped, squared herself, breathed deep, took aim. All she had to do was wing him—

A force like a locomotive slammed into her side, tackling her to the ground. Hettie shouted and threw wild punches, cracking the grip of her revolver against her assailant’s skull.

“Stop that!” Uncle cuffed her so hard her ears rang. “What d’you think you’re doing?”

“He’s getting away!”

“There’s no time. Stubbs has a bead on us now. We have to get out of here.” He grabbed her shoulder and started to drag her up.

Hettie pushed him off and rolled to her feet. Teddy heaved his bulk onto a horse, bleeding stump and all. If he got away—

He won’t get away.

The thought was crystal clear, superimposed over the image in her mind of his soulless stare, gun smoking, while blood bloomed over Pa’s chest.

One-handed, she leveled the gun and pulled the trigger just as Uncle shouted, “No!”

The moment of euphoria became a bubble, expanding, slowing, encompassing all as a ball of searing green energy squeezed out of the barrel seemingly in slow motion. She felt as though her heart was soaring, freed of its mortal confines. She sailed over the hundred yards between her and Teddy, breaching it in a fraction of a heartbeat, and plunged happily through his chest with a satisfying splash.

And suddenly the world was black and red with pain. Hettie tasted the dusty road as she pitched forward. Every muscle in her body pulled like taffy, stretched across her arching skeleton. She felt as though her skin were being dragged inside out and set on fire.

She screamed as her body seized. A thousand needles plunged into her flesh, burning and dissolving like acid through the marrow of her bones. The agony seemed to last forever, but in a too-long blink of an eye, it was over. She lay gasping on the ground. Her eyes burned, and she was soaked in sweat. A ribbon of thin, silvery smoke drifted from the mouth of the gun.

“Hettie. Hettie, you have to get up.” Uncle tugged her into a sitting position. “We don’t have time.”

She staggered to her feet, head spinning, searching for Teddy.

The people who’d taken cover as soon as the shooting started peeked out, gathering around something on the ground. Hettie snatched up her revolver and shoved Jeremiah off in the same motion.

The crowd parted as she approached. Some of the men put their hands on their sidearms, watching her with trepidation. Teddy’s bowler hat lay in a wide splatter of blood around the big man’s body. His face had locked into a mask of sheer terror, his eyes huge and vacant and staring up at the sky. A meaty hole as big as a cannonball had been blown clean through his chest.

Beneath him, the horse’s head was missing.