Ben Dover's Arc

Chapter 81 of 150

The willows held the crate through the afternoon. Millie sat on top of it, chewing dried apple, while the winged creature rested in the branches. Ben caught up to them on foot before dusk. The wagon had drawn the horns north. Eileen would meet them at the last ridge before Jack's place. But Ben still had no way to tell Jack Pott they were coming. Show up cold, with a humming crate and a stranger's face, and Jack's cousins would shoot first. Eileen had said as much. Jack owed no one, and he shot at surprises. Eileen found them in the willows an hour after dark. She swung down from the horse. "Jack won't open the door without a sign. He knows my whistle, but not from a mile out. We need a runner he trusts." "Who?" "His brother-in-law. Big man. Eats at Jack's table every week. Jack won't shoot him." "Where?" "Half a mile back. Roadhouse at the fork." Ben went alone. The roadhouse was a low building with one lit window. Inside, a man filled most of a bench by the fire. His beard covered his chest. His boots were unlaced because he could not reach them. He was working through a bowl of stew with both hands. "Chilly Willy?" Ben said. The big man looked up. "That's me." "Eileen Dover sent me. I need a word carried to Jack Pott tonight. Before I get there." "What word?" "Tell him Eileen is bringing her brother and a crate. Tell him the crate hums. Tell him not to open it." Chilly Willy set down the bowl. "Jack won't like the hum part." "He'll like a surprise less." "True." He pulled his boots closer with a stick. "Tie these." Ben knelt and tied them. Chilly Willy stood. He was bigger standing. "What do you want for the run?" Ben said. "Nothing tonight. You'll owe me a favor. I'll name it later." "Done." Chilly Willy went out the back and took the north path at a walk that ate ground faster than it looked. Ben watched him go, then returned to the willows. They moved the crate two more ridges before moonrise. At the last rise Ben saw a lamp swing twice in a window below. Then a third time. Eileen let out a breath. "He got there," she said. "Jack's ready." They came down the slope with the crate between them. The door opened before they knocked. A short man with quick eyes waved them in without a word and shut the door behind them. A painted urn stood on a shelf inside the entry, bright and oversized, out of place in the plain room. Jack pointed at it. "Crate goes behind that. Wall's double there. Nothing hums through it." Ben set the crate down. For the first time in a week, no one was chasing the sound.