Ellen's Arc

Chapter 13 of 45

Ellen laid Cade down in the flats and looked at the women around her. Six of them, huddled on bare dirt. No walls. No cover. The plain ran flat in every direction. A single raider band would spot them from far off and finish them. She had pulled everyone out of the tunnel, but she had pulled them into the open. She scanned the ground. To the north sat a dark shape she had passed before. A wagon, half-buried in dust, tilted on broken wheels. She remembered it. Vincent Marconi kept it out here. It was armored, plated in iron, with mounted guns on both sides. Cover, if she could reach it. "Can you walk?" she asked Cade. "If I have to." He gripped her arm and rose. They moved toward the wagon. The women followed close. Halfway there, a rider crested a low rise ahead. Ellen froze. The man reined in and looked down at them. She knew the pinstripe suit and the flat hat. Vincent Marconi. "You owe me a barn full of squatters," Vincent said. He looked at the six women. "Now I count them again." "They're not going back," Ellen said. "Your tunnel's burned. Your men know it. So do I." Vincent studied her the way he studied everyone. She felt him weigh what she wanted and what she feared. "You want the wagon," he said. "I want walls. That's the only thing out here with any." He glanced past her. A second rider appeared to the east, then reined up hard. Not one of Vincent's men. A big man, bearded, blood dried on his vest. He carried more guns than any of them. Ellen's stomach dropped. She had counted seven dead in the tunnel. This was the eighth. "Cade," Marcus Brennan said. His voice came flat and quiet. "Took me all night to climb out." Cade lifted the empty shotgun. It clicked on nothing. Brennan raised his rifle. Vincent moved first. He drew and fired once. Brennan's rifle jerked from his hands. "Not on my ground," Vincent said. "You want him, you go through my count. And I'm not done counting." Brennan held still. He looked at Vincent, then at the iron wagon, then at Ellen. One man against a mounted gun and a gangster. He backed his horse a slow step. "This isn't finished," he said, and turned east. Vincent watched him ride off. Then he looked at Ellen. "The wagon's yours. For tonight." He holstered the pistol. "You still owe me. I'll say when." He wheeled his horse and left. Ellen got the women behind the iron plating and pulled Cade into its shadow. Walls at last. But she had bought them from Vincent, and the debt sat heavier now. Brennan was alive and gone east, wounded and certain. She had cover for one night, and two hunters who both knew exactly where to find her.