The Armorer nodded slowly. “If we’d seen them first off, it could have been a possible. Have to remember how many enemies those two must have throughout Deathlands. Yet they’re still living, and most of their enemies aren’t.”
Ryan sighed. It was a difficult decision. His combat sense told him that Wolfram and the Magus were probably on the boat for a reason linked to their own presence aboard. And that reason would only be malign.
But there were six of them, well armed and experienced in chilling, which should be more than enough to deter the two protagonists and an unknown number of their sec men. He didn’t see how either side could possibly hope to have a clear-cut victory, except at the cost of much blood spilled. Kind of a Mexican standoff.
And it was an odd fact that the fat man and the Magus should have chosen to come out of their secret stateroom closet and deliver such an explicit warning to Jak. That wasn’t normally their way.
In the past the two men were notorious for slaying from hiding. The bullet in the back. The garrote in the night. The stiletto in the groin. The poisoned chalice.
Krysty was at his side, her hip pressed against his, hand light on his arm. “What do you reckon?”
“Can’t decide.”
“What would Trader say about it?”
“Trader was a man for playing safe. Only take chances when you had no choice.”
“We got a choice here.”
There was a gust of wind, strong enough to make the mighty vessel rock slightly, tugging at her moorings. From the saloon below them, they heard the faint squealing of whores at the sudden and unexpected movement.
Ryan looked at Krysty. “This trip means a whole lot to you, doesn’t it?”
She nodded, the golden light from the lamps heightening the brilliant fire of her hair. “Yeah, it does. A little comfort and luxury kind of charges up the batteries. Gets us ready for what comes next along the highway.”
“Sure. But if we have a run-in with those two evil dogs, there’s likely to be some of us traveling on the last train to the coast.”
J.B. had been listening to their conversation. “Could put it to the vote, Ryan.”
“We don’t work as a committee,” he replied. “Not the way we operate. Never have and never will. Comes down to a big decision like this one, I make it and you either go along with me or you walk.”
Doc sniffed. “It seems a good way to make sure that our circle gets broken, old friend. At least you should take our view into account.”
Ryan considered his words for several long seconds. “Right. I say we run a serious risk by staying aboard the Golden Eagle all the way to Crosstown. Wolfram and the Magus must be up to something. To something against us.”
J.B. was busily polishing his glasses. “I agree. But for some reason they’ve laid down a good hand that favors us. Given us a free warning. We stick close together and keep a good watch, then I don’t rightly see how they can hope to get to us. Not with so many people around.”
“That’s a vote for going on?” Ryan asked.
“Yeah. It is.”
“I’ll go with John,” Mildred said quickly. “I’ve never known anything like the Golden Eagle . Everything about it is amazing. Food. Gamblers. Decoration. We’ll likely never get another chance to ride a stern-wheeler. Like John says, we can keep an extra watch out against the ungodly.”
Ryan turned back from the window. “Two for going on. Guess you’re three, love?” Krysty nodded, unsmiling. “Doc, how about you? And Jak?”
The teenager leaped in first. “I say try and waste them. Then we can ride on north with no worries.”
“What if that’s not possible?” Ryan pointed a finger at Jak. “We’re not talking some drunken drummer with a rebuilt Saturday night special stuck in his back pocket. These are, arguably, the two single most dangerous men in all of Deathlands. Bear that in mind and decide what we should do.”
Jak hardly hesitated. “Then I say we quit boat while we’re ahead. Can’t enjoy trip knowing their shadows stand in corner of room.”