“What?” he whispered.
“Someone in there,” Krysty stated. “I can feel it. Someone frightened.”
“Mayhap I should go on ahead and attempt to seek out this person, while you wait here, Krysty?”
She smiled. “I don’t think so, Doc.”
She raised her voice. “Come on out, whoever you are. We won’t hurt you.”
Nothing happened. A tawny bird, with a red breast, took off noisily from the aspens, fluttering north.
“We’re coming in. If we do, then someone might get themselves chilled.”
“Don’t” said a small, quavering voice.
Krysty glanced at Doc. “I got a feeling I know who’s hiding in there.”
She called, “Come out, child.”
The door opened wider and a young girl emerged into the daylight, blinking, hands held up in front of her as though she feared a blow. There was a deep bruise on her face.
“By the Three Kennedys!” Doc shook his head. “The serving wench from Ma’s Place. Did you guess that it was her, Krysty? Quite amazing.”
“Don’t shoot me like you shot Ma.”
“We won’t.”
The little face had sharp, foxy eyes and a pinched mouth. “They don’t know you shot Ma, folks here. They think she died in the fire. And me. They get real hanging cross if they know truth.”
The underlying message was all too clear.
Doc had holstered his pistol, but he half raised his cane. “You impudent little minx!”
“You can hit me, but that don’t hurt. Been hit by Ma, then you been hit by best. One way stop me goin’ and tellin’ everyone in the ville that you butchered poor Ma.”
“And that’s doubtless a handful of jack, is it?” Krysty asked gently.
“Could be.” She grinned confidently, sticking her tongue out at Doc. “And you better be nice to me, you old fart.”
“What?”
“Or you get to dance on air from the hanging tree by river. Yeah, you better be real nice. Maria say kiss my feet, and you better get on your belly and do like I say. Or one word from me”
Doc’s knuckles were white on the silver lion’s-head hilt of the swordstick, and his mouth opened and closed like a stranded fish at the girl’s rudeness.
Krysty was barely keeping her iron self-control, glancing casually around the garden to make sure that they weren’t being watched by anyone.
She spoke to Doc. “You know what Ryan would do if he was here, don’t you?”
He nodded, his face like flint. “For once I believe he might be right.”
“What you talk about?” the girl asked, edging closer to them. “You don’t whisper secrets or else”
“Can you do it, Doc?”
“In cold blood? Or even when I am angered, as I am now?” He hesitated. “I fear that I could not.”
“Mebbe I can.” Krysty drew her blaster and pointed it at Maria. “Don’t make a sound or you get to go meet Ma again. Understand, child?”
“Sure,” she replied, her eyes wide with sudden terror at the realization that her cunning plan was built on shifting sand. There was a faint tinkling sound, and a dark pool appeared in the dust between her bare feet.
“Turn around, quickly,” Krysty ordered.
“You shoot me in back of the neck.” Her voice was almost inaudible with fear.
“Turn around and lift your hair off your nape. Do it!” A harsh note of command had entered Krysty’s voice.
“What is nape?”
“Off the back of your neck,” Doc said, doing his best to sound kind and reassuring.
Maria did as she was told, standing in front of Krysty, looking toward the barn, her body trembling.
Krysty brought up the .38, pointing it at the back of the girl’s skull.
She sighed, then reversed it and brought it down butt first with a dull thud on the back of Maria’s neck, sending her sprawling into the dirt, instantly unconscious.
Doc tapped the ferrule on his cane on a loose stone. “Well done,” he said quietly. “I admit that I had thought you were about to”
Krysty smiled grimly. “No, Doc. There’s things that Ryan and I are real close about. And there’s things where there’s a chasm between us.”
“Won’t hold her for long.”