“STAND WHERE YOU ARE and keep your hands away from any of those pretty blasters!”
“Do like he says, Dean. And don’t make any sudden movements. Stay loose.”
“Sure, Dad. Think he’s from the school?”
“Could be.”
The voice came again from the shadows beneath the blue spruces. “And cut the gabbing.”
Ryan half turned toward the hidden speaker. “Name’s Ryan Cawdor. This is my son, Dean. Come up here to enroll him in the Nicholas Brody School.”
“Oh yeah?” Mocking laughter echoed from the opposite side of the trail, near where Dean was standing. “You don’t have the look of a fond parent, outlander. Do he, Joel?”
“He looks to me like a hired killer, Ahab. That’s what he looks like to me.”
“You coming out so we can all get on, or do we stand here all day?”
There was a silence after Ryan’s angry shout.
Far above them a bald-headed eagle circled effortlessly on a thermal. Ryan looked up at it, wishing the standoff could be quickly resolved. He was feeling tired, ready for the possibility of some food and a hot bath.
“How old’s the kid?”
“Eleven.”
“Where do you come from, stranger?”
Ryan waved his hand in a circle. “All around,” he replied. “Can we get a move on?”
“Now, now,” Ahab tutted. “Could be it’s all right and we’ll escort you to Mr. Brody. Only, you seen the signs?”
“Have to be blind to miss them.”
“Sure. We keep this place tighter than a duck’s ass.. Been word about that there’s some sort of gang in the region. Farther the far side of Leadville.”
“Toward Fairplay?” Ryan asked, thinking of the rumors they’d heard about Harmony.
“Yeah. You know anythin’ about it?”
“Like you. Heard the word.”
After another short silence a man appeared from the trees on Ryan’s side, carrying a Browning 71 rifle, the replica of the famous Winchester 71. He was casually dressed in a light blue shirt, and black jeans that were tucked into work boots. He wore a sun-bleached Stetson.
Ryan was immediately struck by Ahab’s professional air of casual competence.
If he was one of the sec men for the school, then it meant Brody ran a tight establishment.
“Come on out, Joel. Think we might have us a live one here, after all.”
The screen of scrubby bushes parted and the other guard appeared, similarly uniformed, carrying an unidentifiable remake rifle.
“You best give us your blasters What did you say your name was?”
“Ryan Cawdor. My son, Dean. And I don’t give up my blasters to anybody.”
Joel and Ahab exchanged glances, both of them obviously trying to calculate the odds on pushing the issue, both deciding that the odds weren’t that great in their favor.
Ahab nodded and grinned. “Guess this wouldn’t happen if you weren’t genuine. Best come along with us, Mr. Cawdor. And you, Dean, and you can meet up with Mr. Brody. He’s always pleased to welcome new pupils, isn’t he, Joel?”
“Sure is. Yeah, he sure is.”
DOC HAD ANOTHER VIOLENT nosebleed that brought their day to a premature end only a short distance beyond the bodies of the old man and the girl.
There was a pocket of old, tired snow not far off the trail, and Mildred used some of it, packed into the swallow’s-eye kerchief, to staunch the flow. But Doc was knocked back by the incident, sitting and resting his back against a weathered tree, seeming dizzy and disorientated.
“Little Rachel once had a bad nosebleed. Was it El Paso? Or Carlsbad? I disremember the place, but there was a beautiful swimming pool, the water limpid and sparkling. My dearest daughter was about to plunge in when I noticed that her neck, chest and stomach were covered in blood. For a moment my heart stopped in midbeat until I realized it was only from her adorable little pixie nose. She jumped in and the blood clouded the water, until I couldn’t see her at all. Not at all.”
Mildred was sitting with him while J.B., Jak and Krysty scavenged for wood for a fire.
She held his hand, feeling him trembling. “Be fine soon, Doc. Altitude is a son of a bitch to get used to. Soon have a blaze going and you can relax. Eat some fruit. Catch up on sleep. You’ll wake up tomorrow like a new man.”