There was nothing to see when she looked around, the bright flames dancing off the reflecting glass. Jak was still asleep across the room from her, his white hair tinted pink by the fire.
Another thump, much louder, made the room rattle.
Jak woke, blinking. “What was that?”
Krysty was up on her feet, walking toward the window. “Something knocked against” she began. “Oh, Gaia!”
It was the wolves.
One of them was just moving away, limping a little, and now the pack leader was coming at a rush. He charged through the snow, jaws wide, eyes flaring, straight for the glass.
It weighed at least three hundred pounds, and Krysty knew instantly that the window wasn’t going to stop it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
A mirror on the wall opposite Ryan enabled him to see the three men behind him. He cursed his lack of caution, lulled by the excellent food.
Three men. The one holding the short-barreled revolver at the base of Ryan’s skull was average height. His face was lean with oddly thick lips. A deep scar seamed his left cheek. He looked to be around thirty, and his two companions were both much younger.
They put Ryan in mind of the gang of three that had ambushed them on the trail.
“You come from Glenwood, mister?”
Ryan continued to eat the last few forkfuls of his cherry cobbler, using his fork in his left hand to shove some of the final crumbs of pastry together.
He glanced up, trying to make a combat judgment of the trio. Neither of the younger men had blasters drawn, though they were wearing revolvers in holsters. They were obviously content that their older companion had the situation well under control.
Ryan took a sip of lemonade, laying the spoon down for a moment. “Glenwood. Yeah.”
“When?”
“Three, four days back.”
“How come it took so long? Was you on foot?”
“Yeah. I was with my young son. Taking him up to the school over yonder.”
“Brody’s place?”
“That’s the one.”
“You see anything of some good friends of ours? Some good, good friends?”
“They got names?”
“Joey. And a couple of kids.”
He turned his head. “What was their names?”
“Eddie and Manuel.”
“Right. They went off to try and get somesupplies and stuff. And they don’t come back.”
“Been plenty of snow behind me. Could be they got caught in that.”
One of the younger men nodded in the mirror. “That might be right, Gordy.”
“I don’t know. Looks like this outlander’s the only person come up in the last week. There was that old man and the girl going down with their burro.”
The kid on the left giggled. “But we know they weren’t going to make it to the Springs, don’t we, Harve?”
The other teenager laughed, showing a strange dental arrangement where every other black and rotting tooth was capped with gold, reminding Ryan of a piano keyboard.
“Should be back,” Gordy insisted, pressing the muzzle of his blaster harder against the back of Ryan’s head. “And this son of a bitch is going to tell us about it.”
Carl had spotted the disturbance and bustled over, wiping his hands on his apron. “What’s going on here?”
“Butt out, asshole!” Gordy snarled, his eyes still locked on Ryan’s face in the mirror. “Got us some business with the outlander here.”
“It’s all right,” Ryan said quietly. “Let it lie or you’ll likely get yourself hurt.”
“I can help.”
“No.” Ryan shook his head warningly. “You run a great eatery, but I don’t see you as a shootist. Let it lie. Best all around to do that.”
Gordy laughed, licking a thread of spittle from his bulbous lips.
“Don’t want to make a mess, huh? Specially inside your pants. Then let’s go outside and talk this over.”
“Right.” Ryan had let his shoulders slump, knowing the importance of body language, allowing the three killers to think they had him cowed and totally at their mercy.
He started to stand, pushing himself up with his right hand, so they could see he wasn’t doing anything foolish, such as reaching for his SIG-Sauer. The muzzle of the blaster moved from his nape, and he was able to see what it wasa Llama Comanche Model II with a four-inch barrel, chambered to take a big .38 round. It was enough blaster to spread Ryan’s skull all over the mirror.