Pinned to the front of his coat with a sharpened bone needle was a square of paper. Scrawled on the paper, no doubt in Eli’s own blood, was a single word “Soon.”
Ryan turned away from the corpse, his face expressionless. In a flat voice he said, “Well, Mr. Hasslich, I hope your ass isn’t too disappointed.”
Chapter Eight
Ryan’s plan was simple. There was no need to fancy it up, at least not at first.
Leaving the guards at their posts, despite their terror, he, Doc, Felicity and Hasslich ran back to Amicus to rouse the citizens. They had freed Eli’s corpse from the framework, and Hasslich led his horse, the man’s body draped over the saddle. The animal wasn’t very tall, and Eli’s fingers and toes dragged the ground, the blood from his raw scalp leaving a sticky crimson trail in the dust.
Ryan fetched Mose Autry from his shack at the shores of the lake. He was pale and reluctant to go.
“The Cadre will strike at first light,” said Ryan. “We’ve got to be ready.”
Autry wagged his head repeatedly from side to side. “Why would Hatcher warn us like this?”
“Ego, like you said. Also to shake us up, scare us so we can’t think clearly. Right now we’ll concentrate on defense. When that’s done, we’ll map out an offensive strategy.”
“You think either one will do us any good against all of them?”
“Mebbe it will, mebbe it won’t, but we can’t sit here all night waiting to die at dawn.”
When Autry didn’t respond, Ryan growled, “You’re the leader here.”
“They blame me for this. By offering you and your people refuge, I dragged them into this predicament.”
“You can let them think you can drag them out of it.”
Autry massaged his eyes with the heels of both hands. “I’m tired, Cawdor. Tired of fighting for lost causes. That’s all Amicus is, you knowanother lost, empty dream. And Deathlands won’t suffer dreams to live. I should have known.”
Ryan grasped the man’s arm, squeezing so tightly Autry grimaced in pain. “I know about lost dreams, believe me. I also know it’s not always possible or even desirable to fight on the winning side. Maybe the buzzards’ll end up making dinner out of our carcasses, but we can make sure we won’t be the only corpses.”
Autry dropped his hands and stared unblinkingly at Ryan. Slowly a smile spread across his face. He clapped him on the shoulder, saying, “You’ve the gift of finding hope in hopeless situations, Mr. Cawdor. Mebbe some of that gift will rub off on me, and I can pass it on to my people.”
Within twenty minutes most of the Amican population was assembled at the main bonfire. Autry told them of Eli’s fate and the message he carried, which drew a collective moan of dismay.
“No, don’t let that bastard scare you,” Autry shouted. “Brothers and sisters, we can give Hatcher a fight yet. We’ll send the Red Cadre back to the Yellowstone to die on its banks. They’ll be coming about breakfast time, so by God, let’s give them snakes to eat!”
None of the people cheered at the words, but they listened and they accepted the reality there was no other option than to make a fight of it. They weren’t determined or inspired; they were simply resigned. Nevertheless, they hustled off in all directions to prepare.
All of the weapons in town were brought to the tavern. Most of them were Hasslich’s muzzle loaders, rifles and pistols. Everyone had knives, many of the them homemade replicas of Bowie’s famous blade. A few possessed tomahawks, and there were plenty of bows and arrows. Hasslich had powder and shot in his workshop, but it was barely enough for a protracted battle.
As Hasslich had indicated, there was an AK-47 in town. J.B. inspected it, opening the breech and snorting in disgust. “The firing pin’s busted. Might make someone a piss-poor club, though.”
Autry took a group of men and women to the mouth of the pass and set them to work building a barricade of rock, linking the largest boulders by chest high walls of sandstone and shale that would serve as adequate battlements for the defenders.