Ryan took out his binoculars and scanned the structure, focusing on the shiny bits atop the palisades. “Topped the timbers with glass and metal shards,” he told the Armorer. “Man trying to go over’s going to get cut up.”
“Slowed, too,” J.B. said. “Easy target.”
The trees and brush had been cut well back of the palisade walls. White marks in the bark of nearby trees showed that the pruning was done on a constant basis. A narrow dirt trail led up to the front of the trading post, tucking in behind the tree line for a moment, then emerging along the edge of the overhang fronting the river. The bend there put it less than a hundred yards from the drop-off, which was sheer, falling nearly eighty feet to the river.
Ryan sharpened the focus on the binoculars and spotted the scars in nearby rocks from cannonshot. None of them looked recent. “Got the trail positioned so the artillery can take out any wags. One shot with anything of real size and the area would be cleaned, dropping the wag off into the river.”
“Noticed that,” J.B. agreed.
At the foot of the drop-off, a small pier jutted into the river, barely above the present flood stage. It was constructed of split logs rather than timbers, providing an uneven but serviceable surface. Rope ladders zigzagged back and forth across the drop-off, leading to the same point as the trail.
Morse called out instructions to his boys, cutting the sail. The vessel coasted closer to the pier, coming around expertly.
Ryan put the binoculars away, impressed with the construction and location of the structure. He also had the distinct impression someone was watching them.
“WHO BUILT the trading post?” Ryan asked as he stepped out onto the split-timber pier. The wood rang solidly below his boots.
“Annie did,” Morse said, tying a thick hawser to one of the pier’s support posts. “Came out here in a horse-drawn wag, saw the river and decided she wanted to live here. Took her a couple years to figure out how she was going to make a living. Trading came natural to her because her folks had been involved with it.”
“They didn’t come with her?”
“By then they were chilled. Never got the particulars of the tale. Some said they ran afoul of another trader—some said they sold snake oil that started a plague that damn near wiped out a ville. They got chilled. Annie survived, kept on moving.”
Ryan had unslung the Steyr, the safety off. He turned to the companions. “While we’re here, we’re on condition red.”
They all nodded.
Wind trailed in off the river, bringing the scent of fish and sickness. A pair of corpses, bloated and dead for days, twisted and turned against a wooden dam built out into the water.
“Annie’s,” Morse explained, nodding at the dam. “Uses it for salvage. Way the land floods around here and rivers take up new paths, she collects some good stuff every now and again that floats to the top or is carried along the bottom.”
“She knows we’re here?” Ryan asked.
Morse smiled. “Ain’t been fired on. That’s practically an engraved invitation.”
Ryan gave the man a thin smile, then turned his attention to the series of rope ladders. “Jak, you got the lead. I’ll be the next man behind you.”
The albino nodded and started up the first ladder.
“Dean,” Ryan went on, “you’ll follow me, with Krysty after you. Doc, you help with Krysty, in case she needs it.”
The redhead looked as though she was going to protest, then stopped, breaking her gaze away from her lover’s.
Turning to the rest of the group that accompanied the companions, he commanded, “The rest of you start along after Doc. Elmore and Morse, if you get any ideas about leaving sudden-like, I’ll put you on the next train headed West myself. And you can take that as an ace on the line.” Both men nodded.
“Mildred,” Ryan said, “you next. J.B., you’re walking drag.” Keeping the Steyr at the ready, he turned to the rope ladders and started up.
They swayed and shook under his weight, but they held. The ropes looked in good condition, showing places where they’d been rebraided with new sections and repaired. The planks were handmade, cut from rough timber. Most of them were worn smooth because of heavy traffic, but a few—like the rope—showed where replacements had been made.