“Yeah, if you’d sent us out straight away it would have been impossible to control those beasts, and the workers would have branded us as easy,” Ryan said. “But there haven’t been any more attempts to stop progress on the project?”
Myall shook his head. “It comes and goes in waves. Right now, I’d say that whoever is doing it is either lying low to see just what you’re like, or they’re too busy fighting other battles in the camp.”
The sec man took a long drink from a canteen and offered it to Ryan, who took it and found his throat assailed by a raw-vegetable distilled spirit. He had been expecting water, and it was all he could do to stop from choking at the bite of the bitter alcohol.
“It’s the only way we’ve been getting through this,” Myall said, noting Ryan’s surprise. “Helps you sleep—that’s for sure.”
“As long as it doesn’t stop you from being triple red when you’re out there,” Ryan added.
Myall grinned. “Hell, I sometimes think that’d be better. Y’know, if I died tonight I think hell would be like this…stuck in the middle of nowhere with a whole bunch of misfits who want to blast the fuck out of each other, and no idea who’s really doing shit to who.”
“Sounds like everyday life to me, not just here,” Ryan commented.
“Yeah, well, mebbe that’s why it stinks worse than those bastard horses,” Myall said, taking back the canteen and sinking some more of the spirit. “I’ll bid you good-night, my friend. And one more thing,” he suddenly added as he rose to leave.
“Yeah?” Ryan queried.
“Crow arrives tomorrow.”
“What’s he been sent here for?”
Myall allowed himself a grin that was entirely devoid of humor. “To get you out there. Baron Silas is a hard man, and he demands payment for everything he does. It’s your time to pay, I guess.”
“We’re ready,” Ryan said evenly.
“I know that,” Myall said simply before leaving the one-eyed man alone with his thoughts.
THE NEXT MORNING Ryan rose to find the giant Native American breakfasting with the sec force in the mess tent.
“So we meet again,” Crow said with a glimmer of good humor in his low, quiet voice. “Under more pleasant circumstances this time, however,” he added.
“That rather depends on what you mean by ‘pleasant,’ ” Doc returned with an equal tone as he seated himself beside Crow and Ryan.
“It’s a relative term,” mused the Native American, “but at least you’re not half dead from heat exhaustion and lack of food and water. And at least you get to keep your weapons this time. Let’s just hope you get a chance to use them.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to say that we don’t get a chance to use them?” Ryan countered. “If us just being here stops any more sabotage, then the well and refinery can open, the workers get their jack, the barons get their power, and everyone’s happy.”
“In a perfect world, mebbe,” Crow said at length. “But you’re no fool, Ryan Cawdor—you know it won’t be that way. Whoever is behind this will crawl out of their little hole again, regardless of if you’re there or not. Mebbe even because, if they feel it’s a challenge. So what happens then?”
“Okay, you make the point well,” Ryan conceded. “But we won’t know for sure until we actually get out there.”
“Which will be when?”
“Today,” the one-eyed man replied. “That’s why you’re here, after all.”
Crow allowed a smile to crack his impassive, leathery features. Under the shadow cast by the brim of his hat, his eyes glittered.
“To say that’s very perceptive would be an insult in your case,” he said softly. “Are you ready to go?”
“As ready as we’ll ever be,” Ryan said. “Right, Doc?”
Doc winced slightly as he thought of his sore back. “I think it is safe to say that, my dear boy.”
As the sec force went about its daily tasks, the rest of the companions joined Ryan, Doc and Crow in the tent. And when they were replete, they walked out to the paddock, where McVie was waiting for them.