The two Mandrake women were still locked together, neither giving ground, all their attention focused on each other. This made it simple for the outsiders to part them. Mildred jabbed her opponent beneath the rib cage with a straight-finger blow that sent a searing pain through the woman’s kidneys and took her breath away. She folded onto one side and tried to throw her balance over to compensate.
Her opponent could have used this to her advantage if she, too, hadn’t also come under attack. Because of her weight and stance, there was no option for Krysty to do anything but take a handful of the woman’s hair and pull back. She had to hope that her opponent was sensitive to having her scalp pulled, and didn’t have the kind of bull-like neck muscles that would preclude it working. In this she was lucky. With a gasp of surprise and sudden pain, the older woman jerked her head back, leaving her throat and neck open to attack.
Krysty wasn’t slow in following this up. Still grasping the older woman’s hair firmly, she chopped at the exposed throat, hitting hard on the windpipe and cutting off the woman’s breath. It was all she could do to stop herself from blacking out at the sudden shock, slumping against Krysty and almost throwing her off balance. But Krysty yielded to the slump and then pushed back, reversing the momentum so that her opponent was thrust away from her. As the older woman careened away, Krysty still kept hold of her hair, using it to twist the woman’s head and deliver a punch to her temple that caused her to fall the rest of the way into unconsciousness. She dropped like a stone as Krysty let go of her hair.
Mildred was also in the process of finishing off her opponent. Doubled with agony, and with no breath in her body, the younger of the two Mandrake women turned to face Mildred, her face contorted by pain and rage. She made to grab at the black woman’s swinging plaits, but Mildred was too quick, dodging her grasping hands and swinging up her leg in the same movement, catching her opponent in the abdomen with the toe cap of her heavy boot. As the woman pitched forward, Mildred finished her off with a blow to the back of her neck, delivered with the straight edge of her right hand.
Before both Mandrake women had settled in the dust, Krysty and Mildred were back-to-back, ready for the rest of the pack to attack.
It didn’t come. Instead there was a sudden hush, and the other women stood around, not knowing what to do or who would be the first to break forward.
Mildred stalled them. “Listen to me. I don’t know what that was about, and I don’t care. I just know that we’re here to keep the peace, and if it means beating the shit out of every last one of you, then that’s what we’ll do. But you don’t give us crap and everything’ll be fine. You understand me?”
There was a silence, followed by a low rumble that could have been a grudging assent, but was certainly not dissent.
“That’s okay, then,” Mildred said as she and Krysty relaxed slightly, then made their way back to their mounts. “Just remember that, and we’ll have no argument with the people of Mandrake.”
As soon as Krysty and Mildred were on horseback, Crow kicked his steed into motion, and they left the narrow street in the Mandrake sector of the camp, with a grudging respect and possibly resentment behind them.
When they were out of earshot, Crow murmured, “That was impressive. They’ll be looking out for you now. Mebbe need to watch your backs from some, but you’ll get less shit from others.”
“That,” Mildred replied, “is the general idea.”
THE REST of their journey around the camp was less eventful. The sectors that housed the people from Water Valley and Running Water they had already encountered on their journey into the camp with Baron Silas. There was nothing new for them to learn from there as of yet.
Moving on, they came to the sector where the people from Salvation itself were housed. It came as no surprise to anyone that they had the best-constructed home site. The huts and shacks were put together from a better quality of salvaged material, and the manner in which they had been constructed suggested that a ville of engineers had been at work. Even the tents were of a stronger fabric, which looked as though it had been chosen with care from that available to make a series of moveable homes that could be transported and reerected with ease. Ryan, and J.B. in particular, had to admire the way in which the host ville had managed its section of the camp. Crow was well known here, and it soon became apparent from the comments they met with that word of this new sec force had spread among the natives of Salvation. The companions were told that it was up to them to stop the sabotage and keep the jack bonuses going up for the workers and their families.