Terrie directed one last furious scowl at Ellen and then stepped out into the street.
*
The small band of Militiawomen trooped through the gates of the Ranger Barracks. As they crossed the parade ground, they attracted a few curious stares. Ellen tagged on at the rear, thankful she would not be called on to play any significant role in the farce. Just what was Cohen hoping to achieve? Was it for show? Did she think the squadron of Rangers would be impressed by seven women in black uniforms? There was no practical need for so many. Even if the prisoner was too injured to walk, it would not require all of them to carry her.
Lieutenant Cohen stopped on the first of the short flight of steps leading up to the door of the administration block. From this slightly elevated position she looked down on her subordinates.
“Right. I’m going to talk to Captain Aitkin and get the prisoner handed over to us. Rasheed, come with me. The rest of you wait out here.”
The two officers climbed the stairs and disappeared into the building.
Ellen glanced at the small lockup to the left of the admin block, presumably where the captured Knife was being held. Surely it was out of the question that the Rangers would relinquish their prisoner to anyone who had demonstrated Cohen’s level of ineptitude.
The small knot of Militiawomen was attracting attention from the Rangers. Green and gray clad figures were gathering around the perimeter of the parade ground. Ellen did not need to see their faces to know they were vastly more amused than intimidated. Closer at hand, the four patrolwomen were directing their own suspicious looks at her. At last, Penny Rambaldi maneuvered around the edge of the group to Ellen’s side.
“So, what’s all this about?” Penny did not appear hostile.
“How much do you know already?”
“Diddly squat.”
Ellen paused for a second, considering what she should say. Cohen, possibly by oversight, had not ordered her to keep the details secret from the rest of the Militia. Yet Ellen did not want to implicate herself more than she already had, in case word got back to Cohen. With luck, the lieutenant would never find out that she was the one who had passed on the letter from the informant.
“Last night, the Rangers got word that the gang who stole all the sheep would be picking up supplies in town. They staked out the warehouse and commandeered me to help them.”
“Wow. So this prisoner, that’s where they captured her?”
“Yes.”
“Do we know her? Or anyone else in the gang?”
“I didn’t recognize her, and there were only two bandits making the pick-up. But Trish Eriksen was the other one. She got killed.”
“Right.” Penny drew the word out into an exclamation of enlightenment. “I heard she’d died. So it was part of the same thing?”
“Yes.”
“When I got the news, I’d assumed she’d finally come out worse in one of her brawls.” Penny did not sound upset.
“She tried to escape. She had a knife and went for a Ranger standing in her way.”
“She always was shit stupid. I guess we owe the Ranger a drink.”
Ellen could not bring herself to say more. The image rose before her, of Trish’s face, staring at the sky. The other three patrolwomen had been listening intently. They now exchanged muttered comments among themselves.
Della Murango was looking thoughtful. “Does this tie in with Chris getting stabbed, do you know?”
Ellen nodded. “It’s the same lot. It’s the Eastford Butcher and her gang, the ones who call themselves the Knives. They’ve spread out our way.”
Jude McCray and Zar Thorensen were visibly shaken by the news, but nobody seemed completely astounded.
Penny kicked at the dry ground. She looked as if she was toying with a number of responses, evaluating their wisdom. “Yeah. You know, I’d wondered about that.”
The door of the administration building opened and Cohen and Terrie emerged, looking unhappy. Ellen was not surprised. Had Jake Cohen seriously thought she stood a chance of achieving anything other than making the Militia look stupid? However, there was grimness in Terrie’s expression that spoke of more than mere hurt pride.
“Are they going to hand over the prisoner, ma’am?” Jude was the one to ask the pointless question.
Cohen drew a deep breath and pursed her lips in an aggrieved expression. “They can’t. Apparently she died of her injuries an hour ago.”
*
Chris Sanchez was looking far more like her old self. The color was back in her face and she moved with a trace of her former precision. However, the injured sergeant was still clearly not at full strength, although she refused help as she hobbled around her kitchen, making tea.
Outside, afternoon sunlight danced over the trees in the yard. Ellen sat at the table next to open window shutters. She was pleased for the chance to discuss the recent events with Chris. She had been worried that Lieutenant Cohen would dock her off-duty time, by way of punishment. However, on returning to the station, Cohen had ignored her. Terrie had been more of an ordeal, assigning her the most unpopular tasks and subjecting her to a string of verbal abuse. But eventually, Ellen had been released, and was now facing her first evening off since the night in the White Swan with Valerie.
Ellen’s account ended just as the tea making was complete. Chris pushed the kettle to the back of the stove, picked up the two mugs, and then put them on the table.
“I thought Cohen would be harder on me, after the trouble I got in before. But she just shouted at me and didn’t even threaten me with anything.”
Chris laughed softly. “You’re really surprised?”
“Yes.”
“Jake Cohen has been staking everything on the hope that the problem will go away if she ignores it. She’s lost the bet. She knows HQ has been informed about what’s been going on here—or more like what’s not been going on. She’s in line to get her ass well and truly kicked. Her best chance is to take some of the credit for what you did, but she can’t do that if she’s in the process of bringing disciplinary charges against you for those very same actions.”
“Oh.” Ellen frowned. “Terrie was furious about me helping the Rangers.”
“Terrie will never let common sense get in the way of spite. And it isn’t her ass with the target on it.”
Ellen stared at her mug while running the ideas around in her head. “Do you think Terrie put her up to that nonsense at the Barracks, trying to get the prisoner?”
“Maybe, but Jake would probably have done it anyway.”
“Why? It was never going to work.”
“It was a long shot, but she had nothing to lose. HQ will send somebody to take charge here. It’d be better for Cohen if she could pass over the information gotten from the prisoner, rather than let Aitkin take all the glory.”
“What sort of information?”
“The location of the gang’s hideout, for starters.”
“I checked the cart. It wasn’t from Broken Hills Ranch. That one has new side boards.” Ellen dropped her eyes, aware she had been a little too eager.
“The gang could be using a farm as a front or they could have a hideout, somewhere in the Wildlands. It’s a shame the prisoner died.”
“Do you think she’s really dead? Some of the patrolwomen were wondering about it on the way back to the station.”
“Probably. Aitkin has no need to lie.”
Ellen drained the last of her tea. “It all gets a bit silly without you. Any idea when you’ll be back?”
“Do you miss me?”
“Lots.”
“I’m seeing Dr. Miller tomorrow. Hopefully she’ll clear me for desk duty. But don’t expect to see me pounding the beat before next month.” Chris was silent for a while, but then continued, this time with a teasing undercurrent to her voice. “So have you heard any more from your flirting farmer?”
“Um...we’ve met once, briefly.” Ellen felt her face burn. She would rather not confess to the
kiss while on duty. “And a neighbor dropped off a note at the station this morning. Hal’s going to be in the Three Barrels tonight and asked if I’d meet her there.”
“Are you going?”
Ellen ducked her head self-consciously. Hal had clearly remembered when she was going to be off duty and had not wanted to waste a day. Hal was most definitely interested in her. However, it was her own eagerness worrying Ellen. Images of Hal kept slipping into her head, sending her pulse racing and sending ripples through her stomach. Events that evening might move too far and too fast. The Eastford gang were working in Roadsend and Hal was not in the clear—far from it. Meeting her might be unwise, but Ellen could not help herself where Hal was involved.
“Yes.”
*
Ellen’s skin was still tingling from the visit to the town baths, her clothes were damp off the washing line, and her heart was pounding as she tried to look casual, strolling into the taproom of the Three Barrels Tavern. A few steps in, she stopped and looked around. The room was busy, but far from full. Outside, the sun was dropping. Weak bands of sunshine sliced through the windows, cutting the room into bands of light and dark, dazzling and cloaking by turns. Yet nerves rather than poor illumination were what gave Ellen the problem. She scanned the faces, and saw none of them.
Ellen took a breath, forcing her eyes to focus properly, when a voice at her shoulder said, “You decided to come, then? I was worried I’d scared you off.”
Ellen jumped and spun around. Hal stood behind her, hands on hips, grinning.
“I, er...” Ellen’s breath escaped in a sharp sigh. Her heart rate soared to a new high and her stomach bounced around like an overactive spring lamb, but she managed enough self-control to smile and string a few words together. “I don’t scare quite that easily.”
“Good.” Hal tilted her head toward a table, without breaking eye contact with Ellen. “I was sitting over there, and just about to get another drink. Can I buy you one?”
Ellen scrabbled for the purse on her belt. “Why don’t I get one for you?”
Hal laughed. “You can get the next round. I’ll buy these.”
Ellen slipped past her toward the table and sat, massaging her knees. On reflection, maybe it was not a bad idea for Hal to be the one standing at the bar. Ellen had the nasty suspicion that her own legs were about to give way. She clenched her teeth, trying to calm down.
The table was at the side of the room just to the right of the door, in an alcove formed by the high-backed seats. The position was good for spotting everyone who entered the tavern before they spotted you. That was why Hal had been able to sneak up behind her.
Hal returned from the bar, deposited the two tankards on the table, and then sat opposite. She took a sip of the beer and leaned back. Ellen was about to do likewise when she felt Hal’s ankles clamping on either side of hers. She looked up. Hal was smiling at her, mischievously challenging.
Ellen put her tankard down. “I usually wait for a second date before playing footsie.”
“Do you? So what happens on a first?”
“I was hoping for some small talk. To learn a bit about you.”
“Really?” Hal’s foot moved gently a few centimeters up and down Ellen’s calf, but then stilled. “Okay. I do that as well. What would you like to know about?”
“How about your family? Sisters, mothers?”
Hal laughed. “Oh, believe me, you don’t want to know about my family.” At Ellen’s determined look, Hal gave in and continued. “I’ve got two sisters. One younger. One older. My parents both work on Grandmas’ farm, down near Monday Market.”
“They’re sheep farmers?”
“Cattle. It’s the same general idea, but I’m having to pick up some new tricks.” Hal tilted her head to one side. “How about you? Were either of your parents Militiawomen?”
“No. My gene mother was a shepherd but she had an accident.”
“What sort of accident?”
“She was out riding alone and a mountain cat attacked her.”
“Was it straight out of hibernation?”
“I think so—still too groggy to know it couldn’t eat her. Mama Becky managed to kill it, but she got badly clawed and lost a lot of blood. She passed out. The other farm hands came and found her when her horse went back alone. She was in a coma for nine days. Mama Roz talks about never leaving her side.”
“You said was a shepherd. She didn’t make a full recovery?”
“She did from the cuts, but the dead cat had been lying on her. The healer reckons its blood must have seeped into Mom’s wounds. It wasn’t fatal, like if she’d eaten it, but the poison damaged all her muscles. Her heart as well. She can’t ride—can barely walk.”
“Shit.” Hal looked shocked. “Was this before or after you were born?”
“Before.”
“Do you have any sisters?”
“No. Mama Becky does what she can, but it’s really just what Mama Roz earns on the docks. It took them years to save up the imprinting fees. And once they had me to look after, they stood no chance of saving more money for the Temple. Of course, now there’s my wage coming in. But they’re too old to have another child.”
“Which one did you get your good looks from?”
Ellen grinned at the compliment. “Mostly my gene mother.”
“It would be such a shame if some thug were to flatten your nose. Why did you choose to become a Militiawoman?”
“It pays better than anything else I could do without a full apprenticeship.”
“Do you like the job?”
“Mostly.”
“I hear that you had a bit of trouble last night.”
Ellen’s head sunk as her mood dipped. “Yes.”
“And you don’t look as if you liked that bit of the job.”
“Somebody I knew got killed.”
“A friend?”
“No. I didn’t like her. She was one of the local thugs, but...” Ellen shrugged, struggling with the emotions. “I knew her.”
“How did she die?”
“She was raiding a warehouse with someone else. When we surrounded them, she attacked one of the Rangers. The Ranger came out best.”
“What happened to the other woman?”
“She was taken prisoner by the Rangers. But she was badly wounded. She died this morning.”
“In the infirmary?”
“At the Rangers’ barracks.”
Hal’s expression dipped into something more somber and the grip on Ellen’s ankles loosened before her grin returned. “Are you sure you want to do this small-talk thing? Wouldn’t you rather come sit beside me and fool around?”
The suggestion was very tempting. “I, er...”
The opening of the tavern door interrupted Ellen’s reply. Loud, excited voices drowned out all else as a score of Rangers stormed, or in some cases staggered across the room. Ellen recognized Valerie and her patrol comrades among them. The Rangers were in high spirits and this was clearly not the first tavern they had visited that evening.
Hal removed her feet from contact with Ellen’s and sat up straighter. She looked irritated by the noisy intrusion, as did several other patrons around the room. At least five of the Rangers were simultaneously shouting at the woman behind the bar, demanding service.
Valerie was tagged on at the back of the mob, but on spotting Ellen she wandered over. “Hey. How you doing?”
“Okay.”
Valerie looked expectantly at Hal.
Ellen took the hint. “Oh, this is Ahalya Drennen. She’s the new forewoman at Broken Hills.” Ellen indicated between them. “And this is Valerie Bergstrom, who used to be in the Militia here.”
“Hi.” Valerie smiled at Hal, who nodded in reply. She turned back to Ellen. “I hear you did well last night.”
“I just did what I was told. How about you? I didn’t see you there.”
“My patrol were on horseback a few streets away. We were all set to chase them down if t
hey escaped.”
“Right.” Ellen looked at the scrum by the bar, rowdy, even by the standards of Rangers. “Your gang seem happy. Is something up?”
“Oh yeah. We’ve got some real excitement lined up.”
“What?”
“Can’t say now. But you’ll know all about it when it’s over.”
“You’re onto the gang?”
Valerie held her hands up. “It’s all secret. Wait just a bit longer.” She smiled. “But don’t worry. We’ll sort all your problems out for you.” A shout from the bar made her turn. Mel Ellis was holding up a full tankard, with a clear signal that it was for Valerie. “Catch you later.” She returned to join her comrades.
“Arrogant bitches.”
The tone as much as the words startled Ellen. She stared at Hal. “Don’t you like the Rangers?”
Hal took a moment to reconsider. “Yeah, well. They do a good job. But don’t you think that they’re a bit too full of themselves? All that ‘we’ll sort out your problems’ bullshit.”
“If they sort out the problem, they can be as arrogant as they like, in my book.” Ellen smiled to show that she did not want to seriously disagree with Hal. “What do you think is up with them?”
“I could make a guess.”
“What?”
“They’ve learned something. Probably from the prisoner they took last night.”
“She’s dead.”
“There’s no saying how she died.”
Ellen frowned. “What do you mean?”
“They had her for several hours. They’d have been trying to get her to spill what she knew. I’d guess they got their information, but somebody was a bit too vigorous in trying to thump the last few details out of her.”
Ellen sat back, shocked. “You think she was beaten into talking?”
“It fits.”
“She was badly injured before she was captured.”
“So it wouldn’t take much to overdo the interrogation.”
At the bar, the Rangers were embarking on a traditional drinking song that was long, repetitive, and obscene. Ellen slumped against the backboard of the chair. The flirtatious mood between her and Hal had evaporated, killed by the arrival of the Rangers. She swallowed the last of her drink. “Do you want to move on to another tavern?”
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