It wasn't hard to guess where Ross's mind was right now.
"Sharif's spirit is drifting on the wind today," she told him quietly. "Just think, he can travel anywhere he wishes. The whole of Banshee lies before him."
Ross was silent. Another friend lost to this war. He watched a bird fly overhead; its powerful wings carried it overland and out toward the desert plains where Sharif made his home. Where it would take Ross several days to travel that distance, even in a Prowler, the bird was already there. He murmured, "May soft winds speed you on your journey."
Then Ross took a deep breath and regarded Debbi who was watching the goings on in town with a practiced gaze, giving him a private moment. He put his hand over hers as she leaned on her cane.
Debbi glanced over at him, glad to see he was okay. She had been worried that the loss of another friend would have cast him back into despair. But he seemed at peace. She had a feeling a lot of it had to do with her.
She offered, "Want to go shake down that caravan over there? I have a feeling they're sportin' things they shouldn't."
Ross shook his head and released her hand. "Nah. You go ahead. Have some fun. I have a mountain of paperwork I want to dump on Miller."
"You ever going to ease up on him?"
"I don't see why."
"He's still hurting."
"So are we."
"Well, one of those cats nearly had him as its personal kitty toy."
Ross clucked with mock sympathy. "You'd think that would be enough, wouldn't you?" Ross lifted an eyebrow. "It ain't."
"Someday soon though, huh?"
"Maybe. Right now, the most compassion I can muster is giving him a desk job for a while."
Debbi considered that. "At least he's not on animal control. He'll appreciate that. Maybe." She stepped off the curb. "See ya 'round."
"Later, Dallas."
Ross watched her go. Even with a limp, she looked damn good. He rubbed a calloused hand roughly over his lips.
Debbi maneuvered down the street, passing the caravan she had pointed out to Ross. It wasn't doing anything suspicious; she had only made that up to intrigue Ross, desperate to engage him in ordinary Ranger activities. But Ross hadn't needed it. Harassing Miller was just as good for his soul as haranguing caravan bosses.
So onward she went toward the Depot. It was part of her normal routine, one that she was eager to get back to. Each duty she undertook made her life that much more ordinary.
She whistled as she walked. It almost sounded like Red River Valley. Or at least it would have if she could carry a tune.
A chair crashed out of Mo's window right in front of her. Glass scattered across the boardwalk at her feet; the shards were almost melodious in their pandemonium.
A sigh escaped her. Yup, things were definitely back to normal.
She pushed her way in through the batwing doors. Mo's typical chaos greeted her. It felt good. A monumental brawl was in full swing. A beer glass almost collided with her face. She leaned back and it brushed past her spitting warm beer across her cheek. It smashed into the wall behind her.
Stew and Ringo were there already, trying to put a halt to the fight, without success. Miller flew past her and collapsed in the puddle of beer "Hiya, Miller."
He lifted a weak hand and slumped unconscious.
"Dallas!" Mo's head popped over the bar.
"Mo! How ya doin'!" Debbi greeted him.
"How do you think I'm doin'? My place is getting trashed!"
"Uh-huh. Sure is."
"Well do something!"
An easy smile played over her lips. "Get a beer ready for me and you have a deal."
"Done!"
Stew spotted her, and he and Ringo came over to flank her. She nodded her thanks, grateful to have Stew at her side no matter how small the fracas. Taking careful stock of the situation, she scanned the barroom for the epicenter of the disturbance, the place where the mayhem was the worst. It was easy to spot. A tall blond miner was wailing on a short black-haired caravaneer. It was the usual thing.
With Stew's assistance, she climbed up on the bar, to get a better view of the chaos. Placing two fingers in her mouth she let loose with an ear-shattering whistle. It pierced through everyone. Even Miller stirred on the floor. The very floorboards centered over the tannis bedrock vibrated and could be felt through the legs of everyone standing. The room fell into stunned silence.
"That's better," she announced loudly for all to hear. "Now, I officially call this fight a draw. Anyone who thinks this fight was over a damn serious complaint can come with me to the Ranger office and we can discuss it at length in a cell." She looked around for any takers. There were none. She didn't think there would be.
"Great. Now steady on boys. The drinks are on me." A stampede started for the bar. Debbi hopped off the counter. Her beer was standing there as promised by Mo. She nodded her thanks to the barkeep and tossed him some currency to pay for the round.
"Damn, Dallas. You did it without shooting up my ceiling or breaking my antler chandelier." Mo wiggled a finger in his ear as Stew glared at him. "Well, except for a broken eardrum maybe. That's a hell of a whistle you got there."
Debbi laughed and gulped down her frothy mold. It tasted like ambrosia after so long.
Ringo said, "You're getting along pretty well without the cane now."
Debbi spun the cane with her fingers and almost whacked several patrons. "I've always been a fast healer."
The kid added, "You heard Stew is going away, right?"
Debbi looked up in shock. "What?"
Stew exhaled with exasperation. This obviously wasn't his choice of a time to tell her. "I'm . . . uh . . . taking long patrol down south for the season. Now that Quantrill's gone, the Reapers will be out again."
"Just for the season? Right?" Debbi watched Stew's cold, blue eyes, which were unusually distant, and wouldn't meet her gaze. "You're coming back to Temptation? Aren't you?"
The former priest hesitated. He pulled his hat from where it hung between his shoulder blades. Stew leaned on the bar and rotated the brim of the black hat between his fingers. "You know, they need Colonial Rangers in the south. Ghost Rock City is wide open. There's no law down there now."
"Stew, there's no town down there now. We need you here."
Stew stared at the floor and shook his head. "You and Ross have it under control."
Debbi said softly, "No, Ross won't approve it. There's too much going on up here. Hellstromme is building. Traffic is booming. And you've been in Temptation longer than anyone other than Ross." She took the hat out of Stew's hands and stared straight into his subdued face when he turned to look at her. "The bottom line is, I don't want to do this job without you here."
The fair-haired Ranger remained silent.
Debbi slapped the hat against his chest. "Look, if you're not back by the end of the season, I'll come get you. You know I will, so don't make me."
Stew nodded, more to himself, and then gave her a wan smile. "Alright."
Ringo laughed. "Great! We can't break up the gang. Dallas. Stew. Ringo. Even Miller. We're like a crew. An outfit."
Recovering some of his quiet good nature, Stew jutted his chin at the bleary-eyed Miller who lingered on the floor near the door. "Helluva an outfit we got here."
Debbi chuckled and set her empty glass on the bar. She made her way over to Miller and knelt beside him. She could smell the liquor over the hair tonic. The mix almost made her eyes water.
He smirked with groggy eyes. "Did you hear that train come through here?"
"Sure did." She hauled Miller to his feet and steered him to the door. "You were just in here getting a drink and got caught up in the frenzy, right?"
"Sounds good."
"Glad to hear it." Aiming him for the exit, she gave him a slight shove outside. "Better get to headquarters quick. Ross is looking for you."
"Oh, crap."
Miller staggered and ran for the office in an awkward stumble, almost getting crush
ed beneath a wagon in his haste. He didn't even notice Ross standing in the shadows just outside the saloon.
Ross ignored Miller and instead watched Debbi as she chatted with Stew and Ringo, surrounded by the people of Temptation, at least the hard drinking ones. A corner of his mouth quirked up into a grin. There was no doubt the town was hers now. Lock, stock, and barrel. The mantle had been passed. He felt no remorse, only pride. He was old school, and his time and his brand were no longer the way. It belonged to people like Debbi, brash and impetuous and filled with a love for this planet that transcended common law.
Ross knew he'd be there for her, his gun at her side. He trusted her instincts. And life would certainly never be dull.
What kind of a damn shepherd would he have made anyhow?
Debbi finally caught sight of him standing just outside the saloon door. He tipped his hat to her and sauntered on down the boardwalk.
Debbi grinned.
All was as it should be.
Table of Contents
Book I: The Horror Lords
Prelude
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Book II: The Undead War
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Book III: Fraternity of the Grave
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Banshee Screams Page 78