“I’ll get him!” Ellen darted past Caleb into the smoking building before he even realized she had followed him. Part of him could have sobbed with relief, but both fire and storm howled inside him, wanting to destroy her and everything else they could reach. A long moment passed as the silent war raged, but finally she reappeared, half carrying an adolescent Indian boy.
They both staggered and fell at Caleb’s feet, and he could do nothing more than look at them, his fists clenched with the effort of controlling all the power inside him.
Ellen looked up, her eyes huge in a face marred with soot and dirt. “Agent Marcus . . .”
“Run.” His own breath burned his tongue. “Run for your lives!” Because he knew the power had to come out. It was killing him, and it had to escape. Soon.
The schoolteacher grabbed the boy’s hand, dragging him until he found his feet, and the pair of them stumbled off through the smoke and the haze. But there were others, men he’d knocked unconscious himself, not innocents perhaps, but no one that deserved to die in the cataclysm that was coming.
“They’re gone, Caleb.” Ernst appeared out of the dense smoke, once again in the form of a small furry jackalope. “The children are in the lake. It’s all right to let it go now.”
“You should go, too.” In a few more moments, it would be done, regardless of his choice.
“No. I stay with you. Always.” The creature huddled against one of Caleb’s smoking boots, emitting his tiny chirping purr. “We’re together, always.”
Ernst was here at last. He was here, and everything would be all right. Caleb had to believe that. Tears streamed from the Peacemaker’s eyes as he raised his gaze to the heavens. Somewhere above the smoke and the clouds, stars were twinkling over the prairie. He could almost see them.
With a soft exhale, he let go.
For a moment, the world was utterly silent. Even Ernst’s purring seemed to pause, waiting for the next beat of a great and immense heart.
Then all at once, it exploded. A blast wave of fire and wind spiraled outward, flattening every building in sight, destroying the wooden fence, melting sand into warped, cracked glass. On and on it went, obliterating all sound, all order, in a torrent of sheer primal destruction. A secondary explosion sounded, distant and puling by comparison, as the transports in the livery went up in a billowing ball of arcane fire.
And even knowing it meant his death, there was part of Caleb that scrabbled to hang on to a shred of that immense power, part of him that did not want to let go. For a brief, blasphemous moment, he had been as a god, and he was loath to let it slip through his fingers.
The storm and inferno would not be contained any longer, and he felt them both shrieking with glee as they escaped, leaving him hollow and hurting. In the back of his mind, he knew that he’d pitched forward onto his face in the dirt, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
The last thing he saw was Ernst’s brown eyes peering into his with concern. The last thing he heard was a woman’s voice, humming softly.
Chapter 17
Rain returned to the Kansas plains. The first tiny droplets met a swift and steamy death in the the raging wildfire that swept outward from the A-bar-W Ranch. But sheer numbers prevailed, and ultimately the rain beat down the flames, leaving acres of charred earth behind.
For seven days, it rained. The parched earth drank up the water until it could hold no more, then gradually turned to a thick soup that clung to all feet, hooves, and wheels that braved the swampy mess.
Caleb stood on the church porch, out of the rain, and watched Hope go about its daily business. He nodded hello to those who bothered to walk out this far, but there weren’t many. The novelty of the situation had worn off, and the curious found the constant rain too daunting to go out in search of some undiscovered tidbit of information.
The Peacemaker rubbed his left arm, which was still in its sling, per Dr. Elm’s instructions. The sling even matched the blue denim shirt Caleb had been given. He cut quite the fashionable figure. The shoulder itself ached abominably, but the good doctor had declared the wound clean and even Caleb could tell it was healing.
“Any word yet?” Ernst leapt up to the rail, balancing there with uncanny grace. His broken antler had repaired itself in one of his many shape-shifts and now only sparked idly.
“We’ll know the moment they get here. An off-schedule stage is big news in a place like this.” Caleb’s stomach growled, and he grimaced. “And we’re due for lunch, if Ellen wants to brave the muck today.”
“I hope Teddy sends some whiskey over.” The jackalope smacked his lips in anticipation.
“We’re technically on duty, you know.”
The familiar snorted. “You’re on duty. I’m just the pet.”
“Is our prisoner awake?” In a town with no jail, the church had seemed the only logical place to lock up Abel Warner. Shackled and cuffed except when taking care of bodily necessities, he’d remained isolated from the citizens of Hope. Most days he spent staring into space, though Caleb had offered him books to pass his time.
“Mm-hmm. Seems a bit feisty today, too. Maybe he knows today’s the day.”
“Maybe.” Or maybe the man had just recovered enough to gather his wits and start mentally preparing his defense. No doubt, he’d have one.
Warner might be able to wish away the kidnapping charges as a misunderstanding, but he was going to have a hard time explaining the attempted murder of a federal officer. And with Jimmy and Ellen’s eyewitness accounts, they might even be able to locate the men who had beaten Hector.
All of Warner’s men had disappeared the night of the fire. It seemed likely that a few had been caught in the inferno, but in other areas of the prairie, there were a few islands of untouched grass, as if someone had created a shield there and sheltered through the raging fire.
Whoever it had been, wherever they’d gone, once the warrants and posters went up, the Peacemakers could hunt for them in any U.S. territory. Their only chance would be to flee south, into Mexico, or west into the mountains and Indian lands.
Hector himself seemed to be recovering, slowly but surely. Dr. Elm credited Ernst’s intervention with a great deal of the patient’s success, which seemed to embarrass the plucky jackalope. Caleb couldn’t recall ever seeing his friend so disconcerted before. When asked, Ernst would say only, “I’m supposed to be the familiar, not the hero.”
“Agent Marcus!” The scrawny figure of Jimmy Welton looked comical as he tried to slog through the muddy street at a full run. “Agent Marcus, they’re coming!” By the time he squelched to a halt at the foot of the stairs, he was gasping for breath and covered to the thighs in brown Kansas sludge. “They . . . Brett saw them . . . ’bout a mile out on the road. . . .”
Caleb smiled. “Thank you, Jimmy. When they arrive, can you please escort them out here?”
“Yessir! I can do that!” Jimmy craned his neck to see past the Peacemaker. “They really gonna take him away?”
“That’s why they came.” Thanks to Sven and Jimmy, a garbled distress telegram had gone out around the time Caleb leveled the A-bar-W. Only after the Peacemaker regained consciousness had he been able to send another message, updating his superiors and requesting a prisoner transport. “I’ll get Mr. Warner ready. Thank you, Jimmy.”
The urchin ran back toward the center of town as Caleb turned to go inside. “Mr. Warner, your ride is nearly here.”
The rancher’s shackle chains rattled faintly. “I hope you realize that this will be a farce, Agent Marcus. You have absolutely no proof of any charges, and it is your word against mine.”
Caleb bent to unlock the chains from the bench. “That’s for a judge to decide. In the meantime, you’ll be on your way to Kansas City and out of my hair.”
“I have friends, Agent Marcus. Powerful friends. Just remember that.”
“I don’t think y
ou’re in any position to be making threats, Mr. Warner.” He tugged the prisoner to his feet, careful to keep his own hands away from the nullstone cuffs around Warner’s wrists.
“And we’ll see just what your superiors have to say about you betraying your own kind to the red menace.”
“Is that truly what you think I did?”
“Isn’t it? You aided and abetted a magical attack on my ranch. Such things will not be seen in a good light back east.”
Caleb ignored him. That very same worry had been plaguing his thoughts since that night, but he didn’t dare let Warner know. In truth, he hadn’t done anything that would technically count as betrayal. Yet. But the future was wide open, and he wondered just how far he could stretch the boundaries before they snapped back on him.
One of the sources of his unease appeared in the doorway as he herded Warner toward it. Mary Catherine had abandoned her calico dresses and high blouses in favor of returning to her native garb, leather covering her from neck to toe. Her black hair, with a few strands of gray showing at the temples, was now plaited into two braids, and one feather dangled against her right cheek.
Her dark eyes fixed on Warner with a coldness even Caleb could feel, before she looked to the Peacemaker instead. “The stage has arrived.”
“I heard. Thank you, Ma— River Falls.” She had also taken up her real name, and she spit in a most unladylike fashion whenever someone called her Mary Catherine.
“Once he is delivered . . .” She ground out the word he as if it left a foul taste in her mouth. “You are departing, yes?”
“Probably. Tomorrow, surely.”
She nodded. “I will pack, then.” In a whirl of leather and beads, she was gone.
Warner smirked. “Got yourself a squaw now, hmm?”
“Keep moving.” The situation with Mary Catherine—River Falls—made Caleb uncomfortable. She had made it clear that she was following him from now on, as repayment for saving her young son’s life. The boy himself had been spirited away by Crying Elk’s people sometime during Caleb’s bout with unconsciousness, but for her crimes against their laws, they had refused to take the woman. Her self-assigned penance was to haunt Caleb’s path, it seemed, whether he liked it or not.
She had also made it very clear that should he attempt to touch her, she would make him suffer. It was not to be that kind of relationship (for which he was honestly relieved). He got the impression she intended to watch over him as fiercely as his own mother had ever done.
Others wouldn’t see it that way, however. He worried about her, and how other whites would react to her presence in the towns he had to visit. He held on to the hope that he could convince her own people to take her back before they hit the next stop on the circuit.
A small procession was making its way through the muddy streets when he and Warner stepped out on the porch. Most of them were townsfolk; insatiable curiosity brought out gawkers even in the dismal downpour. But Peacemaker stars graced four long coats, and Caleb recognized the man in front, even with his face hidden by the downturned brim of his hat. If nothing else, the large spotted cat padding at his side gave him away.
“Graeme.” Caleb found himself smiling, and a sense of relief released the tension in his shoulders. Deep down, he’d been afraid his longtime friend wouldn’t come.
“Caleb.” The tall Peacemaker stepped up on the porch to shake hands. “God almighty, could you have picked somewhere farther out in the backside of nowhere?”
“Why, Hope is positively metropolitan.” He glanced down at the feline familiar with a polite nod. “Tan, good to see you.”
The cat merely sat on his haunches and groomed the mud from his spotted fur with an expression of distaste. Tan had always been more reserved than the more joyful Ernst, a reversed reflection of his partner’s personality. The jackalope hopped down from the porch rail to join the other familiar, and the two quickly put their heads together, communing in their own silent way.
Graeme took his hat off and ran a hand through his graying hair. Caleb frowned mentally. They were the same age. When had Graeme started to look so old?
“Is this the prisoner?”
“Yessir. Mr. Abel Warner.” Caleb moved his hands so Graeme could fasten his own cuffs on Warner’s wrists.
“And the charges?” With deft fingers, Graeme removed Caleb’s cuffs and shackles and handed them back.
“Thirteen counts of kidnapping, and one count of attempted murder of a federal peace officer. He is also implicated in the savage beating of a man here in town, as well as deliberately nulling most of the children.” He could have easily added a violation of the Aboriginal Peace Accords of 1874, but he didn’t want to explain about the mine. If the government knew there was gold up there, there’d be no keeping them out of the mountains. Crying Elk’s people would be extinct in a matter of months.
Graeme motioned for the other Peacemakers to take custody of the prisoner. “If you could escort Mr. Warner to the stage, I’ll collect the paperwork and be right there.”
The watching townsfolk seemed torn between following the prisoner back to the stage and staying to watch the two Peacemakers talk. Caleb solved it for them by leading Graeme inside the church and firmly shutting the door. Tan and Ernst slipped in at the last moment and resumed their conversation under one of the pews.
Graeme looked around the rustic church for a few moments before turning his gaze on Caleb. “You scared the hell out of me, you know that? I didn’t know if you were alive or dead for about twenty-four hours.”
“I’m sorry for that. In all honesty, I didn’t expect to walk out of that.” If it hadn’t been for the two women coming back for him, dragging his unconscious body into the lake, he wouldn’t have. He owed both Ellen and River Falls his life.
“You always wait for reinforcements, Caleb. You know that.”
“There was no time. He had hostages.”
“And you could have gotten them killed, too.” There were lines on Graeme’s face when he frowned. Being a director of the Federal Peacemakers was obviously wearing on him. “I got your first telegram, asking for more information on Warner.”
“What did you find out?”
“Nothing useful. He has some influential contacts in various places. What did you expect me to find?”
Caleb sighed, leaning against a pew. “I don’t know. Something to justify my gut instinct, I guess. Preferably before all hell broke loose.”
“Well, there’s nothing. And even if this comes to trial, I doubt there’ll be anything. His contacts are significant, Caleb.”
Caleb blinked. “He tried to kill me, Graeme. They shot my transport out from under me, then staked me out in the prairie and left me for dead.”
“Prove it. You have witnesses? Testimonies? Anything but your word against his?” There was a look in Graeme’s eyes, almost pleading for Caleb to say yes.
“A Peacemaker’s word was always enough.”
“I don’t think it will be, in this case. I mean, you won’t even tell me why he tried to kill you.”
“Because he could? Because I wouldn’t sit in his pocket like a good pet? How do I know?” It hurt, keeping the truth about the mine from Graeme. But at this moment, Caleb couldn’t be certain if he was talking to his friend or his superior. And the worst part was, Graeme knew he was holding back. “You don’t believe me.”
Graeme eyed Caleb for a long moment before nodding and putting his hat back on. “Of course I believe you. I just don’t know that it’s going to be enough.” Tan, at some unspoken command, left Ernst and came to heel at Graeme’s side again. “Have you filled out all the transfer paperwork?”
Caleb handed over the thick sheaf of papers. “There are testimonies in there from the parents of the children and from the schoolteacher he held. I have my report in there as well.” When Graeme reached to take them, Caleb held on for
a moment. “I expect to get a telegram from you, telling me when to report to Kansas City to testify at his trial, with enough time for me to actually arrive.”
The senior Peacemaker tugged the folded papers free and tucked them inside his duster. “I’ll keep you posted. I promise.”
“I also have requests in there for warrants on three men on assault and attempted murder, and I have two eyewitnesses if we can apprehend them and bring them to trial.”
Graeme shook his head. “You don’t start small, do you?”
“We don’t get paid to look the other way.” Caleb caught his friend’s sleeve as the man turned to go. “Are you all right, Graeme? You look . . . worn.”
Graeme nodded. “Was just a long trip out here on the stage, is all. I’m fine.” His familiar slipped out the door ahead of him into the steady rain.
One advantage of using arcane-powered haulers instead of real horses was that rest was not required. The Peacemakers put Warner in the stage and immediately turned it around to head back east. The townsfolk dispersed now that the spectacle was gone, and Caleb stood alone in the drizzle watching the stage disappear into the prairie, stroking Ernst’s soft fur as the creature purred in his arms.
Gradually, he became aware that someone had lingered nearby. He turned to find Jimmy Welton watching him from the steps of the general store. The boy’s pants were still splattered with mud up to the thighs, but someone had captured him long enough to put a clean shirt on him and comb his unruly hair.
He glared at Caleb accusingly. “You’re leaving now, aren’t you?”
The Peacemaker nodded, stepping up on the sidewalk. “Tomorrow morning, probably. I’m late for my next stop on the circuit.”
“But what if those men come back? The ones who hurt Mr. Pratt?”
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