"A'ight."
Ashton forced himself to straighten his back and straighten his hat, and then climbed up to the second-floor office and followed them in. The man who had called out to him was sitting behind a desk, and then turned back to Hewitt and Samson.
"You want me to go get a coffee or something?"
"That would be great, Tom."
"Will do. I'll be right downstairs."
"We'll be done here in a little while. You can go out to lunch, and then when you're done, lock up and you've got the day to yourself."
"Thank you, sir."
The man left quietly.
"Don't think too badly of him, Ash. Samson put him up to it."
"I know," Ashton said, unable to get the surly tone out of his voice.
"Take a seat, let's talk shop."
Ashton pulled up a chair. "Where do you want me to start?"
"At the beginning. We'll ask questions when we need something clarified."
"Alright, well. I got a message, a little over a week ago, saying to come down to a restaurant to meet a man about a job."
"Wait—one thing. What happened to all your fancy suits?"
Ashton rolled his eyes and continued with the story. He left out the parts where he'd gotten closer to Cora than he should have. If he let that part out, then they'd have never let him live it down. The youngest, the least trained, and now the one who hadn't been able to keep his hands off a client.
"So next question. What are we dealing with here, exactly?"
"I don't rightly know," Ashton said softly. "At least a half-mile radius, but I think it's wider. I think it's a hell of a lot wider, since I was looking for him and I sure couldn't see him, not even when the train went down. There was the valley, sure, but the rest was pretty flat."
"So he's better at hiding than you think."
"I saw him, though. I saw him when he took Cora."
"Maybe he's able to choose when he wants to be seen. Maybe it had something to do with taking her."
"Might be, but then why ride the dust? And what could stop a bullet putting him down?"
Hewitt had taken his jacket back off after a while, hung over the back of his chair. Ashton could tell right away that it wasn't an incredibly nice one, but in a pinch it probably did well enough. He pulled a comb out of his pocket to push his hair back again, where it had fallen forward a little ways.
"Has it occurred to you?"
"I don't know. I don't want to claim it's the one we're lookin' for if I can't be sure."
"That's good. But you don't think you can take it by yourself?"
"I don't know it to a certainty, but the old man didn't say anything about Devils like this'n."
"No, I suppose he didn't," Hewitt agreed.
Samson let a loud breath out of his nose. "So what's the plan, then?"
"The plan, as far as I know it, was that we go back to Utah and the three of us end it."
"The three of us, specifically? Oh, Ashton. You do care."
Ash shot him a look intended to wound, and Samson gave an exaggerated apologetic look in return. Ash made another mental note to ignore his shenanigans. He was getting too old to be acting like a child, but being around Samson had always done this to him.
"Are you going to help me or not? Because I'm going back, either way."
"Oh, we're coming," Hewitt confirmed. "None of Peters's boys would leave you out to dry. You're our baby brother, after all."
Ash wanted to retort, but he swallowed it when he saw that for Hewitt Burke, it was supposed to be a compliment.
"Yeah, man. Just trying to decide whether or not to bring out the big guns."
"Assume yes, and then if we don't need 'em, we won't use 'em. But we're burning daylight, and the next stage back to Chicago leaves in forty minutes."
Samson pushed himself up from the desk. "Then why didn't you say so? Come on, let's get going."
He took his coat off the rack. He didn't wear a jacket like Hewitt, and certainly not like Ash. But somehow the coat he did wear, heavy with a thick woolen collar, fit the image Ash had always had of Samson over the years.
He waited a moment for the two to pack a bag, but only a few short moments. Ashton was the first out the door, passing by Tom on the way down the steps. "I think you're going to have a few days off. Bosses are going out of town."
"Oh, I know how it is," the man said. "You keep them safe, you hear? We need men like those two."
The comment hit Ashton harder than it should have. "I know."
Tom gave him a tired smile. "They'll make it hard on you."
"I'll make it hard on them, too."
"That's how it's always been. Good luck with whatever's going on."
"Thanks."
Then Ashton kept walking until he was outside the door. Hewitt and Samson came out together and Ash kicked himself off the wall.
"This way."
He started off, tracing the route he'd followed to get here.
"Ashton, slow down. We know the way to the train station."
Ash frowned. He supposed they would. He hadn't really thought about it. He didn't slow down, though. Things were finally moving again, and he had to get back to Cora before something bad happened. Something he couldn't undo.
Twenty-Eight
Cora woke up to the smell of food cooking on the stove. She pushed herself up from the bed and took her time getting dressed. The place was absolutely heavenly in every way, she thought, so she might as well take her time with getting up if she could afford it. And somehow, she knew, Enoch wouldn't put her into a rush.
Not so soon after.
She had a few days to recover from the funeral, but it seemed as if it was never quite enough. She still felt the pain every damn day, the questions still burned.
Somehow Cora had hoped that burying her mother, giving her a proper, Christian burial would help. Like it would make her hurt go away, or something. But it didn't, and she knew that she shouldn't have expected it.
She should have expected it to hurt like it was hurting. But somehow that hadn't been how she had thought at the time. Like maybe this was going to be the time that she was able to dodge the pain that she knew was going to come.
She sucked in a breath and forced herself not to think about it. She wasn't going to gain anything by being morose; all she'd do was get herself upset. The other wives, they'd all been putting on a strong face for her. She knew they hurt, she could see it when she looked deep in their eyes.
But they were all smiles when the time came, and she appreciated it but it was strange and a little uncomfortable admitting that she wasn't sure how to respond to it.
Maybe in time, she would understand, but right now it was too much. So she would let herself feel whatever she was feeling. Ashton would be back in a few days, and then she could go. It was too dangerous out there to go by herself, but he was taking his sweet time in getting back to her.
Enoch backed through the door with a tray full of food, set it on her bedside table.
"We were worried about you. If you want to eat in your room…"
"No, I'll come out and join you. I just needed a minute."
"Well, the coffee's hot, and you can take as long as you need."
"I'll only be a moment."
She looked in the mirror over the armoire a second. Her hair was smooth, it had a good shine to it. She looked good, nothing out of place. Whatever happened, she was ready.
She followed Enoch out as he carried her food back to the kitchen. A long table took up one side of the massive room, seating for twenty or more, and almost half of the table was full, everyone crowded around one side to be closer to Enoch. He had a space open, though, right by his left side.
That had been her mother's seat, and once her mother couldn't get out of bed, they had left it open. Now that Cora was there, nobody was going to argue about her taking Carolyn's seat. Not so soon after what had happened.
They ate in a comfortable silence. Nobody spoke at the
meals, at least once food was on the table. But Cora didn't mind that. It seemed appropriate, somehow, with how old-fashioned Enoch was, that they should eat in solemn contemplation.
He had the most to eat of all of them, but he was only done a moment later than Cora. He stood as he finished, and Cora noticed that the other women were all finished, as well. He gathered up the plates and took hers last of all.
Harriett, the eldest of the wives, took over scrubbing them clean. Enoch smiled at everyone, Cora last of all. "Cora, do you mind if we talk for a moment?"
One of the girls spoke softly. "Does that mean it's time—"
Enoch gave her a look that silenced her immediately.
"Sorry."
He smiled at her. "It's okay. She's not ready, yet. Be patient."
Cora followed him out of the kitchen, into the sitting room. She noticed that, as far as she could tell, none of the wives followed. They respected his privacy, and they respected hers, as well. Very respectful, she thought.
That was how Cora had always imagined a husband and wife should be. If they were going to be together then they should trust each other.
"Cora, I didn't want to offend you by bringing this up sooner."
She raised her eyebrow. "I don't know what you mean. Offend me?"
"You know that I'm not…"
"Not human?"
He gave her a sad smile. "Exactly right."
"I knew."
"Well…" he took a breath, like he was trying to get the gumption up to say something that was hard to approach. "There are things I can do."
"Like jumping ten miles to your house?"
He smiled. "That was only a little jump, nothing too much. I'm sorry if it seemed as if I was showing off."
She breathed out a soft laugh.
"Well, what if I told you that your mother didn't have to—to be…"
"You can bring people back to life?"
"I can," he confirmed. "I know it might seem… improper. And I will respect your wishes if you don't want me to."
"She'll be alright again?"
"As healthy as she's ever been. Healthier, even."
A little doubt lingered in the back of Cora's mind. A niggling question she decided to ask. "Why didn't you save her, then?"
He took a moment to respond, unable to hide the sadness on his face.
"Was that—should I not have asked that?"
"No," Enoch answered, trying to draw himself back up into a composed attitude but not quite succeeding. "It was a fair question. I would have, if I could. I tried. The Lord has given me the power of a great many miracles, Cora, and I tried working all of them."
"What makes you think that it will work this time?"
"I'm an old man, Cora. I'm not young, like you, or even like your mother. I've been walking this country since near three-hundred years ago, and I just don't have the energy I used to."
"So what does that mean for my mother?"
"I need energy. I need someone to let me use their energy to work my miracles. If you had been here only a little sooner, enough time to get to know me, then maybe I could have asked you for this. But I couldn't. It wouldn't have been right."
"What would I have to do?"
"If we were to become—I'm sorry. This is too forward."
Cora grit her teeth together for a moment. The whole conversation confused her, and she didn't like being confused. She liked being left in the dark even less. More than that, though, Cora couldn't abandon her mother in her time of need, not if it was within Cora's power to save her.
"Tell me what I would have to do."
"Well, the most painless way to extract that energy is to—"
Cora blushed as she realized what he was asking her for. Then she blushed harder, suddenly realizing exactly what she had been asking her.
"I wouldn't do that to you, of course. You're my wife's daughter. I love my wives, and I wouldn't want to do anything improper with someone who I wasn't married to."
"No, of course not," Cora agreed, her words coming out faster than she intended.
"But if we were to marry…"
She wasn't as disturbed by the idea as she should have been. She was ready to accept an arranged marriage if it was for her brother, or for her father.
Why wouldn't she accept it for her mother? Would that be so wrong? A voice in the back of her head told her that she should temper her embarrassment and give it serious thought.
"Can I have a few days?"
"I told you, Cora. You can stay as long as you need to."
Twenty-Nine
The three of them were riding the rails in silence. It wasn't Samson's natural state of being, and Ash could see that it was eating at him, but eventually their talk had started to set him on edge, so he'd asked them to be quiet a while, and they had.
Three days in a box together was enough to drive any man crazy, but when it was two people who you had hoped to avoid apart from the occasional Christmas card it was that much worse. Ash took a breath and looked out the window, waiting for Samson to decide it was time to talk again. Just one more day, he reminded himself.
They'd get into Salt Lake City just before supper time, and they'd all just finished breakfast. Not even a day. A few short hours. It was only going to be a few more quick, short hours until they were able to get working.
It wasn't Sam, though. He kept his mouth shut, and when Hewitt finally said it, Samson looked at him like he'd just peed in the punch bowl.
"Why you never come around, Ash? Before now, that is."
Ashton tried not to show that he'd heard the question at all. That was the real question, wasn't it? Why is it he never came around? New Orleans was as much his legacy as it was Hewitt's. Certainly, as much as it was Samson's.
They kept watch over the place to remember the old man, but he could have done it, too. They'd asked him to, and it had been easy to say the words. 'I'll think about it.' He hadn't considered it for one solitary second, and only an idiot would have thought he might have.
What was he supposed to say? Nobody wanted to sit through his whining about not being good enough. The clerk, Tom, he'd known the score. These two were good men. Capable, well-trained. Ash was better than nothing, and he knew which end of a gun to point at the monsters, but between Hewitt and Ash, there was no question which someone would rather have on their side.
It was just a matter of convenience that got him jobs. Otherwise, everyone would be going down to New Orleans to find a hunter, because everyone knew that was where Peters's boys were.
"I don't want to talk about it," he said, finally.
That seemed like the fairest answer. He wasn't about to make an ass of himself, talking about feelings or some shit like that, a few short hours before he had to get himself messed up storming a Devil's lair.
"I get you, man, you don't have to—" Samson was cut off by Hewitt's glare.
"I'm serious, Ashton. If you have something going on, we need to know about it. I have to know what's going through your head. If you're working alone, you work through your stuff alone. That's fine. But if you're working with me, I need to know I can trust you."
"Then you can't."
Ashton didn't look back from the window. He liked the countryside out here. The change in lifestyle wasn't as much as he'd thought, either. Not if he stayed in a city. The isolation of it all, though, was beautiful. The scrub, the plants, it all looked so different. Alien, even, but beautiful.
Hewitt reached across the cabin and grabbed his face, forcing Ashton to look at him. Ash stood up, ready for a fight in half a second.
"You want to make something of it?"
"Ashton, nobody blames you."
"It was my fault, though, wasn't it?" Ashton let out a long breath and sat back down. "If it weren't for me, the old man would be fine."
"Don't say stupid shit, man. Nobody thinks that."
"Then I think it."
They were silent a while longer, the same uncomfortable silence they'd ridde
n in for most of the trip. Samson was still fidgeting, though Ashton didn't think that he wanted to talk any more. Finally Ash reached into his bag and pulled out the rolled-up magazine.
"Here you go, Sam. Read this. It's only a few more hours until we hit Salt Lake City."
Hewitt looked at him with a mix of frustration and concern. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Ashton?"
"I was done with it."
"That's not what I meant, and you know it."
"I told you that I don't want to talk about it."
"So, what. When we get there, and some Devil's rootin' around in your noggin, I'm supposed to just be flying blind? Cause they—"
"I know they can do that, Hewitt, I ain't an idiot. I may not be a real hunter, like y'all. May not have ever finished my training, but I finished my first day of training, at least."
Ashton couldn't force himself to keep looking out the window. It was the better thing to do, but all he could do now was shoot Hewitt the challenge to agree with him. Go ahead, see what happens, he thought.
"Oh—I see now. It's about that, is it?"
"Not the whole thing."
Hewitt sucked in a breath and leaned back. The cabin was crowded with the three of them, but with his long legs it seemed like he could practically reach them across to Ashton's bed if he wanted to.
Once he'd let the breath out and taken another one in, Hewitt leaned back forward, his face almost teasing now.
"Ashton, are you a god damn idiot? I know you're not stupid—you probably read that damn magazine in ten minutes, and you could probably read it back to Samson while he holds it in his hands just from the first time. So you ain't stupid, but you just might be the biggest idiot I ever met."
"Go to hell."
Ashton forced his eyes back to the window. This could get dangerous fast. He could already feel the heat rising in his chest. This was why he never went around. To avoid this exact conversation. He hadn't figured on it coming from Hewitt. He was usually pretty easygoing. Hewitt and Samson being on the line for watching New Orleans made them the best choices.
Aside from Sam's joker act, he was pretty cool with what he said to folks, and Hewitt was the one who usually cut him the most slack out of all the boys. Or, he had, before. Now it seemed like he wasn't in the slack-cutting business.
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