Riders on the Storm

by Rob Blackwell

  She waited for laughter—it was a lie so outrageous she was sure none would believe it—but sometimes a big lie worked better than a small one. Nobody disputed Will’s account.

  “So if I’m willing to give up a fortune in silver, I think you ought to give me the benefit of the doubt,” Jules said. “There’s a storm coming. I say we get prepared. If I’m wrong and no storm shows up, you’ll keep the silver bullets. Save ‘em, spend ‘em, it doesn’t matter to me. I’ll throw in some gold coins to boot. If I’m right and the storm comes, you’ll be in for the fight of your lives. You stay with me, you might make it. You cut and run, you’re as good as dead.”

  She looked over the entire room. “You’ve known me since I was a girl. I’ve never asked anything of you men. But I’m asking it now. Stand with me and defy the winds that are coming to tear us apart. Stand and survive. So what’s it going to be, gentlemen?”

  She waited with bated breath, still unsure which way it would go. Indeed, the room had gone completely silent. Only Crazy Pete was making noise, saying something underneath his breath.

  But this was it. This was all she had to offer.

  A moment later, Dy came around the bar and clapped her on the shoulder.

  “I can’t speak for the rest of this town,” he said. “But I’m with you, Jules. To the end.”

  He got a hearty cheer from some of the other men, which proved contagious. Within a few minutes, most of them were cheering, both for Dy and each other.

  Will looked stunned, and smiled in wonder at Jules. She winked at him and held up her hands.

  “All right then, let’s get to work,” she said.

  “You have a plan?” Dy asked.

  She’d thought of it on the way over. She’d been pondering her father’s five strategies. Obviously, aggression was out of the question, and the cowardly strategy wouldn’t work. But she thought a combination of defensive and distraction might work.

  Like all her best ideas, what she might do had popped into her head out of nowhere. It was a crazy notion, but that might be perfect for the fix they were in.

  “I do,” Jules replied. “Why don’t you start by breaking out the whiskey, Dy. We’re gonna need it.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  “I see a lone girl in the prairie, riding a black horse. She rides between the shadow and the light.”

  — Attributed to the Lady of Shadows, 1861, excerpted by Terry Jacobsen, “A History of the Supernatural,” 2013

  “Stop pacing,” Miranda said. “You’re making me nervous.”

  “I am not pacing,” Jules snapped.

  “Okay, sure, you’re just walking back and forth looking at the sky,” she said.

  That was exactly what Jules was doing. She was outside the saloon, her eyes scanning the horizon. For the past several hours, she and what townsfolk believed her had been working at a frenetic pace, many of them with one eye on the skies above.

  But night had come with no sign of a storm. If anything, the clouds had dissipated, revealing a bright, starry sky overhead. Some men were grumbling that the very idea of a threat was either a lie or a delusion.

  Jules had no such fears. She had grown steadily more anxious as night had come on, convinced that it was no accident that the storm had held off.

  She’d been underestimating the Vipers. Their ability to talk through Miranda—assuming that’s who was doing the talking—proved they weren’t mindless. There was some intelligence there.

  And strategically, waiting until nightfall made sense. Jules had seen one of their kind obliterated by sunlight when it got left behind after a storm. That wouldn’t be a problem if they came soon.

  Of course, she didn’t exactly know why they were coming at all. It was clear they wanted something, but what remained a mystery.

  “Where are they?” Jules asked. “Why don’t they come?”

  “I’m not sure,” Miranda said. “But do you really want them to come?”

  “Now I do.”

  She’d been dreading it the entire time they got ready, as she delegated the men to different areas. They’d needed time to prepare.

  Their place of defense was obvious. They’d retreated to the stone church. Jules didn’t know if old Father Just had truly had a vision from God or not, but she was grateful it was there.

  It wasn’t just the Vipers coming, but the storm itself. A full-blown tempest could destroy virtually any other building in town, which was mostly made of weathered wood. A stone church wasn’t necessarily invulnerable to winds either, but it was better than the other options.

  It also had few points of entry. The church had a double oak door at its entrance, and three windows on each side. The residents of Stanton had spent the better part of the afternoon boarding up those windows. They’d cleared the church of pews, using the wood to reinforce the windows.

  Jules had ordered them to make it as thick as possible, though she had no illusions it would stop the Vipers completely.

  Still, if it could at least hamper the Vipers, it would mean a defensible line at the altar. At best, they’d be shooting those that made it through the reinforced wooden door. Once the windows fell, it’d get harder, but Jules had a contingency for that.

  There was another reason to choose the church beyond its stone construction. Jules had forced Dy to reveal to residents the location of his “storage facilities,” which he’d used to keep both his liquor supplies and contraband.

  Jules had already known where they were, seeing as how Trent had used them for years up until his disappearance.

  One was a makeshift basement dug below the saloon. Though the access point was large—it had to be to accommodate barrels of whiskey and other booze—it was also relatively hidden. Dy had a small office that masked the entrance, which had a big trap door in the floor.

  The basement had one other important feature—a hidden tunnel that led to the crypt beneath the church.

  Jules had been afraid to go down into it when she was younger, fearing the ghost of the long-dead minister and his followers who ended their lives there. He was buried in the stone tomb just below the altar, inside the large crypt where they’d committed suicide.

  The crypt was strangely spacious. Given the cross down there and the bits of candles that could still be found, she suspected that Father Just had used it as a secondary place of worship. There were still rumors in town about other strange rituals undertaken down there.

  While the thought made Jules shiver, she was grateful for the space—and for her father’s decision to connect the crypt to the saloon.

  That had happened a decade ago, when Jules was just hitting puberty. By then, the church was run by Father Gasink, who’d come to the new world from Ireland and appeared far more interested in having easy access to extra liquor stores than he was in the sanctity of the crypt. Trent had paid him well for the access. It was the perfect place to keep valuable loot.

  It wasn’t a large tunnel, measuring just five feet high and two feet wide, but it was easy enough to move men and supplies back and forth.

  Jules was grateful for all the hard work that had gone into it—and that Dy had recently resupplied his liquor stores.

  They’d rolled most of his liquor into the crypt, propping the barrels all along the sides. That left the storage beneath the saloon relatively free, which was what Jules wanted.

  “Do you think this is going to work?” Miranda asked.

  “Probably not.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  “You wanted the truth, right? I told you if we stayed and fought, we’d die. Don’t see a reason that’s changed.”

  “But you told them—” Miranda started.

  “I told them the truth. I may have exaggerated our chances a bit,” Jules said.

  Jules had just finished her final pep talk, holding it in the church. For right now, most of the town was holed up there. She wanted everyone in the same place.

  She suspected—mostly a hunch—that the Vipers c
ould sense where people were. Maybe she was wrong and they’d go house to house searching, but the way they’d swarmed the bank in Longstone suggested they’d somehow known there were people inside. Assuming she was right, she wanted the Vipers attacking the church.

  The main thrust of her strategy was simple—delay, delay, delay. The Vipers were only able to appear with a storm above them and with the exception of the Maelstrom, storms didn’t stay in one place forever. The longer they could hold out, the greater the chance the storm would force the creatures to move on.

  “That’s what we’re going to do, fellas,” Jules had told the assembled group. “Hold the line. We do that long enough, we just might come out okay.”

  She’d smiled when she said it, and she’d been pleased to see all the heads nodding, including Will, who appeared genuinely optimistic about the plan.

  Still, Jules couldn’t shake the feeling it was a wasted effort. She’d seen storms that could last hours. How long could they hope to hold out?

  She’d distributed guns from the jail, and had each man grab his own firearm. They were all stored—along with a large share of silver bullets—inside the church.

  The silver bullets had been a bit of a problem. The issue wasn’t supply. Hubert was able to smelt down quite a bit from the coins they’d taken from the U.S. Army. But there was no one-size-fits-all sized ammunition, either, forcing Jules to make hard choices.

  She’d ultimately had Hubert make a large share of bullets fitted for Colt revolvers, which was by far the most popular weapon in this part of the West. She’d also devoted a significant share to rifle ammunition. She didn’t bother making buckshot for shotguns or the like. They’d have to make do with rifles and revolvers and hope for the best. The different kinds of ammo had been carefully separated and labeled so nobody would spend time grabbing the wrong kind.

  Surprisingly, many of the town had brought silver candlesticks and other objects to contribute to the cause. Jules didn’t think they would die for want of ammunition.

  “You’re making me nervous,” Miranda said, jarring Jules from her mental review of their preparations. “Go do something.”

  Jules stopped and glared at her sister. “Like what?”

  Miranda bit her lip as if she were holding her tongue. It was almost funny. Clearly she had something in mind, but was hesitating to say it out loud.

  “What?” Jules asked.

  “Maybe you should go see Will,” Miranda said.

  “He’s in the church, walking the troops through the battle strategy,” she said. “He’s also convincing them not to drink all the liquor in the crypt. Last thing we want is a bunch of drunk recruits shooting at each other.”

  “He finished a half hour ago,” Miranda replied. “Will is guarding the liquor with Luke and Dy now.”

  “So why should I go see him?” Jules said.

  Miranda arched an eyebrow at her. “It’s been my experience that when you’re this nervous, a… distraction might be good for you.”

  “What kind of a distr—” Jules said and stopped when she realized what Miranda was getting at. “Sister, are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting? Surely, Rita’s girls, who are huddled in the church, could accommodate Will if he’s in an amorous mood.”

  “It’s not him I’m looking out for. And you and I both know nobody in Rita’s shop is the woman he wants.”

  Jules waved her hand dismissively. “Even if I was inclined, he’d never go for it.”

  “You sure about that? You just persuaded the whole town to give up their silver and prepare for an attack from demons in a storm. Seems to me convincing a man to, uh, occupy your time for a bit would be relatively easy. Particularly one who’s still in love with you.”

  “He’s not in love with me,” Jules said.

  “You don’t believe that,” Miranda replied. “More importantly, neither does he. You think he’d be here if he didn’t still love you?”

  “He lost his men. He wanted to—”

  “Jules,” Miranda said, and took her hand. “Go. See what you see. As you say, we may not all see tomorrow. At the very least, make your goodbyes to him. He’s earned that much.”

  Jules paused, considering. Her sister had a point. She couldn’t see parting on the terms that Miranda was suggesting, but she did at least owe him a conversation.

  “All right,” she said. “But you get me at the first rumble of thunder.”

  “Even if you’re occupied?”

  Jules smiled. “That bit ain’t liable to last that long, as I remember it. Not impugning Will, mind you. I never was one for a prolonged period of romance, if you take my meaning.”

  “Unfortunately, I do,” she said. “I’ll get you if something happens.”

  She found Will in the crypt with Luke. From the sound of it, Will had been trying and failing to engage Luke in conversation.

  She studied Will in the lantern light. He looked as handsome as the day she’d met him, his normally smooth face now with a bit of grizzle that made him seem more roguish. She liked it. If they survived, she made a mental note to tell him to shave less.

  “Luke, would you mind making sure we have extra fuel for the lanterns down here?” she asked.

  He nodded, heading up some wooden stairs into the church. There were a few other people in the crypt—women, mostly, with children who played nearby without the slightest notion that they were in danger. They didn’t seem like much of a threat to steal the liquor.

  “Will, could I talk to you for a second?”

  He nodded and got up to stand by her. She gestured toward the tunnel and the two of them walked the length of it. It was maybe fifty feet underground.

  They emerged into Dy’s storeroom, which had been emptied out. To his credit, Dy hadn’t complained once about the movement of his livelihood. Once he’d committed to Jules’ plan, he’d done so completely.

  She stood in the center, looking at the trap door above them. If the Vipers decided to come through this way, they’d be in deep trouble. But without people down here, there was no reason for them to attack this direction. She’d just have to hope they’d focus on the church.

  Will looked at her expectantly, and Jules realized he was waiting to hear what she wanted to talk about. Suddenly, she had no idea herself. What was she supposed to say to this man she’d lied to for so many weeks? She’d pledged her life to his, all the while effectively crossing her fingers behind her back.

  She couldn’t think of what to say and then decided she didn’t need to say anything. Without preamble, she kissed him.

  He was shocked, she could tell that much, but he didn’t immediately pull away. She leaned into the kiss, pulling him toward her in the process, and he responded immediately. His hands wrapped around her.

  For a moment, she thought they could get away without speaking at all, but he broke apart after only a few moments together. He looked surprised.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Are you so out of the habit that you don’t know?” she asked, smiling teasingly at him. She moved in for another kiss, but he stepped back from her.

  “I can’t, Jules,” he said.

  “Come now, you can’t have forgotten how,” she said. “It hasn’t been that long.”

  But her amusement wasn’t echoed in his face. He looked deadly serious.

  “It’s not that, it’s—”

  “You can’t have relations with a thief, a liar and a whore?” Jules asked. “If it helps, you can call me Sally. I wouldn’t—”

  “I’m engaged, Jules,” Will said.

  She took a step back, and it was her turn to be surprised. She wasn’t sure why she was shocked. It had been years. Did she really think he wouldn’t move on?

  “I, uh,” she started, and then turned away. She wasn’t angry, so much as embarrassed. It wasn’t like her to make a move on a man and be refused.

  Will grabbed her arm as she tried to walk back into the tunnel.

  “Wait
, Jules,” he said. “Can we talk, please?”

  His voice was so earnest she stopped. All of a sudden she was angry, but not at him. She didn’t know why, exactly. For approaching him at all? Or for letting him go in the first place?

  Whatever Miranda’s dream had been, she could never have been happy in Chicago, living that kind of life. It had been fun at first, but it had also been stifling.

  Will’s mother had been kind, but his sisters had looked at her askance every time she said the wrong thing, which had been surprisingly often despite her training on how to be a lady. Somehow the truth of her had kept slipping out.

  She would have been trapped living like that, always expected to be a proper woman. No riding out on the plains, or wielding a gun, both things she’d missed desperately while she’d been on that job.

  “I met her a year ago,” Will said, when Jules turned back to face him. “She’s lovely and kind and—”

  “Not a liar,” Jules said. “I get it. I do. I don’t blame you at all. I hope you both are very happy. I—”

  “I’m breaking it off,” Will said.

  It was the second time in as many minutes that Jules was surprised.

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve had a nagging feeling since I asked her to marry me,” he said. “I couldn’t quite put my finger on what the problem was—until I came here.”

  Jules met his eyes. “What’s the problem?”

  “She’s not you,” Will said. “She really is amazing, but… she’s not you.”

  “Will, the woman you loved was a lie. I’m not her, either.”

  “That’s what I thought too,” Will said. “I told myself that many times. And I thought that when I ran into you again, I wouldn’t recognize you.”

  “I don’t look that different.”

  “The real you. I thought you’d act different. That the woman I fell in love with was a mirage. But I was wrong, Jules. You’re exactly the same.”

  “Come on, Sally was a lot more refined,” Jules said with a smile. “She never swore or made bad jokes or—”

  “She did all those things in private,” Will said. “Maybe you didn’t know it, but you let your guard down when we were alone. That girl, the one who was away from society, she’s the one I love. And she’s standing right in front of me.”