Rod’s raspy voice resumed. “You’ll need to keep this plan limited to essential personnel only. I don’t want to be fucked over because of the traitor behind your walls. You’ve got someone feeding us information and getting us supplies.” If he had been hoping for a big reaction, he was about to be disappointed.
“We have some idea of who our traitor might be,” said Cam, grinding his teeth. His jaw ached already. “Since we’re talking about family gone bad.”
Lissa turned to him. “We need proof.”
Amanda shook her head. “We have a name but no proof. You’ll have to expose them yourselves. It’s someone well-connected.”
Lissa turned to Cam. “She wouldn’t do that, would she? Betray xTerra by allying with the Slains. She has her own ideas about what’s good for everyone, but…” Her voice trailed off when he didn’t respond. His mother probably thought she was saving everyone, even if she was going about it wrong. Not evil, but she may be unhinged.
Rod said, “To be clear, from what I’ve understood, it’s the mayor.”
“Former mayor,” said Cam, his mind spinning as he tried to plan a way to prove his mother’s involvement. Her adamant insistence that he or Lissa were traitors made more sense. The true culprit was the most likely to sling accusations.
There must be something tying her to the cache from the old mine. Or someone else she’d used for deliveries before Aiden. His brother hadn’t stolen fifty wooden crates and relocated them to the mine by himself, not even one at a time. Based on the last few conversations Cam had with his brothers, he doubted Nate and Jed had been involved. Cam returned his attention to Rod. “Do you need time to discuss our proposition?”
“We’re in,” said Amanda.
Rod put his arm around her. “If we help take down John Slains, I want your personal promise to support my wife. Not Robin or Kory. They’re not here. I want your promise to get our kids into xTerra. If we’re caught, or at worst killed, I want Robin to look after them. They still talk about her. She taught themonly for a week and a half but made a strong impression.” His gravely voice grew raspier with emotion.
It should never come to that. They’d be careful and not take unnecessary risks. But Cam understood Rod’s insistence. If it were his family, he’d want assurances too.
“We promise.” Cam stuck out his calloused hand and shook hands first with Amanda, then with Rod. Cam felt good about giving them a chance.
Rod gripped Cam’s hand, his eyes hard and unflinching. “It’s a deal.” He turned, and they both shook Lissa’s hand as well, a somber mood descending. If they were successful, they would be responsible for a man’s death.
“We’ll be back in three days with our sniper,” said Cam. “We can plan together. We want action as soon as possible.”
“See you then,” said Amanda, returning to the house. Over her shoulder she said, “This could get worse before it gets better, or I don’t know my brother.”
***
Cam stood lookout, peering through the slats of the vertical blinds from their chosen vantage in the upper story of an empty house. He, Dave, and Rod had left Fort Robinson early this morning, several hours before their planned assassination of John Slains in Douglas, Wyoming. He and Dave moved into position while it was still dark outside. Cam hadn’t been part of a plan to kill someone before, but ultimately, this was the best way to end the war with the Slains. He was putting a lot of faith in their new allies to make this work.
Rod assured them that if the charismatic and powerful Slains leader was out of the picture, his men would argue over who would take charge, and his younger brothers wouldn’t be able tokeep the rest of the rough men together. Nor were his nephews or sons old enough to be a threat.
Bobby wasn’t old enough yet to command respect, even if he was ruthless enough. Maybe someday, but not for a few years. Shelby too might hold some men, but after years of ignoring women, she might struggle for authority. Many would drift away to find another stronghold or someone looking to pay for muscle. Anyone remaining would have to focus on sustaining themselves and planning for the winter, rather than expanding.
Killing John Slains could probably buy a decade, maybe two, of peace.
Mayor Winters, Captain Wilson, and the Council had serious reservations, but they’d agreed that killing one man to end a war that could drag on and kill hundreds made sense. Though for a good cause, discussing the plan had left a vile taste in his mouth. Still, shooting John Slains seemed the lesser evil, and Cam couldn’t fault their logic. The captain had recruited Dave as their sniper because of his military experience. Though rusty, he was their best chance, and without batting an eye, he’d agreed to take the shot.
Cam glanced up, watching the fast-moving clouds. He didn’t like the look of the sky with its greenish haze—a color out of nightmares. In the distance, thick black clouds stretched out, appearing to touch the ground to the south across the river. He shifted uneasily, checking other directions, noting the wind had picked up, too. Across the former schoolyard, hanging from a rusted flagpole, flapped the faded, tattered remnants of an American flag. Tumbleweeds raced across the cracked parking lots, pushed along by the increasing wind, carrying random bits of debris and clouds of dust.
A serious storm was brewing. Since his experience last fall, which led to his fractured ankle, he gave the weather more respect than previously. He’d only seen clouds like these oncebefore, despite the extreme weather caused by volcanic ash and dust in the atmosphere. That time, there had been a tornado, one with funnels that had destroyed one of the deserted towns near xTerra. Some buildings had been left untouched, others reduced to slivers and scattered rubble.
To his left, forked yellow lightning crackled in the charcoal sky, and distant thunder rumbled. He tugged the collar of his jacket higher, trying to keep the cold at bay. The storm front was still several miles out and might pass to the east. Driving home might be rough, but at least they had a roof overhead right now. Still, he hoped John Slains would arrive soon so the waiting could end.
Cam and Dave had set up inside a large, two-story house on the hillside overlooking the old high school, across from where the Slains had fortified a semi-permanent camp for their men, guarding the southern highway and the bridges across the North Platte River. The Slains’ compound, where the family lived, was along a smaller, less-traveled highway near Bill. Somewhere difficult to access without being caught by his patrols.
Rod reported John had the locals trained to inform him if anyone new or unusual came through town. That tracked with Robin and Kory’s information. Drawing John to this location would be easier than trying something closer to his stronghold. Shooting him on his home turf was a last resort, only coming into play if he failed to show today or the attempt failed.
Cam returned his attention to the ground, scanning the roads through his binoculars again. With luck, this wouldn’t take much longer, and they could split.
Over an hour ago, Rod had driven into the camp below, mixing with the dozen men stationed there while he awaited the leader. As soon as he arrived, he sent a message through one of his former men that he’d like to speak to the Slains’ leader about renegotiating Bobby and Daisy’s betrothal.
Cam couldn’t help but worry about Rod. He’d taken the most dangerous job, going amongst his former comrades after sending an inflammatory message to John Slains requesting an audience. If the meeting went to hell, Rod would be trapped.
Would the Slains leader be suspicious of his request? Powerful men often were, though Rod assured Cam that he and Amanda had moved out of the compound in good standing without burning bridges. Still, Rod had left the rest of the Slains to deal with xTerra, and it hadn’t gone well. The leader might be annoyed, but he shouldn’t hold Rod accountable for that failure.
