He heard the unsure footing come to a standstill ahead, the snow spraying off the toes of their boots.
“Comrades,” Donny called in greeting. “Welcome to Kenton Hill.”
The six had come, it seemed, in some last spasm of futility, with naught but one gun apiece, and Donny imagined the slow recoil of their bravado, chins just now, at the sight of Kenton Hill’s response, beginning to quiver.
“We—we ain’t here to fight,” one said. He did a poor job at diplomacy with that voice, grated at its edges.
“Haven’t you?” Donny turned the bullet over in his fingers. “Perhaps you came to return the guns, then? Union property, I presume.” Bold of them, Donny thought, to come toting the weapons Kenton Hill had provided them with.
“Perhaps they came to see the sights,” Gunner growled loudly, and the Kenton brigade laughed in their cruel way.
“No vacancy, I’m afraid,” Donny said. “You should have sent a note. We could have saved you the walk.”
“We came to… see,” another voice said, this one female, no less trepid. “To see for ourselves.”
“See what, darlin’?” asked Gunner.
“The bluff,” the voice answered, stronger now. “We want to see it with our own eyes.”
There was a damning, expounding silence.
“And from which sorry corner do you hail?” Donny asked, but not quick enough to absorb the disquiet, not quick enough to conceal their hand.
“We’re representatives from Dunnitch, Dorser, and Scurry,” said the gruff voice.
“Representatives, eh? Ambassadors. You got a name, O Ambassador?”
“Burgess. The surrounding parishes had a meeting, night afore last.”
“Did they?” Donny sniffed, pulling a cigarette into his mouth.
“Everyone’s scared. Seems like each way you look at it, the Union’s finished. Only no one’s sayin’ so.”
“Only ones who can say so are the Colsons,” Gunner answered. “And we ain’t sayin’ so till the fight is won.”
“Accordin’ to the papers, there are two Colsons currently sittin’ in the House of Lords, drinkin’ fuckin’ tea with the ministers and makin’ their bargains on our behalf,” said Burgess. “For all we know, they’re sellin’ us down the river as we speak.”
Gunner’s rifle clacked as it lifted, and Donny held his hand out in warning. “Put it down, brother.”
“If Patrick Colson is makin’ agreements with the House, we ought to know what they are,” said Burgess. “We ought to have a fuckin’ say!”
From Donny’s side, Tess’s voice rose. “You’re a fool,” she said, then after two stilted breaths, “You’re more fool than you are a man. At this moment, my son and husband are in the brink, evadin’ the fuckin’ infantry, makin’ their way back home. And you’re sittin’ in your parishes, warmed by the coal we send, readin’ your fuckin’ papers, and blowin’ smoke up each other’s arses!” The words turned ragged at their ends, and she struggled to catch her breath. A stream of wrenching coughs ensued. It was too cold out here, the air thin and difficult to breathe.
“Please, Ma,” he murmured to her. “Go inside.”
“How quick you are to shed your loyalty!” she continued. “Couple of lies from the House, and you’re runnin’ scared!”
The Kenton brigade hollered their agreement.
“Then show us the bluff,” said the woman’s voice. “You say you have it, but we ain’t seen a pinch. And those of us in Dorser…” Here, her voice cracked. “Those of us in Dorser have someone at home who needs it. Husbands with limbs blown off, kids with burns… The Union is supposed to be about givin’ to each other what the House won’t. That’s what it’s always been about!”
“Aye,” said Gunner. “And Kenton’s given more than its fair share.”
“And we’ve come to rely on it,” said another man. “You Colsons made it that way. You made it so’s we were beholden to you. Well, you can keep your fuckin’ coal and your fuckin’ tunnels. It don’t mean squat if your Alchemist is gone, and the bluff with him!”
“Show us the bluff,” the woman repeated. “We won’t take none. We won’t stir bad blood between our parishes if it’s the truth. But we want to see it with our own eyes and know that we ain’t fightin’ a war already lost.”
“And if we refuse?” Donny asked, it was a trial to keep his voice cocky. To grin around his cigarette as though it were all a lark.
