Some of the missing people had been Decker’s kills, not chosen carefully enough in a moment of hunger. Safine still had the evidence of his kills with her apothecary of human remains upstairs, and the river spirit who dragged their prey upstream didn’t hide them well enough if Ender’s Blessing was shifting. Eventhe dancing girls scrubbing bloody footprints from their floors had their own share of travelers who hadn’t returned from their nightly revels.
All of them were in danger.
Mr. Lane shifted from foot to foot as if unsure whether to stay or go. “My uncle was one of those who never returned,” he said, like he was testing the current of a deep, swift river. “It’s been three years since he left and I…I thought perhaps once I made the journey, he would be here. Maybe with a new family, but alive.”
It wasn’t wise to talk with Mr. Lane so frankly. But something about the preacher’s misplaced hope drew him in like a bird luring him away from her nest with a broken wing, and Decker was the foolish coyote slinking after him.
He folded the newspaper in sharp creases. “No one was surprised when he disappeared.”There was nothing to be gained by pretending Elias was alive.
“Did you know him?”
Decker thought of the hours Elias spent at theGoose, talking in fellowship with him.How he’d listened to Elias next door, lost in senseless ramblings, and how he looked as he killed him.
“No. No one did here, and we were better for it.”
Distress etched lines across the preacher’s face. “He had a family, a wife. How can you be so callous?”
“How can you come here and demand answers about someone three years later?” Decker asked sharply. “We didn’t miss him and those he left back East never attempted to find him.”
“His wife,my aunt, passed—”
“Pity.”
“Have I done something wrong, Decker?” A sharp breath left him and he pressed his thumb into his palm, rubbing next to his cut. “I’m not familiar with the customs here—if I’ve upset you, you have my deepest apologies.”
“Your apologies won’t fix what Elias Lane did to this town. We don’t want another preacher coming here, stirrin’ up folks,” Decker said. “Best thing you can do is catch the next train back East, before you become the sixteenth.”
“I’m only here to help those who need it. Walk in the Lord’s footsteps, lead a life of servitude, of humility and grace.”
Liar.
His sermon was so perfect it seemed rehearsed, words spilling out of him as tidy and manufactured as each shiny pearl button on his ironed shirt.
“We don’t need your damn preachin’.”
“I am here for so much more.” Conviction sharpened his words, a stake driven by unwavering faith rooted so deep Decker could have believed him. “Iwantto be here for more.”
“So did your uncle.” Decker stood and the preacher’s shoulders bowed as if waiting for a blow. “Go home, Mr. Lane.”
A desperate, aching look flashed through his face, like Decker’s words pressed a crown of thorns across his brow. His lips tightened. “I expect I won’t see you at Sunday service when I finish the chapel?”
“I expect not.”
He ducked his head in a nod. “It’s for the best.”
And before Decker could ask what, exactly, the hell he meant by that, he turned on his heel and brushed past Safine at the door, disappearing to his chapel with the Heaven-stretched steeple.
“Goddamn. Hope your newspaper was worththat.” Safine dropped her saddlebags to the floor and slipped behind the bar, snagging a towel to wipe away the dust coating her tired face before she poured herself a sarsaparilla.
Decker made an exasperated sound as he hoisted the full saddlebags over his shoulder, the tang of leather and horse-sweat seeping into his clothes and bringing him back to their simple life. He needed to get his mind off the damn preacher, and after a day out in the hills, Safine usually came home with a few good stories.
“Out with Three Hawks the whole time?”
“You know how it goes with him.” She shook her head. “All I needed was some extra herbs for the Dillon’s girl and two hours later he’s showing me the entire life cycle of the mullein plant, where it grows, how to find it without him.” The furrow in her brow suddenly deepened and she took a long draft of her sarsaparilla before she cleared her throat. “Government’s trying to push them onto a tiny tract of land. Three Hawks is worried about the winter.”
The harsh months were never easy on any of them, and the soldiers often took full advantage of weakened communities. If they were forced into even more limited resources, it would be a disaster.
“They know they can set up camp down by the river if things get bad,” Decker said. He hated the feeling of helplessness creeping in. It wasn’t much of an offer, not when the entire bend and valley used to be theirs, but it would afford some protection—though with the shifting of Ender’s Blessing, who knew how safe any of them were going to be?
