The move surprised her, she couldn’t deny it. Travis preferred diplomacy over fists. But at the moment, the glint in his eyes didn’t have a hint of the diplomatic.
“That’s all right, Travis. Being called a whore by a cowardly rapist named Wilber doesn’t bother me. You know these people want to string you up like you’ve strung up the innocent magickals you’ve tortured.”
She cocked her head, smiled in a way that drained the color bravado had put into Wilber’s face. “Maybe I’ll let them. After all, their community, their rules. Or I could try to reason with them if you tell me what I want to know. Where’s your base?”
Though tears leaked from his eyes, blood streamed from his nose, he said nothing.
“California,” Travis supplied. “The northern part, sort of central, he thinks. They called their base Second Eden.”
“Shut your mind down, asshole,” the black-bearded one snapped. “That demon’s pulling thoughts out of your head.”
“Try shutting your own down … Pete,” Travis suggested. “Wilber here’s afraid of the rope.”
“He oughta be.” Enjoying herself, Sal drank more whiskey. “It’s something we’ve got plenty of around here.”
“How many on your base?”
When Travis punched Wilber again, Fallon brushed him back. “Jesus, Travis, enough.”
“You didn’t hear what he was thinking about you and Meda, and these other ladies. Trying to keep his mind off the question. Give me a minute, they’re all thinking at once. Earthquake. Ah, okay, okay.”
Travis shut his eyes. “They had about two hundred. The bald guy—hi, Tom—he and some others made it up there from the L.A. area. Earthquakes there drove them out. Then bang, they get hit with another in their Eden. Leveled the base, killed most. The ones they rode in here with lived through it. They’ve been riding for weeks—lost a few on the way. Haven’t had much luck hunting, mostly because they’re dicks, got good and lost a couple times. Again, dicks. They’ve been out of supplies for days now, then spotted the settlement here.”
Nodding, Fallon rose, circled them again. “I can take it from there, follow the logic. They’d kill everybody they could, rape and enslave the rest, take the food, the horses, cattle. Maybe settle down right here until they figured where to go next.”
“Time to get that rope.” Sal tossed back the rest of the whiskey, winked at Fallon.
Wilber began to blubber, literally blubber, with tears and snot leaking.
Fallon walked over to ease a hip on the corner of the desk. Ann leaned in to whisper in her ear, “She doesn’t mean it.”
“I got that. Would you mind if we talked outside, Sal? And maybe Ann could find Yancy. Travis and Meda can stand guard here.”
“I could use some air. That’s some trick you’ve got, young fella,” she told Travis. “And you got a solid right jab along with it. Ann, I think Yancy went on down to the livery.”
When they stepped outside, into star-struck night, Sal hissed out a breath. “Sam Tripper was a friend of mine, a good friend. I’m not going to tolerate any lynching, but we’re not going to cut those bastards loose, either.”
“I have a solution that should satisfy you and the rest.”
“Is it a dark hole where they’ll never see the light again or have one minute of joy? Because, goddamn it, Sam was a friend of mine.”
“I think it’s close. Tell me this before Yancy comes. How many of the women could be trained to fight, and be willing?”
“All of them.” No hesitation. “Every blessed one.”
“Good. I can send someone to help with that, and with your security. How many would you estimate are battle-ready now?”
“What kind of battle?”
“Major.”
She took off her hat, slapped it over her thigh a few times. “Maybe a dozen here could handle that. Maybe.”
Fallon watched Yancy walk, a lanky stride, from the paddock. People rushed toward him, obviously asking questions. He took the time, she noted, to answer before moving on.
“Would he be one of the twelve?”
“He would. He’s not as placid as he looks. He can ride like a son of a bitch, and shoot the same. Got a level head on his shoulders.”
“That was my impression. And you?”
“Yeah, I can handle myself. Yancy,” she said when he joined them.
“Sal. Ma’am, I want to thank you and those with you for helping dig the graves. We’ll have a memorial in the morning, say some words. I asked Old Eb to say them, Sal.”
“That’s a good choice.”
“My Faith’d like to have you all to supper. You’re welcome, Sal. We can get somebody to watch the prisoners.”
“Will you let me take the prisoners?” Fallon asked.
“I’d be happy to give them over.”
“Just hold on,” Sal interrupted. “I’d like more particulars there.”
Yancy puffed out a breath, looked up at the stars. “We can’t keep them here, Sal, and that’s a fact. Somebody’s bound to get their blood up and do them in. Too much of me, I gotta say, wants to let them, and be done with it.”
“We have prisons,” Fallon explained. “Travis and Meda can take them back tonight. They’ll be locked up. They’re murderers. They’ll be locked up for life. We have the means, the system. It’s your place, your people, your decision, but I can promise you if you let us take them, they’ll pay.”
“You talking bars and locks?” Sal demanded.
“I am. We have other facilities for prisoners of war, those who qualify. But these aren’t POWs. They’re killers. Bars and locks.”
“I can live with that. How many you got locked up?”
“Including POWs? Several thousand.”
Sal’s mouth dropped open. Yancy simply stared out of narrowed eyes.
“You don’t have any outside communication,” Fallon decided.
“We get someone comes through now and again,” Yancy said. “Maybe brings some news in. Heard some rumors about fighting back east, about you. We got Carrie—she sees things. She says she’s seen you fighting, an army with you, but she didn’t know where.”
“There’s been more than one fight. You don’t know we’ve taken D.C.”
Sal gripped Fallon’s arm. “Girl, you took those government bastards down?”
“We did.”
“You’re the answer to prayers I’ve been afraid to speak. I’ve got a pile of questions for you.”
“They got Sal’s son, the government did, and my sister.”
“I’ll answer your questions. Let me arrange to have Travis and Meda transport the prisoners. I’ll stay the night. We have a lot to talk about.”
* * *
When she got home, snow fell in fat, soft flakes. And she saw her mother coming from the greenhouse with a basket, moving along a shoveled path.
Her hair bundled up under a red cap that matched her knitted gloves, Lana kept her eyes on the ground to watch for slick spots. On a surge of love, Fallon rushed toward her.