NINETEEN

The livery was built with open rafters, wide beams of wood where rats scurried with impunity, heard but unseen in the deep shadows. The fluorescent lighting that hung from the beams illuminated a corridor of clean concrete running between stalls. Billy felt more at home here than with his adoptive parents and certainly more comfortable than in the sheriff’s office. He felt a twinge of sadness at the memory of being plucked away from the livery and forced into the deputy position.

He looked at the clean floor with nostalgia and smelled the hay and straw with approval. The horses were still well cared for.

He glanced at the stalls, and some of the horses looked back with various degrees of curiosity. Billy knew many of the horses better than he knew any people.

Here in the light, Billy finally got a better look at the fugitive. She showed no emotion from her perch on the saddled horse. She stared calmly at Mason Lee’s back. She was wearing a cloak, with only her hands visible. And, of course, her face.

Billy blinked, hoping he didn’t show how his stomach suddenly felt dizzy. At least that’s how he would have explained it if he’d ever risked telling anyone what had happened when her eyes met his. Something about her calmness. Mostly her face, drawing him in so that he could hardly breathe.

He forced himself to look away, searching for Sheriff Carney.

“First tell me how you escaped the jail cell, then I’ll tell you where to find the sheriff.” Billy didn’t understand how Mason could have so easily anticipated Billy’s next question.

“I had a key,” Billy said.

“You had a key.”

“Ever since I locked myself in, I kept a key tied to my shoelace. I didn’t want to give Sheriff Carney a reason to yell at me if I locked myself in again.”

“Blind pig finding an acorn.” Mason shook his head in disgust. Billy couldn’t tell if Mason was disgusted with Billy or himself.

“Where’s Sheriff Carney?” Billy asked.

“It won’t matter to you.” Mason reached his good arm behind him and pulled out a pistol he’d tucked into his belt at his lower back. “Might as well drop the shotgun. No shells in it.”

Billy felt his mouth drop open. No shells. He wanted to open the gun and look but was afraid that Mason would shoot him or the girl.

Mason pointed the pistol at the midsection of the girl on the horse. “Toss the shotgun in the hay. You don’t want her to be belly-shot. Trust me.”

Billy threw it onto the nearby hay.

“Good boy,” Mason said, as if speaking to a dog. “Go down to the far end and open the other set of doors. As you work your way back, open each stall and let the horses out. I want them all out in the yard. Then open the yard gate.”

“The horses might run loose,” Billy said, recoiling from the instructions. This was the worst thing that could happen. Except for a fire.

“Do it,” Mason snapped. “If you don’t come back, you’ll be leaving the girl to die. Understand?”

Billy thought about it long enough to make sure he understood before nodding his head. He wished Sheriff Carney were nearby.

“Go,” Mason said.

Billy returned to Mason in less than five minutes. The horses knew his smell and were accustomed to him moving them out in the yard to clean the stalls. Billy couldn’t stand it, thinking that some of the horses might have already escaped through the open gate and were wandering into the hills.

“Now fetch some twine,” Mason said.

Billy pulled twine loose from a hay bale, seeing no choice but to obey, and he dropped it in front of Mason.

“Help her down,” Mason said, standing well clear of Billy. Still, Billy could smell the man’s sweat, like that of a boar.

“I’m sorry,” Billy said to her softly, reaching up. “He’s Mason Lee. The bounty hunter. I didn’t know things would happen like this.”

She surprised him with a small, compassionate smile. She didn’t struggle. She was light, bracing on both his arms, and her cloak was soft on his face as he set her on her feet. It seemed to Billy that she didn’t weigh anything at all, even accustomed as he was to moving things with little effort.

Mason kept his pistol trained on both of them. “Tie her hands. Behind her back.”

As he did, Billy saw that her fingers were long, almost like claws. He didn’t find it frightening.

“Tie her ankles,” Mason said. “Then set her on her back in that hay.”

Billy was as gentle as he could be. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again.

When he straightened, he noticed for the first time a strange metal canister near the pile of hay. He’d never seen it in the livery before.

“Sit on the floor, raise your knees, and tie your ankles,” Mason directed Billy, now pointing the pistol at his midsection.

Billy lowered himself. He cinched the twine until Mason grunted with approval.

“Roll over.”

“You can shoot me this way,” Billy said. “I’d just as soon see it coming.”

Mason walked to him and kicked him in the side of the head. It rocked Billy but didn’t turn him over.

“You are an ox,” Mason said, half in admiration. “That’d put any other man down. Now roll over before I shoot the girl.”

Billy turned onto his stomach. Mason pounced on his lower back and sat heavy.

“I’ve got this pistol tucked under my bad arm,” Mason said. “But don’t think I’d be slow to pull it on you. Both hands behind your back where I can tie them myself.”

Billy thought it would be better to die fighting, but the thought of the girl held him back, as he had no doubt Mason would shoot her. Maybe if Billy obeyed, she’d be okay. He knew now that she was the fugitive and worth bounty money. Billy lifted his hands from the concrete and put them on his back. Mason wrapped his wrists with the remaining twine, then stood.

“Not going to shoot you,” Mason said to Billy. “That would spoil my fun.”

He knelt beside Billy and showed him the long bowie knife he’d pulled from the sheath on his back. He nicked Billy’s cheek. The blood felt like tears.

“You shouldn’t have crossed me in the sheriff’s office,” Mason said. “When I’m finished with her, you’re next. Then I burn the place down, and you’ll take the blame.”

“People here know I don’t like hurting anyone,” Billy said. He heard a sound, like rats, on the rafters. He wanted to keep Mason talking.

“Not after they see the surveillance camera, with you and the shotgun following us into the livery. A person like you would let the horses out before starting a fire, right? That’s on surveillance camera too.”

Billy thought about it and realized it was true.

Mason laughed. “If only you could see your face and that frown.”

Mason stood again and moved to the girl. He pulled the metal canister close and opened the lid and set it beside the girl. White vapor rose from inside.

Mason held the tip of the knife above the girl’s belly. “I’m going to cut you wide open. It’s all right if you scream. Please do.”

He looked back at Billy. “You watching?”

Billy was watching. What he saw was a big rock that fell on Mason’s head.