“Remind me never to make fun of your proclivity for violence ever again, Sergeant.”
“My what?”
“Never mind.”
Hollister jumped, for Rebecca had approached from behind him and was peering out the port over his shoulder.
“Oh my God! That’s Bob! It’s my husband!” She tried to shove past Hollister, reaching for the door handle, clawing at the wooden timber that held it shut.
“Whoa!” Hollister said, grabbing and spinning her around in one motion. His back was to the door now. Someone had lit two of the lanterns in the office and he could see the scared faces of everyone in the room.
“We’re not going anywhere, at least until daylight. We go outside, those things will be on us before we get ten feet. Good as Chee is, he can’t shoot ’em all.”
“But my husband! He’s the sheriff! He’ll know what to do!” Rebecca moaned and twisted her left hand in the folds of her apron.
“Ma’am,” Hollister said quietly. “I’m awful sorry for what you been through, but he’s not the sheriff or your husband anymore.”
She tried once more to go around him to the door and he scooped her up in a bear hug and carried her backward to the center of the room. She kicked and screamed and then stumbled when he let her go, falling to the ground in a heap. She started crying in loud pitiful hiccupping breaths.
“Stay there,” Hollister said. He rejoined Chee at the window. “Thanks for your help there.”
“Major, it appeared to me you had the situation firmly in hand.”
When Hollister looked out the port again, the creatures were gone.
“Wonder where they went,” Hollister muttered.
“I expect we’ll know soon enough,” Chee said.
Hollister studied the group of women and children, many of them now seated on the floor. The children were well beyond terrified and Hollister thought briefly of the little girl who had wandered into Camp Sturgis. How long ago it had been. He wondered where the girl was now and what her life was like.
The women were nearly beaten. They all had empty, vacant stares on their faces. With Lucinda gone, they were losing hope.
“Chee, give me one of your Colts,” he said.
Chee handed over the gun with a slight hesitation, like he’d rather pass a kidney stone than release one of his weapons.
“Don’t worry, you still have plenty of ordnance.” He held up the gun, checking the load.
“Can any of you women shoot?” Hollister asked.
At first no one said anything. Then a hand went up.
“I can, a little,” a woman said, her voice small and tiny sounding.
“I’ll just bet you can, whore,” Rebecca muttered from the floor.
“What’s your name, miss?” Hollister asked, ignoring the outburst.
“Sally,” she said. She had reddened slightly at Rebecca’s comment, but she recovered quickly. Hollister liked her for it.
He held out the Colt.
“You know how to use one of these?”
She nodded, taking the heavy gun from his hand. Pulling back on the hammer, she pointed it at the wall. “You cock it, then pull the trigger.”
“Good,” he said. “This gun’s a little different. It’s heavier for one thing, and it’s loaded with a… unique… ammo-”
“Don’t you give that whore a gun,” Rebecca said, standing up again.
Hollister walked over to her, getting into her space and putting his face very close to hers.
“Rebecca, is it?”
“Yes, my husband is the sheriff here,” she said.
“Ma’am… Rebecca… your husband is dead.”
“No… no… he’s outside. He…”
“No ma’am, he and all the other men who left you here are either dead… or they’re not men anymore. Now we need to stay together here, and keep fixed on getting out.”
Rebecca threw up her hands and cut her way through the crowd of women and children who were huddled in the corner near the small wood stove. She leaned into the wall and sobbed. One of the other women moved to her shoulder and consoled her, but Hollister thought he saw thinly veiled disgust on the faces of the others, even some of the older children. The sheriff’s wife was evidently not a popular woman, which made Hollister wonder about the sheriff.
He turned his attention back to Sally. “As I was saying… unique ammo. Aim for the chest and keep pulling the trigger until the gun stops firing… if you-”
“Major!” Chee interrupted.
Hollister went to the window again. The moon was over the mountains now and outside there were now five creatures in the street. The same three that had been there before, another man who wore a black top hat and a woman, dressed in a simple housedress. Across the street, hidden in the shadows of the buildings, were more creatures. Hollister stopped counting when he got to a lot.
“Dear God,” he muttered.
“I think God has very little to do with it,” Chee said quietly.
“What are they doing?” Hollister asked.
“Nothing. Just watching.”
As if they had heard him, the man in the ridiculous-looking top hat and the woman took a running start toward the building.
“Here they come,” Chee said, raising his rifle and taking aim. Before he could fire, the two things leapt in the air, vaulting off the hitching post in front of the jail, and jumped up onto the roof of the sheriff’s office. The noise they made scrambling over the roof caused the women and children to start whimpering and crying.
“Hush now,” Sally said quietly, picking up a young girl and balancing the child on her hip while she held the big Colt in her other hand.
“They do that every night. Get up on the roof and stomp around,” she said.
“Why?” Hollister asked.
“Don’t know. They ain’t tried to break through the roof. Lucinda said it was like they enjoyed hearing us get scared.”
The stomping on the roof continued, then stopped suddenly. Chee was motionless at the window, his rifle up and ready. Hollister went to the iron door and peered through the window. The cell-block was empty.
“Sally? A word please,” he said.
She lowered the child to the floor, patting her on the head and telling her she would be right back.
The young woman approached him at the doorway. The flickering lantern light inside the office made the sudden quiet more menacing somehow. In the dimness he could see the hard years in the lines of Sally’s young face. Hollister was willing to bet life had not gone the way Sally had planned.
“Got a question for you,” he said to her. “This jail, not that I’m not happy about it right this instant, but for such a small town I got to wonder… four cells with iron bars and a reinforced door to the cell block… a shooters’ port on the front door and window. I mean, it seems like a little bit of overkill. This isn’t a cow town, so you don’t have cowboys to worry about. I suppose the miners might get a little rowdy on payday, but why all the fuss for a small-town jail?”
Sally glanced over her shoulder at Rebecca.
“The sheriff… Rebecca’s husband… he is… well… was… a hard man. And ambitious. He liked to keep the order. What he said all the time anyway.”
“I see,” Hollister said. “I guess we owe him some thanks. Why does Mrs. Sheriff have such an intense dislike for you?”
“I’m a whore.”
Hollister shrugged. “Seems personal though.”
