'The bones have a way of building their own roads into the future,' he said, 'and then urging men to follow them. I did not choose to walk the roads of this Earth, but if I must, I will make my own trail…and choose my own companion.'
He reached out a hand and drew Mariah to him. She didn’t resist.
'What about me?' Colleen said softly. 'What about the child? Where will we go? What will I do?'
She turned and she scanned the ruined tent. Bodies lay strewn across the floor and the chairs. The night sky was clearly visible through the rent in the canvas overhead. The only sound was the child, suckling on the odd rubber nipple.
'You have us, child,' Lottie replied.
'You’re not alone,' Attie cut in.
'I reckon we’d like to throw our hats in that ring,' a voice cut in.
Everyone turned. In what had once been the doorway of the tent, Longman, Cy, and several others stood. Longman stepped forward.
'The tent is ruined,' he said, 'and we don’t have a healer. Doesn’t mean we can’t move on. Cy here – he has a voice people will listen to, and I’ve never met a man more versed in the scripture. The sisters…they have a purpose no matter where we stop. We’d be pleased if you’d join us.'
Colleen didn’t answer. She stood, and she rocked the child, tears streaming down her cheeks.
'There are a lot of dead,' Creed said.
'We’ll take care of them,' Longman replied. 'We will see them on their way.'
'Rookwood was a good town,' Creed added.
'We’ll stay a while,' Cy said. 'We’ll put things to rights.'
Creed nodded. He turned to Mariah.
'And what will we do?' he asked.
Mariah met his gaze, and then she glanced down at her guns, and her knives.
'I only know two things,' she replied. 'I know how to kill, and I know that – whoever and whatever you are – I have always loved you. That has not changed in this new life.'
Creed lowered his eyes, but a smile curled his lips. It was tragic, and bittersweet, but it was a smile nonetheless.
'There are others,' he said. 'Men like the Deacon, powers like Balthazar. They live on pain and suffering. They feed on misery and death. If this is to be my life, then perhaps stopping them is my purpose?' It was every bit as much a pledge as it was a question.
Mariah smiled. There was no humor in the expression, but there was love.
'The night is still young,' she said.
Creed grinned.
'That it is. Shall we ride?'
They came together, walking with their arms wrapped around one another’s shoulders, moving like twin shadows through the doorway of the tent and into the night.
Those few who remained stared after them. The baby burped, and the Sisters gave a soft chuckle.
Longman smiled.
Cy stepped to the door, watching the couple depart. The moon cradled them as they walked toward the horizon, both more than human, both damaged, both saved and forsaken, both fallen and risen again, both more together than they ever could have been alone. Cy spoke in his deep, sonorous voice: 'In the beginning, there was the word …'
'And the word was?' Lottie asked.
'Remliel,' Attie said.
'Amen,' Chessie whispered.
At that sound, a thousand crows launched from the trees by Deadman’s Gulch. Their cries sounded like a hymn of promise.
