'The men that came here? Mr. Kane said he saw them leave carrying guns.'
'That's right. They took all Pa's guns. Even Oskar's squirrel rifle.'
'Did they get every last one? Wasn't your pa able to hide something from them?'
'Hide something! Are you crazy?'
'Sh-h-h.'
She lowered her voice, but there remained a tense squeak of irritation in it as she hissed, 'There wasn't no way my pa could of hid anything! Not hurt like he was.'
'They hurt him?'
'The boss one, he said they had come to collect weapons to distribute to the heathen Chinee. Pa told him to get the hell out of here. And Oskar stood up beside Pa, like he was ready to fight. But the big one with the long arms and the puckered-up lips-you know the one I mean?'
'They call him Bobby-My-Boy.'
'Well, he goes over to my pa and punches him in the stomach. Hard. Then he grabs both him and Oskar by their hair and he smashes their faces together. Three-four times! Then he lets go of them and they slump down and sit there on the floor with their noses bloody and their eyebrows cut. Then the boss tells my ma in a real sad voice how sorry he is that her menfolk needed to be done thataway, but she better give them all the guns in the house, because if he finds out that we've kept one back, then he'll get real mad. Well, you can bet Ma gave him every single gun. You can't blame her, can you?'
'No, but we sure could use a couple of guns.'
'Who's we?'
'Well there's… ' He almost named B. J. Stone and Mr. Kane, but he thought better of it. '… you know, the folks that are getting together to fight these men.'
'Fight them! Are you crazy?'
'Sh-h-h-h.'
'Sh-h-h-h your own self! You can't stand up to men like that! You'll get us all killed! Ma says they only want the silver from the mine, and the smartest thing to do is just let them take it. It ain't our silver! It ain't no skin off'n our butts.'
'But they're not just robbers. They're crazy. I got this terrible feeling, Kersti, that if we don't-'
'You're the one that's crazy! And there's no use you trying to talk Pa and Oskar into any crazy plan. They're busted up too bad. And Ma wouldn't let 'em anyway.' She poured the last can into a tin pail, the slippery peach halves making clumpy splashes. 'Now you get away from here, y'hear me? I don't want them men thinking any of us Bjorkvists are trying to do something against them, especially now that they've took Pa and Oskar up to the hotel.'
'What?'
'They came and got them just a while ago.'
Matthew was surprised that he hadn't seen them come out of the hotel and go down the street. Then he realized that it must have happened while he was sitting on the edge of his bed, off in the Other Place.
'If my ma knew what you was up to, you know what she'd do?' Kersti said. 'She'd tell on you, hoping to get on the good side of those men, so's they wouldn't hurt Pa and Oskar no more.'
'But Kersti, there ain't no good side to those men. They like hurting people. It's fun to them.'
'Just so long as they don't hurt us Bjorkvists! So you just stay away from here! And stay away from me!'
Matthew closed his eyes and pressed his lips against the screen. 'All right. I'll go.' He moistened his lips, and he could taste the dirty-screen-door taste that sent him for an instant back to his childhood. 'Kersti? You wouldn't tell those men that I been here trying to find guns, would you?'
'I don't have no reason to do you any favors, Matthew Dubchek. Not after the way you treated me.'
'I know that, Kersti. And I'm real sorry if I hurt your feelings. But you won't tell I was here, will you?'
She threw the empty peach tins into the trash barrel, intentionally making a clatter that caused Matthew to wince and look around into the darkness. She stared hard at him. Then she sighed. 'No, I won't tell. Now you just… just get out of here!'
'WAIT A MINUTE, MR. Stone. Let's take it one step at a time. We can't afford to make mistakes.' Mr. Kane's voice was hushed but urgent: urgent because they had to make a decision soon; hushed because they had not dared to light a lamp, and the only people who speak loudly into the darkness are drunks and those who are afraid of being thought afraid.
'You're right,' B. J. Stone said. 'I was getting ahead of myself. It's just that we don't have much time.'
A few minutes earlier, Matthew had slipped silently through the back door of the Mercantile and sat at one end of Mr. Kane's worktable with B. J. Stone and Mr. Kane to his left and right, facing one another. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he could make out their profiles, lacquered at the edges by moonglow that came in the store windows, making greasy highlights along their brows and down their noses, and causing one eye of each to glow against the black shadows of the store's interior. Ruth Lillian sat opposite him, her back to the window. Her face was in shadow, but myriad minute granules of moonglow were captured in her copper hair. Dim reflected light made faint smears in her eyes when she glanced from her father to Mr. Stone.
His sudden plunge from full moonlight to the absorbent darkness of the store, the hushed tension in the voices of these two one-eyed men discussing the menace brewing down in the hotel, Ruth Lillian sitting across from him, faceless, her hair aglow-it all felt to Matthew like some daydream place, some nightmare place. He had to remind himself that this was really happening… was really happening… really hap- 'I realize we haven't much time, Mr. Stone. But we must consider our options carefully,' Mr. Kane said. 'You may think I'm too plodding and cautious, but…' He lifted his shoulders in a tight shrug, a gesture that revealed his origins as much as did his slight accent.
Although these two men had been residents of Twenty-Mile almost from the town's chaotic beginnings, they had never exchanged more than the utterances of commerce and rote politenesses, but each had always recognized discernment and compassion in the other, and at moments of intellectual loneliness, each had vaguely wished that they had become friends.
'All right,' Mr. Kane continued, his repressed voice making his slightly dental final t's more pronounced. 'Let's begin with what we know for sure. These men have come to steal the silver shipment. Right?'
'Right. But of course they'll never get it. Not with sixty miners coming in on the train, most of them armed.'
'Ah, but these men don't know about the miners.'
'They do know. I told them.'
'You told them?'
'Yes. I was trying to persuade them that it was no use their staying in Twenty-Mile. But there's no reasoning with them. They're insane.'
Mr. Kane recalled Lieder's pale, suddenly empty eyes when he asked about his accent. 'Yes, all right, let's assume they're insane. What does that mean we should- What's that? What's going on?'
From the hotel across the street came male voices singing 'Rock of Ages' in a hesitant, lurching way. But the voices strengthened as they repeated the first verse, then repeated it again, and again… stronger each time.
With the first note, B. J. had lifted his hand for silence as he leaned toward the sound. 'That's funny. There's four-no, five men's voices. Who's over there with them?'
'The Bjorkvists,' Mr. Kane told him. 'And maybe others.' He went on to say that he had seen two of the strangers pushing Mr. Bjorkvist and Oskar ahead of them up to the hotel. Their faces looked as though they'd been beaten.
Matthew nodded, wanting to lend support to this version of what had happened, without revealing that he'd been speaking to Kersti.
'But, why did they want them at the hotel?' B. J. wondered aloud. 'And why in God's name are they singing?'
'I don't know,' Mr. Kane said. 'Maybe they're drunk. Or maybe…' His hands flapped.
The hymn abruptly stopped. Then came loud applause.
'Is it possible they're being forced to sing?' B. J. asked. 'That leader has a twisted sense of humor.'
Mr. Kane digested this in silence before saying, 'It seems to me there are two possibilities open to us. We can either sit tight and hope things blow over, or we can embark on some kind of action. The risks involved with
