“If the old coot saysholyone time, he’s getting blasted.”
Decker chuckled and rested against the chapel doors to dig in his pocket. He cupped his hand around the tiny match flame and brought it to the crumpled cigarette in his lips.
Rolled cigarettes were the one form of payment Cricket used, even though he knew he was always welcome at theGoose, no matter the amount of trouble following him.
You’d be in the way more than anything if you were here now. But I could use some of your luck right now, kid.
Decker breathed in the acrid smoke, and when it cleared, a ghostly form appeared in the hills. Inwardly, he stiffened. Outwardly, he took another drag of the cigarette and glanced at the roof.
“I see it,” Willa muttered from high above him.
Elias Lane appeared with the belief he was returning to his conquered town. Robes billowed and snapped behind him, stark white in the darkness like he was a purified vision of an angel. A staff hewn from twisted pine thumped in time with his steps.
He was alone.
Ground disappeared under his long strides and Decker took a deep drag of the cigarette. On the bank roof, he caught a glimpse of Callie Gibson as she crawled along on her belly and steadied her rifle.
The tobacco glowed. Elias approached.
Decker pinched the cigarette and whistled through his teeth. Children streamed from their hiding spots between the bank andNathan’s barber shop, mittened hands scrabbling for the strings attached to the hastily-made bombs lining the edge of town.
Pins clicked.
Strings came back empty.
Gunpowder scattered when Elias kicked one of the contraptions to the side.
Shit.
The washerwoman’s little girl shoved the string in her pocket and squared her shoulders, her pale face determined. Decker whistled again, harshly, and when she looked at him, jerked his head back towards the saloon. Nora’s job was done—she didn’t need to see what came after Willa pulled the trigger.
It didn’t work, but it’s alright. One line of defense down, five to go. Six, with Callie on the bank.
“Decker.” From the ground, Willa’s voice sounded faint.
The end of the cigarette singed Decker’s fingers and he flicked it away. “He’s about to say holy.”
“I can’t do it.”
He craned his neck up at her. Her face was frozen.
Decker had never seen fear on her.
“I don’t know what’s wrong.” Willa’s knuckles turned white around the barrel, and it lowered, scraping against the roof. Her breath iced the air in front of her, chest heaving, and she swiped her palms on her coat. “Decker, I can’t, I can’t—”
“Alright, take a minute.”
Elias reached the edge of town. Close enough that Decker could see the dirt crusted in his hair.
On the roof, sweet, life-toughened Callie squinted along her shotgun, her aim honed with the protectiveness of a mother.Human.
Human and completely unaffected by whatever darkness Elias had conjured to render Willa slack-armed atop the roof.
Elias stopped at the slight tilt of Decker’s head.
Fire bolted from the rooftop. Elias staggered back a step, his hand flying to his chest.
Callie Gibson chambered the next bullet.
