Chapter 3
A New Life
Morning brought new patrons from across the bridge.
Only two young men who sat straight-backed in the corner and gulped their drinks behind wide, clear eyes. They bickered amongst themselves and cast furtive glances at Decker, then Safine when she sailed down the steps in rouge and heeled boots, announcing she was going to meet Three Hawks to replenish her stock of herbs.
She’d take Rotham’s horse with her. The barter system she and Three Hawks came up with years ago left his family in high standing and supplied Safine with local knowledge and medicine. Over time, purely business became something more akin to friendship, and the sharp-witted man often accompanied her through the hills on her visits, pointing out the sprawling, tiny blossoms of taopi tawote and the spiked purple dome of hehaka pejuta. Native practicality blended well with Safine’s craft.
When Decker accompanied her, he always paced behind and kept his distance—even though he suspected some of Three Hawk’s people were drawn by Ender’s Calling, they took care of their own and kept a wide, wary berth around Ender’s Ridge.
Seems like everyone else was also keeping their distance.
The saloon plunged into silence when Safine left and the two young men ducked out, leaving sweaty, crumpled bills on their table.
That damn newspaper article.
Decker had half a mind to pay the preacher a visit to read it now, before nightfall. Reading it sooner wouldn’t change a thing, and so he minded the saloon.
Main Street didn’t regain liveliness as the day dragged on—a few men trotted by, striking out for Amaretto as they took the more dangerous route through the desolate wasteland stretching behind the town, and two of the girls from the dance hall paraded through, flashing painted smiles and gauzy wings and seeking entertainment themselves when no customers arrived.
One amorite miner straggled in, running a hand through his long-neglected beard and asked about a barber—Decker pointed out the faded barber pole next to the long-closed bank, and said he’d have better luck across the river in Ridgewater.
The whiskey glasses sparkled after he wiped them twice, and even the cracked piano keys took on a shine when he polished them and sat to pick his way through a dull melody as afternoon faded to night.
Footsteps faltered at the threshold, accompanied by that swooping, pattering heartbeat. The song trailed off under Decker’s fingers.
Mr. Lane hovered at the door, crisp newspaper wrinkling in his hands. A delicate silver chain glinted around his throat under the loose eighth button of his shirt.
“Please keep playing,” he said. “It was a lovely song.”
Decker stood and slotted the bench away instead. “I thought a man from back East would have a more refined taste in music.”
Delight played against his mouth. “You’re a keen observer, Decker.”
“You’re difficult to miss.”
“Am I that obvious of an outsider?”
“I’m afraid so.”
The silence stretched between them, prickling and stiff.
Mr. Lane thrust out the newspaper. “I’ve read what I needed to. Please keep it.”
“I intend to.” Sinking down on the closest wooden chair, Decker scanned the columns. Ender’s Ridge wasn’t mentioned in the headlines of theSilver Star, which he was grateful for.
The bold letters printed onto the second page hammered into him like nails in a coffin.
Fifteen Gone Missing In Ridgewater’s Old Town:Travelers returning from exploits across the river have reported unnatural happenings and lost memories in this town of sin.
Unease crept along Decker’s back like frigid water.
Claims have been made of beasts beyond imagination and dens of iniquity.Has the Devil made Ender’s Ridge his home?
Even the Devil himself couldn’t stop the pang of fear that gripped Decker as the words echoed in his head.
Devil’s Town.
