“You think?” It was the first time he’d seen a glimmer of worry in his eyes. “I sent her a telegram. She’ll be expecting me.”
“I’ll always leave your room open for you. Just lose the law if you need to come back and hide out,” he said.
Cricket finally grinned. “You got it.” He slung his saddlebags over his shoulder, the necklace of hammered metal ticking against the faded pearl buttons of his shirt when he leaned over to slap himon the back. “Tell the girls I said goodbye. And take care of that preacher ‘til I get back. He’s too good for Ender’s Ridge.”
So are you, my friend.
If Decker could lend him speed to get home to his family more quickly, he would have done so. Instead, he just waved goodbye.
The stench of death hit him as soon as Laurie gave him permission to cross the threshold of the chapel, and it dulled his senses as he joined them, passing out more blankets and offering a few words of encouragement where they could.
Even Laurie was weary.
Standing in the middle of his chapel, surrounded by the dying people of the town he’d tried to save, his shoulders bowed. Laurie grasped at his Bible like it was his last hope.
Decker’s touch grazed across his wrist. “You should rest.” Laurie been up all night like the rest of them, but it was taking a toll on him. He held the souls too close, the weight of salvation a heavy load to bear even if few believed.
“They need hope. I need to do more for them,” he whispered. “And Willa—she’s getting worse.”
Sister Inez sat by her, holding her pale hand as she brushed away strands of hair from her damp forehead.
“There’s nothing more we can do,” Decker murmured, his thumb running across the thrumming veins of Laurie’s wrist. “You need to keep faith. For all of us.”
The door slammed, and Safine joined them, mopping sweat off her brow and carrying a steaming kettle. “No change from the last hour?” she asked as if she already knew the answer.
Decker shook his head.
Safine jammed her knuckles in her eye, a ragged sigh leaving her. “Can’t meet with Three Hawks and put his people at risk. I’m out of medicine for fevers; I used the last on Lee’s damn horses last week.” Exhaustion made her voice thin.
Decker wished he could tell her everyone would recover. But when Laurie knelt next to a spindly-fingered woman clutching a flushed young boy to her chest, Decker feared this might be the end of them.
The people of Ender’s Ridge didn’t become ill from human ailments—not like this. Never like this.
The one person who had known what was happening and had known they were going to die, Decker had killed to satiate his own selfish hunger.
“I could get supplies from Silver Creek. Sitara and I could make it there in an hour,” Decker said.
Safine lightly scoffed. “They closed the bridge for quarantine. By the time you rode through the hills, evenifyou could find what I need, it’d be too late.” She balled up her sweat-soaked handkerchief in the pocket of her apron, looking anywhere but at Willa lying on the bench.
A rotten feeling twisted Decker’s guts. “When did they close the bridge?”
“An hour ago.” She frowned at him. “Why?”
“Cricket told me he was going home. Must have been trying to get across before they closed it.” As soon as he said it he realized why the boy wore long sleeves and buttoned his shirt up to his throat.
“Stupid kid, he’s gonna spread it.” Decker was already yanking on his gloves and ducking through the back parsonage door to the barn. He flung open the doors.
The horses startled before they recognized him. Marshal was gone with his idiot rider, spreading the boils like a plague through Ridgewater and further. Decker swore and fell silent, trying to pick up familiarity in the sea of heartbeats. Safine, Laurie, Willa.
Decker hadn’t memorized Cricket’s heartbeat. He’d known him for years, and he never memorized his heartbeat.
The barn door slammed behind him and Decker darted into the empty road.
The unusually warm day fueled the stench of decay. A few people hadn’t trusted the chapel, and they slumped on the dance hall stoop, open wounds buzzing with fat, slow flies, dying like those they were feeding on.
Decker yanked the brim of his hat further over his eyes, squinting down the road. The young outlaw on a red roan trotted towards the crumbling bridge connecting the two towns.
Calling his name did nothing to stop him. Decker tried again, breaking into a run, sweat beading along his neck, steps thumping in a painfully human gait.
