60.
They began spreading the rumor at the Mine Shaft that night.
When Travis and Lirith first got to the saloon, it was emptier than they had ever seen it. A lone miner stood at the bar, and a pair of ranch hands were hunkered down at a table in the corner, but that was all. Travis doubted there were enough people in the place to transmit an especially virulent strain of the flu around town, let alone a story.
Lirith sighed. “I suppose people aren’t coming for fear of the Crusade.”
“That didn’t stop us,” Travis said with a grim smile.
As the daylight outside burned from fire red to ash gray, more people drifted into the saloon. They were a hard-looking lot, their hands dirty, their faces haggard. They drank their whiskey without a smile and played at Lirith’s faro table without uttering a laugh or curse. These were people who had nothing left to lose.
By dark the saloon was, if not crowded, at least no longer desolate. Behind the bar, Manypenny flipped through the pages of the ledger. “By Jason’s Golden Fleece, even if this blasted Crusade doesn’t burn down my establishment, they’ll still put me out of business.”
Travis looked over the saloonkeeper’s shoulder at the ledger. According to the figures in the last column, the daily take for the saloon was a third of what it had been just a month ago.
Manypenny slammed the ledger shut. “Those hoodlums have chased away all of my regular customers. Why, even Mr. Locke and his boys from the bank didn’t come in tonight.”
A fact for which Travis was glad. He supposed the sorcerer had promised Locke all kinds of rewards in return for gaining the scarab. Once Locke delivered the jewel, the Scirathi would give Locke whatever he needed to take over the town once and for all. Travis wasn’t certain what that might be. However, a picture of the thing that had been Calvin Murray flashed through his mind, and he shuddered.
Durge stepped through the swinging doors at nine o’clock— right on schedule. The knight paused near the entrance, surveying the room, his deputy’s badge gleaming. After a minute he headed for the bar.
“Did I do it properly?” Durge said in a low voice, as Travis poured him a sarsaparilla.
Travis pretended to wipe down the bar. “You were perfect. Everyone saw you come in, and from the way you looked around, they’ll all think you’re looking for someone.”
Travis moved to the other end of the bar, and Durge sipped his drink. Then, a minute later, Lirith called a break at her faro table and sauntered up to the bar next to Durge. The knight caught the attention of Manypenny, who brought a second sarsaparilla, this one for Lirith. She laughed and thanked Durge with a kiss on his craggy cheek. That drew the notice of more than one pair of eyes in the saloon. Travis knew many of the saloon’s patrons would have fancied a kiss themselves from the pretty Miss Lily, and no doubt they wondered how the deputy had gotten so lucky.
“You’ve hardly touched your drink, Deputy.” She draped her arm around Durge’s shoulders. More eyes followed this action. “Is something wrong?”
“I’m afraid so,” Durge said, his voice just loud enough for those nearby to hear. “You know the sheriff has taken ill? It seems others have heard the news as well and have decided to take advantage of the situation.”
Durge was a better actor than Travis would have guessed. His words were suitably grim, but there was also a private note in them, as if they were meant only for Lirith. However, Travis noticed a number of ears cocked in the knight’s direction. He kept wiping down the bar.
Lirith took a sip of her drink. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been hearing stories,” Durge said. “Stories that tell a gunslinger is coming to town, and that he plans on challenging the leader of the Crusade for Purity to a duel.”
Lirith lifted a hand to her throat. The witch was also not without dramatic skills. “A gunslinger?”
“That’s right. I’ve got to be on the lookout. They say he’ll be coming into town at sunset the day after next—a man by the name of Tyler Caine.”
The saloon was so quiet Lirith’s next words rang out almost like a shout.
“Tyler Caine the man-killer? He’s coming here to Castle City?”
The echo of Lirith’s words faded. She and Durge both cast suspicious glances around—a nice touch, Travis thought.
“I’d better go now,” Durge said. “I’ve got to keep a lookout for Caine. I don’t know who the leader of the Crusade is, but it doesn’t matter. I can’t let this Caine challenge him to a duel. No matter what a man’s honor might require, gunfights are against the law.”
Lirith touched his hand. “Be careful.”
Durge tipped his hat, then headed out the doors. A moment later conversation erupted, far louder than before.
“Did you hear that?” Manypenny said in a stage whisper that could have been heard a mile away.
“Hear what?” Travis said innocently, gathering up empty shot glasses.
Manypenny glowered at him. “Come now, Mr. Wilder, surely you heard the deputy just as well as I did. He’s coming here, to Castle City—Tyler Caine!”
“You can’t put stock in rumors,” Travis said, although it was quite clear Manypenny did.
The saloonkeeper smoothed his waxed mustache, eyes eager. “Whoever heads up this blasted Crusade for Purity, there’s no way he can win a duel against a gunslinger like Tyler Caine. By Jove, Caine is a bona fide hero.”
“I thought he was a murderer,” Travis said, only it didn’t seem that Manypenny heard him over the clamor for whiskey that rose from the saloon’s patrons.
An hour later, Travis finally got a chance to talk to Lirith. The whiskey had done its work, and the men in the saloon, dour and silent before, were whooping it up. No one overheard Travis and Lirith’s words.
“It’s working, isn’t it?” she said.
Travis nodded. “Right now I imagine rumors are flying all over town. I think people have gotten desperate. They’ll grab at any scrap of hope they can. It looks like your vision was right. Tyler Caine will come to Castle City.”
She laid a hand on his arm and met his gaze. “Will he really?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean Tyler Caine is a warrior skilled at wielding these guns which men of this world use for weapons. And you—”
Travis gave a weak grin. “And I’ve got two days to learn how to shoot.”
Travis got up early the next morning. He washed his face in the basin, picked up the straight razor Maudie had lent Durge, and looked in the mirror. He had kept his head and cheeks shaved over the last weeks by visiting the barbershop near the saloon, but he still had his goatee, and this was a job he needed to do himself. Concentrating on keeping his hand steady, he lifted the razor and scraped the whiskers from his chin.
When he was done—and the bleeding had stopped—all that remained of his goatee was a red-gold handlebar mustache. He took the wire-rimmed spectacles from the bureau, unfolded them, and put them on. Finally, from the bedpost, he took the black-felt hat Maudie had found in her closet the previous day, shaped the brim, and put it on his head. He turned around, and Tyler Caine gazed back at him from the mirror.
Except you’re not Tyler Caine. You look like the drawing on
the poster, but who knows how true that likeness is? It’s certainly not a very good sketch. In life, Tyler Caine probably
looks nothing like you.
Except Tyler Caine probably didn’t look like anything in life anymore. The stories were true; he was dead. Only Travis wasn’t, at least for the moment. He headed downstairs.
He wasn’t the only early riser. Lirith and Maudie were in the kitchen making breakfast. Durge and Jack sat at the kitchen table drinking tea. When she saw him, Maudie let out a cry and dropped the iron skillet of eggs onto the stove. She started coughing, then recovered and laughed.
“Why, Mr. Caine, you give me shivers just to look at you.” She winked at him. “Or should I say, Mr. Wilder.”
Travis cringed. “Let’s stick with the second one for now.” Travis had thought Maudie would be upset after he showed them the Wanted poster. Instead, she had been more excited than he had ever seen her.
“Why, it was the Lord Himself who sent you to us, Mr.
Caine!” she had said, beaming. “You’ll set things right, I know it. First you’ll rescue Mr. Samson, and then you’ll blast that Crusade right out of town.” She made her hands into guns, cocked her thumbs, and shot her fingers in all directions.
Travis didn’t have the heart to tell Maudie he had never fired a gun in his life. But insane as it seemed, it was the only way out. They couldn’t possibly fight the whole Crusade at once. Travis had to hope that Locke would take the bait and accept the duel.
And what if somehow you do manage to win the duel? What
then? You’ll still have to deal with the sorcerer.
At least with the Crusade out of the way, the Scirathi wouldn’t have servants to do his dirty work anymore. Nor would he have the scarab. Maybe that would give them a chance to get the gate back. Of course, they didn’t really need the gate, not if what Jack had said was true. All he had to do was use Sinfathisar.
No. He didn’t dare use the Stone; there was no telling what would happen if he unleashed its magic. And it was more than that. He couldn’t just leave this town, these people. It was his fault things were so bad; he was the one who had brought the sorcerer through the gate. And that meant he had to set things right, just like Maudie said. If he couldn’t, then what was the point in having all this power anyway?
Travis accepted a cup of coffee from Lirith and sat down at the table.
Jack let out a snort as he shook the newspaper in his hand. “I don’t see how they can call this news. I haven’t read a single story concerning London since coming to this town. Is no one here even remotely civilized?” He folded the paper and tossed it onto the table.
Travis stared. On the front page of the
Clarion
was a picture of a man: the same sketch as on the Wanted poster. BE ON THE LOOKOUT FOR THIS MAN, ALIAS TYLER CAINE, read the caption. HE IS CONSIDERED ARMED AND DANGEROUS. IT IS ADVISED THAT ANYONE WHO ENCOUNTERS HIM SHOOT ON—
Durge picked up the paper, crossed to the stove, and tossed it inside. “Perhaps you should remove your hat and spectacles for the time being, Travis.”
Travis did.
Lirith set a plate of toast on the table, then on her way back to the stove she stumbled.
Maudie moved to her, spurs jingling. “How are you holding up, sweetheart?”
Lirith managed a brave smile. “I’m fine, really.”
Except she didn’t look fine. She looked like she hadn’t slept in two days.
“I must say,” Jack announced in a loud voice as he dunked a piece of toast in his tea, “this town is quite barbaric, what with these dirt streets, the ruffians and hoodlums, that terrible disgrace for a newspaper, and sorcerers running hither and thither.” He waved a hand at Travis. “You’re a runelord. You really should do something about it, you know.”
“I’m working on it,” Travis said, gritting his teeth. He glanced at Lirith. “How is Sheriff Tanner this morning?”
“He’s alive, if that’s what you mean,” drawled a slow voice.
They looked up to see Tanner standing in the doorway. He was dressed, his cheeks and chin freshly shaved.
“And I suppose it’s Mr. Tanner,” he said, stepping into the kitchen. “Seeing as how according to Miss Lily I’m no longer the sheriff until I get her say-so.”
“That’s right,” the witch said briskly. She moved to Tanner, laid a hand on his brow, and shut her eyes. “You’re better!”
“Maybe I’ve got a spark of life left in me after all, Miss Lily.”
She smiled. “I imagine you do. But today you’re still
Mister
rather than
Sheri f
. You’re doing well, but you’re far from fully recovered.”
“I think I knew that already.” Tanner lifted a hand to the back of his head and winced. “It feels like I’ve been trying to waltz with an ornery mule.”
“Can I get you some coffee, Bart?” Maudie said.
“Thank you, Maude. That would be good.” He moved stiffly to the table and sank into a chair.
Liza came downstairs then. She had been seeing to Niles Barrett—the Englishman was still unconscious—and now she helped Maudie put out breakfast in the dining room for the boarders. However, the rest of them ate at the small table in the kitchen, where they could talk.
“I’ll need a gun, I suppose,” Travis said.
Maudie gave him a sharp look. “Why, surely you have a gun, Mr. Cai...I mean, Mr. Wilder.”
Travis opened his mouth, but Lirith was faster. “He lost it. Isn’t that right?”
“Well, you can use my gun, seeing as it does me no good.” With a shaking hand, Tanner pulled a revolver from the gun belt at his hip and set it on the table. It gleamed bright silver; the grip was carved of smooth ivory. “It’s a .45 caliber Colt Single Action Army. A Peacemaker. Although, back when I was with the US Marshals, some of the men liked to call it a Thumb Buster.”
Travis peered at the gun but didn’t touch it. It was big, the barrel as long as his hand, but sleek all the same. It looked powerful. And dangerous.
“I’ve never shot one of these before,” Travis said.
Tanner gave him a curious look. “A Peacemaker, you mean? It’s not so different than any other six-shooter you’ll have fired. It’s heavy, and the action’s stiff, but that’s about it. Though I suppose it would be good for you to practice some to get the feel of it.”
“That would be good,” Travis said, letting out a breath. “I’m a little...rusty.”
Tanner nodded. “I know a place we can go shoot. That is, if the doctor will allow me outside.”
Lirith crossed her arms, her expression stern. “As long as you ride instead of walk.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Tanner said.
However, it seemed Lirith didn’t entirely trust Tanner, as she decided to go along, as did Durge. The Embarran fetched a pair of horses from the livery, and Lirith and Tanner rode while Travis and Durge walked. Travis was worried someone might see them leave town, but the streets were deserted, and no one accosted them as they rode toward Granite Creek.
They stopped in a small gulch. On one side, scattered on the dirt slope, were mutilated tin cans and the shattered remains of glass bottles. So they weren’t the only ones to use the place as a shooting range.