Between the Marshal & the Vampire(37)

"The Marshal's his own man. If he's content to be a coward, I can't stop him from being one."

Vellum's blithe reply filled her with fury. Men were such ignorant bastards. It was a miracle this was their first fight between them. Her shoulders slumped. But why did it have to be so devastating, and this near to the end of the journey, when it mattered most? It was time to decide on a future, but right now they were torn apart.

This is why people told you not to dream of a life outside Willowtown. Fantasies are meant for your head. They can't survive outside of it. They're not meant to.

She and Vellum mounted and followed the path that Clay had taken. Mariel tried to engage Vellum in conversation in hopes of getting him to open up about what she'd glimpsed on his face after his fight with Clay, but the vampire was as elusive and unknowable as the night shadows. She eventually gave up, and rode through the desert as though she were alone, which was exactly how it felt.

It was a relief when sunrise neared and they came upon Clay, who'd already set up a camp for them. The Marshal barely glanced at Vellum, but he was polite and attentive toward Mariel, which only served to aggravate her since she could tell he was behaving that way just to irritate the vampire. Vellum, for his part, remained disengaged, interacting only briefly when he set a canteen on the ground beside Clay and Mariel's bedroll. Though he typically bade them goodnight, this time he climbed into his crate and pulled the lid over himself like a sulking boy hiding beneath a blanket.

"You two are impossible," Mariel grated out as she turned her back on Clay and closed her eyes.

He snorted where he lay beside her. "A few more days, Mariel. Then things will be the way they should be. I'll prove it to you."

She kept her silence, not sure she agreed with his opinion on how things "should" be.

She didn't expect to sleep after all the drama, but apparently it wore her out, because the next thing she knew, an elbow jabbed into her side, shocking her awake.

"Gave me a good run, you did," said a voice she didn't recognize.

Heart pounding, she slowly rose onto an elbow. Clay had done the same, most likely to shield her from the view of the bandit who stood a few paces away.

She didn't recognize him, but she knew who he must be: a surviving member of Beaufort's gang. The man was covered with dirt, and his scraggly beard was dusted with burrs. But the pistol in his hand was shiny enough to catch the red glow of sundown. The gun looked like blood in his hand. He cocked its hammer back ominously.

"You gonna make me waste a bullet on you, Marshal?" the man spat a dark stream of tobacco across Clay's boot.

"I'd like to save you two bullets by advising you to turn around and ride off as though you never found us," Clay replied evenly. "A smart man would do just that. Your leader's on the verge of certain hanging and the rest of your gang are dead. Just ride away, and no one will know who you once were and what you did."

"Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Make life simpler, huh?" The bandit rolled his neck. Mariel groaned beneath her breath with dread when the man glanced over at Vellum's sleeping crate. "What you got there, Marshal? Transporting somethin' as valuable as the pretty lady? Maybe some gold? Or guns?"

Clay shrugged. "Why don't you lift the lid and find out for yourself? Not like I can stop you."

Mariel stared, aghast, at the back of Clay's head. Anger and betrayal stabbed her through the heart.

"What are you doing?" she gasped. "The sun's still up!"

"It's fine," he muttered, his expression hard.

It was then that she knew, and she was horrified.

"How could you?" She punched him in the back of the shoulder, though his big body barely registered the hit. "He's not the monster. You are!"

"Be quiet, Mariel," Clay said calmly as the bandit sauntered over to the crate, his curiosity and greed piqued by the mystery of it. "It's easier this way."

"Just because he forced you to face your feelings you're willing to end his life? You're despicable!"

Her stomach heaved. She thought she might be sick all over him, and it wouldn't be half of what he deserved.

Unable to sit by while the bandit lifted the crate's lid and burned Vellum alive, Mariel rose to her knees. Clay grabbed her by one arm and yanked her back down. "Mariel, don't interfere!"

"You bastard!" She punched him again. "I hate you!"

Muscles jumped in Clay's jaw as he held her away from him. "Leave off, Mariel. You don't know what you're doing."

Crying, she flung herself away from him. How could she have misread him so much? She regretted every smile she'd bestowed on him, every kiss. And yet deep inside, she mourned the loss of Clay. He had been the type of man you fell in love with and married. Who kept you smiling for the rest of your years.

"If this is a trick, like you got a rattler in here, I'm raping your woman twice before I kill her," the bandit warned as he paused with one hand on the crate's lid.

"No rattler," Clay ground out angrily.

Bleary-eyed, Mariel raised her head to watch. She owed it to Vellum to watch the last few seconds of his life. I'm so sorry I dragged you into this.

The bandit reached for the lid.

A single shot rang out, making Mariel jump. The bandit looked down at the crate. Then he reached up and fingered the dark hole that had appeared at the base of his throat. He opened his mouth to speak but only blood poured from his mouth. He topped sideways over the crate and to the ground.