Devils Unto Dust(55)

The walls look even sturdier up close, the stones fitting snug against one another. I put a hand out and let my fingertips graze along it, the rock rough and warm from the sun.

Curtis approaches the two-door gate, reaching for one of the heavy iron knockers. It makes a loud bang that sets the whole gate ringing.

“At the gate,” he calls loudly, his voice half drowned by the banging.

“How many?” someone calls back from behind the gate.

“Five,” Curtis answers. “All well.”

There’s a scraping sound, and a grunt, and then the gate starts to open inward, revealing a young man standing between the doors. He has brown skin and a smattering of freckles, and he balances a long rifle against his shoulder.

“Garrett,” he says, surprised. “What the hell are you doing here this early in the morning?”

“Long story. How you been?” Curtis and the man shake hands briefly while we file in past the wall.

“Aw, you know. Can’t complain. Ben,” he says, nodding.

“Hey, Levi,” Ben says, tipping his hat up so he can see. “Now y’all folks I don’t know,” he says, turning his attention to the boys and me. “And I never forget a face.”

“Levi, this is Willie and Micah Wilcox and Sam Kincaid. We brung them up from Glory.”

“Glory,” Levi repeats, and whistles. “What the hell you want to live in Glory for?”

“Y’all, this is Levi Mason, one of Best’s finest gunmen.”

“Only one of?” Levi laughs. “I’m a better shot than you, Curtis. Nice to meet y’all.”

Sam and Micah mumble some pleasantries and I give a quick nod.

“You work the gate often?” I ask him.

“Now and then.”

“We’re looking for someone in particular, Harrison Wilcox.”

Levi chews on his bottom lip. “Name sounds familiar.”

“He woulda been coming through here the past couple days.”

Levi shakes his head. “I only got back from Savage yesterday, but I ain’t seen anybody leave since then. You might want to check with Yao or Clarence. Hunters usually keep to the bars, that’s where you’d find them most like. Sorry I can’t say more than that.”

I nod and give him a tight smile. “That helps. Thank you kindly.”

My eyes fix beyond Levi, on the city spread out before us. I’ve never seen the like; even walking through Silver didn’t prepare me for a town this size. I can’t see where the streets end, they crisscross and turn into further roads. Like Glory, many of the shops are boarded up, the lumber yard empty and the mill quiet. But the banquettes are crowded with displays of dry goods and dress forms draped in patterned cloth. Even early there are people in the streets, not hunters but normal folks just going about their day, ducking out of the drugstore and smiling at one another. There’s life here, real life that makes my jaw ache with want.

“You ready to find your pa?” Ben asks me.

“I reckon so,” I tell him, my mind racing. He’s here; I need him to be here. But I’ve got a question for Ben, too. “How the hell am I supposed to find one man in a city choke-full of them?”





44.


I stick close to the others; it’s too much for me, the sounds of wheeling carts and striking hammers and the smells of sour mash and smoked meats threaten to overwhelm my senses.

“Would you settle down?” Micah whispers to me out of the corner of his mouth. “Stop twitching every time you see something new.”

I punch him lightly in the shoulder; he’s as wide-eyed as I am, he just cares enough to hide it. I can’t help staring and craning my neck up; none of these structures are less than two stories high.

“This way,” Curtis says, leading us through a series of turns. “We always stay at Mrs. Keen’s when we’re in Best. You’ll like it, she’s—” he pauses, trying to find the right words. “Well, she’s the best cook in the south, though I’ll thank you not to mention that to Elsie.”

“Why would you ever leave here?” Sam asks, his eyes following a girl with ribbons in her hair and a basket full of apples in her arms.

“Have to, to work,” Ben answers. “Supply runs, patrols, fares when we can get ’em. So many folks turned hunter, there ain’t always enough jobs to go around.”

“Don’t it bother you, always bein’ on the move?” I ask, but Ben just shrugs.

“It’s that or stay in Glory, doing whatever dirty work the Judge needs doing.”

I snort in distaste and Micah frowns.

“So you don’t got a place you call home?” he asks.

“Ennis, I reckon, though we ain’t been there in months and it’s barely more than a patch. Part of the life.” It doesn’t seem near worth it to me, but then I’m no hunter.

“Here we are,” Curtis says, stopping in front of an older but cheerful-looking house. The front porch is swept clean and bordered by five columns, each one framing a window in between. The windows are repeated on the second story, these ones outlined with dark shutters.

We follow Curtis up the porch, the worn steps slick beneath our feet; the wood is old and sagging and smooth, sanded down from dust and boots making the same journey over and over.