Revenge and the Wild(74)

Bena’s words triggered a memory. “No, they can’t, can they?” Westie said. She stood up, brushing the dirt off the back of her dress. “Not unless they’re keeping those secrets in an iron safe with three locks on it.”

Bena frowned. “What are you talking about? You have that look in your eye.”

“What look?”

“That terrifying glow you get when you have a plan.”

“I saw Lavina put something in a safe at the mayor’s office when we had our meeting. The safe had three locks. Doesn’t that seem strange to you?”

“No,” Bena said. “This is wild country and bandits aren’t unheard of.”

“If folks have something valuable, they keep it at the bank—Lavina should know that better than anyone after having her gold stolen. When you have a safe with three locks, that means you’re hiding something. I need to get into that office.”

“That’s more like it,” Bena said with one of her rare smiles.

The next morning Westie stood with Alistair in the great room of Nigel’s house. The clank of metal echoed off the walls as Alistair rifled though Nigel’s tools looking for something that could pry a lock from a safe.

“You do realize it’s schemes like these that get you into trouble,” Alistair said.

“I don’t see how I could possibly mess things up worse than I already have.”

He tossed a hammer to the side. “None of these will work. I’ll go check Nigel’s office.”

“I’ll go get the horses ready.”

Westie went down to the barn. She was glad for the chore, needing to spend some of her nervous energy. She didn’t like keeping secrets from Nigel, especially after what had happened when she took the Fairfields’ gold. Perhaps he would have approved of them breaking into the mayor’s office and might’ve even offered to help. On the off chance that he would forbid it, she thought it best they go alone. Besides, his faulty leg would only slow them down. What really worried her most was the uncertainty of what they’d find in the safe. What if it were just money? She pushed the thought aside and tried not to get her hopes up. The disappointment of such a discovery might be the last thread to break her.

She was lost in her own head when she heard the shuffling of feet on the ground behind her. Old habits got their grip on her and she spun around, expecting to see the Undying at her back with their grabby hands and snappy teeth. She relaxed when she saw it was only James.

“What are you doing here?” she said, trying to keep the pity she felt for him from showing on her face.

He wore a sloppy grin and held a bottle of Heck’s moonshine in his hand. His hair stuck out at all angles. She almost didn’t recognize him without his slick hair and expensive suits. Instead, he wore brown trousers, a rancher’s plaid shirt, and scuffed boots.

“I come to help with the chores.” Each word slurred into the next until it became a jumbled heap of sounds.

“What are you talking about? Or better yet, what in blazes are you wearing?”

“Oh, this?” he said, pointing to his shirt. One of his eyelids was so heavy he looked as if he were winking. “Trying on poverty to see how it fits.”

He spun around in a slow circle so she could get a better look, but lost his footing and stumbled into her. She caught him before they both took a tumble.

“Sit. You’re drunk.” If she hadn’t known the pain he was in, she might’ve laughed at him.

“I can’t sit. I don’t have that sort of leisure time anymore,” he said with dramatic flair as if he were on a stage. “I have to get a job!”

Westie wondered if the concept of work was so confusing that he had to get into character to make sense of it.

The act fell away and he looked at her with sad eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, even though she already knew.

“Haven’t you heard?” He flopped down on a bale of hay. “I’m broke.”

She sat beside him, taking his hand in hers. If he thought he suffered now, he had another think coming. Eventually James would learn that not only was he broke, but his entire family were cannibals.

“I hadn’t heard,” she lied. “What happened?”

He looked ready to cry. Westie hoped he wouldn’t. She wouldn’t know what to do with a crying man.

“I told Lavina not to keep our gold at the inn. There were all sorts of feral people going in and out of that place. It was only a matter of time before someone broke into our rooms and stole it.”

Westie squeezed his hand. He looked so much like a young boy sitting there in his crumpled state. She wanted to tell him not to worry, that his money was safely hidden away beneath a loose floorboard under her bed and he would get it back soon.

“There anything I can do?” she asked.

He looked up at her through glassy eyes. “You can help me forget.”

“All right. How?”

He leaned over and kissed her. She sat there a moment, her eyes wide, too stunned to move. She was afraid to push him away at first, afraid to crush his fragile heart. She used her machine to put an arm’s length of distance between them, gently so as not to bruise his ego.

“I can’t,” she said.

He sighed, turning back into a sad boy. “Is it because I’m broke?”