Revenge and the Wild(75)

“No, it’s not because of stupid money. It’s because I’m with Alistair.”

“The mute?” he said with disgust.

Her eyes shrank into a glare. “And because you’re an ass.”

A smile pulled at the corner of his lips. “I am an ass and everyone knows it. You’re the only one brave enough to say it.” He leaned his head against her shoulder and promptly began snoring.

She laughed, nudging him awake.

“Come on, let’s put you to bed.” Westie helped him into the house and up the stairs to her bed. The oil from his hair made a black smear against her pillow.

Alistair stepped into her room, holding several glass bottles from the collection in Nigel’s office.

“Are you—” His voice cut off when he saw James. “What’s he doing here?”

“He’s not feeling well. Just found out he’s broke and went on a bender.”

Alistair glanced ruefully at the boy before looking away. “Oh, I see.”

“He’s going need a safe place to stay.”

“Yes, of course.”

“What are those?” she asked, pointing at the bottles.

“Rust, aluminum powder, and magnesium strips” was all he said.

“Well, what are they for?”

His eyes turned to slivers when he smiled beneath the mask. “You’ll see. We should be on our way.”

They punched the breeze to get to town. Once they made it, they tied their horses up in front of the general store, slinking among the parade of vendors and prospectors to get to the mayor’s office.

Alistair and Westie slipped into the alley behind the mayor’s office and found a window. Alistair hoisted her onto his shoulders so she could look inside.

“He’s gone,” she said.

She tried to climb off his shoulders but got her foot caught up in his holsters and toppled to the ground with a grunt despite Alistair’s best efforts to catch her.

Alistair’s metallic laughter bit at her patience. He tried to help her stand, but she pushed him away.

She cleared the web of hair from her face. “Let’s get on with it.”

They snuck through the back door. Once inside Alistair busied himself with the bottles he’d brought with him while Westie kept vigil. She imagined the things they would find in the safe, perhaps keepsakes from victims. She was sure the mayor knew about the Fairfields’ particular tastes. It was possible the mayor was also a cannibal. Maybe they would find the bones of victims, stuffed heads like the animals on his walls, or some macabre trophy inside—something they could take right to the sheriff.

They needed to find something to incriminate the Fairfields as well as the mayor. It wasn’t just about revenge for Isabelle and the family Westie had lost in that cabin anymore. The fate of the Wintu and the creatures depended on getting Emma up and running. For that, they needed copper. To get copper, they needed to be able to spend that gold. When people realized the gold was stolen from cannibals, they’d stop looking for the thieves. She was certain it would all work out if only the Fairfields were behind bars.

There was a burst of light and a searing sound when Alistair ignited the powder mixture. Within seconds the locks were off. “I’m in,” he said.

Westie rushed over to him, heart hitting her ribs like a bedpost in a brothel hitting the wall on payday. When she knelt beside Alistair and saw the single item inside, her excitement withered away.

“That can’t be it,” she said.

Alistair picked up the piece of paper with the list of names on it. Some of the names had been crossed out. “I’m afraid so.”

“Well, what’s it say?”

Alistair read the names to her. On the list were the Fairfields’ and the entire Lovett family’s names, written small and neat in black ink. Beside them were the names of Westie, Alistair, Nigel, and Amos Little, written in sloppy slashes of red.

“Amos Little?” she said.

“He’s a banker in Sacramento. I recognize the name.”

“I remember him,” Westie said. “We met at the ball. There seemed to be some sort of grudge between him and the mayor.”

She leaned over. “Why do you suppose the Fairfields’ and Lovetts’ names are crossed out?”

“I’m more concerned why our names are on this list.”

“Maybe it’s about Emma.”

“Maybe. If it is, why hide it? And why are some of the names crossed out?”

“I don’t know, but we should probably find out.” Westie groaned. “We’ll have to tell Nigel.” She wasn’t looking forward to telling him she’d been snooping around again behind his back.

“I’m afraid so. And I think we’ll need to have a chat with Amos Little too.”

“All right. Let’s get on with it.”





Thirty-Four


While Bena was there, Alistair broke the news to Nigel about him and Westie leaving for Sacramento. Bena always knew exactly what to say to Nigel to calm him down.

Westie went to check on James. The floor creaked as she stepped up to the open door of her room. He continued his drunken snoring without pause.

He looked so young sleeping in her bed. She was tempted to touch his cheek, tell him things would get better. Instead she got on her hands and knees, wriggled beneath the bed, and lifted the board, revealing the stack of gold bars. They’d need money on their travels, money she didn’t want to ask Nigel for. She pinched a piece of gold from one of the bars with her machine, put it in her pocket, then slid the board back into its place. It would be hard to find someone who would take raw gold as payment without alerting the authorities, but she was sure she could find some crook willing to make a trade in the city.