Not a Drop to Drink

  Vera stood at the stove, boiling stream water for Lucy, with a concerned frown. The stove heated the little stream house so well that Lynn felt a trickle of sweat running down her chest.

  “I know you don’t like it,” she said to Eli. “But you need to know I wouldn’t do this if we didn’t need to.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “I’m not killing people for spite. This is about living.”

  Eli weighed her words, his gray eyes searching hers for answers. “What do you want me to do?”

  “The important thing is going to be distracting the ones on the ground. Once the tower sentry is out, they’ll be blind,” Stebbs said. “The man guarding the hall is capable, so he goes next. But that still leaves us with five men that can find cover and wait us out.”

  “Four, if we assume Green Hat is a decent fellow,” Lynn added.

  “Assume he’s not,” Stebbs said. “If he is, all the better.”

  “So I create a distraction?” Eli asked. “Something to draw everyone out?”

  “Exactly,” Stebbs nodded, pointing to the map. “I’m sending you out to set a fire at the hall. The stockpile is there. They need it to retain a position of power.”

  “Wait,” Lynn interrupted. “A fire? It’ll take a while to get one started. How’s Eli safe while he’s trying to set it? And how does he get past the guard?”

  “Your momma ever teach you anything about Molotov cocktails?”

  “Uh, no.”

  “Easy enough—gasoline in a glass bottle, stoppered with a rag that Eli lights. He tosses a few of those onto the roof and those shingles will go up in a flash.”

  Eli nodded in slow agreement. “Sounds good, but that still leaves the guard.”

  “It’s all in the timing. You hear that first shot take out the sentry and you’re running toward the hall. The men will be trying to figure out where that shot came from. The guard at the hall will leave his post to see if it’s the tower sentry doing the shooting. That’s your window to get in there and toss the fire.”

  “What’s his window to get out?” Lynn asked.

  “You and I and our rifles,” Stebbs answered as Vera pulled Lucy from his lap. She gave Stebbs a dark look that he either missed or ignored.

  Lynn shook her head. “I don’t like it.”

  “I’m the best option,” Eli said. “I’m quicker than you, and you’re a far better shot. With you and Stebbs in the trees, I’m probably safer there than I am sitting here talking.”

  Lynn looked down at her hands and didn’t answer. Stebbs continued. “The two important shots are the sentry and the hall guard. Once Eli sets the fire, they’ve got a choice; let their easy life go up in flames or risk our bullets. They’ll risk it, but her daddy’s a smart bastard. He’ll know what we’re up to and send people to find us while the others fight the fire.

  “Lynn, you take three good shots and then I want you to move to a new position. Best case, he only sends one man up after you and you can pick him off as he comes, then concentrate on the town.”

  “What about you?” Vera asked, her worried eyes searching his face. “How many shots will you take before you move?”

  “Sweetheart, I’m too old and twisted to be moving. Once I’m set up, I’m there for the duration. Hell or high water.”

  “Probably be hell,” Eli said. “We haven’t seen a lot of rain lately.”

  Lynn found his hand under the table. Her gratefulness for his humor couldn’t be expressed in words.

  “When do we go?” Eli asked.

  Stebbs and Lynn exchanged glances, the lightness of the moment vanished. “Before the sun comes up,” he said. “Eat well, rest, clean your guns.”

  Lynn squeezed Eli’s hand; she wouldn’t let go of him until she had to.

  They left the stream house together, not making excuses for their departure. They walked silently hand in hand toward her home. Lucy had been sleeping as they finalized their plans, and Lynn had settled for placing her hand on the little forehead in farewell. Her skin was soft and cool to the touch. Lynn didn’t think she’d ever be able to touch the little girl again without fear of feeling fever burning underneath her skin.

  “What did Vera tell her, about Neva?”

  “The truth, to a point. She told her that her mother made a sacrifice in order to save her, because she valued Lucy’s life over her own.”

  “That is the truth,” Lynn said, thinking of the last lingering glance Neva had given her, along with instructions to tell Lucy she loved her. “How is Lucy doing with it?”

  “As well as can be expected. She asks questions that are hard to answer, and she’s quiet for long periods.”

  Lynn snorted. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  They went downstairs together. “I want to give you a handgun,” she said. “I’ve got a few. I won’t have you on the ground unarmed.”

  “Stebbs has been letting me borrow his rifle to shoot, but I’ve never even touched a handgun, country girl.”

  “We’ll practice now.”

  He took her hand, guiding her over to the cot. “There’s better ways to spend our time. I’m not standing out in the cold and the dark shooting a gun when I could be warm in here with you.”

  “You’ll regret it.”

  He pulled her down next to him and she rested her head against his shoulder. “I’ll regret it more if these are our last hours and we spend it with a gun instead of each other.”

  Lynn leaned into him. “Don’t talk like that.”

  “Besides, Stebbs told us to rest.”

  “Yeah,” she teased. “Rest.”

  “I don’t want anything more than to hold you, Lynn.”

  His arms encircled her and she felt the calm that always came with him welling up from a place she’d thought only Mother could touch. She turned her face into his chest so that he couldn’t see her tears as she cried quietly, knowing that Mother would have never risked her own skin for the sake of others. In a few hours, Lynn would climb a tree miles from her own pond to fire bullets she couldn’t spare so that Eli, Lucy, and countless strangers downstream could have a drop to drink. She inhaled Eli’s smell, buried her face deeper into his chest, holding on to him until the world would make her let go.

  Twenty-one

  It was bitterly cold when they emerged in the dead of night to meet Stebbs. They huddled together for warmth, not even bothering to tease the older man when he came from the direction of the stream, rather than his own house. When he handed a backpack to Eli, the fumes of gasoline rolled off him in waves.

  “Careful with that, that’s the last of the gasoline I had stored up in my basement,” Stebbs warned as Eli shouldered it. “Here’s a lighter. Didn’t want to take the chance of a breeze with matches.”

  “How long’ve you had a lighter?” Lynn asked.

  He shrugged. “Since forever.”

  “Asshole.”

  They headed south and walked in silence, except for the clinking of the bottles in Eli’s backpack. When they reached the ridge, Stebbs gave her a foot up into her tree and Lynn settled onto a thick bough. They moved off toward the east, where Stebbs had found a suitable place to take his own shots, nearer town. Eli would wait with him. Eli’s good-bye was quick and silent, the flash of a white hand through the darkness as he waved. Lynn unstrapped her rifle and tucked her handgun into the back of her waistband. A light snow began to fall as she waited for the sun to rise.

  When it did, it came fast, the gray predawn haze burning off quickly as the sun peeked over the horizon. Lynn could see men moving inside the houses, their dark forms anonymous behind the curtains. The sentry had not come out yet. She shifted position and dried her palms on her jeans. The hall guard emerged, pissed in his yard, and made his way to his post. Roger led the cow out to pasture. Her father appeared on his porch, coffee in hand. Her gaze skittered off him, nervously.

  They had agreed that though he was the leader, it was important to take the sentry and hall guar
d out first. Her father had won third place in that lottery. Lynn’s first shot was for the sentry, Stebbs’ the hall guard. After that they would fire at will, each picking their own target. Lynn had not argued, though she hoped it would be her bullet that downed her father.

  She watched him through her scope, wondering what Mother would feel to know that the smoke from the south was caused by a fire from her past. Father was a conversation that never happened, a ghost that had never lived. Lynn had always believed he was dead, and perhaps Mother had as well. But he was alive and had never come for them. He’d abandoned them, and the only thing she’d ever give him would be delivered through the talents Mother had wanted her to master. There was comfort for her in the idea that the shot she’d fired too late for the coyote might be redeemed yet. His face in the crosshairs made her finger curl around the trigger, anxious for the only comfort Mother could offer from the grave.

  Father spat out his first mouthful of coffee and crossed the road to where the hall guard sat, rifle across his knees. They exchanged words. Her father shook his head and walked over to the yellow house where the women were kept and pounded on the door until Blue Coat answered. He went inside, and the tower sentry emerged moments later, shrugging his coat over his shoulders.

  Lynn tracked him to the tower, waiting for him to settle onto his perch before clicking the safety off her gun. She could only assume that Stebbs was watching as well, that Eli was prepared for her shot. She flattened her torso and inhaled, holding the breath.

  She fired. From that distance the features of the sentry’s face were unclear, but the bullet’s exit was easy to see. A spray of blood rained down from the tower, followed quickly by his rifle, then his corpse. They reacted to the shot before his body hit the ground. Men erupted from the houses like bees from a disturbed hive; pale faces pressed against the windows in the upper floor of the yellow house.

  Lynn spotted Eli speeding up the near bank of the stream as the hall guard rose from his chair, head cocked in a question. The guard shouldered his rifle, shouting at the other men as he crossed the parking lot for a good look at the tower. Her father ran toward the men, shouting directions. Lynn drew a bead on him just as Eli came into their view, the lit Molotov dangling from his hand. He threw it in a graceful arc, all eyes trailing it as it exploded in a river of fire onto the shingles.

  Her father’s reaction was immediate. He yelled at the hall guard, who spun on his heel. Stebbs and Lynn fired at the same time, her crosshairs trained on Father. He fell, clutching a shattered shoulder. His hand dangled lifeless from the dead arm, his gun useless on the ground. The hall guard dropped to his knees and fired at Eli before Stebbs’ bullet could reach him. The guard’s brain exploded through the back of his head, but not before his bullet hit Eli’s backpack.

  Eli became a living ball of fire.

  Lynn screamed from her perch, watching helplessly as the arms that had held her only hours ago pinwheeled in agony. Drops of liquid fire flew from his fingertips and sputtered out on the road. She knew exactly how many bullets she had and could afford to waste none. One shot could deliver him from his own gasoline-soaked skin.

  The bullet seemed to fly slowly, protracting every second of his torment. Lynn kept her eye to the scope, unable to look away from the path of the only bullet she had ever fired with love in her heart.

  Lynn dropped to the ground and rushed downhill toward town. The smell of smoke was strong in the air. Black plumes rose above the hall roof. Stebbs was firing, but she had no view and didn’t know if his shots were finding their targets. She flew downhill, arms spread wide to keep her balance as she ran.

  Roger was running uphill to meet her, rage contorting his face. She ran directly at him, her own fury disregarding the gun he held as she launched herself directly at him. Their bodies collided, and the stale reek of male sweat folded over her as they rolled downhill together, hands grabbing for purchase on each other’s bodies. She gained her feet first, but he took her knees out from behind with his rifle stock. Lynn landed on her belly, the breath knocked out of her. He straddled her back and her lungs flattened farther as he pulled her head back by her hair.

  “What’cha think you’re doing, girl? Playing war games?”

  He drove her face downward into the ground and she struggled against him. She tried to breathe, but inhaled only dirt. He pulled her face back up, taunting her.

  “Men got two guns, you know. One for now,” he tapped the barrel of his gun against her nose. “And one for later.” When his free hand went to his zipper, she twisted underneath him, bringing her knee into his groin and pulling her knife from her boot.

  “Mother taught me to carry a knife for always.”

  She left him holding his intestines in disbelief as she disappeared down the hill, his gun tucked securely in her waistband.

  She slid to a stop in a clearing and dropped onto her belly to scan the village. Blue Coat disappeared inside the yellow house, emerging at a downstairs window with his rifle. He was pulled down in a flurry of white hands and kitchen knives. Green Hat was the only man attempting to stop the fire, but he was armed with a single bucket and losing the fight. Black Beard was running to the east, whether to escape or find Stebbs she didn’t know. One bullet dropped him; her second shot finished the job. Her father had staggered into a blue house in the middle of town. Lynn saw a bloody hand draw curtains on the first floor, but it was the only flicker of movement. Green Hat had given up, his bucket sat at his feet while he watched the hall go up in flames.

  Lynn scanned the trees, spotted Stebbs awkwardly making his way down from his post to the east. She fired a warning shot at Green Hat’s bucket, sending it ten feet in the air. He backed away, his hands up. Lynn emerged from the brush at the foot of the hill, her rifle trained on him.

  “I got no issue with you,” he said, voice shaking. “Though I know you got reason to have one with me.”

  Lynn wandered onto the road, uneasily scanning the houses on either side of her. She spat some dirt from her mouth, ignoring the trickle of blood running down her neck from a gash that Roger had given her as they fell. Green Hat eyed her uneasily, raised hands shaking.

  “You armed?” Lynn asked.

  “No.” He spread his jacket to show her. “Never much liked the feel of a gun.”

  She relaxed her grip on the rifle as Stebbs came into town from behind the church, his own gun trained on Green Hat. “He all right?”

  “Don’t think he’ll be a problem,” she answered, and Stebbs lowered his gun.

  “Jasper’s in the little house there,” Green Hat said, gesturing toward the blue house Father had gone into. “You winged him good, but he was moving okay last I saw. He lost his gun when you shot him, but that don’t mean he’s not dangerous as hell. There’s still a truck out, too,” he went on. “Four men, though I doubt they’re the type to come back if there’s trouble.”

  “We know,” Lynn said stiffly, handing her rifle to Stebbs. “There’s a man up the ridge that might call a bullet a favor.”

  Stebbs glanced at her bloody face. “I s’pose I don’t feel much like granting favors today.”

  Lynn nodded and backed away from him, forcing herself not to look at the smoldering black heap that had been Eli. The door of the yellow house opened and the youngest girl stepped out, the edges of a blanket clutched in her bloody hands.

  “Emma!” Green Hat yelled, Stebbs and Lynn having vanished from his mind as he ran toward her. “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head and leaned against him. The other two women appeared in the doorway, glancing warily at Stebbs and Lynn.

  “What are you going to do?” Stebbs asked Lynn.

  She checked her handgun before answering, handing Stebbs the extra she had taken from Roger. “I’m going to go have a talk with my father.”

  “Careful.”

  “I will be.”

  “I’m sorry as hell about Eli,” Stebbs said, not meeting her eyes. “I got that shot off as soon as I
could.”

  “It is what it is. I got other worries right now,” she said as she walked away from him, her hammering heart screaming at the lie in her words.

  “Careful there, lady,” one of the women yelled at her. “He’s a mean bastard, that one is. And tricksy.” She touched a darkening bruise on her face as she spoke.

  Lynn tightened her grip on the gun as she opened the front door.

  Bloody footprints led her to the kitchen where her father sat at the table, slumped and pale. His right hand cupped the remains of his left shoulder; bone fragments jutted out between his fingers. He summoned the energy to look up at her as she walked in, but his head dropped back to his chest immediately. A slow smile spread across his face.

  “The boys told me you was a pretty girl,” he said with his eyes closed.

  She approached the table cautiously, her finger curled around the trigger and ready to fire. “You know who I am?”

  His eyes cracked open and he gave her a long, assessing stare before they closed again. “Have to be blind not to. You look just like her. Don’t think there’s a bit of me in you.”

  Even bleeding and maimed, he was an imposing man. The bulk of his body spoke of capability, the shine of his eyes held unvented malice. “There may be a bit yet,” Lynn said as she circled around behind him, checking for weapons.

  “I don’t have a gun,” he said. “Funny thing about your shoulder exploding, it makes you drop whatever you’re holding. You ever been shot?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You may as well have a seat and relax,” he said calmly, closing his eyes again. “Not like I’m gonna harm my own flesh and blood.”

  “’Cause you can’t or ’cause you wouldn’t?” Lynn asked, lowering herself into the seat opposite him, her gun still trained on his chest.