Tin Swift(27)

“Then tell us where the Holder is,” Alun said. “Don’t know why we can’t impress upon you how important it is that we find it.”

“More important that a young woman’s life?”

Alun sighed and nodded. “Aye, Mr. Hunt,” he said sadly. “I’m afraid so.”

All three brothers looked more like battle-hardened warriors than crazy miners out on a lark. He’d seen them get this look about them before. Where they suddenly seemed much older, much wiser, and much more world-weary.

“It wasn’t the Strange that killed these people,” Alun said. “It was the Holder. Or a piece of it at least. We think tin.”

“One piece of the Holder—”

“Tin piece,” Bryn corrected.

“—killed this entire town?” Cedar finished.

He knew the Holder was a weapon that could do a lot of harm. But this?

“And its poison will spread,” Cadoc said softly. “To the forest, to the streams, poisoning, destroying. Then it will reach the next town. And do the same again.”

It was a terrifying thought. That a single piece of tin could poison a land. He didn’t know if they were telling the truth, but it was clear there was no arguing them out of their hunt.

He put his boot on the edge of the wheel, then dropped down to the ground, landing in the mud. “This way.”

He stalked off down the street, following the call in his bones. The wagon rattled along behind him, and Bryn urged his horse up close so he could pace Cedar.

Wasn’t hard to find the building where the pull was coming from. It was only about five buildings down from where the Madders had stopped.

“That’s it.” He pointed at the square adobe and brick building. It wasn’t a house. It was the jail.

“Isn’t that something?” Bryn asked. “The jail.”

“Might be in a safe,” Cedar said.

Bryn tipped his head so he could look at Cedar through his good left eye. “Probably isn’t locked up tight. Most folk don’t know the value of it when they see it. Could just as much be down the privy hole.”

Cedar hadn’t thought about that. The Madders knew the Holder was a weapon whether in all seven of its parts, or connected to make it whole. But since each of the pieces had flown off on its own, just one bit of it wouldn’t look threatening enough, or likely valuable enough, to note. Well, maybe the bits made of gold, silver, or copper would turn a person’s attention, but not the plainer pieces of tin, iron, or lead.

“This the place?” Alun asked.

“Yes.”

“Good.” He set the brake, then kicked free the coupling on the horses, separating them from the wagon. The gear between the wagon and the horses fell to the ground with a squish and thump, and the horses whickered and jostled forward a bit. They were unhooked from the wagon, but still harnessed to each other.

“What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” Cedar said.

“Taking care of our needs, Mr. Hunt.” Alun swung down off the wagon and landed with enough force to shoot mud up to his elbows. “We need the Holder. If it’s here, we get it, and all leave town together.”

“Mr. Hunt?” Mae said. “Are we stopping now?”

Cedar walked up to Alun and grabbed his shirt. “If Rose dies because of this stop, I’ll dig out your guts with my hunting knife. Understand?”

“The day that you and I come to cross odds won’t end in both of us breathing,” Alun said without an ounce of fear. “Is that day today, Mr. Hunt?”

“When that day comes,” Cedar said, “you won’t have a chance to ask me, Mr. Madder.” He took a step back. “Re-hitch the horses. Now.” He turned toward the jail and strode to the door.

It opened easily. Seemed the whole of the town had been left unlocked when the Holder had killed them all.

He placed his palm on the wood of the doorframe. The echo of Mr. Shunt lifted beneath his fingers. Shunt had been here. The song was stronger than he’d felt before, which meant Mr. Shunt had spent some time here. Maybe a day, maybe three.

Bryn sauntered in behind him with a lantern and the big open room shot full of light.

In that light was a wide desk. And on top of that desk were fist-sized clumps of flesh, several piles of bones sorted by size, and a wide, bloody stain blooming out dark across the wooden floor.

“Think this is where the Holder’s hid up?” Bryn asked, as if a desk full of body parts wasn’t anything of note.

“That way.” Cedar pointed toward the hall. Bryn started off and the lantern light stretched bars of shadows across the ceiling. The jail cells must be down there.