Dead Iron

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Rose Small knew the new day would bring new people out to find them. And if the town had wanted to burn Mae as a witch before, she knew once they got an eyeful of this mess, they wouldn’t wait for a slow flame to kill her this time. It’d be the noose for all of them, and it’d be fast.

She had found the water barrels and washed up Elbert. He wasn’t talking, but he didn’t let go of her hand. Eventually, he’d seemed content to sleep while she kept him propped on her hip. The wolf and Mr. Cedar Hunt slept, and Mae finally let Rose lead her to one of the water barrels so she could wash her arms and face.

Rose walked back to where Cedar Hunt slept, and pulled her canteen from her belt and sloshed the water a bit. She uncorked it, took a long drink to soothe her smoke-burned throat, and steady her nerves.

“It’s time we be going, I think,” she said, though she didn’t know who among them was listening. “We’ll need to get little Elbert back to his family and the rest of you somewhere out of the town folk’s eyes.”

Cedar Hunt stirred.

He slowly sat, and Rose watched as a cool breeze brought him to realize he was naked, except for the blanket she had covered him with. He situated the blanket around himself so it covered him in a more civilized manner.

Rose did the proper thing and looked away until he got himself decent. When she looked back, Cedar Hunt had one hand on the wolf who was still drowsing, and was looking out across the rubble, taking in the damage around them. He looked sorely exhausted. Sounded it too.

“Clothes, and food, if we have them,” he whispered hoarsely.

“I can find that for you. You’ll be all right, then, here with the wolf?”

Cedar looked back at the wolf and a serene sort of ease crossed his face. “I’ll be fine. The boy?” he asked, as if dredging deep dreams.

“Shook, but breathing. And Mae’s whole too. Mostly.” Rose nodded. Cedar Hunt’s gaze followed to where she still stood near the water barrels, face tipped to the sky. He swallowed hard and looked away.

Then: “The Madders?”

Rose shrugged. “Ran off into the night as soon as that device flew into bits.”

“Ah,” he breathed. Cedar closed his eyes, and drowsed, sitting.

Rose shook her head. There was no one but herself to take care of things. It wasn’t easy, but she managed to round up a horse and wagon and hitch them up, while still juggling little Elbert. Mae wasn’t in her full senses, but climbed into the back of the wagon, and thank God and glim, Elbert was content to curl up with her.

It took a little more coaxing, but Rose got Mr. Hunt and the wolf into the wagon too. As a last thought, Rose set the railcar on fire—just the one that had held the doorway and those wicked Strange. She wasn’t sure if there was enough fire in the world to destroy that evil, but wasn’t about to leave it out here for folk to find.

She climbed up into the wagon, kicked the brake free, and flicked the reins, guiding the horse away from the rail. The wide cleared area up and down the rail looked like a battlefield. Broken metal, steaming piles of gears, coils, and tubes, carved eerie shadows in the early-morning light. The still forms of dead rail workers sent a chill up her spine. That could just as well be her on the ground, could be Mae or little Elbert. She held tighter to the rifle and headed up the tracks and around the slight curve in the hill. She’d go to Mr. Hunt’s cabin, figuring it was the only home among them that was still standing, and not in plain sight.

Birdsong, late to the morning, had started up slow, but now filled the air. Rose took a deep, full breath, wishing the new morning could clean her of the long night’s pain and fear. But it would take more than a clear dawn to take away this horror. It had been a hard night. Still, her friend was alive, and so too were Mr. Hunt and Elbert. She was grateful for that. Grateful she had lived to see the day.