Burn took him past. He ducked down and hung on, trusting Burn to get them clear.
“Guil!” someone yelled, far behind him. “Guil, damn your stupid hide!”
He didn’t look back. He rode low and Burn ran hellbent for as much distance as he could put between them and ambush—raced panting and reckless through the deep white of the road.
Signal shots, had been Danny’s first thought when he heard the gunfire—
He’d run out onto the porch, and then—then heard what sounded like an exchange of fire.
<Harper! > he thought.
Harper. Nobody else. Harper was up here on the mountain for one reason, and he hadn’t given up his hunt—it was Stuart; and it was Harper, too.
“What’s wrong?” Carlo and Randy were on his heels, coatless as he was as he ran down the street, rifle in hand, Cloud running along with him, and past him.
But he couldn’t answer, he was hearing <Jonas mad,> he was hearing <Jonas on Shadow,> taking off into the blizzard, he was hearing <Luke chasing him> and <Hawley holding Luke> while <horses > were headed for <fight.>
“Damn,” he said, and spun about and yelled at Carlo: “Get your coats. Get my coat! Come on!” He could see <Cloud getting into it.> Cloud was into it, <wanting fight> because there was <fight> in the air, and Danny didn’t wait for coats or the boys or a second, reasoned thought. He put on a burst of speed with the cold air burning his lungs, the pistol trying to escape its holster, and the snow hitting his eyes so he couldn’t see. The street was a straight line—if he stumbled over things in the snow he didn’t want to know what they were. He ran until he was close enough for Cloud to have to recognize he was in the situation. He wanted <Cloud!> loud and clear.
Luke and Hawley were mounting up to ride out. Right in the gateway he grabbed Cloud first by the mane to stop him from going out with the other two, then got a hand against Cloud’s chest and shoved him back.
“Dammit!” he yelled at Luke and Hawley. He meant two senior fools going out into the whiteout and leaving the gates open on him and two village kids. He was mad. He wanted <hands on them.> He wanted <beating hell out them.> They had no right, dammit. Harper was out there in the whiteout. Harper was near the village for all he knew.
But he couldn’t catch them. He couldn’t leave the boys.
The two boys came running up out of breath, carrying their coats, and his, and rifles. He was too hot right now to need a coat, but he put it on anyway, put on his scarf and hat that the boys had brought, and took the rifle they handed him. Cloud was fidgeting back and forth, wanting <chase horses,> but his rider wasn’t about to go off into the whiteout to find a pack of double-crossing sons of bitches.
Stuart—God knew what Stuart thought.
Or what kind of line he’d fallen for from Jonas.
Stuart’s friends. He couldn’t swear it wasn’t Jonas who’d fired.
“Our riders,” Carlo panted, <scared,> “didn’t come back.”
“I know, I know.” He wanted <gate shut. Jonas and Luke and Hawley begging to be let in again.>
Then he had a cold, clear impression they weren’t alone. <Horses, to the left,> and before he could say a word, he knew it was <Hallanslakers.> Cloud went on guard facing that direction, projecting <fight> and <shooting guns.>
What came back was <Harper and Quig> and what came shadowlike out of the blowing white right in front of them was two riders coming to the gate.
<Shutting gates! > Danny sent, and the boys moved while he put a round in the chamber and lifted the rifle to his shoulder, shaking in the knees, but not in the steadiness of his aim, which was right for center of the shorter one he mentally labeled <Harper.>
<Rogue in the woods,> he got back. <Quiet water. Quiet grass. Us coming in the gates.>
“The hell—shut it!” he screamed at Carlo, and kept his aim while the riders moved for the gate and two scared kids shoved the heavy gates shut and dropped the bar.
“Kid!” he heard Harper yell, the other side of the gates. “Kid, open up. Open it, or we’ll leave you for the rogue!”
<Harper frozen sitting at fire. Quig with icicles. Us warm. Ham cooking.>
“Son of a bitch! Open the gate!”
“You had your chance, Harper! You want supplies, we’ll give you supplies, right over the wall. But hell if I owe you anything but a cold bed in hell! Go find a shelter. You and Quig go tuck in for the winter and hope to hell I don’t come after you myself!”
<Rogue in the ambient. Bones breaking. Watt falling.> He sent that to them. That was what he remembered. And they didn’t like it.
Stuart had been there. Stuart had been that close to the gates and spooked off. He’d felt Stuart’s presence and Stuart might not know anything right now except someone here had shot a gun off at him. Jonas and company had gone after Stuart and might not intend to come back—which left him with Harper and Quig, sitting here in the biggest, most attractive stationary target the rogue had, if the Goss kids were right about their sister.
In that light he could use Harper’s help. He could use a couple of good shots and he didn’t want to think of anybody dying out there in the Wild the way all Tarmin village had died.
But Harper wasn’t interested in anything but Harper—Harper was damn crazy, dead set on shooting Stuart, for reasons that had gotten further and further from any reasonable fear of Stuart’s going rogue. Harper wanted into Tarmin gates because if the Westmans came back Harper might shoot all of them and have the supplies, and spend all winter hunting Stuart, if Stuart didn’t get him in his gunsights first.
There was no dealing with this man.
<Harper talking to Westmans,> came back through the gate. <Harper and Quig riding with Westmans through the snow.>
<Cattle,> Danny sent. Cloud added, <Cattle dung.>
“Who are they?” Randy asked. Randy’s teeth were chattering and he tried not to show it. Cloud was sending into an angry ambient, <bite and kick,> and violence shivered over his skin and down into his gut. “They’re not who we’re looking for. Are they? Where did Jonas and them go?”
“These two are thieves.” Danny said. “Damned bandits, is all. They’re up here hunting Stuart for some crazy grudge. I hope to God he got away clear.” It dawned on him Jonas might have kited out like that in honest fear that Stuart or his horse might have been hit and need help out there in the storm. Luke would have gone after his brother—no fault in Luke for that, or Hawley for going to protect him. But right now he wished Tarmin had a gun-box the way Shamesey had, because, damn, he’d dust Harper and Quig right off their doorstep.
“Kid,” Harper said, from the other side of the gate.
“My name’s Dan Fisher, Harper, get it straight.”
“Look—” Harper said. “Call yourself anything you like. One horse is no match for this thing. Who’s that with you? Kids?”
“You just camp right there, Harper. We need bait.”
“You’re real damn brave on the other side of that gate!”
“You’re real damn stupid, Harper. That’s why you’re on the other side of that gate.” God, he hadn’t lost a bit from his bad-boy days and Randy thought it was wildly funny. Harper clearly didn’t. Carlo looked a shade more maturely worried.
But Cloud sent <cattle rear ends> into the ambient, loud as Cloud could be.
“You damn fool!” Harper said.
“Camp out there. Be our guests.” He was thinking, <Jonas and his friends coming back, guns firing.> And wasn’t altogether confident of that fight going the way he’d like.