them.
“If you want to stick with us, now’s the time to do it.”
Al Conroy showed his face first, and soon enough the three of them came down the ladder, with the son bringing up the rear. He closed the cabin door behind him, and Emma felt a smile curl her lips. The kid … Aiden really wasn’t half bad, and nothing as bad as his folks. But he was still their son and that meant Emma wouldn’t have to worry about him much longer. The Conroys wouldn’t be hanging around. Not if they had a chance to get away from the company she kept.
Good riddance to ‘em.
Turning to Eddie and Otis, Emma nodded her head to say they should move down the deck to the station house. At the far end, a small shack waited with the door cracked open and a light inside, which cast warmth into the chilly air. For a station house, it wasn’t much, but the deck was as sturdy as any she’d seen in Chicago City.
As a team, she and her two companions trudged down the worn planking, their feet finding ruts where carts had been rolled time and time again. New Orleans was supposed to be the biggest port city in the South, and Emma figured that had to be true enough.
But what gives with the junkyard down below?
Emma put her mind back on what was important. Getting settled in. Finding some digs, and fast. She and Eddie kept up their pace toward the station house. Otis limped along a few steps behind, casting his eyes in all directions, while the Conroys trailed at the back. Emma sniffed at their timidness, but she worried about Otis for a moment.
Why was he acting so cagey? He’d taken a few shots to the legs, but still . . .
A dark-skinned man pulled open the door of the shack when Emma and Eddie were a couple yards away. The man wore a dark rumpled suit, and had long ropes of black hair framing his round face. He laughed long and deep and waved with his hands, beckoning, as if he could pull Emma and her crew faster down the deck.
“It’s a cold day and the fire like to be growin’ colder,” the man called. “You berthin’ with Mistah Celestin Hardy. So come an’ pay your due.”
The man laughed some more and clapped his hands before stepping outside the shack. He walked to meet them and Emma could make out the lines of his face now. His lips were thick and full, his cheeks narrow, and his eyes set deep beneath a wide brow. He smiled big when his eyes met hers, but in an instant his face slackened and went sour with anger. Before Emma or Eddie could move out of the way, Celestin Hardy brought the muzzle of a heavy revolver to bear on them, and they both froze mid-step, hands raised.
“You bring dat one with you as a friend?” he said, motioning behind them at Otis. Eddie turned first, looking back at their companion. Emma echoed the gesture and what she saw put a chill right through her.
The Conroys had stayed back and weren’t up to speed on things yet. But Otis had a look on his face that said he knew all too well what was going down. And why.
“Didn’t do nothin’,” he said, backing away a step with his hands out. He still limped a little, but he made a showing of getting his strength back. “Didn’t do nothin’,” he said again.
Emma risked a look back at the man with the gat in his hand. Celestin Hardy’s eyes burned bright red with rage, and something else, too. Emma’d seen enough to know the world held secrets she’d never guessed were there, but what she saw now made her feet put down roots. She and Eddie both stood stock-still as Celestin Hardy approached and passed between them, his arm outstretched and the gun still leveled at Otis.
“You comin’ back now, boy? You comin’ back and sayin’ it wasn’t nothin ’?”
The man roared his words, and as he did a crimson halo of images swirled around his shaggy, dark mane. Emma flinched back in terror as miniature scenes of murder and torture swam in the air around Celestin Hardy’s head. Bodies flung themselves to and fro, jerking against the impact of
“If you want to stick with us, now’s the time to do it.”
Al Conroy showed his face first, and soon enough the three of them came down the ladder, with the son bringing up the rear. He closed the cabin door behind him, and Emma felt a smile curl her lips. The kid … Aiden really wasn’t half bad, and nothing as bad as his folks. But he was still their son and that meant Emma wouldn’t have to worry about him much longer. The Conroys wouldn’t be hanging around. Not if they had a chance to get away from the company she kept.
Good riddance to ‘em.
Turning to Eddie and Otis, Emma nodded her head to say they should move down the deck to the station house. At the far end, a small shack waited with the door cracked open and a light inside, which cast warmth into the chilly air. For a station house, it wasn’t much, but the deck was as sturdy as any she’d seen in Chicago City.
As a team, she and her two companions trudged down the worn planking, their feet finding ruts where carts had been rolled time and time again. New Orleans was supposed to be the biggest port city in the South, and Emma figured that had to be true enough.
But what gives with the junkyard down below?
Emma put her mind back on what was important. Getting settled in. Finding some digs, and fast. She and Eddie kept up their pace toward the station house. Otis limped along a few steps behind, casting his eyes in all directions, while the Conroys trailed at the back. Emma sniffed at their timidness, but she worried about Otis for a moment.
Why was he acting so cagey? He’d taken a few shots to the legs, but still . . .
A dark-skinned man pulled open the door of the shack when Emma and Eddie were a couple yards away. The man wore a dark rumpled suit, and had long ropes of black hair framing his round face. He laughed long and deep and waved with his hands, beckoning, as if he could pull Emma and her crew faster down the deck.
“It’s a cold day and the fire like to be growin’ colder,” the man called. “You berthin’ with Mistah Celestin Hardy. So come an’ pay your due.”
The man laughed some more and clapped his hands before stepping outside the shack. He walked to meet them and Emma could make out the lines of his face now. His lips were thick and full, his cheeks narrow, and his eyes set deep beneath a wide brow. He smiled big when his eyes met hers, but in an instant his face slackened and went sour with anger. Before Emma or Eddie could move out of the way, Celestin Hardy brought the muzzle of a heavy revolver to bear on them, and they both froze mid-step, hands raised.
“You bring dat one with you as a friend?” he said, motioning behind them at Otis. Eddie turned first, looking back at their companion. Emma echoed the gesture and what she saw put a chill right through her.
The Conroys had stayed back and weren’t up to speed on things yet. But Otis had a look on his face that said he knew all too well what was going down. And why.
“Didn’t do nothin’,” he said, backing away a step with his hands out. He still limped a little, but he made a showing of getting his strength back. “Didn’t do nothin’,” he said again.
Emma risked a look back at the man with the gat in his hand. Celestin Hardy’s eyes burned bright red with rage, and something else, too. Emma’d seen enough to know the world held secrets she’d never guessed were there, but what she saw now made her feet put down roots. She and Eddie both stood stock-still as Celestin Hardy approached and passed between them, his arm outstretched and the gun still leveled at Otis.
“You comin’ back now, boy? You comin’ back and sayin’ it wasn’t nothin ’?”
The man roared his words, and as he did a crimson halo of images swirled around his shaggy, dark mane. Emma flinched back in terror as miniature scenes of murder and torture swam in the air around Celestin Hardy’s head. Bodies flung themselves to and fro, jerking against the impact of
Similar Books
