“What?” I say.
“Fuck,” Dalton mutters. “Let me guess. Edwin and Felicity haven’t returned from Rockton, and you think we’re holding them hostage.”
Moses shoots a look at Angus. “We are not accusing anyone. All we know is that my daughter and my father-in-law went to Rockton and didn’t return.”
“Daughter…” Dalton breathes. A quick glance at me. “Fuck.”
“Okay,” I say. “Everyone’s freaking out and we all need to calm down. Yes, Edwin and Felicity came to Rockton. We spoke to them, and they left.” I lift my watch. “Almost four hours ago—half a day.” I look up at Moses. “I understand that you’re worried, but think about it. What possible reason would we have for taking them hostage?”
“Yeah,” Dalton says. “Best way to deal with complaints is to lock the person up. Then go investigate the case they came to complain about. Makes perfect sense.” His hard gaze sweeps the trio. “Edwin is an asshole, and I don’t want him around a minute longer than necessary.”
“Then you’ve hurt them,” Angus says. “You’re a very angry man, and you lost your temper and hurt them and now you’re holding them captive.”
“A very angry man,” Dalton mutters. “Nah, kid. Right now I’m a fucking furious man. Because the assholes we just saved turned their weapons on my wife—two minutes after she escaped a grizzly bear.”
“Nobody in Rockton hurt Edwin or Felicity. I think you two”—I nod to the men—“know that. You realize they left town of their own free will. The problem is that they’ve gone missing, and if you return home and say so, people will presume we took them. You need to be able to say you crossed that off the list first, by coming home with me in tow as a hostage.”
“Except you don’t actually need to do any of that,” Dalton says. “You could just thank us for saving your asses and then tell us what happened, and let us help you figure out a solution. All that works a helluva lot better when you aren’t holding a gun to our heads.”
“We need leverage,” Moses says. “Whether you have Edwin and Felicity or know something about their disappearance or can help us find them. You will do none of those things without cause.”
“Interesting hypothesis,” Dalton says. “You know the problem with a theory? It remains theoretical until you actually fucking test it. You refuse to collect the empirical evidence required to make this one anything more than a goddamn theory.”
A look passes behind Moses’s eyes. It’s the same one Dalton gets on hearing unfamiliar words—that mingling of confusion, shame, and anger—and I’m about to cut in when Dalton says, “Test your damn hypothesis. Ask us for our help. See what you get.”
“Make him stop talking,” Angus says. “This is what he does. He talks and he talks and he talks, with big words to make us feel small.” He steps forward, knife raised. “Stop talking.”
“Or what?” Dalton says, meeting his gaze.
“I’ll make you stop. By cutting your tongue from your head.”
Dalton’s gray eyes chill. “So your sister wasn’t the only—”
Angus lunges, knife flashing. Dalton’s fist slams out, hitting him in the arm, knocking the knife aside, and then, in a blink, he has Angus in a choke hold and I have my gun out, and there is a moment of chaos—everyone shouting—and then silence. Utter silence as everyone freezes into place.
Dalton has Angus on his knees, arm around his neck. Leon points the rifle at Dalton. I point my gun at Leon. Moses’s bowstring is taut, weapon aiming first at Dalton and then at me and then back. It is as Moses pivots, trying to choose a target, that he stops, shoulders tensing, a sharp hiss of breath whistling through his teeth as he spots something. He pivots his bow—
“Don’t,” Anders says.
“Hey, Will,” I say. “Nice timing.”
He stands behind Leon, his gun to the back of the man’s head. His gaze darts my way, a smile chasing it. “It’s all about the timing, Case. And knowing when you’re shit at sneaking up on people, so you wait for a bit of noise to cover your advance.”
A throat-clearing to my left reveals Sebastian pointing a rifle at Moses. I look at the gun, and then I look at Anders, who shrugs. While Dalton had agreed to let Sebastian try militia duty, I’d suggested not being too quick to give him a weapon. Apparently, not knowing the boy’s background, Anders had decided to ignore that advice. We’ll have to talk about this later.
For now, though, I must admit that Sebastian is doing exactly what I’d expect. He’s calm and collected, pointing that rifle at the correct person, finger off the trigger, the barrel steady, no sign of nerves. I’m not sure Sebastian has nerves, though he can fake them when it’s in his best interests. His true self is this—terrifyingly coolheaded.
“I decided to take the kid on patrol,” Anders says. “We heard shots earlier and came running to find these guys holding you at gunpoint.”
“We’re fine. Just shaken.”
&n
bsp; “Well, you’re lucky, because we spotted grizzlies. Three of them. They were off in the distance, though.”
My lips twitch, but I say nothing.
Dalton looks at his deputy. “You almost done? Or do you want to chat about the weather before you get this asshole to point his rifle away from my fucking head?”