Devon Monk - Cold Copper

“Who?”

“Father Kyne. I can sense a bind still between you. It’s thin, faint, but there is still something of him that clings to you. To your curse.”

Cedar hadn’t wanted to admit it, but he could feel him. “Some,” he said. “An occasional drifting pain, or warmth or cold. No thoughts, no images.”

She nodded. “His body won’t hold against those wounds for long.” She took a breath, then shook her head slightly and let it out.

“What?” he asked. “What were you going to say?”

“I could—I think I could bind health to him, strength to him.”

“Would he heal from it?”

“Yes. I believe he might, if it’s done soon enough.”

“Why do you hesitate?”

“The strength would need to come from somewhere. The health I bind to him would have to come from somewhere. His body is too injured and lacking in resources to heal on its own. He would need another living person to offer their strength to him. And the wounds and pain he bears would slowly drain that person, giving the healing time to take.”

“And if the healing didn’t take?” Cedar asked.

“I think I could break the binding.” Then, she said, stronger: “Yes, I could break it.”

“I’ll do it.”

She thought on that a moment. “We already know you can be bound to him. That he can carry your burden.”

“And I’ll carry his. For a short time. Long enough to know if he can survive.”

Mae squeezed his arm a little. “You are a good soul, Cedar Hunt. A very good soul in this world.”

Though Mae’s words made his heart swell, he wasn’t sure he could agree with her. He had done bad things, many bad things. And one kind gesture didn’t erase his past. Still, he was glad she, at least, found comfort in his decision.

He pulled the wagon up to the back door of the church. No use hiding it. If the sheriff and his men were looking for Father Kyne, they’d come out this way. If they were looking for the Madders, they might be on their way now to see if Cedar and Mae and Miss Dupuis were involved.

They might have only an hour or two or even just minutes before they were found.

Everyone, including the new man, Wicks, got busy taking the supplies—guns, dynamite, blankets—into the church. They moved the wounded Father Kyne as gently as they could on a makeshift sling and took him off to his bedroom, where he was to be laid out upon his bed.

As soon as everything and everyone was inside and the kitchen door had been closed behind them, Rose flew into Mae’s arms and gave her a fierce hug.

“I was so worried about you,” Rose said.

Mae hugged her back, gently rubbing her back. “I thought you were going to stay with the sisters,” she said. “And help Captain Hink repair the Tin Swift .”

Mr. Wicks moved around to stand at the opposite side of the table, keeping it between him and Wil, who paced the kitchen hungrily. Cedar knew his brother hadn’t had enough to eat, so he walked off to the kitchen’s larder to see if Kyne had any meats hanging.

A pork hock was wrapped and set on a shelf, and Cedar took it, unwrapped the cloth, and brought it out for Wil.

Wil sniffed it, then took the bone in his jaws and walked—purposely—past Mr. Wicks, eyeing him the whole time, then settled in a corner where he could watch the door and all the people in the room.

“And then I thought I’d be better off on my own,” Rose was saying to Mae. The two women were busy at the stove now, stoking the fire and heating water.

“Can I help?” Cedar asked.

“Not yet,” Mae said. “You should eat, if you have the stomach for it.”

Cedar glanced over at the man standing, not exactly nervously, more like with heightened awareness, behind the table.

“Mr. Wicks, is it?” Cedar asked.

“Thomas,” he said. “Thomas Wicks.”

“Hungry?”

“Starving.”

Cedar gestured toward the larder and Wicks accompanied him there.

“What part of this brings your involvement, Mr. Wicks?” Cedar asked.

“I found myself aboard a train with Miss Small and Captain Hink. I’m afraid I’m just a bit caught up in their wake.”

Cedar found a round of cheese and a loaf of flat bread. He pulled both out, and a handful of dried apples.

“Let’s not lean on falsehoods,” Cedar said. “You have a stake in this, or you’d have run down your own road and let us go our way.”

“You’re a perceptive man, Mr. Hunt,” he said. “Perceptive enough to know a man doesn’t reveal his secrets indiscriminately.”

“Then I’ll set my stake in this straight for you, Mr. Wicks. I am bound to the Madder brothers by a promise given. I will lay my life down for most the people in this church.” He turned so he could glare down at the slight stranger. “And if you cross me, or otherwise cause harm to these people, I will break you in two and feed you to my wolf.”

Mr. Wicks swallowed, his color going a shade paler than just a moment before. “Do I look like a man you need to threaten, Mr. Hunt?”

“You said I was a perceptive man. Has your opinion changed?”

Mr. Wicks smiled, and there was cunning, maybe even delight, in his eyes. He was impressed Cedar had seen through his bumbling greenhorn act.

“No, Mr. Hunt. It hasn’t changed a bit. Where did you school?”

Here it was Cedar’s turn to be impressed. “East.”

Wicks nodded. “Strange how our roads lead us onward, isn’t it?”

“I’ve no complaints.”

“Other than fraternizing with escaped criminals?”

“Is that what you are?”

The corner of his mouth twitched again. “No. Not exactly.”

“Then this isn’t fraternizing. Exactly.” Cedar handed him the dried apples and pushed past him out of the larder.

Cedar drew his pocketknife and shaved off a thick wedge of cheese while he walked back to the kitchen, then placed the cheese and bread on the table. The cheese was a bit sharp but surprisingly rich. To better fill his stomach, he tore off a chunk of the bread and ate that too. Then Mae was pressing a small cup of tea into his hands.

“You won’t need to drink much of this, just a swallow or two. It’s very bitter.”

Cedar sniffed it and pulled his eyebrows up. “What’s it for?”

“The binding.”

“Binding?” Mr. Wicks said. “What do you mean by that?”

Mae glanced over at the man. “I mean that I’m a witch, Mr. Wicks. And I intend to cast a spell to bind health to Father Kyne. Mr. Hunt has offered to be a part of that spell.”

Wicks’s gaze darted to Rose. Rose just shrugged. “She is telling you the truth, Thomas. It won’t change one whit whether you believe her or not.”

“I…” he began, then recovered his wits. “I’ve just never met a, uh, a woman who so willingly claims to follow such…preoccupations.”

“Have you drank it yet?” Mae asked Cedar.

He took a breath, held it, then sucked down two mouthfuls of the vile tea. He didn’t know what she’d put in it, but wouldn’t rule out boiled leather and rusted nails.

“Good. I think this will be best done near Father Kyne.”

Cedar stood. He hadn’t noticed Wil, who padded up silently next to him. If he had, he might have been fast enough to stop him from standing and placing his paws on the table. Might have even been fast enough to stop him from lapping up the remaining tea in the cup.

“No,” Cedar said.

Wil was near Cedar’s height when he was up on his back legs like this. And his eyes were those of a man, not beast. He knew very well what he was offering by drinking that tea. He was offering to help carry the burden of Father Kyne’s life.

“Wil,” Cedar said. “You should not do this.”

Wil dropped down onto all fours, looked up at Cedar, then at Mae, and walked out the door toward Father Kyne’s bedroom.