Reaper's Vow by Sarah McCarty Read Free Book Online Page A

alive that can make Isaiah speak before he wants to.”
    â€œUntil now.”
    â€œUh-huh.” Gaelen folded his arms across his chest. “You think mighty big of yourself.”
    â€œMaybe,” Cole threw back, watching Isaiah interact with the man who’d called him over. There was a deference in the other man’s attitude. Attentiveness in Jones’s. Whatever he was, Jones wasn’t a bully. More puzzle pieces that didn’t fit the image Cole had nursed over the last few months. “Or I might just be tired of chasing your asses all over creation looking for answers.”
    Gaelen shrugged. “Well, Isaiah might not be answering your questions because he doesn’t like you, or he might not be answering because it’s a long story and right now too many other people need a piece of him. Hard to tell.”
    Nothing worse than getting a sensible answer when a man wanted a reason to throw a punch.
    Cole hoisted his saddlebags up onto his shoulder. “You still too busy to show me where I’ll be bunking?”
    If he had to wait, he might as well do it in comfort.
    â€œI should be, but I suppose if I don’t, you’ll go poking around under the pretense of searching for a bed.”
    It was Cole’s turn to smile. “I do have that tendency.”
    â€œThat’s what I thought.” With a jerk of his head Gaelen ordered, “This way.”
    * * *
    His bunk was a one-room cabin with loose-planked sides that let in sporadic beams of sunlight. There wasn’t anything strictly feminine about the place, but it had a feminine feel that went beyond the makeshift curtains dressing up the narrow window.
    The space consisted of a small table, two chairs, a bed in the corner that was too short for his large frame, a roughly hewn trunk at the foot of the bed, and shelves against the wall on which dishes and pots were stacked. And a smaller bed catty-corner on another wall. Not much went on inside this small space except sleeping, but it was spotless. He wondered if they’d cleaned for him. He didn’t know how he felt about that.
    He tested the mattress with his hand. It was thin but firm. From the feel of things a layer of material covered the husks beneath. The sheets and blanket looked clean. He set his saddlebags down. He’d certainly stayed in much worse places.
    Taking his makings for a smoke out of his pocket, he went outside. Sitting on the stump to the left of the door, he dragged a sulfur across the axe propped against the side of the house. The soft hiss of the flame whispered across his nerves in an unnecessary warning. He was in the enemy camp, living on the mercy of a man who bore him a grudge, buying time for . . . ? Cole pushed his hat off his brow and took a drag on his smoke. Hell, he wasn’t even sure anymore. He’d come for Addy, but the Addy he’d come to rescue bore little resemblance to the confident, apparently happy woman who’d greeted him.
    Too weary to dwell on that, Cole leaned back, pulled his hat down over his eyes, and observed the comings and goings from under the brim. It always paid to know your enemy. And nothing said more about a group’s philosophy than how they went about setting things up. Like with all growing settlements the initial impression was chaos, but as he sat and smoked and watched, he could see there was order behind it. The camp was divided up into four sections. From what he could tell there was a married section, a single male section—he didn’t see any identifiably single women beyond Miranda—a cooking section, and a bathing/personal business section. Everybody seemed to have a job and know what needed to be done. He could say a lot of things about Reapers, but that they were lazy wasn’t one of them. They didn’t have much to spare for him, except the occasional curious glance.
    He saw Miranda appear out of one of the houses, a child by her