Horizon (03) by Sophie Littlefield

Author:Sophie Littlefield [Littlefield, Sophie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781459220416
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2012-02-05T23:32:39+00:00

Chapter 26

MAYHEW’S MEN DISMOUNTED their horses; one of them stayed with the animals as the rest moved into the crowd.

“If you were within eight feet of a Beater, go with Bart here,” Mayhew ordered, indicating a tall, broad-built man with ruddy skin and pale hair cut almost to his scalp. “If the person next to you was, see that he goes.”

Those who’d stayed with the crowd separated themselves from those who fought, some sheepish, some defiant. Soon eight people had assembled around Bart: Cass and Dor and five other men and Darla Piehl, who had surprised them all by producing a little .22 from her backpack and hitting a target some thirty feet off.

The examination didn’t take long. They took off their shirts and coats and examined each other’s bare skin, Cass shivering in just her sleeveless undershirt. Fat Mike squinted at an old scratch she’d gotten while pruning, tracing its shape delicately with his finger, then nodded his approval.

“What’s that?” Terrence Godin asked, peering closely at Owen Mason’s shoulder. Everyone looked to see what he was pointing to—a small gash smudged with drying blood.

“Got it when I fell,” Owen said. “I tripped on the first one I put down when I was trying to get close enough to take a shot at the rest.”

Terrence was silent for a moment, bringing his face closer to the wound.

“I don’t know, I guess—”

“Quarantine,” Mayhew said. “It’s the only way.”

“What do you mean, quarantine?” Dana demanded. Cass wondered if he was beginning to bristle from ceding away his position of leadership and was now looking for a fight. “You see any, like, locked rooms we can stick him in around here?”

Mayhew stared at him from behind his dark glasses for a moment before answering. Off his horse, he did not seem quite as imposing, but he was still well over six feet tall and at least two hundred twenty or thirty pounds, his hair held in a loose ponytail secured with a bit of leather cord.

“Way we handle it, the man walks ten paces behind. We post one armed man back there with him. Deal is, if he comes closer than the ten paces he gets a warning. Three warnings and he’s shot. Not shot to kill, but in a situation like this, being on the move, I guess you don’t need me to tell you that’s a death sentence anyway.”

There were a few protests from the crowd, a crescendo of voices as the issue was debated. Owen started to object, then appeared to think better of it. He touched his wound, his fingertips coming away bloody, and he stared at them for a moment before wiping them on his pants.

“Come on,” Dana protested. “There’s no need for that. He’ll be glad to stay back, without a guard, won’t you—”

“Mayhew’s right.”

Dor, who had been standing silently off to the side, spoke quietly. He’d regained his composure since Sammi’s outburst, but his eyes were deeply troubled.

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