The Fang of Bonfire Crossing by Brad McLelland

Author:Brad McLelland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co. (BYR)

“And listen to the shadows,” Keech added with a whisper. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Doyle had quickened his pace to a lively run and that Nat and Duck were struggling to keep up. Keech couldn’t believe the Ranger’s vitality and speed.

Doyle disappeared around a boarded-up building that appeared to have been a chapel in a former life. As the trio approached the old sanctuary, Keech spotted the Big Snake Saloon two blocks away. They stopped in the shadows of the church to catch a breath.

“Main Street looks empty, but it’s hard to tell from here,” Keech said. From the lamplights burning inside the hotel, the snowy northern stretch of the avenue looked a ghostly saffron. There appeared to be no movement on the street, not even from the Ranger. “We’ll have to get closer. Watch out for crows.”

They were almost to the southeastern corner of the hotel when a thunderous call echoed through the night, making them skid to another halt.

“Red Jeffreys!”

The voice rumbled across the entire settlement. It was Big Ben, bellowing to the heavens.

“The jig is up, Enforcer! Come out!”

A fat wooden barrel stood at the corner of the hotel. Keech scuttled for it and peeked over the top, catching a clear view of Main Street and a decent sliver of the Big Snake Saloon’s front porch. Nat and Duck fell in behind him, crouching low.

Keech could almost feel Nat and Duck’s fury when the massive outlaw stepped out of the Big Snake and onto the mouth of Main Street. He was holding his hands high above his head, as if offering praise to the blackened sky. He called out, “We have your old chum!”

Thralls in military uniforms shambled out of the saloon, holding muskets. A few other dead men armed with pitchforks and clubs emerged from side alleys and mingled along the shadowed sidewalks. The ragtag army awaited Big Ben’s command.

Squatting behind Keech, Duck said, “My charm’s getting cold! Doyle must’ve quit his spell.”

“Steady,” Nat whispered.

Big Ben pointed back toward the Big Snake Saloon. “I’ve got him, Jeffreys! Surrender now, or we kill him!”

Keech followed the gesture and saw a pair of slender figures stumble out of the saloon and onto the front porch, one behind the other. The man in front was Milos Horner; the second was Friendly Williams. He was holding a pistol to the bound and beaten Enforcer. Horner’s black hair shrouded his face, and as Friendly shoved him across the porch, the prisoner took awkward steps on his bare feet to keep from losing his balance. Keech heard Horner mumble defiantly, “Kill me or no, you’ll never get what you want from Red.”

“I’m sure Big Ben will show us otherwise,” Friendly returned.

Keech glanced back at Nat, who reached inside the pocket of his coat and pulled out the whistle bomb. The deadly orb captured glints of lamplight from the Big Snake’s porch and gleamed like the body of a black widow. Nat gestured: Wait.

“You have ten seconds to surrender!” Big Ben shouted to the empty street.

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