The Glass Mountains: The Saboteur Chronicles Book 2 by J.V. Roberts

Author:J.V. Roberts [Roberts, J.V.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-01-16T00:00:00+00:00

17

Newmire was the smallest settlement Dominic had ever seen. It was a single street, lined on either side by one room shacks. The shacks were made up of thatched walls and scrap metal roofs. End-to-end, the settlement took up about one-hundred yards of Wasteland. He sat on his horse at the edge of town, the sun in his eyes. Ronan stood beside him with his mule and cart.

“We shouldn’t be involved in this. This is dirty business.” Ronan rubbed the back of his neck, his face all tangled up.

“Business is business.” The horse was kicking up dust with its hooves, eager to get back on the move.

Ronan looked wounded by his response. “This is a man’s life.”

“A man made a deal, he gave his word. If a man doesn’t have his word, then he has nothing.”

“That’s real easy for you to say.”

“You think I’d be doing this if I didn’t have to? I’m sitting here on this horse, about to go collect a man’s hand because I gave my word to a woman and this is the only way I can keep it. There are certain perils that come with making a promise. No more talking. Let’s go get this thing done.” Dominic sent the horse into a trot.

Ronan sighed and reluctantly followed, the squeaky wheels of the scrap cart piercing the morning air.

As Dominic moved deeper into the settlement, signs of life began to emerge. A disheveled woman presented herself on a nearby porch, clutching a steaming bucket of foggy liquid. She regarded Dominic with a suspicious eye, before emptying the bucket and making a hasty retreat. Dominic halted the horse as a toil-worn man crossed the path in front of him, pulling a tattered net filled with split logs. He struggled to look sideways at Dominic as if the weight of his head were a great burden.

“Old timer, give me a moment?” Dominic pulled the horse up beside the bony laborer.

“I’ll give you half,” the man said, spitting into the dirt.

“Can you point me in the direction of a Mr. Higgins?”

“He owe you something?”

“What makes you think he owes me something?”

The old man let some slack out of the net and rolled his shoulders back. “There ain’t a man or woman in the Wastes that lazy sonofabitch ain’t borrowed from. Only folks I seen calling on Higgins are looking to collect one thing or another. This town is half-dead; folks killed by bandits or run off to join the Rebels. The well has gone to shit. And, still, that sonofabitch won’t show his face or lend a hand. Him and his bastard offspring, they leave it all to an old sonofabitch like me. Look at me. How you expect me to fix a well all by my lonesome?”

“That is a predicament. My sympathies.”

“I guess I can’t hardly blame the man for trying to protect his skin.” The old timer managed another hard-won glance. “So what you want with him? You a friend?”

“No, I am not.”

“Figured as much.” He tightened his grip on the load.

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