“You overestimate the morals of my crew,” Hink said. “They do what I pay them to do. And if I tell them to shoot, that’s what’s going to happen. Even if I’m in the way.”
Hink was ready to reach for the gun he had stashed in his coat. But before he could pull it, he heard his name shouted out.
“Lee!”
That was Rose’s voice. Rose’s voice calling over the roar of the Swift. But not from above.
Rose stood on the snow-covered road that wended away from the church, back the other way. She was staring at the demolished remains of the building. Her hat had gone missing and her hair was tousled free of its pins in a glorious tangle of brown and red.
One of her arms was slung tight and tied to her chest, and there was a bruise across her forehead. She looked away from the church and caught sight of Hink standing down the road a ways. Her free hand flew up over her mouth, as if it could hold back the half sob, half laugh that escaped her lips.
Then her hand slipped down, revealing her smile. And she ran. Straight toward him, as fast as she could, ignoring the men, the guns, the ship, ignoring everything. Running as if there were no time left for walking in this world.
Hink started toward her too, as fast as his injuries would let him.
The clack of guns racking rounds filled the air, but he didn’t care and he didn’t stop. Rose was running for him and he was running for her. Bullets wouldn’t keep him from that woman.
“Hold your shot!” the sheriff yelled. “Do not shoot! You’ll hit the children.”
Children?
Hink looked away from Rose. Sure enough, she was surrounded by dozens of children, none of them taller than her waist, most of them in nightclothes, and all of them running, just as she was running, right toward him.
And all the people on the street, men and women, rich and poor, crowded up to see just what was happening.
They cried out in surprise, in confusion and joy, calling their children’s names.
“Henry! Victoria! Donald!” Dozens of voices calling dozens of names.
Strolling along behind the bundle of blank-eyed children were the three Madder brothers, looking as if they were going on a walk round the park, not that they were returning to a town full of people who wanted to see them swing by the neck.
Hink wrapped his arms around Rose and she clung tightly to him with one arm, looking up at him.
“You shouldn’t have come back, Rose,” he said, near out of breath, his head pounding darkness into the corners of his vision again.
“I’m right where I intend to be, Lee Cage.”
“Well, isn’t this a pleasant sight?” Sheriff Burchell said.
“So good to see all the criminals come into the town, all the lawbreakers and justice dodgers, right here in one handy place. Looks like justice will be done this day. Men,” he said. “Fire.”
Chapter Forty-one
“Hold your fire!” Alun Madder called out loud enough Rose thought his voice could be heard in the next county. “We have found the children gone lost in this town. There will be no shooting.”
The gunmen hesitated.
“My baby!” a woman cried out. “You found my baby.” The woman was short and thin, with dark hair caught back under a blue silk-flounced bonnet. She broke out of the crowd and ran toward the children surrounding Rose.
The woman plucked up a little boy and pulled him into her arms, standing there rocking and murmuring comforting words.
Then a flood of people came forward, pulling their children toward them, crying, hugging, holding. More than one man clapped Hink on the shoulder in thanks as they walked by; more than one man shook hands with the Madders.
Rose found herself overwhelmed by the surge of happy people, and did her best to see that the children fell into the hands of family and loved ones. The sheriff was surrounded by townspeople and was receiving congratulations too, and several of his men had youngsters in their arms.
The gunmen were fathers, brothers, and uncles. They put their guns away.
The Madders stood near Rose, staring at the sheriff across all the happy people.
The sheriff glared at them. But he couldn’t just shoot the men who had solved his city’s greatest mystery, couldn’t kill the men who had brought happiness back to families who had been wrapped in grief.
The Madders looked like three pleased foxes who had dined on prized hens.
The sheriff holstered his gun.
Rose was relieved that the children had been found and returned. But there was still more that wasn’t settled. The children weren’t talking. None of them seemed to even recognize their families.
Something was missing. And she wasn’t the only one who noticed. It began as a small murmur. One or two people asked their child what was wrong. And then it grew. They knew. They knew their children might be there in body, but that some part of them was still lost.
“What the hell now?” Hink muttered.
“It’s the kids,” Rose said. “Some Strange has a piece of them. We haven’t found it yet. Haven’t found the Strange. Well, haven’t had a chance to look for it. I thought…I thought you were dying, so I just ran.”
“Sheriff,” Cedar said. “May I speak with you?”
Rose looked over and was shocked to see both Cedar and Wil Hunt striding down the road. Wil had on borrowed pants and boots, one hand rested in his coat pocket as if he carried something there. His grin was wicked and his eyes glittered.
Seeing the two of them together, as men, was such a rare thing, she had to admit to being a little caught by the sight of them.
They were of a height and build, though Wil was leaner and narrower than his older brother. And whereas Cedar Hunt looked like he could bear the weight of the world’s troubles across his wide shoulders, Wil looked more the type who might enjoy stirring up that trouble.
The brothers passed Miss Dupuis and Wicks, and Cedar told them both to get aboard the ship that hovered to one side of the ruined church. Neither of them argued, though Wicks opened his mouth, but closed it quickly when Miss Dupuis tugged him by the arm to the Swift’s ladder.
The sheriff met Cedar in the center of the road. Close enough Rose could hear them over the townsfolk and airship fans.
“We came to this town with no animosity toward the town or these people. And though my companions have been jailed, and escaped, it was to do this great good. To find the children of this town. And if you want the children to laugh and grow and thrive, to have their reasoning minds, you will let us go.”
“What game are you playing, Mr. Hunt? Are you holding our children’s minds hostage for your release?”
“It seems I am.”
Rose glanced around. She couldn’t believe Cedar was standing there blackmailing the sheriff. She slipped her hand in her pocket and wrapped her fingers around her gun.
“Is there some kind of guarantee you’re going to give me?” the sheriff asked. “I’m not about to let you fly off on the strength of a promise.”
“Keep us here and those children will never recover.”
The sheriff frowned, glanced over at the children, many of whom just stared straight ahead.
“We’ll stay behind as collateral,” Alun Madder said. “My brothers and I.”
“No,” Cedar said.
“Now, now, Mr. Hunt,” Alun said. “You should know better than to turn down the best offer you’re going to get. According to the law, there’s still some reason Sheriff Burchell here might want to keep us. We’ll stay while you see to the children’s needs. And when it’s clear those children are once again their normal selves—something I encourage you to do quickly—then Sheriff Burchell will uphold his side of the bargain and let us all go.”
The sheriff nodded slowly. “You belong behind bars.”