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Ryan signaled, catching Jak's eye.
The albino cut his gaze to the approaching Morse boy. Jak slipped one of his
leaf-
bladed throwing knives from inside his clothing. With a quick flick, still
from a seated position, he threw it at the Morse boy.
With a squall of real pain and fear, the boy jerked his head back, raising a
hand to his face. When his fingers came away bloody and he saw it, he screamed
again.
Morse jumped to his feet, turning toward Ryan in rage. "Cawdor, what the fuck
are you doing?"
"Your boy's nose was getting too long for his own good," Ryan said. "Took a
bit of it off for him."
Morse grabbed his boy when he came close enough, peering in consternation at
the wound. Maybe a quarter inch of the boy's nose had been removed at the end
of his face, sliced cleanly, giving it a whole new tilt.
"You had no call to do that!" Morse screamed.
"Could have chilled him then and there," Ryan said. "Still can if I want to.
The boy's eyes were wandering too much for his own good. I could have had
those taken in-stead of a bit of his nose."
Morse glowered at Ryan, then bellowed at his other son to go get water and
rags.
"Use some kerosene on his nose," Ryan said. "You don't want infection to set
in.
His face'll rot off if you're not careful."
Finished with her bath, and maybe self-conscious because she figured out what
the event had initiated, Krysty got out of the trough, dried herself and
dressed.
"Ryan," she called out when she finished.
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"Be there in a little bit," Ryan called back. "Want to take a look around
first." He turned to his son. "Dean, you go on down and get a bath."
Dean didn't look happy about the prospect.
"Go on," Ryan said, "and make sure you get clean."
Reluctantly Dean clambered down the ladder leading up to the loft. He hooked
his feet on the outside edges and slid down.
No longer worried about being spotted by the sec men roving through the
trading post, Ryan stepped out of the hayloft and grabbed the outer edge of
the roof. He pulled himself up onto it with a smooth roll of muscle. Gaining
his feet, he carefully moved across the sharply slanted roof. In winter the
slant would aid in keeping snow off the roof, but now it made the way
treacherous. Still, the roof got him close enough to the boardwalk around the
interior of the palisade fence to jump the distance.
He landed hard, one hand still clutching the Steyr. He kept walking toward the
river side of the trading post, knowing he'd drawn the attention of the roving
sec men. His new boot heels gripped the rough bark of the half-cut trunks
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making up the boardwalk, and the sound of them hitting echoed around him. As
he neared the river, he heard the thunder of it, louder than he remembered
when they'd put in at the small pier at the bottom of the drop-off.
When he reached the palisade wall, he peered down.
The river had swollen a lot more since they'd arrived at the trading post. The
water level was now up high enough to run over the top of the pier, spilling
whitecapped runnels across the surface like a spiderweb. The boat yanked at
her mooring lines and anchor, bucking restlessly, like a live thing in a trap
as it sought to follow the river's course.
Getting away from the trading post by boat was out of the question, Ryan knew.
Even if
Junie survived the effort, there was no guarantee that they would be able to
stay aboard and work the sails.
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He turned away from the river and made his way back to the barn. At the
moment, they were all trapped by their needs.
He wondered what was keeping Doc.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Annie's quarters inside the main house included a huge bathroom with a large
tub.
The walls maintained the same wooden finish as the rest of the house, but here
scented cedars had been used, creating an atmosphere that was im-mediately
different than the rest of the house.
The tub had been crafted of colorful ceramic tiles no bigger than two-inch
squares, some of them broken and chipped to create the contours for the
corners.
The tub was over three feet deep and over nine feet across.
"My extravagance," Annie stated. "Took me over a year to build it. My husband
thought it was totally useless and refused to bathe here. But I made it into
my place."
Doc walked around the room, noticing the carvings made into the wood. They
were meticulously done, displaying forest scenes from rough and rugged
country.
There were snowcapped mountains and dogsleds, small cabins and lonely
campfires. He ran his fingers along the edges, amazed at the detail and
obsession with the same.
"My tribute to the stories by Jack London," Annie stated. "Got a lot of wall
space left to me, but during the winters, when trading's down and there's not
much to oc-cupy my attention here, I work on it."
"Dear lady," Doc said, meaning what he was saying, "this is truly fabulous."
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"My husband considered this a waste of time, as well." She stood in the center
of the room, her arms around herself, almost looking embarrassed. "Outside of
Max and Jubal, less than a handful of people have seen this room."
"Then I shall indeed consider myself fortunate." Doc turned to her. "If you'll
show me where the buckets are, I shall endeavor to draw a bath for us."
"It'll be easier than you think. I constructed a cistern on the roof to hold
water.
Over a hundred gallons, all of it warmed by the sun. I use a hand pump up
there to keep the cistern filled. That way I don't have to waste a lot of time
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heating the water. Winters, of course, I have to lay in a fire to bring it up
to a more reasonable temperature."
She walked to one of the walls and opened up a section, revealing a length of
coiled hose inside. After pulling the hose out and laying the end in the tub,
she opened a faucet. The tub filled rapidly.
Doc watched the water swirl into the tub with fascina-tion. "A remarkable
achievement."
"I put down roots here," Annie said, "and I meant for my life to have some
pleasantries. That's not too much to ask, is it?"
Doc shook his head. "Indeed not. Cleanliness is next to godliness, I have
always heard."
"Don't know about godliness," the woman replied. "Haven't seen much of that
except for a wandering Bible thumper every now and again. Didn't have much use
for them, but some did have nice stories to tell. Wars and kill-ings and such
like that. I've always enjoyed the story of Moses, but I never could figure
out why God cut David so much slack."
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