Silver on the Road (The Devil's West Book 1) by Laura Anne Gilman Page A

as to draw the riders’ attention. Four of them—too many for a knife alone to handle. He placed a hand on Steady’s flank, then slid it forward to where the flintlock, a short-muzzled carbine, was strapped to his saddle, sliding it free and loading it with a practiced hand. He missed his longrifle, but its accuracy was set against the fact that it took twice as long to load, and danger came up fast and close more often than it hung back at a distance.
    A single shot wouldn’t do much against four, either way, but it might make them hesitate if they meant mischief. And he could take one of them out before they came any closer, leaving only three to deal with.
    “Gentlemen,” he said in greeting as they drew to a halt. Good horseflesh, deep-chested but not flashy, their riders a somber bunch likewise, dusters and battered gear, and not a star or sigil among them. That could be good or ill.
    “Two horses and a mule, but only one rider,” the lead man said, easing in his saddle. “Armed, yet. You afeared of us?”
    “Cautious of strangers,” he said, keeping the musket’s barrel tilted toward the ground for now.
    “Well I’m Jed, that’s Dickon, Jared, and Rainy.” Each of the men nodded as they were introduced, the last one clearly native, although he was dressed in the same canvas and cloth as the others, his hair cut short like theirs. “And now we’re not strangers, are we?”
    He didn’t like the situation, but they weren’t being hostile. He needed to keep it that way. And it was clear they knew there was a second rider. “I’m Gabe. Iz, c’mon out.”
    He watched as their attention shifted to the girl. There was interest there but no aggression, no lust obvious on their faces. Gabriel kept the carbine in clear sight just in case. “This is Isobel. She’s green on the road.”
    An innocent. Under his protection. The warning was clear, as was his steady hand on his weapon.
    “Ma’am,” Jed said, tipping his hat. “Welcome to the road.”
    “Thank you.” She was using her saloon voice again, softer and wispier. He’d have to break her of that; this was no place or time to be soft.
    “Don’t suppose y’all have seen anything on the road as shouldn’t have been there?” Jed was asking him now, looking away from Isobel. His message was clear: they were on business and had no interest in the girl. Or they were trying to lull him.
    “Can’t say as we have, no. What’s gone missing?” Four men chasing down something, and not a sigil-badge among them, so they weren’t marshals. Could be a posse, although they were supposed to identify themselves too. But they had a look in their eye he knew too well: trouble.
    “Someone rousted a fetch a few nights ago. Got a bit ugly.”
    “A fetch?” Isobel sounded far too excited, considering where she’d lived. Although he supposed a fetch wouldn’t go anywhere near Flood, not unless it wanted to be knocked all the way back to its body.
    “Nasty thing,” Dickon, Gabriel thought, said, a clear Eastern clip to his voice. Not born here, then, and come late in life. Rare, that—and odds were he’d left trouble behind him, too. “But nothing you should fuss your pretty eyes about.”
    “My eyes, pretty as they may be, have seen worse things without a fuss,” Isobel said, and the sudden cool in her voice could’ve put ice on the brook. Maybe he wouldn’t have to teach her so much after all, Gabriel thought, although he could have wished she’d found a different time to become fierce.
    The boys were eyeing her with a little too much interest now, so he shifted ostentatiously, pulling their attention back to him the way he would if trying to redirect a jury. “Anything specific we should be looking for?” Fetches—the incorporeal form of a living body—could be a significant problem or just be a general nuisance, but he liked to know which was what. Mostly, though, he just wanted these men gone and on their way, elsewhere.
    “Nah, this