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

one’s a mischief-maker, most likely, but we want to find it before it decides to grow a purpose. And so we can pick up the bounty, of course.” Jed’s smile was a death’s head rictus, drawn too far back over his jaw, and his gaze flicked over to Isobel, quickly enough that a soul not watching for it might have missed it. Posse, then, but not a sworn-in one, he’d venture. Not bound by Law.
    “Of course,” Gabriel said. Bounty on a fetch wouldn’t be much unless they had cause to worry about it. More than likely they enjoyed the chase, the excuse to cause trouble and not catch trouble in return. “Good hunting to you. We’d like to avoid even mischief, this trip,” he went on. “Road ahead’s clear?”
    “Clear as the noon sky. Just stick to the road and you should be fine. You heading over to Whiskey Springs?”
    “Yes, we are.”
    “Then we’ll likely see you there when this is done.” Jed tipped his hat to Isobel, with another quick flicker of his eyes, and chivied his men on their way.
    Gabriel waited until they picked up a trot again before he exhaled, then set his attention to unloading the flintlock—a tricky task but better than discharging the shot and risking more attention. He was sweating, he realized, far more than the day’s warmth would excuse.
    “We’re not going to Whiskey Springs,” Isobel said, frowning.
    “I didn’t say we were going there; I said we were heading there. We are. Mostly.” Finished with the weapon, he secured it again, then turned to her and knelt on the ground, picking up a stick and laying it on the grass. “This is the road. We’re here”—he placed his left-hand thumb on one side. “Patch Junction is here”—his hand spanned over the stick, stretching out to mark a spot at the other end. “Whiskey Springs is here”—his right hand reached over and tapped a spot just a little off from the first town’s marker, southwest as the map was laid out. “Same direction.”
    The girl studied the makeshift map, her face still scrunched in a frown that made her seem even younger. “They were a posse?” Why didn’t you trust them? she was really asking, clear as day.
    “No sigils to say they were sworn in proper, so they might’ve been a bounty mob. But the only difference between the two is how official they are. The sort of men sign on for that, they’re not the sort you want to travel with.”
    She considered that, and nodded. “But you didn’t want to lie to them. Not outright.”
    “If you can avoid lying, you should,” Gabriel said. “That’s the third rule.”
    “What are the first two rules?” she asked, reasonably enough.
    “Things to be learned later. Now collect the horses; sore or not, I don’t want to linger, in case those four decide to circle back.”

    Her body still ached, but Izzy pulled herself into the saddle and followed Gabriel back onto the trail and down to the water. Although the creek wasn’t overly deep, the current was swift and the water chilled enough that the scattered drops that landed on her skin made her shiver. She couldn’t imagine how the mare felt, slogging through water halfway up her legs. But Uvnee followed right after Steady, her nose practically in his tail, while the mule was already on the other side and waiting, like a patient dog.
    She wasn’t a child; she knew what Gabriel had been worrying at. The way that man had looked at her wasn’t anything new: men looked, even when they weren’t supposed to. But this had been the first time it’d happened where the boss wasn’t, and she knew—and Gabriel knew—that one against four wasn’t enough to stop ’em if they’d a mind for violence.
    Knowing that the world outside was dangerous and having it shoved up in your face were different things entire. Izzy was almost glad for the soreness in her body and the wet stink of horseflesh and leather, giving her something to think about other than might-haves and what-ifs.
    Halfway across the creek,