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finished their chore, you’ll send them back to wherever your camp is. Am I making myself clear, dung brain?”
    “It’s done, Harry. Now do we get down to it?” called Quint.
    “Ride back to camp. I’ll see you there in a couple of hours.”
    “Now wait a goddamn minute! You ain’t keepin’ the whore to yourself. No way!” Quint turned to look to the others for support, but the men shifted nervously. Then two of them mounted their horses, and the others followed.
    “Dammit, Harry. It ain’t fair!” protested Quint, but he backed to his mount and stepped into the saddle nevertheless.
    As they rode from the camp, Beth lifted the heavy pistol from the scabbard at Scarface’s hip. Then she stood and moved away from him. The children climbed out of the wagon.
    “What you going to do now, Ma?” asked Samuel. “You gonna kill him?”
    Beth passed the brigand’s gun to Mary; it was a cap and ball percussion revolver. “Get the pliers and pull off the brass caps, girl,” she said. Mary carried the gun to the wagon and opened the toolbox; one by one she stripped the caps from the weapon, then returned it to her mother. Beth threw it to Scarface, and he caught it deftly and slid it home in its scabbard.
    “Now what?” he asked.
    “Now we wait for a while, and then you go back to your men.”
    “You think I won’t come back?”
    “You’ll think about it,” she admitted. “Then you’ll realize just how they’ll laugh when you tell them I held a gun to your instrument and forced you to mend my wagon. No, you’ll tell them I was one hell of a lay and you let me ride on.”
    “They’ll be fightin’ mad,” he said. Then he grinned. “Sweet Jesus, but you’re a woman worth fightin’ over! Where you headed?”
    “Pilgrim’s Valley,” she told him. There was no point lying; the wagon tracks would be easy to follow.
    “See those peaks yonder? Cut to the right of them. There’s a trail there—it’s high and narrow, but it will save you four days. You can’t miss it. A long time ago someone placed out a stone arrow and cut signs into the trees. Follow it through and you’ll find that Pilgrim’s Valley is around two days beyond.”
    “I may just take your advice, Harry,” she said. “Mary, prepare some herb tea for our guest. But don’t get too close to him; I’d like a clear shot if necessary.”
    Mary stoked up the fire and boiled a kettle of water. She asked Harry if he took sugar, added three measures, and then carried a steaming mug to within six feet of him. “Put it on the ground,” ordered Beth. Mary did so, and Harry moved to it cautiously.
    He sipped the tea slowly. “If I’m ever in Pilgrim’s Valley, would you object if I called on you?” Harry asked.
    “Ask me when you see me in Pilgrim’s Valley,” she told him.
    “Who would I ask for?”
    “Beth McAdam.”
    “Greatly pleased to meet you, ma’am. Harry Cooper is my name. Late of Allion and points north.”
    He went to his horse and mounted. Beth watched as he rode east, then uncocked the flintlock.
    Harry rode the four miles to the camp, his mind aflame with thoughts of the spirited woman. He saw the campfireand cantered in, ready with his tale of satisfied lust. Tying his horse to the picket line, he walked to the fire …
    Something struck him in the back, and he heard the thunder of a shot. He swung, dragging his pistol clear and cocking it. Quint rose from behind a bush and shot him a second time in the chest. Harry leveled his gun, but the hammer clicked down on the empty nipple. Two more shots punched him from his feet, and he fell back into the fire that blazed around his hair.
    “Now,” said Quint.
“Now
we all share.”

6
    N U -K HASISATRA EASED HIS huge frame into the shadows of a doorway, pulling his dark cloak over his head and holding his breath. His fear rose, and he could feel his heart beating in his chest. A cloud obscured the moon, and the burly shipbuilder welcomed the darkness. The Daggers were