Chapter 11

  Elias stood outside Tom's forge, watching the survivors tend to their dead and wounded. Bodies lay covered with blankets near the church. He didn't know their names, but he'd remember their faces.

  Always more dead than saved.

  Inside the forge, Doc Bea Tiller worked over the wounded. Her hands trembled but her stitches held. Jane Ellis organized supplies.

  Elias moved through the survivors, checking on the wounded, seeing who could fight and who couldn't. Most were farmers and shopkeepers.

  Tom worked at his anvil, hammer ringing against hot metal. He'd taken a claw across his forearm during the fighting.

  Near the corner of the forge, Jane talked with Doc Tiller. The deputy's shoulders sagged, but she kept gesturing as she explained something. Doc rubbed her eyes but kept working.

  "How many staying?" Elias asked Tom.

  Tom's hammer paused. "Hard to say. Some are still deciding. Others left already. Can't blame them."

  Widow Chen was organizing food supplies. Bobby Fletcher was checking ammunition counts. Even Old Man Dalton had hauled himself down from his porch to help where he could.

  The ones staying have steel in them.

  Elias walked through the survivors. Most looked away when he passed. A few touched their hats. Nobody spoke, but they stepped aside to let him through. Word had spread about how he'd fought during the attack.

  Eyes followed him.

  And there sitting alone was a little girl.

  Ada Bale. Nine years old. Dark hair tangled with soot, brown eyes staring at nothing. She clutched a broken wooden horse to her chest, the toy's leg hanging by splinters.

  Just like Lily used to hold hers.

  The memory came suddenly. Lily at six years old, carrying her carved horse everywhere. "His name is Thunder," she'd told him. "He's the fastest horse in the whole world, Papa."

  Elias turned away from the memory, checking his weapons.

  But when he looked back, the girl was still there. Still alone.

  Doc Tiller had tried talking to Ada earlier when he'd brought her in. So had Jane Ellis. The child just stared at her broken toy, saying nothing to anyone who approached. Someone put food in front of her, she ate. Handed her water, she drank. But she wouldn't speak.

  Elias understood that kind of silence.

  He walked over and sat on a wooden crate about six feet away from her. Didn't look at her directly. Just cleaned his rifle.

  They sat quiet for several minutes. The forge rang. People moved. Tools scraped.

  "You're him, aren't you?" Ada said finally.

  Elias looked up. His hands stopped moving on the rifle.

  "The ghost man from mama's stories," Ada continued, still clutching her wooden horse. "She said you hunt the bad things in the mountains. Said you keep people safe, even when nobody knows you're there."

  Elias set down his rifle slowly. "Your mama told you stories about me?"

  Ada nodded, shifting the wooden horse in her hands. "She said there was someone out there fighting the devils. Someone who lost people too, so he made sure other people didn't lose theirs." She looked down. "But mama's gone anyway."

  "Your mama was wrong," Elias said quietly. "I don't help people. Haven't for a long time."

  Ada looked at him. "You helped me last night."

  Reminds me of Emma and Lilly.

  "Yes," he said finally.

  Ada was quiet for a long moment, studying his face. "You lost people like me."

  "I did."

  Ada's gaze dropped to his coat, where the corner of an old photograph peeked from his inside pocket. "You got a picture sticking out. Little bit of it, anyway."

  Elias looked down. The corner of an old photograph showed against the dark fabric.

  He started to tuck the picture deeper into his coat, but something in Ada's face made him pause. He pulled the photograph out far enough for her to see. Emma and Lily at the creek behind the ranch, laughing at something Caroline had said.

  Ada studied the photograph, then looked back up at him.

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  "Were they happy?"

  Caroline... Emma... Lily... give me strength.

  "Yes. They were."

  Ada nodded. She looked down at her broken wooden horse, then back up at him.

  "Mama said the ghost man was sad but still good. That's why he helped people." She held out the toy. "This was mine. But maybe your girls would like it. In heaven, I mean. Thunder's fast enough to get there."

  Elias stared at the broken horse. One leg hung by splinters. The paint was chipped, the mane worn smooth by small hands.

  Just like Lily's horse.

  "I can't take that. It's yours."

  "But I'm not a little girl anymore," Ada said. "Little girls believe their mamas come back. I know mine won't."

  She set the wooden horse down between them, then stood and walked away without another word.

  Elias stared at the broken toy for a long time. When he finally picked it up, his hands were shaking.

  The wood was warm from where Ada had held it. Smooth in places where fingers had worn away the grain. Someone had carved it with care.

  Like the one I carved for Lily.

  Elias smiled. As he looked at the wooden horse, he could almost hear Lily's voice: "Take care of Thunder, Papa. He gets scared without me."

  Maybe broken things can still be useful.

  "Mr. Granger?"

  Elias looked up to find Silas approaching. The young marshal carried his rifle loose in his hands.

  "We need to talk," Silas said, glancing around at the other survivors. "About what happens next."

  Elias slipped the wooden horse into his pocket next to the old photograph. "What about it?"

  "About expanding the training." Silas gestured toward the survivors around the forge. "What you've been teaching me… they need to learn it too."

  "You think they're ready?" Elias asked.

  "After last night? They're ready to listen. People saw you moving through the streets during the attack. Saw how you fought. They know now that someone understands these things."

  Elias said nothing.

  "Before the attack, half of them thought the devil stories were just frontier tall tales. Now they've seen what we're really dealing with. They need what you've been teaching me. How to read sign, how to fight smart, how to survive."

  "Training one person's different than training dozens," Elias said. "You can focus, follow orders. Townspeople get ideas. Try to be heroes."

  "Maybe. But they're going to fight whether we train them or not." Silas gestured toward the survivors. "These people chose to stay."

  "What makes you think they can handle it?" Elias asked.

  "Because they don't have a choice anymore," Silas said. "And because you've already proven it works. What you taught me kept me alive last night."

  Boy did well during the attack.

  "That was one night. One fight."

  "Then teach them. Give them the same chance you gave me."

  Elias looked around the forge. "You know what you're asking?"

  "I do." Silas looked toward Ada, who was now sleeping against Doc Tiller's chair. "That little girl lost everything because her family didn't know how to fight back. Just like your family. Just like all the others."

  If Caroline had known their patterns... if she'd known how to really fight them...

  "These people have seen the truth now," Silas continued. "They know what they're up against. Question is whether we give them the tools to survive it."

  "It takes more than training. First lesson I gave you. It takes silver. More ammunition. And people who can follow orders when their lives depend on it." He met Silas's eyes. "We'll see who's really willing to fight and who's just talking brave."

  Tom Halberd approached them, wiping soot from his hands. "Couldn't help overhearing about the silver bullets, Mr. Granger."

  "What about them?" Elias asked.

  "I've seen what they do to those creatures. Seen how they drop clean when regular bullets just make them mad." Tom gestured toward his forge. "If you could show me how to make them proper, I could forge enough for the whole town. My tools and forge are at your disposal. I just need to know the process."

  Elias studied Tom's face. The blacksmith had fought during the attack, taken wounds, lost friends. But he was still here, still ready to fight.

  Blacksmith knows his trade. Just needs to see the process.

  "Nothing fancy. Pure silver, hot enough to pour clean. I've been using what I can scrounge." Elias pulled a bullet from his belt. "Show you how I'm doing it, you can probably make it better."

  Might actually work.

  "We'll start soon," Elias said finally. "But first, we've got other business to handle."

  "What business?" Jane asked, joining their small group.

  Seraphine approached. Elias shifted slightly, hand drifting near his gun.

  "The chapel," Elias said when she reached them, his eyes never leaving her face. "We need to search it."

  "You think Father Merrick left evidence behind?" Silas asked.

  "Man was working with the Pack somehow. Had to be getting orders from somewhere." Elias said.

  Seraphine nodded. "The chapel."

  "When do we search it?" Jane asked.

  "Now," Elias said. "Sun's still up. We've got a few hours of good light left." He looked around at the survivors still gathered in the forge. "Town's as secure as it's going to get for the moment."

  "Shouldn't we wait? Get more people?" Silas asked.

  "Too many people make noise. Draw attention." Elias was already checking his weapons. "Four of us move quiet, search it thorough, and get out fast."

  "What about the townspeople?" Jane asked, gesturing toward the survivors.

  "Tom can coordinate things here. Doc Tiller's got the wounded handled." Elias met each of their eyes. "This won't take long. And we need those answers."

  Seraphine moved to gather her weapons. "The chapel holds secrets. Best we uncover them before they uncover us."

  "What are we looking for exactly?" Silas asked as they prepared to leave.

  "Correspondence. Maps. Anything that tells us how deep this goes." Elias slung his rifle across his shoulder. "The preacher didn't just turn overnight. Someone was guiding him."

  "The Packmaster," Seraphine said quietly.

  All of them turned to look at her. Elias's hand moved closer to his gun.

  "That's what they call their leader," she explained. "The one who commands the others."

  "Silas, you take point. Jane, watch our backs." Elias's eyes found Seraphine. "You stay where I can see you. Any surprises in that chapel, and we'll have words."

  "Understood."

  "Stay close, stay quiet, stay ready," Elias continued. "And remember, trust gets earned."

  Time to see what the preacher was really hiding.