Angus sidles up to his brother. The nose of his gun hovers just an arm’s length from Isaac. “Ah swear it, too.”
Isaac looks each man in the face. “Well, I hope you told the truth.” Solemnly, he holds his wrists out to Ian. The Scotsman begins binding them. “That’s a good blackie,” Angus purrs.
“God bless us,” says Isaac, suddenly lifting his head to the sky. “A falcon.”
I don’t see whether there really is a falcon, because at that moment, Isaac grabs both men by their arms and yanks.
Backward Isaac falls, pulling the brothers off the cliff with him.
“Isaac!” Andy screams, echoing one of the men’s screams.
My horrified eyes take in the platform, now empty save for the leaning pine trees and the dust that still clings to the air. He jumped. He took his own life, to take the lives of those two hellions. Oh, my Lord, have mercy on his wretched soul. Have mercy on us all.
Andy’s eyes are stretched wide. In her hands is the Cheyenne bow. She grips it so hard it might break in two.
She sobs. The sound squeezes a fist around my heart. I rush to her and put my arms around her quaking shoulders. It is a trick of the cruelest type that she came all this way, from a garish hotel to a mythical waterfall, only to have the reason for her journey vanish into thin air. Where is the justice in that?
Covering her head with her arms, she gulps in ragged breaths. My own eyes grow moist, and I shut them to trap the tears inside.
Why, Father, do the angels fly away when we need them most? Left to ourselves, how do we wrestle with fate, a demon casting stones left and right, snuffing out fires before they grow too bright? If I knew the answer to these questions, I might be of use to Andy right now. But all I can do is hold her while she cries.
I open my eyes again, focusing on the place where Isaac just stood, still not quite believing what happened.
Something moves. I squint to block out the late-afternoon glare. Maybe the sun is playing tricks on my eyes.
There it is again. I gape as a hand comes up and then another, from below the cliff’s edge.
“Andy,” the word falls out of my open mouth.
She’s still sobbing and doesn’t hear me. I scramble to my feet, just as whoever’s returned from the dead throws his leg over. In a moment, Angus is lying on top of the cliff, heaving.
“Andy,” I cry, shaking her. She’s rocking back and forth, fingers still gripped around the bow. The bow.
Angus rolls over and finally spots us, a crazed look in his eye. As I pry the bow out of Andy’s fingers, the Scotsman gets to his feet, letting out a primal scream so full of anguish all the hairs on my arms stand straight up.
Where’s the arrow? I quickly rush back to the pile and collect it.
Angus charges toward us, zigzagging down the rocky staircase.
My fingers move as thickly as if I were learning a new Paganini on someone else’s violin. This Cheyenne bow is different from my bow, lighter. I notch the arrow, but where’s the arrow rest? On the other side?
Isaac’s words ring in my head. Jeremiah made friends with a couple of Cheyenne and they gave him a bow and arrow. Made it special for him.
Jeremiah was left-handed. In desperation, I calculate what’s more likely to hit, an arrow notched correctly on the left, or an arrow notched incorrectly on my right? Thanks to Lady Tin-Yin, my left arm can do a thing or two, but an arrow? I switch to my left, but now I have to use my left eye.
Dear God, my fingers shake so bad, I can hardly hold the bow. It’s too late to switch back—he’s nearly upon us. Quickly, I notch, sight, and let it fly.
It misses.
But it nicks Angus’s ear, stopping him for a precious moment.
He wipes his ear, smearing blood down his neck. I fling away supplies in my hunt for a second shaft.
Andy finally understands our predicament and rouses herself. Slipping off her frock coat, she runs at Angus, flinging the coat over his head and kicking him so hard she falls onto the shore clutching at her own leg.
Angus stumbles but remains upright. He frees himself of the coat, then jumps on her. His hands find her throat and squeeze.
I drop the bow and grab the closest object—a wooden spoon. Running to them with my weapon high, I’m reminded of the scrubbing brush I wielded a lifetime ago. As I swing the spoon at his wounded ear, Angus blocks it with his arm. Quick as a cat lick, he snatches my arm and yanks me down beside Andy.
I fight to hold on to my weapon, but he’s bending my wrist so hard, he will break it. My bow hand. I let go of the spoon.
He crawls on top of me, pinning me down so heavily I cannot budge my legs. His sweat drips onto my face. I glance at Andy, who has stopped moving. Did he crush her windpipe?
My blood boils, my rage like a demon about to spring out of my chest. I lunge, tearing my nails down his cheek.
“Bloody hell!” His grasp on me weakens and quickly I wrench myself out from under him, calling upon strength I never knew I possessed.
I scrabble back toward the supply pile. If I could just—
The monster grabs me by the ankle and pulls hard. All the breath blows out of me as I land heavily on my front. I try to scream but blood fills my mouth.
Frantically, I claw at the ground but it’s no use. He’s too strong. He releases his grip on my ankle only to yank me up by the arm. I struggle with all my might. But now he’s shaking me so hard, my teeth clatter.
“Yer fault! Ye kilt my bruv! Yer goin te’ pay!”
After I think he’s broken every bone in me, he stops shaking and hooks his eyes into mine. His empty orbs of blue ice are the eyes of a madman. I do not think he even has a soul.
“I knew it when we saw the bulletin. Where’s your nellie boys now? They get tired of ye?” His sulfurous breath blows hot against my face. I’m so dizzy, I can barely stand.
“Almost gave up,” he hisses. “But then we heard ye showing aff with yer fiddle.”
Oh, my God, they were at Independence Rock.
“Five hundred somethin’ fer you and your blackie sets me up good. Biggest quarry I ever—”
My heels slip from under me, cutting Angus’s sentence short. I fall back, pulling him with me. I expect to feel hard stone as I land, but instead, bitterly cold water engulfs me, cutting off my breath. The ground has disappeared and my feet cannot get purchase.
Angus flails somewhere next to me. In a panic, I kick off my boots and swim away from him. Water clouds my vision and floods my ears. Soon, he catches my ankle once again.
But now something else has caught me, and I fear its rough hands more than Angus’s. Hissing, snakelike, the river pushes me toward the falls.