Ruby, however, refused to approach the ranger’s tower. She balked and danced, avoiding the place where the tower ladder met the water.
“What’s gotten into you, Ruby-roo?” Houndstooth asked, tugging on the reins of her harness. She ducked her head below the water and blew a rude series of bubbles, turning her back to the Gate once again.
“Ruby, what are you—Ruby!” Houndstooth cried out indignantly as Ruby dipped into the water once more, soaking him to the waist. “Ruby, you damned impertinent cow, stop this behavior immediately!”
Houndstooth yanked on Ruby’s harness, and she reluctantly nudged closer to the ladder. Houndstooth jumped off of her, catching himself on the ladder, then looked back at where the sleek black hippo was fidgeting in the water.
“We’ll have words later, you and I,” he muttered to her. She flapped her ears at him, and he was struck with a sudden sense of unease. “Archie, do you mind staying down here to keep an eye on her? Lord only knows what’s gotten into her this time.”
Archie saluted from her perch atop Rosa’s back. Houndstooth returned the salute, and began to climb.
He reached the top of the ladder and shouted another greeting to the ranger, not wanting to startle the man with the rifle.
“Hello up here? I’m coming up, but I’m unarmed!”
He crested the top of the ladder and found himself inside the little box of a sentry tower. His eyes adjusted to the dimly lit outpost, and he realized that there were two men in the tower with him. The ranger, in his wide hat, was silent. It was the other man who spoke.
“Oh, good,” came the second man’s smooth, soft reply. “I was worried you’d bring weapons with you, and then I’d have to kill you myself.”
With that, Travers shoved the ranger over the edge of the tower. The utter lack of resistance the man showed to being pushed told Houndstooth that he had already been dead when they’d arrived. Travers turned to face Houndstooth, a thin smile on his face and a revolver in his hand.
“Well,” Houndstooth said, raising his hands slowly into the air. “I know when I’m outmatched. Are you going to kill me, Travers?”
“No, no, certainly not,” Travers drawled, advancing a few steps. “The ferals will take care of that for me. They take care of most of my problems for me, you know. Cheaters, thieves, nosy inspectors. Mercenary hoppers who don’t know when to go home with their tails between their legs.” He took another step toward Houndstooth. “I’ll have that detonator in your pocket, if you don’t mind.”
Houndstooth kept his hands in the air. His voice was cold as he watched Travers advance. “I don’t know what you mean, Travers. Hero had the detonator.”
Travers laughed—a sound like molasses dripping into the bottom of a barrel. “Oh, don’t play games with me, Mr. Houndstooth. The house always wins.” He pointed his gun to Houndstooth’s bulging breast pocket. “Right there. Quickly now—before my men have to motivate you.” He gestured down to the water, and Houndstooth leaned as far toward the ledge as he dared. Travers’ goons held Archie at gunpoint. She looked up at Houndstooth, disgruntled.
“Four on one, eh, Travers? None too sporting of you.”
“Oh, Miss Archambault could easily take on two of them—perhaps even three, I wouldn’t put it past her. I play to win, Mr. Houndstooth. Now, let’s not waste any more time. Give me the detonator, and I’ll let you go down to her. You two can try to escape! Or at the very least, you can die together.” He cocked back the hammer on the revolver. “Come now. I don’t have all day.”
Houndstooth held up the detonator, and before he could say a word, Travers had taken it from him.
“Thank you, Houndstooth. You know, I’d been expecting someone sly? Not you, though,” Travers said, flipping the detonator in his hand. “This really does make my life so much easier.”
“Fat lot of good it’ll do you,” Houndstooth laughed despite himself. “That’s one detonator. You do realize who hired us, don’t you? The federal government won’t be deterred by one little weasel of a man with a revolver. They will get these hippos out of the Harriet, Travers. Your tiny kingdom will crumble.”
Travers grinned, a dark joy spreading across his face. “Oh, Mr. Houndstooth. I want the hippos out of the Harriet, too! Just, not quite the same way.” He began to pace. “My little kingdom will become an empire. Just me, my riverboats, and the ferals, from Minnesota to the Harriet.”
Houndstooth watched Travers like a mouse watching a snake. “And how exactly are you going to get your riverboats over the dam, Travers?”
Travers held up the detonator. “Your little crew of hoppers helped with that, Mr. Houndstooth.” Houndstooth frowned, not following Travers’ logic. “Oh, yes! Yes, you see, Adelia told me all about the bombs you planted in the river. How handy! A whole passel of bombs, already rigged for my convenience.” He paused in his pacing, his face shining with excitement. “Last night, while you were crying over your poor departed little lover, I was out on the water, moving the buoys they set up. All sixteen! Oh, it wasn’t easy,” he hastened to add, mistaking Houndstooth’s dawning horror for unbelief. “But I’ve always been a determined man, Mr. Houndstooth. Determination is everything.”
“You’re . . . you’re going to blow the dam,” Houndstooth breathed, his head swimming with implications.
“Oh, yes, Mr. Houndstooth,” Travers replied fervently. “I’m going to blow the dam. I’m going to send a flood of ferals up the Mississippi, along with all their little hops. I’m going to seed the water with teeth and reap my reward.” His voice descended to a harsh growl. “I’m going to own this river.”
He raised the detonator high, and Houndstooth knew that he was going to press the button, destroying the dam. Destroying Hero’s legacy. Destroying his chance at vengeance.
Houndstooth launched himself at Travers, knocking the man off his feet. They landed at the very edge of the ranger’s platform. The revolver spun off, splashing into the water thirty feet below. The detonator clattered to the floor just out of reach. Houndstooth pressed his arm against Travers’ throat.
“Do you remember when I said I was unarmed, Travers?” Houndstooth pulled the ivory-handled knife from his belt; Adelia had sharpened it so finely that the edge was very nearly invisible. “I lied.”
Travers grinned savagely. “Do you remember when I said I wouldn’t kill you, Houndstooth?” Houndstooth felt a pain in his side. “I lied, too.”
Houndstooth’s vision went briefly red. He slashed wildly, and when his vision had cleared, Travers’ face had been slit from brow to lip. Blood flowed into his eye and mouth and ran hideously down the side of his face.