Part 38 (1/2)

That wasn't what had worked out. Almost as much time had pa.s.sed since the last time he'd picked up a hammer as he'd been alive when he'd put it down for the last time.

The way he felt climbing up the ladder wasn't what he'd expected, though. He ought to have felt at least a little uncomfortable. Out of place, maybe. But that was the last thing that he felt.

Chris took a deep breath. There was more to it than Marie had realized. It should have been obvious, but he was out of practice looking at framing, so the common problems had slipped out of his head. But the fact that there was a hole in the roof, maybe two feet across, more than wide enough for him to slip through if he put his mind to, it should have been obvious.

It was going to take a little work. He had time, though. A few days off would let folks cool their heads, and maybe they'd get some ideas about him being a good worker, if they saw him working with his hands.

There was one thing uncomfortable, though, about the job. He'd worn that pistol for so long, it felt like it was almost a part of him. He looked around as he climbed, worrying that someone would see him without it and get a funny idea in their head.

It was completely nuts, of course. There wasn't anyone in Applewood Junction who tended that way. Even once they got a few drinks in them, he couldn't think of anyone who would like to tangle with him, whether he had that pistol sitting on his hip or not.

But the thought still bothered him. Itched at the back of his mind, like. He kept his hands moving up the ladder and pulled himself free and up onto the roof. Once, the height had made him a little nervous, but he'd been broken of it before he could read.

Now it was almost peaceful. He ducked his head down under the roofing and confirmed once again what he already knew. The frame would need to be repaired. That meant that the roofing would need to come up, and if that was all then he'd be lucky. But he'd already stuck his foot in it.

d.a.m.n his weakness for pretty women. If he'd had a lick of sense in his head, he'd have asked her for at least something. But the time for that had pa.s.sed, now, and he had to deal with it.

Chris slipped his gloves on, leather that hadn't had a reason to break in yet. He'd give it a good reason now. The roofing came up with a hard tug, a little ways, and he tossed it aside. Maybe he'd be able to reuse it, or maybe they'd have to buy more.

Thirty minutes later found him breathing hard, his legs dangling over the peak of the roof through the hole he'd torn in the top. He laid back and let his aching muscles relax just for a minute. Soon, he'd be pulling nails from timbers and trying to pull a rotting rafter onto the roof, instead of letting it fall through.

A sweet voice called up from inside the building, the place he'd told her absolutely not to stay. Well, that wasn't all that surprising, he supposed.

”Everything alright up there?”

Chris s.h.i.+fted himself around the other way until he was looking down through.

”Just taking a break before the next part.”

She was hiding a worried expression, which he found almost cute.

”You just, be careful up there, alright? Don't break anything. I don't want to have things get worse.”

He chuckled and stood himself up. The roof was steepled and there was always some risk of slipping, but his boots dug in comfortably and he wasn't worried.

”Don't you worry, Miss Bainbridge. I wasn't fixin' to make things worse.”

He wedged one arm under the rafter and pulled hard, twisting. The board was rotted most of the way through and though it had been nailed in fairly well, the nails pulled free easily, staying lodged into the ridge-board. The rafter was heavy, but with a grunt he managed to pull it aside until it sat safely off to the side.

Another deep breath. That should probably have been a two-man job. Dangerous didn't begin to cover it, he realized as soon as it was done. But it was done. He just had to go down to the bottom and pull that side of the rafter off as well, now. Then it would be a matter of pulling the nails out, and then he could cut something to length and put it back in place.

Then...

He took a deep breath. It wasn't important to know the whole thing, not to the exact detail. He'd done it all before, and it would come to him. The most important part was just doing the next step in line.

He lowered himself down the side of the roof, wedged himself in between the good rafters and yanked hard until the little piece of the busted rafter came free. It was tossed back behind him, where it landed with a thud.

Marie called up again.

”Is everything alright? You sure you're alright?”

”Sure, everything's fine.”

”And it's all going according to plan?”

”Sure. Gonna have to cut a rafter to length and nail her back in, and then it's just reattaching the roofing. Easy.”

His voice, strained as it was as Chris tried to figure how to ease himself back to safety, didn't exactly communicate 'easy,' he knew. But there was easy, and there was easy.

He wedged his hands in behind him and pushed up. With his body free, he tilted until one leg turned over to the building's frame and put his weight down. Easy.

A sound that caught his ear made him start. Someone yelling, coming in from the plains. He climbed up the roof and looked out. Definitely someone yelling, and now that he could see, he was riding hard, too.

His hand dropped naturally to his hip, where it found a heavy carpenter's hammer. Useless. If someone were chasing this fellow- Chris scanned the horizon. Nothing. n.o.body was following him. He closed the gap to the ladder in two long, easy steps and was down a minute later. Marie was out the door by the time he set his feet on the floor.

”What's wrong?”

He looked over at her, considering not telling her for a moment. As if he didn't have the time, but it wouldn't cost anything.

”Rider coming in. Riding hard and hollering up a storm.”

He started moving before waiting to see what Marie's thoughts on it were. He didn't know what he'd be able to do about it, but he'd at least get there to see what the problem was. Then, if he could do something about it, he'd find out what it was.

Eleven.

The first thing that Marie saw was the man, same as Chris had told her was coming into town. The second thing, the thing that worried her a h.e.l.l of a lot more, was what he had slung over the horse's flank.

Two people. From their clothes, a man and a woman, and from the way they were laid there, without moving except when the horse's rump kicked a little hard. It didn't take a great deal of imagination to figure out whether or not they were going to be alright.

Chris's voice caught her by surprise.

”What the h.e.l.l happened?” He sounded angry. Why would he be angry? Hurt, sure. Worried, upset. She was afraid, but she couldn't imagine him being afraid for an instant.

As the rider pulled up to a stop, Marie got a better look at the bodies laid out across the horse's rump. Spots of red stained their torsos. The rider wasn't heading from Indian territory way, and no arrows meant it couldn't have been that.

The teacher hoped somehow that it was an animal. Somehow it would be better to imagine that they'd been attacked by a wild dog than to imagine that there were people who'd chosen to do it.

”I don't know,” the man answers, his voice wavering a little. ”I found 'em like this. No horses, and nothing of value in their bags.”

Chris filled in the blank. ”Robbery, then, you think.”

”I don't want to jump to no conclusions,” the man said, but in spite of his stubborn response, it wasn't hard to hear the warble in his voice that agreed with the conclusion.

”G'on to the Sheriff's office, sorry to have taken your time.”