Her Reaper's Arms (14 page)

67

Charlotte Boyett-Compo

“Oh my,” she heard one of the women say, and every female eye there gravitated to

the muscular build of Bevyn Coure.

“Now that is one fine specimen,” another woman whispered.

Despite the vicious scars that covered his upper torso, the Reaper had the body

build every man there envied and every woman wanted to run her hands over. His

abdominal muscles were sharply etched, the pectorals and biceps bulging, his shoulders

broad and waist lean. There wasn’t a spare ounce of fat on him.

No one else noticed the change in the air as he swept a hand over the lower part of

his body, so none of them noticed the disappearance of his tight uniform leather pants

and the sudden appearance of black denim that was a looser fit. Lea however, had not

missed that handy little trick, and when he glanced at her and winked, she knew he had

meant for her to be a witness to his unique power. Looking down at the dress he had

created for her, she sighed. Life with her Reaper was going to be anything but boring.

Long into the afternoon, she sat with the other women who had brought their

sewing and mending, their peas to be shelled, their corn to be shucked, and gossiped as

the men raised the skeleton of the Reaper’s house. She kept an eye on Bevyn as he toiled

alongside the other men—accepted, teased and insulted the same as every other man

there. She could see the happiness flitting across his sweaty face as he pounded a

hammer or jerked a saw blade back and forth over the timbers. His upper torso

glistened with sweat as he worked, straining to lift weights the other men could not.

“You are one lucky woman, Lea Walsh,” May Bundy, Nate’s wife, said. “There ain’t

a woman alive what wouldn’t want that tall drink of water between her sheets.”

The other women nodded, not a one of them looking with anything other than lust

at the Reaper, and that didn’t surprised Lea. Where before the people of Orson were

terrified of their assigned Reaper’s erratic appearances, they had now gladly accepted

them and taken him in as one of their own.

“You gonna marry him, Lea?” Angie Carmichael inquired. “Father Tony will be

coming through week after next.”

Lea shook her head. “We’re going to the Citadel next week,” she said as she

snapped beans, “so we won’t be here for the priest’s arrival.”

“Lucky you,” someone said. “Gonna take the train?”

“Aye,” Lea said, squirming in her stiff ladder-back chair.

“Now that will be a trip and a half,” May said. “I’ve heard tell that’s some place to

see.” She lowered her voice. “Not that anyone around here’s ever been invited to the

High Lords’ keep.”

“You make note of everything so’s you can tell us about it, Lea,” Angie said

wistfully.

Though she had never been equated with the other women of the White Horse—

none of whom had been invited to help with the workers’ noontime meal—Lea had not

been extended the same courtesies as the other women of Orson. Whereas before she’d

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Her Reaper’s Arms

been merely tolerated, yet ignored, for the most part she—like her Reaper—had finally

become a part of the community. Whereas before people would nod stiffly at her but

not go out of their way to speak to her, she was being included in the other women’s

activities. All of a sudden she had garnered respectability.

“Guess he wants to take you to meet the Shadowlords,” May said. “Gotta get their

approval for the Joining, I guess.”

Lea felt a twinge of worry. What was going to happen when they came back from

the Citadel and still did not marry? Would the women think less of her? Pity her? Look

down on her for living in sin with the Reaper?

“Do Reapers get married?” Angie asked, and all eyes turned to Lea.

She looked up at the other women. “I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “We

haven’t discussed it.”

“Better get a ring on that man, dearie,” May suggested. “Can’t hold ’em if you don’t

have that band of gold ’round their finger to remind ’em who they belong to.”

“That don’t always hold a man,” Virgie Watson proclaimed. “Many a man’s strayed

what got a ring ’round his finger.”

“Aye but not a one what’s got a ring through his nose!” someone else stated, and all

the women laughed including Lea.

“Well, I don’t think Lea’s got nothing to worry about,” Cornelia put in. “Reapers

ain’t gonna stray from their mates. We all know that.”

“Still, you’d do well to have the words spoken over you, girl,” May declared, and

all the other women save for Cornelia and Lea nodded in agreement.

Bevyn had been listening on and off to the women’s conversation, curious to know

how they were treating his lady. Though their voices were soft and low, he had no

trouble listening in with his keen hearing, even if none of the other men could. The

issue with the Joining would have to be dealt with if only to make gods-be-damned

sure Lea was treated with the respect she deserved as his mate.

As he hammered, he realized he was not opposed to the Joining. Although he

didn’t need words spoken over them by a man of the cloth or a piece of a paper

stamped with the territorial seal to tell him Lea was his, such things meant a lot to the

civilian population. He would need to have a serious discussion with Lea about

marriage.

“Rider coming,” he heard a man say, and turned to look where some of the others

were staring.

A cloud of dust was streaking up behind a horse that was coming at top speed, its

rider whipping the reins back and forth to hasten the speed of the beast.

“Looks like Jed Halsey,” Buford said. He glanced at Bevyn. “Lives over to Lawler,

that little hole in the road on the way to Beverton.”

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Bevyn nodded and hooked the claw of his hammer over a two-by-four and hopped

down from the scaffolding where he’d been standing. Reaching into his back pocket, he

pulled out a dark blue bandana and wiped it over his face.

“Looks like trouble to me,” Ned Bundy put in.

The men all stopped what they were doing, waiting for the rider to reach them.

Halsey saw them and directed his mount to where they were all assembled. He jumped

off the steed, his chest heaving as he headed for the sheriff, only to come up short when

he noticed the Reaper in their midst. He went to one knee, his head bowed.

“Don’t do that,” Bevyn snapped. He’d always been uncomfortable with such overt

acts of fealty. “Get up and tell us what’s happened.”

“Milord,” Halsey said, gasping for breath as he scrambled to his feet. “I did not

know you were here.” He swallowed hard. “Rogues, milord. We got three of them.”

“How long have they been there?” the Reaper asked, reaching for his shirt.

“Two days, milord,” Halsey reported. “They have a couple of women with them.”

Bevyn stilled. “Women?” he repeated. “Human women?”

“I think not, milord,” Halsey said with a shake of his head. “I believe them to be

rogues themselves.”

“That can’t be good,” Buford said.

“It isn’t,” Bevyn agreed, waving his hand. “Have they killed any of your people?”

“None so far. They’ve just taken over the entire town,” Halsey said. “I barely

managed to escape. The women culled out the men and had them put in a barn

together.”

“These women,” Bevyn said as he buttoned his shirt and began tucking it into pants

that were suddenly leather instead of denim. “Are they carrying weapons of their own?

Lance-like weapons?”

“Aye, milord,” Halsey replied. “Spears that shoot fire from the tip.”

“Amazeens,” Bevyn mumbled as he swung his gun belt around his waist and

buckled it. “I figured as much.”

“Want us to come with you, milord?” Buford asked.

The Reaper shook his head. “I’ll do better on my own,” Bevyn said. “Station guards

about. Make sure no one leaves town until I get back. Send word to get those living

close to town to come in. Tell Mable I’ll pay for them to have rooms at her place.”

“The townsfolk may take some in,” Cornelia spoke up.

Lea had been following the conversation with growing dread. She knew better than

to voice her reluctance to allow her man to leave for this was his job. This was what he

had been trained to do. It was a part of him. It was his reason for being, but it didn’t

make things any easier for her.

“You will be careful, milord?” she asked in a quiet voice.

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Bevyn looked to her and saw the dread on her lovely face. Before everyone there, he

strode to her, hooked an arm around her waist and drew her to him.

“Aye, milady,” he said. “I will be alert.”

With the townspeople watching, he kissed her long and hard then turned away,

striding purposefully to the stable for his horse.

“Oh lord,” Lea whispered, a trembling hand to her lips.

“It is for men to fight and women to wait, girl,” Cornelia said softly. “That’s been

the way of it since time began.”

“But it doesn’t make it any easier,” Lea said, swiping at a tear that ran down her

cheek.

“No,” Cornelia replied. “I know it don’t.”

The livery owner hurried beside Bevyn without being asked. Bevyn sent him over

to Cornelia’s to retrieve his saddlebags since he didn’t know how long he’d be gone and

might need the tenerse inside those bags. By the time Préachán was saddled, the

stableman was back, handing the saddlebags to the Reaper.

“Tell the sheriff to keep an eye on milady,” Bevyn said as he swung atop his mount.

“We’ll all see to her, milord,” the livery owner vowed. “Don’t worry on that

account.”

Nodding his acknowledgement of the promise, Bevyn kicked his horse into motion

and thundered out of town, taking the road to Lawler.

“Lord Kheelan? Talk to me,”
Bevyn sent to the Citadel.
“Tell me what’s in Lawler.”

He was two miles out of Orson before the High Lord’s voice intruded on his

thoughts.

“You have our apologies, Lord Bevyn. This situation somehow escaped our notice. There are

three rogues and two Amazeen,”
Lord Kheelan informed him.
“We’ve no idea how the women

warriors got here. This is a first and it should be interesting to find out what the hell they’re

doing here.”

“Who is their leader?”

“A man named Thiess,”
the Shadowlord replied.
“He looks to be a bad one.”

“Where are they holding up in Lawler?”

There was a slight pause.

“They have made the saloon their base of operations. The younger menfolk are in a barn at

the outskirts of town being guarded by the Amazeen. The older men and male children have been

crowded into the jail. The women and young girls were herded into the church and the doors and

windows were boarded shut. Doesn’t look like the rogues are interested in them.”

“If they’ve mated with the Amazeen, they wouldn’t be interested,”
Bevyn stated.
“Can you

tell whom they’ve taken Sustenance from?”

“We believe only the younger men.”

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

Lawler was a thirty-minute ride from Orson and Préachán’s mighty hooves were

eating up the miles. Bevyn was concentrating on bending low over the steed’s neck to

alleviate some of the wind drag as the horse raced over the prairie.

“They are gone, Bevyn,”
the High Lord suddenly said in a low voice.
“The young men

have disappeared from the barn.”

“Shit,”
Bevyn exclaimed.
“Is there a ship lurking up there somewhere?”

“There must be but we’ve not the technology to sense it,”
came the disgusted reply
. “We

need to get the Net operational over the Citadel and spread it over the rest of the country.

Another week and we’ll have complete protection of the High Council at least.”

“Well, I can’t do anything about the men now but I can stop the rogues from doing it

again,”
Bevyn snapped.
“They’ll move on to the next town if I don’t.”

“Lord Naois is checking to see if they’ve hit any other towns before this,”
Lord Kheelan

said.
“Let’s pray this is the first.”

“I saw a Dóigra at English’s cabin,”
Bevyn said, full memory of the horror he’d seen

there surfacing in his mind’s eye to nauseate him.
“He came into contact with the Amazeen

somewhere.”

“Do you need help with this? Lord Arawn is available.”

“I’ll let you know,”
Bevyn answered.

“Stop them, Lord Bevyn,”
Lord Kheelan said.
“No matter what you have to do. Stop them

from transporting any of our people off-world.”

Bevyn knew the Shadowlord had withdrawn.

“Call on me if you need me, Lord Bevyn
,” came another voice close on the heels of the

Shadowlord’s departure.

“I will, milord,”
Bevyn replied, knowing it was the Prime Reaper who spoke.

Lawler set in the midst of a small vale with lush, green rolling hills cupped around

it. It was a pleasant little burg that was well kept and fairly prosperous. A serpentine

river ran to the east of the small settlement that was fairly new by Terran standards. The

town had come into existence a few years after the Burning War had all but destroyed