"What was that?" Valentine asked.
"A helluva killing." She moved some of the spilled laundry out of the way of the blood. The thirsty wood could absorb only so much. She smiled and planted a bloody kiss on his lips. "Good work with the water."
"Are you insane?"
"Maybe. We have to beat the heat. Let's jump off."
"Just a minute." Valentine couldn't leave it at that. If they set the caboose on fire and fled, there'd be a pursuit as soon as the engineers radioed for help. They had to make the deaths look plausible, sow a few doubts for when the train pulled in at the next stop to drop off people and take on corn and cattle.
As Duvalier gathered their gear, plus wet laundry, and rooted for supplies, Valentine put the sergeant and the half-dressed guard among spilled cards and whiskey on the floor, bloody utility knives in their hands. The guard who had been on duty they set out on the open rear galley for the moment, until they were ready to jump off. As the train slowed at the top of a gentle slope, they threw dead man, their packs, and themselves off. After the train disappeared into the night, Valentine concentrated on making it look like the wounded guard had somehow got caught under the train and succumbed to blood loss at the side of the tracks.
Duvalier removed traces of their presence from around the body. He watched her, greenish gray to his night-widened eyes.
Only after they were well off the rail line and moving south in Nebraska incognita did he vent. They cut across ancient fields, now returned to the prairie plants and insects.
"I thought we were 'all about the mission'?"
She let out an exasperated breath. "I don't like being pawed."
"You could have said something."
"You ever been attacked? You know ... for sex?"
"You led him on."
"I woke up, and there's a soldier with a hand on my boob. Maybe they had a gun on you. I didn't think, I reacted. Panic."
"So you just lost it?"
"Something like that."
"And when a posse comes?"
"Posse? Val, we killed some Overland rail guards. It's Overland's problem. You think the local Kurian is going to round up a bunch of men to search deserted silos? Hell no-he's got better things to do. At most, Overland will bitch to whoever's running the show here, and something will get negotiated. Meanwhile that sergeant's wives are going to be in for a surprise when they try to claim pension."
"This negotiation-it'll probably involve some aura changing hands, you think? It's the only thing Kur values."
She reached up and slapped a fly out of the air. "Not necessarily. Could be just corn."
"Hope it was worth it."
They took another twenty paces in silence.
He thought he heard a sniffle. "You want to talk abou-?"
"No!"
They caught a road at dawn, and Valentine stopped and unrolled a map. As they tried to guess their whereabouts, she was as calm as though they'd spent the last few hours berry-picking. Valentine couldn't help thinking that she'd killed the three Overland men for touching an old wound. A woman like Duvalier might attract male attention anywhere they went. A reaction like that in the wrong place-
His mind went back to when he had first met her. The shapeless old coat, the dirt, the half-starved flesh. Was she at war with her own looks, as well as Kur? He wondered if he was chasing the Twisted Cross under the guidance of a woman who was, to use Bone Lombard's phrase, of "disordered mind."
He couldn't think that. He'd lose hope. She'd just reacted. She wasn't disordered. Disordered wouldn't find the General and then get them home again safe.
Duvalier found them a little town the next day, and they walked in with a tale of stolen horses. They didn't get so much as a suspicious glance when they said they had business south. There was a truck loading for a southbound trip to Manhattan, Kansas; the driver was making notes as townspeople listed their needs. The Cats needed a quick ride, so they entered Kansas in the back of a diesel truck baby-sitting a load of eggs.
The driver was glad to have them. If there was anything besides eggs in the back-for instance, black market clothing or jewelry, the driver hinted-it might be a good idea to have a uniformed Trooper visible riding shotgun.
Duvalier had a contact near the truck's destination.