Page 73 of Song Bird Hearts

“What happened in the swamps?” I ask, raising my brow.

Gilden grins. “Oh, Knoxy Poo just caught himself face to face with sweet ole fluffy.”

Knox glares at Gilden. “He forgets to mention Fluffy is a fourteen-foot alligator with an attitude.”

“Not my fault he didn’t like you,” Gilden laughs. “He ain’t ever chomped at me.”

Main Street has become a circus, one that the whole town, and the country beyond it, can’t seem to stop watching. And now, the cameras are rolling for more than just the livestream. The media who are brave enough to be out despite the Foundation having the kind of pull to take them off air are interviewing everyone. Not all of the big ones are here, as expected, but plenty of smaller ones are. I do spy PBS at some point and I’m almost tempted to go ask them if I can meet Elmo. I love Elmo.

I watch as Indie, who I’d met briefly when she interviewed me earlier, holds a mic out to Esther Nugguat, the owner of the Glam Ranch Salon. I have fond memories of her cutting my hair when I was a little girl.

“This town was built by the stubborn,” Esther says into Indie’s recorder, her eyes bright and hard. “You think we’re gonna let some rich bastard scare our girl? Not a chance.”

It all should feel like triumph, like we’re winning. But the air is tight despite it. Too tight. The longer this all goes on, the tenser I get, until my shoulders ache from it.

John steps out of the coffee shop beside me, his sheriff’s star pinned proudly to his chest. It’s shiny, like he’d only just polished it this morning. His gaze scans the streets when he walks out, like he’s looking for snipers. Hell, he probably is.

“You okay?” he asks, not even looking at me.

“Not even close,” I answer honestly.

He chuckles. “Good. Means you still got your head on straight.”

I shake my head. “You’re too calm for someone about to face down a conspiracy and the danger that comes with it.”

“Steele taught me two things,” he replies, finally meeting my eyes and smiling. “Trust your gut. And never bet against a Decatur.”

I laugh, but my smile is still tight. Everyone is moving, prepping, and planning. Inside, my nerves are coiled like snakes, preparing for it all to go wrong.

And like my instincts conjure it, the ease of preparation shatters.

The sound of a pop echoes in the air, louder than a firecracker. Someone screams, and my ears start to ring as chaos explodes. My handmade mug explodes on the table where it sits to the left of me. I don’t even have time to react to it.

Someone grabs me just before there’s another pop, and another. Time blurs as I’m yanked backwards, almost too slowly.

And then John is in front of me, tackling me down behind his truck just as the windshield shatters.

“Shit! John!” I scream, fumbling over him. I may not understand what’s happening, but I know that I should have been hit by a bullet. That’s been close. Too close. And I don’t feel anything other than an ache from where John had barreled into me and a bit of a scrap from hitting the concrete. John’s hand had even cradled my head.

My hands trail over John’s shoulders and back, searching to ease my panic. When my fingers come away sticky and red, I gasp, yanking at his shirt as blood blooms like a flower on his pristine sheriff uniform.

“I’m fine,” he grunts. “Just my shoulder. You alright?”

“I. . .yeah.” My hands are shaking. “How?”

The deputy that appears in front of us, standing up despite the danger, gives me pause despite my panic over John’s injury. He’s pale, stricken, as he takes us all while we crouch down for safety.

“What are you doin’, Deputy?” John snarls. “Get your ass behind cover!”

“I’m sorry,” he says, his hands twisting together. “I’m sorry. They offered a lot of money and Mom’s been fighting to keep her place over in Boulder afloat. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t think it would be this bad. I?—”

“Deputy Martin,” John snarls. “Are you sayin’ you let those assholes into this town?”

More pops, bullets pinging into the storefronts around us.

“I—I—I didn’t know what to do,” the man wails.

“Get his ass down!” Gilden snarls. “He’s gon’ get shot!”

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