Page 9 of The Last True Hero

"I want you to look at your daughters gathered here today, or maybe your sons too, for the slavers like some big strapping boys to work their fields and their factories. I want you to think about what happens if the reivers come back, or heaven forbid, get a taste of the softer times here." He looked around, daring any man to meet his eyes.

"Easy for you to say. Who are you to tell us what to do?"

"I'm the man who's going to ride with your rancher here and get those women back. I'm the man who's going to tell you what you need to do to keep the reivers off your back." He let a faint smile show. "I'm the man who hunts these scum for a living, and I enjoy it. I'm good at it. Same as your own boy here, Sinclair, is good at it." He turned and met the other bounty hunter's eyes. "Is there anything I've said here that you don't agree with?"

Sinclair tipped his chin back. "No," he called. "I've been north. I've seen their walls at the settlements up there. I've seen how the reivers are getting more desperate by the day, and I've killed 'em too." He had the kind of cocky grin that the crowd ate up, but Adam could smell his sweat. "Reivers are scavengers, they're not even really predators. Why'd they sneak in at dawn? I'll tell you why. They've got rusted out guns, and piecemeal body armor sewn together out of scrap wheel hubs. They needed surprise on their side. Hell, maybe they got the numbers, but we've got something they don't have." His voice grew louder, and he thumped his chest. "We've got men, good men. We've got women"—he tilted his head toward the one they'd called Jenny—"who can shoot the eye out of a squirrel a hundred yards away. Our guns are good, our bullets are hard, and most of all, we've got a righteous kind of wrath to spare." His voice lowered, but it was no less powerful. "Reivers are cowards. We hit 'em with everything we've got and they'll run. They won't stand together. It's every man for himself out there, but if we ride as one, then we'll scare the ever-living daylights out of them."

It might take a little more than that, but Adam kept his opinion to himself.

With a flourish, Sinclair handed the floor back to Adam.

"Do you know what the strength of the northern settlements is?" he called. "We live together, we work together. One settlement gets hit and the others send relief troops their way. You want to protect your town? Then you need to get the other settlers hereabouts to work with you. You find a common building." He gestured toward the town hall behind them. "Something strong and easy to fortify. Gather enough food and water to last you a few weeks, until we return. Work together. Watch each other's backs. Have men on guard at every hour of the day with guns. Work out a roster. Radio in to the nearby towns and get them on alert, watching for reivers."

"But what about our houses?" an older woman called, nursing a kid on her hip.

He stared her straight in the eye. "I've seen a house rebuilt. I ain't ever seen someone put a person back together though, once they're full of holes. Take care of yourselves, then worry about your... replaceables." He gave the word the respect it deserved.

He had them.

Turning to Thwaites, he nodded. "All yours."

"We can't pay you much," the man said. "Or we can't promise you'll get anything if we return. There may not be much left."

"I don't do this for the money," Adam replied. He met Mia's eyes then. She looked shocked, but also curious. "I do this because it's my map and compass, as someone once said to me."

Thwaites stared at him for a long moment. "It'll get harder before it gets easier, son."

He couldn't remember the last time someone had called him “son.” Adam just smiled. "I've been to 'hard' before. It's not a place I enjoy, but it's a place I know well."