Chapter 27

• In the dimming light of a late autumn evening, within the austere walls of the Salton place, the air was thick with the weight of unspoken reckonings. The room was alive with murmurs of discontent and anxious expectation_ a motley congregation of hardened outlaws gathered in a fateful conclave. Grimwood sat at the head of the long, scarred table, flanked by Will Durov, Rhinehart, and Williams, their faces drawn and troubled as they wrestled with the unfolding implications of Riggs’s death. Outside, Case had ridden off into the uncertain dusk, scouting for word of Danny_ a man whose absence grew with every ticking moment, stirring a cauldron of unease among the gang.
• In one of the quieter corners of that room, Ellie had withdrawn into solitude, her presence confined to the small chamber they had reluctantly assigned to her. Though several had tried to coax her out with gentle entreaties and half-hearted conversation, her resolve was as steely as the desert night. Alone, she clung to her silence like a shield, leaving the others to while away the endless wait in varied, restless ways.
• It was Will Durov who first broke the heavy stillness. He raised his weathered mouth organ to his lips, and from its melancholy pipes emerged a dolorous ballad_ a plaintive tune that seemed to echo the sorrow of lost men and forgotten dreams. The notes, thick with lamentation, wove a tapestry of grief and defiance that momentarily softened the brutal edges of their conversation. Yet, as the mournful strains wavered in the twilight, Durov’s attention was suddenly arrested. His gaze snapped to the doorway, his eyes narrowing in alarm.