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The river’s breath met him again, cool and endless. Dawn bled pale light across the water. Behind him, the warehouse hissed and crackled, flames finding burlap and cotton.Eli did not linger. He cut down a narrow lane, boots soft on damp stone, smoke trailing him like a hunted man’s shadow. The city was stirring: a cart rolling heavy on its axles, hooves clopping on cobble, a shutter banging open, a single voice calling low to another across the way. A bell tolled somewhere, slow and hollow, and the sound carried long in the thinning dark.He kept to the alleys, slipping through the ribs of the city where the night still clung. Once, shouts flared behind him, boots striking fast, but they turned another way, chasing phantoms in the smoke. He moved steady, not wasting strength, the saddlebag biting into his shoulder with every step.By the time the sun tipped the rooftops, his course was fixed. The sight of the boardinghouse door stirred an older memory: smoke rolling over a ridge, the ground shaking under cannon fire, gray lines pressing in until there was nowhere left to stand. He could still see Caleb Thorne beside him, shoulder torn, musket blackened, holding fast while their regiment buckled. They had both thought it was the end until blue reinforcements stormed the field and drove the enemy back. Blood and grit had bound them that day, and Eli had never forgotten it.The boardinghouse crouched near the river, clapboards gray with damp, its porch rail sagging. Eli mounted the steps slow, then rapped once with the Colt’s butt against the jamb.Inside came the scrape of a chair, then the slow tread of bare feet. A bolt slid, and the door cracked open. Caleb’s face appeared in the gap, eyes sharp even in the gray of morning.“Eli,” he said. “You made it.”“Move aside.”Caleb stepped back, and Eli slipped into the narrow room. The air smelled of river damp and stale coffee. Caleb’s shirt hung open at the throat, his hair pressed from the pillow, but his stance was steady.Eli set the saddlebag on the table. The weight of coin and notes landed with a solid thud.Caleb studied it, his jaw tight. “It will pay what I owe. But you know how these men are. Even when silver crosses the table, they find another way to keep a man tied.”Eli leaned against the wall, watching him. “Then let them try. Just do not bend your neck.”Caleb’s gaze lifted from the bag. The weariness in his eyes was plain, but there was no surrender in them. “They will not find me bending.”Eli nodded once. “Good. Because I did not wager and bleed to drag you clear of one ruin only to see you stumble into another.”The silence that followed was steady, not strained. Outside, a cart rattled down the street, iron rims grinding on cobble. Eli pulled the bag back to his shoulder, the strap biting.“Get yourself ready,” he said, turning for the door. “We will settle this together, while the chance is still ours.”—•—Caleb cooked quick and plain, bacon crisping in a pan blackened from long use, coffee thick enough to pass for tar. They washed at a basin by the window, the cold water waking them sharper than the food. Neither spoke much. The day ahead carried its own weight. When they stepped out, the sun was full on the rooftops, the streets busier with wagons and men heading to their trades. Eli kept his coat closed over the saddlebag, Caleb walking square at his side.The gambling house stood on a corner near the riverfront, its false front painted bright once but now dulled by smoke and damp. The batwing doors opened into a wide hall already alive with the clatter of dice and the slap of cards. Roulette wheels creaked as early players hunched over the tables, faces drawn from a night that had never ended. Lamps smoked in their brackets, cutting through the haze with narrow cones of yellow. The air was thick with spilled whiskey, sawdust, and sweat.From the far end of the hall a man rose from his chair, smoothing the front of a dark waistcoat. He walked unhurried, boots ringing sharp on the boards, the crowd shifting aside without needing to be told. His hair was oiled neat, his mustache trimmed, and a gold watch chain gleamed across his vest. He looked more banker than river rat, but the eyes behind the polish were cold and measuring.He stopped before Eli and Caleb, nodding once in courtesy.“I do not believe we have been introduced,” he said, voice even and sure. “Nathaniel Harper. This house, and others along the river, are mine to keep.” His gaze moved to the saddlebag on the felt, then back to Eli. “And you are?”“Warren,” Eli answered.The smile that touched Harper’s mouth did not reach his eyes. “Mr. Warren. A name I had not heard until this morning, yet already it carries weight. Word reached me early. Burke vanished from his boat. His lieutenant lies dead on a warehouse floor. One of his stores burned to the pilings. All before the sun cleared the river mist.” He spread his hands slightly. “It would seem I may inadvertently be indebted to you.”Eli’s face was steady. “I did not come to trade favors. My friend’s debt is here to be settled.”Harper regarded Caleb for a long moment, then touched the bag with one finger. “Then let us see it done.”The coins clinked as the dealer opened the straps and counted through. At the tally Harper inclined his head. “The note is cleared. A man paid in full is a free man. You have chosen good company, Mr. Thorne.”Caleb’s voice was calm, firm. “The debt was mine, but the standing is my own.”Harper’s smile sharpened. “I admire resolve. It makes for strong allies, and dangerous enemies.” His eyes flicked back to Eli. “If ever you tire of the trail, Mr. Warren, you would find work here. A man who keeps his head while others lose theirs has value in this city.”“I ride my own way,” Eli said.“No offense meant,” Harper answered smoothly, lifting a hand. “Consider it only an invitation, not a chain.”The hall stirred back to life as Harper turned away, his presence loosening the air. The dealers returned to their games, dice rattled, and the wheel spun again.Eli and Caleb stepped back into the street, the river wind sharp and clean. Caleb walked silent beside him for a time before speaking. “They will not put chains on me again.”Eli gave a short nod. “See that they do not.”

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Eli Warren: Ashes and Silver

Erin

E. S. O'Connor

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Eli Warren: Ash and Silver

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Erin O'Connor

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