Doctor Who_ Peacemaker - James Swallow [28]
Godlove glanced down at his hand. Where he had held the cure-all there were whorls and circles writhing in his palm, dots where tiny wires like the spines of a cactus had implanted themselves in his living flesh. There were moments when he felt the thing working at him, shifting the bones and meat of his hand; and lately he was feeling it in his arm and shoulder too. His hand contracted into a ball. ‘I know what I’m doing,’ he retorted. ‘In case you hadn’t noticed, we’re richer than we’ve ever been! This thing –’ He tapped the pocket where the device rested. ‘This thing is the greatest boon a man could ever have!’
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Walking Crow shook his head slowly. ‘I have touched it too. I heard the voice inside it. It is hungry. All you have done is make that hunger strong.’ He looked away. ‘The thing is a curse. We should kill it.’
Godlove snorted with harsh laughter.
‘No wonder you people
couldn’t hold on to this land! You got no guts!’ He prodded the Pawnee in the chest. ‘This “thing” will make me wealthy, you’ll see!
You don’t like it, you can go back to that rat hole where I found you!’
The Pawnee turned away. ‘It feeds on decay,’ he said quietly. ‘What can anything that feasts on death be but bad medicine?’
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At first it wasn’t fun at all; as Martha Jones clung to her horse with one hand, using the other to keep her hat pressed to her head so it wouldn’t fly off, riding felt very far away from fun indeed.
Nathan was as good as his word, taking them on a winding course through the foothills, and within a short time they were racing through narrow canyons and arroyos, riding like the wind.
The Doctor kept pace with her, eagerly urging his mount on and grinning wildly. His coat crackled and flapped out behind him like a cloak. ‘This is great, isn’t it?’ he thrilled, and he let out a yee-hah rebel yell at the top of his lungs. That was the Doctor, he could make a good time out of anything, never mind if it was terrifying as well.
Martha managed a faint smile, but concentrated more on staying in the saddle. This wasn’t some gentle canter about the countryside; they were going full tilt here, at Pony Express speeds. But little by little, Martha got into the swing of it. The slightly brittle smile on her face began to widen and, by the time they had crested the hills and started down the other side toward a distant smudge of buildings, she was starting to let herself enjoy it. It was a bit scary to be on the back of a wilful animal galloping along at breakneck pace, but the thrill of it gradually tipped the balance against the fear. Martha dared to sit 71
taller in the saddle, and soon she felt like she had the measure of it.
‘Easy,’ she said to herself. ‘A walk in the park. Uh, desert.’
Joe had picked a swift but even-tempered horse for her, and she felt a bit bad about forgetting to ask its name. She shot the Doctor a sly look that he missed completely and bent down to whisper in the animal’s ear. ‘I know. I’ll call you Rose, how about that?’ She grinned to herself. Growing up, Martha hadn’t been one of those girls who adored books like Black Beauty, gymkhanas and that kind of thing.
Living on the outskirts of London’s sprawl, all that horsy countryside stuff had seemed a million miles away from the world she came from; but now, she was starting to see the appeal of it.
With her panic fading, Martha took in some of the landscape as it flashed by. The rusty earth ranged away toward the distant horizon beneath a brilliant cobalt-coloured sky dappled with thin streaks of cloud. Buttes – great flat-topped mountains with sheer, rippled sides –reached up towards the blue. From a distance they resembled gigantic anthills, the vast pedestals carved from the living rock by wind and erosion. This was the beating heart of the American Frontier, the West in all its vibrant glory. It struck Martha how lucky she was to be able to see it like this; how many people could say they had seen this country when it was