Doctor Who_ Peacemaker - James Swallow [32]
that moment, the thing that scared her the most was the thought that she might never see them again. ‘But we all have to be strong.’
He walked on, raising his head. ‘I think I see it.’
‘The wagon?’
Nathan pointed to a tall box on high wheels. It was a rectangular frame with a canvas roof and wooden panels lashed together by thick rope. Lurid text in foot-high letters announced that this was The Most Illustrious Medicine Show of Professor Alvin Q. Godlove.
‘Purveyor of Potions, Bane of All Ailments Under the Sun,’ she read aloud. ‘Blimey. Doesn’t have a thing about modesty, does he?’
They circled the wagon, finding a dozy grey horse tethered at the front, nibbling at a bale of hay.
Nathan patted the animal. ‘Where’s your boss at, huh?’
‘Not here,’ Martha admitted, peering at the crates and sacks lashed to the sides of the vehicle. ‘Perhaps we ought to take a peek, do you think?’
The boy frowned. ‘I’ve a mind to put a torch to the damned thing,’
he retorted.
‘I think the subtle approach might be better.’ She walked back to the rear of the wagon and balanced on t he wooden steps there. ‘Keep an eye out. I’m going to have a nose around.’ She pulled back the flap and scrambled inside.
The saloon seemed to be the best bet; every hamlet, no matter where or when you were, usually had an alehouse and a place of worship –or whatever the local equivalents were – as the focal points of their community. And Alvin Godlove, despite his name and in keeping with what the Doctor had intuited about his character, did not seem like the kind of man who’d be spending much time in church.
Hands in his pockets, the Doctor crossed the street towards the drinking den, which bore a sign proudly announcing its name as the Pioneer and offering drinks, dancing and games of chance. Unlike the compact Bluebird back in Redwater, the Pioneer was broad and open, and through the windows he could see tables set up for dice and the 80
like; this was more a casino than a place to get a drink, built to soak up the earnings of workers from the local iron mines.
But he never got to the doors. Three men in shabby coats and black hats stepped out and blocked the entrance. They did it with undis-guised menace, each of them giving the Doctor a predatory glare.
‘Hello?’ he offered. ‘Are you the bouncers?’ He smiled. ‘Let me guess.’ He pantomimed a gruff voice. ‘ You’re name’s not down, you’re not coming in. Is there a private party going on, then?’
‘Brown coat,’ said one of the men.
‘Yup,’ agreed the taller of the three.
‘Reckon it’s him?’ said the other.
‘Yup,’ repeated the tall man.
The Doctor studied them back. ‘Do I detect a family resemblance?
I do, don’t I? You’re all brothers!’ He grinned. ‘Brothers Grim, if you don’t mind me saying.’
‘The name is Lyle,’ growled the tallest. ‘Guess you ought to know it before you take a dirt nap.’
He held up a hand. ‘Now let me stop you right there. I’m new in town, and I’m not looking for any trouble, far from it. . . ’ The Doctor paused. ‘Well, not any more trouble than the trouble I’ve already found, if you follow me. . . ’
One of the other brothers snorted and spat. ‘You talk too much.’
‘Yes,’ agreed the Doctor, ‘that has been said, on more than one occasion. But I find communication is always the best place to start from –’
He broke off as the three men pushed open their jackets to reveal the butts of their pistols.
‘We’re callin’ you out, stranger,’ said the taller of the Lyles. ‘Step back and make your play.’
‘You’ve only just met me.’ The Doctor frowned. ‘It usually takes people, ooh, at least five minutes before they decide they want to kill me.’ A flicker of movement in the saloon’s window caught his eye and he saw a shifty figure peering out at him. One of the brothers gave the man a questioning look and in return he got a firm nod.
‘ Oh. OK, I get it now.’ Judging by the obvious finery of the shifty man’s clothing in comparison to the dress of the other folks in Ironhill, 81
there was only one person it could have been. ‘Alvin Godlove!’ The Doctor called out.