The Breeders Series: The Complete Box Set
Page 5
“Who are you?” A venomous voice cuts the silence.
A shadow slinks into the room until he forms into one of the most frightening men I’ve ever seen. The man’s black hair is greased flat to his skull. His button-down shirt is as white as Bounty’s milk, a feat so impossible in this landscape I gape in wonder. His down-turned mouth drags up over sharp white teeth that match his white shirt. He can only be the Warden.
“Stand up,” he commands. His acid-green eyes sear into me.
I pull myself upright. The Warden runs his eyes up and down my body. I fight the urge to shudder.
“Darrel says you have bail?” the Warden hisses. The guard trots in the doorway, pulling up his pants.
“I do.” My heart patters in my chest. His eyes seem to see through me.
The Warden laces his long white fingers together. “What’s the item of trade?”
“A quad,” I say. “Yamaha. She runs like a dream.”
His eyes narrow to slits at the word she. My stomach does somersaults.
He steps towards me, so close now I smell onions on his breath. “Pull down your bandanna.”
I glance at Arn for help he can’t provide. I focus back on the Warden. “Why?”
The Warden gives me a reassuring smile, yet he looks more like a jackal than a lap dog. “I like to see the face of the man before I do business.” He hisses the word bizznezz like a snake.
Somewhere in the distance, a fly buzzes against a window. Down the street, someone is shouting. The heat of the room intensifies.
I swallow hard. “What if I say no?”
The Warden snaps his fingers, a sound like stepping on a dry twig, and Darrel jumps up with the shotgun.
The Warden widens his smile. His polished white teeth remind me of fangs. “If you don’t uncover, I’ll know you’re an outlaw. We don’t tolerate outlaws.” Outlawzz.
I picture the lizard I killed the day before. How did it feel when my snare tightened around his throat? Slowly, I reach up and slip my finger between the bandanna and my skin. Then I yank down, exposing my face.
The Warden recoils. “A bender.”
He doesn’t think I’m a girl. Relief floods me, then stops cold. Some think benders are filthy half-people. They’re cursed at, kicked out of town, killed for being neither male nor female, but some mutated combination of both.
The Warden snaps a hand at Darrel. “Arrest him.”
“No!” Arn tugs at his cell bars.
Darrel takes a heavy step towards me.
“Don’t.” I back up till I hit the far wall. My eyes search for an exit, but the only way out is blocked by Darrel and the Warden. I look to Arn.
“He ain’t done nothing wrong,” Arn says, a mournful look falling over his bruised face.
The Warden reaches for the gun holstered at his hip. White flecks of spit sprinkle the corners of his mouth. “He’s what’s wrong.” He points a thin finger at me. “He’s an abomination. A poison in this nice community.” The sound of his revolver sliding out of the holster echoes in the heavy stillness of the room.
My eyes snap from Arn to Darrel to the Warden. This can’t happen. I might be able to dodge Darrel who’s bulky and slow. Then I’ll have to get through the Warden and his polished revolver. Even if I manage that, I’ll have to get past security at the gate. And I’ll still be without Arn.
“Don’t—” is all I manage to say as Darrel grabs for my wrist. This time I won’t be able to stop the tears.
A new voice cuts in from the doorway. “What’s going on, fellas?”
Everyone turns. The man I saw in the general store stands in the doorway. His hands rest on his hips, inches away from the two big, shiny revolvers. He’s tall and well built, not sickly and thin like ninety percent of the people outside. With his cowboy hat thumbed back, I can see his face. Even in my distress, my eyes linger on his smooth skin, strong jaw and sky blue eyes.
He strides in and tips his hand in respect. “Afternoon, Warden. Couldn’t help overhear your conversation with this here gentleman.” He points to me. “Guess I missed the memo ’bout benders being outlawed.”
The Warden swipes back one of his slicked curls. He wags a finger at the young man like a naughty child. “Clay, this is not your business. Leave it alone.”
Clay’s boots click on the floor as he steps toward us, a dazzling smile on his face. “Now, see, here’s the thing. Sheriff’s off to see about a horse and he left me in charge. I know you won’t go against Sheriff’s orders.”
Hatred creeps up the corners of the Warden’s face, the crease between his lips showing those sharp, white teeth.
Clay ignores the Warden’s grimace and points at me. “What’s the kid here for?”
Eyes snap back to me. When Clay’s meet mine, my face flushes. I got no words.
Arn answers from his cell. “Posted my bail.”
“That so?” Clay stops and crosses his arms over his chest. His blue eyes deepen in hue the closer he gets.
I nod. I want to pull my bandanna up over my face to hide the blush that’s burning up my cheeks.
“Well then, let’s get ’em on their way.” Clay winds his hand in a hurry-up motion.
The Warden holsters his gun. He begins cranking his neck back and forth like a ruffled chicken. Black curls escape their grease mortar and bob back and forth. “This … this is outrageous. When the Sheriff learns of this—”
“He’ll be pleased as punch we dealt with our neighbors without shootin’ holes in ’em this time.” Clay’s face carries a hint of mischief. This boy, no more than eighteen, must be somebody around here.
The Warden stomps out the door, spitting curses. Clay watches, a smirk at the corners of his mouth.
I’m too shocked to move. Just a minute ago, I was being locked up. Now a handsome boy keeps smiling at me. I let a tentative smile creep onto my face until I remember how guarded I have to be. Clay’s the Sheriff’s right-hand man. One good deed and a handsome smile can’t erase all the people they’ve hurt, all those women sent to the Breeders.
Clay’s crisp button-down shirt tightens around the muscles of his arms as he stretches out his arm. “You got bail for this man?”
I wring my hands and force myself to focus. “I was gonna trade my quad.”
His palm is smooth, clean. I wonder what he thinks of my grimy fingers as I dig the quad key out of my pants pocket and drop it in his hand.
He closes his hand over the key. “All set. Darrel, unlock the cell.”
Darrel lurches forward and unlocks Arn’s cell. Arn shuffles out and I slide myself under his arm for support. As we head toward the door, I gather the courage to meet Clay’s eyes.
“Thank you,” I say. “I hope I can repay this kindness.” More blush. My cheeks will catch fire if I don’t get out now.
He thumbs his hat at me. “Don’t mention it, but I’d light out fast. That Warden’s a devil.”
I help Arn toward the exit.
He calls to us again. “I’d cover up your face. Not everyone’s as open-minded.”
I lift the bandanna over my mouth and nose. Beside me, Arn spits another hunk of blood onto the dusty road.
“Come on,” I say, as he leans into me. “Let’s get the hell out of dodge.”
“Don’t say hell.”
I smile as I hustle him onward.
Amazingly, getting through the gate goes more smoothly than I could’ve hoped. I retrieve my gun with no trouble. The clunky vehicle turns over on the first try. When I finally see the town through the cloud of dust in the rear view, I relax a notch. I glance over at Arn, who’s slumped over in the passenger seat. In the red sunset glare, his whole face looks bloody, though I know it’s a trick of the light.
“Don’t worry,” I say, though I’m not sure he can hear me. “We’ll be home in no time. Our luck’s turning around.”
He opens the eye that’s not swelled shut. “Don’t count your chickens. It’s a long way home.”
Chapter Five
The screen door thwacks as my mama barrels out, her nightgown flowing behind her in the moonlight.
“Riley,” she cries, her hands flying up to her mouth. Then her eyes land on my stepfather. “Oh God.”
She runs through the yard barefoot. Gravel tears at her feet, but she doesn’t bat an eye. She throws her arms around us, sobbing. She smells like home.
The door bangs again and Ethan stumbles out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He blinks, and then runs down the steps, smashing into us, almost knocking everyone over.
“Dad!” Then he turns his oval face to me. “Riley, you brought him home. I knew you would.”
Tears leak from the corners of my eyes, but my hands are too full of my family to wipe them away.
Slowly we make our way toward the house, touching, hugging. Ethan asks a million questions which no one answers. Auntie’s on the porch, clutching her shawl around her. She shakes her head at me as we pass. “Stubborn girl.” She grips my arms and smiles.
My mama takes my spot under Arn and leads him to the stairs. When they get to the base of the steps, she turns and throws her arms around me again. “Thank you for bringing him home,” she whispers and kisses my cheek. They limp up the stairs.
Ethan’s cold fingers find mine. “Caught a rabbit while you were gone.”
I lead him down the hall to our bedroom. “That’s fantastic, little bud. Did you kill it?”
He drops his eyes. “I couldn’t.”
“What’d you do with him?” I drag my body down the dark hallway. So tired.
Ethan swings our arms back and forth lightly. “He’s in a cage in the barn. I named him Superman.”
I chuckle. “Superman, huh? Now we really can’t eat him.”
“I wanna keep him.”
“We’ll see.”
I fall into bed with my clothes on. My last image is Ethan curling into his blanket, his dark hair falling over his sleepy eyes. Man, it’s good to be home.
I wake to a sharp beam of sun dancing on my eyelids. I squint into the midday sun. Ethan usually has me up at the crack of dawn with his chatter. Either I slept through it, or he thought I needed the rest. Boy, is he right. My body aches like I’ve taken a bad fall down a rocky hill. The goose egg where my head hit the jail wall smarts when I probe it. My mouth tastes like a dirt road. Yet, the voices down the hall are laughing. All worth it.
I drag my body out of bed and down the hall to the kitchen. Arn sits at the table with a fresh bandage wrapped around his bare chest. His eye’s still swollen shut and his jaw looks like someone put it on crooked, but his color has returned. He spoons weak broth into his mouth. His hand trembles when the spoon meets his lips, but he steadies it easily enough.
My mama strides around the kitchen, pounding fresh dough on the counter, chopping angled carrots. Her burned face is set in a calm contentment. Auntie knits in the chair opposite Arn. She’s the first one to notice me leaning in the doorway.
“Up, I see,” she says, her needles clicking. “Thought you’d sleep the day away.”
“Hush, Bell. She needed her sleep.” My mother floats over and hugs me. “Morning, angel. Hungry?”
I haven’t eaten since the canned beans I scarfed on the road yesterday afternoon. My stomach growls. “Yeah. Is it lunchtime?”
My mama drops dough balls on a tray. “We’re pulling out all the stops. I’m making Auntie’s famous bread, we got fried rabbit, and I found an apple in the back of the pantry.”
“Rabbit?” I look for Ethan. “We ain’t eating Superman, are we?”
She shakes her head, but her smile wilts. “I promised Ethan we wouldn’t hurt Superman, but he’s pretty upset we can’t take him. I told him he has a few days until the move, but he’s out sulking in the barn. Maybe you could talk to him.”
I don’t understand. “What?”
“I said he’s sulking in the barn. When you’re done eating, could you talk to him?”
“Not that. The other part. The part about us moving.”
She stops slicing carrots into little orange circles. “Riley, you didn’t think we could stay here after what happened? We’ll never be able to trade in town again. As soon as Arn’s well, we’re leaving.”
I stare at my mama with my mouth open. This had not crossed my mind. Of course, she’s right. We can’t trade in town, but moving means traipsing through dangerous territory. Last time, it was nearly impossible to find a house with a working well outside of town walls. We’ll risk being attacked, running out of gas, or starving to death. No wonder Ethan’s in the barn sulking.
Arn raises his eyes to mine. The bruising under his left eye is yellow-green. He goes back to spooning the soup into his mouth. Auntie says nothing, but the furious clicking of her knitting needles speaks for her.
My mama offers me a calming smile. “It’ll be fine, darling, as long as we’re together.”
As long as we’re together. It usually brings me comfort. Today it falls flat.
“I’m going to the barn,” I say, heading for the back door.
“What about your lunch?” she calls.
“I lost my appetite.” It’s a childish thing to say, but I can’t help myself. I am jogging when I hit the back porch.
The barn’s familiar animal scent greets me as I enter. Bounty moos deep in her throat. I detour towards her and stroke the soft fur along her nose.
“Hey, girl. Thanks for watching them while I was gone.” She flips her ears back and forth, dislodging a few flies that buzz up and spiral around to her back. We won’t be able to take Bounty. Arn will butcher her and the pigs before we leave. God, this day just gets worse. I turn away from her big brown eyes.
Ethan’s squatting on the dirt floor next to the rabbit cage he’s constructed out of old chicken wire. He’s passing bits of carrot through the bars. Superman is a scrawny brown hare with long ears and a little cotton ball tail. He’s too skinny to make a good dinner, anyway. I sit in the hay next to Ethan, my arms around my knees. My brother slides another carrot top through the wire into Superman’s awaiting teeth.
Finally, Ethan looks up at me. “Are you gonna kill him?” he whispers.
I reel back. “What? No! I’m not going to kill your pet.”
Ethan shrugs. “Mom says I can’t keep him when we move, so I thought maybe she sent you out to kill him.”
I shake my head. “She promised. You and your pal got a couple more days. Then we’ll send him back to his bunny family.”
Ethan slips his fingers through the mesh cage and strokes Superman’s soft sides. The jackrabbit is surprisingly calm at my brother’s touch.
“He bite?” I ask.
Ethan shakes his head. “Not me. When I got him out of the snare, he was bucking a lot and scratched my arm, but I calmed him down.”
I stick my fingers through the wire and stroke Superman’s rump. He twitches a little at the initial touch but doesn’t jump away.
I lean into Ethan’s skinny frame until our shoulders touch. “It’ll be fine, you know. As long as we’re together.”
Ethan looks up at me through a dark lock of hair. “You sound like Mama.”
“Well, it’s true.” I twirl a piece of hay around my finger. “As long as we’re there, you’ll be safe.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about,” he whispers.
I mull this over. The worry I have every night for my family weighs so heavily on my chest I can’t breathe. How big must that feel for a little boy? I put my hand on his bony shoulder. “You knew I was coming back, right? I wouldn’t leave you.”
Ethan looks at me, his round, dark eyes shining in the dimness. “Promise?”
“Of course.” My chest tightens at the thought of Ethan wat
ching my dust cloud recede as I drove away. I ruffle his hair, trying to lighten the mood. “Besides, who’d make fun of you for picking boogies and wiping them under the bed?”
“Shut up,” he says without emotion. He smiles with his mouth, but not his eyes. So serious, my little brother.
I stand up. He gives Superman one more carrot and then stands, brushing the hay off his pants.
“I wish there was a way to keep Superman,” he says, sighing.
“Maybe you can fold him in your suitcase like this.” I scoop him up and turn him upside down, so his knees are at my face and his head dangles toward the ground. When he giggles, his belly shakes beneath my arms. He nearly kicks me in the face as he struggles to right himself. In a month, he’ll be too big for me to do this anymore.
When he starts tickling my ribs, I nearly drop him on his head. Instead, I roll him into a pile of hay near Bounty’s stall. When we walk out, he slips his hand into mine.
“Maybe you can talk to Dad for me. You saved his life. He owes you.”
I tug a piece of hay out of his hair. “Nah,” I say, shaking my head. “After all the crap I’ve put Arn through, I bet he figures we’re ’bout even.”
I dream I’m back in town searching for Arn. I run up the dusty street, but my legs droop like useless sandbags. In the dirt, I claw through the scrub on my belly. My heart pounds up into my throat. Someone’s after me.
I feel eyes on me, sending shivers up my arms. The deserted street is empty. The hot sand burns my hands as I dig forward. I have to get away. I have to find Arn.
A hand circles my leg. I scream and claw through the sand, but the hand snags my pants and drags me backward. I wheel around, unable to breathe.
Greased, black hair, watery green eyes the color of bile and a mouth full of jagged, white fangs. The Warden has found me. I gasp and struggle, but his fingers are tentacles circling around my legs, dragging me to his mouth, which unhinges like a copperhead’s. He will swallow me whole. Every part of me screams. My fingers claw through the dirt, but it’s no use. His fingers scratch up my legs and cut into the soft flesh of my stomach. He drags me towards rows and rows of sharp, white fangs.