by Martha Carr
The next morning, Raven got up with the light, and after she had fed the goats, she loaded the jugs of milk onto the wagon. The celebration already seemed like a distant memory, even if the sting was still there.
She clapped her hands, and the sound echoed across the open ranch. “Let’s go, Deacon! Delivery time!”
The ranch hand emerged from a shed a few hundred yards away, slapping his hands on his pants to shake off the dust from the newly-processed polly grass. He adjusted the wide-brimmed hat on his head and walked across the ranch to the wagon with an amused smirk on his face. “Little anxious this morning?”
She ignored the verbal poke, hoping he hadn’t heard about her lack of a declaration, and hoisted two more jugs onto the cart. “I’ve got a lot to do today. Actually, I have a lot to do most days now. No time to wait around. As long as the sun is up, I’ve got to be working. And if we don’t move it, I’ll be late to school.”
Deacon walked around the wagon and greeted Presley, rubbing the length of her long snout and making kissing noises at the mare. “Hello, Presley. Ready to go for a walk? You know, Raven, I’m a hard-workin’ man myself, but you’re moving like we’re being chased. Something wrong?”
Raven placed the last jug on the wagon, not looking at him. “Nope. Just have to get a move on. Not enough hours in the day.” She jumped into the wagon and sat on the bench, gripping the reins of the horse.
“There never are.” Deacon groaned as he climbed in beside her. “These old bones. I know you’re eager, but give me those. You’re not driving.” He tugged the reins out of her hands and directed Presley to begin walking.
Heavy gray clouds hung overhead. Deacon squinted up at them. “That breeze is a little cool and moving fast. Wouldn’t surprise me if we got a bit of rain today.” He clicked his tongue. “We need it, too. Makes working a little harder, but it sure helps the pastures get a little greener.”
Raven crossed her arms over her chest and glanced up at the sky. “I sure hope not. We need the rain, but that’s going to put off a lot of work today.” She tapped her foot on the hard wood underneath her.
Deacon glanced at her, watching her face as she stared straight ahead. “You sure you’re all right?”
“I’m fine. Just, I have some work to do for school. I don’t know how long it’s going to take, so the sooner we get this done, the sooner I can finish the rest of my chores and get to it.”
“You Academy folks are all the same.” He gave a slight chuckle. “When I was a kid, I hung out with my cousin Bishop. Fun kid. We ran all over the place, even roughhousing on the wall. Just idiot boy stuff. He was one of my best friends. Then he started at Fowler, and he quit spending time with me.”
Raven gave him a puzzled look. “Did he think he was too good for you or something?”
“Nah.” Deacon tugged on the reins in his left hand, steering Presley away from the side of the road. “Just got busy. They have a way of taking over your life at Fowler.” He paused. “Not saying it’s a bad thing. Just don’t forget about the rest of your life, you know? Can’t spend your whole time so focused on work that you forget to live.” He elbowed her. “Your grandpa told me about your shoulder.”
“Yeah? What did he tell you?” She glanced at him, trying to hide her surprise.
I could say I figured out that spell. That might work.
Deacon opened his mouth in a gap-toothed smile. “You don’t know what happened to your own shoulder?”
Raven shook her head. “No, it’s not that. I just know sometimes facts get messed up when you tell somebody.”
“He said it was just a flesh wound. The ointment did its job.” He squinted, tapping the side of his nose.
“Yeah, I was surprised too.” She tried to sound convincing. “That cream works miracles.”
The entrance to the town of Brighton grew larger while they bounced along the path. Deacon continued, “I won’t argue that. I got attacked by a mean old possum when I was a teen. My mama worked fast, cleaning out the gash and getting that cream in there. Hurt so bad I almost cussed in front of her, which would have led to pain that not even blue wort cream could fix!”
He let out a loud laugh, rocking his head back. “Weird that you thought it was worse than just a flesh wound. Remember? You told me the arrow dug into your shoulder. Said your healing spell wouldn’t fix it.”
Raven glanced down at her hands, avoiding eye contact while she tapped her fingers in her lap. “It sure felt like that. Those flesh wounds can fool you. It happens.”
Deacon stared straight ahead. “Yeah, it happens. Presley is staying on course today. I’m impressed.”
“I gave her a fistful of oats before we left. Wanted to fill her up so that she wouldn’t be distracted.”
He cocked an eyebrow, leaning over to give her a sidelong glance. “Okay. I hope you didn’t give her too much. An overfed horse is not something you want to be riding behind for long periods of time.”
“Hey, can I ask you a question before we get to town?”
“What’s that?”
“Last time we made deliveries,” she said haltingly, “we were talking about using magic all the time. You said something about it leading to darkness. You remember that?”
He inhaled sharply through his nose. “Yeah.”
She paused to give him a chance to say more, but he didn’t take the bait. “And? What is the darkness? What does magic have to do with it?”
Deacon gave the reins a sharp tug. “Hang on.” Presley made the hard right turn on the path so they could make it into the town. “Everything you do has an effect on something else, little girl. Even if you’re using magic to do good things that help others, you’re inviting a reaction that might not be what you’re looking for. There’s a kind of balance that nature makes us keep.”
The wagon reached the edge of town, and Deacon steered Presley to the side of the road, jumping down to tie her to a post. Raven hopped off the wagon and made her way to the back.
“You’re an inquisitive girl, Raven. You want to learn about that stuff, pay attention in class. I’m sure your professors know more than I do.”
Raven watched him closely, wondering. What more do you know? She picked up two jugs and walked toward the bakery, marveling at how well her shoulder was working.
After dropping off the milk, Raven returned to the cart. Deacon was already waiting on the bench, watching the horizon.
“Old Man Biggs tried to get an extra jug out of me,” she said. “Same old song and dance every delivery.”
Raven climbed up and sat down next to him as he jerked the reins, and the cart lumbered forward, heading to the center of town.
They reached the middle of the town, which was much less populated than during their last delivery.
“Good, no draft going on today,” murmured Deacon.
“What’s that commotion up there? Isn’t that Mary Thames?” Raven pointed to the far end of the square, where Mary Thames was clutching her young son Tyler in her arms.
“What is she doing off her ranch?” Deacon steered Presley to a stop. He glanced up at the woman again but got down, making his way to the back. “Let’s just keep working on these deliveries. You said you have a lot to do today, right?”
“Uh-huh,” Raven said, distracted. She stepped off the wagon, still watching Mary and the child. The boy lifted his head off her shoulder and looked at the people around them, who were trying to avoid talking to them both.
“Focus, Raven!” Deacon shouted, lugging two jugs of milk down the street toward a cobbler’s shop.
She pulled two jugs off the cart and made her way to the Wrangler, her eyes quickly adjusting to the low light inside the tavern. Zeke looked up from behind the bar, a wet glass in his hand. “Trying to get your deliveries in before the rain, huh, Raven?”
“Lots to do today, Zeke.” She nodded in the direction of the barflies. “Looks like they’re a little quieter today.”
Zeke flashed a quick smile and pulled
the jugs off the worn bar. “Sometimes they just need someone to shut them up. Have a good day. Stay dry.”
On her way out, Raven waved to the spent wizards sitting at the table in the back. They smiled at her, one of them raising his mug in a salute. A tall, wizened old man tapped the empty chair next to him, giving her a somber look.
“I’ll work on him!” she promised.
She walked around the fountain in the square, kicking a broken piece of brick. Mary and Tyler were making their way across the square from the other side. “Have you seen our dog Willie?” Mary asked the Fletcher boy, whose ranch was not far from the Moss Ranch. He was carrying firewood on his back and shook his head as he kept walking.
The woman’s forehead wrinkled with sadness. “He was a large white-and-brown-spotted cattle dog and answers to ‘Willie.’ Does anyone know anything?” Her voice broke with frustration.
Raven wove around the carts passing in the road, calling, “Mrs. Fletcher, what’s going on?”
Mary tilted her head, sighing with relief. “Finally, someone who will listen.” She clutched the back of Tyler’s head, pulling him closer and adjusting his weight. “Our cattle dog Willie has gone missing. He was our best dog! I’m telling you, he wouldn’t run off. Nobody has seen a thing. This town is not that big.”
Tyler lifted his head and looked at Raven with tears in his eyes. The sight broke her heart. “Poor little guy. I’ll keep an eye out for him. Our dogs have been known to take off after a fox, and they always turn up.”
Mary shook her head feverishly. “Not this dog. He disappeared overnight, and he would never do that. He’s a watchdog, slept in the barn. Something got him up in the middle of the night.”
She pointed her finger at Raven, whispering, “He does that when trespassers come. Even then, he makes enough noise that my husband runs out to take care of it.”
She shook her head hard. “No, he wouldn’t run away on his own. Somebody’s gone and taken him.”
Raven reached up and tightened her silky red ponytail, scanning her brain for possible explanations. “I know the elves have been sniffing around a lot lately.”
Mary closed her eyes and shook her head again. “Willie could handle elves. He took down two at a time once. No, this wasn’t elves.”
“And there’s no evidence of anything? He’s just gone?” Raven rubbed the edge of her pin.
The woman sighed. “We found some blood splattered on the outside of the barn door.” Her face grew pained. “We don’t know whose it is, but it has to be Willie’s.”
Deacon appeared out of nowhere and tugged Raven’s arm. “Come on, Raven. We have to finish our deliveries.”
Mary grabbed her other arm and leaned forward. “Be careful. Keep a watch out. If they can take Willie, they could take you.”
Deacon started, but he raised his hand to the woman and nodded. “Thank you, Mary. I’m sorry about your dog. Come on, Raven.” He hurried to the cart.
Raven stumbled to catch up, and they climbed back onto the wagon. As it rolled down the street, Raven muttered to herself, “Blood splattered.”
“Huh?”
“Deek, what do you think happened to the woman’s dog?”
He shrugged, paying attention to the road. “It probably ran away or something. It’s a dog, Raven. Stuff happens to dogs all the time.”
She looked over her shoulder, watching Mary and Tyler go from person to person, peppering them with questions. “But why is she so insistent someone took him? Why is she so convinced?”
“Who knows? Maybe she didn’t sleep well. Maybe she’s crazy, you know? There are plenty of those out there too.” He pulled Presley over for their next delivery.
“But she—”
“Raven, it’s a dog!” he snapped. “Dogs run away. Dogs get attacked. Maybe it was a really clever elf, or something else—another animal. There are a billion different explanations without getting into conspiracies.”
“I never said anything about a conspiracy.” She felt a tickle on the back of her neck. What is it Grandpa’s always saying? The most obvious answer… “Deacon, what about—”
He gave her a cold stare, and she stopped midsentence. Instead, she nodded silently, jumped off the cart, and grabbed two more jugs. The feeling the answer was right there sent a shudder down her back.
Chapter Fourteen
Raven walked out of the Elbert family home, pocketing the delivery fee Wendell Elbert had given her for the milk as a rumble passed overhead.
She peered at the sky and said, “Looks like we finished just in time. Those clouds are getting dark.” Across the narrow street, Presley pawed the ground and whinnied in response to another rumble of thunder. She jerked the wagon forward.
She darted over to the old mare and grabbed the metal rings holding the leather bit between her teeth, steadying her head. “Easy. It’s okay. We’re going to head home and get you back in the barn in just a moment.”
“Wooo!” Deacon jogged up and leapt into the cart without breaking his stride. “Let’s get the hell out of here. Storm’s a-brewin’!”
Raven patted Presley on the side of the head. “See?” She hoisted herself into the cart, barely sitting on the wooden bench before Deacon tugged the reins and Presley began trotting at a brisk pace. “Geez, Deek! Let me get in the cart, will you?”
He brushed his thinning sandy hair back from his forehead. “You’re in! We gotta go. Storms spook ol’ Presley here. If it gets too bad, we won’t make it back to the ranch before she runs off the road to hide.”
Another bolt of lightning flashed, followed seconds later by thunder traveling across the sky. Presley’s head jerked back, jingling the bridle. Deacon gripped the reins and pressed his boots against the footboard. “Almost out of town. Hang tight.”
The cart clunked down the road as townspeople scattered in all directions. Merchants pulled their wares back into their shops. Farmers tightened the canopies over their carts. Some were already starting to ripple and strain at their ties with each gust of wind.
Mothers grabbed their children, tugging at their arms to take cover.
Raven raised her voice to be heard over the bustle. “I’m trying to remember the last time we had a thunderstorm in Brighton.”
“I want to say it was a year ago, right around this time.” Deacon squinted at the clouds, blinking against the sprinkling of early rain. “Rain is pretty common, but storms are rare. They hit hard at the beginning, then settle into a steady downpour. Wouldn’t surprise me if it rained all day.”
She elbowed him. “All that mud makes for a fun day at the ranch!”
He chuckled. “You’re not kidding. If it rains enough, you don’t know what you’re stepping in all day. At least you get to go to classes.”
Raven shivered as her skin pricked with goosebumps from the chilly drizzle. She pulled her shawl over her head, hunching her shoulders. “I think we were supposed to be in the outside classroom today, but it doesn’t look like that will be happening.”
They drove out of town, Presley moving at a good clip. Both passengers hung on tightly, Raven to the bench and Deacon to the reins.
The next bright flash of lightning was paired with another rumble of thunder. They both flinched and Presley reared, lifting her front hooves off the ground.
“Easy! Easy!” Deacon came off the bench, tugging the reins to keep the horse under control.
“Maybe I can calm her down,” Raven said, scanning her memory for a decent spell.
“Uh-uh! No way, no, ma’am!” He stopped and turned to her. “You’ve got class today. I don’t want you spending any of your magic out here. Isaac and I handled this without magic for years. Just trust me. I’ve been working with horses longer than you’ve been alive.”
Raven rolled her eyes and smirked. Whatever you say, Deek.
They drove past the dense woods that ran for miles, hoping the serious rain would hold off until they got back to the ranch.
Crack! Spidery lightning flashed abo
ve, and Presley whinnied loudly. She charged off the road into the ditch, determined to find cover under a nearby stand of trees.
Raven bounced hard on the bench as the cart slipped off the road.
“Son of a…” shouted Deacon.
When they came finally to a stop, Raven crossed her arms and looked at Deacon. “Now can we try magic?”
“No, I’ve got this.” Deacon stood up, the top of his head grazing the branches of the trees they were under. “Horses get skittish. I ain’t done yet.” He jumped off the cart, reins in hand, and walked around to the front of the horse. “Come on. We’re just up the road. Not much farther. You can do it. Sister, trees are not your friend in a lightning storm. We gotta go.”
Walking backward, Deacon guided the horse out of the ditch. Raven shifted left and right on the bench while the wheels moved from the uneven ditch to the gravel road. Deacon continued to walk backward, yanking on the reins to keep Presley from overreacting to each clap of thunder.
“One...two...three! Storm’s almost overhead,” said Deacon, focusing on the horse.
The clouds opened up just as they walked through the wide gate of the Alby Ranch. The sprinkle turned quickly into a downpour, and both ranchers and horse became drenched. Deacon tugged on the reins, jogging next to the horse toward the barn opposite the goat enclosure.
Raven curled her fingers around the bench and the side of the wagon, watching Henry off to the left herding the dwarf goats inside their barn. “Come on, little doelings, move it! Move it!”
Once inside the barn, Deacon tied Presley to a post and put his hands on his hips, water dripping off the end of his nose. “Woooeee! That’s some rain!” He stood just inside the barn, watching the rain fall outside the door and splash into the mud puddles.
Raven grabbed her ponytail and squeezed it, then ran her hands down the length of it and wrung out the water. She shook the excess water off her hands and hopped off the wagon, patting Presley on the head. “Safe and sound now. Thanks for getting us home, Deek. Still, I could have helped.”
