The Long Past & Other Stories

by Ginn Hale

  “Certainly. Magic dust could become a readily producible material.” Nathaniel Tucker folded his kerchief closed around the jawbone and slipped it back into his coat pocket. “But that is just one opportunity that the open rift offers us.”

  Grover noticed that a good number of men in sharp suits had moved closer to their group. The low murmur of small talk faded so it seemed like the whole population of the ballroom hushed to hear more of what the Tuckers had to say.

  The stocky banker, Mr. Haim, his scrawny cousin Reverend Dodd and the handsome sheriff, Gordon Lee, all edged up closer. The smells of their cigar smoke and pomade drifted over Grover like too much cologne. Just beyond them Grover glimpsed Mayor Wilder and Lady Astor standing near each other and casting worried glances past him. Lawrence bowed his head, hiding his face as he feigned interest in his watch fob.

  “We would never go so far as to call the opening of these rifts a blessing.” Nathaniel Tucker raised his voice to address the crowd. “Our nation and our allies have suffered too much loss to ever say that.”

  “But we Americans have a history of facing our tragedies and finding opportunity where others see only defeat.” David Tucker glanced to Lady Astor with a sly sort of smile. For an instant the gray-haired woman pinned the Tuckers with so murderous a glower that Grover thought she might hurl her punch glass at one of them. But then, like a trick of the light, her furious expression melted into a bored yawn.

  David Tucker shifted his attention to the sheriff and his companions. “We don’t need to remind you that a surprising number of savage Indian tribes survived this calamity to lay claim to what are now numerous islands along the Inland Sea. And untold hundreds of thousands of slaves have exploited the destruction of our southern homes to insinuate themselves into northern cities where they have passed themselves as free—”

  “We aren’t implying that one or both these groups were behind the opening of the rifts.” Nathaniel cut in like he was taking a stage cue.

  “No one in this country opened the rifts,” George stated with that curt tone he used when he felt anyone at the boarding house needed reminding of the latest scientific fact.

  “Certainly not.” David agreed so lightly that he sounded like he was making a joke. A good number of the men and women surrounding them exchanged the kind of knowing looks that no doubt delighted prosecutors. Taking them in, Grover’s entire body went ice cold and then sickeningly hot as dread and anger welled up in him.

  The Tuckers’ insinuations too easily stirred up those terrible first weeks after the rift opened, when rumors of Arapaho collaborating with abolitionists to destroy settlers and slave plantations had spread like brushfire. In Fort Arvada houses had been burned and families threatened. Grover had been in a couple close scrapes himself and had spent four hungry days with a busted hand and a black eye in a jail cell. But he’d counted himself lucky. Elsewhere people deemed to be rootworkers or shamans had been beaten to death, hung, drowned and burned alive.

  If news hadn’t arrived that rifts had also opened in Europe and China—that they’d likely been summoned by the Chinese Imperial Consort Cixi—the murders might never have stopped.

  Grover sure as hell didn’t like blame being thrown out at him and his again, not even as some sort of bad joke.

  “Please forgive my ignorance, professors.” Cora crossed her arms over her chest, like she did when Toby had earned himself a switching. “But I fail to see any connection between people of color and your discoveries concerning the properties of minerals at the rift.”

  “We weren’t implying a corollary, my dear girl,” Nathaniel responded, though he hardly looked at her. His attention remained focused on the men gathered around him. “Only pointing out that there are social troubles this last remaining rift might help us address. If we are not too hasty in closing the rift we, as a nation, could benefit far beyond simply powering theurgic spells.”

  “Indeed.” David took up the conversation from his brother. “We all know that there have been immense difficulties enforcing the Indian Removal Act since the flood.”

  Grover couldn’t help but raise his brows. Nearly all the old Indian Territories lay half-a-mile under the waves now. The Tuckers weren’t seriously trying to imply that people ought to have attempted to live in the Inland Sea, were they? Grover stole a glance back to Lawrence, half expecting him to assure him it was all a joke. Instead Lawrence just gave a small shake of his head.

  “Several tribes have taken over islands and land along the new coasts and threaten the construction of Mr. Moreau’s railroad and telegraph lines. Without those we have little hope of reuniting our country. Indians can’t be allowed to run wild, burning down bridges and terrorizing work crews,” David said.

  Grover hadn’t heard of any plan to span the Inland Sea with a rail line. Reading the expressions of most the other townsfolk in the room, he knew they hadn’t either. The federal soldiers from the east, however, nodded and scowled as if the project was a familiar and sore subject.

  “But what if,” David Tucker went on in a breezy tone, “we could relocate these savages to lands not already occupied nor of use for development. What if we gifted them with the vast unclaimed territories beyond the rift.”

  Grover stared at the twins, unable to believe he’d understood them correctly. Were the Tuckers really suggesting that refugee Cherokee, Choctaw and Chickasaw be once again uprooted? Did they imagine the Arapaho and Ute who’d repelled Comanche raiders and stood toe-to-toe with dinosaurs would go meekly into the quicksand and jungles inside the rift?

  Not only was that a cruel proposition, but it also struck Grover as likely to start a war that isolated cities like Fort Arvada wouldn’t survive.

  Reverend Dodd’s approving smile at the Tucker brothers assured Grover that not only was exile being suggested, but these men considered it a fine idea indeed. Both Cora and George Cody appeared to feel the same revulsion Grover did at the notion.

  They hadn’t forgotten how Chief Niwot and his people had sheltered refugees displaced by the surging floodwaters. The chief’s sister, MaHom, had nearly died from the strain of holding huge waves back long enough for hundreds of families to reach the high ground in the mountains.

  “But isn’t the land beyond the rift terribly wild? Not fit for human survival?” George looked to Grover. Nathaniel Tucker answered before Grover could offer a word to describe the humid, reeking swamps and dark, insect-infested fern jungles that lay beyond the jagged stone of the rift’s opening.

  “A savage land for proudly savage peoples, I’d say,” Nathaniel replied. “Haven’t some of their braves already accommodated themselves to hunting dinosaur herds?”

  “They have. And they aren’t the only wild things to have profited from this disaster.” Sheriff Lee cast a long look in Grover’s direction. “Certain black buzzards are having a right time in all this human misery.”

  That tore it! He’d already been on edge, but now his outrage blazed into fury. Grover balled his hands into fists. He was gonna knock that smirk right off the sheriff’s face.

  But as he turned towards the sheriff, a warm sensation rolled up his spine. His legs went sluggish and heavy; his arms felt soft as honey. He sagged, just slightly. In an instant he recognized the heat of Lawrence’s left hand pressed against his back. The spell wasn’t even as strong as the ones Lawrence used to toss at him when they’d wrestled as boys—Grover could have shaken it off—but it gave him pause.

  This wasn’t the time or place to cross the law. As good as it might feel to punch Sheriff Lee to the ground, Grover wasn’t ready to give up his home and live the rest of his life on the run for that brief exhilaration. It wouldn’t go one drop to proving himself a better man than Sheriff Lee either. If anything, laying the sheriff out during a dance would only make him look like the animal Lee implied he was.

  Still, Grover shrugged off Lawrence’s hot fingers. If he
was so damn worried, Lawrence might put in a word to counter the Tuckers. But he remained silent, his gaze downcast. Used to be, he’d shout down a hurricane if he didn’t like the way it blew. Now he’d gone so quiet he could have been a shadow at Grover’s back.

  “Of course, this is all merely speculation,” David Tucker went on, as if the comment hadn’t been made, though he did turn his attention to Grover, offering him the sort of thin-lipped smile only a rattlesnake would find reassuring. “We have yet to observe the rift ourselves, but if the area is indeed rich with alchemic minerals then we will certainly have to consider the difficulty in mining the lands, particularly since they are populated by so many dangerous creatures.”

  Concerned murmurs spread through the room, and unsurprisingly more people gathered around the Tuckers and turned their attention to Grover. Of all of them, only he had crossed the rift. Normally, Grover took pride in that, but noting the Tucker brothers’ speculative expressions and Lady Astor’s dour gaze, he felt like he’d just set his foot down in a snare. Any moment the slipknot would pull tight.

  “That’s where the strong backs and brute characters of so many of the Negroes currently overrunning our cities could be put to great use,” Nathaniel Tucker said. “If any people can thrive in such a brutish landscape, it would certainly be hearty Negroes like Mr. Ahigbe.”

  Grover didn’t knock the grinning twins’ heads together, but it took some will to suppress the urge.

  “You two think folks with half the sense God gave a flea are gonna haul themselves through wild country and across the Inland Sea to work a federal mine for government wages?” Grover demanded, because it almost sounded to him like the bastard Tuckers had forgotten about universal emancipation passing in the senate and thought they could just ship Black folk out like cattle.

  “Well…” David gave a shrug while his brother Nathaniel smiled. “The Proclamation of Emancipation hasn’t cleared the House yet. The representatives are awaiting our report from the Office of Theurgy and Magicum. So, procuring a workforce may not prove as difficult as you presume, Mr. Ahigbe.”

  Grover’s face flushed hot with anger, and for an instant his right hand dropped to his sidearm but he caught himself.

  Beside him, Cora stared at the Tuckers in horror and George made a face like he’d discovered a slug in his punch glass. Mayor Wilder paled when Grover met his gaze. But those repulsed and sorrowful reactions weren’t reflected by even half the folks gathered around. Some simply continued dancing and laughing—utterly unaware—while others wore sly, smug smiles like poker players with all four aces in hand.

  “That’s just…shameful!” Cora sounded almost too angry to speak. “I’ve never in my life—”

  “It isn’t as though free men like Mr. Ahigbe would lose their liberty. So long as they aren’t criminals and have their papers, free Negroes would remain so,” Nathaniel Tucker responded. “Not that there wouldn’t be positions available to them. In point of fact right now Mr. Ahigbe stands to make a pretty penny.”

  Grover turned away, because if he stayed even a moment more he was going to knock those white teeth right out of the Tucker brothers’ mouths. And then he’d keep pounding the sons-of-bitches till they didn’t move anymore. As much as he hated them, he knew they weren’t worth hanging for.

  He headed for the kitchen door, ignoring the Tuckers’ sudden protests. One of them called an offer for his services as a guide. Incredulity nearly did stop Grover then. Did they really imagine that any amount of money would convince him to help them? After everything they’d said, could they imagine any person of color wishing for anything but to see them dead?

  “I’ll talk to him.” Lawrence’s voice drifted from behind him, but Grover didn’t look back.

  Betty wasn’t too pleased to be woke in the dark of night. When Grover called her name, she lifted her head from the heap of hay where she’d bedded down. Through the deep gloom, Grover recognized the shine of her eyes. After a couple chirps she plopped her head right back down.

  “Damn it, Betty.”

  “Grove, wait.” Lawrence paused at the stable door. The faint glow of light from the house outlined his gaunt form.

  “Hell no,” Grover snapped. He glared at Betty. “C’mon you. We’re leaving.”

  Betty pushed her head farther beneath her feathered arm, pretending not to hear him. Lawrence closed in behind him.

  “Grove.” Lawrence’s left hand lighted upon Grover’s shoulder.

  “Don’t.” He knocked Lawrence’s hand away hard. “I ain’t in the mood to hear anything you or those sons-of-bitches have to say.”

  Lawrence stepped back. Grover stomped into the horse stall and frowned at Betty while she feigned sleep. He glowered over his shoulder to the far wall where his saddle and tack faded into darkness. He needed a lamp. If he’d had any sense, he would have brought one from the kitchen, but he was in no temper to go back and ask anyone for anything.

  Lawrence cupped his hand to his mouth like he was warming it with his breath, but then he spread his fingers and small orbs of gold light drifted from his lips like he was blowing luminous soap bubbles. They rose and drifted through the stable, throwing a soft golden glow across the weathered wood and bales of alfalfa.

  Betty, as well as several horses, took note. Though the horses, being shy creatures, pricked up their ears and went tense. Betty hopped up and snapped after one of the filmy lights like she thought it was a spicy firefly.

  “She gonna get sick if she eats one of those things?” Grover heard the surliness in his voice but couldn’t help it. He felt too angry to offer thanks. He hadn’t asked for this. If Lawrence hadn’t been here, he would have worked his own way through the gloom. He hadn’t needed Lawrence’s help for eight years now.

  Lawrence met his glare (he looked so damn tired) but didn’t say a word.

  It wasn’t like him to keep so quiet, Grover thought, but reminded himself that he had no idea what Lawrence was like anymore. If he’d changed so greatly that he could support the Tuckers’ plans, the man Grover had known might as well have died six years ago. Grover would almost have preferred that than to think Lawrence had so completely betrayed the ideals he’d once shared with Grover.

  The notion cut deep, pricking at old resentments far down in Grover’s core—remnants of his earliest sense of the injustice in the different circumstances of their lives. He’d always had to work twice as hard for anyone to think him even half as good as Lawrence.

  But it didn’t do any good to dwell on how Lawrence had been rich and white and able to command the magic of the earth while Grover had been forced into the role of a servant just because of the color of his skin. He was grown now and had to put away childish tantrums about the unfairness of the world. Moaning and railing didn’t change nothing.

  Deeds, not words, showed the true worth of a man.

  Grover knew he was better than the Tuckers, better even than this stranger who’d come home answering to Lawrence’s name. They and Lawrence could go to Hell if they thought he’d aid them in any way. Not for money or even long-lost love.

  Though Grover reckoned his refusal would require exiting Fort Arvada right away before they realized they couldn’t buy him. Because as soon as they did, he didn’t doubt the Tuckers would find a reason that Grover should lose his liberty—with Sheriff Lee on their side it wouldn’t take long to fit him up as an outlaw—and decide that Grover would work for them whether he wanted to or not.

  No, he’d go up the mountain. And if they followed him…

  Well, there were a lot of ways men—even trained soldiers and mages—could disappear. Especially near the rift.

  Feeling better for having a plan, Grover fetched his saddle, bags and lead.

  When he turned back he discovered Betty standing up and extending her long neck over the stall door for Lawrence to stroke her beak. Very slowly Lawrence lifted his ivory and g
old right hand and held it out for Betty to inspect. Betty gave the hinged plates of the palm her owl-eyed look but then went ahead and ran her beak across the ivory fingers.

  The relief in Lawrence’s expression was so easy to read that Grover felt a pang of deep sympathy. It took a heap of rejection to make a man look that thankful for the acceptance of a critter like Betty. The thought tempered a little of Grover’s rage but not enough to let him forget all that the Tuckers had said. Or Lawrence’s silence in the wake of their suggestions.

  “You might as well go back to the dance.” Grover walked past him and into the stall. He threaded the leather lead under Betty’s arms and buckled it across her back. “I’m not helping you to find the rift. I don’t care if you offer to make me king of California.”

  “That’s not why I followed you out here.”

  “Why, then?” Grover turned on him. “Cause if it’s for my rollicking company, I’ve got to warn you I’m in something of a foul temper.”

  Lawrence simply nodded and Grover scowled at him.

  “God’s sake, Lawrence, can’t you damn well say anything? Did you lose your tongue as well as your arm?” Grover regretted his words the moment they escaped his mouth. And seeing the brief flicker of pain in Lawrence’s expression, he realized how low a blow he’d dealt the other man.

  “I didn’t mean—” Grover began, but Lawrence cut him off.

  “That doesn’t matter,” he said. “What’s important is that you understand how necessary it is for me to get to the rift before the Tuckers.”

  Grove paused with Betty’s saddle in his arms.

  “What do you mean?” Grover asked. “You work with them. You ain’t thinking you can undercut the feds and stake a private claim like your granddaddy did, are you?”

  “No.” Lawrence stole a glance back over his shoulder to the stable door then lowered his voice. “I told you. I’m working to close the rifts. That’s why I must reach the last one before they do. But I need your help to get there.”