“A favor? Is that what you’re doing? Granting me a favor?”
“It isn’t intended to be a punishment.” The old man took his seat again, picking up a pen to sign off on the paperwork in his neat penmanship. “How you choose to see it is up to you.”
Even now, months later, Caleb winced at the memory. On Chief Sheffield’s advice, he’d been trying to see it as a good thing, ever since he got off the stage at his first stop. But there were times when it was difficult. He kept telling himself that anything was better than being scoured, even the remedial abilities he’d been left with after Cold Harbor. He was still stronger than most men he’d meet on a daily basis out here in the back end of nowhere. “Except Abel Warner.”
“Hmm? What was that?”
“Nothing, Ernst. Nap a bit. I’m going to take the slow way back to town.” He flipped the catch on the accelerator lever and let the hauler lumber mindlessly in its current direction.
It was tempting to keep riding, leave Hope behind, hit the next town on his circuit. If he hadn’t been on a rented mount, if his trunk hadn’t been back in Hope, he might have done just that. Deep down, he knew that even then he wouldn’t have, but he might have entertained the thought a little longer. You’re too damn honorable for your own good, Caleb.
With the hauler plodding along at its slowest pace, the sun was well past its zenith when Caleb happened to spot a familiar figure perched on a rock alongside the trail of flattened prairie grass. He brought his mount to a halt and couldn’t help but smile as he looked down at Jimmy Welton. “Now, what in the world are you doing clear out here?”
The boy shrugged, banging his heels on the boulder he was sitting on. “Nothin’.”
“Nothing, hmm? You weren’t trying to follow that posse, were you?”
Jimmy snorted. “If I was tryin’ to follow them, I’da been home already. They passed this way hours ago.” He scratched idly at a scab on his elbow. “Why wasn’ you with them?”
Inwardly, Caleb chuckled. The boy had been worried about him, obviously. “Just decided to ride back on my own. You want a ride back to town? I don’t know about you, but I’m about dying of thirst.”
Jimmy made a show of thinking about it, then nodded and stood up on the boulder, allowing Caleb to maneuver the hauler close so he could scramble aboard. “Hey, Ernst.”
“Hey, Jimmy.” As broad as the transport was, there was more than enough room for the jackalope and boy. Jimmy sat cross-legged on the hauler’s rump, and Ernst happily crawled into his lap, purring and sparking.
Caleb nudged the hauler into motion again, setting it at a smooth gait so it wouldn’t dislodge the duo on the back. “So I hear you’re taking lessons with Miss Sinclair, Jimmy.”
“Mmph. When I feel like it.”
“And how’s that going?”
“She’s real nice, I guess. Not sure about this stuff she’s tryin’ ta teach me, though.”
“Oh?” Caleb turned in the saddle to look at Jimmy. “Like what?”
“Like these words she keeps wanting me to say. ‘Fire.’ ‘Wind.’ ‘Spark.’” He snorted. “Never needed anything like that.”
Caleb chuckled. “You won’t need to say them forever, Jimmy. It’s just a way to get your mind to focus on what it needs to do. You say ‘fire,’ and your mind goes through the steps to make fire appear. When that becomes second nature, you’ll only have to think it, and your mind will respond.” Well, usually anyway.
“I just feel stupid saying stuff like that.”
Caleb grinned a little. “You know you don’t have to use normal words, right?”
“Hunh?” Jimmy narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “How do you mean?”
“I mean, if you wanted your word for fire to be ‘sarsaparilla,’ you could do that. Just so long as when you say ‘sarsaparilla,’ you think about making fire. Sometimes, using foolish words can make it a bit less boring.”
“You can?” He looked thoughtful. “So . . . what if I wanted to make it a different word? Like . . . ‘dammit’?”
“I’m guessing that won’t go over so well with Miss Sinclair. And if you do it, don’t you dare tell her I told you to.” Jimmy flashed him a wicked grin, and Caleb turned back to the front, chuckling.
For the rest of the ride, he could hear the boy murmuring soft words to Ernst, the pair of them deciding just what the proper command words should be for Jimmy’s next lesson.
The town was bustling as they rode in, or at least as bustling as Caleb had ever seen it. Some of the people called greetings to him. Most did not. It was almost certain that the men from the posse had already related the tale of his perceived betrayal.
“Agent Marcus! Agent Marcus, a moment, please?”
Caleb turned around in his saddle to find a distinguished looking man trotting down the dusty street after him.
“Dr. Elm, yes?” Hector had pointed the town physician out the night before. “How can I help you?” With his back turned, Caleb almost missed Jimmy sliding down the other side of the hauler and making quick tracks into a nearby alley. The sight of the nimble urchin retreating made him chuckle. No doubt the good doctor had tried to corral Jimmy, too, in the past.
The wiry doctor frowned, pushing his spectacles back up on his nose as he craned his neck to look up at the mounted man. “Would you be willing to come look at one of the children with me? I would like the opinion of a person with more talent.”
Caleb exchanged a glance with Ernst, seeing that the jackalope was just as mystified as his human counterpart. “I don’t have any medical training, Doctor, but if you think there is something I could help with . . . Let me leave my transport at the saloon, and I’ll come to your office.”
“Thank you, sir.” The immense relief in the doctor’s voice made Caleb frown. What in the world would a doctor need to consult with a Peacemaker on?
A few minutes later, Caleb found out.
The little girl sat on the examining table, hands clasped tightly in her lap. She couldn’t have been more than eight, old enough to be displaying talent and learning how to control her budding abilities.
“She was learning real good; she got the fire starting real easy and wasn’t having any problems controlling it.” The mother was nearly in tears as she tried to explain again to Caleb and Dr. Elm what had gone wrong. “Then she just . . . stopped. I didn’t think she was using enough to get scoured, or I’d have stopped her. And now . . .” Her words were lost beneath choked tears.
The good doctor put an arm around the sobbing woman’s shoulders. “I’m sure it was nothing you did wrong, Sarah. I’m going to have the Peacemaker and his familiar look at her, all right? Maybe they can see something that I can’t.”
Ernst didn’t wait for an invitation. He hopped onto the table and cuddled into the child’s lap, starting up his little chirping purr. The little girl hugged him so tightly it was a wonder he could still breathe.
Caleb watched his familiar, but also expanded his senses to envelop the child, relaxing until he could see with his power, not his eyes.
Everyone in the room glimmered with their innate power. Dr. Elm was stronger than Caleb might have guessed, but it was to be expected of one in the medical profession. The mother, Sarah Emerson, had mediocre talent, but it was at least there. Ernst glowed like a beacon, nearly blinding in his brightness. Caleb shone as well, with light pulsing along the now-visible veins in his hands with every heartbeat.
Everyone glimmered, that is, but the girl. Little Emily Emerson was matte against a world gone glossy. Where Ernst touched her skin, the familiar’s power tried to trickle into her, tiny threads reaching, searching, but fading out before they’d gotten centimeters into her body. Ernst continued to do his own brand of examination, but for all that Caleb could see, the girl was powerless and always had been. Barren.
The mother was watching him closely, and he was care
ful to keep his face neutral, his eyes on Ernst. Maybe, just maybe, the jackalope could sense something he could not.
Ernst was silent, save for his purring, for long, tense moments, and when he spoke, he did not even open his eyes. “She is not scoured.”
Sarah burst into more tears, and no one could speak again until Dr. Elm had calmed her.
“Then what’s wrong with her?”
“I think she’s been exposed to nullstone.” Ernst raised his head and nuzzled the child’s cheek, carefully avoiding her with his antlers. “It seems pervasive. In her skin, rather than on it. If she is exposed to no more, it should work its way out of her system, and she may recover completely. Or . . . she may never be able to touch her power again.”
“They said it was in the water, but I didn’t believe them. We get our water from the town well, like everybody. . . .” Sarah pressed both her hands to her mouth to stifle more sobs.
“Sarah, if it was in the water, we’d all be losing our talents.” Dr. Elm’s voice was confident, but he cast a glance at Caleb for confirmation.
“Dr. Elm is right. I don’t think it can be the communal water supply.” He patted little Emily on the head, and she gave him a shy smile. “And I don’t think it can be the water at Warner’s place, either, else he and his men would be showing signs.”
No, it couldn’t be the water, but what else could be out there? Caleb didn’t have a good grasp on how much land Warner actually claimed, but if there was a nullstone deposit somewhere there? Perhaps if the recent earthquakes had brought a vein to the surface?
The doctor frowned in thought. “Something that only the children get into, then?”
“How many children are affected like this, Doctor?”
He thought for a moment. “I’ve only seen four, but there are at least seven more. No one wants to admit their child is barren, so they don’t bring them in to see me.”
Caleb crouched down so he had to look up to see little Emily. “Sweetheart, can you tell me any places that all of you like to go play? Maybe secret places the grown-ups don’t know about? Especially around Mr. Warner’s house?”
The child shook her head, biting her lower lip, and Ernst redoubled his purring efforts. Sarah came to sit next to her little girl, stroking her hair gently. “It’s all right, Emily. No one is going to get in trouble. We just want to make sure no one else is going to get sick.”
After a few more moments of squeezing the stuffing out of the purring jackalope, the child finally offered, “We don’t get to play at Mr. Warner’s. The schoolmaster doesn’t allow it. But there are a few other places that we go. It’s hard to tell you, but I could draw a picture.”
Caleb smiled and nodded encouragingly. “If I found a map of the area, do you think you could show me on there?”
“Maybe.”
The doctor was already out the door in search of a map.
Chapter 6
By the time a suitable map could be found and Emily Emerson drew her notes and instructions on it in painstakingly careful print, the afternoon was waning, and there would be no time to ride out into the grassland to investigate. Grudgingly, Caleb planned his excursion for the next day.
He spent the evening at the bar, poring over the piece of paper with Hector and Teddy, trying to figure out which of the locations was most likely to pose a hazard.
“Almost all of these are right here around the town. If there was nullstone there, we’d hae noticed.”
Caleb nodded his agreement with the Scottish bartender. “I was thinking of exploring these two here”—he pointed at two locations between the town and Warner’s ranch—“since they pass by those every day on their way to school. After that, I’ll head north.” And if that search proved fruitless, the next course would be to search Warner’s place. He didn’t see that going over well with the rancher. “How often do you really think they pack up and ride out this far?”
“Durin’ the summer, probably near ta once a week or more. Whole gang of them go oot there, with the older ones keepin’ watch. They take picnics.”
The northernmost point was very near to where they’d encountered the hungry Indian family, as close as Caleb could guess. Was that a coincidence? If the Indian boy’s magical strength was any indication, there was nothing out there to harm anyone. “Can you pack me some food for the road tomorrow, Teddy? I don’t know how long I’ll be out.”
“O’ course. And some whiskey for yer wee friend.” Ernst favored him with an ecstatic purr.
None of Warner’s men had returned to town after the posse that morning, but Caleb watched the regulars anyway and kept his voice down. “No one needs to know that I’ve gone poking around. I don’t know how some folks would take that.”
Hector and Teddy both nodded, the shop keeper adding, “Sure enough, we don’t know a thing.”
“Thank you both for all your help. I’m not the most popular fellow in the county right now, and I know you’re risking some ill will with your neighbors by helping me.”
“The way I see it is this, Agent Marcus,” said Hector. “Most folks are decent. Just sometimes, someone shouts a bit louder, and they all forget what’s right. Deep down, they know, and they’ll act right when it really matters.” He nodded his head on his tall, thin neck.
Teddy was a bit less philosophical. “And Warner’s a horse’s ass. Murderin’ women and children, when everybody knew they couldnae hae been the ones what raided that homestead. I dinnae mind makin’ the reds pay for what they’re doin’, but ye cannae tell me that family did anythin’.” His face was red beneath his beard by the time he’d finished, his accent almost thick enough to be unintelligible. “What kinda monster kills children?”
“More whiskey, please.” Ernst sat up on his hind legs, his front paws pressed primly to his chest.
Successfully diverted from what was sure to be an angry rant, the barkeep hurried to serve his new favorite customer. “Here ye go, a dram before bedtime.” He poured a shot of alcohol into the shallow dish, and Ernst set to lapping it up eagerly. “Never seen a creature like his whiskey so much. Except my old grandda.”
Caleb smiled fondly at his familiar. “I smoke; he drinks. On the whole, we’re quite the pair of reprobates.”
Hector leaned down to peer closely at Ernst. “Does he actually get drunk?” The jackalope looked up, licking drops of whiskey from his whiskers with his tiny pink tongue, and Hector sat up so fast he nearly toppled from his stool.
“A gentleman is never drunk,” Ernst stated stiffly, which was followed by a miniature belch that completely ruined the effect.
“Speaking of bedtime . . .” Caleb gathered his staff and his hat. “If we’re going to spend tomorrow riding that god-awful thing around the county, I should get some sleep. You coming, Ernst?”
The creature eyed the bottles of whiskey behind Teddy’s bar thoughtfully. “I’ll be along presently. You go on.”
Caleb rolled his eyes. “You’d better start charging him, Teddy, or he’ll drink you out of house and home.”
The room was stuffy and hot, and opening the window did nothing but let in the night-flying insects and dust. Still, Caleb made the attempt, lying on top of the quilt in a vain attempt to get cool. He did his best to get comfortable, laying one arm up over his head, pounding the hard pillow a dozen times to try to get it just right. It was a lost cause, and he finally just lay in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. On the table next to him, his pocket watch softly ticked off the minutes, dragging on into hours.
He didn’t expect to sleep well, if at all, so when the dreams began, he was genuinely surprised even in his semiconscious state.
The air scorched his lungs as he breathed in, and, he slapped at the burning cinders that had fallen into his hair, his hat long since lost in the chaos. The soothing blue glow of the streetlamps had given way to the ominous red haze, until it appeared that the clo
uds above them in the night sky were smoldering.
“Here! There are more in here!” Ernst appeared around his feet, the familiar taking the form of a nimble black cat, nudging him toward the location of more trapped residents. Caleb found his path blocked and put his shoulder against the charred beam, trying to heave it out of the way.
Rufus appeared out of the smoke, coughing and hacking, but between the two men, they cleared the doorway. Inside, voices were calling for help, screaming out in terror. “I’ll get them. You clear me a path.”
Caleb nodded and reached for the fire all around them. It lurked in the ceilings of the building they were in, curling hungry tendrils around the floorboards under their feet. He could feel it, angry and seeking, and he grabbed hold, pulling all of that destructive energy into himself. It railed inside him, imprisoned in a form it was not meant to take. Another day, well rested, he might have been able to feed that extra power out through his familiar, but that much control had been lost sometime in the previous hours, and so he would hold it himself. A moment’s lapse in concentration, and it would find a way out. His skin would curl and burn from the inside. He’d just seen it happen to two other Peacemakers.
“Smeul,” he whispered. Smolder. The walls around them snuffed out suddenly, wisps of smoke replacing tongues of flame. “Hurry, Rufus. It’s getting stronger.”
The other Peacemaker bolted into the dark hallway, charred floorboards creaking ominously under his boots. Caleb could feel the power behind the fire looking for him, furious that something had stolen its energy. He would be able to hold on only so long.
“Go, go, go!” Rufus herded a soot-blackened family past him, carrying the youngest child in his arms. “Give us thirty seconds, Caleb, then get the hell out!”
He tried to count to thirty, but the flame inside him would not let his mind find the numbers. It was hungry, it was angry, and it wanted to be free. Ernst was butting his furry head against his knee, urging him to let go. Finally, he was forced to release it, and he could only pray that Rufus had gotten the family clear.
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