The Rancher's Daughter

by Kyra Halland

  Miss Tennir’s face lit up. “Excuse me, gentlemen, Mrs. Vendine.” She went over to the door. The man took both of her hands in his, and he and Miss Tennir gave each other a delicate peck on the lips.

  That must be Miss Tennir’s intended, the bookkeeper, Lainie guessed. He didn’t look like much; he was thin with a bit of a potbelly and round-shouldered from days spent hunched over his books, and his thinning, light brown hair was combed sideways to cover a bald spot, but his dark blue suit with thin white stripes was as sharp and slick as a new needle. His crisp accent and soft look marked him as someone who had come from Granadaia not long ago.

  “I hope you’re feeling better today, Amis,” Miss Tennir said.

  “I’m quite well, my dear. I have those figures ready for you whenever you want them.”

  “Thank you,” the lady lawyer said. “You’re a sweetheart. First, though, would you mind witnessing this contract along with me and Mr. Stortsden? It will only take a moment.”

  “Certainly, dearest.” The bookkeeper followed Miss Tennir over to the desk.

  “Do I need to affirm to you who everyone is, Mr. Oferdon?” Miss Tennir asked as she sat down again.

  “If you’re willing to vouch for them, my dear, that’s good enough for me.” Mr. Oferdon glanced at the signatures on the two copies of the contract and added his own to them, then left the office with a reminder that Miss Tennir could come across the hall and pick up her account ledgers at any time.

  With the contract properly signed and witnessed, Coltor said, “I thought we would take care of the advance payment at the bank, since it’s a rather large amount of money.”

  Rather large was some kind of understatement. Lainie’s mind still boggled at the amount. She and Silas could live in comfort for several years on a thousand gildings. But Silas replied as casually as if Coltor had suggested they buy a packet of jerky at the mercantile, “Might as well.”

  Miss Tennir saw them to the door and clasped Lainie’s hand as she left. “Good luck, Mrs. Vendine,” she said in a low voice. “Of course, those of us who know about Shayla –” she glanced at the door to Mr. Oferdon’s office, and Lainie guessed that the bookkeeper wasn’t in on the secret “– are quite worried about her.”

  By the timing, Mr. Coltor’s relationship with Shayla’s mother must have happened soon after Miss Tennir went to Granadaia to study law. Lainie wondered if the lady lawyer was jealous or if she wished Shayla was her child. It would be nice if Miss Tennir could be something of a mother to the poor motherless little girl; Lainie had often wished for a stepmother or an aunt or someone like that after her own mother died. “We’ll do our best, ma’am. I’m sure it’ll all turn out fine.”

  Lainie and Silas went with Mr. Coltor and Storts across the street to the Bank of Bentwood Gulch. There, Coltor had a bank clerk count out one thousand gildings in various coin denominations, including four hundred-gilding pieces. Silas and Lainie divided the money into several heavy canvas money pouches that the clerk gave them. They put some of the money in their coat pockets; the rest would be stashed in the safe magical spaces Silas had built into their saddlebags and knapsacks. Then Coltor withdrew the other one thousand to deposit in Miss Tennir’s safe for the balance payment.

  When they left the bank, Storts keeping a lookout with his revolver in hand, Coltor said, “I don’t care what you have to do to get my daughter back. If you have to kill someone, kill them. If you have to come back here for more money, come back and I’ll give you as much as you need, as long as you have proof that you’ve seen my daughter.”

  Whatever else Coltor wasn’t telling them, Lainie thought, he really must want his daughter back.

  “If she can be found, we’ll find her,” Silas replied.

  Chapter 5

  IT HAD BEEN a long time since Silas’s pockets had been so heavy with coin, and the weight of it felt good as he and Lainie headed to the Bentwood Gulch General Mercantile and Clothier. At the store, they spent some of their newfound wealth on new clothes and the badly-needed new boots, all of it ready-made but of good, sturdy quality. They also picked up a new, clean, roomier tent, some extra blankets, a pair of warm fleece-lined sheepskin coats made from the Bentwood Valley’s famous sheep, and enough provisions to last at least three months, including a two-pound sack of dried chickroot, a luxury they hadn’t been able to afford since leaving the Bads. As a treat for Lainie, Silas even bought her a handful of the penny-thriller novels she liked so much. Books had been rare in the remote areas they had been traveling through, and had cost considerably more than the three or four pennies they went for in Bentwood Gulch.

  When their business at the mercantile was done, Silas and Lainie went to the stable where the horses were boarded. Silas ordered new shoes for Abenar and Mala, then, while the farrier did his work, they walked down to the mail depot. On the way, they stopped at the shrine, where they left a gilding piece at each of the gods’ altars and two at the Mender’s along with prayers for success in finding Shayla and restoring her to her father.

  At the mail depot, Lainie bought a piece of paper from the round-faced postmaster and paid for the use of a pen and ink, and wrote a letter to her Pa. Silas watched, hoping that she wasn’t writing anything that was going to make her Pa come after him with a gun to fetch her back home, like that fact that Silas couldn’t put a roof over her head, they had been nearly broke for months, and, oh yeah, the Mage Council had put out an assassination order on him. Silas remembered the promise he had made to Burrett Banfrey the day he took Lainie away from her home, that he would protect her and take good care of her. So far, he hadn’t done a very good job of keeping that promise.

  Finally, his curiosity got the better of him. “What are you telling him?” he asked, trying to sound unconcerned.

  “Mostly about some of the places we’ve been, like the Bads,” Lainie said, “and how we’re trying to find Mrs. Horden and how sad that is, and we’ve been hired to find a missing girl, and we’re doing fine and I’m happy. Oh, and we got to meet Mr. Brin Coltor, and Mr. Coltor thinks well of him. He’ll like that.” She smiled. “Don’t worry, I’m not begging him to come after me and take me home.”

  Was he really that obvious, he wondered, or could she just read his mind?

  She finished the letter, folded and sealed it, and wrote Burrett Banfrey, Double B Ranch, Bitterbush Springs on the front. Delivery to the mail depot at Minton’s General Mercantile in Bitterbush Springs cost nine drinas and seven, and Lainie paid an extra drina for a rider to take the letter out to the ranch so that her Pa would get it right away.

  Their business in town concluded, they collected the horses, packed up their belongings, and headed northeast out of town, towards where the Blueclouds rose up from the valley in a series of evergreen-covered ridges. A broad canyon led up into the mountains near the BC Crown Ranch; Coltor had suggested they start their search there, but hadn’t given them any more information about what to expect or look out for. The storekeeper at the mercantile had proved more talkative when Silas asked him in general terms about relations with the local blueskins. That canyon was a good water source, the storekeeper told them, and cattle sometimes wandered up there and were rounded up by the cowhands without any interference from the A’ayimat. He also said there were rumors lately that the clans in the mountains didn’t get along, but so far there hadn’t been any signs of out-and-out fighting.

  Only a light layer of snow lay on the ground this early in the season, though thickening clouds overhead threatened more, and the ride across the rangeland was easy. Once they were away from the town full of listening ears, Lainie said, “Mr. Coltor and the man at the store said there weren’t any problems with the blueskins. But Mr. Coltor said the stock don’t go up there, and the storekeeper said they do. Maybe the blueskins got tired of cattle wandering up into the canyon and took Shayla to teach the ranchers a lesson.”

  “That wouldn’t explain that wish in the wishcatcher, though,” Silas pointed out.

&n
bsp; Lainie frowned. “Yeah. If it was cattle that was the problem, I’d have put a curse on his herd instead of… that.”

  Silas sifted through the little information they had, trying to put the pieces together into something that made sense. “If there’s trouble between the clans, it might be that one clan took her to provoke Coltor into attacking the other clans.”

  “But that doesn’t explain the wish, either,” Lainie said.

  “You’re right. This is something personal between Coltor and whoever took Shayla. It sure would help if he had told us what it is. I’m not buying it for a copper bit that he doesn’t know.”

  “Whatever it is, it’s just flat-out wrong to bring that poor little girl into it. I sure hope she’s okay. And poor Miss Tennir; she seemed awful worried about her.” Lainie sighed, then went on wistfully, “I wish Mr. Coltor could marry Miss Tennir, and then Shayla would have a mother and a father. Did you notice, his name is Brin and hers is Brinna? It’s almost like they were made for each other.”

  Silas wasn’t sure about that. His and Lainie’s names weren’t alike, and if anyone had ever been made for each other, it was them. “What about Oferdon?” he asked. “If she married Coltor, poor Oferdon would be left out in the cold.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. And, anyhow, I think Mr. Oferdon’s probably nicer than Mr. Coltor.”

  “What makes you think that? He wasn’t in the same room with us for more than about half a minute.”

  “Well, compared to Mr. Coltor, I don’t think she loves him for his looks.”

  Silas laughed. Then, partly to tease her and partly because he was curious, he asked, “So what do you love me for, my good looks or my charming personality? I know it isn’t for my money.”

  “I… well,” she stammered. Then she glanced at his left hip and gave him a wicked grin. “Your big magic gun.”

  She laughed and kneed Mala into a gallop, leaving Silas behind, wondering why in the world she would love him for his gun. Then her real meaning struck him, and he shook his head and laughed at himself. He had deserved that, fishing for praise like that. “Wait up!” he called to her as he pushed Abenar ahead to catch up with her.

  “Race you!” she shouted back.

  Abenar was a good fast horse, and, despite Lainie’s head start, Silas easily passed her and beat her to the mouth of the canyon. She pulled up a moment later, flushed and smiling, brushing stray hair out of her face. The lines and shadows of worry and hardship that had been worn into her face these last months were gone, and Silas’s heart warmed at the sight. He sidled Abenar over next to Mala, pulled Lainie to him, and kissed her, a good, long kiss that left them both breathless.

  Riding at an easy pace to rest the horses, they started up into the canyon. They passed the A’ayimat markers several measures up without drawing any notice, and reached the steeper, narrower upper canyon by dusk. There, they pitched the new tent, and Silas taught Lainie how to build a campfire that would burn hotter than a normal fire, even in the light snow that had started falling. Not wanting to draw the attention of any mages, rogue or hunter or otherwise, they hadn’t done much training since they had come back into more settled country. But here, up in the mountains, surrounded by enough A’ayimat power that Silas could sense it with little effort, their own use of magic wouldn’t stand out.

  After Lainie built the fire, they ate their fill of supper for what seemed like the first time in months. There was bacon and soft bread and cheese and fresh apples, and a pot of chickroot brew, warming and invigorating in the chilly winter evening. When they were done eating, they worked on protective and concealing shields and practiced controlling two spells with different levels of power at the same time, like feeding the fire while setting a keeper charm. Finally, Silas put Lainie through a series of magical attacks and defensive movements, building on the basics he had taught her when they first left Bitterbush Springs.

  He pushed her harder than he had in a long time, and by the time he decided they’d had enough, she was on her hands and knees, drained and sweaty despite the falling snow. He crouched in front of her and pushed back some hair that had come loose from her braid. “How are you?”

  She looked at him, her eyes wild and ravenous. “Hungry.”

  He held his arms out to the side and grinned. “I’m all yours, darlin’.”

  She launched herself at him, nearly knocking him backwards into the snow, and he scooped her up and carried her into the tent.

  * * *

  LATER, AS SILAS lay immobile, his body heavy with the sweet warmth of lovemaking and newly-replenished magic, he thought about trading shifts on watch. But no A’ayimat had appeared yet to challenge their intrusion, and anyhow, in his experience, the A’ayimat didn’t attack people in their sleep. They just watched them through the night and ran them off in the morning.

  As for groviks and other wild animals, Lainie had put enough power into the fire to keep it burning most of the night even in the heavier snowfall that was now coming down. He looked at Lainie lying beside him in the warm blankets, her hair flowing loose and wavy around her face and bare shoulders, and decided they would both do better with a good night’s rest before beginning the hunt for Coltor’s daughter.

  * * *

  THE NEXT MORNING, Silas wasn’t surprised to see an A’ayimat sentry waiting for them at the top of the canyon. He stood there on the mountainside, his dark blue-toned skin blending in with the shadows, watching them impassively with his gold eyes as they rode up the ravine. He was dressed in tunic and pants of animal skins and his long white hair was bound in a myriad of braids. He carried a short, curved sword, a long knife, and a bow and quiver of arrows.

  “You trespass,” he said when they reached him. This seemed to be the standard A’ayimat greeting.

  Silas reined in Abenar and dismounted, and Lainie did the same; the A’ayimat considered it rude to carry out conversations from horseback. “We’re searching for a settler child who was taken by someone from these mountains,” Silas said.

  He wasn’t shielding – no need to spend power hiding his power, up here – and he felt the slight nudge of the man’s magical senses against his. “You – You’re the Grana wizard we’ve heard of,” the sentry said. “The one who knows how to behave in a respectable manner.” His gold eyes shifted to Lainie. “And you must be his wife, the Grana wizard who’s nearly kin to us.”

  “That’s us,” Lainie said. Most settlers would have been terrified to speak to a blueskin, but she spoke calmly and didn’t flinch or look away. A clan of A’ayimat had saved her father’s life in the Great Sky Mountains, and the A’ayimat seemed to accept and respect her as nearly one of their own. Silas decided to let her deal with the sentry.

  “Is it okay if we look for the little girl on your lands?” Lainie went on.

  “We don’t kidnap settler children,” the sentry replied. “What makes you think this child was taken by some of our people?”

  Lainie took the wishcatcher from the side pocket of her knapsack. Even though she had assured Silas that the spell it contained was aimed only at Coltor, Silas couldn’t help backing away from it. “Someone took the little girl from her bed one night and left this.” She gave the wishcatcher to the A’ayimat man.

  The sentry raised his white eyebrows as he studied the wishcatcher. “That’s a nasty wish.”

  “It’s directed at the little girl’s father,” Lainie said. “We don’t know why any of your folk would hate him so much.”

  The A’ayimat man slowly turned the feather-hung pinecone in his hand, his brow furrowed in thought. “This was made by a member of the Aki’imiyat clan,” he finally said. “I’ll take you to where it came from.”

  That was easy… A little too easy. Was the sentry really that willing to help, or was there more to it than that? A trap was the first thing that came to Silas’s mind, though the A’ayimat couldn’t have known he and Lainie would be coming up this way. He went on the lookout for trouble, and knew that Lainie would a
lso be on the alert. “Thank you,” he said to the sentry.

  “I can do nothing else. After all, this is a very serious matter,” the A’ayimat man replied. “I can’t stand by and allow my people to be shamed and disgraced.” He turned and headed into the forest, and Silas and Lainie mounted up and followed him.

  All day, the sentry led them deeper into the mountains, through snow-dusted passes and ravines and over sloping mountainsides. The sentry went on foot, and Silas and Lainie frequently had to dismount to lead the horses over steeper, rockier ground. Riding or walking, they were hard-pressed to keep up with the sure-footed A’ayimat man, who seemed to know exactly where he was going.

  When it got too dark to go on, they made camp for the night. After they ate and pitched the tent, their guide remained sitting up by the fire, seeming not the least bit fatigued or inconvenienced by the cold and the light snowfall. “You sleep, I’ll watch,” he said.

  Silas didn’t trust him on his own all night, so, although they retreated into the tent, he and Lainie took turns keeping an eye out through the flap and listening for trouble. But the night passed uneventfully, and in the morning the A’ayimat man was still where he had been, showing no signs of being cold or sleepy.

  While they were eating breakfast, Lainie offered their guide a cup of hot chickroot brew, but he shook his head. “You drink medicine as a beverage?”

  “Medicine?” Silas asked as he sipped at his own hot cup. He had never heard of chickroot having medicinal properties; the settlers used it as a substitute for expensive Island coffee.

  “It cures lethargy and excessive drowsiness, and also increases manly virility and vigor.”

  Lainie blushed and nearly choked into her cup.

  “That’s good to know,” Silas said. “Not that I need it for that, you understand.” He took another swallow of the rich, warming, sweet-bitter brew and wondered if there might be a market in Granadaia for medicinal chickroot.