“True enough.” Robert fell silent for a moment, clearly deciding what he should say next. Danica waited as patiently as she could, but she really wished he would just spit it out. Then he seemed to straighten in his cramped seat, clasping his hands on the desk in front of him. They were good, strong-looking hands, still lightly tanned. He wore a gold ring with a carved sapphire on the pinky of one hand, but there was no sign of a wedding band, not even a paler border of skin at the base of his ring finger. It was silly to be looking for it, but….
After a long pause, he continued, “In the case of the Wilcoxes, however, they did not leave Connecticut of their own volition. No, stories had been circulating for several years, ever since Jeremiah Wilcox and his brothers and sisters broke away from their parent clan, and Jeremiah began calling himself the primus, after an old tradition that all the other clans had long since abandoned. But in the beginning, Jeremiah didn’t appear to be doing anything much out of the ordinary, and so the neighboring clans saw no reason to interfere.”
“But you did interfere at some point?” Danica asked. Of course she already knew the answer to that question, since it was ancient family history, but she really wanted to know what sort of spin Robert would put on the story of the New England clans driving the Wilcoxes out of the area.
Even though she’d kept her tone neutral — or thought she had — Robert frowned, as if detecting a hidden rebuke. “We did have to intervene, but I assure you, it was only as a last resort, Miss Prewitt.”
“Eliza,” she said. All this formality was beginning to wear on her nerves. She knew she didn’t dare give him her real name, but at least they could dispense with the “Miss” this and “Mister” that. “Please.”
He looked startled, but then nodded. “If you wish…Eliza. Then of course you may call me Robert. I suppose it is just as well that we’re on a first-name basis, since we are sharing confidences with one another.”
Well, not exactly. He might be about to confide in her, but Danica knew she didn’t dare tell him the truth about who she really was, or where — when — she’d really come from. But she smiled, and he seemed to take that as a signal to continue.
“Stories began to circulate, stories of strange spells and even stranger occurrences. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you, Eliza, that the survival of all our kind depends on secrecy, on keeping our true natures hidden from the rest of the world. If one of us grows careless, drunk with power, then he puts all of us at risk, not merely the members of his own clan.”
Danica nodded. She couldn’t really argue with that statement. It was the one rule all the clans followed, no matter what else they might believe.
“As I told you, Jeremiah and his immediate family were part of a larger clan, the Winfields. After his father passed away, Jeremiah declared himself primus, and he and his family moved to a new town some distance away from Winfield territory. Everyone kept watch on them, but at first nothing seemed to be that untoward about their behavior.”
“But then?” Danica asked. This was the first she had heard of anything about the Wilcoxes breaking off from another, larger witch clan. True, all the family stories seemed to be horribly vague about exactly what had happened before Jeremiah and his immediate kin were driven out of Connecticut. She’d always assumed that was because the records had been lost. Now it sounded more as if Jeremiah had purposely made sure that information was buried.
“Then the stories began,” Robert replied, looking grim. “Of disturbances like storms from nowhere, and the ground shaking, and strange lights in the woods outside the town where the Wilcoxes had settled. This aroused the concern of the Winfield elders, and they went to speak with Jeremiah. As you can imagine, that conversation did not go well.”
“What happened?”
“He told them it was none of their business, that they were trespassing on his clan’s territory, and to leave and never bother him again. The elders replied that it was their business, if whatever magic he and his clan were dabbling in awoke the suspicions of the non-magical folk in the area. And then Jeremiah and his brothers cast some sort of spell that was like a raging wind no one could withstand, blowing the Winfield elders right out of town and dumping them in an open field almost a mile away.” Robert’s mouth compressed. “The thing is, my mother is a Winfield, and it was her father who was injured in that assault. Only the skills of the Winfield clan’s healer kept him from succumbing to those wounds.”
So this was personal, at least on a certain level. That only made matters worse, but she could see why Robert would have reason to think ill of Jeremiah Wilcox.
As for the rest…well, the family stories had always spoken of how powerful Jeremiah was, but obviously Danica hadn’t yet had the opportunity to see any of those powers firsthand. And after hearing what Robert had just told her, she didn’t think she wanted to.
“And so your people came back in force,” she said.
“Yes. It was clear that the New England witch clans couldn’t allow someone so powerful, and with such a disregard for their laws, to remain in the area. The elders of the clans from Massachusetts, Connecticut, and New York all converged on Killingworth, which was where the Wilcoxes had settled. Even as strong as Jeremiah and his brothers were, they couldn’t hope to prevail against the combined powers of more than twenty elders. They were defeated, and given enough time to pack what belongings they could, and take their wives — or, in Emma Garnett’s case, her husband — with them. Of course the family had far fewer children at that time. Emma’s and Samuel’s eldest were only babies, and neither Jeremiah nor his other two brothers had any children yet.”
A lot of fun that must have been — having to pack up your whole life and haul a couple of infants most of the way across the country in a covered wagon or whatever. No, that didn’t sound exactly right. Danica had always gotten the impression that the Wilcoxes had taken a train as far west as they could, then bought provisions and whatever else they needed in New Mexico before heading into Arizona Territory. She had the vague impression that Emma Wilcox had offered help to the prima in Santa Fe, healing her ailing son, and that was why the Wilcoxes had a good relationship with the Castillo clan in New Mexico, when otherwise they had been isolated from the rest of the witch clans.
It was also on that trip that Jeremiah’s first wife had passed away. The family had no real details on her death, except that it had happened on the road between Santa Fe and Flagstaff. Neither was there any real information as to why Emma Garnett hadn’t been able to heal her, but witches with healing powers weren’t infallible. Some diseases had no cure, magical or otherwise.
“But….” Danica began slowly, thinking over what Robert had just told her. “You got rid of them. They haven’t bothered anyone in Flagstaff, as far as I can tell. Really, from what I’ve heard other people say about the Wilcoxes, it sounds as if they’re model citizens. So why come all the way out here to ‘observe’ them?”
Apparently, Robert had had enough of his cramped seat, because he eased himself out of it and stood, then came over to lean against the side of her desk. She was still safely tucked behind it, but that didn’t change the way he seemed to tower over her. If she got up and stood as well, she’d look far too obvious, so she remained where she was, hoping he couldn’t detect the way her heart had begun to beat a little faster as soon as he got near.
“Because we had to make sure they hadn’t gone back to their old ways. We listen, Eliza. Rumors come to us — slowly, when they have to travel all the way from Arizona Territory, but we do hear them. So we knew that the Wilcoxes eventually settled here…and we also know that the family seems to have suspiciously good luck in everything it does, whether ranching, or mining, or selling timber to the local sawmill.”
Suspiciously good luck was the hallmark of the Wilcox clan. Danica didn’t bother to deny Robert’s claim on that subject, because she knew it was only the truth. Whether that famous luck had attracted too much attention…that was the real question. She
hadn’t really heard any conversation on the topic since she’d come here, but she’d be the first to admit that she hadn’t been offered much opportunity to get out and mingle. At the time, posing as the town’s new schoolteacher seemed like the best cover story she could come up with. However, she was learning the hard way that her assumed role took up a large chunk of her days.
Robert, on the other hand, had no real occupation to fill his time, and his guise as a prospective landowner gave him the chances he needed to speak to the locals, to range around the area and get the lay of the land, so to speak.
Maybe she should have posed as a saloon girl after all. She probably would have heard more gossip that way.
“Perhaps they really are that lucky,” she ventured, earning herself a tilted eyebrow and a highly ironic look.
“It’s much more likely that they’re making their own luck,” Robert said. “We heard rumors of such a power back in New England, but the Wilcoxes’ darker experiments were of more immediate concern. Now, though, they once again run the risk of making themselves far too conspicuous.”
“And if people begin to ask questions?”
“Then we’ll have to consider what to do next. If the Wilcoxes were the only witch clan here in Arizona, it might be one thing, but the McAllisters are not all that far away, down in the mining town of Jerome. They are a small clan, and don’t have the means to withstand any real scrutiny if people really start asking questions about newcomers who exhibit unusual behavior.”
Danica hadn’t even considered that aspect of the problem. The de la Pazes were far away in the south of the state, and big and established enough that any blowback from a witch-related scandal up in Flagstaff probably wouldn’t affect them too much, but the McAllisters hadn’t been in Jerome much longer than the Wilcoxes had been settled in Flagstaff. Or at least, that was what she recalled. McAllister history had never interested her all that much.
But because Robert was worried about the McAllisters, that meant their fate could be an issue here as well.
“What do you plan to do?” she asked, not sure whether he’d really tell her the truth or not. After all, he seemed worried by Jeremiah’s interest in her, and where that might lead. She wasn’t about to flatter herself that Robert Rowe disliked the connection because he himself was attracted to her. Throughout this entire conversation, he’d sounded cool and dispassionate, talking to her more like a business associate. In a way, that was gratifying; at least he had the decency to speak to her as an equal. But she also wouldn’t have minded just a bit of heat in those baby blues of his.
“At the moment, as I said, I’m observing.” He hesitated, then pushed himself away from the desk and went to the window. The warm afternoon light cast his fine profile into sharp relief, like a cameo of a Roman god Danica had seen at the antique store when she was shopping for period-appropriate jewelry. “My talent isn’t merely hiding my own witch-born nature. I can also sense when another witch or warlock is using their gift.”
“You can?” For some reason, his admission alarmed her. Could he tell that her own very strange temporal ability was currently working overtime to keep her anchored here in his own present?
“Yes. I’ve felt brief bursts from the Wilcox compound — that is, the five houses they built next to one another over on Park Street. But I know that Emma Garnett is a healer, and with all those children, it’s very likely she uses her gift regularly to heal all their bumps and bruises and fevers, even if she can’t share her healing abilities with the community at large.” His shoulders lifted, and he turned back toward her. “The other bursts of power I’m sensing…I’m not sure. One of the brothers must have the gift for luck — I don’t know which of them it is. Not Jeremiah. His talents are showier than that.”
“Which means he must not have been using any of them,” Danica pointed out. “That is, if he had done anything even half as spectacular as what you described was happening back in Connecticut, people would notice. Of course, I haven’t been here very long, but in that week, I’ve certainly not seen anything out of the ordinary, except perhaps that tremendous rainstorm we had on Wednesday. I don’t believe I ever saw it rain like that back in St. Louis.”
She’d halfway hoped Robert would smile at her remark, but he only shook his head, his expression still far too serious. He said, “And then there’s you, Eliza.”
“Me?” she said, pulse beginning to speed up. In what she hoped was a suitably casual fashion, she added, “I hope you’re not lumping me in with the Wilcoxes.”
“No, it’s not that.” He frowned and took a step toward her, then stopped. “There’s something different about you. As if you’re using your power all the time at a very low level. I’ve never experienced anything like it before.”
Crap. She supposed he would pick up on that, because even if she wasn’t paying it any particular attention, her talent was always working in the background, making sure she stayed here rather than slingshotting back to the present where she belonged.
Since he still watched her with that frown pulling at his brows, she knew she needed to say something to explain the strange phenomenon he was sensing. Only…what?
After casting about wildly for anything that might work, she said, “Very well — I fear you have caught me. My talent is illusions. I actually have red hair, but I thought the dark brown more becoming.”
“You don’t have a redhead’s complexion.”
“That’s because I’m hiding my freckles as well.”
At that reply, he did smile. “Ah, well, I suppose that would take a good deal of ongoing effort.” His expression turned sober again, though, as he added, “You don’t have to tell me, Eliza. If you want to keep your secret, then do so.”
Danica could hear the disappointment in his tone. While it was true that witches and warlocks generally did not discuss their particular talents openly, Robert had told her of his, and it seemed rude not to share hers with him as well. But she couldn’t do that. For one thing, telling him why she was here would mean revealing that she was a Wilcox, and she didn’t know how he would handle such a revelation. Clearly, he wasn’t too keen on the Wilcox clan.
Since she didn’t know how to reply, an awkward silence fell between them. She hated this. It would have been so much easier if he’d just fallen for her at first sight. Then she could have persuaded him to stay away from the Wilcoxes and….
And what? Put him on the next eastbound train, wave goodbye, and walk away?
She realized she hadn’t actually followed this little scheme through to its most logical conclusion. Or maybe she’d hoped the attraction would be mutual, and then once they’d confessed their undying love for each other, she could have told him the truth. After that…lord only knows. She didn’t fancy the idea of having to stay back here in 1884, but could she get him to return to the present with her? How would that even work?
When she’d been researching Flagstaff’s past at the historical society, she hadn’t known Robert’s name. She’d pored over as many old photographs from that year as she could, but she’d never seen him in any of them. It made sense; people weren’t snapping selfies all the livelong day back then the way they were now. But because she hadn’t known who Robert was, she also wasn’t able to track down any information about him. If he truly did end up killed by one of the Wilcox men and buried in the woods, his story would stop there.
His story would stop there.
Danica had never really experienced the sensation of her heart missing a beat, but it did right then. Because he had no future, she could give him hers.
“What is it?” he asked then, taking another step toward her. “Something just lit up your face like the Fourth of July.”
“I — ” Something told her now was not the time to confess all. “I wish I could tell you, Robert. And I think I will…only not today.”
That rather muddled statement only made him shake his head. “I worry about you, Eliza. To be here alone, with no one to watch out fo
r you — ”
She wanted to snap that she could take care of herself, thank you very much, but she also realized in the next second that Robert wasn’t being a sexist pig, only a man of his time. Back then, most men considered it their duty to look after the women around them.
Even so, she couldn’t help saying, “Well, Jeremiah Wilcox did offer me the protection of his clan. So I wouldn’t say I am completely alone.”
At once Robert’s blue eyes took on that shuttered expression she disliked so much. “And I believe I told you, Eliza, that you would do well to fear Mr. Wilcox’s attentions.”
“He hasn’t paid me any particular ‘attention,’ as you put it.” Maybe she was being disingenuous in making that particular denial. Or maybe she just really, really didn’t want to acknowledge to herself what those looks and glances from Jeremiah Wilcox might actually mean.
“It didn’t appear that way when he was dancing with you.”
So Robert had seen. And, judging by the tight set of his jaw, hadn’t liked it very much. Danica experienced a little start of satisfaction at that realization. Maybe he wasn’t quite as uninterested as he pretended to be.
“I’m sure he danced with several of the ladies,” she retorted. “I can’t say for sure, of course, since your own behavior forced me to make my exit before I intended to.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Robert replied, mouth still hard. “Mr. Jeremiah Wilcox is not one for dancing, by all accounts. That he would stand up with you, when he hadn’t done so with anyone else, was quite the cause for some gossip.”
Oh, hell. Danica wondered why Clara had never mentioned such a thing to her in all her chattering, then realized that, because of her tendency to shut the other young woman down whenever she even began to utter Jeremiah’s name, Clara had probably decided it wasn’t worth bringing up the subject. “Well, that may be, but I can’t control what Mr. Wilcox does or doesn’t do. Surely no one can fault my behavior.”
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