Ray scowled hard. Marisol was right. Why wasn’t anybody sick here? “It doesn’t make sense,” Ray said. “We know the Darkness kills people. But why not the ones here?”
Marisol’s brow wrinkled as she thought. “What if these people only get sick and die from the Darkness once they leave? Bradshaw said he didn’t get sick until after he left.”
“Then what will happen to Gigi if he comes with us?” Redfeather asked.
They looked fearfully over at the boy as he clasped his suitcase and smiled up at them.
“He’s got that buffalo pod,” Ray said.
Marisol shook her head. “You said yourself that you weren’t sure if it would save him. His skin, it’s gray. Not like the others’, but still the charm doesn’t seem to protect him fully. Are we willing to take that risk?”
“You’re right.” Ray looked down at the ground, resting his elbows on his knees as he squatted.
“What about us?” Redfeather asked, his voice pitched with concern. “Will we be okay?”
“Of course,” Ray said. “We’ve got Nel’s charms.”
Marisol exhaled deeply. “Oh, poor Gigi. We promised we’d help him—”
“Look!” Gigi called, pointing to the mill.
Ray turned. A group of Bowlers were opening a large door at the back of the warehouse. Swinging the massive frames wide, they stepped back as clouds of smoke billowed from within. Pistons chugged and a vehicle pushed through the smoke to stop in the yard.
The steamcoach looked like an oversized stagecoach, boxy and unadorned. Instead of horses, extending from the front was a barrel-nosed engine topped with a smokestack. On either side, a pair of large, diagonal cylinders were mounted to the frame. In between sat the driver’s bench with its steering handle and levers. The front wheels were large with grooved metal tires. Behind a water tank, the steamcoach pulled a car, as boxy and large as the coach but with no windows.
Several Bowlers talked together as others, armed with Winchester rifles, boarded the steamcoach. Two Bowlers sat at the driving bench. Six got inside, and two more sat on the top of the car at the back. Four agents mounted horses.
“Whatever they’re carrying,” Redfeather said, “needs a lot of protection.”
Gigi came over between them and looked up at Ray. “Are we going? Are we following that car?”
Ray dipped his eyes before speaking. “Gigi, I’m sorry, but you can’t come with us.”
“But you promised!”
“I know, but we have something very dangerous to do. Also, we’ve met people who have lived in the Darkness and then left. They get a sickness. That pod your friend Hethy gave you, we’re hoping it’ll protect you, but we don’t want to be wrong. If you get sick from leaving the Darkness, there’s nothing we could do to save you.”
Gigi looked tearful, but he firmed up his lip. “I don’t care. I’ve got to get away from this town.”
Marisol put a hand to his shoulder. “Do you want to help us?”
“Yes!” he said. “Anything.”
“We’ve got something different we need you to do,” Marisol said. “We’re going out after that steamcoach onto the plains, but we’ll end up in Chicago at the Expo. That’s where you’re going with your family. We need you to watch things for us. Keep an eye on what happens with this machinery they’re taking to the Expo. When we get to Chicago, you can fill us in. Okay?”
Gigi looked reluctant. “I want to go with you.”
“They’re leaving,” Redfeather said urgently. The steamcoach was moving through the gates, crossing over the train tracks, its headlamp blazing out at a swatch of frozen earth. The horsemen followed behind.
Ray turned back to Gigi. “I’m sorry, but you’ve got to do like Marisol asked. We’ll find you soon.”
Gigi stared at them. “You’ll find me in Chicago?”
“We will.” Marisol smiled, climbing up into Unole’s saddle. She held a hand out and Ray climbed on behind her.
They circled the horses around and waved to Gigi. The boy watched them with welling eyes.
The wind whipped Marisol’s long black hair about her face. She held it down as she turned back to Ray. “I hope we’re not making a mistake leaving him here.”
“Me too,” he said.
Shaking the reins, Marisol headed off into the Darkness after Redfeather, following the steamcoach as it rolled across the prairie.
16
COYOTES
SALLY WAS COLD. AND SHE WAS TIRED. BUT MOSTLY she was hungry.
The sun was setting over the prairie. She tucked into the windbreak of a hill to escape the lonely vastness. Opening The Incunabula of Wandering, she angled the page to catch the last red rays of sunlight.
The Incunabula had been enormously helpful on her journey so far. When she reached Knoxville, she decided the quickest way west would be by train. But she did not have enough money and knew that a girl riding so far by train would attract attention from the conductors and porters.
The Incunabula provided the answer.
She had marked the page long ago describing how agar-agar could make you completely unnoticed by those around you. It was as good as being invisible. After inquiring in several stores, she found a pharmacist who stocked the powdered seaweed. Holding a bit in her hand and concentrating on being like a shadow, she simply walked past the ticket collector and onto the train.
But the effect was temporary, and by the time she reached Iowa City, the powers had waned. She could find no shop that sold agar-agar anywhere in the town. She had no idea how much farther she would have to go. The rabbit’s foot simply pointed toward the west. How was she to find her father? She needed another way to travel.
Again the Incunabula had an answer.
Sally remembered Ray using a “foot powder” charm to command a panther. Searching through the Incunabula, Sally found instructions for collecting the dirt where a person’s foot made an impression on the ground. Sally wandered around the town, looking for someone to try the charm on. At last she spied a tinker, with a wagon full of goods, speaking to a woman. While the tinker was busy selling the woman a skillet, Sally scooped his footprint from the dust in the street into a wide-mouthed bottle. When the little, gray-whiskered man finished his sale, Sally sidled up to him and said she needed a ride. He asked in a friendly voice where she was going. When she said west, he said he had a sister in Neligh, Nebraska, he’d been wanting to visit.
For nearly a week, she rode with him and his clattering orchestra of swinging pots and pans. Sally tried not to feel guilty about forcing the man to take her so far. After all, he had said he wanted to visit his sister—but would he have decided to do that if Sally hadn’t trapped his footprint in the jar? She had to keep going west, and she couldn’t risk riding with a stranger without some assurance for her safety.
Once she reached Neligh and said farewell to the tinker, Sally decided against using the foot-powder charm again. Besides, the rabbit’s foot—turning slowly in her palm until the tiny claws were pointing out the direction—told her to go west. There was nothing in that direction but open prairie. She would have to walk. That’s what Ray would have done. That’s what her father would have done. If she was to be a Rambler, she would have to act like one.
Seven days later, huddled alone on the darkening prairie, she wished Ray were there to help her. She slammed the Incunabula closed. She could uncover lost spells and obscure charms from her father’s book. But what the Incunabula didn’t tell her was how to make a fire, how to find food, how to keep warm.
She was not a Rambler.
She reached into her rucksack and took out her bag of food. Only an apple, a biscuit that had gone stale, and a sliver of cheese remained. She bit into the brick-hard biscuit and chewed until her jaw felt like it would fall off. Even after she finished it, her empty stomach felt tight as a fist, but she knew she needed to save the rest of the food. Who knew how much farther she would have to go.
Shivering beneath her blanket, Sally su
ffered through another sleepless night.
* * *
She walked all day and did not see a single homestead. Nor a single tree. Where was she going? Where was her father?
The day was warm, with a blue, cloudless sky overhead. Cresting a hill, she looked to the south as she ate the last apple. She could still see the strange dark band covering the sky.
The Darkness.
She wondered about Ray and Marisol, hoping they had reached Omphalosa safely. An unpleasant knot formed in her throat. She had promised Ray to keep the rabbit’s foot safe at Shuckstack while he was away. He would be furious if he found out she had broken her promise. But wouldn’t he be happy when she found their father? That would make up for it, she assured herself.
But how was she going to reach her father anyway?
She had been in such a hurry to sneak away from Shuckstack, in such a hurry to find her father, she had overlooked the obvious question. She might be able to find her father with the rabbit’s foot, but how would she cross into the Gloaming to reach him?
The Incunabula of Wandering, she reminded herself. The book had shown her how to do so many other things, surely it could help her reach her father. She had to find him. She had gone too far to turn back.
The rabbit’s foot still pointed to the west. She followed it all afternoon, past endless swishing grass and tumbling sun-dappled hills.
As the sun set, she ate the last of the cheese and began dreading another miserable night. “Why can’t I just find some cowboys on a cattle drive? Why can’t I find some Sioux hunting party? Why can’t I just find someone, anyone, in this horrid wasteland cooking a hot meal?”
As she shouted this, something moved in her pocket. The rabbit’s foot! Sally took it out and held it in her palm. The foot twitched slowly toward the south.
Had she gotten off course somehow? It didn’t seem likely. She had traveled halfway across the country, weeks and weeks, and the rabbit’s foot had always been pointing to the west or slightly in a northwesterly direction. And now, all of a sudden, to the south? But it wasn’t turning and pointing—it was twitching. Like it had done back when she and Ray were in the city.
She continued walking into the twilight, and the golden foot began to tremble slightly and then nearly leaped from her hand. Had she reached her father at last? She picked up her pace, stumbling as she went up and down, up and down, hill after hill. The prairie grew dark. The stars appeared. A corn-yellow half-moon rose. A coyote yapped and another answered.
Exhausted, Sally was ready to stop for the night—for the dozenth time—when she saw a glow beyond the next dune. Fire! Sally quickened her step. As she crested the rise, she could see a cook fire blazing from the dark in the wide bowl below. There was a small bundle covered with a blanket at the edge of the firelight. But no horse, no wagon, nobody. The campsite seemed empty, except for a pot sitting on the ground with a wooden spoon protruding from beneath the lid.
Sally could smell food. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious. She didn’t really care if it wasn’t delicious. It was food, and she wanted it.
Moving closer, she peered about in the dark to see if the travelers were still there, maybe hidden somewhere out of the firelight. She saw nobody. She inched to the fireside. Her stomach whined as she lifted the lid to the pot. Beans. Her mouth watered.
As she reached for the spoon, the bundle moved. A shrill cry burst forth and the blanket rose in a whirling tangle. A hand came out from under the blanket holding a hatchet. Sally screamed and threw the lid in a hard spin. It struck with a clank, and the attacker doubled over, dropping the hatchet.
“Ouch! Hey!”
Sally scrambled to her feet, watching cautiously as the person pulled the blanket off. It was just a kid! She was no older than Sally, a black girl in several layers of tattered and patched-up dresses and shirts.
The girl winced as she touched her fingers to her cheek, a welt already rising. “That hurt!”
“Well, what were you doing hiding under there?” Sally snapped. “You scared me out of my wits!”
“This here’s my camp!” the girl said, giving Sally a fierce jut of her chin. “What’re you attacking me at my own camp for?”
“You can’t expect a person to just stand around and let herself get hacked up by some ghost-blanket-maniac.”
“You was about to eat my supper!” the girl shouted.
“I thought nobody was here,” Sally said. “Why were you hiding under that blanket anyway?”
Still rubbing her face, the girl walked back to the fireside and sat down. “I thought you was a coyote. Every night I go to sleep, there’s this coyote that keeps raiding my food. I had it with that coyote! ‘Tonight,’ I said to myself, ‘I’m going to set a trap and chop that coyote to pieces when he tries to take my supper.’”
“Sorry I ruined your plan,” Sally said. “And I’m sorry I hurt your face. I’ve barely eaten in days and I’m starving. Would you mind if I had some of your beans?”
The girl narrowed her eyes, inspecting Sally. Then she let her eyelids close. Moments passed. Was she falling asleep? Was she trying to pretend Sally wasn’t there, hoping she’d leave? Sally began to think the girl was possibly insane.
“Excuse me,” Sally said.
“I’m beholding you,” the girl said without opening her eyes.
“You’re what?”
“Hush.”
Sally waited, watching the strange girl until finally her eyes opened.
“Okay, you can have some,” she said, pushing the pot over to Sally. “I ain’t got but the one spoon. You can use it. Or your fingers if you like.”
Sally took the spoon and ate. The beans were delicious and she shoveled them into her eager mouth.
“You like them?” The girl smiled. “I’ve got corn cakes, too.” The girl unfolded a kerchief wrapped around the cold but enticing brown cakes. They were sweet and buttery and Sally ate them with her mouth half-filled with beans.
“Where’re you come from anyway?” the girl asked.
“North Carolina.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “I ain’t so good with geography, but that’s a fierce ways off!”
“It’s been a long trip. What’s your name anyway?”
“Hethy. Hethy Smith. You?”
“Sally Cobb. Nice to meet you, Hethy.”
“Uh-huh,” Hethy said as she watched Sally finish the rest of the beans.
“Do you live nearby?” Sally asked.
“Think I’d be sleeping out here? No, I’m from Kansas.”
“Are you visiting family somewhere?”
“Nope, I got no family …” She paused, her face twisting up. “I got … no family left, I guess,” she said, and then Hethy began crying.
Sally moved closer to her, patting Hethy on the shoulder. “That’s okay. That’s okay,” she said. “Did something happen?”
Hethy wiped her face and said, “My granny, I think they killed her. I do. Them men, they was coming for her. She knew it. She told me to get. Packed my bag for me quick like and said, ‘Run, Hethy. I don’t know where to tell you to go, but just run, girl.’”
“That’s awful,” Sally said. “But maybe they didn’t—”
“They did. I know they did,” Hethy sniffed. “My granny and I, we’re seers. Granny Sip more than me. I got a touch of the beholding. If she was living, I’d know.”
“What do you mean, ‘beholding’?”
Hethy sniffled as she said, “Granny Sip, she can’t see the future or nothing like that, but she can see the secrets in people’s hearts. Started when she was just a little girl back in Alabama. She can behold things others can’t. Heal folks, too. People used to come to her to find out if their sweetheart was doing them wrong or why their child took sick. That’s why them men done killed her. ’Cause she’s a witch, they reckoned. They said she caused the Dark that won’t never break.”
“The Darkness!” Sally said. “That Darkness to the south. I know about that. I saw it to
o. My brother is going to find out what’s causing the Darkness. He’s going to a town called … Ontha … Ompa …”
“Omphalosa?” Hethy’s tears had stopped and she spoke earnestly. “I sure hope that ain’t where he’s gone. That’s where I’m from. Town’s turned wicked, for sure.”
“My brother has powers also,” Sally said. “Not like your beholding, but he can take care of himself there, I know.”
“I hope so. I really do. Is that why you’re out here? You trying to find him?”
“No,” Sally said. “I’m looking for my father.”
“I knew it,” Hethy said, turning her eyes down. “I just wanted to see if you’d tell me straight.”
“What? How’d you know?”
“When I beheld you a bit ago. I looked in your heart. I seen you was looking for your daddy and you’re carrying something that’s leading you to him. What is it? What’re you carrying?”
Sally’s mouth hung open a moment. Tentatively, she took out the golden rabbit’s foot.
Hethy whistled. “Ain’t that a pretty one,” she said. “Where’d you get that?”
“I don’t know if you’ll believe me if I tell you.”
“Try me,” Hethy said, wiping her nose on her sleeve.
“My father lost his hand to a mechanical hound, called a Hoarhound.”
“Hoarhound?”
Sally nodded. “This is his hand now. It points to tell me which direction to go. If I keep following it, it’ll lead me to him.” The foot had twitched to the south. Had it meant to lead her to Hethy? She felt the rabbit’s foot stir, and this time it turned to point again to the west.
“What in the world?” Hethy muttered as she watched the paw move. “You’re right. That’s hard to stomach as the truth. But I believe you. When I was beholding you, I seen you was good, good in your heart. You didn’t venture into the Dark, did you?”
“No, why?”
“People turn bad from the Dark.” Hethy reached over to her bags and took out a dried seedpod, strangely like a bat in shape. “Granny give me this to carry and these other charms, back when the Dark started. Said it would protect me and I reckon it has. If she had only had enough for the whole town …” She squeezed her eyes against her tears, but then calmed herself with a few deep breaths.
The Wolf Tree Page 19
