The Good Luck Girls

by Charlotte Nicole Davis

  Aster started towards him.

  “Need some help?” she asked, clearing her throat awkwardly.

  He looked up at her. Narrowed his black eyes. “No.”

  “Sam says you’re preparing a feast for tonight, so I find that hard to believe.”

  “Believe whatever the hell you want.” He piled the platters on a pushcart and wheeled it to the kitchen door. His words struck Aster. Her hurt soon turned to anger. She had just been beginning to believe this place really was a refuge, and here this asshole was treating her like the mud on his boots.

  Aster jumped in his path. Crossed her arms. “You have a problem with me?”

  “No—I—” He seemed genuinely surprised.

  “I didn’t come all this way just to be judged by the likes of you.”

  He held his hands up for peace. The lines on his palms ran deep. “I’m not judging anybody. I’m sorry if I—I’m not like my brother—I’m not good at conversation. That’s why he greets the newcomers and I just make the food.”

  Aster softened, stepping out of his way. She followed him into the kitchen. He didn’t protest.

  “Well, I’m not good at conversation, either,” she muttered. “I was just … kind of curious, I guess. I always heard about hotfoot hideouts growing up, but I never thought I’d actually see one. But if you don’t feel like talking…”

  “When did I say that? Listen, if you really want to hang around, I’m not going to stop you,” Eli said. “You want to wash the dishes? Because I sure as hell don’t. Here.”

  He tossed her his cleaning rag and pointed to a washtub. Aster half regretted her own stubbornness, but she supposed as much as the Scorpions were doing for them, she could manage to wash a few dishes.

  For a few minutes they worked together in silence, her washing and him drying, but it was an easy silence, and the task was soothing. Eli didn’t look at her. He didn’t touch her. He didn’t seem to expect anything of her. It was an unspeakable relief.

  “How long have you and Sam lived here?” Aster asked eventually. She was used to making idle conversation with men, but Eli acted nothing like the brags at the welcome house. They loved to hear themselves talk. Eli would clearly have to be drawn out.

  Eli’s scowl deepened. “Lived in Red Claw about a year,” he said, “but we’ve been with the Scorpions much longer. They took us in when we were just a couple of hotfoot kids. Sam fell in love with the lot of them, decided to join up. Didn’t take him long to work his way up the chain to captain.”

  “And who’s above him?”

  “It’s not like that. The Scorpions don’t have a single leader. Every camp has its own captain, its own rules, its own way of doing things. We work together as best we can.”

  “Sounds … messy.”

  “It is,” he said shortly.

  Aster was undeterred. “So, if Sam’s the captain of this camp, that makes you second-in-command, right?”

  “Cutter’s second-in-command. I just work here.”

  They’d finished with the dishes, and now Eli jerked his head for Aster to follow him into the pantry. The room was lined with shelves of food, from dry goods and salted meat to bags of beans and barrels of wine.

  “It’s like living in a giant root cellar down here,” Eli explained. “Cool and humid all the time. Keeps everything fresh. I figure we make chili pepper stew tonight. That’ll mean chopping a lot of vegetables.”

  “Fine by me.”

  In truth, Aster’s mouth was already watering at the thought. They hadn’t eaten a proper meal since leaving the welcome house. Eli handed her a netted cap to hold back her hair. Aster fit it over her head as best she could, feeling like a fool. Eli smiled faintly.

  “Ought to just shave it all off like I do.”

  “We can’t all go around looking like a billiard ball.”

  He handed her a sack and they began to gather vegetables: peppers, onions, tomatoes, garlic, and sweet red potatoes.

  “Where’d you get all this food? Do you grow it?” Aster asked, wrinkling her nose at the sharp scent of the onions.

  He shook his head. “We have to make regular supply runs aboveground from friendly vendors, and we trade with the other camps, too. It’s impossible to grow much of anything besides mushrooms and mold in these caverns.”

  “You like it, living like that? Living … down here?”

  Eli was quiet for so long Aster assumed he hadn’t heard her. He slung a heavy bag of beans over his shoulder with deceptive ease. “You feel like you have to say yes to a question like that,” he answered finally. “There are folks dying to get taken in by the Scorpions. But I wasn’t made to live underground. None of us were. I miss the sun. I miss weather. Wind and rain. The smell of trees. Everything.”

  “You get to feeling like you’re already dead and buried,” Aster said, thinking of the uncanny feeling that had overwhelmed her last night.

  Eli looked at her squarely for the first time. “Exactly. I hate that they’ve chased us down here. That this is the best any of us are supposed to hope for.”

  Like Green Creek, Aster thought suddenly. Women were supposed to be grateful if they got taken away to live in a welcome house. Men were supposed to be grateful if they escaped to a hole in the ground.

  “Will you try to escape to Ferron when the time comes?” Aster asked. “When the tunnels are done, I mean?”

  Eli shook his head. “Don’t think so. My brother says we owe it to our own to stay and fight the landmasters. We’re blessed that we can. Not everyone’s able to.” Eli sighed. “And I know he’s right. It’s only that sometimes I wish we didn’t have to fight at all. Feels like I’ve been fighting since the day I was born. I’d rather’ve grown up slow, like kids are supposed to do.”

  It was as if he’d pulled the thought out of Aster’s own head, one she hadn’t even realized she’d been thinking. But if she acknowledged the weight of what she’d lost, it would crush her.

  “You wish you could start your whole life over,” Aster said, almost to herself.

  Eli nodded. “With a whole new body that they never broke down and a mind that hadn’t made any bad memories yet. Yeah…” He laughed softly. “I think about that a lot.”

  Unsettled, Aster followed Eli back into the kitchen. They began chopping up the onions and soaking the beans. For a moment Aster felt as if she were a daybreak girl again, washing and peeling until her skin was raw. But of course, there were no raveners here to force her to work faster and fill her with dread. And she would actually get to enjoy the food she made.

  “What about you? What’s your plan?” Eli asked eventually.

  Aster hesitated. “Trying to find Lady Ghost,” she replied, starting in on the peppers. “She’s this woman who can get rid of favors.” It sounded absurd when she said the words out loud, and she found herself getting defensive before Eli could laugh at her. “One of the girls with us, Violet … she has an in with her.”

  Eli raised an eyebrow. “That so?”

  Well, it was a stretch of the truth, certainly. But not an outright lie, Aster hoped. “You know anything about Lady Ghost?” she asked.

  Eli shook his head. “Nothing more than the basic story. Growing up I’d come across women who’d aged out of their welcome house and tried to remove their favors—burning them off, most times, or cutting them out—but none of them had any luck. Left their faces scarred and their favors more painful than ever. Not to say the same’ll happen to you,” he added quickly, cutting his eyes over to Aster. “I’m sure Lady Ghost knows what she’s doing.”

  “Right,” Aster mumbled, though now she wished she hadn’t asked. Wished she hadn’t pinned so much hope on a woman they knew so little about. A woman who might not even exist.

  Eli was adding spices to the beans now. “Anyway, Zee’s good people for helping you all get to Northrock,” he said, seeming to try and lighten the mood.

  “So … and do you know Zee well?” Aster asked, hoping she sounded casual. Might
not do for Eli to know how curious she was about Zee’s past … or that she was certain Zee himself was lying about it.

  Eli shook his head. “Not like my brother does. I tend to keep to myself.”

  Damn it.

  “I have nothing but respect for him, though,” Eli went on. “Him taking you to Lady Ghost reminds me a little of what we hope to do for folks one day, helping hotfoots cross the border.”

  With that, an idea cut through Aster’s brief disappointment.

  “Eli … what if we worked together?” Aster asked slowly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Scorpions are fighting to help dustbloods, right? That includes most Good Luck Girls. You ought to help them, too. And we could help you. The landmasters visit the welcome houses and we know them better than they know themselves. We know their comings and goings, we know their plans. Imagine—”

  But Eli was shaking his head.

  “What?” Aster demanded.

  “Nothing, sorry, it’s just—well, you and your friends are special, seeing as you got rid of McClennon’s boy and you’ve been giving the law hell. You’re legends around here. But you’d have a hard time getting some of the guys to work together with any other Good Luck Girls.”

  Aster bristled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He must’ve seen the look on her face, because he backtracked. “Forget I said anything.”

  “Whatever I’m thinking is worse than the truth.”

  Eli said nothing, brow knitted as he chopped the garlic.

  A warning crept up the nape of Aster’s neck, raising her hackles. “Eli … am I safe here?” she asked carefully. “My friends, my sister … are we safe?”

  It seemed to take Eli a moment to understand her meaning, but as soon as he did, he rushed to reassure her. “Of course,” he said. He set his knife down and faced her. “Always, Aster. My brother, he’d never allow anyone to hurt you. Neither would I, for that matter. That’s not how this place works. You’re safe here. Always.”

  She let out a breath that was half relief, half exasperation. “Then what the hell are you talking about? Why shouldn’t the Scorpions help girls like us?”

  Eli sighed, picking up the knife again. “There’s just this … resentment some men carry, when it comes to the Good Luck Girls. One of my bunkmates, for example, Ian—when he heard you all were here it got him to talking about the girls he’d grown up with who ended up in the welcome house. And his words about them were … less than kind.”

  “… Well? What’d he say?”

  “I’d rather not repeat it.”

  “Eli, I’ve heard things that would make even your hair curl. Don’t treat me like some child. Tell me what your friend said.”

  Eli looked down at his big bear-paw hands. The knuckles were scarred white. At last he spoke. “He’s not my friend,” he said, his mouth a line. “And what he said was, ‘We were breaking our backs down in the mines, but at least that was honorable work. Good Luck Girls sell their souls, lying with the landmaster so they can live in his mansion and drink his wine. They’re two-faced traitors who deserve what they get.’”

  Aster clenched her jaw. She drew in a measured breath through her teeth.

  “And what did you say?”

  Eli shrugged. “I told him if he was going to act like an ass, he could spend the night in the stables. For all I know he’s still there.”

  Aster exhaled.

  “How many are there who think like him?” she asked in a low voice.

  “Not all of us,” he said quickly. “Not even most of us. But … enough. That’s what I hate most about the Reckoning, I think. The way it makes desperate folks turn on each other. You’re right—we need to be helping each other. It’s the only way.”

  Well, too bad, because I don’t feel like helping these fools anymore.

  “The thing is,” Eli continued, “it’s not just men like Ian who are the problem. There are … practical reasons we haven’t been able to help the Good Luck Girls, too.” He hesitated. “It’s hard enough helping miners run away from the tenant camps, but to help girls escape welcome houses … those places are locked down like military forts. It’s near impossible to get in, let alone out.”

  “Right, I know.”

  They were silent for a long moment, peeling potatoes, listening to the water bubbling in the pot. That was how Aster felt—boiling with anger. Her favor burned. How dare any of them think of her as a traitor? She’d never wanted any of this. They had no idea what they were talking about. They were the traitors for abandoning the people who needed their help the most. For giving up without ever even trying.

  “You’re right to be angry,” Eli said at last. He had moved onto dicing the tomatoes.

  Aster looked at him sidelong. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission.”

  “It’s not like that. I just—I admire you for it. It’s like I said. Everyone’s telling us to be grateful. It’s hard to let yourself be angry anyway, you know?”

  Aster swept her potato peels into a compost bin, wondering if she should answer truthfully. But as honest as he’d been with her, she supposed she could return the favor.

  “It scares me, though, Eli … how angry I am, all the time,” Aster admitted. “Just two days ago we robbed this bank in Scarcliff. And I got so … so consumed by my anger—at the brags who were cursing us, and at the landmasters whose shine we were stealing, and at the lawmen who were trying to capture us—that I wasn’t thinking straight. I was so desperate to hurt them that I didn’t care if I got hurt, too, see? And my recklessness almost got my friend killed. That’s how we ended up here.” She shook her head, her stomach turning. “I don’t think they blame me, but I blame myself. Sometimes I think I’d be better off if I didn’t care about anything.” She was thinking of Violet now—Violet and her cold detachment. “Maybe I’d be happier, at least.”

  Eli sucked his teeth. “I don’t know. You can’t help but care about some stuff, and pretending you don’t never solves the problem,” he said thoughtfully. “But anger … anger gets things done. Sometimes, at least. You just have to make sure you’re using it, and never the other way around. That’s when you get reckless, that’s when you end up hurting yourself and the people you care about. But the anger alone doesn’t make someone a bad person, I don’t think. It just makes them human.” Then he looked at Aster with glint of mischief in his eye. “So … you robbed a bank? You’re going to have to tell me more about that.”

  That managed to bring a smile out of her. Aster relaxed, just a bit.

  “Let me start at the beginning.”

  * * *

  Evening fell upon the camp, and Aster rang the bell to let everyone know that supper was ready. In the end they’d prepared three vats of chili pepper stew, along with cornbread and cold root brew. People trickled into the meeting hall in twos and threes—the Scorpions, the hotfoots, and finally, Aster’s own group. They all looked much more well rested, even Mallow.

  Aster ran over to meet them.

  “Aster! Were you really working on supper all day? How are you not ready to drop?” Tansy asked, her eyes brightening at the spread of food on the serving table.

  Aster glanced back at Eli, who had already taken up his post behind the serving table like a pianist about to play his favorite tune. She smiled. “I had help.”

  In the morning the mood in the meeting hall had been subdued, everyone still dragging themselves out of sleep or focused on the day ahead, but now chatter and laughter echoed throughout the room. At one table someone picked out a haunting melody on their guitar, while at another a group sang a drinking song:

  “A drink to get rich, a drink to get wed, a drink for the living, and two for the dead!”

  Sam Daniels arrived after most had taken their seats, greeting everyone he passed by name. He joined Aster and the others at their table, along with Cutter and several of the younger Scorpions. Once everyone had been served, Eli slid
in at their table, too. After spending all day in the kitchen, Aster had thought she’d all but lost her appetite for the meal in front of her. But with the first taste, her hunger returned. The rich red stew and fresh cornbread made her stomach cramp with raw want.

  After they finished eating, a boy named Lewis broke out a deck of cards. He had smooth, golden skin and long, black hair gathered in a tail. He began dealing the cards, the corner of his mouth tilted up in a smile.

  “Come on, Lewis, we can’t play cards, there are ladies present,” Cutter said.

  “Sounds like someone’s just afraid of losing to a girl,” Clementine taunted.

  Cutter crossed his arms. “Sam. Tell him I’m right.”

  Sam was already organizing his hand. “Loser does the dishes tonight.”

  “What’s the game?” Tansy asked excitedly. They’d all seen the men at the welcome house play cards in the gambleman’s room, but none of them had ever been allowed to play, of course.

  Lewis began explaining the rules. Aster was too tired to follow him—her long day was finally catching up to her—but she agreed to stay up a little longer and look over Clementine’s shoulder.

  “I don’t get it,” Zee complained once Lewis had finished with the rules. “You need to start over and explain it to me like I’m five.”

  “Wait, wasn’t your dad a great gambleman? How are you so bad at this?” Clem teased him.

  Zee opened and closed his mouth, seemingly too caught off guard to form a response. Sam raised his eyebrow at Zee, but said nothing.

  “He—I never—” Zee stumbled.

  “You’ll catch on, Ezekiel,” Mallow said impatiently. “I just want to know what we’re betting with. Because we’re not risking any of our shine, that’s for damn sure.”

  “No, of course not,” Lewis said. “Let’s say we bet with … secrets. The winner of each round gets to ask one of the rest of us a question.”

  Aster and Violet exchanged glances. Aster didn’t like the sound of that. She could imagine what kind of questions a bunch of young men might have for some Good Luck Girls.