Fuego whinnied sharply. Ross was holding the reins so tightly that the gelding was forced to bend his neck at an awkward angle or hurt his sensitive mouth.
Yuki shouted. “Ross! Let go of the reins! You’re hurting him!” Ross did, but Yuki was still angry. “You should have told us you can’t ride. Putting your pride ahead of everyone else’s safety isn’t courage, it’s selfishness.”
Jennie reined in beside him. “If you don’t like the way he rides, do something about it. I want him using a sword on horseback by the end of next month. Teach him.”
Ross’s look of alarm was a perfect mirror of Yuki’s dismay.
Hooves thundered through the gate. Riding in perfect formation, Defense Chief Preston, Sheriff Crow, and Yuki’s mother led a heavily armed team toward the patrol.
The council meeting to determine Ross’s fate must have already happened. Yuki couldn’t help hoping he’d never have to teach that lesson. Regardless, he had more important things to deal with. He rode to check on Paco.
16
Ross
MIA’S WARM BODY TENSED BEHIND ROSS. “UH-OH.” HER breath tickled his ear.
Defense Chief Preston’s voice carried to the back of the group. “You’re late. What happened?”
Jennie rode forward. “We were attacked by at least ten large rattlesnakes beyond the creek along the back fields. They herded us north. Yuki and Kogatana scouted and reported a giant pit mouth. We engaged the snakes and rode home. There were half a dozen injuries, three serious, and Midnight ran off.”
The riders in Mr. Preston’s group began talking.
The defense chief raised his hand for silence. “At dawn tomorrow, we’ll locate and destroy the pit mouth. Mia, prepare the explosives. Yuki, you’ll lead us to it. Jennie, you’ll accompany us. Everyone else, the debriefing’s tomorrow afternoon. Dismissed.”
“They’ll blame Jennie,” Mia whispered, as they rode to the gate.
“She did fine,” Ross protested. “No one got killed. Except snakes.”
Some of the others glared at him. They’d all heard what Henry and Yuki had said. The worst part was, they were probably right.
Sheriff Crow and Ms. Lowenstein edged their horses up beside Jennie’s.
“Come to my office, Jennie,” the sheriff said. “Soon as you can.”
At the stables, Ross was relieved to finally dismount. His entire body ached, especially his useless left arm. Mia spotted him wrestling with the saddle buckles and came over to help, which only made him feel more incompetent. He could barely bring himself to return the weapons he’d checked out, and after he had, he felt completely unprotected.
As soon as they walked into Mia’s cottage, she dropped her flamethrower with a clatter, picked up a box that was connected to the wall with black cord, and pushed a button. A lamp hanging from the ceiling lit up. Ross was too tired and angry to be impressed.
She sat down, looking as exhausted as he felt, and leaned against the bed. He sat beside her; the floor pressed painfully against his bones.
“I realized something,” Mia began. Ross stood. She blinked up at him, then went on. “When Yuki told you Kogatana’s name, he drew letters in the air. He used to do that more when we were younger, when he was still learning Spanish and English. I recognized what he drew. Your book’s in Japanese.”
“So?”
“So, there’s other people in town whose ancestors came from Japan, but that was in ancient times. They don’t speak the language anymore.” She paused. “Yuki is the only one in Las Anclas who can read your book.”
Every muscle in Ross’s body tensed at the thought of letting yet another person see it—and Yuki, too. During the ambush, he fought with sword and bow as easily and gracefully as if he and his horse were a single creature. Ross had been useless, and that made his shame burn even hotter.
“Don’t tell him about it!” The words came out louder than he’d intended.
“Okay!” Mia gave him a wary look. “You don’t have to shout.”
He took a deep breath. None of this was her fault. “Sorry. I just don’t want anyone else to know about it.”
Mia pushed her glasses absently up her nose. “Even Jennie?”
“Could she read it?”
“No, but she’d love to see it. And she’d keep it secret.”
Ross was ready to grab his book and run, assuming that the council hadn’t already voted to kick him out. “Where is it?”
She tapped one of the stacked boxes. “Safe and sound. Let’s go eat.”
Ross’s gloom lifted a little when they reached the kitchen, which was warm and smelled like spices.
Dr. Lee had already set the table. “I need to finish up with the wounded kids. Dig in. I’ll join you as soon as I’m done.”
At her first mouthful, Mia closed her eyes in ecstasy. “Noodles with black bean sauce. Lee family secret.” She noticed another dish. “Oh! My favorite—fish dumplings!” And then another. “Normal kimchi instead of some weird experiment.” She bit into a pickled radish with a loud crunch. “Dee-licious.” Her voice was muffled. “Can’t get food like this in the desert, can you?”
Dr. Lee returned before Ross had even finished a plate of noodles. He pulled up a chair. “Paco told me what happened.”
Mia hastily swallowed. “How is he?”
“The arrow missed the tendons, so there shouldn’t be any permanent damage. Once I gave him some painkillers, he made quite a passionate case for me to heal him, what with the possibility of a dance coming up and the band playing. I’m not convinced that one night of fun is worth months of his life.” He glanced at Mia. “I gather the fight was chaotic.”
“It was the most scared I’ve ever been. By far. Rattlesnakes! A pit mouth! Kids shooting every which way!” She stabbed at a dumpling with her fork, then shot a glance at Ross. “What did the council say?”
Dr. Lee rubbed his chin.
“Did they argue? Spit it out, Dad.”
“It was a four to three vote, but the sheriff and I managed to persuade the judges that the town can always use another productive citizen. Ross, you’ve been accepted on probation. After a time yet to be determined, you can become a full citizen. But for now, you can stay as long as you like.”
Mia jumped up from her chair. “That’s fantastic!”
“Wait, what?” Ross asked. “I thought you were arguing over whether or not I could stay for the next few days.”
“No, no! I thought you knew! I thought you wanted to stay for good! Don’t you?” When he didn’t reply, she said coaxingly, “This is great. Better than you hoped for, right? Don’t worry about the probation. I’m sure they’ll vote you in as a full citizen. You were a big help in the fight.”
“No, I wasn’t.” The rush of blood started at his face, then spread until his whole body was uncomfortably hot. Sweat prickled at his temples. “I fell off my horse. I dropped my sword. Twice. That was the worst I’ve ever done in a fight.”
“See, that’s why you should stay!” Mia grabbed him by the shoulders.
Ross was so startled that he almost knocked her away. He slid his chair back until she was forced to let go, but she kept on talking. “If that was really your worst ever—well, it was still better than a lot of us did. Anyway, I’m sure you fight much better on foot. That’s what you’re used to, right?”
Her voice was making his ears ring. And she was so close. She could easily put a knife through his heart at that distance. He was trapped with too many people in a hot, enclosed space whose heavy adobe walls and ceiling could collapse and bury him at any moment.
Ross got up and started backing toward the door.
Dr. Lee held up his hand. “Mia, why don’t you give him—”
Mia darted to the door and stood with her back to it. “Ross, you can’t leave. You can’t use one hand. You won’t make it.”
“I can’t make it here!” Ross knew he was shouting, but he couldn’t seem to stop. “I can’t deal with all these people. I can’t fight. I can’t sleep. Every time I lie down I feel like the ceiling’s falling on me. I keep dreaming of that singing tree—and that tree! It’s here! I can’t live here with that thing right outside the walls!”
Dr. Lee stepped between Ross and Mia. “It’s a beautiful night. Why don’t we talk outside? We’ll go to our vegetable garden. I need to pull some weeds.”
He passed Ross’s full plate to Mia and took the other two himself. Gently moving his daughter aside, Dr. Lee left the house.
Ross hurried after him. Once he was out under the night sky, he felt a little less trapped.
Mia grabbed a lamp. It swung in her free hand as they walked past a golden-lit longhouse. He heard bits of conversations from open doorways, and smelled hot chili and frying tortillas. He breathed in slowly, trying to calm down. Dr. Lee was no threat, and Mia was a friend.
As he passed a pocket garden jeweled with tomatoes and strawberries, he spotted a vague green shape, more like the idea of a plant than the thing itself. Once he gave the blob his full attention, the illusion faded, replaced by a cottontail rabbit gobbling down feathery green shoots. Ross had always wondered if rabbit illusions worked better on other animals than they did on people, or if coyotes found them just as unconvincing. Two little girls dashed out of the house, waving their hands and shouting. A bush beside the rabbit wavered and disappeared, and two rabbits stamped and bolted.
Families and friends. Ross sighed.
“That one rabbit was pretty good,” Mia remarked. “Its bush had leaves and everything.” She was keeping her distance, and Ross could hear how hard she was trying to be casual.
He wished he hadn’t yelled at her. She hadn’t done anything to him. What had made him feel like she was a threat? Why hadn’t he been able to stop himself?
They stopped at a fenced plot in a patchwork of gardens. Here and there a few people worked by lamplight. Ross could hear voices, but no words.
“This one is ours.” Mia hung the lamp on a pole, then reached down to disengage the heat-sensitive bean tendrils that had wound around the bare skin of her ankle.
Dr. Lee set the plates on a bench and squatted by a row of green shoots. “You two finish your dinner. I’ll weed these turnips.”
Ross sat down. Mia joined him and began eating, her elbow digging absently into his side. His heart pounded like someone had drawn a gun on him. He tipped his head back. No ceiling. Stars, sky, the same sky he saw when he slept out in the open.
Mia jerked her arm away and hunched over her plate, her hair swinging forward to hide her face. Ross’s panic cooled to regret.
He liked the Lees. They were good people. What was wrong with him? Why was he trying his best to make them hate him?
Dr. Lee pulled up a weed. “Mia, you’ll be happy to hear that I’m thinking of devoting these turnips to regular kimchi.”
She laughed. “You won’t mash them up with goat cheese, pickle them, and then fry them? Good choice, Dad!”
He said to Ross, “My daughter is the tragic victim of my cooking and gardening experiments. I get bored doing the same thing the same way. I like to try new things. Not just with food—I grow medicinal herbs here too. Of course, I’m much more careful with those experiments.”
He kept weeding. Ross felt like Dr. Lee was waiting for him to talk, so he took a bite of dumpling. Its initial wash of heat was followed by a tangy aftertaste.
“I’ve been a doctor here for a long time,” Dr. Lee continued. “It was the obvious job because of my Change. I apprenticed when I was much younger than Becky. I’ve patched up a lot of people after fights. Sometimes the battle isn’t over after the wound heals.”
He worked his way to the end of the row. Ross reached for another dumpling, and discovered that he’d eaten them all.
Mia nibbled on a piece of kimchi. His muscles slowly began unknotting. He wondered what would happen if she moved closer, or if he did: if it would feel better, or if he’d want to run.
Dr. Lee paused in his work, kneeling in the dirt before them. “When a wound heals, you still have a scar. When something happens to you, you still have a memory. After something very painful happens, it’s normal to have feelings that are strange to you—that feel like healing wounds. You were almost killed when you were hit by that shard. That sort of thing has an effect.”
Ross wondered if anyone else had ever had a nightmare come true. One moment he’d been riding along, and the next he was standing on the hill, staring at the singing tree that had haunted his dreams, with no idea how he’d gotten there.
He set aside his plate, though he had some noodles left. His appetite was gone. “Do you mean other people have nightmares while they’re awake?”
“Yes.” Dr. Lee’s tone reminded Ross of Jennie’s, when a student solved a difficult problem. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.”
“When I went up that ridge, I didn’t even know what I was doing,” Ross confessed.
“You tried to save my life,” said Mia. “I was so excited about trying out my flamethrower, maybe I would have gone too close.”
At the time, it hadn’t even occurred to him that she might be putting herself in danger. He’d stopped her because . . . Why had he stopped her? Well, he’d been confused. Maybe he had been worried, but didn’t remember it. Or maybe he’d wanted to destroy the tree himself.
“But these things heal,” she said softly. “Like your arm. It takes time. You can stay here with us. We won’t let anything happen to you.”
“She’s right.” Dr. Lee began on another row. “Also, you’re not trapped here, even if you do decide to become a citizen. This isn’t like Voske’s kingdom, where no one leaves without his permission.”
Mia picked up the plates. “I’d better get my explosives ready. Then maybe I’ll play my flute. Ross, you’re always welcome to come in. But knock first. Or maybe kick.” She started to reach out, then dropped her hand, gave a sad flicker of a smile, and walked away.
Ross helped Dr. Lee collect the dishes. “I didn’t know Mia played an instrument.”
“She doesn’t play like most people do, to entertain friends. You could call it her own form of meditation. I don’t think most of the town even knows.”
Ross had seen that expression, simultaneously inquisitive and perceptive, when the doctor had examined his arm and again just now, when he’d spoken about memories like scars. It was as if Dr. Lee knew something about Ross that he himself didn’t.
So Mia had told Ross a secret. Why? He’d endangered the patrol, and then he’d yelled at her for no reason. He wanted to listen to her music that no one else got to hear, but it scared him to think that she trusted him that much.
He made himself help Dr. Lee clean the kitchen, then went to his bedroom. He tried pulling back the curtains, but it still felt like one of the spaces he’d prospected: a dangerous place to work in, with one eye on the exit.
He was grateful for the comfortable and clean bed, but he always woke with a pressure on his chest like the ceiling had already caved in, his mind crowded with frightening images: the glowing shard, the ruby tree, his own blood pooling on the ground. Once he’d liked scarlet. He’d even searched for it in ruins, as unfaded colors brought good prices. But he was beginning to hate bright red.
He hurried outside. Dr. Lee’s house faced the town square. Ross breathed more easily in that open area. He dodged around the pocket gardens, looking up at the stars, and passed the dark town hall.
The night air carried the tart and spicy scent of apples and pastry from Jack’s saloon, which had one window lit, in the back. Without meaning to, Ross drifted closer and closer.
“Ross?” He started. It was Jack Lowell, the saloon owner. “Will you work for crumble?” The man came outside, tw
o lanterns in hand, and gave him a friendly smile. “Hot weather like this, everyone seems to want my cold brews. Mia hasn’t finished fixing the wiring for our cold storage in the town hall basement, and I could use a third hand to hold a lantern.”
Ross held up his right hand. “I’ve got one right here. Especially for crumble.”
Jack laughed, and led him into the hall. The interior was so huge that he didn’t feel too trapped.
“How big is this place?” he asked.
The golden light of Jack’s lanterns reached the far walls, thick adobe framed around pine logs. “We can fit the entire town, if need be, and defend from the roof. But don’t worry. We’ve seen attacks over the years, but no one’s ever gotten inside.”
The thought of being trapped inside this building, surrounded, made even the huge room seem confined and threatening. Ross’s shoulders tightened.
“Basement’s this way.” Jack handed him a lantern, then unlocked the iron-reinforced door.
“What needs locking up?”
Jack smiled. “I don’t want anyone siphoning off my beer.” He led Ross down a ramp to a cool basement with barrels stacked against a wall. “Hold the lantern close, please. These labels are hard to read.”
The barrel sloshed as Jack began rolling it up the ramp. Ross looked around as he waited for the saloon-keeper to return. Adobe buildings tended to collapse into a solid mass when they fell. But this basement, with its strong reinforced timber, reminded him of the few he had been able to prospect in. He imagined what it would be like if the rest of the building collapsed. The barrels would be smashed, but there would still be a little pocket where the structure was strongest. . . .
He headed for the one place that would stay intact even if the roof fell in, which was piled with bunting, painted columns, and other festival decorations. In the center of the ornaments and barrels was a broken wagon draped in moth-eaten fabric. Something like that was always repaired or broken up for spare parts, but instead it just sat there, covered with dust.
Stranger Page 15
