Project Enterprise (6 page)

“So, you work there? When you aren't tracking aliens?” Her wide gaze looked his direction, almost shy, a bit hopeful.

He smiled. “Yeah.”

“So, maybe we'll see each other around?”

He stopped and faced her. “Oh yeah, Jilly Smith. We'll see each other around.” Her smile was his reward. He grinned, started to turn, but stopped. “What's your real name?”

“Melischodira.”

Rick blinked once, then again. “So, Jilly, do you think you can help us find your friend's transport—station?”

She shrugged. “Maybe. And he's not my friend. He killed Dragonslayer.”

His hand brushed against hers and he grabbed it, liking the way her hand felt in his. Dry heat and Jilly. Area 51 was looking up.

T
exas 1892

Ani called him stranger inside her head, because he sure wasn't a “Joe.” To his face she didn't call him anything cause she couldn't call him what he wasn't. Hadn't said much of anything to him, not since he'd ridden over the rise three days ago and Pa invited him to ride along with them. He was headed to Marfa, too, though that was all he'd shared about himself of a personal nature. He didn't talk much, which suited Pa, since he talked enough for all of them and a few more besides.

Wary for reasons she hadn't figured out yet, she'd watched him through her lashes, mostly at night around the campfire, though her gaze might accidentally stray his direction now and again in daylight. She took care not to meet that hard-as-a-drill gaze, since she was supposed to be a boy and she didn't feel like one when she looked at him. And if he looked too close, he'd know she wasn't that young. Good thing she took after her blessed Ma, who had looked young until the day she went to her reward.

Ani'd exchanged skirts for pants when they took to the road selling the elixir from the rear of the wagon. Like her Pa, their wagon walked a fine line between serious and spectacle, as did his English accent. He claimed to be gentry, a younger son who'd eloped with the under housemaid and been shipped off to the colonies to remove the stain of his disgrace from the family name. Sometimes she believed it was true. She could talk gentry like him when the situation called for it, which it didn't that much. Mostly she looked peaked and moaned so her Pa could heal her. Her gaze skittered the stranger's way again. Not sure she could do either in front of him.

A lot of men had passed by—or even stopped to buy—since that day they took to the road, but none as interesting as the stranger. Big and likely looking, with a huge helping of tough in him, he had a cool gaze that saw things, though he was also a gentleman—or as much a one as her Pa. She saw it in the way her Pa reacted to him, how much it pleased Pa when the stranger called him “Dr. Everly” with just enough respect so as not to be obvious, heard it in the way he spoke, too.

Pa didn't seem to see the danger that lurked below the stranger's surface though he should. Danger clung like his clothes, fit him as well as they did, mingled with his scent that the night breeze sent her way every now and again. And lurking behind the danger she sensed a deep well of sad.

Unlike her Pa, Ani saw it all. One of them had to. Not everyone liked finding out you couldn't buy a miracle for a dollar. That's why they'd had to avoid the Paisano settlement this year. No, what surprised her was how it felt to see those things in him. Made her feel all strange and sad, too, made her want to do something about it, despite the danger. Didn't think the stranger would let her do anything for him though and a good thing that was. Wanting to do something about a man had caught her Ma in the tangle of Pa's life. Ma had loved him to the end, but she saw him clear and told Ani to see him clear, too.

“Illusions are for magic shows,” she'd said more than once, “not for living.”

Pa, well, he preferred illusions and more than a few delusions. Heaven knew his amazing elixir was mostly both. The stranger? If he'd ever had illusions, she had a feeling he'd lost them long ago.

So Ani kept her head bent over her book, though she peered through her lashes, trying to see the stranger clear, to see past the odd stirring in her chest at the sight of the long limbs stretched toward the fire and the broad shoulders settled against the wagon wheel. Tried not to note that the shadows on his face weren't all from the need to shave or the low hanging moon. He looked relaxed, well, as much as he could when he looked like he could whip his weight in wildcats.

“Jules Verne?”

It took her a few seconds—and her Pa clearing his throat—to realize the question was for her. She lifted her lashes, taking as long as she could before she had to meet his gaze. Felt a bit of a jolt when she did, a strange mix of cold and hot shivering through her. She nodded her answer, cause her voice caught in her throat and she wasn't sure it would come out low enough for the boy she was supposed to be. Another cough from her Pa got her to hold the book out for the stranger's inspection. He took it, keeping her gaze captive during the exchange, his hand brushing hers long enough to send another round of shivers through her. A relief when the gaze shifted from her to the book, though not enough to unclog her throat.

“
The Steam House.
Interesting choice.”

What did he mean by that? It was sure the right choice for the boy she was supposed to be. Lucky she liked everything Verne wrote, wanted to write something like it, but with a griffin. Pa thought it made her look more like a boy to have a book in hand, boosted her peakedness, too.

The gaze lifted, slow like, and grabbed hers again. Made her want to run, though she couldn't say if it was away or—he couldn't
know
, could he? The high desert night was chilly, but Ani felt heat storm her cheeks and was glad for the darkness that hid most of the blush. Boys didn't blush, did they? Truth was, she didn't know as much as she should about boys or girls. When they hit a town she had to go into her act. Even after the healing, folks tended to keep their distance, just in case.

Beyond the stranger, the first ghost light appeared, down toward the Chinati's. Didn't take it long to split into two, then into four. Showing some color this year. Felt the stranger's gaze pulling at her own, so she pointed at them to distract him, or maybe she needed it. The way he looked at her, made her feel odd, kind of discontented with how things were, how they had to be. How they'd always be? Sad mingled with discontented at that thought.

By the time he looked, there were twelve in the sky. The stranger's brows arched just a bit. “The Marfa lights. So that's what they look like.”

Almost seemed he spoke to himself, but Pa grabbed the opening anyway, did some expounding on the differences they'd observed their last three years in the area, on how they didn't always show up in the same place. Her Pa did like spectacle, and so, it seemed, did the ghost lights, as they began to scoot around. They didn't always, and this was her first time to see color, though the locals had told them it could happen.

The stranger rose, moved away from the fire, taking her book with him. Ani bit her lip, fighting the urge to go get it, when she knew she should keep her distance from the stranger.
I want to finish the chapter
is what she told herself when she scrambled to her feet, fighting—for the first time in a long time—to keep the girl from her walk as she eased in beside him.

Be a good thing when they reached Marfa and parted company.
A good thing
, she repeated, not sure why she felt the need.

This was the first time she'd stood this close, could compare his height with hers. Didn't know why the ways they were different felt kinda right, kinda nice even. He was a border ruffian and dangerous to boot. But she'd lived safe for so long, it felt like life had passed her by. Been put on the shelf before she had a chance to be off it—

“Have you ever followed them to their source?” The stranger shifted to look at Pa, the movement putting a bit more distance between them, though Ani caught a glancing blow as his gaze passed her on its way to Pa's.

Pa rose and came to stand next to her. “Some have tried.”

Ani heard the change in his voice, half amused at the notion of chasing lights, half tinged with a bit of longing to try it.

“As a man of science, I would, of course, be able to unravel the mystery, if I didn't have responsibilities to those unfortunate sick who need the healing that I bring to this blighted region.”

Translation:
he was tired, the night was cold, and the fire helped a mite to ease the ache in his bones from the wagon's jolting.

Pa moved further from the circle of light cast by their fire, as if the ghost lights drew him. Before she could stop it, Ani sent a huffed look the stranger's way. If they started chasing the ghost lights, they'd most likely come in at the little end of the horn this winter. Though, she half glanced at the lights, they did kind of seem to beckon. Almost teasing-like.

“I think I might just take a ride that way,” the stranger said, though it sounded like he was talking to himself again.

She felt a pain in her chest at the thought of him leaving. And a good thing, she reminded herself, rubbing the pain spot.

His gaze slanted her way, catching her at it. “Want to ride along?”

Shock, longing, and a desire to hide widened her eyes and muted her voice again.

“Boy would like that.” Pa's words didn't help her speaking problem any. “You wouldn't mind a little adventure on this fine night, would you? See the elephant, so to speak?”

He wanted her to go with the stranger? Then she figured it out. Didn't want the stranger finding out anything Pa couldn't. If they discovered something, he could take credit later. She half sighed as that odd feeling welled up in her chest again. She had seen the elephant more than she liked with Pa, but—and this was the odd part—seeing it seemed a mite appealing with the stranger at her side. Or maybe she was just weary with being safe. Be better if the elephant turned out to be a griffin though.

“
Y
ou can take Delphine
,” Everly said.

He meant the horse—the man formerly known as Tobias Smith presumed—since he'd already agreed to let his daughter ride off into the night with a stranger.

“Joe” hadn't meant to ask the question, then told himself it was a test, since the words were out there and couldn't be taken back—cause he was ninety-nine-point-nine percent sure the boy was a girl. One thing he'd got right was Everly's total lack of common sense, which was why he shouldn't have asked the question. Clear as day Everly didn't want to go racketing around in the dark, but didn't mind if the girl rode along, just in case there was something to find.

“Joe” wanted to shake his head or shake them both—not feel a spurt of pleasure at the thought of spending time with the girl. He hadn't been thinking right since he'd spotted the medicine show wagon leaving Alpine and heading in the direction of Paisano Pass. He'd figured he'd pause just long enough for courtesy and then ride on by. He was a mite sensitive about grifters after getting caught in the net of one of the worst in several galaxies. And then Everly's “son” lifted her chin and he caught sight of those big, blue eyes. His polite refusal turned into a yes that dismayed her almost as much as it did him.

Do no harm
was the creed he lived by in this place, in this time—nothing in the creed about rescuing a damsel in distress, in particular a damsel who didn't seem to know she was in distress.

The girl was the opposite of Olivia, which was a relief. A greyhound lean, strawberry blonde who was not that good at being a boy and who had, at first, looked to be a bit on the cowed side. And then she set her chin his way and he knew that all the life hadn't been stamped out of her. That the traces of red in her hair weren't for show. The hint of defiance might have reminded him of Olivia—and sent him on his way—but where Olivia's eyes had dismissed him with more than a hint of scorn, this waif's…didn't. She was curious like a woman about him but—and this wasn't a surprise since she'd been a boy a while—she didn't have a clue what to do about it.

He felt some sympathy for her. And more for himself. He'd thought he was done with women. Seemed he wasn't, quite, but he was bad news for her or any woman, which was why he usually kept his distance.
Do no harm.
Of course, her father was worse than bad news—if he'd done the math right on how long Everly had had the girl traveling about being a boy. He'd shared their life story the first night, some of which might have been the truth, all about
his
broken heart and taking to the road to forget.

“Joe” knew more than he wanted to about broken hearts, and Everly's wasn't
that
broke. Might be a bit dented, but Everly was too in love with himself for real grief. If he'd been half the man he should have been, he'd have sucked it up for his daughter, given her the life she was supposed to have. Not this.

No place for a woman with only one crazy old man as protection, but it wasn't a bad place for a man alone, one who needed to forget. The Paisano Plateau had a sort of raw, bleak beauty that matched the raw, bleak places inside him. During the day, the sky was as blue as the girl's eyes, at night a blanket of stars lay over the land, giving the illusion of safety, of being invisible. As if to belie the thought, a coyote loosed a long, lonesome howl in the distance.

Empty had a whole new meaning in a place like this.

He studied the ghost lights, torn about his reason for riding this way.

He'd been down by the Rio Grande, a sentimental trip he shouldn't have taken, when he heard someone talking about the ghost lights outside Marfa. He'd recalled wondering about them when he'd been here in the 1940's. He knew that when large time events happened, traces of the disruptions could show up in odd ways any where and sometimes any
when
. Were these lights the traces of time cleaning up after that intergalactic grifter he wanted to forget or remnants of the disruption that took him to the 1940's?