Rebel Heart (22 page)

Turns to—

Turns to—

Then it’s gone. All gone.

It’s jest darkness. An I’m fallin.

Down, down, down to the deep, vast dark.

I wake with a gasp.

It’s a star-filled night. A mellow moon night. A breeze blows sweet in the trees. By the sweet, mellow light of the late summer moon, I see Lugh an Maev by the fire. They’re kneelin. Facin each other. She touches his hair. His face. His lips. With gentle, tender care.

She moves towards him. She goes to kiss him.

He turns his head away.

She waits a long, long moment. At last she gits to her feet. She goes an lays herself down. On the ground beside Tommo an Em.

Lugh sits on watch.

I pretend to sleep. But I’m thinkin about what I jest seen. He’s drawn to her. He feels fer her. I read it in his face. I know. So why did he turn away?

I sleep shallow, driftin in an out on half-thoughts an almost-dreams. I crave the oblivion of deep sleep, but my brain’s too busy.

A rustle an a whisper weave their way into my head. Unner heavy eyelids, I half-see Slim relieve Lugh on the watch, settle his bulk into his slingchair. Then I’m pulled down into a fevered muddle, of snakes an skulls an yellow medicine wagons.

An one dream, more real than the rest. Where Slim’s openin the rear door of the Cosmic an takin out a bulky sack. He hushes Tracker, who’s doggin his heels with keen innerest. With a glance around the sleepin camp, Slim slips off into the woods. Tracker follows. Then it’s rope bridges an lightnin storms an meet-me-at-the-Lost-Cause-by-the-full-moon.

When I come to agin, it’s becuz Slim’s touched my shoulder to wake me. Then everybody’s stirrin. As we break camp in silence, my head starts to clear. So strange, the visions that take hold of you in the night. Essept there’s fresh mud on Slim’s boots. An I could swear it warn’t there when we went to sleep.

We’re back on the road agin while it’s still dark. We head east. Always east. We’ll be drivin into the dawn. Same as yesterday, I ride up front with Slim. Lugh an Emmi ride Hermes. Maev an Tommo’s inside the Cosmic. Tracker sprawls over my feet. Nero flies above, swoopin down every now an then to see what’s what.

Slim natters away, tellin me how there’s a curfew between sundown an sunup. The Tonton don’t permit no travel durin the hours of darkness. But we’re on a mission, says Slim. The Lost Cause or bust. He’s stickin to the main trail as long as we can to make better time. We’ll jest hafta dodge off-road before we git to Maryville Drift. That should be some time around sunup. They got a guardpost there, so we’ll take one of his little detours onto a side road.

Time an distance rattle away unner the wheels of the Cosmic. The landscape changes. We start to see the shadows of soft, folded hills. Stands of birch make thin silver ghosts in the darkness. Not long now till dawn.

Slim sits taller. His hands tighten on the reins. He ain’t so cool about travellin these roads as he makes out. It ain’t far to Maryville, he says. We need to start lookin out fer—

Fer what? I says.

He curses unner his breath. It warn’t like this last time I passed, he says.

Jest ahead of us, to the left of the trail, there’s signs of new settlement. A raw, razed parcel of birch forest. The felled trees, cut an stacked neat around the edges. The site’s bin almost cleared of stumps. The thick chain an horse yoke lie ready to be used. An there’s the horses. Two sturdy, shaggy mustangs. They’re tied to a stake next to a tent.

A tent. Somebody’s here.

I hold my bolt shooter on Slim. Take us outta here, I says. Fast.

Slim slaps the reins. Moses picks up the pace. Slim slaps agin an the camel really starts to fly. As we race by the clearin, we turn our heads to look. Somebody’s comin outta the tent. They bin roused by the rumble of our wheels. It’s a young guy. Short hair. Tall with broad shoulders. He’s pullin on his shirt.

He calls, Long life to the— Hey! Hey, come back here! It’s still curfew! Stop! Lemme see yer marks!

I press the shooter to Slim’s temple. Don’t even think about it, I says.

No fear of that, he says. Heeya, Moses! Heeya!

I grab the side of the Cosmic an look back. The fella’s runnin fer the horses, shoutin. A girl, maybe my age, comes dashin outta the tent with two firesticks. She throws him one.

They’re comin after us, I says. There’s a girl too.

Damn, he says.

Hermes gallops up alongside us, Lugh an Emmi lookin over.

What now? says Lugh.

Take the child outta harm’s way! Slim shouts. There’s a hill comin up! Once yer past it, peel off to the right. Wait fer us at the long stone wall. You cain’t miss it. Go!

Lugh’s eyes meet mine. Don’t do nuthin stupid, he says.

I won’t, I says.

Hold tight, Em! He heels Hermes an they race off.

I stand up on the seat. Hang onto the edge of the roof as I peer back over it. The guy’s on horseback. He’s movin fast. The girl ain’t far behind.

I slide back down on to the seat. They’re gainin on us, I says. What’ll we do?

You’ll hafta kill ’em, says Slim. If you don’t, they’ll report that I broke curfew, that I didn’t stop. Everybody knows the Cosmic. The Tonton’ll be on the lookout fer us. His voice sounds matter-of-fact. Like he’s talkin about the weather.

I blow out a quick breath. Hold her steady, I says.

I stand on the seat agin. I shove my bolt shooter into the back of my belt. Pull myself onto the roof of the Cosmic. I lay flat on my stummick. The rig bumps an jolts. We hit a hole. I fly up. Land hard. If I don’t crack a rib or git thrown off, it’ll be a small miracle. I got a feelin Lugh might consider this stupid. But it’s lucky fer me the Cosmic’s such a wreck. Slim’s wrapped ropes an chains around to keep her from fallin apart. I jam my feet unner one of the ropes. Make sure I’m well an truly braced. I pull out the shooter an lean on my elbows.

The homesteader’s comin up fast behind us. The girl too. She draws level with him. Now she pulls ahead. I gotta wait till they’re in range.

Nero swoops overhead, screamin. Git away, I shout.

They gallop closer. Closer still. Now I got a clear view of their faces.

Her smooth cheeks. Her round chin. Her hair flyin behind her, long an fair. She ain’t seen more’n fourteen summers. An him. Despite his man’s body, he ain’t much older’n Tommo. A couple of youngsters.

I’ll take her out first. I aim at the quartered circle brand in the middle of her forehead. Cold sweat beads my forehead. My upper lip. Wets my palms.

She grips hard with her knees. She’s raisin her firestick.

Now. Now! Shoot her now!

Epona. On the roof. She smiles at me. She nods.

She starts to run towards me.

I cain’t do it. I cain’t shoot her.

Suddenly, the girl flies backwards. Arrow to her heart. She lands in a heap on the road. The boy opens his mouth. No chance to yell. A arrow zings into his throat. He tumbles offa his horse. They lie in the dirt. Neether of ’em moves. Their horses turn an race off together.

I peer over the edge of the Cosmic. At the far end, Maev swings into view. She hangs onto the doorframe with one hand, her bow held in th’other. She throws me a look. A what’s-the-matter-with-you? look. She gives a little shake of her head. Then she swings back outta sight. No, Maev sure ain’t lost her edge.

I free myself from the ropes. I slide offa the roof an back onto the seat beside Slim.

You do it? he says.

Yeah, I says.

We cain’t leave the bodies there, he says. We gotta go back.

I shake my head. Drive on, I says.

But you don’t—

I said, drive on! I yell it at him.

Tracker lays his head on my lap, whinin. I stroke his ears. A couple of kids, I says. I don’t think he’d even started shavin.

I look at Slim, but he don’t look at me. He keeps his face forwards. I cain’t tell what he’s thinkin.

I couldn’t shoot the girl. My hands didn’t shake, but still . . . I couldn’t kill her. I lost my nerve. Without Maev, I might be dead right now. She saved my skin once more.

We find Lugh an Emmi at the long stone wall. They don’t ask no questions. They don’t hafta. They can see on our faces how it played out.

Slim’s bloody detour. It takes us through such rough terrain, everybody’s gotta pile out an walk while he leads Moses. Nero hitches a ride on Moses’ hump. Tracker sticks with me.

Pushin an pullin, shovin an heavin, we coax Moses an the Cosmic along. Over hummocky prairie. Up an down an around hills thick with shad-bush an honeysuckle. We’re caught out by a sudden patch of suck-mud. Somehow Slim manages to keep Moses goin, but the Cosmic’s another thing. She sinks down a good foot an it takes us ferever to haul her free. In all of the shabibble, Emmi parts company with both her boots.

Where’s this damn road? I says.

Not far, says Slim. Mind you, this ain’t my usual detour. Guess you’d call it the detour of the detour. If I’m readin the runes right, we oughta run into another trail in a bit. That’ll take us back to the road, then it’s straight over the causeway into the storm belt an hey presto, welcome to the Lost Cause.

Less chat, more pace, I says. C’mon! Let’s move it!

I urge us on. The sun beats down on our heads. I keep lookin up, checkin its path. By middle day, I’m wound up tighter’n a spinnin top. I march back to Slim. He’s wet through with sweat. Red in the face. I grab a handful of pink dress an yank him to me.

What kind of a gawdamn detour is this? I says. Where’s the gawdamn road? If we ain’t at the Lost Cause by nightfall, I swear, yer gonna be one dead fat man in a frock.

His one good eye stares at me. I never seen nobody so anxious to git to a hooch joint, he says. There must be a party I don’t know about.

My bolt shooter’s up. Pressed to his forehead. Don’t be smart with me, I says.

It ain’t a party, says Emmi, we’re meetin—

Nobody, I says.

We need to push on, says Maev, that’s all. Once we git there, we still got a long ways to travel.

Let the man go, Lugh tells me. We’re all doin our best.

I let Slim go. You better not be leadin us wrong, I says.

Slim wafts his dress to cool down. My word’s my bond, sister, he says. We’ll be at the Lost Cause by dark.

C’mon, then, I says.

We keep on keepin on. An Lugh keeps on glancin at Maev. He makes sure he’s beside her when we’re haulin the Cosmic. At one point, she loses her footin an he dives to stop her from fallin. But the next moment, when she goes to thank him, he drops her arm like he’s bin scalded an then completely ignores her. I see her frownin to herself. Givin him puzzled looks. An no wonder.

The Cosmic bumps an jolts. Her lanterns swing wildly. Slim winces at the rattle of glass from inside. If she don’t fall apart before we git there, it’ll be a miracle, he says.

Hey, Slim, says Emmi, what’s the Lost Cause like?

It’s what you’d call a lively establishment, he says. Hard hooch, rough grub an wicked wimmin.

You mean whores, says Emmi.

No, he don’t, says Tommo.

Yes, he does, she says. Anyways, I know plenty of ’em.