Relic (4 page)

I spent the entire day scouring Burning Mesa for a job. But again and again, I was turned back out on the streets with the same answer: no work.

When I dragged myself back to St. Ignacio’s that night, Ella was already lying in bed, her back turned to me. She’d hardly spoken to me in the last three weeks. I sat down on the creaking little mattress and stroked her shoulder.

“When are we leaving this place?” she asked, still not looking at me. “I wanna go home.”

“We can’t go home. You know that.”

I heard a little sniffle and realized she was crying. My heart sank.

“We’ll start a new home,” I said, squeezing her arm. “You’ll see. I’ll get some work and find us a nice new place to live.”

Even as I spoke the words, they felt like an empty promise.

Ella sniffed again, pulling away from my touch. “Jeb wouldn’t have us stay in this lonely old place.” She was silent for a moment before adding in barely a whisper, “Why couldn’t you pull him up?”

Her words were like a knife in the gut. We’d been through it before. I’d explained how Yahnuiyo, the Apache warrior, couldn’t have lifted both of us, how Jeb made him take me instead. But I knew those explanations meant little to Ella. She wanted Jeb, not me. And it was my fault he was gone.

I stepped away from the bed. My vision blurred with tears as I stumbled blindly down the hall, the stuffy mission air suddenly seeming to choke me. I found my way out into the courtyard and pressed my back to the cool adobe wall. Staring up at the stars, I tried to breathe.

Ella was right. I wasn’t as good as Jeb, and I certainly could never replace Mama and Papa. Maybe if I were older or skilled or smarter, I could give Ella the home she needed. Heavy-hearted, I twisted the rose Álvar Castilla had given me between my fingers. A warm night wind carried the flower’s sweet scent across my face. It was time to accept my situation for what it was and do whatever it took to survive.

I sighed deeply. Tomorrow I would take the job.

Chapter Four

Late at night, The Desert Rose took on a solemn mood. Most of the men had either drifted home—drunk and broke—or had slid upstairs to lay down their money for a bit of “feminine company.” A few stragglers played cheerless rounds of poker, sipping their whiskey with furrowed brows. The room smelled of men and alcohol and cheap perfume, but at least the crowds were gone.

I wiped the empty tables with a white cloth, reveling in the peace that had come at last. The only sound was “The Red River Valley” drifting from the saloon piano, jingling on the air like warm memories. Eddie, the piano player, was a dark, quiet man who didn’t fit in here. We shared that in common. He played the popular ditties and tunes as he was paid to do, but once in a while he’d start making the most beautiful, sad music I’d ever heard. Music so sad it made me think of Mama and Papa and Jeb until I wept.

Leaning on the edge of the piano, I asked him to play me one of those.

Eddie glanced around the room. “There’re still customers, Miss Maggie. I’d better give them some cheery tunes, seeing as how they’re probably tired and broke.”

“Please,” I said. “It’ll help me clean up this mess.”

It had been an especially raucous night. Adelaide Price had starred in the musical revue, and she always drew a big crowd. Then a large group of railroad workers showed up to make an already full house even fuller. They were passing through town to replace the centaur relic in the engine of the locomotive, a task for which they demanded plenty of fanfare and special privileges. When their foreman commandeered the saloon’s last three bottles of dragon whiskey, however, folks decided they’d had about enough, and a brawl broke out. Now, broken bottles and cards were scattered everywhere.

Eddie scratched the back of his neck but then smiled. “Okay. One song. Just for you.”

He understood me. I figured he must have seen his share of sorrows, too.

As I bent and scrubbed the floors, the melancholy music filled me. I thought about my parents and my poor, sweet brother until I ached all over. It had been more than a month since they died, but the pain hadn’t much gone away. If anything, it had only gotten worse, given my present circumstances: working long hours here at The Desert Rose, sleeping in the back room attached to the kitchens. It was no place for Ella, so the nuns at St. Ignacio had generously agreed to keep her there. I sent them all of the money I got from work and visited whenever I had the chance, but it still didn’t feel like enough. The days in between passed in long stretches of quiet loneliness and drudgery. In those moments, I missed Mama and Papa and Jeb more than I could bear.

By the time I swept the final bits of broken glass into the dustpan, my eyes stung with tears. I carried the pan outside, hoping to hide my sorrows in the shadows behind the saloon. The sight of the night sky, so vast and shimmering with stars, did my heart some good. In a childish way, I liked to imagine my family up there, keeping an eye on me. But even still, as I gazed at the perfect sky, listening to Eddie’s sad, beautiful music, I felt alone. So very alone.

“Lovely evenin’.”

The voice jarred me out of my thoughts, nearly making me fling the pan of broken glass from my hand.

It was a male’s voice. Sounded like a young buck, about my age. He stepped from the dark into a panel of orange light the windows had cast on the dirt. He was tall and lean with fair hair and a wide smile.

As he came closer, however, the smile faded. “Say, what’s wrong?”

I realized that tears still wet my cheeks, and I swiftly wiped them away. “Nothing.”

“You were crying. Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

He made a look of playful, exaggerated distress. “Did some varmint trample on your heart? Tell me where he is, and I’ll give him a what for.”

This made me laugh a little. “It’s nothing like that. But thanks, anyway.”

He grinned, and I felt a flicker of heat in my face. I didn’t recognize him; he certainly wasn’t one of the regulars. And I’d never seen him around town. He was probably one of those railroad workers and would be leaving for Tucson at first light.

“Did you break something important?” he asked, motioning to my pan. “Is that why you’re upset?”

“You really want to figure this out, don’t you?” I said, both amused and exasperated.

He stepped closer. “A man doesn’t like the sight of a pretty girl crying.”

I tried to laugh dismissively, though it sounded more like a cough.

“I’m Landon,” he said, bending his head to try and meet my eye. “Landon Black. What’s your name?”

His attention put me off sorts, and I shifted to the side. “I need to get to work.”

“Now don’t be like that,” he said. “I only want your name.”

I put my free hand on my hip. “What’s it matter to you? I know you’re one of those rail workers, only passing through for the night. What do you care what my name is or why I’m crying?”

“Does a man need a reason to talk to a pretty girl?”

“I’m not a pretty girl.” I made a move to leave. “And you’re no man.”

“I’m eighteen,” he said, stepping in my path. “A man by anyone’s reckoning.”

I raised an eyebrow, and he grinned, folding his arms.

“Tell you what,” he said. “You give me two more guesses as to why you were crying. If I win, I get to know your name.”

A smile pulled irrepressibly at my lips, and when I didn’t refuse, Landon must have taken it as a yes. “Let’s see now,” he said, folding his arms and tapping his chin with one finger, analyzing me. “You say your heart wasn’t broken, but maybe you broke a heart and you feel bad about it. That’s it. A girl like you probably breaks three hearts a week.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Flattery is the devil’s trick, stranger.”

“Ah, so she’s a Sunday School goer. A Sunday School goer working in a saloon? Aren’t you a puzzle.”

“I sweep the floors and wipe tables,” I said defensively. “I ain’t one of the girls, if that’s what this is all about.”

He held up his hands. “Didn’t think it for a minute.”

My pride was still ruffled. “I need to get back to work, now that you mention it.”

“Wait,” he said, jumping in front of the door to block me. “Don’t leave. I’ve got the answer. I know why you were crying.”

I folded my arms. “Oh, you do?”

The smirk faded from his face. This close, I could see sincerity suddenly pour into his pale blue eyes. Without a word, he took the pan full of glass from my hand and set it on the ground. Then he stood directly in front of me, looking straight into my eyes.

“You lost someone very close to you.”

My stomach tightened, and I took a step back. “How did…?”

“It’s easy to recognize a sorrow you’ve felt yourself.”

His words halted me in place. I stared at him, trying to figure this boy out.

“Who did you lose?” he asked, filling the silence.

It wasn’t proper to speak of such things, especially not to a stranger. But in spite of this, a reckless feeling flashed through me. I wanted to confide in Landon. Maybe it was because I knew I’d never see him again—he’d be gone forever on the morning train. Maybe it was sheer loneliness—I hadn’t really talked with another person aside from Eddie since I came to Burning Mesa. And I certainly hadn’t talked with anyone about my loss, about my guilt at having survived. The weight of it had been slowly crushing me from the inside.

My heart beat hard, sorrow rushing fresh into it. I set a hand on the outer wall of the saloon and sank onto one of the wood crates piled out back. “My parents and my brother. Two brothers, actually.”

“I’m real sorry to hear that.”

Somehow, just sharing that one thing made my burden feel a little lighter.

“And you?” I asked.

Landon scraped a hand through his sandy hair. I recognized the pain in his eyes. Coming to sit beside me on the crates, he sighed. “My ma. This last winter. It hit Pa real hard. He…he hasn’t said but three words since.”

“I’m so sorry.”

He tried to smile, but he still looked mournful. He turned his eyes to the sky. “I thought I was the only one who tried to search for lost loved ones in the stars.”

“Is that why you came out here?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Pastor said I can speak to her through prayers, but I haven’t had much luck. Guess I’m not righteous enough.”

“I don’t believe that.”

He smiled. “You don’t know me very well.”

“I have a pretty good sense of people.”

He tilted his head slightly to the side. “I reckon you do.”

I smiled, lowering my gaze. He bent his head down again to try and meet it. “So will you tell me your name now?”

At that moment, the back door was flung open, smacking against the wall. Landon and I both spun around with a start. Tom, the bouncer, appeared from the glow of the inside lights.

“What kind of riffraff—?” Then his eyes fell on me. “Maggie?”

Tom had a stern face and black hair, which he wore cropped short in an attempt to mask his Apache features. I suppose he couldn’t get work anywhere else, given his race. And he only got his job here at The Rose because Connelly thought troublemakers would be more afraid of a big Apache man.

I jumped to my feet. “Tom—”

“What in the devil is going on out here?” he said. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

I motioned to the pan of broken glass on the floor. “I—I had to—”

“It’s my fault,” Landon said, rushing to his feet as well. “I kept her.”

“You get on out of here, boy,” Tom growled. “She ain’t one of the gals. She earns her pay cleanin’, not yappin’ with the likes of you.”

My face burned as I grabbed the pan and turned to go back inside.

“I meant no trouble,” Landon insisted. “I only wanted to know her name.”

“Find another gal,” Tom snapped. “This one’s busy.”

As Tom pulled me back inside, I dared a look behind me. It seemed silly, but my heart sank a little, knowing I’d never see Landon Black again. He reached his arm out and seemed to say one last thing, some meaningful parting phrase, but the door swung shut behind us, and he was gone.

“You’re in a
heap
of trouble,” Tom said, still gripping my arm. He was usually kind to me, and so, seeing him this mad, I knew I was in for it.

“I didn’t mean to stay out so long. I’m sorry, Tom.”

“Don’t try and apologize to me. Connelly’s the one spittin’ mad.”

Connelly. My stomach knotted. He’d gotten no more polite or decent since I first clashed with him in the Relic Refinery—having him as my boss had been one of the biggest downsides of working at The Desert Rose. Gritting my teeth, I prepared for another dock to my wages, or perhaps extra hours of cleaning detail.

Just before we entered the main room of the saloon, however, we nearly collided with Adelaide Price.

She was dressed in a high-necked white blouse and a simple black skirt. But an evening cloak was draped over her shoulders, and for a moment, her eyes widened, as if caught in the act of something.

“Where do you think
you’re
goin’?” Tom asked.

Quick as it had arrived, the panic slid from Adelaide’s face. “Why, I was looking for Maggie,” she said, smiling. “We’d planned to take a little stroll this evening, didn’t we, Maggie?”

She shot me a look, and I caught the slightest hint of pleading in her eyes.

I had been working at The Desert Rose for almost a month and had made a point not to mingle with the less-than-savory characters—which was pretty much everyone except for Eddie—but Adelaide had been friendly to me from day one. I didn’t know why. Not only was she the star of the weekend revue, but she was also the belle of the county. With her sapphire eyes and hair the color of corn silk, she had more men in love with her than I’d imagined possible.

All of the other dancer girls tried to get in good with her, figuring she had more political sway than even Mr. Connelly. I had mixed feelings about her friendliness to me. She seemed real nice, but I knew very well what she did in her upstairs suite. Mama would have called it disgraceful to associate with a person like her, and yet was I such a grand, important person to shun a friendly advance from anyone?

And so, in that moment, seeing her need, I found myself lying for her. “That’s right,” I said to Tom. “I was trying to tell you, but you didn’t give me a chance.”

“I already cleared it with Connelly,” Adelaide said. “You know how he feels about us girls getting regular fresh air and exercise.”

Tom twisted his lips to the side, unsure. Adelaide set a hand on Tom’s arm and flashed him a coy look through her dark lashes. It was her trademark flirtation, a look I’d seen her bestow on many a gentleman caller.

“Aw, come on now, Tom. You know I’m innocent as a lamb. We’ll take a turn around the block and be back before you can blink twice.”

Tom had witnessed the charms of Adelaide Price for far longer than I had, and yet he still visibly softened. “Go on then,” he said, trying to sound gruff but failing. “Make it quick.”

“Sure thing,” Adelaide said with a wink. She then linked her arm in mine. “Come along, Maggie.”

We stepped out the back door. At a safe distance from The Desert Rose, Adelaide turned a smile on me. “Thanks a bunch, Mags. I knew you were a smart thing.”

I shrugged. “I didn’t want to see you punished by that awful Mr. Connelly.”

“Oh, him? The old buzzard. I’m not afraid of him.”

I laughed a little, wishing I could share her confidence. “Well,” I said, “I guess I’ll let you get on to wherever you were headed.”

Adelaide pressed her arm, still laced with mine, against her side. “Stay. Why don’t we take that walk, after all? I’d like to get to know you better.”

I hesitated, but Adelaide led us on with a casual smile, and I didn’t see any way of politely backing out. I supposed even I wasn’t immune to her charm.

We headed along Main Street and down a back alley. After a while, the rushing sound of water and the damp, swampy smell revealed our destination. Adelaide led me down a wide, brushy bank, choked with sage and cattails, to a secluded alcove in the river where a round pool was tucked away from the main flow of water. Mesquite trees rustled gently in the wind, and crickets sang, hidden in the dark brush.