Relic (6 page)

Chapter Six

The next few moments were a blur of sounds. Panic spread quickly. It was partly helped by the arrival of others rushing down Main Street, shouting for help. Within a few moments, everyone in Burning Mesa seemed to be awake and caught up in the fear.

“It’s at the excavation camp!” someone shouted.

Less than a half mile out of town. The flames would arrive in a matter of minutes.

In my mind, all I saw was fire. Vast, angry orange flames, spreading with unnatural power. Devouring everything in their path. The fire that had destroyed my home. The fire that had killed my parents. Memories I had tried so hard to keep at bay now crashed down on me like a rockslide.

The commotion of the street pulled me back to the moment. Everywhere voices echoed together in the night like thunder.

“Run for your lives!”

“We won’t go down like Haydenville! We’ll fight!”

“Pray for God’s mercy on our souls!”

Nausea rippled through me. I turned dizzily and would have tripped to the ground if a pair of strong arms hadn’t caught me.

Landon.

“You all right, Maggie?”

“Ella.” In spite of the chaos in my head and around me, the only thing that mattered sprang to my lips.

“Ella!” I said again.

Landon looked confused. “Who?”

“My little sister.” I clung to his shirt. “You have to take me to her. Right now!”

“Take you where? I—”

“I’ll run all the way there if I have to.” I turned and broke into a dizzy sprint, but Landon caught up with me. He hooked his arm around my waist to slow me down.

“Maggie! Hang on.”

“No!” I was gripped with horrible visions of the St. Ignacio mission engulfed with flame. “Let me go! I have to save her!”

“I’ll take you,” Landon said, holding my hands, trying to calm me down. “Of course I will. But you gotta relax. You’re going to make yourself faint.”

“I won’t relax. Not until she’s safe in my arms.”

Landon’s eyes met mine, his gaze so sincere that I was thrown off. “We’ll get there in time,” he said. “I give you my word. Just tell me where to go.”

As we pushed through the confusion in the streets, I heard Adelaide shouting for me. I turned to see her and Bobby close behind.

“Thank God you’re all right,” she said, out of breath from running. “We feared the worst.”

“Where you heading?” Bobby asked Landon.

“I’ve got to get my sister,” I said. “We have to hurry.”

Bobby nodded. “We’ll come with you.”

We rode into the night, two horses galloping as fast as they could go. Landon and me astride his horse Titan, with Adelaide and Bobby close behind. I hesitated to put my arms around Landon’s waist at first, but as we bounded over the sagebrush and red sand, I found myself holding tighter. I buried my head into his shirt and whispered again and again, “Please. Please let her be safe.”

When the dim, moonlit outline of St. Ignacio’s rose unscathed over the horizon, my heart nearly burst from my chest. We weren’t safe yet, but at least I hadn’t come too late. I jumped from the saddle before Landon had slowed Titan to a full stop, not even bothering to look back. I didn’t greet any of the friars, who clustered in a panicked mass in the main courtyard. I didn’t stop until I reached Ella. She was sitting on one of the benches in her nightclothes, afraid and alone—but safe.

She spotted me and let out a cry, jumping to her feet. We met halfway in a colliding embrace. With my arms tight around her, I dropped to my knees.

“I’m here,” I whispered. “I’m here.”

“I thought you’d been burned,” she said, her tiny body shaking.

“No. Never. I’d never leave you.”

I stroked her head, kissed her face. It felt like it had been weeks since she did so much as look at me. This newfound tenderness made my heart burst. “We’ll be okay,” I whispered. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “The fathers said Burning Mesa is going to be burned like Haydenville.”

I didn’t know what to say to this, so I pulled her back into my arms. “Whatever happens, we’ll be okay.”

Behind us, the chaos of the friars reminded me that St. Ignacio’s was far from safe. We had to get out of there, head for the mountains or something. The fleeting thought came that I should try and find Yahnuiyo, the Apache brave who’d saved us the last time we’d faced these mysterious fires.

But then the idea seemed crazy. The Chinese man had said the Apaches were the attackers, like he’d seen them with his own eyes. Suddenly, I didn’t know what to believe.

I looked up at Landon, who stood back with Bobby and Adelaide. They watched the doors, antsy to leave. Reluctantly, I broke out of my embrace with Ella.

“I have to talk with these folks here. But you stay right beside me.”

Landon approached me as I stood. “One of the friars is saying the attack is already contained.”

I frowned. “How can that be possible?”

Landon shook his head.

“I still say we get out of here,” Adelaide argued. “You boys ought to know some places we can hide. Somewhere along your trail.”

“It’s too risky,” Landon said. “Those Apaches know the mountains better than we do.”

“Well, it beats staying here and being burned to death.” Adelaide crossed her arms.

Beside me, Ella whimpered, and I pulled her closer. “No one is going to be burned,” I said firmly. “We’ll go on foot if we have to.”

“We need to wait and see what’s happening,” Landon insisted. “The friars said they’ve sent a man into town to find out what’s going on.”

Bobby rubbed his forehead grimly. “I don’t know…”

But at that moment, the decision was made for us. One of the younger friars burst into the courtyard, red-faced and dripping with sweat.

“It’s over,” he cried, panting. “It’s all over.”

“It’s over?” I asked, filled with images of Burning Mesa as nothing but a smoldering pile.

Father Cortez stepped forward. “Tell us what you know, my son.”

“Those Apaches attacked the Chinese excavator’s camp. But Sheriff Leander got there before it spread to Burning Mesa. There’s word they even caught a few of them.”

“So we’re safe, then?” Bobby asked, frowning. “How can we be sure?”

“I saw the camp with my own two eyes,” the younger friar said. “It’s nearly burned to the ground, to be sure, but the flames have been put out, and there’s no sign of any more Apaches.”

Father Cortez kissed his rosary. “Praise to God we have been spared.”

I squeezed Ella’s hand. “You see? We’re safe.”

Given it was such a late hour, and we were too jittery to leave anyhow, Father Cortez agreed to let us all stay the night in the nuns’ wing.

As I tucked the blankets over Ella, I couldn’t help but notice that she looked thinner. I knew the sisters were giving all they could, but it still wasn’t enough. If only
I
could do more.

“Don’t leave me,” she whispered, gripping my hand.

“I won’t, I promise.” I kissed her soft, warm forehead.

“And I wanna keep the candle burnin’,” she said.

I smiled. “Sure, baby girl.”

It was the nickname Jeb always called her. Ella’s eyes flicked to mine, but she didn’t say anything. I knew I could never replace Jeb, but I had a mind to do everything in my power to at least be as good to her as he had been.

I stayed on the edge of the hard little bed as Ella drifted into sleep. Bobby and Adelaide sat up on the cot against the other wall, their hands entwined. Landon took a chair, though he barely sat on the edge, too tense to stay still. All of us were too shaken.

I glanced at Landon. I’d been too hard on him, that much was clear.

“Thank you,” I said softly. “For taking me here. It was a real decent thing to do for a stranger.”

He smiled. “We escaped death together. I wouldn’t call us strangers anymore.”

I couldn’t help but smile back. “I guess you’re right.”

After a pause, Landon motioned to the one other cot in the sparse white room. “You should probably try and get some sleep. It’s awful late.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine.” He fingered the rim of his hat. “Can’t sleep, anyway.”

“Neither can I.”

Adelaide shivered, pulling the worn blanket closer. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sleep again. How can we, when we know those Apaches are out there, waiting to burn us in our beds?”

I winced at her words, though I wasn’t sure if it was out of fear or some strange feeling of loyalty to Yahn.

Bobby put his arms around her. “I won’t let that happen.”

“How can you stop it?”

He traced a finger down the line of her jaw, stroked a loose, pale lock of her hair. “Maybe we should get out of this town once and for all. Get far away from here. You and me.”

“Oh, Bobby.” Adelaide gripped his neck. “I wish we could.”

They began to kiss, and I looked into my lap, embarrassed.

Landon snorted. “And
I
wish I could get far away from you two and your lovemakin’.”

They ignored him, if anything becoming more entangled in their passionate embrace. Landon and I exchanged an uncomfortable smile, shaking our heads. He scooted his chair in front of me. “At least I can block the lady from having to see such things.”

Landon’s knees brushed against mine, and I suddenly found it hard to meet his gaze. For a moment, we were quiet. Then Landon spoke.

“She’s real sweet.” He was looking at Ella, who was sleeping soundly now. I smiled and slid my hand down her cheek.

“I can tell you love her a lot,” he said. “She’s lucky to have you.”

If only he knew that I’d nearly gotten her killed the night of the razing. That I’d let my brother stay behind in the flames and face a terrible death.

“No,” I whispered.

“She is,” he insisted. “You’re giving her everything you can. You’re not…shutting her out in your grief.”

His words drifted off, and I didn’t pursue it, remembering about his pa, who didn’t speak to him.

“I just wish I could give her so much more.” I picked at a stray thread on her blanket. “If I were smarter or clever with a craft, I could earn us enough money to live together somewhere nice. Be a proper family.”

“You seem pretty sharp to me.”

“I’m not. Trust me. My reading and letters are weak. I could never teach. And I can’t sew a button for anything. All I know about are relics, and a lot of good that will do a girl like me, without two pennies to rub together.”

Landon was quiet for a moment, shuffling his hat in his hands. “What happened to your parents?”

The words came slowly. “They died with everyone else in the Haydenville razing.”

Landon exhaled and scraped a hand through his hair. “Aw, Maggie, I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. The tenderness in his voice only sharpened my pain. His warm hand covered mine as he sat back, analyzing me in the dim candlelight. “You’re a brave girl, Maggie. I’m awful glad I stepped out to see the stars tonight.”

My stomach fluttered a little. “I should get some sleep,” I said, too shy to meet his gaze.

“Sounds good.”

I lay down on the stiff cot, turning my back to Landon. But somehow, as I drifted off to sleep, I knew he was watching me.

Chapter Seven

The tension from the night before still simmered in the streets of Burning Mesa the next day, thick as the smell of smoke that hung on the air. But Mr. Connelly insisted that was all the more reason for the show to go on. Adelaide’s weekend revue would continue as planned. I thought it seemed a rotten thing to demand of her after the scare we’d all had, but as usual, the crowds flocked to see Miss Adelaide Price. Apparently a little diversion was just what they were after.

The saloon brimmed to overflowing with drunk miners and rowdy teenage boys. The alcohol flowed, and the poker games hummed. Adelaide’s show was set to start around ten, but by nine the room was packed. I scurried from table to table, taking orders, mopping up spilled drinks, and delivering vittles.

The men, primed for a good time, watched me work with drunken smiles. Some even made lewd comments as I passed. A table of relic polish salesmen from across the Mexican border whistled and called me
bonita
. As I poured them more dragon whiskey, they insisted I was a señorita they’d known back in Nogales.

I shook my head, smiling. “Don’t let this dark hair trick you. I’ve never even been out of the Territory.”

“A shame,
bonita
,” a handsome older man in the group said. “One day, you must see the Hermosillo Relic Fields. They are a sight to behold.”

I nodded, smiling, but inside felt a twinge of sadness that I surely never would. I’d be lucky if I ever got to a new town, let alone a new country.

At that moment, the house lights fell, snuffed out by a gust of wind from Mr. Connelly’s griffin relic. The little three-man-band rattled out a chord of heralding music. Cheers erupted from the audience as the red velvet curtains opened.

But the stage was empty. The murmuring fell quiet as the crowd waited. And waited. Until somebody finally yelled, “Bring her out!”

“Yeah, we want Adelaide!” another cried.

The calls grew louder, and the suspense among the men heightened, until suddenly a single flame, the size of a candle’s flicker, appeared on the empty stage.

“Look!” someone said.

The little flame rippled for a moment, and then, with a flash of orange light, it exploded into an enormous blaze. Gasps of wonder erupted from the audience. And then, with a flourish of the band, Adelaide suddenly burst from the center, her arms flung out.

The crowd went wild.

The flames dropped to a small ring of fire around her. She stood in the center, beaming and bowing. After the cheering had died down a bit, the music started up. Adelaide began to sway her hips. She was draped in a long, fireproof cape, which she slowly began to shimmy out of. First, she revealed her bare shoulders. Then she pulled it up a little to show her legs. The men were howling by now, jumping up from their chairs. Adelaide turned her back to them. Eddie ran his hands up the piano keys in a dramatic glissando, and Adelaide tossed the robe in the air. It burst into a flash of white flames and was gone. Naturally, this only made the men crazier.

Adelaide spun around, dressed in a crimson corset with a skirt only a few inches long in the front that swept back to a fashionable bustle. The whole outfit was styled to suggest the form of a phoenix. Her blond hair was piled high on her head with a red ostrich feather gleaming in it and a red choker wrapped around her slender neck.

A plum-sized oval of gold gleamed from the center of her bodice. A relic. Phoenix bone, sewn right into her costume. Adelaide stroked the mirror-like piece and winked at the audience, looking scandalous but undeniably beautiful. The other girls came on behind her, kicking their legs in the air, and the number went on. I smiled and shook my head as I turned back to my work. Adelaide certainly knew how to put on a show.

Tom passed me, cradling a tray of empty dishes on his arm. “Them high rollers need more dragon whiskey.”

I looked over at the secluded table tucked into a shadowy corner of the saloon, the usual haunt of the wealthy and powerful in the valley. Immediately, I could tell something was amiss. For starters, not a single man there was watching Adelaide’s dance. And while there were cards and poker chips on the tabletop, no one was playing. Instead, they all bent in to speak over the noise, their faces stone serious. And none other than Álvar Castilla sat at the head of the table.

Usually when he came into the saloon, it was with a raucous group of young Haciendos like himself. They drank and laughed and flirted with the prettiest of the dancers. Tonight, however, Álvar seemed all business.

“Whiskey,” Tom snapped, breaking my reverie. He was grouchier than usual tonight.

“Easy now,” I said. “I’m goin’.” Tom snorted and tromped off to the back room.

I smoothed the sweaty strands of hair from my face and surveyed the high rollers’ table again. Álvar spoke to the men with intensity, making tight gestures with his hands. He looked a little more ruffled than I’d seen him last. His black hair was damp with sweat. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his white silk shirt, and his vest was unbuttoned.

A stranger seated beside him caught my eye. He was stroking his bearded face and eyeing Álvar with unease. He was older, mid-fifties perhaps, and he was huge—tall and bulky as a bear. He wasn’t from Burning Mesa, that much I knew. The man reeked of money. It gleamed on his countenance. From the rich, beaver fur–lined coat to the sparkling diamond cuff links on his sleeve to the oiled perfection of his brown hair.

But more than any of that, I noticed the egg-sized relic that topped his walking cane. It gleamed pale yellow, like a piece of moon. Werewolf bone. Not only dazzlingly rare and expensive, but highly illegal. They had once been used by soldiers for the surge of strength and speed they created within the wielder, but the viciousness and bloodlust that inevitably took over proved too hard to keep under control. And too dangerous in the hands of the wrong kind of people. As shadow relics, they had not only been banned, but the government had confiscated most of them long ago. Though I was learning that if you were rich enough, nothing was off-limits.

Keeping an eye on the wealthy stranger, I got the top-shelf dragon whiskey from our bartender.

“Smits,” I asked as he laid the glistening amber bottle in my hand, “who’s that man with Álvar? The filthy rich one.”

Smits adjusted his spectacles and peered over at the high rollers’ table. “Oh, him? That’s Emerson Bolger. He’s some big relic tycoon. Owns half of the mining companies in the Colorado Territory.”

“Does he own the mines here?”

“No, but he sure as hell wants to.”

Smits went back to his work, and I cautiously approached the high rollers. Álvar’s voice drifted toward me over the noise in the saloon.

“The sheriff is unwilling to do what must be done. This is unacceptable to me—to all of us. I say, if he will not do his job to protect this city, then I must.”

My ears burned. I knew I wasn’t meant to hear these words. Luckily, the moment I stepped into the alcove, Álvar looked up, and a smile spread over his face.

“Why, good evening, Miss Davis. It is a pleasure to see you again.”

It seemed strange to have such a handsome and wealthy young man pay any attention to me. I did my best not to act flustered. “Pleasure to see you as well, sir.”

“Please call me Álvar.”

I noticed a few of the men glance at me, half smirking.

“I’d better stick with ‘sir,’” I said, trying to ignore them. “Seein’ as how you’re my boss.”

I poured the dragon whiskey into his goblet. As any good fire relic vintage would, it hissed as it touched the glass, and a slender wisp of smoke curled up. Álvar watched me pour, grinning. I’d never seen such straight white teeth. “And how do you like working here at my fine establishment?” he asked when I’d finished.

“It’s very good, sir. Thank you.”

Álvar laughed. “Señor Bolger,” he said, turning to address the large, opulent stranger who sat beside him. “This is my new employee, Maggie Davis. Maggie, I would like you to meet Emerson Bolger. He is a fellow businessman and investor.”

“Charmed,” Mr. Bolger said, not looking up as he pulled a fat cigar from a gold tin case he carried in his inner pocket.

I bowed my head, and at that moment, a roar went up from the crowd. It was the big finale of Adelaide’s act. She was bursting into flames and reappearing in different places in the saloon. The men loved it and begged for her to show up on their table. When she indulged their pleas, they’d go wild, grabbing for her and throwing their money.

Emerson Bolger took a meditative puff of his cigar. “What about the Apaches who were captured?” His voice was rich and deep as a canyon. “Shouldn’t we interrogate them first?”

I kept my face expressionless and tried to move inconspicuously around the table to fill the rest of the whiskey glasses, listening to every word.

“The prisoners will not speak,” Álvar said. “But there is no need to hear their words. Every man in this room knows why they did it. They made their intention clear last night, attacking our excavators as they slept. The
excavators
, not the miners. Because miners simply dig into the mountain, but without the specially trained excavators, it is impossible to successfully extract the relics from the rock. What more proof do you need, Señor Bolger?”

“I don’t want proof. I want assurance that this kind of thing doesn’t spread to my town, to the other towns where my miners work.”

“Indeed,” Álvar said. “This thought compels all of us.”

I poured slower, staring at the flicker of light on the rim of the glass and reciting the facts again to myself. It
did
seem like proof. Another town. Another fire. Only this time, they’d been caught at the scene of the crime. Come to think of it, the Apaches had been found at the scene of my home’s burning as well.

Why had Yahnuiyo been there in the first place? Everything seemed to add up to one conclusion: it really
was
the Apaches who were burning towns.

But a part of me couldn’t shake the sincerity on Yahn’s face as he insisted on his people’s innocence. Why should I doubt him? He was the reason I still had breath in my body, still had Ella.

“Hey!”

I looked up, startled. A puddle of whiskey shimmered on the floor. Lost in my thoughts, I’d missed the final man’s glass altogether.

“So sorry, sir.”

I bent quickly to sop up the mess. But once I was on my knees, my hand slowed, my focus remaining on the conversation at the table. With the ruckus of Adelaide’s performance ending and the crowd roaring their approval, it was difficult to hear, but I could just make out the voices.

“So what are we supposed to do, then?” one of the men asked. “No one knows where they’re camped. I ’spect they got a mess of goblin relics hiding ’em.”

“Or worse,” Álvar said, letting the ominous words hang in the silence.

An older man at the table cleared his throat. “I thought the Apaches shunned the use of relics. Isn’t that why they’re attacking?”

Álvar snorted. “What they
say
and what they
do
can differ greatly.”

A man with fancy shoes beside him spat on the floor angrily. “Everyone knows them greedy Apaches only say that to throw us off their trail. They want the relics all to themselves. That’s why they’re fightin’ us so hard!”

The men at the table murmured in agreement. I dabbed the rag mindlessly on the ground, my head spinning.

“Miss Davis.”

I sprang to my feet, wide-eyed, but Álvar wore a casual smile with no trace of suspicion or anger. “Would you please find Señor Connelly and ask him to join me here?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you.” He lifted his glass and winked. “And thank you for the good whiskey.”

I took that as a subtle cue that Mr. Connelly alone was to return. After delivering the summons, I got back to my usual chores. I needed time to think, to collect the crush of thoughts in my head. As I cleared some plates and cups away, however, my eyes fell on a distracting face.

Landon Black.

He sat a few tables away, laughing with Adelaide’s dark-haired cowboy. Drinking. Gambling. One of the upstairs girls, a curvy redhead named Dora, stood behind his chair with her hands on his shoulders. As I watched, she leaned closer to whisper something in his ear, and they both laughed. I grabbed for a stack of dirty glasses. I’d heard cowboys kept a gal in every town. Appeared the rumors were true.

I didn’t want to see any more, and I certainly didn’t want him to spot me. I worked fast as I could, but as I reached for the final glass on the table, Landon glanced to his side, and our eyes met.

I straightened with a snap. The cup slipped from my hands, and though I fumbled to catch it, whiskey splashed over the freshly cleaned table. Landon rose from his chair and made a move toward me, but I pivoted, lunging in the opposite direction, and crashed right into a patron. The man staggered back, flailing his arms. Then with a shout, he tumbled onto the table behind him, sending drinks flying everywhere and glass crashing to the floor.

Tom pushed his way over. “What in the hell’s goin’ on here?”

“Nothing,” I said, my face heating up all the way to my ears. “I’ve got it.”

“Jeez, Maggie, we got a full house tonight. You need to watch where you’re going.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, walking away. I bent to clean up the mess, my breath tight with frustration.

“Need some help there, ma’am?”

Landon’s voice sent a cringe through me. “No,” I said, not looking up. “No, thank you.”

He started to gather some broken glasses anyway. “I didn’t mean to put you out of sorts.”

“Yes, well, you shouldn’t…” I caught my mistake. “I mean, you didn’t put me out of sorts. I didn’t even see you. My hand slipped, that’s all.”

Landon failed miserably at suppressing a smile. I should have wanted to shove him, and yet, a smiled twitched at my own lips. To cover it, I elbowed his arm.

He laughed. “Hey, don’t blame me if you’ve got butterfingers.”

I searched for a witty reply but found myself struck dumb by the way he smiled. Looking me over that way, like a man who knew what he wanted and knew how to get it. I blinked hard and stood, cradling my apron, which was filled with pieces of glass. With my hand, I nudged a strand of hair from my eyes. “I’d better put these away.”