The Twisting (12 page)

Mistress Gere sighed. “He promised three days with six Eradicator machines. Wellspring only had the funds to purchase three.”

“It may be six days, then,” said Mr. Hortens. “We’ll hold out, if the guard teams are able to keep the gobblers in check as they have the past few days.” He waved to the Harvester and then Mr. Brightwell. “And with what Horatio thinks is possible,
harvesting
the beasts. But if they fail…” He shrugged. “Any longer and I cannot make promises for the fall crop.”

And if they did fail, what would happen to Wellspring? Annmar bit her inner lip.

Mistress Gere nodded to the head grower. “As soon as Master Brightwell is done with their help, the growers are yours again to prepare for tomorrow’s Market Day.”

“Such as it will be,” muttered Mr. Hortens.

“We’ll present our best. It’s no more or less than others in the community are doing.” She gave him a wry smile.

“Though perhaps I can keep Henry here?” Master Brightwell asked. “He’s seen enough of our workshop operation to assist Rivley while I’m gone tomorrow. I’d like to switch over the optics and pincers on those two other Harvesters we sold here in the Basin. Scarpel’s Farm and Great Harvest also might have a chance to clear their pests without becoming indebted to Shining.”

Mistress Gere and Mr. Hortens nodded simultaneously, then the lady turned an eye toward Annmar. “A word, please?”

What could it be? From the serious look on Mistress Gere’s face, nothing good. Annmar followed her out of the others’ hearing. Their paces up the hill to the farmyard seemed to take ages longer than they should have.

Mistress Gere cleared her throat. “I did not take Mr. Shining’s loan, but in order to not be indebted to him, I have spent all the Collective’s available funds.”

Dread filled Annmar’s gut even before Mistress Gere put a hand on her shoulder.

“Your drawings are beyond the quality I dared dream, but now I cannot afford to continue with the advertising campaign. It pains me, but once you recover and your trial is complete, I can no longer keep you on.”

chapter FOURTEEN

Mistress Gere’s apology
for letting her go hardly registered with Annmar. Her head fogged, blocking the farm owner’s words.

What was she to do? This place, her friends… Hadn’t Mary Clare said that with her talent she should seek artistic work here? Miriam had said Mother’s art had grown in popularity. Of course, with everyone’s crops under attack, nobody would have extra money for a while, but if she could just find a way to hold on…

“Annmar?” Mistress Gere gave a tired smile. “I don’t think you heard me. I will provide your room and board here until you can complete your trial.”

A mumbled thanks was all Annmar’s stuttering head could manage.

“Six days ago when I asked you to stay, I believed Maxillon’s prediction we’d have the fields cleared with their hired help, if not in a week, then by the end of the next week. Now Daeryn tells me the vermin numbers have only increased. Again, I’m sorry.” Mistress Gere’s lips pressed tight. “I think I’d best follow up on my Eradicator delivery.”

“Mistress Gere?” Annmar had to say something, or she wouldn’t forgive herself. “I don’t know exactly how to explain this, but when you said Mr. Shearing nearly persuaded you to take a loan, I realized he almost persuaded me to leave with him. I certainly didn’t want to, but”—Annmar lifted her arm—“the touch of his bare fingers confused my thinking until I forced him away. Did he touch you?”

“Other than a handshake, no,” she said thoughtfully. “My thinking was clear, beyond a moment or two of wanting to save Wellspring, no matter what the cost. At the point we discussed the second option of a loan, he sat on the other side of my desk. I dismissed it, thinking instead I’d rather buy an additional three Eradicators to solve Wellspring’s pest problem. I would still like to.”

Curious. While Mr. Shearing’s touch hadn’t caused same reaction in Mistress Gere, she did admit to being persuaded to purchase more equipment from him—then and now. Even after Annmar had relayed the businessman’s questionable practices and the rest of her employees had agreed.

“Thank you for your concern.” Mistress Gere patted her shoulder. “I will pass on the background of his Outside policies to my fellow consortium members—discreetly, of course—so they may ask the appropriate questions. Perhaps, as a younger woman, you felt swayed by his prominence Outside.”

Annmar watched her go. Yes, she’d been swayed, but not by Mr. Shearing’s position. When she’d first started working for Rennet’s Renditions, she had seen him as one of Derby’s finest businessmen. That lasted only until she’d learned he used manipulative tricks to gain his status. Then, she’d thought he relied on his powerful way with words. Now, she suspected it was more, but what exactly had he done to control her?

Movement outside Wellspring’s gates drew her attention. A figure marched up the drive. Annmar’s stomach twisted. Daeryn. With no job here she’d be leaving Daeryn, before ever knowing if she liked—oh, heavens, she did like him. But what might that lead to? If only…

A plan fell into place. “Mistress Gere?”

The lady also had seen Daeryn’s approach and stopped. Her attention returned to Annmar.

“Could I…could I stay here longer? Continue to draw for you in exchange for room and board while I build a clientele at Chapel Hollow’s Market Day?”

Mistress Gere tilted her head. “Market Day won’t continue all winter, nor can I promise the Collective could support additional workers if we cannot reap some return this fall, but…” She cast a look toward the orchard. “The tree crops aren’t ruined. It makes sense to push forward with those goods until you can find other work and resettle.”

“I’ll work full time to have the orchard products’ advertising ready as soon as possible.”

A smile broke over Mistress Gere’s face. “I cannot accept full-time employment for only room and board. Two days’ work a week will be sufficient for as fast as you work.”

Annmar smiled in return and stuck out her hand. “You have a deal.”

“I can only hope others don’t steal you away before Wellspring is back on its feet.”

“Then let’s keep the arrangement between us. I would prefer not to make explanations before I have a firm plan.”

“Agreed. And now, my dear, I must go see to the next matter on today’s growing list.”

She walked around the main house, striding purposefully to intercept Daeryn. Annmar didn’t dare follow.

* * *

Daeryn’s shoulders sagged
as he passed through Wellspring’s stone pillars. Thank the Creator he’d made it back to the farm without the constable spotting him. He’d carried the stunner vertical to his side, hoping no one else in town would stop him either. Now he had to report to Miz Gere.

The owner appeared crossing the front lawn, shaking her head. “What have you done, my boy?”

Daeryn met her gaze. “Only escorted the bastard to the hotel.”

Her brow lifted.

“I wish it’d been the train. Caught him in the act of trying to coerce Annmar to accompany him, and when she refused, he tried to force her.”

The lady shot a look toward town. The firming of her jaw and vexed scent told Daeryn she didn’t like it. But she needed to know what he’d seen, what he’d stopped.

Miz Gere uttered a rare curse and hissed, “No wonder the poor girl made the request.” Before Daeryn could ask what she meant, Miz Gere narrowed her piercing eyes. “How did you know Annmar was in distress? Weren’t you sleeping?”

Damn. He clenched his hand around the stunner’s cold metal, glad he had a hold of something that kept his human form steady under the onslaught of her furious odor.

“I’ve given her space, as you requested. Except…” Let her challenge his decision. He wasn’t sorry to have done it. His chin rose. “This morning she made an overture to me. She hugged me, and”—nothing for it—“instinct took over. I scent-marked her, so my ’cambire side knew when she was in distress. I can’t stand aside any longer. I feel that strongly about her.”

The lady sighed. “I see. I have no business in this if she’s coming to you. Please be…considerate.”

He smiled. “I will.”

“Now, about Mr. Shining?”

“He said naught. Didn’t even look over his shoulder. I, er…” Daeryn swallowed. “I could have left him at the end of the drive. Sorry.”

“I’m not.”

He startled at the snapped reply.

“Later today he’ll deliver the machines I’ve paid for, or he’ll default, giving me reason to run him out of town and besmirch his name across the Basin’s agricultural community.”

With a wave, Miz Gere marched to the front door, entered the farmhouse and slammed the door behind her.

He stared after her. Coupled with the words, the lady’s scent indicated more. Wrath and nervousness, he supposed.

She wasn’t angry with him. He still had a job…
if
they resolved this. He had to get some sleep, after he made sure Annmar was unharmed by that bastard. He hefted the stunner and tromped around the orchard side of the house.

“Daeryn?” came a quiet call.

His head shot up. From around a boxwood at the corner, a figure appeared, and in seconds Annmar flung herself against him.

This time she stayed.

She was soft, softer than his human body had realized. His free arm went around her shoulders and molded her curves to his chest, his nose dipping to the silk of her curls. He inhaled deeply, his ’cambire senses giddy with the fresh earth scent and warmth of her. Before he could ease the stunner to the ground and do a right job of returning her hug, she pulled back and stood with just her fingertips on his forearms.

“Oh, Daeryn, what happened when you left?”

He blinked. Couldn’t it be more than fingertip touching?

“Did he leave town?” she whispered. “He didn’t threaten you, did he?”

No, hugging wasn’t the top thing on her mind. Daeryn shook his head, half-trying to clear it, but then Annmar trailed her fingers down his arms, and Daeryn thought he’d melt into the grass and flow through the ground to sink deeply into the dark, quiet bliss of having her care for him.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Is he still bringing the machines? Mistress Gere didn’t—”

He put a finger to her lips. “Walk with me to put away the stunner.” He dropped his hand, knowing he had to be patient, but couldn’t stop himself from touching the small of her back as they turned to go. He nearly stumbled when she tucked her hand through the crook of his arm. It must be the proper city thing to do.

“She didn’t dismiss you?”

“No. She thanked me.” After he returned his stunner to the workshop, they stood in the sun of the quiet farmyard, and he told her what happened. “And you’re…fine?”

She smoothed her hands down her bib-and-brace. “As well as can be expected, thank you.”

He frowned. The proper reply told him nothing. Mary Clare would get it out of her, and Rivley out of Mary Clare…except those two weren’t speaking. A nervous scent wafted from Annmar, and for once her face broke its usual porcelain look.

“I… It was horrible seeing him again. Thank you for coming to assist me. I hope in the future to learn some skills to protect myself.”

The very thought of those
skills
made him shift back a step. But females needed those protections and others, as Jac had suggested a few nights ago. “Jac would be happy to help you.”

Annmar smiled. “She’s just the person I had in mind to ask.”

“Good. She would return the favor of your healing in any way possible.”

A loud bang, followed by a coarse
brrrupt, brrupt, brrupt,
ripped through the afternoon. Annmar jumped, and he whirled in a half-crouch, already pulling at his shirttail. Clouds of steam billowed from between the sheds. An engine. Daeryn straightened.

“They’re trying to start it,” Annmar shouted. “Come on.” She plucked at his sleeve, and together they trotted down the dirt road. The rough sounds cut off by the time they rounded the building corner.

Next to the Harvester, Master Brightwell frowned and adjusted something within the engine. He waved to Rivley, who rotated a wheel to open the main steam valve.

Brrupp-ppp-pppp.
The engine turned over, caught and began humming more smoothly. The boys gave a shout, and Master Brightwell broke into a grin. Rivley used a wrench on an inlet valve, then after more turnings of the two valves, and a few bursts of condensation, the engine settled into exhausting a steady mist that floated off into the trees. Master Brightwell cocked his head and so did Rivley, listening. At once, they both darted with their oilcans to the same gear and broke into laughter.

Annmar smiled with them as Rivley stepped back, and the inventor daubed the gear with a splash of oil. Eyeing the Harvester’s nearest three legs, Master Brightwell flipped a set of levers on a control panel. The long, bent joints, like a grasshopper’s jumping leg, creaked. For a second, the entire machine shuddered.

Everyone shuffled back.

With the levers off again, the mechanics plied oil to each leg’s “elbow,” then, giving each other simultaneous nods, Master Brightwell once again moved the levers. With a screeching groan, the legs elongated, and the huge engine rose to perch a good seven feet in the air.

Annmar slipped from Daeryn’s side, apparently unconcerned by the noise and bulk of the machine, to join Master Brightwell while he applied more glistening oil. Meanwhile, Rivley ambled over, his amber gaze searching intently. “You were with her when the man attacked her?”

Daeryn met his look straight on and shook his head once.

“Spying on her?”

He rolled his eyes.

Rivley knocked him in the shoulder. “You’ve scent-marked her. Does she know?”

His voice was pitched a little high, same as early this morning, meaning the avian was still agitated. “Annmar was so upset, she didn’t even ask how I sensed her distress. But…”

“But what?”

Daeryn let out his breath. “I’ll tell her if she thinks to ask. And I know it can’t go any further at this point. Leading the team must come first. I’ve got to keep my head clear.”

Rivley crossed his arms and surveyed him, finally giving a small nod. “That’s quite…mature, coming from you.”

Daeryn didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he watched Annmar striding around the machine, her head bent with Master Brightwell’s in concentration. She nodded at his stream of explanation, her brown curls trailing over her shoulders.

“Fine,” Riv muttered. “I admit she’s worthy. But what if she never lets you mark—really
mark—
her as pack? Would you still feel the same way?”

He closed his eyes, shuttering out the stare of the one person who knew him best. Why did Rivley have to ask what he’d been afraid to ask himself? Yet it had to be asked. And answered. Sometime. Annmar was…the image came of her dressed in her smart city travel clothes with her hair pinned high, far out of reach of a country boy. But the vision was not his instinctual reality. When she’d thrown herself against him minutes ago, she’d been soft and warm in his arms, smelling like freshly dug earth, the flowers of the meadows, the woods in fall. Even during his surreptitious snuggling in bed, her body beside his ’cambire form hadn’t been a strange experience with a different sort of species. To him, she was the smell and feel of home.