CHAPTER ONE Lizbeth
Eli was working, so I met the train at Sweetwater
by myself. I’d just returned from guarding a shipment of farm
implements on a leg of its journey between Canada and Mexico; I’d had to
travel to take the job, but it had been ten days of work, and
lucrative. And it had gotten me out of the house.
All of which meant I could afford to rent the old car from the Segundo Mexia stables and drive to Sweetwater to meet the train.
The
station at Sweetwater was little more than a shack clinging to a
platform, but at least there were a couple of benches under a roof. I
was grateful for the shade. It was June, and June in Texoma is hot and
dry… unless it rains. Then it’s hot and steamy. Today was a dry day.
The
stationmaster, a sprightly sixty-ish woman named Molly Lerma, came out
of the shack to sit with me. I expect she was glad of the company.
“You’re Jackson and Candle’s daughter, ain’t you?” she asked, and spat into an old can positioned at her feet.
“Candle’s
daughter and Jackson’s stepdaughter. Lizbeth Rose. Lizbeth Rose
Savarova, now.” My outlandish married name still got a lot of stares in
Texoma, which used to be Texas and Oklahoma, more or less.
Molly Lerma gave me the expected long stare. “You the one married that wizard?”
I
wasn’t going to tell her that Eli was a grigori, not a wizard,
especially since I wasn’t sure there was a big difference. “Eli
Savarov,” I said. I didn’t tack the “Prince” on first because it just
sounded silly.
“And he wanted to live in Texoma?”
I wasn’t
surprised Molly sounded incredulous. Texoma was poor, remote, and the
smallest of the five countries created when the United States had fallen
apart.
“He did,” I said, and left it at that.
“How’s Jackson doing? I knew him from school,” the stationmaster said. She spat again.
“He’s doing well.” Jackson had worked hard and carved himself out a position of power in Segundo Mexia, our little town.
Molly smiled. She was missing some important teeth. “Jackson always was a go-getter.”
I
nodded and smiled back, hoping the conversation was at an end. Not that
I minded talking about my stepfather. I was real fond of Jackson
Skidder. He’d taught me how to shoot and given me my Colts. Couldn’t ask
for anything better than my Colt 1911s. I had to stop myself from
reaching down to pat them. Jackson had been way more of a dad to me than
my actual father, whom I’d only met once, the day I killed him.
After
a pleasant few minutes of silence, I asked Molly if the train was on
time. She said, “I reckon.” That was the end of our conversation. Which
suited me. I had a lot to think about.
I was waiting at the train
station to pick up my half sister Felicia, who was coming in from San
Diego (capital of the Holy Russian Empire) with Eli’s brother Peter. Not
only had Eli and I not had company since we’d been married, but Felicia
was over fifteen, and Peter was eighteen and a bit. The last time I’d
seen them, they’d been sweet on each other. Their sleeping arrangements
were kind of up in the air.
Also, though my half sister (same
father, different mother) had started life in a Mexican slum, she was an
educated city girl now. Segundo Mexia, my hometown, was humble and
small, as Eli had carefully not said during the past few months. After
we’d come home married and built the addition to my cabin and Eli had
begun scouting around for work, I’d seen lots of mouth-tightening and
tense shoulders. He was having a hard time adjusting.
During
their stay, would Peter and Felicia be content to hunt with me or
practice magic with Eli? Did you have to entertain company?
I
knew that moving dirt, finding water, and warding businesses was not
what Eli, now Prince Savarov, had planned to do as a grigori. In his
life in San Diego, Eli had been in Tsar Alexei’s service. He’d had
access to the palace and a relationship with the royal family. He’d had
good friends among the other grigoris, the top of the magic hierarchy.
He’d had a disagreeable but powerful partner named Paulina. He’d been
able to visit his mother and sisters and Peter. He’d lived in the
grigori dormitory. He’d been independent and important and on the way
up.
Now Eli lived in Segundo Mexia with me, doing work that was
anything but exalted. The people in my little town were just getting
over regarding Eli with suspicion. Grigoris were not highly regarded in
Texoma, unlike in the Holy Russian Empire. Of course, Eli lived with me,
his wife, and I had only a trace of magic. I was a gunnie. I made my
living—our living—with my shooting. In Texoma, that had more prestige.
Eli hadn’t complained about any of this. It was the silence that worried me.
If
I ran out of concerns about my husband, I could fret about how my
mother would feel when she met Felicia, the other daughter of my father.
I’d been conceived when Oleg Karkarov raped my mother. Later, back in
Mexico, Oleg had married Felicia’s mother before Felicia had come along.
My mother had been beautiful; Felicia’s mother had been the scion of
Mexico’s most prominent witch family.
I could see a black dot way down the tracks. I breathed out, relieved and worried and happy.
“Thar
she comes,” Molly Lerma said. “Right on time.” She sounded triumphant,
as if I’d told her I doubted the train would arrive.
“Right on time,” I agreed.
Hooting
and screeching, the train came to a stop at the little station. Old
Mrs. Guthrie got off first. Molly Lerma helped her down the steps. Mrs.
Guthrie carried an ancient carpetbag and a cage with a bird in it. You
would have thought she was carrying a horse, the fuss she made.
I
was on my feet and waiting impatiently for her to clear the way,
because I knew my sister would be next off. Felicia propelled herself
from the steps, and I caught her, and we laughed and held each other,
and she cried a little before she drew back. Felicia was so grown-up! So
pretty! We didn’t look alike… but we did, in some ways.
By that
time, Peter had gotten off, too. He was carrying two modest suitcases.
He gave me a quick hug and a peck on the cheek before looking up and
down the little platform. “Where’s Eli?” he said.
“Oh, my God!”
Felicia was bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet. There was
more of her to bounce than there had been a few months ago, especially
in the chest department. “We’re here! We’re out of the city!”
That
made me feel a little better. “I’m really glad to see you,” I said.
“Peter, Eli’s working, but he’ll be home soon. Maybe by the time we get
there.”
Peter smiled. That turned him into a man you’d look at a second time.
My half sister sure looked… and smiled back.
“This all your luggage?” I pointed at the two bags Peter carried.
“Peter said I had to travel light.” Felicia was still bouncing.
I
asked Peter to put the bags in the car, and after some exclaiming over
the luxury of getting to ride—which was a real luxury in Texoma, they
both realized—Peter tossed the bags into the trunk, and we admired the
car, which had been created out of bits and pieces of vehicles that had
gone before. The body had come from a Ford, but the doors had been
grafted on from another car line, and so on.
“Let’s get going,” I said. I opened the driver’s door. Peter went around to the other side.
“Who is your doctor?” Peter asked as he slid into the front seat.
“What doctor?” I sounded angry, and I knew it. I couldn’t help it. I was going to have to talk about what had happened.
They both froze. They glanced at each other. Then back at me.
Felicia said, very slowly, very cautiously, “Lizbeth, it seems to Peter and me that you are pregnant.”
“I’m not,” I said, and then I fainted.
It
only took me a minute to come around, and then I scrambled to my feet,
weaving as I stood, just for a moment. Felicia was kneeling beside the
open car door, Peter looked horrified, and stationmaster Molly was
gaping.
“Liar,” Felicia said, standing to put her arm around me.
In a vague sort of way, I noticed she didn’t have to reach up to do that
now. She was six years younger than me, but she was going to pass me
height-wise, probably in the next few months.
That was not what I was supposed to be thinking about.
“I’m really not,” I said.
“But you fainted.”
“I lost the baby fifteen days ago,” I said, in a voice that told them to close the subject. I got back in the driver’s seat.
“Do you think I ought to drive?” Peter offered. “I’d be glad to do that.”
“I feel fine now.” And I did. Almost normal. I looked in the rearview mirror at my sister, who was trying not to cry.
After
a moment’s hesitation, Peter climbed in beside me. The car started up
just fine. The soft upholstery smelled like dust, probably because the
windows had to be left open for air circulation. We drove out of
Sweetwater with my two visitors looking around them at the gently
rolling countryside, the patches of green (mostly mountain cedar), the
dry grass, the beating sun.
“How’s Eli?” Peter said. “Where is he working?” He yawned widely.
“He had to go over to Cactus Flats early this morning. He’s doing some earthmoving to help with their new town sewage system.”
“An air grigori working on earth?” Peter frowned.
“It’s
a job that pays,” I said, as mildly as I could. Though Eli’s specialty
was air, that didn’t mean he couldn’t move some earth. Just required a
little more work. Same way I’d taken on a job guarding a bank in Homer’s
Corner while there was a large payroll in its safe, which was not my
favorite job. It was what I called a sitting duck situation.
But
Eli and I needed extra money to pay for the expense of additions to our
cabin. Until the year before, my home had been one large room with a
walled-off bathroom in one corner. In time, I’d gotten on city water.
Even
later, after I’d met Eli and he’d come to care about me (and I’d done
him some favors), he’d added electricity. Several of the houses on the
hill had tied into it, too. So my monthly bills, which had been almost
nonexistent, were now a factor in my budget. But I hunted for my meat,
I’d gotten some vegetables in return for helping with my mother’s
garden, and I swapped for other things I needed.
That had been
good living for a single woman but not ideal for a couple, we’d found.
It had been easy enough to add our bedroom, but it had put a hole in our
savings. Now we’d added yet another bedroom to the cabin. We were
managing, but we had to consider every expenditure. Eli wasn’t used to
that.
I realized neither Peter nor Felicia had spoken in a few
minutes. Felicia’s eyes were shut, and she’d leaned against the door.
Peter’s eyes were open but droopy.
“You tired?” I asked him.
He nodded. In another minute, his eyes closed. I remembered how exhausted I’d been when I’d traveled to San Diego and back.
Felicia stirred a little when we got to the outskirts of Segundo Mexia. “We there?” she said, her voice full of sleep.
“Yep.
You and Peter share a bed?” I asked Felicia quietly. I wanted to get
that settled before we got home. “We can put a partition between two
beds in the new room, or we can shove the beds together. We didn’t want
to take anything for granted.”
Felicia was nodding off again. “We can share,” she muttered. “Either way is fine. When will we meet your mother?”
“Tomorrow,” I said. “When you’ve woken up.”
“?’Kay,” she said, and her eyes shut.
The
rest of the ride was completely silent. It was brief, too, because
there wasn’t much to Segundo Mexia even when you drove through the whole
town, as I had. I hated to wake my passengers, but we’d have to walk up
to the cabin. There was no track for a car. None of us who lived up the
hill had one. Not enough money.
I roused my passengers to start
them walking. I followed with the bags. We passed Rex Santino on his way
to town and exchanged greetings. Jed Franklin was working on some
leather at a table outside his cabin, and we nodded at each other.
Chrissie popped out of her front (and only) door long enough to wave at
me, shake her head at the sight of my guests (who were just about
walking in their sleep), and begin to hang out her wash. Her two boys
were at school, though it was about to close for the summer.
My
mother, the town schoolteacher, had told me Chrissie’s boys were not too
bright, very lively, and good-natured. Took after their ma, in other
words. Chrissie’s youngest, a girl, began to cry from inside the shack.
Chrissie pegged one last shirt on the line and went in.
Our cabin
was the last one on the town side of the hill, near the top. I was glad
to see the front door open as we approached. Eli leaped out to hug
Peter, then Felicia.
“They need to go right to bed,” I called.
“I can see that.” Eli was smiling. He was very
happy to see his brother. He’d talked about his sisters and his mother
from time to time, but I think he’d missed Peter most of all. Eli raised
his eyebrows over Peter’s head, silently asking if I’d gotten the word
on the bed situation. I held up a finger for one. He nodded and made big
eyes at me to show his astonishment.
I laughed out loud. I couldn’t help it. I was so glad to see Eli acting like himself.
Felicia turned to look, her eyes heavy with sleep. “Bathroom?” she said groggily.
“Indoors
to the back right,” I said. It made me proud to need to give directions
to the inside of the cabin. Before, it had been completely obvious
where everything must be. Having a bathroom inside was not a given in
Segundo Mexia or anywhere in Texoma.
Eli was showing Peter their
bedroom (to the right of the big original room). He stowed the suitcases
on the bench at the foot of the bed, which we had built… both bed and
bench. Without another word, Peter collapsed onto the mattress. At least
he’d pulled his shoes off.
After a couple of minutes, Felicia
trudged out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, her face clean. When
she saw Peter asleep, she half-smiled before she slid into the bed
beside him. Eli and I backed out and shut the door behind us.
That was the last we saw of our company until early evening.
Eli
and I ate sandwiches outside at the picnic table under the live oak
tree. He’d gotten cash for the job this morning, which was not always
the case. Sometimes he was paid in produce or chickens or rabbits. Once a
goat. At first, this had astonished and disgusted him, but now he’d
adapted. I’d dug a pit and barbecued the goat, and it had been
delicious. We’d fed everyone on the hill. Jackson and my mother had
come, too.
“What shall I do?” Eli said after we’d eaten. He
glanced at the house, hopeful he’d see Peter come out. He would be
restless until he could talk to his brother. This was a thing I’d
learned about Eli after we’d gotten married: he was not good at just
being. He didn’t mind a good project, but he was not one to just take a
morning off to fish or hunt.
“You can return the car to John
Seahorse,” I said. “Tell him it drove fine. And if you could drop by the
hotel to tell Jackson our company got here safely, I’d appreciate it.” I
handed him the car key.
Eli jumped up and started downhill.
There was a breeze, and his long light hair blew back in a pretty way.
He was wearing his grigori vest, of course, with its many pockets and
crannies, over a sleeveless shirt. He was a sight. I sighed at the
picture he made.
Jackson and my mom seemed to like him, though
there was a certain reservation in the way they treated him. I sighed
again, this time not so happily.
I went into the cabin to wash
our plates and found that Felicia had tossed their travel clothes
outside the bedroom door. I gathered them and heated water over the
outside fire. I used it to fill the washtub outside, added some soap
flakes, and plunged the clothes into the hot water. I scrubbed them and
rinsed them and hung them to dry, which wouldn’t take any time at all on
this hot, sunny day.
I thought about the hundreds of times I’d
watched my mother do the same thing. I didn’t think Candle Rose Skidder
(her name for fifteen years now) was exactly looking forward to meeting
my half sister—yet she was glad that I had one, she’d told me so.
I
was very lucky. Though I’d been the result of rape, I’d been brought up
with love. My mother had trained to be a teacher so she could support
me, and my grandparents had taken care of me while she did so. Mom might
have hidden her head in disgrace all her days, but she did not. She
toughed it out. She’d ended up respected, and she’d made a good marriage
to Jackson Skidder.
My half sister, who was legitimate, had lost
her mother and been neglected by our father. Her mother’s father had
denied her. I, the bastard, had come out the luckier of us two. I could
only be grateful.
I yawned wide enough to swallow a deer whole.
Maybe a nap would be a good idea. I lay down on our bed, leaving the
door open. In two shakes of a lamb’s tail, I was dreaming of broad
deserts.
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