The Native Star Page 18

  Stanton, however, was not finished. Sighting down the rifle’s barrel, he stormed toward the men, teeth bared.

  “Get away from my horses!”

  The men scattered quickly, leaving Furness to glare at Stanton, his gaze fixed and dark. As Stanton unhitched Romulus and Remus, his aim did not waver from the preacher’s heart.

  “The righteous will prevail,” Furness murmured, as Stanton swung up onto Remus’ back.

  Emily felt the buckboard rock as Dag jumped into the driver’s seat and slapped the leads, his near-panicked horses leaping forward almost out of their harness. Behind them, Stanton and his Morgans galloped in a cloud of dust, and Emily, looking at the brilliant red blood on her hand, lay back in the wonderfully soft marsh hay and passed out.

  “What the hell have you done to her?”

  The words swirled through Emily’s head, like a dream fading in morning light. But unlike a dream fading in morning light, these words kept getting louder.

  “I haven’t done anything. The situation got out of hand …”

  “The situation got out of hand? Damn you, Stanton! Her hair’s gone, she’s dressed like a man … and there are Army officers all over Lost Pine looking for her!”

  Emily was still in the back of the buckboard, the smell of hay filling her nostrils. The air had grown cooler, and the sun was considerably lower in the sky than she remembered it. The wagon was not moving. The raised voices were coming from a little ways off.

  “Army officers?” Stanton’s voice. “How many? Who is leading them?”

  “A detachment of about thirty men, led by Captain John Caul.” Dag’s voice. “What in God’s name have you gotten Emily into?”

  Emily’s arm ached. She brought fingers up to touch it. A cloth had been tied around it, and not particularly skillfully.

  “We have to get her away from here as quickly as possible,” Stanton said.

  “We aren’t doing anything,” Dag growled. “You’ve gotten her into enough trouble. What were you thinking, taking her to New Bethel? Everyone knows that’s a Witch-burning town! They would have burned her along with you, if they knew what she was! And they would have figured it out the minute they saw that rock in her hand.”

  “I didn’t know what New Bethel was, or I never would have taken her there.” Stanton’s voice was low. “I don’t want to see her hurt any more than you do.”

  “You’re a goddamned liar,” Dag snarled. “If you cared two pins about what’s best for Emily, you’d want to see her back safe in Lost Pine, where she belongs—”

  “If she goes back to Lost Pine she’s as good as dead,” Stanton broke in angrily. “You saw the stone in her hand. That’s what Caul wants, and he won’t stop at killing to get it!”

  Emily sat up carefully, hand on her head. She still felt dizzy. There was blood on the hay around her—her own blood. She looked around. Stanton’s horses were hitched nearby, switching their tails nervously.

  The men did not notice her. Dag was staring at Stanton, fists clenched.

  “That’s not what Captain Caul says,” Dag said. “He says the stone is a valuable magical artifact. He says you’re just using Emily to get it for yourself. For your institute. He says that you’re the criminal, hindering a servant of the public good …”

  Stanton snorted. “He’s lying. I have no doubt he’s excellent at it.”

  “Caul says she’s just an innocent victim. He says you’re the only one who’s in trouble.” Dag’s voice lowered a dangerous octave. “‘Seducement to treason,’ he called it …”

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Stanton barked. “Caul will say anything to get his hands on the stone!”

  “And I guess you’ll do anything to keep your hands on it!” Dag seized a handful of Stanton’s shirt, giving him a bone-rattling shake. “Why the hell should I take your word over his? He’s a sworn lawman, and you’re just some shifty, stuck-up, no-account traveling Warlock!”

  Stanton sighed through clenched teeth, raising his hands in a placating gesture. When he spoke again, his words were slow and careful, with a note of assumed patience that wasn’t at all successful.

  “Mr. Hansen, I know how you feel about her. You want her to be safe. But I swear to you, Caul means her harm. And you can’t protect her against him.”

  “Yeah, not like the bang-up job you did protecting her against the Witch burners in New Bethel,” Dag sneered, releasing Stanton’s shirt and shoving him backward. “’Case you already forgot, Warlock, she was the one had to rescue you.”

  Emily saw Stanton’s face disarrange briefly, and then, just as quickly, set with steely composure.

  “That was a mistake,” he said.

  “You only get one.”

  “Dag … Mr. Stanton …” Emily said. “Stop it.”

  When Dag saw that she was sitting up, his face softened with concern and he hurried to her side.

  “Emily,” he murmured. “You shouldn’t be up. You’re hurt!”

  She smiled sadly at the worry in his face.

  “I’ll be all right,” she said.

  “Good,” Stanton said, straightening the front of his shirt angrily. “Then perhaps you can explain things to Mr. Hansen in language simple enough for him to understand.”

  The derisive sneer in his voice made her blood boil. He was a veritable prodigy at finding new ways to be insufferable! She bared her teeth at him.

  “You!” she barked. “Why didn’t you use magic against them?”

  Answering anger kindled in Stanton’s face.

  “Maybe you didn’t notice, but I did try to use magic against them—”

  “Then why didn’t it work? They would … they would have burned you!”

  “And they would have burned you, too.” Stanton’s voice dropped. “Your lumberman has already been good enough to remind me of that fact.” Throwing up a hand, he stalked off in the direction of his horses.

  Emily sunk back into the hay, feeling suddenly very tired. The horses at the front of the buckboard whuffled and shifted. Dag stared after Stanton, frowning.

  “I wouldn’t mind giving him another black eye, if you’d like.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said. “This isn’t his fault.”

  “Then whose fault is it?” Dag shook his head. “What’s happened to you, Emily? What have you got yourself mixed up with?”

  “I don’t know, Dag.” Emily exhaled the words. “But Mr. Stanton is right. I can’t go back to Lost Pine. That’s why we were trying to sell his horses in New Bethel … to get money for railroad tickets. We have to get to New York.”

  “New York?” Dag said it as if she’d revealed they were planning a trip to the moon.

  “We have to go, Dag.”

  “Why?” Dag’s eyes were hard, and he eyed the ring on her thumb, the one Stanton had given her back at the chophouse. She was fingering it absently. She noticed his gaze.

  “It’s nothing like that.” She buried the hand under the hem of her suit jacket quickly. “New York is where the Mirabilis Institute of the Credomantic Arts is. There is a man there, Professor Mirabilis, who can help me.”

  “Help you with this?” Dag took her right hand gently. For such a large man, his touch was surprisingly gentle. He looked at the faintly glowing stone that winked from her palm, mute and mysterious.

  “Yes,” Emily murmured.

  Dag nodded silently.

  “After you left, I went around to see your Pap a few times. I was so darn mad, I wanted to know why you’d gone …” Dag’s face was quizzical, as if he were trying to remember an elusive dream. “He gave me things to drink. They made my head clear up a little. He told me something about the stone … told me that you and Stanton just went to have it looked at …” Dag paused. “I wanted to believe him, Emily.”

  “It’s true,” Emily said. “I only went to San Francisco with Mr. Stanton because the Mirabilis Institute has an extension office there. That’s where Caul found us. He wants the stone, Dag. I think he’ll do an
ything to get it.”

  “Caul does seem a pretty hard type.” Dag’s frown deepened. “His men have been poking around the Old China Mine. They shoot at anyone who comes near, no questions asked. But that’s not the worst. Besim’s disappeared. Folks swear they last saw him talking to Caul.” He looked at Emily. “Caul’s been asking about Pap, too.”

  Emily’s whole body went cold. “Oh, Dag, no …”

  “He’s safe.” Dag smoothed a hand over her arm. “Caul doesn’t know where he is. I’ve got him hid in one of the timber camp buildings, and a dozen of my men with him. I won’t stand for bullies harassing honest folk.”

  Emily said nothing, but her heart swelled with gratitude. She repressed the urge to hug him, for she knew it would only mean the wrong thing.

  “Thank you, Dag.” Tightness in her throat made her words small. “Thank you so much.”

  Dag was silent, chewing things over. When he spoke again, it was a petulant outburst.

  “But why do you have to go to New York? Why couldn’t they help you in San Francisco?”

  “The professor who ran the San Francisco office was the one who double-crossed us,” Emily said. Dag’s nostrils flared.

  “And so you’re going to New York so they can double-cross you there?”

  “Mr. Stanton has a lot of trust in Professor Mirabilis,” Emily said.

  “And you have a lot of trust in Mr. Stanton.” Dag’s voice was flat and strained.

  “He has shown himself a decent and trustworthy individual,” Emily said.

  “Have you slept with him?”

  Emily was so shocked that she jerked back, knocking her head against one of the high walls of the buckboard. She felt her face blazing red as she rubbed the smart.

  “Dag!” she said, furiously. A wide smile broke over his face.

  “I’ve got my answer.” His voice was suddenly hopeful. “So it’s true? There’s really nothing between him and you? I’ve seen how he looks at you.”

  “What are you talking about?” Emily snapped, her cheeks flaming afresh. “He most certainly does not look at me.”

  Dag shrugged, scratching his jaw thoughtfully.

  “When you ran off with him, I thought for sure …” He paused, checking himself. New hope glinted in his eyes. “But if I could believe … if I could believe that you were telling the truth, then maybe things could turn out all right after all.”

  Emily shook her head.

  “Don’t say it, Dag,” she murmured, but he took both her hands in his.

  “Why not?” he said. “I’ll go with you to New York. I’ll get you to this Mirabilis Institute place. We can be married and you can travel like an honest woman. And then, after this is all taken care of, we can come back home and put it all behind us.”

  Emily felt self-loathing soak through her.

  “Dag … I have to tell you something. Remember when Besim did his Cassandra, and said that I was doing bad magic? You thought it was bunk, but it wasn’t. I was doing bad magic. The baddest magic I’ve ever done.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I hexed you,” Emily said miserably. “Put a love spell on you.”

  Dag stared at her for a moment. Behind his eyes, contemplation chased understanding.

  “Did you do it … because you were in love with me?”

  No, I just thought you’d make a good husband.

  Emily couldn’t bring herself to say the words, even though they were the truth.

  “It was the most selfish thing I’ve ever done,” she whispered. “The most selfish and thoughtless and …” She paused, taking a deep breath, trying to make the words come out right. “When I saw how bad it hit you, I was going to undo it right away. Honest. But the stone … I can’t do magic with it in my hand, you see. So I went to San Francisco. I wanted to get the stone out so I could come back and take the spell off you.”

  Dag smiled sadly as he brushed a tear from her face.

  “Probably wouldn’t do any good,” he said. “I’ve loved you for an awful long time, Emily. I can’t remember when I didn’t. You didn’t need any love spell.”

  Emily stared at him. Was he telling the truth, or was it just his memory tainted by the spell? To her dismay, she saw that he was telling the truth. She saw it in the deepest part of his eyes. She’d cast a love spell on someone who was already in love. So that was why it had gone so wrong. She hadn’t made one bad mistake, she’d made two.

  “Dag, why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  “Every time I got up the courage, there was something else to do, something else to build. I wanted to be more, to be worth more.” He shook his head. “I knew that if you loved me, we could have nothing and it would be enough. But I knew that if you didn’t … well, I’d have to offer you the whole world. I guess I wasted too much time trying to cover both bets.”

  They sat in silence for a while.

  “Could you …” Dag paused. “Could you be in love with me?”

  Emily let out a long breath.

  “I wouldn’t have put the spell on you if I didn’t think I could.”

  “I love you, Emily Edwards. I want you for my wife. Marry me and let me help you. I’ll make everything better for you. I’ll take care of everything. I promise.”

  Emily remembered the robin sitting on the windowsill. The omen of true love. Perhaps this was what it had meant all along. Right now, she felt very much as if she could love Dag Hansen. He was strong and safe and solid, and his promises of salvation were sweet as fresh honey. She could vanish into his arms and let him protect her from the world that was so much meaner and more complicated than she had ever imagined it. The thought of finding a place to hide from Witch burners and blood thieves, Warlocks and dead holy women suddenly had great appeal. Dag had plenty of money. He could pay for first-class tickets to New York and back. Besides, what kind of future did she have to look forward to without him? Even if she and Stanton did find a way to New York, and even if Professor Mirabilis was able to get the stone out of her hand, then what? Could she ever return to Lost Pine? And if not Lost Pine, where could she go?

  But even as she thought these things, she knew the answer she had to give. Marrying Dag because she was afraid was as selfish as marrying him for his money. It was cowardly and unfair and cruel. She did not love him. Not the way he wanted her to, not the way he deserved to be loved. And even though she wished that Stanton hadn’t said it, she knew that he was right. Dag could not protect her against Caul. Worse, she’d be plunging him into terrible danger right along with them. She bit her lip. She’d made two bad mistakes already. She would not make a third.

  “I’m sorry, Dag.”

  “Why should you go into danger and not me?” Dag blazed. “Why should you risk your life alone?”

  “I’m not alone.”

  “That’s right, you have Stanton to help you. You’ll let him help you, but not me?”

  “It’s Warlocks we face,” Emily said. “He’s a Warlock.”

  Dag was silent for a long, long time. His eyes scanned every inch of her face.

  “Yeah, he’s a Warlock. A great and powerful Warlock.” Dag spat the words with disgust. “I’ll take your kind of magic over the magic of Warlocks any day. Nice, homey magic. Fixing scraped knees and stuffing charm pouches and painting hexes. It was … nice. People didn’t get hurt by it.”

  No one except you, Emily thought. And now Besim, and maybe Pap … and all of Lost Pine …

  And in that instant, Emily realized that no matter what she did to mitigate her mistake, she could never repair all the damage it had caused. Perhaps she could return to Lost Pine someday … but she could never return to the place that she’d left.

  “I’m sorry, Dag,” she said. “I’m so sorry. For everything.”

  “Yeah,” Dag said. “Me, too.” He drew in a breath, let it out. Then he squared his shoulders, made a decisive gesture.

  “Well then,” he said. “You have to get to New York. So I’m going to
get you to New York, even if it means I have to put you on a train with that.” He gestured in the direction Stanton had gone. “I’ll buy his horses. That’ll give you the money you need for the train tickets.”

  Emily blinked at him.

  “You’d do that?”

  “It’s just money,” Dag said.

  “Honor bright?”

  “Honor bright.” He smiled at the old words; when they were children, those were the words they had used to indicate absolute unquestionable truth. Then he took her in his arms and held her close, his nose buried in her hair. She clung to him tightly, closing her eyes. Just the feeling of being held by another human being was reassuring. She hadn’t realized how much she craved it. After a long time like this, he let her go.

  “I’ll run the team back to Lost Pine and get cash-money out of the office safe. You and Stanton get up to Cutter’s Rise. I’ll meet you before the train gets there at half past ten.”

  He looked as if he was going to say something else, but he closed his mouth.

  “Go on, now,” he said. “There isn’t much time.”

  * * *

  Emily heard Stanton before she saw him. He was whistling something that managed to sound spry and despondent at the same time. She found him sitting on a rocky outcropping overlooking a deep valley that was colored golden with the rays of the sinking sun. He had his legs drawn up to his chest, his arms resting straight out over them. His long fingers were tearing apart a pine cone in a way that seemed to indicate a personal grudge against conifers.

  Emily didn’t go to him immediately. Instead she wandered around, gathering a handful of new green herbs. Popping the leaves into her mouth, she chewed them. Then she sat down next to Stanton, took one of his hands, and looked at the ugly rope burns on his wrist. Spitting the masticated herbs into her palm, she smeared them onto the raw scrapes.

  “Ugh!” Stanton tried to jerk his hand away, but she held his wrist tight. “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t move,” Emily said. She fished around in her pocket until she found Ruthless Mike’s handkerchief. She tore it down the middle, then bandaged each of Stanton’s wrists with the herbs and linen.