The Native Star (17 page)

At that moment, Emily caught sight of something coming down the road. A buckboard loaded with marsh hay. Dag was in the driver’s seat, craning his neck to get a better look at the brouhaha in front of the store.

“Dag!” Emily shrieked.
“Dag!”

The man behind her clamped a callused hand over her mouth. She writhed under his grip, but he just pulled her back harder, drawing her tight and close.

But Dag had heard her. He reached down to the floor of the buckboard, and when he straightened, he had a rifle in his hand. Lashing his leads secure, he climbed down, squinting in her direction.

“Emily?” he called. Emily screamed affirmatively from behind the man’s hand.

Dag levered his rifle. Grudgingly, the man holding her let his hand drop from her mouth.

“It’s me, Dag!” she cried.

Dag raised the rifle. “Let her go.”

“Hansen, this is New Bethel business,” Furness barked. “You got no call to interfere!”

“What are you going to do with him?” Dag nodded his head toward Stanton.

“He’s a sorcerer,” Furness said. “You know what we do to sorcerers.”

“Good,” Dag said. Then he stepped forward, took Emily’s wrist, and pulled her toward him with a jerk. She stumbled into his arms, and he lifted her easily over his shoulder like a bag of grain. With long strides he carried her back to the buckboard, dumping her into the pile of fragrant marsh hay.

“Wait, Hansen! The law wants her. You can’t just …”

“The law can take it up with me,” Dag said. “She’s a Lost Pine girl.”

Brushing hay from her face, Emily sat up and planted her hands on the buckboard’s gate. “No!” she screamed. “Dag, please … you can’t let them. You can’t let them kill him!”

A badly controlled flare of jealousy darkened Dag’s face. “Why not?”

“He hasn’t done anything wrong!”

Leaping over the buckboard’s gate, she snatched the rifle from his hand before he could speak. Pointing it at the sky, she fired. The sound echoed. Then she turned the rifle toward the men surrounding Stanton.

“Get away from him,” she snarled, levering another cartridge. She lifted the weapon, centering her aim right between Furness’ astonished eyes.

Furness took one step back, his face pale. He lifted his hands.

“Ensorcelled,” he said, softly.
“Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.”

“That’s me, the roaring lion,” Emily said. “Now get away from him.”

Slowly, Furness and his men moved to comply. Keeping the rifle up, Emily went to Stanton and reached inside his coat, feeling for the misprision blade. When she found it, she snicked it open. It gleamed in the high afternoon sunlight. She cut the ropes that bound him and handed him the blade.

“Get the horses,” she said. Her eyes dropped only for a moment, but it was long enough for one of the men to bring up a pistol in a swift blur of silver. There was a puff of smoke and a pop; a bullet sliced like a red-hot knife across her upper arm.

Pain seared her. Her arm fell slack, though somehow she managed to keep hold of the rifle stock. Dag roared and rushed forward, grabbed a handful of the gunman’s shirt, threw him like a bundle of sticks. Other men piled onto him; he lashed out at them, fists and elbows flying.

Emily clutched her arm, hot blood leaking through her fingers. Jumping to his feet, Stanton looked into her eyes.

“Can you ride?” he might have asked, but Emily’s heart was thundering in her ears and her head was spinning. Stanton threw Emily’s good arm around his shoulder, and dragged her toward Dag’s buckboard. He lifted her into the back, then took the rifle from Emily’s slack hand. He then turned back to where Dag was still brawling with the Scharfians.

“Hansen!” Stanton yelled, indicating Emily with a curt jerk of his head. Dag threw one last punch before rushing back to the buckboard and Emily.

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 anything 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.”