Relic (24 page)

“Maggie. We must talk.”

“Who are you?” I asked, sounding far more forceful than I felt.

The features of the shadow began to sharpen. A face formed and I recognized it immediately.

“Moon John? How are you doing this?”

“Wraith relic. Another one of those illegal shadow relics no one is supposed to have. But in this case, it had to be used.”

An arrow of hope cut through me. “Can you get me out of here?”

“I cannot. I have tried, but Mr. Connelly has locked off the entire upstairs floor, and all of the girls in it.”

My breath caught. “Adelaide. Is Adelaide all right?”

“I do not know.”

“What about my sister? Please tell me she’s safe.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know nothing.”

The past three days had been consumed with worry for Adelaide and Ella. And now I finally had word from the outside, but still no information about either of them.

“I have very little time,” Moon John said, his image flickering.

“Why did you come?”

“Another town has burned.”

My heart sank, and then fear gripped me. I ran up to the shadowy form of Moon John. I’d have shaken him by the shoulders if I could. “The Apaches. What about the Apaches? Have they hanged them?”

“Not yet.”

I sank down with relief, catching myself on the edge of my bed. “Thank God.”

“Listen to me carefully, Maggie. I have studied these razings, and I believe that if we find which relic is being used, we can find who is responsible.”

“You don’t believe the Apaches are involved?”

“No. Whoever is burning those towns is using a very powerful fire relic. The Apaches shun the use of such things.”

“Exactly,” I said. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell people, but no one believes me!”

“People believe what is easy to believe. They wish for someone to blame, and so they reach for the fastest answer.”

“You’ve got that right. So who do you think
is
to blame? I have a few ideas.”

“As do I.” The shadowy image of Moon John moved closer. “But listen to me. The reason I have risked visiting you tonight is to talk with you about the relic you brought in to the registry. You must give it to me. I believe it has powerful fire magic, such as might be used in the razings.”

The image of that red, shadowy relic flashed in my mind. So beautiful, so powerful, so dark. It had warmed in my hand to form a necklace and brightened the lamp in Landon’s room. A fire relic. A fire relic that could burn an entire town. Chills ran up the back of my neck, followed by a flash of panic. “I don’t have it anymore.”

Moon John was silent.

“I’m so sorry,” I said. “I tried to hide it. But I think that dog Mr. Connelly had my room searched. I’d bet anything he had his spy steal it.”

“This is very bad. Very bad.”

Lightning shot through me. “Do you think he knows what it is? Do you think he might be involved with the razings?”

Even as I spoke them, the words rang darkly true. How could I have not seen it before? If I knew of any person evil enough to burn an entire town, it would be Connelly.

“He has to be involved,” I said. “Somehow.”

Moon John’s image nodded slowly “But Mr. Connelly could not do this alone.”

“Emerson Bolger.”

The pieces slowly clicked together in my mind. I remembered Mr. Bolger and Mr. Connelly sneaking through the shadows of the Hacienda, whispering hushed threats. And the papers I’d read on Bolger’s desk with an exact description of the dark red relic.

“The two of them are in it together. They’re blackmailing Álvar Castilla for his lands. They’re trying to scare him into cooperating!”

Moon John’s silence betrayed doubt.

“You don’t think Álvar’s actually part of it, do you?” I said. “Look, he’s far from perfect, but he’s not a murderer.”

“He is the most powerful man for miles. And he has many men working for him, men who
may
be evil, such as Mr. Connelly.”

“But he wouldn’t let anyone do that under his nose.”

Moon John’s gaze was sharp. “Indeed not. Surely a man of his position is no less than the leader of such an undertaking.”

In my mind I could see the group of men slipping quietly through the secret passageway in the Hacienda, with Álvar in the lead. I sank into the chair by the vanity, my mind running like a wild stallion. I thought of the raging debts, the miners—his miners—working their fingers to the bone to find him relics that would solve his problems. And what had they found? A fire relic of terrible power.

His words echoed in my mind.
You owe me, Maggie. And I will collect on that debt.
He’d said he needed my talents to help him. But to help him save the towns or destroy them?

“But why? Why would he do such a thing?”

An answer sat before me in the darkness. His debts. Perhaps Álvar thought the only way to clear out all that debt was to eliminate his creditors.

“I can’t believe it,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I can’t believe he would do it.”

“Even a decent man can be capable of great evil when he wishes to hold onto great power.”

It felt like the walls were closing in, like I couldn’t catch one good breath. “But what about Emerson Bolger? He knew about the relic. I found a letter describing it in his room.”

Moon John shook his head. “I do not know what this means.”

“It means maybe you got the wrong man!”

“No. There are many things that do not add up, Maggie. Something vast and dark has taken hold here, and nothing makes perfect sense.”

“Well, what if it’s neither man? What if the real culprit is someone completely different?”

“Anything is possible.” After a pause, Moon John spoke again, his voice soft. “If I were you, I would forget this matter. I would get out of this town while you still can. Take your sister and go. And do not look back.”

I scoffed. “Well, I have to get out of this room first, don’t I?”

“You will. Mr. Connelly will let you out to serve the men who are already pouring into Burning Mesa.”

“What men?”

“Men from other counties and towns. Word of the new razing has already spread. This time, they will not wait to act.”

“What do you mean?”

“A mob has formed to attack the Apaches.”

I’d heard the threats so many times, yet the certainty in Moon John’s voice made my blood run cold. “But they can’t. They don’t know where the camp is.”

“They will find a way. Álvar Castilla is helping them to cover up his own evil deeds. If he can convince the people of Burning Mesa and this state that the true culprits have been killed, then all will agree that justice has been done, and he will be free.”

“It could just as well be Emerson Bolger.” I wasn’t ready to give up on my theory, not when that dark, nagging feeling refused to go away. “He’s helping the mob, too, isn’t he? He was there the day they met in The Desert Rose.”

Moon John shook his head. “Yes, but that could mean anything.”

“It doesn’t matter. Whoever’s behind it has to be stopped. I’ll tell everyone the truth.”

“You should do no such thing,” Moon John warned. “If you care about the welfare of your sister, you must leave as soon as you can.”

I hugged my arms around me, feeling dizzy and sick in the heart. “I was planning to leave. I was going to take her with me to Green Springs. Start fresh. I have a good friend there.”

Moon John was silent, but I could see his expression fall.

“What?” I asked, rising out of the chair. “What’s wrong?”

“Maggie, my child, Green Springs was the town that was burned two days ago. It’s gone. No one survived.”

Chapter Thirty-one

Grief has a way of consuming even the smallest things in life. Color, sound, smell. I couldn’t sense any of it as I mindlessly wiped the tables down in the saloon, poured more coffee, and cleared away plates. Just as Moon John predicted, Tom had let me out of my room the next morning, tossed an apron at me, and ordered me to serve the influx of customers. Men and women clustered at the tables, eating, drinking, and talking in low, nervous tones about their desire to attack the Apache camp. I served them without hearing or seeing them.

I’d gone to check on Adelaide soon as Tom let me out. I tapped on her door, and when she didn’t say anything, I opened it. She lay on her bed, silent, staring at the wall. I recognized the look of eyes that had cried every last tear in them. Only then did I know she’d heard about Green Springs.

It hurt my heart to see her so desolate. Part of me wanted to say, “Maybe Bobby and Landon survived. They’re strong boys. They’re fighters! If I could survive, maybe they did.” But I loved her enough to not tug at that thread of irrational hope, a thread that would inevitably release a surge of even deeper sorrow. So I said nothing and went downstairs to drown out the ringing in my ears with mindless work.

Late that afternoon, as I swept along the side of a table, one of the men grabbed my apron. “You better get on out of here,” he said, a slur in his voice.

I jerked my apron from his fingertips and kept moving past him, but this only made him speak louder.

“War’s comin’. This town’s gonna be turned upside down before it’s through. A young kid like you outta get out of here quick as you can.”

I still didn’t look at him. What difference did it make if war came? Let it.

“The mob’s goin’ in to get those Apaches at first light tomorrow morning. They’re goin’ soon as they get the lynching taken care of.”

My feet froze in place. I whipped my head around to him. “Lynching?”

“Ain’t you heard? They’re hangin’ those three Injuns tonight. At sunset. The sheriff’s finally given the go-ahead.”

I stared at him. “Impossible.”

“It’s gonna be the first shot fired in the war. Gonna get the crowd good and riled up for when they march on them Apaches.”

My legs felt numb, tingling. “No one knows where they are.”

The man sniffed. “They do now. That Injun bouncer you got workin’ here spilled the beans. He told Señor Castilla where to find that camp. So now this crew in here’s fixin’ to ride first thing tomorrow. Soon as they get them hangin’s out of the way.”

Standing there, listening to that man, something snapped inside me, something deep inside the layers of numbness I’d tried so hard to build up. All at once, my calm started to crumble. The waves of rage and sorrow burst through those glass walls like a flash flood, and the broom slipped from my hands. My eyes fixed on Tom, standing at the bar, counting money in the till.

I flew at him. He saw me coming, and the frown of concentration dropped from his face. But by the time he could see the fury in my eyes, I had my hands around his collar.

“Traitor!” I screamed. “Murderer!”

“Hey!” He pried my hands from his neck and pulled me away from him. “What in the hell are you doing?”

“How could you betray your own people?” I shouted, my face hot as a red coal. “When you
know
they haven’t done a thing!”

Tom’s face paled, but he kept a scowl. “You calm yourself down right now.”

But I couldn’t. My rage surged on, fueled by the sorrow I’d been trying so hard not to face, the sorrow of losing Landon and Bobby and Adelaide, and the dream of living together as a family in some new place. Sorrow at the unspeakable injustice of Yahn hanging to cover up an evil man’s lies. The tempest inside engulfed me. I was swept away in the sudden, furious current of it.

“I won’t calm down!”

The men around us stared. They cast looks at Tom, wondering if he was going to do something about the crazed female raising such a ruckus. Scowling, Tom dragged me behind the bar.

“Take your dirty hands off me,” I shouted, punching him with my free arm. “I don’t want to be anywhere near you!”

“Then don’t be,” he barked. He flung me into the back room. “You stay in here and cool the hell off. I don’t want to see you out there until you’re calm.”

“Innocent people will die because of you, Tom.
Your
people.”

His face was stone. “They ain’t my people anymore.”

“They are! And you’ve sentenced them to death for something they didn’t do.”

Tom’s eyes blazed. “You don’t understand. It’s easy for you to get all high and mighty. You never had to…” He choked back his words. “You’d be different if you knew.”

“If I knew what?”

He said nothing, and his cryptic behavior only made me more furious.

I glared at him. “I don’t know how you can stand here with not even the decency to care.”

“Caring won’t stop it, Maggie. People are mad as hellfire, and this war is gonna come one way or another. Innocent people will die no matter how you slice it. If you were smart, you’d know what side to be standing on when it all starts. On the side that’s gonna win.”

With that, he stomped out of the back room, the door swinging shut behind him, leaving me alone in the darkness. I was fit to explode. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs. I wanted to chase after Tom and pound him with my fists. I wanted to sob and shout and let the whole world shatter at the sound of my rage.

Fierce tears burned down my cheeks. I knew it wasn’t really Tom I was angry at. It was the sheer, unavoidable failure my life had become in spite of everything I’d done. Lord knows how hard I’d tried to make something out of the ashes the Haydenville fire had left me in. And yet somehow, there I sat with nothing. Landon dead. Adelaide broken. Ella trapped in the gilded grip of Álvar Castilla, possibly in real danger. And now Yahn, the one person who gave me hope, set to hang at sunset. I gripped my face in my hands, sobbing into the dust and sand. Why? Why didn’t I let the fire burn me that night? Wouldn’t it have been better?

Feeling dizzy, I sat up and leaned my head against the wall. Wiping my eyes, I held my hand in front of my face. Tears glistened on my fingertips. So many tears. I stared at my hand, and a strange feeling started to flicker inside me. A flame in the center of my heart.

No more tears. I was sick to death of tears. I knew right then and there that I was done being sad and angry. I was through mourning. My troubles hadn’t gone anywhere—they were still as bad as ever—but in that moment I knew I was going to
do
something about it. That was my mistake from the beginning—I’d been trying to avoid problems at every turn. I’d been too busy trying to keep my head down and survive and hope the troubles wouldn’t find me.

But they had. And now it was time to turn and face them head on.

I rose to my feet, a strong, fierce pulse beating through my body. Landon might be dead, but Ella was still very much alive. And Yahn hadn’t hung yet. He
wouldn’t
hang. He couldn’t. I wouldn’t let it happen.

My breath came fast and hard. I needed a plan. Something miraculous. Something magical. I thought of the powerful red relic and cursed myself for allowing Connelly to steal it. It was the only magic I could get my hands on.

But then, like a shot of lightning, I realized that wasn’t true. Landon’s goblin belt: I’d left it in Adelaide’s room. It should still be there under her bed. Unless Connelly had gotten to that, too.

I bolted into the saloon. The men around me, the chaos, all blended into nothing. I could only see the stairs, the hallway, and then Adelaide’s room. Panting, I flung open the doors. She was nowhere to be seen, but there wasn’t time to look for her. Diving for the bed, I ran my hands over the cool wood floor beneath it. There it was, the thick leather belt with the gleaming gray-green relic on the buckle. Emotion choked my throat as I pressed it to my heart.

Thank you, Landon.

Sunset.

The streets of Burning Mesa stood eerily empty in the golden light. A low wind whistled over the open spaces, tossing a brittle tumbleweed across the road. If I listened hard enough, I could hear the distant murmur of the mob. They rallied around the gallows, waiting, hungry for their first taste of revenge.

I moved unseen along the walkways, keeping one hand on the goblin relic, just in case. My chest clamped up with tension, making it hard to breathe. At least my legs felt strong, thanks to the earth magic of the goblin piece. I headed to the sheriff’s office with a determined step, the road spreading before me in a sure path.

The door to the office stood open, and I had exactly what I needed for my plan to work. I had to try. I
had
to.

Drawing in a trembling breath, I slipped the shoes from my feet to move more quietly and stepped forward. The rangers were planning the transportation of the prisoners to the gallows.

The bald ranger who had been so rude to me led the group. “Mitch and Avery, you two watch this north ridge here. We don’t want any chance of an ambush. Cobbs, Delgado, you’re gonna be on East Street.”

“Who’s driving the prisoners?”

“Jake and me.”

“That’s not many rangers.”

“It’ll be enough, if you men do your jobs. We got six men with the sheriff at the gallows right now, keepin’ a handle on the crowd.”

I stepped closer. Sweat beaded on my temples, on my upper lip, and my legs shook so hard I was afraid I’d fall down. But as I silently edged past the men, no one looked up. I eyed the open door, knowing the hardest part was yet to come.

The rangers started talking about crowd control during the hanging. I stood right by the door, my back to the wood face of the building, my pulse racing. The cluster of men was so close, I could feel their body heat. If one of them had stretched, he would have touched me. I closed my eyes as sweat streaked down my face, tickling my skin. But I was so close. If they would stay out on the deck for a few more minutes, my crazy plan might actually work.

Holding my breath, I slipped into the office. A tense glance around revealed a bit of luck: the office was empty. Trembling, I rushed to Sheriff Leander’s desk—I knew he kept important items there. Sure enough, three dark iron keys lay in the top drawer. I grabbed all of them and held them tightly in my fist. Then, shooting a look to the men out front, I steeled my courage and tiptoed down the hallway to the holding cell.

Yahn and the other Apaches sat stone still on the benches in the cell, eyes closed. At first I thought they might be sleeping, but then I heard the low murmur of their voices. They were praying to the Sacred Ones. Preparing for death.

My heart aching, I pulled the goblin belt from my waist. “Yahn.”

He looked up with a start. Seeing me, his eyes widened with confusion and shock. “Maggie?”

The other two Apaches eyed me with mistrust.

“We don’t have much time,” I whispered, rushing forward. I pressed the keys into Yahn’s hand. “Take these. But don’t use them right now. Wait until they’re transporting you in the prisoners’ wagon. I can buy you one, maybe two minutes to get out.”

Yahn blinked, looking even more confused than before. I squeezed his hand in mine. The act filled me with a pulsing, fierce surge of emotion. He had to live. I needed him to live.

“Please trust me. I’ll have horses waiting for you by the river. Near the stables. They should take you right past them on the way to the gallows.”

“Maggie—”

“There’s no time. Keep those keys hidden. Your life depends on it.”

Yahn’s eyes burned with intensity. “Thank you.”

“Thank me when the plan actually works.” I shot a look down the hall, sure one of the rangers would appear any second. “I have to go. Remember, don’t try to get out of the carriage until you hear me. I’ll buy you as much time as I can.”

I pulled the belt back around my waist. My throat swelled, and I could barely speak. “Be careful, Yahn.”

As much as I wanted to stay longer, I knew I had to hightail it out of there. The rangers would be coming for their prisoners any minute. As I rushed back down the hall, my heart pounded, but this time from exhilaration.

I spun around the corner, into the office. Two men stood by Sheriff Leander’s desk—Jake and the bald ranger. They were both staring at the open drawer. The drawer I had left open after taking the keys.

I stifled a gasp, and the bald ranger’s face shot up. His eyes went right to me.