Stranger

by Sherwood Smith

  19

  Mia

  “TEN!”

  Mia made sure everyone was crouched down and out of range of the shock wave.

  “Nine . . . eight . . . seven . . .”

  She gripped the plunger, smiling to herself. Two explosions in three days—first the pit mouth, and now blowing up ancient sewers for scrap metal. She hoped something interesting would turn up so Ross would want to stay.

  “Six . . . five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . . one!”

  Mia shoved the handle down. She felt more than heard a dull thump. Then the blast kicked up a satisfying cloud of dust and debris. The shockwave rocked her back on her heels and filmed her glasses with powdery earth. In the distance, it rained metal.

  Mayor Wolfe rose gracefully. “An excellent detonation, Mia. The raw materials will be much appreciated.”

  People moved into the hanging cloud of dust to collect the scrap metal and cement.

  Julio Wolfe gave her a high-five as he went by. “Not bad for the youngest mechanic in history.”

  By the time Mia got back to town, it was late afternoon. She ran down her list of outstanding jobs. She didn’t look forward to a hot, boring walk to the broken spigot at the farthest end of the cornfields. Why not get in some shooting practice instead? It was the one kind of drill she enjoyed.

  She found nearly the entire teenage population of Las Anclas at the range, instead of at their apprenticeships. Then she remembered: the monthly archery tournament was approaching. They’d practice all week and make up their work time later. But the only people actually training were Yuki and Meredith, and Ross, all alone on the other side, struggling with a crossbow, his profile frustrated and angry. Everyone else stood around in a clump, talking.

  Becky was saying to Felicité, “I’m honored, of course, but a presentation with everyone watching? To the mayor? I couldn’t! Ask Brisa. Nothing scares her.”

  Brisa grinned. “What if I did it with you?”

  Felicité adjusted her hat. “Certainly. I’ll order another bouquet. I want this to be special, since it’s my first community celebration.”

  “Oh, I’d love to do it. Come on, Beck, if we’re together it’ll be fun.”

  Becky eyed Brisa as if it was the least fun thing she’d ever heard of, then reluctantly said, “Okay. But only if you’re with me.”

  “Nothing easier, since we’re going together!” Brisa gave Becky’s shoulder a squeeze. Becky smiled doubtfully.

  “Thank you both,” Felicité said pleasantly. “Jennie, since I’m never any good at the tournaments, do you mind if I get on with my chores? What with our guest, the investigation, the preparations for my celebration . . .”

  Investigation?

  “Of course, Felicité.” Jennie’s manner was tense. Something was up.

  Becky said, sounding troubled, “Oh, I hope it’s not true about Ross.”

  “What about Ross?” asked Mia, glancing across the range, where he let fly an arrow that missed the target entirely, then wrung his left hand.

  “That stranger says Ross is a claim jumper,” Sujata explained. “Felicité doesn’t believe it, but her parents want an investigation.”

  Henry laughed. “I hope he is! That would be cool.”

  Will Preston shoved forward, glowering. “Claim jumpers are not cool.”

  “Who says he’s telling the truth?” José demanded. “That guy looks more like a claim jumper than Ross.”

  “My dad says there’s something suspicious about Ross,” Tommy Horst added.

  Meredith stalked up, bow in hand. “Who cares what your dad says?”

  Sujata said earnestly, “Why would a bounty hunter be chasing Ross? They’re paid to catch criminals.”

  “He might be after Ross’s finds,” Mia said.

  That caught Henry’s attention. “I thought he showed up with nothing but his own blood, and the clothes on his back.”

  She quickly backtracked. “Nothing special! He had some stuff in his pack. Earrings and stainless-steel forks and tinfoil. Stuff like that.”

  “A bounty hunter chasing a guy down the Centinela Arroyo after tinfoil?” Henry retorted incredulously. “Not a chance. Ross has to be some kind of outlaw, or there’s no reason for that guy to be here. I think that’s cool. I mean, it’s interesting.”

  “Pa Riley says bounty hunters are nothing but thieves themselves,” said José. “They steal people. And sell them.”

  Henry smirked at Yuki, who was still determinedly practicing. “Looks like Ross is another Alvarez. Did you sign up to travel with him, too, Prince Yuki?”

  With an icy edge in his voice, Yuki said, “Drop it, Henry.”

  He snapped a salute. “Yes, Your Highness.”

  Sujata nudged Mia. “If you knew anything, you’d tell us, right? Just because he’s your boyfriend—”

  “Boyfriend?” Henry clapped his hands to his forehead and staggered. “Mia has a boyfriend?”

  The thirteen-year-olds instantly began a chorus of kissy noises and moans of “Mia’s in lo-o-o-ove!”

  Henry laughed. “I thought the only hot dates you ever had were with your crescent wrench!”

  Thud! Ross’s knife slammed into the bull’s-eye. He threw another. Thud! Another bull’s-eye. Henry was nowhere near, but he took a step back.

  Mia’s entire body prickled. “He’s not my boyfriend!” She’d spoken loudly enough for Ross to hear. “And he’s not a claim jumper!”

  The boys laughed. She backed away hastily.

  Sujata pursued her. “Hey, Mia, I didn’t mean anything by it. I only—hey! We all know what the first time’s like. Come back, it’s okay!”

  “I have work!” Mia fled.

  That’s what she got for avoiding that stupid spigot! She fetched her bag of tools and took the long way to the cornfields, hoping she’d feel better by the time she got there. She didn’t. She sat down, the corn stalks towering over her head, and dried her eyes on her shirt.

  “In love.” Trust those obnoxious boys to make it sound like something to be ashamed of. What did “in love” even mean? Love songs talked about worlds turning upside down, and feeling faint, and being so overcome with fire and passion and stuff that you couldn’t even speak.

  She’d never been overcome with fire and passion, which had always made her feel like something was wrong with her. If anything, Ross was easier to talk to than the guys she’d known all her life. When he smiled at her, she didn’t feel like fainting or bursting into flames. She felt like smiling back. Was that love? Or friendship?

  The difference between love and friendship, Mia supposed, was sex. Or, at least, wanting to have sex. Did she want to have sex with Ross?

  She tried to imagine Ross naked. Or should she imagine herself naked? Herself and Ross, naked together . . .

  Her face heated up, but with embarrassment, not fiery passion. More proof that she was a freak.

  She squatted down beside the broken spigot, hoping it would be hard to fix. A complicated problem was exactly what she needed right now.

  Before she’d even finished taking it apart, she heard men’s voices. Who’d be way out here so late in the afternoon? she wondered. The field workers had all gone.

  “. . . I like a nice quiet walk.”

  She didn’t recognize the man’s voice.

  Then Mr. Preston spoke. “No one is out here this time of day.”

  Oh, great.

  Mia was unsure whether to call out, or to stay still and hope they didn’t see her.

  The man went on, “I have to say, I never thought to find the wild and dangerous Tom Preston married and settled down.” It was the stranger, the bounty hunter.

  Mr. Preston laughed. “If you’d met Valeria first, you’d probably be here too.”

  “She would have to be some woman to get me to settle dow
n.”

  “She is that. And our kids are the other thing that makes it all worthwhile. My boy is still young, but he’s shaping up. Felicité is the image of her mother: a perfect lady, smart, with a will of steel.”

  “I did get a glimpse of them. A mighty fine family, Tom, I must say. Mighty fine.”

  Mia rolled her eyes as she unscrewed a bolt. Maybe she should make some noise, so she wouldn’t have to hear any more of this stupid conversation.

  “So,” Mr. Preston said, “you still working for Voske?”

  Mia froze.

  “This time, yes.”

  “Does it bother you?” Mr. Preston asked. “It bothered me a lot.”

  “And that’s why you’re here with your fine family now, protecting this fine town.”

  The two men kept moving. Leaving her tools, Mia followed, staying one row of corn over, out of sight. She couldn’t believe that Preston knew that the bounty hunter was working for Voske—and didn’t seem to care!

  “It needs a lot of protection,” Mr. Preston continued. “Bandits, coyote packs, animals mutating all the time, singing trees growing closer every year. Half the traders who come through are either Changed or turn out to be scouts for bandits. When you leave this town, with or without the Juarez boy, will you feel obligated to tell Voske where you found him?”

  “No. I get paid for delivery. Not for information. But I’ll give you some for free, on account of our old friendship. Six months ago Voske took over Gabrielle Bell’s town and put her head on a pike.”

  “Well, you won’t see me shedding any tears,” Mr. Preston said. “Though it means he’s still expanding west.”

  “That he is,” agreed the bounty hunter.

  There was a silence. Then Mr. Preston spoke. “So—for old times’ sake—tell me why we should surrender Ross Juarez to you? I remember how Voske got some of his claims. How do I know he didn’t jump the boy’s?”

  The bounty hunter chuckled. “I suspect you’d be just as happy to see Voske lose, but here’s what’s important. That Ross Juarez is Changed.”

  No way, Mia thought. Ross would have told me.

  “That’s what I keep asking!” Mr. Preston exclaimed. “I’m the only one who seems to care.”

  Wouldn’t he?

  “The Changed here sure won’t care. That sheriff of yours scares me. By the way, Voske said the last he’d heard, you were sheriff. What happened?”

  Mr. Preston gave a sigh. “Four months ago Elizabeth Crow was one of Rivkah Lowenstein’s archers. She was engaged to our saloon keeper. When she got pregnant, she Changed. Lost the baby. Left the infirmary. Walked up to me and challenged me to a duel. Unlike previous challengers—and I’ve had my share—she won. Nothing more to say.” He paused. “Tell me about Ross Juarez.”

  “He has a very interesting, oh, talent, I guess you’d call it. He makes people like him. Maybe you’ve noticed that already.”

  “That’s it?” Mr. Preston asked.

  Mia thought, He sure knows how to work Mr. Preston.

  “Like him, trust him, do whatever he says,” the man went on. “Gabrielle Bell didn’t succeed in taking over your town, but this boy might. Turn him over to me, and then he’ll be my problem.”

  “Won’t you start liking him?”

  “I don’t like anybody,” the bounty hunter said menacingly. Then he laughed. “It takes a while to work. If you haven’t had a lot of direct contact with him, he probably hasn’t gotten to you yet. And once he’s in my custody, he won’t be doing any talking.”

  Their talk faded as they headed for the gate. The sun was nearly down. Mia ran to retrieve her tools.

  The bounty hunter was lying. Wasn’t he? There were plenty of people who didn’t seem to like Ross—but they hadn’t spent much time with him. Mia had. She’d been teased about having crushes before, but it had only been embarrassing, or made her wish she did have a crush. Why was it different with Ross? Did it mean her feelings weren’t her own?

  When she’d thought he’d leave and get himself killed in the desert, she’d been frantic. Why had she cared that much about a relative stranger? But she would feel that way about anyone in the same situation. Wouldn’t she?

  This was horrible; not only couldn’t she trust Ross, she couldn’t trust her own mind.

  She had to talk to Jennie.

  The bell tolled for the closing of the gates for the night. Mia threw her bag over her shoulder and ran.

  She slipped inside the gate behind a few people with baskets of radishes, bolted into her yard—and collided with Ross.

  20

  Ross

  ROSS RUBBED HIS BRUISED NOSE. MIA’S GLASSES HAD hit him so hard he was surprised they hadn’t broken.

  She stared at him as if he were a rattlesnake, then continued backing up until she tripped over an engine. It was so weird that he felt he had to explain his presence. “Your father sent me to find you. Kimchi fried noodles!”

  Mia didn’t look as excited as that deserved. “I was . . . working.” Without looking behind her, she stepped over the engine and hurried to her front door.

  Ross followed. “Do you need some help with something?”

  “No. No.” She shook her head a little too fast. “I’m good. I’m good. So . . .”

  Why was she acting like he’d attacked her? “I’m sorry I bumped into you.”

  “Did I hurt you?” She started to touch his face, then abruptly pulled away and backed inside, where she began picking up and setting down tools at random.

  Ross edged in, still rubbing his nose. “Are you okay?”

  “Sure! Yes.” Mia glanced down at the hammer in her hand, then carefully laid it on her pillow. “So . . . I guess you’ve had an easy time making friends. Around here.”

  She sounded as fake as a trader who was trying to fob off pyrite as a gold nugget. “What?”

  “Well, people always like you. Right?”

  “What people? The guy who shot me?”

  Mia gave him a sideways look. “Well . . . that was from a distance.”

  “What difference does that make?” Ross asked. “And who are all these people who like me? Henry, who wants me to be a claim jumper because he’s bored? Mr. Horst? The bounty hunter I warned you about, who’s been welcomed into town anyway?”

  She seemed to think about that, then let her breath out in a whoosh. “Good point. Sit down. We need to talk.” She kicked the door shut, dropped her tool kit on the bed, then reached for the cooler she kept under her work table. “Want a glass of hibiscus tea? Dad made it.”

  Ross ignored the offer. “What’s going on? What’s this stuff about people liking me?”

  Mia finally met his eyes. “Okay, seriously. Are you Changed?”

  He’d thought she was the one person who didn’t care. “Does it matter? Your father’s Changed.”

  “I didn’t mean it that way! I heard the bounty hunter talking to Mr. Preston. He said you’re Changed. He said you make people like you, and I . . .” She fumbled the cooler open and pulled out a stoneware jug. “Are you sure you don’t want any? Here.” She poured hibiscus tea into a cup and an ancient glass jar. “See? I wouldn’t share a drink with someone I didn’t like. I mean, regular liking. Not creepy mind-control liking.” Her hand shook as she held it out. “Right?”

  Ross took the jar. He knew he ought to be angry, but instead he wanted to laugh. She’d always been honest with him, as far as he knew, and it seemed wrong to shut her down.

  “I’m not Changed.” Once those words were out, it was easier to keep going. “But I don’t know how to prove that I don’t have creepy mind-control powers. Does it feel like I do?”

  When he leaned toward her, she flinched away, almost dropping her cup. Then she leaned in, and peered earnestly over her glasses. Her eyes were wide and brown, and so close he could see himself reflected
in them. His palms tingled with the urge to caress her face.

  He put down the jar and rubbed his hands on his jeans. If anyone had mind-control powers, it was Mia. When he was close to her, he wanted to touch her so much that he almost had to sit on his hands to stop himself. But then she’d touch him, and he couldn’t help flinching.

  “I guess not?” she said at last.

  “My parents were Changed.” Ross didn’t know how to tell this story. He’d never told anyone. But then, he’d never had anyone to tell. “We lived in a town a lot like this, far as I can remember. Then . . .”

  The memories came in fragments. His mother waking him up, whispering, “Don’t make a sound.” Ash falling like rain as houses burned around them. His father pushing him into his grandmother’s arms. Blood on stone . . .

  “I don’t know what happened. Exactly. But the Changed all had to run. My family split up.” His hands began to tremble, and then his whole body. It was hard to get the words out. “Because of me. I was only four, and I was slowing them down. My grandmother took me. My father went with my mother. She was pregnant. They got killed after we separated. We should’ve stayed together. If I’d been older, we would have.”

  “I’m sorry.” Mia leaned close, absolutely still. “Ross, I am so sorry.”

  He couldn’t bear to look at that steady gaze. He ran his finger around the rim of the glass jar. “I hate the thought of Norms being nice to me for being one of them when my parents died for being Changed. I’d rather not say what I am.”

  Mia picked up a screwdriver and poked at her nails. “There’s a Changed town called Catalina, on an island across the bay. About fifteen years ago, a woman from there named Gabrielle Bell came to Las Anclas. Lots of people liked her, and she could mold metal with her hands—so useful! I wish I could do that.”

  Ross wouldn’t have thought he’d be able to laugh so soon, but Mia’s enthusiasm got a chuckle out of him. “Yeah, that’s a great power.”

  “Then she ran for mayor, and said she’d only put Changed people in the government. She was going to ban Norms from the council, even though this town is two-thirds Norm. She said the world was evolving superior humans, and the Changed needed to lead the way to a better world.”