Under the Desert Sky

by Sara Luck

“What?”

  “Didn’t you used to look for balloons in the night sky?”

  Christian chuckled. “You’ve been talking to Ina Claire, haven’t you?”

  “She said you were the best at finding them.”

  “Let’s find a spot where we can see the open sky. And whoever finds the first balloon gets the first kiss.”

  “Is that a game you played with Ina Claire?”

  “No. It’s new. I’ve never played it with anyone.”

  Christian entered the house and soon returned with a quilt and a blanket. He spread the quilt and sat down, waiting for her to join him. When she did, he wrapped the blanket around her.

  “Did she tell you how to do it?” Christian asked.

  “She said you had to stare at one particular star for ten minutes and not blink. If it moved, you could prove it was a balloon.”

  “There.” Christian pointed. “That has to be a balloon.”

  “Ha, even I know that’s Venus.”

  “That’s the first one. The rules say you have to give me a kiss.”

  “Who found it? You or me?”

  “We’ll have to kiss and find out.” Christian kissed her—not a passionate kiss, but a comfortable kiss. “Tomorrow, Phoebe, I swear we’ll bring Will home, no matter what it is that Frank is holding against you. If I have to do bodily damage to that son of a bitch, I will find your son.”

  “I know you will.” Phoebe lay down on the quilt.

  Christian joined her and pulled her close. Soon she was sleeping, drawing long, even breaths.

  But sleep wouldn’t come for Christian. He was a child kicking and screaming as he was torn from a young woman, a scene that he’d kept at bay for many years. He closed his eyes, and once again he was a scrawny little boy, cowering under the table as he hid from the master. He was coming after him with a strap because Christian had dared to suck his fingers in hopes of getting the last of his gruel.

  To this day he couldn’t stand oatmeal.

  He pulled Phoebe closer to him and finally fell into a fitful sleep, his waking thoughts becoming more vivid as he relived them in his troubled dreams.

  The orphanage was a large stone hall with high, inescapable windows where the vermin had free range, and in his nightmare a large rat was coming toward him in his hiding place.

  “No!” He sat up quickly and kicked at something that had come near his foot. In the moonlight he saw a rather small animal with a long black-and-white-striped tail. His heart was beating wildly until he realized it was probably a ringtail.

  Phoebe had shifted when Christian sat up. “Go back to your own bed, honey. I love you,” she said in her sleep, then turned over and snuggled closer to Christian.

  19

  The next morning Phoebe was aghast that Christian had allowed her to sleep out under the stars with him. “What if Trinidad or July saw us?”

  Christian smiled. “I expect Trinidad did. I saw him early this morning. He and July are trying to track down any of the birds that may be somewhere close.”

  “Do you think I’ll get any of them back?”

  “Some, but probably not many. We’ll have to wait and see, but right now we can’t worry about them. How fast can you get ready to go to town?”

  “By the time you get the buggy hitched up, I’ll be ready.” Phoebe hurried into the house.

  • • •

  When they got to town, they rode by the bank and found the accordion gate was pulled back.

  “Do you want to stop here first?” Christian asked.

  “No, I want to go to the house first. If Myra was telling the truth last night and she knows something this morning, I think she’ll tell me.”

  They got to Frank’s house a little after nine o’clock. Christian rang the bell, but no one answered.

  “That’s strange,” Phoebe said. “Even if Frank and Myra aren’t here, you’d think their maid would come to the door.”

  “Maybe she was told not to.”

  “Let’s go around back. When I was the maid, I had to do a lot more than answer the door.”

  When they reached the back of the house, the maid was beating some carpets that were hung over a clothesline.

  “Pardon me,” Phoebe called, trying to sound as friendly as she could. “I came to get my little boy. I know he probably caused a lot of trouble last night.”

  The woman’s face showed contempt. “Look . . . Mrs. Sloan.” The maid set the words apart. “Miss Myra told you last night there was no child here, and no child came with Mr. Frank.” She immediately went back to beating the carpet, dismissing them without further comment.

  Christian shook his head when Phoebe started to speak again. He took her arm and guided her back to the buggy.

  “Christian, I don’t believe her. Will may not be here now, but I know he was here last night.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I just feel it. What do we do now?”

  “I think it’s time to go see your in-laws. Do you think they know anything about where Will is?”

  • • •

  “What makes you think I know where Will is?” Juliet Sloan asked. “When was the last time you brought him to see his grandparents?”

  “I’m sorry,” Phoebe said, for the first time having some empathy for the Sloans. “Are you sure you haven’t seen him, Mrs. Sloan? Frank didn’t tell you where he was taking Will?”

  “You’ve always been a delusional young woman. Frank adored Edwin, no matter what hateful nonsense you planted in his heart. If Will is missing, whatever would make you think Frank had anything to do with it?”

  “Ma’am, there was a young woman who was caring for Will while everyone was fighting a fire at Phoebe’s place. We know that it was Frank who came for him because she told us,” Christian said.

  “And who are you? Oh, yes, I’ve heard about you. What respectable man goes into a women’s establishment and buys underwear for her? It’s scandalous! I’m ashamed that this woman carries the name of Sloan,” Juliet said before slamming the door in their faces.

  • • •

  Phoebe was devastated when they climbed into the buggy. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t know who to go to. I never thought that I might be part of the problem. Mrs. Sloan’s right, I never brought Will to see them. I thought they hated me so much that they wouldn’t want to see Will either, but maybe I was wrong.”

  “We should get the sheriff, Phoebe.”

  “Not yet. If there is a chance I can find Will without going to the sheriff, I want to try it.”

  “If that’s what you want to do, all right. But if we don’t know where he is by tomorrow, promise me you’ll go to the sheriff. Or if you’re not ready to do that, I’ll personally find Frank and beat him to within an inch of his life.”

  “No, Christian, please.” Phoebe reached out to put her hand on his arm. “If you did something to Frank, you’d certainly wind up in jail. You don’t know how much power these people have in this town.”

  Phoebe was quiet on the drive home, but her mind was full of thoughts. Where was Will? She had to trust that he was still in Phoenix and that Frank wouldn’t do anything to harm him. Last night she had decided that if it took her signature to get Will back, she would sign anything.

  “I’ll go see if July is back,” Christian said when they got back to the house.

  Phoebe nodded, but she didn’t speak. He watched her head for Edwin’s burned gravesite. He wanted to go with her and take her in his arms to comfort her, but he felt she was pushing him away.

  Christian headed for the paddocks to see if he could find either July or Trinidad, but neither man was around. He walked out to the burned acreage, only to find many carcasses.

  So much carnage. What could possibly have started this fire? Then he remembered Buck’s saying it might have been started by a discarded bottle, but that didn’t make a lot of sense. This was November. Wouldn’t that scenario have had more credence if it was the middle of the summer?
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  There had to be a starting point for a fire. Christian decided he’d walk over the area to look for some physical indication of where and how the fire had started. The logical place to start was the back of the field where the unburned alfalfa was still standing.

  It took a while to get to that point, but when he arrived, something caught his attention. The back of the fire had a relatively straight line that stretched for a couple hundred feet. Beyond that point, the line of demarcation appeared to be meandering—much as you would expect a fire to move. Christian knelt beside the line, picking up some of the pieces of alfalfa. The bottoms of the plant were burned in two, but the tops were lying flat, pointing away from the fire line. The tops weren’t burned, suggesting the flames ignited rapidly.

  “Damn, this fire was set!”

  He hurried along the line looking for something to prove his speculation—a discarded kerosene can, a cigar butt, anything he could take back as proof.

  If someone had set the fire, he had to come from somewhere. Christian saw a break in the vegetation that was visible on both sides of the canal. He went to that point and, looking down, he saw boot prints. He broke off a limb of a scrub willow that was growing beside the canal, intending to mark the spot for the sheriff, should Phoebe agree to get him involved.

  Then he saw a piece of polished metal hidden in the grass. He smiled as he picked it up. This has to belong to somebody, and I have a good idea who, he thought.

  Christian started across the blackened field, heading for the gravesite, where he could see Phoebe still standing. But then he saw her start running toward the house, and Christian was encouraged. Frank must be bringing Will home.

  He, too, started running. As he got closer, he heard the unmistakable brooming call of ostriches—two low staccato calls and then a third prolonged sound.

  When he reached the house, Trinidad was leading the birds by dropping a trail of grain while July came up behind.

  One bird ran to meet Phoebe.

  “Wapi!” she yelled. “You’re alive.”

  The denuded bird followed along behind Phoebe as obediently as a puppy would follow its master.

  “I’m glad that one survived,” Christian said when he reached the men. “How many did you find?”

  “It’s not good.” Trinidad opened the first paddock on the unburned side of the road. “Sixteen.”

  “That’s all?” Christian asked.

  “There were about twenty on this side of the road,” July said, “but they are all feather birds. We only found one pair of adults.”

  Christian shook his head. “There won’t be many plumes at the next plucking.”

  “Did she find Will?” July asked.

  “She knows where he has to be, but he’s not home yet.”

  “The brother-in-law?”

  “You know it is,” Christian said, “and now I think he’s the one who set the fire.”

  “How do you know that?” July asked.

  But Christian didn’t have a chance to answer, because just at that moment a buggy turned into the lane.

  “Christian, where’s Phoebe?” Ina Claire asked as she jumped down. “We know where Will is.”

  When Phoebe came outside, Gwen was taking a carpetbag out of the buggy. “Do you know this lady? We picked her up about a mile back. She was walking along the road and she’s got some news to tell you.”

  A rather large, gray-haired black woman stepped out of the buggy.

  “Crecy!” Phoebe cried as the two women embraced. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you.”

  “I came as soon as I could. They’ve got your baby.”

  “W.F. and Juliet?”

  “No, ma’am. I don’t work for them no more. I work for the Evanses—Miss Myra’s mama and daddy. This morning when Mr. Frank brought that child bright and early, and he a-cryin’ for his mama, I knew something was wrong. When I was fixin’ his breakfast, Miss Myrtle left me with him and I asked him who he was. He told me he was your little one and I had to come and tell you. He said Mr. Frank stole him. Now, that ain’t right.”

  “Oh, Crecy, you don’t know how grateful I am that you were there,” Phoebe said. “They forgot that you and I worked together at the Sloans and that you’d know me.”

  “Yes’m, that they did.”

  “I’m going to go right now. I should have known Frank would take Will to his in-laws.”

  “Wait a minute,” Christian said. “Why don’t you let me go get him?”

  “And I’ll go, too,” July said. “Christian and I will do whatever it takes to bring that little guy home to you, Phoebe.”

  “I can’t let you do that. I need to be the one to go get him.”

  “Think about it for a minute. These people won’t know us, but if they see you—if Frank’s told them to keep him from you—they may do what they can to stash Will away.”

  Phoebe took a deep breath. “All right, but, Christian, don’t . . . no, do whatever it takes to get him back.”

  “We will,” Christian said. “Gwen, may we take your buggy?”

  “Of course.”

  “Where are we going?” July asked.

  “Do you remember where the feather brokerage was, on Washington?” Phoebe asked.

  “Yes.”

  “They live one block behind, on the corner of Seventeenth and Adams. It’s a big yellow house.”

  “They keep two red chairs on the front porch,” Crecy added.

  “Oh, Crecy, I hadn’t thought. They will have to know that you’re the one who told us. You’ll be in trouble.”

  “I won’t be in trouble, because I won’t go back. I threw my things out the back window and gathered them up before they saw me. I can’t work for such people no more.”

  “The longer July and I stay here, the longer it’ll be before we bring Will back to you.” Christian laid his fingers gently on Phoebe’s cheek, then bent down and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Don’t worry, we’ll bring him back. Maybe you should bake some cookies. I’ve never known anyone who liked cookies as much as Will. Well, maybe Wapi.”

  Phoebe smiled through her tears. “I’ll do that.”

  • • •

  “I do believe that one is the biggest man I ever did see,” Crecy said as Christian and July drove away. “Why does he talk like that?”

  “He’s from Africa.” Phoebe turned toward the house.

  “My grandma came from Africa. She always wanted to go home.”

  “Actually, July is a Zulu.”

  “A Zulu? My grandma was a Hottentot. and my grandpa was a Zulu, so that makes us kinfolk.”

  “I guess that’s right, but according to Christian, July is Shaka’s grandson,” Phoebe said. “Shaka was the greatest Zulu monarch in Bulawayo.”

  “Shaka? Everybody in South Africa has heard of him,” Ina Claire said. “I didn’t know that about July.”

  “So this July is a prince?” Crecy asked.

  Phoebe chuckled. “I never thought about it like that, but, yes, I suppose he is.”

  • • •

  “This is the house,” Christian said, stopping the buggy at the corner of Adams and Seventeenth.

  Christian tied the horse to the hitching post, then he and July knocked on the door.

  A man appearing to be in his early sixties opened the door. He looked irritated. “What do you want? We don’t engage with solicitors of any kind.”

  “We’re here to take Will Sloan back to his mother,” Christian said.

  “There’s nobody here by that name.”

  “Wet!” Will shouted as he came barreling through the house.

  “Come back here, you little brat!” a woman called as she chased after him.

  “Myrtle, you were supposed to keep that kid out of sight!” Chauncey Evans said.

  Will darted around Evans’s legs and Christian picked him up.

  “Wet, you’ve come to get me! I knew you would!” Will wrapped his arms around him. “I want to go to my house.”<
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  “Then that’s where we’ll go,” Christian said.

  “I don’t think so,” Evans said. “I was entrusted to care for this child, and I’m afraid I can’t let him go with strangers.”

  “It’s obvious we’re not strangers to Will. Let’s go home.” Christian turned and started down the steps of the porch.

  “Mister, I don’t know who you are, but I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

  Christian heard the distinct double clicking sound of a hammer pulled back on a revolver. He turned around to see Evans pointing a gun at him.

  “Put that kid down now or I’ll shoot you where you stand,” Evans said with an angry growl.

  In a lightning-quick move, July wrapped his big hand around Evans’s gun hand, squeezing down so hard that the man cried out in pain. When July eased his grip, Evans dropped the pistol.

  “You son of a bitch! You broke my fingers!” he shouted, grabbing his wounded hand with his other. “Just you wait, you’ll pay for this.”

  Christian set Will down, then picked up the revolver, which was now lying on the sidewalk. Opening the cylinder, he removed all the shells and dropped them in his pocket before he handed the empty pistol back to Evans.

  “Good day, Mr. Evans,” Christian said.

  “Take me home, Wet. Please take me home.” Will reached up to grab Christian’s hand, and the three of them walked back to the buggy with Evans screaming invectives at their backs.

  • • •

  “Will!” Phoebe shouted happily, running out to the buggy when Christian returned. She had her arms open and was laughing, Will stood up in the buggy, then fell into them.

  “I’m so happy to have you back home!” Phoebe smothered him with kisses.

  “I didn’t like that man, Mama.”

  “I don’t blame you, honey, I don’t like him either.”

  “That man was going to shoot Wet, but July made him drop his gun.”

  “What? Christian, is that right? Did Chauncey actually try to shoot you?”

  “Let’s just say that he attempted to prevent us from taking Will, but July found a way to dissuade him.”

  “Oh! I never dreamed he’d take it to that extreme.”

  “No harm was done,” Christian said, “except Mr. Evans may not be using his hand for a few days.”