A War of Daisies

by A. A. Chamberlynn

  Felicity gasped from the pain of her mother’s grip. “He was asking what songs I knew!”

  “That was all, was it?”

  Felicity pulled her arm away, her eyes stinging with tears.

  “If he thinks you’re one of those loose girls, just because we weren’t brought up like everyone else around here…” her mother hissed, venomous as a snake.

  “Mama, no—”

  “I am not going to have your marriage to the Blue Valley merchant ruined…spoiled…by any foolishness.”

  The indignity of it all was too much. She’d received genuine praise and excitement about her musical talent for the first time in her life, shared a smile with a boy, the preacher’s son, and her mother thought her virtue was at stake?

  The words came out with the force of a geyser. She was miles beyond tea kettle. “Did it ever occur to you that I don’t want you to choose a husband for me? That maybe, I don’t want a husband at all?”

  Her mother’s eyes widened with shock. She grabbed Felicity’s arm again, pushed her against the wall. “It doesn’t matter what you want, ungrateful girl!” She slapped her cheek, not hard enough to leave a mark, but hard enough to sting like hell. “You will do what we tell you! And I will be accompanying you to every practice. You will not so much as breathe without my permission, do you understand?”

  Felicity did understand. And the lightning within her did, too. It acted of its own accord, pulsing off Felicity’s body and into her mother, forcing her back.

  Her mother went still, unsure of what had just happened. She raised a hand, and Felicity felt sure another slap was in order. The next moment her mother doubled over, clutching her stomach, and ran for the bathroom, where she proceeded to retch up her entire dinner.

  Felicity stood, heart pounding, listening for several long moments. The lightning slowly faded away, the glow leaving her fingertips. She knew she should go check on her mother. But instead, she turned and walked out to the barn to fetch her book.

  Chapter Twenty

  Dynah

  When Dynah came to in the graveyard, she panicked so severely she nearly fainted again. But this time, the skeletons beneath the earth did not speak to her. Call to her. She got up off the ground and ran back to the creek.

  By the time she got back to the cabin with a fresh bucket of water, her mother was in a tizzy.

  “Where have you been?”

  Dynah glanced up at the clock on the wall. It had only taken her an extra twenty minutes or so. “Sorry, Mama, I twisted my ankle by the creek and had to rest for a bit before I could walk on it again.”

  Her mother grabbed the bucket of cold water and returned to the bedroom. “Don’t come in here. I don’t want you catching it, too.”

  Dynah waited in her bedroom. Time stretched on torturously. Worrying about her father. Worrying about Penelope. Trying to find a way to justify what had happened to her at the graveyard.

  She would have to confess to her mother that she’d gone quite insane. And then she’d be sent to that mental hospital in Long Pines where people went and never came back. Normal hospitals seemed to have the goal of treating patients and then releasing them back into the world. But not those with problems in their heads. No, those were simply designed to keep people in, away from ordinary folk.

  Ordinary folk.

  Dynah choked back a sob. She couldn’t burden her mother with this right now. After her father was better—if he got better—then she’d tell her. And maybe, just maybe, if stress had brought this on it would go away eventually. Then she wouldn’t have to tell anyone the things she’d seen. The things she’d felt.

  The minutes passed by like honey, slow and sticky. It was so quiet she could hear the ticking of the clock, hear the soft murmur of her mother in the next room praying. As the day wore on, Dynah moved out into the sitting room. Around four, she made dinner for herself and her mother; roasted chicken with beans and corn.

  Twice she had to make runs for more cold water. Too scared to return to the creek by the graveyard, she rode Moon bareback to another much farther away. Her mother was too preoccupied to notice.

  As afternoon faded into evening, the doctor came back to check on them. Dynah watched him and his black aura with a growing sense of dread. It seemed even bigger and darker than it had this morning. He declared her father’s condition worse and not better, and helped her mother give him more medicine. They whispered together at the bedside, and at one point the doctor reached out and rested a hand on her mother’s hand. Her mother’s face crumpled. It could mean only one thing.

  Night fell, full and heavy and bleak. The doctor had left hours ago. Or had it been minutes? Dynah couldn’t tell any longer. She stared out the window, counting the stars as they came out, watching the moon climb higher and higher. She wished her mother would let her help attend to her father. Anything but sitting here, waiting for him to die.

  And where the hell was Penelope? How could she abandon them at a time like this? Not that her sister had known Roy would fall so ill. But it still seemed unfair, that she should be off galivanting around when Dynah and her mother were stuck here in this cycle of misery.

  Worry for Penelope tempered her anger. Her sister was probably at Willow’s house—and if so, Dynah wanted to curse her out. But if she wasn’t…what if something had befallen her, a woman alone out in the world?

  Around midnight, Dynah made up her mind.

  She told her mother she was going to bed, which her mother barely acknowledged. Then she waited fifteen minutes in the dark of her room before she opened the window and crawled out. A thrill ran through her as she did—she’d never snuck out before. Penelope did all the time, but Dynah had watched her before and she only ever went out into the forest. Dynah seriously doubted she was meeting boys or getting into any mischief. But still, it wasn’t allowed, and so Dynah had never done it herself. Until now.

  Amongst the shadows and the songs of the crickets, she tiptoed out to the barn. Moon snorted and nickered as she approached, not seeming at all concerned by her nighttime visit. He seemed to glow in the darkness, a sterling glimmer of stars. Dynah’s emotions came surging out of her, and she pressed her face into his soft shoulder and let the tears she’d been holding the last twenty-four hours escape.

  Around Moon, she could be totally herself. He was the only one who didn’t care what she looked like. Didn’t judge her, expect things of her. Lust after her or envy her. He was just a horse, and she was just a girl.

  When she’d spent all her tears, she slipped on his bridle and mounted bareback again. Then she headed for Willow’s house. It sat on the complete opposite side of Hawk’s Hollow. Whereas Dynah’s house was directly west of town, only three miles out, Willow’s was much farther south and much farther east. She’d only been there once, but she reckoned she had about eight miles ahead of her. In the dead of night.

  She headed south first to skirt about the town, making sure not to get too close in case anyone awake spotted her. It wouldn’t do any good at all to get caught. Once she got out of the birch forest near her house and onto open ground, she loped Moon to pass the journey more quickly. Overhead, her horse’s namesake illuminated their path.

  After she passed to the south of town, cutting between the railroad station and the public arena, she headed east toward the river. The land was mostly flat and clear here, and she made good time. She slowed back down to a walk when, an hour and a half later, she approached the river and the ground became rocky. Once she got within sight of the water, she headed north.

  Trees began to pop up here and there, and Dynah steered Moon into a red rock canyon. Willow’s house had to be close. It had been years since she’d been there, and that had been during the day. Dynah didn’t recall that Willow had any neighbors in this area, at least she certainly hoped not. She didn’t want to get shot for trespassing.

  Finally, she saw the outline of Willow’s small cabin in the distance. She let out a sigh of relief, and Moon snorted to echo t
he emotion. As she covered the last few hundred yards, Dynah began to wonder how she’d wake Willow up at this time of night without getting shot.

  When they were a few feet away from the house, Moon tripped and Dynah barely stopped herself from falling off over his shoulder. She heard a loud clattering sound, followed by the clucking of chickens and the snort of a couple horses. A moment later, a tall, lanky boy came rushing out of the cabin, rifle in hand.

  “You’ve got a barrel’s-worth of rock salt pointed at your face,” came a low, gravelly voice. “You’d better state your business real damn fast.”

  “I’m here to see Willow!” Dynah shrieked, holding her hands up. “I’m her friend Dynah!”

  “Dynah?” A long pause. “I think the term friend is a bit of a stretch.”

  “Willow?” she gasped. “You—I thought you were—”

  “A man?” Dynah could hear the smirk in Willow’s voice. “That’s the point.”

  “Why would you want to be a man?”

  Dynah got only a sigh in response. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. Why are you at my house in the middle of the damn night?”

  “What was that sound? It seemed like Moon tripped on something…”

  “That would be my trip-wire.”

  Dynah’s eyebrows shot up. “You have this place booby-trapped?”

  “There have been… strange things going on around here. It seemed prudent.” Willow sighed and lowered her gun finally. “Listen, Dynah. It’s late. Why are you creeping around out here?”

  “I’m not creeping. I’m looking for Penelope.” Dynah tried to keep the desperation from her voice and failed.

  A very long pause. “Penelope? She’s gone?”

  “Oh, God.” Dynah felt a shudder move up her ribcage and into her throat. “If she’s not here, then—” She couldn’t finish.

  Willow took a couple steps closer. “Tell me what happened,” she said, her voice softening a tad.

  “Two nights ago, she got in a huge fight with Roy. I don’t know what came over her.”

  “Probably tired of Roy being a jerk,” Willow said drily.

  “Well, it wasn’t like her. And anyway, he’s probably about to die now!” Dynah wailed. She slumped over onto Moon’s neck and cried in his mane.

  “Wait, what?”

  But Dynah couldn’t speak for nearly a minute. When she’d finally pulled herself together, she sniffled and continued. “Penelope stormed off. And then Roy got sick. The doctor’s been out and everything, but he’s only getting worse.”

  “Uh…sorry.”

  Dynah could tell Willow wasn’t any good at comforting people. She sniffled again.

  “So, Penelope didn’t say where she was going?”

  Dynah shook her head. “I thought she’d come here. Where else would she go?”

  “Her tribe, obviously,” Willow retorted.

  Dynah went stiff. “Her tribe? The Indian tribe?”

  “The Navajo, yes,” Willow said in a patient and only slightly condescending tone. “They’re half her blood. She’s been wanting to learn more about that side of herself for… well, as long as we’ve been friends.”

  It made sense, Dynah supposed. But how had she not known this about her own sister?

  “So, Roy might die?” Willow asked.

  Dynah could see her face in the moonlight. She was chewing her bottom lip softly as if contemplating something. “Yes, probably,” she answered flatly. “That’s what the doctor told my mother.”

  Willow sighed. “Well, I suppose I need to go find her, then. She doesn’t have much love for the man, but I’m sure she wants to be there for you and your mama.”

  “Really?” It shocked her that Willow would embark on a journey into Navajo territory. She didn’t know what to say. “I, um, well I’d go with you, but I need to help my mama.”

  Willow nodded. “It’ll be quicker if I go alone anyway. I’ll go get Bullet now.”

  “In the middle of the night?”

  “Well, you’re out here, aren’t you?”

  Dynah shrugged. “Okay, then.” A pause. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “You can owe me. I’ll think of something later.” Willow grinned. She looked excited to be headed out in the middle of the night.

  “Well, I’ll wait for you to get your mare. We might as well ride part of the way together since we’re headed the same direction.”

  Willow nodded and headed back into her house. A few minutes later she came from around the back, mounted up on her chestnut mare, rifle at her side, a pistol at each hip. They flashed in the moonlight.

  “Let’s head out,” she said.

  The girls rode in silence at first, back along the river until they left the red rock canyon, then west across the plains. Something kept turning over in Dynah’s mind, like a pebble tumbled in a stream. She wanted to ask Willow if she’d seen the lightning that day during the sandstorm. Willow had said something about strange things happening. Maybe they’d experienced the same things? But Dynah couldn’t get up the nerve to ask. Willow already looked at her with disdain, and she’d only sound like a crazy person. No, she’d just have to wait until her sister got back.

  If Willow could find her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Willow

  Just past the train station, Willow and Dynah parted ways. Dynah headed her gray gelding north, and Willow kept due west. The early summer heat which clung to the earth long after the sun went down had finally dissipated from the desert plains. It was that cool, quiet, purple part of the night, past the moon’s zenith and inching towards dawn.

  When the sun finally did begin to peek up along the horizon, Willow felt it more than she saw it, being behind her in the east. A lightening of the sky, both in color and weight. A stir in the slumber of the planet. And there was something else. Willow realized, without knowing when or how it started, that she could feel Penelope.

  It felt kind of like firing her gun. Sighting down the length of the barrel at her target. Her finger squeezing the trigger, soft and light. The gunfire, the pop as bullet hit target. In between all of that, there existed a moment when she knew if she would make the shot or not. A line of connection between her gut and her goal.

  This felt the same way.

  She couldn’t explain it, but then, there’d been a lot of things she couldn’t explain lately. The connection between her and her best friend told her to turn south, so she did. And as a line of plum and persimmon began to flame along the horizon to her left, and the sun began its inevitable, inexorable climb, she saw a rider off in the distance.

  As the rider approached, Willow stiffened. Buckskin horse. Black-haired man. Lean muscles and blue eyes. Well, she couldn’t see the eyes yet. But she knew who it was.

  “I’m beginning to think you’re followin’ me, cowboy,” Zane said in his musical drawl.

  A shiver, quickly suppressed. “That would be interesting, being as how I’m coming from the opposite direction.”

  Zane chuckled and pulled his horse to a halt, so they faced each other. “I’m just messing with you. I know what you’re doing out here.”

  “Do you?” She raised her brows.

  “Practicing. Just like I am.”

  “Not this time. I’m actually looking for a friend.”

  Zane stared at her, the edges of his lips quirked up. “At the crack of dawn? You must have departed hours ago.”

  Willow shrugged. “It’s a matter of some urgency.”

  “Well, mind if I join you?”

  Yes. No. Oh, hell… “If you don’t mind traveling into Navajo territory.”

  Zane’s lips quirked even further. “Are you friendly with the Navajo?”

  “Well, my best friend is half Navajo, and she’s on the reservation at the moment.”

  “She? Your best friend is a girl?”

  Willow bit her lip. She hadn’t meant to say that. This was exactly why she shouldn’t be spending time with Zane. “Woman, not girl. And
yes.”

  “Okay.” Zane’s gaze penetrated her, as if searching her very soul. “And no, I don’t mind. I need to add some miles to my practice run anyway.”

  “Well, follow me, then.” Willow squeezed her legs to Bullet’s sides, and they continued.

  Since the sun had risen and she could see, Willow moved Bullet into a lope to make better time. They moved across the plains, and Willow made a game in her head of chasing the fresh sunbeams as they stretched across the earth, the illumination moving farther and farther west. She relaxed somewhat and almost forgot about the cowboy riding at her side.

  After an hour of alternating between a trot and a lope, they let the horses walk. Willow swung off and pulled down the water skin she’d hung behind her saddle. She offered water to Bullet first, then took a sip herself, then offered some to Zane. He nodded and took a swig, and she tried not to watch as a trickle of water ran down his lips and jawline.

  Dear God. Get ahold of yourself.

  Zane handed back the water skin, and they remounted and continued at a walk.

  They’d traveled in silence for a good while, and Willow had grown sick of it. She looked over at him. “So, you’ve been sort of mysterious about where you came from, but maybe you can tell me some of the places you’ve been?”

  Zane met her gaze. “I can do that. If you tell me more about this best friend of yours.”

  Willow nodded. “Deal.”

  Zane leaned back in the saddle, one hand resting on his thigh. “I’ve been all over, really. Denver. Fort Worth. San Antonio. Santa Fe. Tombstone. Sheridan.”

  Willow tried not to look as impressed as she was. And as jealous. “Oh, yeah? And what do you typically do when you’re not entering races?”

  He shrugged. “A little bit of this and that. Mostly helping out on ranches. Done some work on railroads.” He looked over at her. “That was two questions, you cheater. Your turn.”