She tipped her hat to the cowboys and galloped off. So far, so good. Everything was going according to plan. Victory hovered so close she could taste the metallic tang of it on her tongue.
Naturally, that’s when the storm started to roll in.
Willow could tell it was going to be a bad one. Dark clouds, nearly black, stampeding like buffalo across the sky. The wind picked up, and in the distance, she could see flashes of lightning strike a couple buttes. The mountains were three miles off at least. Would it be better to be out in the open when the storm caught her, or find shelter? It was hard to choose such things when contending with Mother Nature.
She decided to make for the mountains. Even if she didn’t make it, or even if she couldn’t find a safe, high place out of the way of flash floods and the like, she wanted to gain as many miles as she could before the storm forced her to slow down. They didn’t have extra time to waste.
Bullet accelerated across the plains. They raced the storm now, a competition apart from the cowboys. Horse, woman, lightning, thunder. Raw energy, streaking across the wide-open. Rebels against the wind. When the rain started to pelt them, it felt like gunfire, hot and sharp. Nothing matched the fury of a summer storm, with all its pent-up heat and frustration.
They were soaked to the bone in less than a minute. Willow lost sight of the mountains as a curtain of driving rain swept down in front of them. The downpour extinguished the last rays of the sun. Darkness raged around them.
Willow slowed Bullet to a walk. She couldn’t see shit and she wasn’t going to risk her horse. The footing was soup as well, sucking at them, hungry. Willow turned her face down, letting her hat take the force of the rain. She patted Bullet’s neck to comfort her. And they walked on.
A few minutes later Willow heard hoofbeats. She turned, but she still couldn’t see a thing. She thought she heard a horse neigh to her left, but the wind howled like a banshee and she couldn’t be sure.
Then he was there in the darkness on his buckskin. Zane. Drenched, as Willow was, his black hair plastered to his face. Thunder clapped overhead and a bolt of purple lightning kissed the ground not a hundred yards away, illuminating everything around them, sending a jolt of energy through Willow’s veins. And just for a moment, in the flash, she thought Zane had wings.
Their eyes met. Willow wasn’t sure what it was. The race, the storm. The heat from the lightning. The fragility of life in that moment. She swung her leg over Bullet’s neck and dismounted in one smooth movement; Zane kicked out of his stirrups and did the same. Their eyes never left each other’s as they took two strides and came together with all the power and urgency of the maelstrom pounding around them.
Willow snaked her hand around the back of Zane’s neck, and he grabbed her hips with both hands. They crushed the space between them. Thighs touching, hearts beating against each other. Lips hungry and searching. Zane was her oxygen, and Willow devoured him. And it still wasn’t enough.
She tugged at his shirt, snatching at the buttons, and he did the same with hers. It took a moment, in the torrential rain, but she finally managed to tug it off. Zane threw it off into the darkness somewhere. Her shirt came next, and then she turned in a slow circle as he unwound the binding around her chest.
Belts came next, tossed into the mud, jeans yanked down, boots flung off. Until it was only them, bare beneath the force of nature. The wind and the rain and the fire in the sky. Lightning struck again, closer this time, and the earth shook. They looked at each other in the brilliance. Willow trembled in awe and in fear and in pleasure.
Then, she tugged Zane to the earth with her, and they created their own glorious storm.
Chapter Thirty
Penelope
Penelope had seen Willow start the race that morning and then spent the rest of the day watching the rodeo. The trick riding wasn’t until the second day, so she’d had all day to get her stomach tied in knots.
Luckily, bronco riding proved to somewhat distract her from her nerves. Mustangs brought from all over the state, some even from as far as Wyoming. Chestnuts and bays, grays and Appaloosas. A couple stunning paints and buckskins. They looked different, but each had one thing in common: they were wild as hell. Hand-picked for the competition because of their unbreakable spirits.
It made Penelope sad to see them man-handled by the cowboys. But the horses seemed to take great pleasure in throwing one after another. Discovering new and extraordinary aerial feats off the ground. Stomping on the ones who didn’t get out of the ring fast enough. It was thrilling and terrifying to watch.
Dynah had been there all day, too, though they hadn’t spoken. Penelope wondered if her sister realized she’d signed up for the rodeo. If Dynah thought for a second that she would sit this one out, she was sadly mistaken. And with Roy mostly better, neither of them had to feel guilty about it. He’d been up this morning sitting at the dining room table when they’d left for the start of the race.
Penelope’s eyes darted over to her sister, who seemed attached at the hip to Billy-the-brainless-cowboy. Dynah was laughing in that way that only her sister could laugh. Not a care in the world. Well, at least that’s what everyone thought. What she herself had thought, until recently. But Dynah had been trying to tell her something when they’d fought the other day. About strange things happening since the dust cyclone. And as much as Penelope wanted to disregard it, she knew her sister was right.
A sigh escaped her lips. She’d been too angry the other day, but she needed to talk to Dynah about it. Tonight. She’d ask her sister to tell her everything, and then they’d figure something out. Penelope wanted to get back to her clan, and she couldn’t do that if this was hanging over her head.
When late afternoon cast golden fingers of light over the arena, Penelope turned for home. She wanted to get in a practice session with Domino before the big event tomorrow, and she certainly wasn’t going to do it here. She steered Domino over to where Dynah sat on Moon, surrounded by pretty much every boy their age.
“I’m headed home to practice,” she called to her sister. “Why don’t you join me?”
“Maybe in a bit,” Dynah said.
“We need to talk,” Penelope said in a tone that sent a clear message to her sister. They locked eyes a moment, then Penelope turned Domino and headed for home.
Dynah caught up to her a quarter-mile later. By this point, Penelope was passing Hawk’s Hollow on the west side, heading north. The noise of the rodeo had fallen behind them. They rode in silence for a short while.
“About the other night,” Penelope said finally. “You wanted to tell me something.”
“You didn’t seem interested,” Dynah said.
She sounded prideful and prickly, but beneath it, Penelope detected an undernote of pain. She looked over at her sister. “I’m interested now.”
Dynah remained silent for another minute, seeming to get up the courage to speak. When she finally did, her voice was hushed, as if even here, out in the open away from the eyes and ears of the town, she thought that someone would hear her.
“It started after the dust storm,” she began. “I started to see things. Things no one should see.”
“Like what?”
“Dr. Hudson. He had this… black fog around him when he visited daddy.”
Penelope looked over at her sister, but Dynah stared out into the trees now, as if seeing it all over again. The road veered off through tall grasses up into the valley, and the horses headed home without any direction from the girls; they knew the way.
“Then, one day when I went to get water from the creek…” Dynah stopped speaking and shivered. “I could… feel the bodies in the graveyard calling to me.”
Penelope took a moment to absorb what she’d heard. “I’ve definitely felt different ever since the dust storm,” she finally admitted. “It seems when I get really angry that…”
Dynah’s blue eyes burned into her. “That what?”
“That people get sick.” Penelope shoulders shrunk in as
she said it, as if she could protect herself from her sister’s judgment.
“Like Daddy.”
Penelope nodded slowly. “I wasn’t trying to.”
Dynah fell silent for so long that Penelope felt sure that her sister was angry, that her confession had driven an even larger wedge in between them. She hadn’t thought it could get any wider.
“He’s never treated you well,” Dynah said at last.
Penelope’s head jerked over to look at Dynah.
“I’m sorry I never said anything,” Dynah added.
“You were just following our mother’s example,” Penelope said softly. “I’ve been a constant reminder of her previous life, and I’m fairly certain she would erase all of that if she could. Including me.”
Dynah winced. “I know it seems like that. But she loves you.”
Penelope shrugged. “She’s never done anything to show that she does.”
They rode in silence for a half-mile, each in their own thoughts.
“It’s not just us,” Dynah said at last.
“Not just us?”
“Felicity, the merchant’s daughter, she’s been having strange things happen to her as well.”
Penelope’s eyes widened. “If she is, too, then that means—”
“Willow probably is.”
“So, the dust storm, or the lightning, did… something… to all four of us.”
The words hung in the air between them, lingering in the heat and the scent from the trees.
“What are we going to do?” Dynah asked.
“We need to get together. All four of us.”
“Willow won’t be back from the race until tomorrow.”
Penelope nodded. “We finish the rodeo. Then we snag her as soon as she rides in.”
Dynah worried her lower lip between her teeth. “Felicity and I saw a fortune teller that came in town for the rodeo. She said we were touched by evil and then she left town.”
“My grandmother—Nascha—she said darkness had touched me,” Penelope said. “I think we should all go see her. She won’t turn us away.”
Dynah’s eyes sparked with what seemed to be hope. “That sounds like a good idea.”
They rode the rest of the way back to the homestead discussing lighter subjects like the rodeo. When they got back, they each practiced with their horses, then bathed them and put them in stalls for the night with alfalfa hay. Finally, as the sky turned purple, they headed inside for dinner.
When Penelope finally got into bed for the night, she felt, for the first time in a very, very long time, that she actually had a sister.
The sun rose the next day in a blaze of promise. Penelope would compete in her first rodeo. They’d find Felicity and Willow and seek out answers to the strangeness that had taken over their lives. She’d be reunited with her clan.
Their mother was already up, making a hearty breakfast of biscuits and eggs and steak. The earthy smell of coffee boiling in the kettle made Penelope’s stomach grumble. She sat down at the table as Dynah came bustling into the room, resplendent in one of her new blouses. She had something slung over her arm, which she tossed to Penelope.
“You’d look amazing in this lavender,” she said. “I certainly don’t need both of these new blouses.”
“Thanks,” Penelope said, feeling warmth spread through her chest.
Their mother turned and looked at them both, a question in her eyes, before setting the plates on the table in front of them. “I wish I didn’t have to miss the rodeo.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “But I don’t think your father is feeling quite back to normal, and I can’t just leave him here.”
“It’s okay, Mama,” Dynah said.
Penelope just nodded. It didn’t make any difference to her, and the comment hadn’t been directed at her anyhow. Their mother grabbed her own plate of food and sat down with them, and the three of them ate in a comfortable silence. After they finished, Penelope and Dynah washed and dried the dishes.
“We’d better be getting on our way,” Dynah said.
“I’ll go change my shirt,” Penelope said.
“I’ll wait for you.”
Penelope ducked into their room and quickly changed her old brown top for the crisp, new lavender one Dynah had gotten at the haberdashery a week ago. Her sister was right—it did look lovely against her cinnamon skin. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a new blouse. She grabbed her chaps and her suede hat and headed back to the front of the house.
“Good luck,” their mother said as Dynah opened the front door. “To both of you.” And her eyes met Penelope’s for the barest of moments.
Penelope, who had been halfway through the door, turned to her mother and smiled. That’s when she saw Roy standing in the doorway to his bedroom.
A growl came from his throat. “I told you before, girl, you are not competing in that rodeo.”
“Roy—” their mother began.
“Be quiet, woman,” he said. “Do you think because I’ve been ill you all can do whatever you want? I’m still the head of this household.”
He directed this last part to Penelope, his blue eyes daggers of ice.
“Daddy, don’t overexert yourself,” Dynah said, stepping back into the kitchen. “You’re just starting to feel better.”
“I don’t need your mouth, either,” he snarled. “Go out to the barn and get your horse. I’m going to have a word with Penelope.”
Penelope could see her sister’s eyes flicker with fear, and a tremble ran up her arms. “Go on, Dynah,” she said quietly. “The rodeo needs its queen.”
Dynah straightened. “No. I’m not going to the rodeo unless Penelope comes with me.”
Roy’s eyes bugged out of his head. “You’ll do as I say. Now!”
“Come on, Pen,” Dynah said, grabbing Penelope’s hand. They walked out of the house.
Penelope heard a roar like a bull behind them as Roy’s temper exploded. Their steps quickened as they made their way around the side of the house toward the barn. Penelope felt her blood racing in her veins, her heart pounding in her jawline like a drum. They reached the barn and saddled the horses as quickly as they could. In less than five minutes they were back outside. Penelope swung into the saddle.
It was then that Roy came around the corner of the house, carrying his shotgun.
Chapter Thirty-One
Felicity
A dusty arena certainly seemed no place for a grand piano. The crowd gathered for the start of the second day of the rodeo turned and stared as several men from the church helped heave the huge polished instrument out of the back of a wagon and onto the wooden stage at the head of the arena.
Morning sun peeked across the plains. Felicity turned from watching the men set up the piano and found herself looking around for Dynah. Her cheeks blushed, as if the people around her could read her thoughts. She shouldn’t have given in to her feelings. They were wrong and she knew it. At least, that’s what the church and her mother had always told her.
It had been a test, and clearly, she’d failed. At the first glimmer of attention from the Rodeo Queen, Felicity had fallen headfirst. And been rejected. Obviously Dynah liked men, as women were supposed to. Dynah also quite clearly no longer held interest in figuring out these strange things happening to them. In figuring out why electricity sparked between them when they touched, like a storm in their blood. Felicity had gone home that night, after the incident with the fortune teller, and she’d ripped out all the pages in her secret book in the barn and burned them inside a lantern. Watched each page curl and wither and die, consumed by flame.
No more dreaming of girls. No more fanciful thinking.
The first day of the rodeo had been a nice distraction. She’d played harp several times, both solo and with a group from church. The audience seemed to enjoy it, and she’d heard none of the usual whispered comments about the color of her skin or her family. It had been blissfully normal. Best yet, her mother still felt poorly so her
father had allowed her to go alone, under the supervision of the preacher and his wife, of course.
Today, with the arrival of the piano, she and Travis would entertain the crowd with their duets, right up until the race riders started to come in, the grand finale of the hundred-mile race. The day before, everyone had waited eagerly as the messenger birds arrived, one by one, with each rider’s position at the halfway point. Felicity had been surprised and secretly pleased that Willow, going by Will Bullet, had been in first place.
Travis appeared at her side, jolting her from her thoughts. “Want to do a practice run? Before the crowd gets even thicker?”
The rodeo started in another thirty minutes. Felicity nodded. “Good idea.”
The piano now stood in the center of the stage, and she followed Travis up the steps at the back. They sat down at the piano, a respectable distance apart. Felicity shifted her cream-colored skirt and held her arms up over the keys. Tiny mother-of-pearl buttons ran down the sleeves at her wrists, and up her throat at the front. It was oppressively hot, so hot even the mosquitos weren’t out.
“Ready?” she asked Travis.
He nodded and they began. They ran through several songs. They’d played so much together in the last week that they could pick up on a shift in tune from each other almost instantaneously. For fun, they went back and forth, changing songs to see if the other would miss a note. It had become somewhat of a game for them. They did it now, letting their fingers warm up, getting into the rhythm of the music. Travis looked over at her several times, grinning, and she found herself grinning right back.
After a few minutes, they stopped. Though it hadn’t been an official performance, they still got a round of applause from those close by, and a few hoots and hollers of appreciation. Travis offered her his hand to help her off the piano bench, and then again when they descended the steps of the stage.
Felicity walked over to the church’s covered wagon where some of the women, including Abigail, were setting up a makeshift water station for the musicians. As Felicity approached, several of them clapped and smiled, and one of them handed her a tin cup of water. She drank thirstily, then walked around to the front of the wagon to check on Music where she stood hobbled with the wagon horses.
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