To the Gap (Daughter of the Wildings #4)

by Kyra Halland

  Her words, with no trace of doubt or uncertainty in them, sank soft and sweet into his mind and heart. A pain in his heart eased; he had gotten so used to it that he had stopped noticing it until now, when it was gone. Against his will, tears welled in his eyes and slipped free, but he didn’t care, or try to hide them. He couldn’t even feel ashamed; what were a few tears compared to hearing that the woman who was his life and heart wanted to be with him no matter what?

  “Oh, baby.” With her fingers and her lips, she brushed the moisture from his cheeks. “I was never going to leave you. I just wanted you to understand what leaving the Wildings would mean for both of us and to think of a better way to face our troubles.”

  He didn’t know if there was a better way. But he didn’t want to let the question come between them again. “We don’t have to talk about it any more for now. But I won’t make you go if you don’t want to.”

  She kissed him again. His love for her, and his need to keep her close to him, swelled within him. He kissed her long and deep, then shifted her onto her back and made love to her as though he’d been hungering for a month.

  Chapter 12

  THE LAST THREE ninedays of the drive passed peacefully, or, at least, without anyone trying to kill Silas and Lainie. But neither was anyone aside from Paslund, the bosses who had stood up for them, and a few of the Bentwood Gulch and Thornwood men particularly civil to them. Mrs. Bington refused to let Lainie go back to work at the grub wagon. When the hands grumbled about the bland stews and beans and the tough biscuits, Mrs. Bington glared at them and said, “It’s better than having some wizard tryin’ to poison you,” and the complaining stopped.

  Eventually, Lainie gave up trying to return to her duties at the grub wagon and spent the rest of the drive riding with Silas, helping with the herding and keeping his night watch shift with him. Even without anyone actively trying to kill them, she wondered if she really could live with this silent, sullen rejection the rest of her life. She and Silas didn’t talk any more about where to go after the drive; they seemed to have reached an unspoken agreement to let it wait until after they saw Mrs. Horden. But more and more often, Lainie found her mind returning to the question in spite of her efforts to not think about it.

  Five months after the Windy Valley herd departed from home, the northern herd reached the Gap. The southern herd, fifteen thousand head, had already arrived. As they approached the broad, grassy valley that stretched several leagues north, west, and south from the mouth of the Gap, the odor of cattle droppings was so thick in the air that even Lainie, who’d grown up among cattle, was nearly knocked out of her saddle by it.

  “Do you ever get used to it?” Silas asked, his voice muffled by the bandana covering his nose and mouth.

  Lainie tried to fan the smell away from her face; her own bandana was sadly inadequate. “I guess you don’t.”

  The valley at the Gap was well-watered by numerous mountain streams and by the Gap River, which here, at the beginning of its mighty journey to the western sea, was a clear, fast-running mountain creek. Broad, sturdy wooden bridges allowed cattle and men to cross the river without fouling the water. The grass in the valley was unnaturally lush, even considering the abundant water and fertilization. Though she kept her mage senses deeply buried, Lainie could feel the magical power that hung thick in the air. “Lots of mages here,” she murmured to Silas as they helped bring the herd in to the grazing grounds.

  “There’ll probably be a hundred or more working at the market. Some of them are keeping the grass growing.”

  “To keep the cattle fed. I know about that.”

  “Also,” Silas pointed to a distant cluster of wooden buildings near the entrance to the pass, “that smallest building over there, that’s the mage hunter way station. I’ve dropped off prisoners there to be taken through the Gap.”

  Lainie looked at him in alarm. “Hunters?”

  “The men there won’t be expecting a couple of renegades to show up right on the doorstep of the way station. Anyhow, the drive is more work than most rogues are interested in, and between you suppressing your power and my shield blending in with the rest of the magic around here, I doubt they’ll have any idea we’re here. I’m more worried about the mages at the market noticing us. But I still wanted you to know, so you can be on the lookout. Make sure you keep your power hidden –”

  “I am.”

  “And your mage ring on the other finger.”

  “It is.” She showed him her left hand. “You’ve only reminded me about a hundred times in the last month.”

  He gave her a quick grin. “And lay low and keep out of sight till we can get our pay and get out of here.”

  “I will if you will.” She grinned back at him. Even with all those mages around, she couldn’t feel too worried, not when she was finally seeing for herself the Gap and the big cattle market.

  The day after they arrived at the Gap, the hands worked from sunup to sunset to separate the cattle back into individual co-op herds. The next day, they made one final count of the herds. Both days, Landstrom and the other co-op managers stomped around with their noteboards and papers, swearing and sweating. The work required all the hands to communicate freely with each other, so the other hands had no choice but to break their silence of the last three ninedays and speak to Silas and Lainie. Before long, the hard work seemed to wear down the barriers between them, and a few of the hands even started talking and joking with Silas just like before. The amount of work was mind-boggling and body-wearying, but to Lainie it seemed almost majestic – the hard-working hands and the cattle that together were the source of the wealth that allowed the Wildings settlers to live in peace and freedom.

  The day following the count, the livestock inspections began. The buyers from Granadaia had set up office in big tents pitched on the great market ground next to the road leading up into the Gap, and now their inspectors worked their way through the herds, taking notes of the number and quality of the cattle and sheep. Silas and Lainie stayed busy with chores well away from the main action of the inspections, but Lainie still watched as much as she could, as interested in the inspections as she was in keeping a sharp eye out for trouble.

  Most of the buyers and inspectors were mages, identifiable by the mage rings they wore on the forefinger of their strong hands; the rest were favored Plains. Despite the heat, dirt, and stink, they were all dressed up in fancy, expensive clothing. Many of them wore elegantly-tailored suits, but at least as many were decked out in greenfoot clothes, fancifully styled and decorated versions of the work clothes worn by cowhands along with high-heeled boots with tooling that had probably taken longer to work than the cow that had provided the leather had lived and oversized hats with extravagantly curved brims.

  Even from a distance, Lainie couldn’t miss the mages’ disdain for the Wildings folk they were dealing with, that showed clear as day in their haughty looks and barely polite speech. The mages’ Plain employees were every bit as snooty as their bosses. For their part, out of sight and hearing of the Granadaians, the drive hands mercilessly mocked their cultured accents, elegant, arrogant manners, and fancy clothes. The Plain employees, being considered nothing less than traitors to their own kind, came in for at least as much scorn as the mages did.

  Despite the dislike and contempt that simmered, barely concealed, beneath the surface, open fights rarely broke out. But the second morning of the inspections, while Silas and Lainie were bringing in a calf that had been born on the trail for branding, angry shouting caught Lainie’s attention. Her stomach clenched with nerves at how close the argument was, and she looked up from wrestling the calf to see what was going on.

  A mage in a brightly-embroidered yellow greenfoot suit was standing face-to-face with a burly drive hand. A shimmer of power surrounded the mage. “You’ll show respect for your betters, Plain!”

  “You ain’t my better, not with that stupid suit and them soft hands!” the hand retorted.

  “You have n
o idea what I can do to you!” The mage raised a hand to begin shaping an attack.

  An irrational fear seized Lainie that if the mage lashed out with magic so close to her and Silas, they would surely be discovered. She swallowed hard, praying that a fight wouldn’t break out.

  “What’s going on here?” a Wildings man said as he approached the arguing men. Sunlight glinted on a silver badge on his shirt; he was one of the dozen or so sheriffs and deputies helping to keep the peace at the market.

  At the same time, a man in close-fitting black also appeared. The knot in Lainie’s stomach twisted even tighter. She glanced at Silas; though he was keeping his head turned and his eyes fixed on the recalcitrant calf, he looked as nervous as she felt. Those mages in black were Mage Council enforcers. Silas hadn’t needed to tell her to stay clear of them.

  “Mr. Zarendias,” the enforcer said. “Mind yourself.” Though the words and voice were calm and polite, the iron threat behind them was clear.

  After a brief hesitation, the angry mage let his show of power fade. With a final poisonous look at each other, he and the drive hand backed away and went about their business. Lainie let go the breath she’d been holding, and the tension drained out of her body. She looked at Silas again; a sweat that she didn’t think was entirely due to the heat beaded his face. The calf chose that moment to try to make a break for it, and without a word, they went back to their task. That had been as close to a Mage Council enforcer as she ever hoped to come. With any luck, they would get through the rest of the market without seeing so much as one more black stitch of enforcer clothing.

  After the inspections were finished, the bidding began. Chaos reigned as buyers and co-op managers hurried among the herds and back and forth between the buyers’ tents, looking worried and hassled and scribbling notes on the sheets of paper nailed to their noteboards. Before long, reports began to make their way through the drive crews that two of the mage families represented at the market were trying to buy up as many of the cattle as possible. Rumors as to why ran wild; some people said those families planned to begin shipping beef and cattle to the Islands, while others speculated that they had been contracted to supply warring armies in the foreign lands with meat and leather. Lainie thought it was more likely that they just wanted to take control of the beef market in Granadaia, but that explanation wasn’t nearly as interesting. Whatever the reasons behind the attempt to corner the market, the result was a growing excitement among the drive crews over the rising prices, which would mean big bonuses for everyone.

  While the mage families’ representatives battled to out-bid each other for cattle, an informal market sprang up on the fringes of the market grounds. With promises to Silas to keep her head down and her power buried, Lainie ventured over to sell the stingergrass she had collected and dried along the trail. At first, she was almost too nervous to speak to her Granadaian customers, but she soon realized that as far as they were concerned, she was just another Wildings woman selling herbs. They barely even looked at her, just at her wares, and spoke only to bargain on prices. Still, she kept her hat pulled down low, which also served the more innocent purpose of keeping the sun out of her face, and likewise spoke as little as possible, and kept her power buried as deep inside her as she could.

  The few other women with the northern herd were also at the market, including Mrs. Bington, who was selling cakes and embroideries. Lainie had never really even met the other women, and they all kept their distance from her. She was a little worried they would say something about her to the mages, but, much as they disliked her, no one wanted to risk drawing undue attention from the Granadaian mages, and no one said anything about her at all.

  More women had come with the southern herd, since the route it traveled wasn’t as long, and a number of them were also at the market, selling herbs, knitted shawls and scarves, embroidered handkerchiefs, and other items they had made during the drive. Lainie kept her distance from them as well, but on the second day, on seeing Lainie alone, several of them beckoned her over to share their table, which had proved to be popular with buyers. There was slender, dark-haired Flania Gralen, the wife of a cowhand, who had her year-old son with her; Melna Bordine, a golden-haired girl close to Lainie’s age, who also worked as a cook and was married to a drive hand; and the Misses Gormund, Tarla and Nan, two spinster sisters in their thirties, who told the others to just call them by their given names. They owned a grub wagon and were engaged to a pair of brothers who had a ranch near Canyon View, just south of the Roughs.

  “And what’s your name, dear?” Tarla asked.

  “Lainie,” Lainie answered. Her given name wasn’t entirely rare, but the name “Vendine” had managed to get around despite all the name-slip charms, and she didn’t want to connect herself to any rumors the women might have heard or deal with the complications of using a false name. To her relief, the other women didn’t prod her for her family name. The Wildings was a place where people could make a fresh start in life, as many times as they needed to, and if someone didn’t want to share their full name it was only common courtesy to not keep asking.

  As they sold their wares and shared their lunch, the five of them swapped tales of the drive and exchanged useful bits of information. After being around mostly men for so long, except for the disapproving presence of Mrs. Bington, Lainie enjoyed the friendly female company. As well, she felt safer blending into a group instead of standing out alone here at the market grounds with so many mages around. She wondered if the women would still be so friendly if they knew she was a wizard. She liked to think so; the last month of the drive, discouraging as it had been, and the first few days at the market had shown her that a few Plains could get over their fear and dislike of mages, or, at least, of mages they knew personally.

  The auction drew to a climax, and all the talk among the drive crews was of the expected record-high payouts and the big celebration and dance that would mark the conclusion of the market. Merchants, saloon keepers, and house ladies from the nearby towns had already started arriving at the valley below the Gap to offer their wares and services to the celebrating drive workers.

  Among the women at the market, the talk turned to the dresses they would be wearing to the dance. Lainie listened with a combination of envy and interest. Back home in Bitterbush Springs, she had gone to town dances and ranch dances as often as she could; she liked the music, and she liked to dance though she didn’t think she was very good at it. But she hadn’t owned a dress since she was a child, not being a skilled enough seamstress to sew one herself and not having a mother, aunt, grandmother, or older sister to help her. And it wouldn’t have been worth the money to pay a seamstress to make one or to buy one ready-made for the few times she would have worn it. On occasion, she had borrowed a dress to wear to a dance, but mostly she just wore her usual pants and shirt, and most times she hadn’t been the only girl dressed that way.

  “You are going to the dance, aren’t you, Lainie?” Melna asked. “What are you going to wear?”

  Lainie looked down at her worn and dirty brown canvas pants and green plaid shirt. “I don’t have any dresses, so I’ll just clean up what I’ve got and wear that.” She tried to sound like she didn’t mind. Wearing men’s clothes didn’t make her less of a woman, any more than a love of beauty made a man less of a man. Still, it would have been nice to have something pretty to put on.

  The four women exchanged significant glances. “Well, now,” Tarla said. “That won’t do at all. We’ll have to think of something, won’t we, girls?”

  They all enthusiastically agreed, and Lainie warmed inside at their friendliness. Maybe they wouldn’t be so friendly if they knew the truth about her, but, for now, she wouldn’t let anything stop her from enjoying their company and looking forward to the celebration.

  * * *

  THE AUCTION CAME to an end, the sales agreements were signed, and the money – cash only; the cattlemen’s co-ops didn’t accept letters of credit – changed hands. The woo
l was loaded into light, narrow transport carts and hauled up into the Gap right away, followed by the several hundred sheep that had been sold. The cowhands spent that same day separating the sold cattle into herds of one thousand head, and the next morning the first couple of herds were driven up the road and into the pass. The first autumn snows could hit the higher reaches of the Gap in less than a month, so there was no time to waste in getting the stock through the pass. Some of the hands who would be taking the herds to Granadaia had also worked the long drive; others, who specialized in making the trip through the Gap, had been waiting at the market. All of them would be paid handsomely for the difficult, dangerous duty.

  That same day brought the events the drive crews had been looking forward to for months – pay day and the big dance. After the morning chores, Lainie and Silas got in line with the rest of the Windy Valley crew at the grub wagon serving table, where Landstrom sat surrounded by ledgers and cash boxes. Armed sheriffs and deputies patrolled the camps; guns were forbidden in the pay line. The hands were smiling widely as they walked away from the table, counting their pay; the cattle had sold for upwards of ten gildings and twenty per head, and, as hoped, the bonuses were fat this year.

  As Silas and Lainie waited in the sticky heat, Silas worked out the numbers under his breath and on his fingers. “It’s going to be more than enough for… whatever we decide to do,” he said.

  Lainie suspected that he hadn’t completely given up on his idea of going overseas. She had her own ideas; they could stake out or buy a spread of their own, somewhere remote where mage hunters would be less likely to find them, and become hard-working and respected members of the local community. When their neighbors found out they were mages, they would have already won their friendship and acceptance, and the local folks would see that mages weren’t so bad. That would be far better than going to the other side of the world and leaving behind her Pa and everything she knew forever.