Moonlight and Magic

by Rebecca Paisley

  Sterling, lost in the wild story she’d told him, failed to notice Pegasus stretch out his long neck toward him. But he did feel the camel’s painful bite when its teeth nipped at his shoulder. “Damn!” he yelled, and swiped at Pegasus. “He bit the hell—”

  “Honestly, Sterling,” Chimera said, heading out of the barn. “You’re in sad shape. Your ribs are bruised, your chest is slashed to pieces, your bottom is scalded, and now you have a camel bite on your shoulder. If you don’t take better care of yourself, you’ll never be able to do your duties.”

  Sterling was relieved to see the skin wasn’t broken. He threw Pegasus a nasty look and followed Chimera into the cabin. He had no intention of being her hero, and now was the time to tell her. Of course, he’d wait until she’d fed him first, he decided.

  Once inside, Chimera laid Venus on Archibald’s cot, stirred the vegetables Archibald had started, and took a small bag of flour from her pantry. “To answer your question, Sterling,” she said, and dumped a measure of flour into a bowl, “Everett Sprague is a nearby land baron who wants to buy my land. I politely refused to sell, so now he sends his henchmen to threaten me into selling. But I wouldn’t sell it for all the gold in the world.” She bustled back to the pantry.

  “Sentimental value, huh?” Sterling ventured absently, and rubbed his throbbing shoulder. “You don’t really ride that vicious beast out there, do you?”

  “Well, of course I ride him! He’s the only mount I have. I trained him to pull a wagon too. He doesn’t like it much, but—”

  “Fine, fine,” he cut in, realizing she was about to launch into another of her annoying stories. “Why is this land worth more than all the gold—”

  “It’s the gnomes,” she answered, and started working on biscuit dough. “If I sold this land, where would they go? They certainly wouldn’t want to live here with Everett. The man is positively evil!”

  Sterling tried to restrain his irritation, but failed. “Chimera, we’re talking about something serious. Those men who came out here today meant business. Dangerous business. Gnomes are—”

  “Very real,” she said with a smile, and began cutting out biscuits. “Do you see any of that sugar you made me drop yesterday?”

  He looked at the floor and saw it was clean.

  “The gnomes swept it,” she informed him.

  His brow creased. “You really expect me to believe—”

  “Yes, I do,” she said firmly. “You—”

  “Fine,” he snapped. “Gnomes are real. So real that I’m sure you’ve nothing at all to worry about. After all, gnomes swept the floor, didn’t they? Surely they can handle guns as well as they can brooms! I’ve no doubt they’ll arm themselves and protect you from this Sprague person who—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Sterling,” she said, putting the biscuits in the oven.

  “Aha!” he yelled, and pointed at her. “Then you admit gnomes are just fantasies! That they—”

  “Archibald,” Chimera called to the boy, who was reading in the corner, “go through your clothes and see if you have anything that will fit Sterling. I’ve no intention of sitting down to eat with a half-naked man, and until I can make him a new pair of breeches, he’ll just have to squeeze himself into something of yours. Now, what was I saying to you, Sterling?”

  “What? Uh...”he said, trying in vain to remember the subject she’d changed so quickly. Dammit, he’d forgotten! Her aggravating habit of veering away from the topic of conversation was making him absent-minded.

  “Oh, yes, now I remember,” she said. “Don’t be ridiculous. The gnomes have no reason to put themselves into danger for my sake when that’s what you’re here to do.”

  “Me?”

  “You’re the hero, remember? My knight! As such, you will come up with a brilliant plan to defeat Everett. And while you’re busy devising it, you may as well make good use of the time by rebuilding my cabin, helping me plant another garden, securing some more livestock, constructing fences, fixing the barn—I told you last night I needed a man.” She noticed his shocked expression. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you. You—”

  “Now, wait just a damn-blasted minute, Chimera!” he yelled, and yanked up the towel, which had begun to slip from his waist. “I’m not staying!”

  “Sterling.” She sighed. “You really must learn not to fight my magic. I conjured you up, here you are, and here you will stay. You’ll do everything you’re supposed to do. But first you’re going to eat lunch. I hope you don’t mind not having any meat. We ate the last of the rabbit last night, and there’s nothing in the way of meat here but a large rat Snug killed this morning. You don’t eat rat, do you?”

  Of such monumental height was his frustration at not being able to get a word in edgewise, he couldn’t even speak.

  “Well, you are part Mexican,” she said, and placed a plate of fried potatoes on the table. “And I’ve heard that Mexicans eat all sorts of strange things. Have you ever eaten iguana? You know, that giant lizard creature—”

  “I know what an iguana is, Chimera. Now, getting back to the subject of staying—”

  “Do you eat it?” she asked again, and turned to take the biscuits out of the oven.

  “Chimera—”

  “Well, do you?”

  “Do I what?” he asked, totally confused and utterly fit to be tied.

  “Eat iguana!”

  He stared at her, disbelieving. “Why are we talking about iguana?”

  “Because—”

  “Oh, hell! No! I don’t eat iguana! I don’t believe in gnomes, I don’t play the role of knight in shining armor, but most of all I don’t believe you’re for real!”

  “Here,” Archibald intervened, and handed Sterling a pair of trousers.

  Sterling jammed his legs into the yellow pants and yanked the waistband up beneath the towel he wore. “They won’t close.”

  “It’s all that iguana you’ve been eating,” Chimera said. “It must be fattening.”

  “I told you I don’t eat—”

  “Take this,” she said, and threw him a shawl that had been lying on the back of a chair. “Wrap it around your waist. It’ll cover the part of you the pants won’t, and,” she giggled, “it’s much prettier than that dirty towel you’re wearing.”

  “Very amusing, Chimera,” he muttered. He tied the fuchsia-colored shawl around himself, and frowned at the long grass-green fringe hanging from it. “Real amusing. Now—uh...” What had he been going to say? Dammit, he’d forgotten again!

  “Is lunch ready, Chimera?” Snag asked as he and his brothers stormed into the cabin.

  Sterling grabbed him by his bright turquoise shirt and lifted him off the floor. “What did you do with my pants, you little—”

  “Put him down, Sterling.” Chimera ordered.

  Sterling dropped the boy, feeling a small measure of satisfaction when the youngster hit the floor with a thud. “Don’t cross me again, Snig,” he warned.

  “I’m Snag,” the boy snarled back.

  “Snig, Snag, Snug, what the hell difference does it make?” Sterling demanded. “You look the same, act the same—”

  “Oh, but they aren’t the same,” Chimera joined in, and put a bowl of steaming carrots on the table. “Snig has more freckles than either Snag or Snug. Snag’s left ear is lower than his right. And Snug always has a snake in his pocket. Right, Snug?” she asked, and pointed at the door.

  Snug rose, pulled the skinny black snake out of his pocket, and went to release it outside. As he walked back into the room, he stuck his tongue out at Sterling.

  Sterling reached out and grabbed it, eliciting a piercing shriek from the small boy. “Stick this dirty thing out at me one more time, Snag, and I’ll rip it out of your—”

  “I’m ’Nug!” the boy slurred angrily.

  “Nug?” Sterling repeated.

  “If you’d let go of his tongue, you’d understand he’s trying to tell you he’s Snug,” Chimera said. “There’s really no need
for such violence anyway, Sterling.”

  “These kids need discipline,” he grumbled, and released Snug’s tongue. “It’s obvious to me they’ve never had any.”

  Chimera calmly sat down at her place at the table. “Then we’ll add disciplining the children to your list of heroic duties. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that myself. Of course you must temper the discipline with affection, Sterling. I won’t let you hurt—”

  “Snig got more potatoes than me!”

  “I did not!”

  “Did so!”

  “Did not!”

  “Enough!” Sterling bellowed, and slammed his fist down to the table. “Any more arguing, and I’ll take all three of you out to the woodshed!”

  “We ain’t got no woodshed,” Snig countered.

  “You don’t have a woodshed,” Sterling corrected.

  “That’s what I said,” Snig argued. “We ain’t got no woodshed. If you already knew that, then why’d you say—”

  “Quiet!” Sterling exploded.

  The triplets hushed at once and began to eat, the only noise they made the quiet smacking of their lips. When the meal was finished and Archibald and the triplets had gone outside, Sterling rose from his chair and paced the room.

  “I’m going to Tucson, Chimera. I told you that last night.”

  Chimera saw a restless look in his eyes. “What’s so important in Tucson?”

  “It’s not what, it’s who.”

  “A woman?” She tried to understand the sharp stab of dismay she felt.

  Sterling stopped at the window. “Yes,” he said softly, his breath fogging the cracked pane. “A woman.”

  “A woman.” She stood to clear the table, straggled briefly with the strange gloom she felt, and smiled when it vanished. It was the present that counted, she reminded herself, and today Sterling was still here. Tomorrow would bring about its own difficulties, and she saw no reason to worry about them until they arrived. “Well, Sterling, that woman, whoever she may be, will just have to wait. You can’t go to Tucson. Not now.”

  He turned from the window and saw she was calmly rinsing the dishes. He noticed her oh-so-sure-of-herself grin too. “You listen to me, you hotheaded, presumptuous little spitfire!” He strode quickly toward her. “You aren’t going to dictate to me! You don’t own me, and I have no obligation whatsoever to you or those heathen children. I must have been as stark raving mad as you to have even spent the night here! But stay long enough to challenge, battle, and conquer your villain with one hand and rebuild your shack with the other? Ha! That’s a fantasy that I assure you will never come true!”

  She looked at him and arched her eyebrow. “You won’t leave me. You just won’t do it.”

  Her calm certainty infuriated him. And the serene, confident glow in her gaze made him even more determined to leave. “I won’t leave, huh?”

  The color of his eyes was the dark, scary gray of the sky just before a terrible storm hit, and she was reminded again of the tremendous strength locked within his powerfully built body. A shiver of fear coursed through her, robbing her of speech. She shook her head instead.

  “Yeah? Well, open wide those whiskey-brown eyes of yours, Chimera, and watch me!” With that, he stormed from the cabin and charged toward Gus. Jerking his saddle and bridle from a haystack, he threw the tack on the horse and tightened, buckled, and tied everything with lightning-fast speed. Mindless of the fact he only wore too-short trousers and a frilly shawl-skirt, he mounted and rode out of the yard at a full gallop, not even bothering to head in the direction of the stream where he’d left his boots. He’d buy some elsewhere.

  “Gnomes,” he mumbled as Gus raced down the forest path. “Werewolves,” he muttered as he passed the tree from which he’d hung yesterday. “Truth potion, snore potion, rabbit potion. Lizard tails, Aristotle, and a camel. Cow tinkle. Cow tinkle, Gus! Of all the preposterous...harebrained, lunatic, demented...crazy—”

  A sudden movement ahead cut off his tirade. Gus reared in fright. “Dammit, Gus—”

  Again, he stopped short. Staring straight at him, their gazes black, fierce, and unblinking, were three mounted Apache warriors, their war clubs clutched tightly within their bronzed hands. Sterling, motionless in the saddle, his heart pounding, stared back at them, silently daring them to make a move toward him. When not a one of them responded to the challenge in his silver eyes, he eased his hand carefully toward his gun.

  But before he even touched the pistol, the Indians turned their horses and disappeared into the thick forest. A ragged breath escaped Sterling, and it was a very long time before he was able to concentrate on anything but the harrowing experience. Slowly it dawned on him that the Indians had been very near Chimera’s cabin. And there was only one reason he could think of for their close proximity.

  The Apache baby.

  But how the hell did they know about Venus? Sterling was sure he’d been completely alone when he’d delivered and traveled with her yesterday. Yesterday? Hell, so much had happened to him, yesterday already seemed like years ago.

  He twisted in the saddle and looked down the path that led to the cabin. Another tremendous sigh escaped him when he realized what he had to do.

  He couldn’t leave Chimera. He’d brought Venus to her, and it was his responsibility to make sure the Indians didn’t commit murder to get the child back. Because even if the Apaches didn’t know about Venus now, it wouldn’t be long before they did. She already looked just like an Indian. And she’d grow up looking more and more like one. “Well, hell, Sterling!” he swore at himself. “She is an Indian!”

  What if the whole damn tribe returned? How was he going to hold them off single-handedly? Sure, he could return the baby to them, but after they had her, he’d probably lose his scalp in reward for his efforts.

  The only solution he could think of was to wait until Venus was older, stronger, and then take her to San Francisco de Sales, the orphanage in Sonora where he’d grown up. He hated the thought of returning when he’d only recently left, but what choice did he have? He sure as hell didn’t want to take the baby to Tucson, and leaving her with Chimera was too dangerous.

  But staying with Chimera until Venus was old enough to make the trip down to Sonora? Dios mio, he prayed. “Why did You let this happen to me?”

  “Damn, damn, damn!” he shouted at the treetops. “I’ll have Apaches breathing down my neck, Gus. Sprague’s thugs will probably come back. That man-eating camel is out for my blood. The triplets are going to make it their lives’ work to torture me. And Chimera...”

  Chimera, at this very moment, Sterling knew without a shadow of a doubt, was chanting some ridiculous spell designed to bring about his return. He’d ride into the yard, she’d smile smugly, and tell him her magic had brought him back. Then she’d start instructing him on how she wanted the cabin built. She’d talk incessantly, veering so far off her subject so many times that Sterling was certain he’d have lost what little wits he still possessed before sunset.

  Urging Gus toward Misfit Mansion, a name he decided suited the broken-down cabin, he realized Chimera’s prophecy had come true.

  Tucson would have to wait.

  And the woman who lived there...the woman who’d given him life and left him at the orphanage...the woman he wanted to love...the woman he hoped beyond hope would love him too.

  His mother, the woman who could give him his true and inherited identity, who could fill the emptiness inside him, would have to wait too.

  Chapter Four

  Everett Sprague swiped his fingers through the graying tufts of hair at his temples, then slammed his hairy fist onto the polished surface of his massive desk. His fleshy face purpled with rage, he spun on his heel and looked out the window, his gaze sweeping across his ranch.

  His hired man, Willard, shuffled uneasily, his boots smearing black mud on the ivory rug. “Mr. Sprague, sir,” he began, twisting his hat between his sweaty fingers, “I ain’t lyin’. I tell you, as soon as she finish
ed chantin’ that spell, my gun exploded outta my hand!”

  Everett turned and glared at him. “Are you saying you believe in magic, Willy?”

  Willard turned away from Everett’s pale, malicious eyes. “I—I don’t know what to think, sir. She—”

  “Has help, you idiot! Whoever owns the horse you saw tied up in front of her cabin was obviously hidden from sight! He shot your gun, Willard. And as for the magic...that woman cast a spell over you, all right. A spell for stupidity! You’re more of an imbecile now than you were when you left here this morning!”

  Willard looked at everything in the room but Everett. The Spragues had to be the richest people in the entire world, he thought, staring at the luxurious furnishings Everett’s wife, Hazel, had brought from the east. Their ranch, the Dragoon Diamond, so named because the boundaries formed a perfect diamond shape, was one of the largest around. They owned the best cattle, the best horses, the best everything. They already had what most folks only fantasized about having.

  But Everett desired more, Willard knew. He demanded Willard help him get it, and Willard wanted the money Everett had promised him for convincing the wild woman to sell. But somehow he had to convince Everett to give him more time. “Mr. Sprague, she might have a lawman there with her. Y’know I’m wanted in Texas. I can’t take those kinds of chances, sir, but what I can do is keep an eye on the place and find out who’s stayin’ with her.” He hated bargaining with the son of a bitch, but there was no escaping from beneath Sprague’s thumb.

  Everett sat down in his overstuffed leather chair and lit a fat cigar the size of his own fingers. “You’ll do more than keep an eye on the place, Willy. You and a few of the men will go back, kill the man who’s with her, and then begin carrying out my threats.”

  “But—”

  “I want her to lose everything. Not all at once, but little by little. It’ll scare her, you see. She’ll wonder where I’ll strike next. She’ll be terrified for the safety of those brats she’s raising. Today you and a group of my other men can ride back out and shake them up. Every week or so, make some other kind of catastrophe happen. After a little of that, when there’s nothing left for her to lose and she realizes she can’t beat me, she’ll sell. She may even be so scared she’ll leave without bothering to sell. She’s pushed me too far, and I want her to suffer for denying me what I want.”