Moonlight and Magic

by Rebecca Paisley

  “Chimera,” Sterling said, his eyes still trained on the buck-toothed miscreants, “are you very busy today?”

  “Busy? No, I’ve finished everything and had only planned on trying to understand how Xenia’s crystal ball works.” She turned to look at the smooth, round ball sitting on the mantel. “Xenia used to gaze into it and—”

  “Yes, yes, that’s just fine,” Sterling cut in. “But could you learn to read the future later? I’d rather you bake more pies.”

  “More? But—”

  “The boys are going to go out and find more berries. They’re going to bring bushels back, and you’re going to bake as many pies as you can. Will you do that, Chimera?”

  There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, she noticed. He was up to something and was trying to get her to go along with him. It thrilled her to see him involved with an everyday household problem. And the twinkle in his eyes assured her he was enjoying it. The triplets had had enough of being good, and their long-overdue fight had gotten things back to normal. She was so glad. “Of course I’ll bake more pies. I’ll get started on the dough right now.”

  “All right,” Sterling said to the triplets. “Go find berries. I want basketfuls, understand? Come back here with a few lousy handfuls, and it’s the woodshed.”

  “Yes, sir!” they answered enthusiastically.

  “We’ll bring back enough for a thousand pies!” Snig promised, and raced out of the cabin with his brothers.

  “Make a lot of dough,” Sterling told Chimera as he handed Venus to her. “Enough for a thousand pies.”

  “Sterling,” she called when he reached the door, and she saw him putting his boot back on. “I love the pink socks on you. And...I love you, too.”

  His hand fell from the knob. “I—you haven’t said that in a long time.”

  “I’m saying it now. I love you.”

  He looked at the floor and managed a slow nod before leaving to guard the triplets as they searched for berries.

  Chimera sank to the hay bale beside Archibald, who was holding Venus. She was completely exhausted. She’d made twelve pies, and it had taken her all afternoon and well into the evening to do it. Her body aching, she watched as Sterling brought the pies out of the cabin and placed them on other hay bales. The triplets, kerchiefs tied around their throats, sat on the ground, forks in hand, waiting for the warm desserts.

  “There are a dozen pies,” Sterling informed the boys. He couldn’t prevent a huge smile: he felt so good this afternoon. “They’re all yours. Four for each of you.”

  The triplets lunged for the pies. “But before you begin eating, there are some rules you must understand,” Sterling warned merrily. “Pies are best when eaten right away. If you let them sit, the berry juice makes the crust soggy. Don’t you boys agree?”

  They nodded vigorously, their red curls flopping.

  “We’ll eat ’em fast, Sterling,” Snag said, “but why do we have to eat outside? The flies will—”

  “Ignore the flies. But if you happen to eat one, don’t worry about it. After all, Toby eats them, and he seems very healthy. And as for why I’m making you eat outside...you’ll find out shortly.”

  Chimera barely suppressed a giggle. She winked at Archibald and settled back to watch the punishment that so far was unapparent to the triplets.

  “These pies are freshly baked,” Sterling continued. “You will eat all of them. Every bit of them. Chimera went to a lot of trouble to bake them, and to show her your gratitude, you mustn’t let a crumb go uneaten. Now, do any of you have a problem with those rules?”

  “We’ll eat ’em all!” Snig declared. “Can we start?”

  Sterling stepped away from the hay bales, swept his arm toward the pies, and bowed. “Let the feast begin.” Taking a seat beside Chimera, he put his arm around her and watched with her as the triplets ate.

  When three of the twelve pies were gone, Chimera whispered, “Sterling, they’ve each eaten an entire pie.”

  Casually, he crossed his legs. “Nine more to go.” He smiled as the boys reached for their second pies. Those, too, they finished.

  “They’re going for their third!” Chimera whispered.

  “But they’re not eating quite as quickly,” Sterling answered, and laughed out loud when Snig put his fork down. “All the pies,” he reminded the boys. “You promised.”

  Snig picked up his fork again and took another bite. Snag, too, took a bite, but it seemed to Sterling and Chimera he was having an awfully hard time chewing.

  “Snug’s face is green,” Chimera said.

  “I’m going inside,” Archibald announced. “Just watching them is making me sick.”

  “Imagine how they feel,” Chimera called after him as he hobbled into the cabin with Venus.

  “Sterling,” Snig mumbled, “I can’t eat any—”

  “You can, and you will,” Sterling broke in. “You’re all on your third pie. You have to eat that one and then your fourth. You wanted more pie, and now you’ve got more. Eat.”

  Snag gagged on a mouthful, but managed to swallow it. “Sterling, they’re going to be sick,” Chimera said, and grimaced when Snig, too; began to gag.

  “Yes, I do believe they are,” Sterling agreed. “What’s the matter, boys? Don’t you want any more pie?”

  Weakly, they shook their heads.

  “But I was just talking to Chimera, and she says there are enough berries for at least three or four more pies. Are you sure you don’t want her to go whip them up? Chimera, why don’t you go do that? The boys are almost done with their third pies, and after those, they’ll have only one each left. I’m sure they’ll want at least a fifth.”

  Snag was the first to be sick. Sterling and Chimera watched as he rose, staggered from the yard, and went to the side of the barn. Snug followed, retching all the way. Snig heroically succeeded in taking one more bite of his pie, but Sterling and Chimera noticed he never managed to swallow it. He joined his two brothers.

  “They’ve been over there for ten minutes,” Chimera said, and chanced a peek at them. “Do you think they’re all right?”

  “It would take that long to empty their stomachs of three pies,” Sterling said gaily. “About time for dinner, isn’t it, Chimera?” he asked loudly. “What did you say we’re having? Turkey pie?”

  Both he and Chimera laughed as more retching sounds came from the side of the barn. Sterling stood. “That sounds real good to me, Chimera. And maybe tomorrow you could make some potato pie since the potato plants are doing so well. The day after that, I could hunt for deer, and we’ll have venison pie. Why, I guess you could make pies out of just about anything, wouldn’t you say, Chimera?”

  She smiled and nodded her head at him. “Anything at all, Sterling. And as much as the boys like pie, I should make dinner and dessert pies every day.”

  “Boys, come back over here and tell Chimera what kind of pie you want tomorrow!” Sterling grinned broadly when they weaved into sight.

  “Sterling, no,” Snig begged, his eyes watering.

  Snag’s hand trembled over his belly. “No more pie.”

  “Ever,” Snug added weakly, and shuddered when he saw the three other pies he and his brothers hadn’t eaten.

  “But you love pie!” Sterling shouted. “You fought over one this afternoon! Are you saying you’ll never fight over pie again?”

  “Never,” they swore together.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that,” Sterling said. “But you won’t fight over any kind of food again. You will share it. If I so much as hear one word of argument over food, you’ll sit down and consume monstrous portions of that food, just as you did with these pies. You know now what it feels like to eat too much, and I’m sure you’ll never want to do this again. Now go wash.”

  When they’d left to do as he’d bidden, Sterling looked down at the pie in his hand. “Want some, Chimera?” he asked, and picked up a sliver for himself.

  She frowned. “I’ve baked thirteen pies toda
y and eaten two slices myself. I don’t even want to hear the word ‘pie’ for the rest of my life.”

  Sterling finished off his slice of pie and patted his belly. “But you have to admit it worked. I can promise you, they will never fight over food again. They’ve learned to share.”

  “They might forget this and—”

  “No, they won’t,” he said, chuckling. “I know I never forgot this lesson. When my friend Antonio and I were nine years old, we had a fight over some goat cheese a farmer donated to the orphanage. Father Tom sought out the farmer, talked more cheese out of him, and did the same thing to Antonio and me as I did with the triplets today. Antonio and I never fought over food again, and to this day, I’ve never been able to even think of a goat without feeling sick to my stomach.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that.” Chimera sighed. “I was thinking of getting a goat for the express purpose of making goat cheese pies.”

  Sterling grimaced. “That’s disgusting. Whoever heard of goat cheese pie?”

  Chimera laughed. “You said yourself that anything can be made into a pie. I think goat cheese would make a delicious—”

  “Enough, Chimera.”

  “Baked with salt, some meat, and vegetables, it would be a dinner. With sugar and fruit, it could be a dessert. Yes, goat cheese would probably prove to be very versatile.” She smiled at his look of revulsion and changed the subject. “You speak of Antonio often. Was he adopted, or did he leave San Francisco de Sales after he’d grown up?”

  Sterling stiffened at her question. “I have no idea where Antonio is,” he said softly. “I don’t even know if he’s dead or alive.” He walked to the barn and leaned upon it, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

  Chimera noted the sorrow that floated in his silver eyes. Was there no end to the man’s pain? she wondered, and felt her heart constrict. “Did he run away?” she asked quietly.

  Sterling remained silent for many moments. “He was my own age,” he finally said. “We did everything together and were never apart. One day we left the grounds. We—we got into an argument. I don’t remember what it was about. We fought. I hit him too hard. It was an accident.”

  Chimera gasped. “Do...you think you killed him?”

  Sterling kicked at a clump of grass. “I almost wish I had. Death at the hands of a friend would have been better than what really happened to him. I hit him above the eye. How he bled! I panicked and tried to staunch the bleeding, but it wouldn’t stop. I knew he’d die. And maybe he did.”

  “You mean you don’t know? Did you just leave him?”

  He rammed his fingers through his thick hair. “It all happened so fast. We never even heard them until they were upon us. I later learned they’d been raiding in Sonora. Apache. There must have been fifty or sixty warriors. I ran and tried to pull Antonio along with me. But the blood blinded him, and he kept stumbling and falling. I...I left him, Chimera. I ran away.”

  She walked to him and lifted his hand to her breast.

  Her fingers were so warm wrapped around his, he thought. Her breast, also warm, was so soft beneath his hand. Her lips, slightly parted, seemed ready and anxious to soothe him with gentle words. And her eyes...how they shone with understanding. She looked so beautiful to him. He’d wondered if he’d ever see that tender glow again, and felt a strange relief that he was seeing it now.

  “Sterling?” she prompted, and squeezed his hand.

  Her voice was as soft as the mountain haze that blanketed their surroundings each morning. How he loved the sound of her voice, he mused, and drew her closer to him. “They stole Antonio away,” he said quietly, comforted by her fragrant nearness. “Father Tom and the few men he could round up looked all over for him, but never found even a trail to follow. They escaped into the hills, and I remember Father Tom saying that when Apache are in the mountains no one but God can find them.”

  Chimera laid her cheek against his chest and heard the rapid beat of his heart. To have lost a dear friend, the way he’d lost Antonio...She slipped her arms around his waist, her hands traveling softly up and down his back.

  Though she said nothing to him, her embrace spoke volumes to Sterling. He felt the comfort she offered. And, though unspoken, he heard her silent words of understanding and sympathy. Her simple faith filtered into him and overcame his doubts.

  And for the first time since Antonio was abducted, he allowed himself to believe his friend was alive and well.

  Sterling urged Gus deeper into the woods. He made this trip twice daily, searching for anything that would alert him to possible danger from Everett Sprague’s thugs. The man hadn’t struck in months, and that fact made Sterling more apprehensive than he would have been had their attacks occurred daily. Sprague was merely biding his time, waiting for the perfect time to hit, and the anticipation was pure hell.

  While he rode, he thought of Chimera. Her image made him smile, made him feel full to the brim with warmth. She hugged him every time he was near enough for her to reach. She fussed over him constantly. She’d even made him go wash his hands and face the other night before she’d consent to give him his supper. She made sure he had a pair of clean socks every morning. Purple ones, turquoise, yellow...sometimes they were even multicolored! She’d learned to make tortillas, although not very well, and he ate them as though they were the most succulent things he’d ever put in his mouth.

  He didn’t know what had happened that had turned her from a quiet little mouse into a clucking mother hen, but he liked it and wanted more. Much more. He wanted to make love to her, wanted it so badly he couldn’t sleep at night.

  But he couldn’t quite seem to get started. Every time he thought about seducing her, he also thought about the two times when Chimera—after lovemaking—had professed that her love had grown deeper. As much as he wished he could, he couldn’t shake the dismay those memories caused him.

  He rode a while longer, saw nothing suspicious, and turned Gus around. But just as he did, he heard a low sound. He listened for the noise again and directed Gus toward it.

  Fury exploded inside him when he reached the source of the sound. He’d known the months-old absence of Sprague’s ruffians had been too good to last, that it would eventually explode into violence...but Dios mio, why did it have to have happened like this?

  Athena, Chimera’s only cow, lay lowing nearby. She’d been knifed, Sterling thought miserably, but not killed. God only knew how many hours the poor beast had lain there in such pain. Apollo, the raggedy rooster, had been far luckier than his fellow barnyard companion: he’d been neatly beheaded and lay beside Athena.

  Sterling dismounted, torn between rage and anguish. Those animals had become as much a part of his life as Gus. He bent beside Athena. “Athena, I’m sorry, old girl. They’ll pay. I promise you, they’ll pay for this.”

  He stood, removed his pistol from his belt, and quickly ended her misery. The echo of the gunshot seemed to reverberate through his mind. It left him tortured both with the regret of the animals’ deaths, and the fact he had to tell Chimera and the children.

  Knowing the shot would soon bring them, he mounted Gus and set off to meet them before they arrived and saw what had happened to their pets. His mouth was dry, his fingers white as he squeezed the reins. He felt terrible for Athena and Apollo, but he felt worse for the five people who loved them as much as other people loved their family cats and dogs.

  Dammit, how was he to tell them? They wouldn’t blame him, he knew, but he blamed himself. They’d counted on him to protect them and all they loved, and he’d allowed their pets to be slaughtered. The knowledge tore at him from the very depths of his belly.

  “Snig, wait,” he said when the boy came tearing into the clearing. “All of you, go back to the cabin.”

  “What happened?” Chimera asked, her voice trembling.

  He pulled her up into his saddle and kneed Gus toward the cabin, the children following. He held Chimera gently as if she were a small and delicate child. She sai
d nothing, and he knew she was afraid to ask. When he felt her quiver, his throat constricted.

  He heard the soft trampling of feet behind him and a dragging sound he knew was made by Archibald. The children: three with red hair, buckteeth, and thousands of freckles; one with yellow hair and a mangled leg.

  He closed his eyes and let Gus have his head. But even with his eyes closed, he could see Chimera, the children, so clearly in his mind. They said nothing, but he could hear their voices. He could smell them. Cinnamon fire. Dirt. Books. Wood. They were so many scents, these people who depended upon him, these people who needed and trusted him.

  God, how he dreaded it, but he knew that he had to tell them what had happened, that he had to hear their cries, see their tears and feel their pain...He already felt it. Deep. So deep. He felt their sorrow, their rage.

  It was his own.

  When, how had this happened? He bent his face into Chimera’s fragrant hair. When had their emotions, thoughts, dreams become his own? And now that they had, would he cry and wail as he knew they would do in only moments? Would he sit idly by and let time soothe the pain as he knew they would be forced to do?

  No, he would not, he resolved with a fury that continued to rise, smolder, and burn inside him. He would not sit waiting for Sprague, snake that he was, to bite again. The time for waiting was over.

  He was only one man, and Sprague had over a hundred, but Sprague had hurt Chimera and her children. He’d destroyed the things they loved. And that fact—that one, solitary fact—was enough ammunition for Sterling, enough of a spark to set him afire with the need for vengeance.

  Sprague had sinned mortally. He would do penance. Soon. Very soon.

  Tonight.

  His shirt drenched with her tears, Sterling carried Chimera to her bed and drew the sheet over her. She whimpered in her sleep but did not awaken. Gazing down at her swollen eyes, he thought of how long she’d wept in his arms for Athena and Apollo. Her pain had exacerbated his own, and he was now so infected with it, he knew he could not wait a second longer for the cure.