The Elder Blood Chronicles Bk 1 In Shades of Grey (4 page)

Her mother was setting the table as she
entered the house. The delectable scent of fresh bacon and gravy
made her mouth water. Watching her mother closely, Jala crept
toward the table with her violet eyes fixed on the stack of
biscuits.

“Wash your hands,” her mother directed
without even a glance up. Jala hurried to the basin and hastily
scrubbed her hands clean. She hadn’t really thought them dirty. All
she had done was to lead a cow and pet a horse, but mother was
particular about such things and it didn’t pay to argue. She dried
them quickly and found her seat at the table. “Wait for your
father,” her mother added needlessly. She sighed and fidgeted and
watched the door for her father. By the time the door finally
creaked open, she was sure she was about to fall over from
starvation. He crossed the room and set the cream bowl and the milk
pail down, before giving her mother a kiss. He cast a smile at Jala
and ruffled Jacob’s hair as he took his own seat. Jala felt a nudge
by her leg, and glanced down to see Cap looking up to her
hopefully. She grinned and ruffled his head, the same as her father
had Jacob’s, then found herself glancing quickly at her mother. If
she had noticed Jala touching Cap, she would make her wash her
hands again.

“Looks good, Maggie,” he said as he surveyed
the piled biscuits and gravy. Her mother smiled and sat down as
well. Jala watched them a moment. It often amazed her how mother
could seem so serious, but a few words from father could make her
expression soften so much.

“Just simple fare,” she replied, and began
piling food onto the plates. She had braided her hair up into a
tidy bun, and her dress looked freshly pressed. Jala ran a hand
through her own wild curls and frowned. She should have braided it
before she came down. That would have pleased mother. Her mother
always looked tidy, no matter what time of day. She was always neat
and pretty.

“The Walker boys are coming over to finish
plowing the north field this morning. I expect they will be here
within the hour,” her father began, pausing only long enough to
pour himself another cup of the hot, bitter tea he liked so much.
Jala wrinkled her nose at the smell of it and took a sip from her
own cider. “I asked them to bring Becka along to give you some help
in the garden.” He finished and began to eat his breakfast.

Mother looked to Jala then back to her
father. “Becka would be fine help, but I have Jala to help me.
Surely Becka’s own mother could use her help.”

“The Walkers have more children than I do
cows. Half the time I wonder how they feed them all. I’m sure Lacey
will have plenty of help in her garden and Becka will earn a few
coins by helping in ours. Besides, she is twelve. She will be more
help than Jala.” Jala kept her eyes on both parents as she ate. Her
mother had an eyebrow arched, and her father had that slight grin
that showed he knew he was going to get his way.

“Jala will need to learn how to garden, or
her family will starve. Remember the first year we settled out
here. Half my plants died and we had to buy most of our food. By
spring, we could barely afford more seed. I wouldn’t wish that on
my daughter.”

“Jala is only seven with plenty of time to
learn,” her father countered smoothly.

She felt the nudge at her leg again and
slipped Cap a thick piece of bacon; sure neither parent would
notice. Taking another bite of food, she sat back and watched as
her father smoothly guided the conversation.

“I won’t have time to watch her, better that
she helps me, so I know she isn’t getting into mischief,” her
mother said mildly. She had recognized the direction of this talk
by now, and her objections seemed halfhearted.

Her father looked shocked at the words, his
expression almost comical. Jala repressed a giggle and fed another
piece of bacon to Cap. “Jala? Mischief? Why I don’t believe the two
have ever met.” He raised an eyebrow at Jala and gave her a
grin.

Her mother repressed her own grin and shook
her head. “Of course not. Not your sweet, innocent Jala.”

“Indeed not. My Jala couldn’t do any wrong.”
He leaned over and gave her mother a light kiss on the cheek. “I
will be taking her with me to check the cows. Surely Mischief won’t
find her if she is with me.”

Her mother did laugh then. “No doubt, it
knows you far better. Why stop at a child when it can visit an old
friend.” She gave another sigh, her smile still showing. “You do
realize you have a daughter, right?” She asked with another shake
of her head. “You treat her more as a boy. Look at her patched
trousers, oversized shirt, and wild hair.”

“Aye, Maggie, I know she is a girl, and I
know I’m working on limited time here. Soon enough she will be all
braids and ribbons and afraid of dirt. Her concerns will be of
young boys and new dresses. Keeping her poor old father company
while he checks the family cows will be her last thought. Let me
have the few years of her childhood I have left, please.” He looked
at her with exaggerated pleading and sipped from his tea in time to
hide the wide smile. His eyes danced merrily over the brim at her
mother who was laughing softly again.

“Over played that a bit, didn’t you?” She
asked through her laugh. “You poor old withered thing, I suppose
you can take your daughter out before she turns on you completely.
I think she is going to wear the hide off that poor pony though.
She’s been riding him more than walking since you gave him to
her.”

“He’s a horse, not a pony,” Jala objected
quietly. Her father grinned wider, and her mother simply rolled her
eyes.

“I’ll saddle Blackjack for her and she can
ride about the yard a bit while I get them started on the plowing,
then we will be off and should be back by late afternoon,” he
stated.

Her mother frowned slightly. “I don’t like
her riding by herself yet, Toby. She is still so little. Wait on
the saddling until you are back and she can help me pack a lunch
for the two of you. If you are going to be out till late afternoon,
you will need it.”

“She’ll be fine. That pony wouldn’t spook if
you tied a snake to his bridle. Jala has good balance, too. We
shouldn’t need much of a lunch. Some dried meat and cheese should
do fine. I can fix that myself before we leave out. No need to
trouble yourself.”

“Horse, not a pony,” Jala objected once
again. A pony was short and stubby, and while Blackjack was
smaller, he certainly wasn’t stubby.

Both of her parents once again ignored the
objection, and she sighed. She slipped another piece of bacon to
Cap and watched her mother wipe Jacob’s face free of the newest
batch of slobber.

“Jala, that’s the third piece of bacon I’ve
seen you feed that dog. One more and he will be banned from the
house.” Her mother didn’t even look up from the baby as she spoke
and Jala froze.

Her father gave a chuckle and pushed his
chair out. “Com’on, Curly, let’s get that pony saddled.” Jala
hopped out of her chair quickly and raced out the door before her
mother could voice another objection. Cap ran lazily along beside
her, nearly tripping her twice. She could hear her parents still
talking behind her, but didn’t pay attention to the words. Just as
he said he would, her father had handled Mother’s objections
nicely. He always did as he said he would. She wasn’t too sure
about his arguments, though. She couldn’t imagine ever being the
girl he described. How could dresses ever be better than trousers?
You couldn’t climb in dresses.

“Now I told your mother you wouldn’t go past
the brook until you were with me,” her father said as he sat her
carefully into the saddle. Buck stood saddled and waiting
restlessly nearby, and she could see the boys on the road riding
toward the house. She wouldn’t have long to wait before he was
ready to go and she tried hard to hide her excitement. This would
be the first time she had gone out with him on her own horse.

“I won’t,” she agreed, readily taking the
reins up in her hands. On a normal day, she would object to not
being able to leave the yard, but she wasn’t about to do anything
wrong this morning. Her being able to ride all day, well away from
the house, more than made up for not being able to leave the yard
for the short while she had to wait.

“Shouldn’t take me more than an hour to get
them started and then we will be off. Keep yourself out of trouble
till then and don’t go past the brook,” he repeated with a
smile.

She smiled back at him and nodded, watching
him swing onto Buck and ride off to meet the boys. She gave a sharp
whistle to Cap and turned her horse toward the yard. She had no
interest in seeing the Walker boys or Becka. The boys tended to
tease her, and Becka never had anything important to say.

Mother was just setting Jacob down near the
garden patch as she rounded the house. Smiling she waved happily to
her.

“Not past the brook, young lady,” her mother
called out. Jala nodded back in response. She eased Blackjack into
a trot and took a few turns around the yard, occasionally glancing
up to watch either her mother talking with Becka or her father
hitching the huge team of draft horses. She was getting bored
quickly, and father hadn’t even taken the team up to the field yet.
She looked around the yard trying to devise some game to keep
herself busy and out of trouble and her gaze stopped on the large
tree near the brook. It wasn’t past the brook; it was right at the
edge. Her eyes climbed the branches and landed solidly on the
thick, dark fruits hanging heavily on the branches.

With a gentle nudge, she urged Blackjack
beneath the tree. She could smell the scent of the fruit now, rich
and sweet, and too good to ignore. She judged the distance to the
lowest branch carefully. If she stood in the saddle, she could
reach it and then pull herself up. It was still early spring, but
there was a chance a few of the Jimpa would be ripe enough to pick.
The peaches and plums were still a good month away from harvest,
but Jimpa ripened fast and was nearly as sweet as candy.

The thought of finding enough to take with
them, spurred her on, and she stood carefully in the saddle and
stretched until she felt her fingers brush the branch. With a
dexterity that would make a monkey jealous, she pulled herself into
the tree and began climbing her way to the upper branches where the
thickest of the fruit hung. She glanced back down the tree to see
Blackjack daintily nibbling on the grass below the tree, exactly
where she had left him. She smiled and began checking the fruit for
ripened ones. It would be a simple matter to drop back down into
her saddle once she was done and then she could surprise Father
with the treat. She looked up toward the north field to see Father
riding Buck up the hill, while the boys led the draft horses and
plow behind him at a much slower pace. That gave her about twenty
minutes to find the fruit and be back down in the saddle before
anyone even noticed she was in the tree. There was plenty of time
as far as she figured.

She had found three ripened enough to pick
when she heard Cap give a sharp bark below the tree. It was
followed by another, more urgent bark. She looked down to see her
dog staring toward the south. Blackjack gave a snort and his small
ears pinned back. She nearly dropped the fruit in shock as the
horse gave another snort and bolted running hard toward the north.
In utter bewilderment, she watched him run and looked back down at
Cap who was whining pitifully. She followed his stare toward the
south and watched in complete confusion as a black cloud covered
the entire southern horizon. It billowed and ebbed almost seeming
to pulse with life. She heard a cry of alarm from behind her and
turned her gaze back to see her mother staring after the quickly
disappearing form of Blackjack.

“Jala!” Her mother cried out frantically. Her
hands were clenched in her apron tightly while her eyes searched
the yard.

“I’m here, Mother,” she called back. Her
mother’s confusion quickly turned to fear. Cap gave another sharp
bark and her mother’s searching eyes found her. Instead of the
anger she had expected, she saw relief and fear written on her
mother’s features. If anything, that scared her more. She looked
frantically toward the north field, and saw her father racing back
toward the house. Buck was stretched out in a full run, the fastest
she had ever seen the horse move. The sky above her began to
darken, and she heard herself cry out in fear.

The entire world began to slow. Jala saw her
mother running toward her with outstretched arms, beckoning Jala
down from the tree. Behind her, she could see Becka rushing back
into the house with the wailing baby clutched tightly in her arms.
Her dog was barking frantically below. She heard the thundering
hoof beats of her father’s racing horse. It all faded a bit. The
air about her seemed alive and grasping, and the sky continued to
darken. She felt a sharp pain on her chest, and looked down to see
the amulet glowing brightly as the entire world crashed back into
full speed.

The sky gave a deafening roar louder than any
thunder she had ever heard and then a bright flash blinded her to
the surrounding world. She felt a moment of vertigo and realized
she was falling, with a cry of alarm as she twisted to land on her
back. The ground seized her roughly, and she felt the wind knocked
out of her. She was still blinded from the flash her eyes refusing
to focus. The area around her was as silent as death.

She blinked, willing her eyes to work and
felt tears welling up. She wasn’t hurt from the fall; perhaps a few
bruises but nothing more. It wasn’t pain that brought the tears; it
was fear. Her mother should have reached her by now. She should
hear her father’s horse. There shouldn’t be this silence. The world
should be chaos right now, not still and utterly silent. A sob
burst from her throat and the noise filled the void as loudly as
the thunderclap had a moment before. There was no answer to her
cry. Her mother didn’t gather her up as she was supposed to. Her
father wasn’t there as he should have been.