Wystan (3 page)

Chapter Four

Wystan squinted through the dark, although his senses told him the barghest had been alone and it was no longer a threat. He wiped the bloodied pig sticker on the creature's matted black fur and shoved it inside the sheath on his belt. He shifted his attention to Rhia. Even without moonlight or a lantern, he saw her clearly. She trembled all over. He knew she was almost blind without light. If he'd ever seen a more pathetic creature, he couldn't recall it. Other men might have pitied her. He battled against annoyance and disbelief.

“Did you hear me?”

Her teeth chattered as she nodded. “C-c-can we go inside?”

He took a deep breath, wrapped his hand around her arm and steered her toward the door. She stumbled a little as they crossed the uneven ground. Wystan held on, pushing through the doorway with her in tow.

“Eban!”

A light flared in Eban's study, and he appeared in the hall. His eyes were wide, expression wary. A thin saber in his right hand caught the light. “Wys?”

“One of your charges got away, little brother. I warned you this would happen. If I hadn't been on patrol, one of these lives you're so keen to protect would be gone.” Wystan let go of Rhia.

She gaped at Eban's saber. He tucked it behind his back, even though the damage was done.

“Get rid of them. First thing in the morning.” Wystan pushed his hands through his hair. “This has gone far enough.”

“What was it?” Eban asked.

Wystan cut his eyes to Rhia and shook his head. Just what they needed—to talk business in front of a stranger. “The real question is, how did she get past you?”

Eban's jaw tightened. “An oversight. It won't happen again.”

“Damn right it won't. What if someone somewhere missed her and came looking?”

She stood a little straighter. “No one would. Besides Sylvie and Beryl. We're alone.”

“Rhia.” Eban gave a minute shake of his head. A warning, but it wouldn't do any good, mad as Wystan was.

He turned to her. “Were you even thinking? How old is your sister? Who's going to look out for her if a—if you get killed?”

She drew back, inching closer to Eban. “I didn't know going to the outhouse was cause for a disaster. It's”—she looked embarrassed—“natural. When you have to visit the facilities, you go.”

“Not in Berner!”

He glowered at Eban. “This is what I warned you about. She thinks she can stroll around like it's any town, doing whatever she pleases.”

“Leave him out of this. Maybe you can explain why Berner is so dangerous. What kinds of
ruffians
”—she looked pointedly at Eban—“are out there, and why, Sheriff, aren't you doing something about it?”

All of a sudden, she had a backbone. He didn't like being challenged. Particularly by a human woman. “That is none of your concern.”

He didn't need a reminder from her that every day the boundaries of Berner stretched a little thinner, that the threat grew stronger.

“Are you the reason the town is empty? No one could stand your tyrannical rules, or understands why you let innocent citizens get eaten by things you won't name?” Tight curls framed her face. Hazel eyes blazed with disdain. Rhia Duke, the formidable schoolteacher, stood in front of him as if he was a naughty student.

“Rhia, I think you should go check on your sister.” Eban's voice wasn't loud and did nothing to make either of them back down.

“No, let her have her say.”

“Wys—”

“He's right. I'm not done. I want some answers.” Rhia pushed her hair behind her ears. “I'm not leaving until I understand what's going on here.”

“Eban, leave.” Wystan cracked his knuckles and fought a grin when Rhia's eyes widened.

His brother stepped forward. “I really don't think this is appropriate. We're civilized people, not savages in the wilderness.”

Wystan smirked. “Are we?”

Rhia took a deep breath, puffing out her chest. “Now, Eban, I think the sheriff and I got off on the wrong foot. If I apologize for my appalling behavior earlier today, I'm sure we can clear up this matter.”

Rhia's smile looked forced, her tone patronizing. Wystan wondered if women who wanted to be teachers went to a special school that taught ways to put students in their proper place. But he wasn't a child and hadn't been for a long time. No pint-sized schoolmarm was going to get the best of him. He tapped his foot.

“I'm waiting.”

“Sheriff Heckmaster, I would like to extend my sincerest regrets that I invaded your charming town, ruined your afternoon with my unreasonable request about a position in the nonexistent school, and troubled your brother with my friend's illness. If you would graciously overlook my shortcomings, perhaps we can settle our differences and resolve our conflict.” She batted her eyelashes and smiled as she closed the speech. “Is there any sort of apology you'd like to give me, Sheriff?”

“Hell no!” He should have let the barghest eat her. Beneath those freckles and behind the frosty green and autumn gold of her eyes, a shrewd harpy lay in wait for the moment it could tear a man to pieces. From the corner of his eye, he saw Eban bow his head. For a moment, he thought it was because Eban knew how angry he was, but as his younger brother's shoulders shook, he realized it was laughter. Rhia glance at Eban and her smile widened.

“Language, Sheriff. Vulgarities make you sound like a beast.”

“Enough. The pair of you are in trouble. You for laughing, which means you can spend the rest of the night outside chasing barg—animals off. And you—” He couldn't bring himself to say her name. “You'd better be ready to leave at dawn, little sister and friend in tow. Do you understand?”

Her chin went up. “If you want me to leave, you'll have to physically remove me.”

Wystan hadn't guessed it would be possible for his temper to rise any more. She knew just what to say to make him irrational. “It'll be my pleasure.”

He turned and left the study, unable to tolerate her insolence any longer. Eban didn't follow him. It wouldn't have done any good. He'd made up his mind about her leaving and whether either of them liked it or not, his word was final. This time.

The boldness that had surged through Rhia faded when Wystan left. She leaned against the wall and forced herself to meet Eban's gaze.

“I don't know what came over me. I…” She didn't have an answer for why she'd reacted so strongly. Too much excitement following her trip to the outhouse perhaps.

“I'm sorry you had to see him like that. Sometimes Wystan can be…forceful. There are some bad types around town and he's doing everything he can to weed them out, but it isn't easy.” Eban frowned. “I did ask you not to leave the building.”

She felt guilty because Wystan had yelled at his brother. “I know. In a way, I deserve his anger, but I'm not sure I understand why he acted like that. What was out there? Why are you carrying a sword? And why is the town so empty? This is all very odd.”

“It's not my place to explain any of it. The best advice I can offer is to leave Berner tomorrow. I'm sure you'll find work in another town. There must be work for a capable woman somewhere.”

Eban tried to conceal the saber further, but it didn't do any good. The blade was curved and protruded from behind his leg. It looked deadly and she knew he'd have used it if he needed to. Most men carried guns, but this one chose a sword. Another mystery she wasn't likely to discover an answer for.

“My wagon won't make Albuquerque. It wouldn't make it ten miles if the trail out there is anything like what we've already crossed. We're doomed if we can't stay here. Sylvie and I might be able to walk, but Beryl couldn't do it. I've ruined everything by making Wystan mad.”

She wanted to bury her face in her hands and cry, but that wouldn't solve any problems. The slow realization that Wystan had saved her from
something
was catching up and she'd risked her life by not being more careful. The sheriff was right. Sylvie had no one if she died. Their situation seemed hopeless.

“I'm sorry for your trouble, Rhia. Perhaps things will look better in tomorrow's light.” Eban looked doubtful.

She had the feeling that when she woke in the morning, Wystan would have her wagon packed and would carry her from the clinic if she tried to resist. She had to be cleverer and rise earlier than him if she meant to stay. Fortunately, ideas were already forming.

“Eban, was there ever a school here?”

He stared at her, seeming reluctant to answer, but he nodded. “When I was a boy. Clear up until about fifteen years ago.”

“So there is a schoolhouse?” Rhia expected it was in terrible disrepair, but she'd faced worse—was facing it right now.

“Down the street from the jail about three blocks.” He frowned. “Don't get any ideas. Just because you open the schoolhouse doesn't mean Wystan is going to change his mind. He never does.”

“There are children in this town and they have as much right to an education as anyone.” She bit her tongue, hoping Sylvie wasn't the only child in town.

Eban sighed. “No one here is arguing that. Despite Wystan and Tell's aversion to books and sums, there is a need for someone to teach our remaining youngsters. You won't have a full class—there aren't many children here—but I'll advocate your attempt, though you may have noticed he doesn't pay much mind to anything I say.”

Rhia's hope returned. A warm feeling spread throughout her. “Thank you. In the morning, I'll locate the schoolhouse and see how much work it needs. If you see any parents, please let them know what I'm doing.”

“But don't tell Wystan?” A sparkle of humor lightened his eyes.

“That's preferable. I think I'll return to bed now.” She smiled at him, sure everything would work out. “Oh, who's Tell?”

“My younger brother.”

Her eyebrows rose. “There's another Heckmaster?”

Eban smiled. “You'll never see two people more alike, and yet so different, than Tell and Wystan.”

She wondered what that meant, but he was already turning away. The sword reflected lamplight and for a moment, she thought she saw a flash of light in his eye, but it must have been her imagination.

The sun hadn't come up yet when Rhia roused Sylvie. More like a coldblooded lizard than a human girl, her sister fumbled in the dark room, eyes closed, still half asleep as she searched for clothes. Her spectacles sat crooked on her nose until Rhia straightened them.

“Careful not to wake Beryl. We have a special task this morning,” Rhia whispered. She hadn't slept much as she had been planning the reopening of the school. In Virginia, it was rare that she faced bright-eyed eager students. Like Sylvie, most of them wandered in with sleepy expressions and complaints of too many chores to bother with their studies. She expected Berner to be different because these children hadn't been to classes before. They might find the material difficult at first, but she would go slowly and shape their minds with care. Sooner or later, Wystan would see what a helpful addition she made to town.

She tried not to think about him. The way he'd railed at her for being outside, for coming here at all, how frightening he'd appeared when he turned away from the animal he'd killed to save her. In one of the illustrated storybooks from her childhood, she'd often gazed at the images of knights from King Arthur's court. They dressed in armor, but the swords they carried reminded her of the big knife he'd used. They wore grim looks of determination and fierceness, not unlike Wystan. But he wouldn't know chivalry if it jumped up and down in front of him.

Rhia led Sylvie out of Beryl's room and down the hall to the front door. If her sister had noticed her late-night wanderings, she didn't mention it.

Sylvie hid a yawn behind her hand, but her words jumbled around it. “Where are we going so early?”

“To inspect the schoolhouse. It may be a bit run-down, so I'll need your help cleaning it.” She tried to sound cheerful about the task.

“Can't I sit with Beryl instead?”

Sylvie, like most girls her age, would rather be doing anything except chores.

“I'm afraid not. After we get everything set to rights, you'll attend classes too. I'm not going to let my little sister end up a simpering housewife with no education. You want to be more than that, don't you?” Rhia smiled, confident that Sylvie agreed.

“I think I want to own a business.”

“An excellent idea! What kind? A bakery, a sundries store, a bookshop?”

Sylvie's nose wrinkled. “No, I'd like to sell ladies' items.”

“You want to be a seamstress?” Surprised, Rhia glanced at her sister. “I don't mean to be discouraging, but you can't put more than two straight stitches into anything.” Her own stockings were testament to that.

“Not dresses. Undergarments. Pretty, lacy, flouncy undergarments. Stockings too, but only the finest silks. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could walk into a store and buy something besides plain cotton and rough wool?” Sylvie sighed, her light-brown eyes dreamy. “Sometimes I miss Papa. Remember how he'd bring us ribbons from the store? I miss ribbons.”

A pang of grief struck Rhia's heart. She dreamed about ribbons and pretty dresses too. The ten-year gap in their ages allowed her to remember things Sylvie hadn't been exposed to. Fancy dinners, music performances and dances with charming young men. Looking out at the bleak streets of Berner, Rhia realized how far the Duke family had fallen. At the end of their father's life, they'd had little money, and a few paste jewels and frayed ribbons were the special things Sylvie recalled.

“Someday we'll walk into the general store here and buy new dresses. Brand-new ready-made ones, like in the catalogs.” She hoped her sister missed the way her voice cracked. They had to make it through today and a whole lot of tomorrows before either of them got a new dress. Food was more important than clothing and they were down to about three pounds of beans in the back of the wagon.