Page 11 of Suncatcher

She’d slept only a little. Her arm throbbed dully beneath the stitches, bandage, and her second-favorite shirt. She’d see if Molly could work her own form of magic and repair the blue pinstripe one. Pearl’s sewing skills were effective but not particular. Molly was exceptional with her hands. At many things.

The terrain changed from scrub grass and thorny yucca to patches of sand and gravel as they entered the gorge, the old riverbed misplaced by time. The water ran high and Pearl’s heart sank.

Sheriff Oak slowed her horse to a walk and withdrew her rifle. Eyes never straying from their circuit of the surroundings, she licked a trail of white powder from her finger and tossed Pearl a circular blush compact, like the fancy ladies of the cities used to make themselves pretty. Pearl flipped it open and helped herself to a dab of blight, letting it dissolve on her tongue.

Tossing the compact back at her mother, Pearl yanked her own rifle from her saddle. The choice was better than her revolvers for long shots, and they might be riding straight into an ambush.

Like yesterday, the world sharpened around her as the blight flooded her system.

They rode past the old stumps, scrutinizing the shrubs around and above, and the slopes that steepened into cliffs on either side. Pearl’s heightened mind lingered on the antics of courting mice in the brush to her left, until she viciously tore herself away. It was easy to get distracted by anything when everything was so clear.

The cart appeared, loaded with damp logs.

It wasn’t where they’d left it. It was farther up the shortened bank, tucked against the trees.

“Someone’s been here,” Pearl murmured.

The bodies were there too, all six of them, laid in a neat line out of reach of the rushing water.

Pearl and Sheriff Oak dismounted, still scanning the area intently. Pearl inspected the bodies and the ground. The rain had washed away much of the evidence of the conflict. Still, when she shifted what used to be Marcus, the earth was clean beneath him. “Whoever was here moved them after they’d bled out.”

“Who would’ve done that?” Sheriff Oak asked. “You certain there were only three strangers?”

Pearl looked at the incredibly heavy cart again, now resting at a different angle from yesterday. “Only three humans,” Pearl replied, her eyes dragging to the cliffs above.

When she’d recounted the story of yesterday, she’d skipped over the part about the blinkboars and the gargoyle. Specifically, Pearl’s agreement. Pearl was still confused by it, and she planned to figure out what the goyle actually wanted before she brought her town into it. Because if her mother knew, she wouldn’t let Pearl meet her alone. Perhaps for good reason. But Pearl had made a promise, and she was going to uphold it. Partly because of obligation, and partly because she was curious. Not many things grabbed Pearl’s curiosity, but that conversation certainly had, especially after it was over and she wasn’t expecting to be eaten at any moment.

The goyle had moved the cart. No other explanation made sense, yet that didn’t make much more.

The sun burned high in the sky. If Driz had returned to this place, she would be stone now. Was she sleeping somewhere above them? Pearl listened, but all of the concealed heartbeats she could hear were too fast and faint for a creature the size of a goyle. Did goyles even have heartbeats when they were stone?

“Cover me,” Sheriff Oak said, resting her gun and unstrapping a shovel from her saddle.

Pearl stood with her back to her mother, watching and listening. Even if it was the strange goyle who had been back, Faltsprings could still be sending another party as easily as Salt Bluff.

“We’ll bring a few more carts and clear out as much of this grove as we can today and tomorrow. Before they do. Now they know about this place.”

Sheriff Oak’s shovel thudded and scraped against the gritty soil as she dug a grave big enough for four. They’d send Willy and Billy back with the cart to be buried in their cemetery behind the mayor’s house, but the others would rest here.

Pearl helped roll their enemies into the pit. Each one she had killed. She didn’t bother taking too much care with them. As the dirt covered their faces, Pearl tried to erase them as effectively from her mind.

Molly sat on her back porch, a dead cigarette between her teeth, and the rocking chair drumming a steady rhythm on the wooden planks. Her sun-darkened skin showed her fondness for the spot and her equal disdain for hats. It looked as good on her as always.

Pearl crouched on the steps, rubbing Buster’s scraggly ears, as Molly inspected Pearl’s torn shirt. The heat of the day had dried it already, and the blood had mostly washed out.

“The pattern makes it easier to hide. I’ll make it work,” Molly said with a nod. “Think I got a bit of the fabric left. Might need a patch.”

“You’re the best.” Pearl stood, took a cigarette from her pocket, and lit it before reaching down and replacing the one in Molly’s mouth.

Molly grinned up at her. “Thanks, doll. I just fit this one to you last month. It looks too good on you to become scrap already.”

“Good on me? I’m gonna start blushing.”

“Oh, I know how to make you blush.”

Pearl returned Molly’s grin. “Yeah, you do.”

“You got time now?” Molly looked her up and down. “For this old matron?”