Native Wind Page 18

  Gray Talon trotted obediently back to Sarah’s side. “That’s not good.”

  “No, but they gave me some ideas on how he’s working the magic, and it’s even worse. If I can, I’ll try to make it out to camp tomorrow and we can talk in person. I miss you.”

  “I miss you too. If I find out anything before we leave, I’ll let you know.”

  Then Trey was gone from his mind.

  “Good boy.” Sarah reached down to pat his head. It was part of the disguise, but it still irritated him to no end. “Now you stay close. We don’t need you getting lost and having some nasty ol’ coyote eat you, do we?”

  A deep chuckle escaped Dabinshire. “We don’t have any coyotes on the ranch anymore. Since Justin built the wall, we’ve managed to eradicate all the vermin on the property. We’re the safest ranch in this whole great country.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, Ronald,” Walfred said. “I feel safer already. Now where is McNair? Can’t that man ever be on time?”

  “We run on a little different time than the folks back east, Cornelius. He’ll be along in a moment. While we wait, let’s go see the horses over here. We just got them off the open range. They were being nuisances. It’s my understanding that our newest ranch hand broke the stallion yesterday. It was quite a show, from what my foreman says. He’ll start the mares this afternoon.”

  The rancher led them over to the corral. Peeking under the fence, Gray Talon caught a look at the stallion Trey had broken the day before. He understood his partner’s grief. The horse was magnificent, but all the fire was gone from him. His head still hung low, not down to his knees like Trey had said, but lower than a proud stallion should hold his head. The mares continued to have a wild and free look to them.

  “They’re beautiful,” Sarah said, leaning against the fence. “They look like fine stock. So they’re going to be ranch horses here?”

  “We’ll probably sell them at the Cheyenne horse auction in a few weeks,” Dabinshire said. “Every year, folks around here have a big horse auction to clear out unneeded stock before winter settles in. I think these will command a fine price there.”

  “Indeed they will,” she replied. “You tempt me into talking you out of one or two, but I don’t have anywhere for them to winter right now.”

  Walfred patted her arm. “My dear, we may just have to see what we can work out. They can always go back east if need be.”

  Sarah laughed good-naturedly. “Corny, you’re too good to me.” She turned and looked at the dragon’s daughter. “Daphne, when it comes time for you to find a man, make sure you find a good one. Be picky, my dear.”

  Daphne only smiled demurely. Even though Sarah had tried several times the previous night to engage the young woman in conversation, she remained quiet, watching and only nodding a couple of times. Gray Talon wondered if it was the spells binding her, or did the woman not have the ability to speak? He wished he knew more of dragons than just her mother.

  A loud grinding startled the horses, and Gray Talon spun around to see what it was as the livestock retreated to the far side of the corral. One advantage to being a small dog, you can be jumpy and people don’t suspect a thing. The door to the largest barn swung open. It didn’t slide like most barn doors; it swung wide on a pair of large metal arms.

  Rockwall McNair stood smiling in the center of the opening. “Please, everyone, come on in. I see you’re ready to visit where my creations come to life.” Gray Talon had been around enough magic in his life that he recognized the smell of it, and right then, it rolled off of McNair just like his arrogance did.

  “You like to make an entrance,” Walfred said, almost too soft to be heard, as they approached the barn.

  “Just trying to impress a potential investor,” McNair replied.

  “I’d be more impressed if you were on time more often.”

  They entered the barn without further words. Then a loud whistle went off, and everyone stopped.

  “There’s an Indian in here!” McNair shouted. He spun around and stared at all of them. “Which one of you is the Indian?” he demanded.

  “I have no idea what you’re going on about.” Walfred puffed himself up with indignation.

  Gray Talon scurried over to Sarah and tried to hide behind her leg, making sure to whine like a scared dog would. How has he been able to set up something that can tell that a shifted person has just entered his workshop? It must be some kind of magic. I have to warn Trey.

  “That sound, sir, means that an Indian has just crossed my threshold,” McNair explained, only lowering his voice slightly to do so. “I have special devices of my own creation that can tell when an Indian has come into my workshop. I know that they can change shape into whatever they want to. Perhaps one of you has brought in a flea or spider that is really an Indian.”

  Walfred turned to Dabinshire. “Ronald, what is he raving about? I mean, really, a flea or a spider? Can he be for real? If the natives were that skilled, we’d all be dead in our beds by now.”

  “Mr. Walfred, you don’t understand,” McNair continued before Dabinshire could say a word. “The Indians hate me! They’ve been trying to destroy me ever since I built the wall that protects the ranch from their trespassing. I have to be on constant vigil to make sure they don’t sneak in here and kill me. They try my defenses every chance they get. We kill every wild animal that gets onto the ranch because we never know which one might be an Indian.”

  “This is absurd. Then how do you know those horses out in the corral that you just captured aren’t Indians? Maybe one of them changed into a fly and flew in as we walked through. McNair, you might be a brilliant inventor, but I think all the magic has made you unstable. Dabinshire, get your man under control, or I will stick to hard labor to build my railroads!” Walfred spun on his heels and headed back to the carriage. “Come along, Sarah.”

  Sarah followed without a word. Gray Talon scurried to keep up, his pulse racing.

  “The dog!” McNair shouted. “It must be the dog!”

  “Justin, let it go,” Dabinshire said. “You have to calm down!”

  Several of the ranch hands ran toward the workshop. Gray Talon spotted Trey.

  “Be careful. He has some kind of magic that allowed him to know that a shifted person had entered his workshop.”

  “Did he figure out it was you?” Trey stopped among the other workers.

  Dabinshire ran after the fleeing railroad man. “Cornelius, come back! He didn’t mean to accuse you or Sarah of anything.”

  “Maybe, but Walfred isn’t staying around, so I think I’m safe.”

  “Be careful.”

  Walfred stopped just feet from the carriage. The driver hurried to open the door for him. He turned to face Dabinshire. “Look, Ronald, the man may be a genius, but I will not take to the idea that I’m harboring spies or that Sarah’s dog is really an Indian. How absurd is that? I mean, really, what Indian with any ounce of self-respect would turn himself into a lapdog? Besides, everyone knows that the Indians who can change their shape can only assume one animal form, and it’s normally something like a bear or an eagle. A dog or a flea? The man should be locked up.”

  Gray Talon agreed with most of what the railroad man said, even if he was the Comanche in the shape of a lapdog. But knowing that McNair had special defenses up just for the People would make things harder. At least Trey should come across as white, unless what McNair’s spells caught was native magic; then Trey would be in trouble too.

  “Cornelius, you don’t know what we… he went through during the building of the wall. The Indians killed his brother. Actually they killed his whole family,” Dabinshire tried to explain. “He has a right to fear and hate them. I’m sorry he reacted that way. I’m sure it’s just a glitch in his system.”

  “And if his security system, or whatever the hell it is, is glitchy, then how bad are his metal men? I can’t afford to invest in them only to have them running around killing people. These things aren’t the same a
s slaves. When a slave killed someone, you just killed the slave and had done with it. These things, I could be held responsible for anything they do wrong. Now you get your man under control. He better get his metal men under control. I’ll be in town two more days. If you want to find a way to salvage this… you know where to find me.” He turned to Sarah. “My dear.” He gestured to the open door of the carriage. “And I expect him to offer a sincere apology to Sarah after insulting her little dog.”

  Gray Talon jumped into the carriage at Sarah’s heels. As she settled into her seat, he looked back toward the workshop, where Daphne stood in the slowly closing doorway. Her golden eyes stared into his. She at least knew what he was, but she remained oddly silent.

  Walfred fumed all the way back to Cheyenne. After trying to offer a bit of comfort, Sarah retreated to the other side of the carriage and sat there, petting Gray Talon. He endured it as he worried about Trey.

  24

  DABINSHIRE STOOD in the middle of the yard as the carriage rolled away. Rage contorted the man’s face, but he remained silent as he stood there watching the carriage disappear. Daphne came up and stood behind him, silent. She didn’t reach out and touch him like a normal daughter would to try to calm her father. She waited.

  Trey stood with the other ranch hands. The men, like Daphne, were strangely quiet. Some of them looked toward the now closed workshop doors, but no one so much as shuffled a foot. In the corral even the horses stood still, taking in the spectacle. The farther the carriage got, the easier Trey breathed. If McNair had something that knew when a shifted person was around, Gray Talon needed to get away. Now he wanted to get into the workshop more than ever. What kind of magics does the man possess? What secrets are hidden in there?

  Turning back toward the workshop, Dabinshire spotted the men standing there watching him. “What are you men standing around for? I don’t pay you to gawk. Get back to work!”

  “Come on, guys, we got chores to do. We can all stand around when Trey works the horses in a few hours,” Charlie said as he started walking back toward the barn.

  The men all moved off.

  Daphne remained standing still even as Dabinshire stormed past her.

  “Charlie, I finished getting the stall cleaned out a few minutes ago,” Trey said as he caught up with the tall cowboy. “What do you say I check over the tack we’re using on breaking?” He jerked his head over to where most of it still hung on the fence where it had been the day before. “That saddle I used yesterday could’ve done with a bit of oiling.”

  Charlie glanced about as if to make sure there wasn’t anything undone. “Okay, I can’t think of anything else for you to do right now. If Martin says anything, tell him it was my idea.”

  “Will do,” Trey replied. Minutes later he had returned from the tack room and settled in on the fence to work on the equipment. The stallion came over to him. The horse’s eyes were still dull compared to what they had been the day before. His intelligence shone through the cloudiness.

  “Hey, big guy.” Trey reached out a hand to rub the horse’s gray and white forehead. “Sorry about yesterday. I’ll make it up to you if I can.”

  The stallion snorted as if it understood.

  Trey rubbed the cloth in his other hand over the dry saddle. The leather drank the oil in. As his hands fell into the rhythmic work of cleaning and oiling the tack, he pushed his senses out. He focused his hearing on the closed door of the workshop, where Daphne now stood with her face just inches from the worn boards. He wanted to study her with his magical sight, but that would be a bit more obvious to anyone watching than if he were trying to hear what was going on in the building. Being thankful that it didn’t take all his concentration to work on the tack, and that he was able to do it outside where he was closer to the workshop, Trey listened and finally started hearing the sounds inside the closed doors.

  “I don’t care that there may have been an injun in here!” Dabinshire shouted. “There couldn’t have been more than one. You may have just cost us the deal.”

  “But that deal won’t mean anything if they get in here and kill me!” McNair countered. “You have to have me for this to work. There’s not anyone else who can make the metal men. I’m the only one who can craft the bodies and the only one who knows the secret of their power. It would take someone else years to figure it out. And only another earth mage could get it to work right.”

  “But for the bigger picture, we have to have Walfred’s support, not just his money. He has the contacts with the other railroads. He’s also got the contacts in Washington. I can’t just walk into Washington without him. Even with Daphne under our control, we still need Walfred.”

  “So let me put him under my control too.”

  “And do what? We need him to be able to talk and react. It’s one thing to have Daphne dutifully following me around and being quiet. People expect women to act like that. It’s another to have Walfred doing it. We need him functional.”

  Trey finished with the first saddle on the fence and reached for the halter.

  “I don’t know why she’s not as functional as she should be. It could be because she’s a dragon. I know that she’s fighting my spells. I have to renew them every couple of days, or she’ll wake up and break the bonds I have on her. If she does that, all our plans are over. Walfred, he’s weak-minded enough that I should be able to get him under control easily, maybe with as little as getting a ring on his finger or a coin in his pocket. That silly woman with him would be even easier. Women are so much more pliable than men.”

  A chuckle escaped Trey’s lips. McNair didn’t know Sarah. The role she played to get close to them would shatter if McNair pushed too hard against her.

  “Do you really think the woman’s dog was an Indian?” Dabinshire asked.

  “Almost positive. I’ve never seen one shift that small before, or into a dog before…. Anything’s possible… but something set off the alarms. It would have to have been raised by civilized men to have the shape of a lapdog.”

  “And there couldn’t be a glitch in the system?”

  “No, I check those spells once a week. Indians have a special aura about them, even when they’re shifted. I’ve heard that some mages can see that aura. I can’t, but I know it exists, and my spells catch it.”

  Pity welled up in Trey for McNair. The man probably didn’t know it, but he had just voiced the core of his problem. He was blind to magic. Magic users needed to be able to see the auras of the world around them to properly manipulate the forces they controlled. Since McNair couldn’t see auras, he was just yanking things around blindly. If he could see what he’d done, he likely wouldn’t have left the scars he did when he worked his powers. How different would things be if he saw what other mages see? If he could see the wondrous magical world that I can see?

  “Well, you’re going to need to go in to town with me, tonight, and set this right,” Dabinshire continued. “We can’t afford to let Walfred and this opportunity get away. You’re going to get cleaned up to the nines. You’re going to be nice. You’re going to apologize. And you’re not going to mention Indians trying to kill you. I also recommend that you stay far away from that little dog.”

  “Fine, but you remember that without these metal men and Daphne, there’s no way your plans would work out. And you have both of them thanks to me. You may be the schemer here, but my power is what makes your schemes into reality. Without me you’d be a bitter, lonely man with just his asshole brother-in-law foreman and a two-bit thief for company on the big ol’ ranch. And you’d still have a problem with injuns running through and stealing your cattle.”

  Moments later, Dabinshire slammed out of the workshop doors. Daphne fell into step behind him. Trey shivered in the warm fall sunlight at the thought of the magic that must have gone into imprisoning her mind. If she struggled to escape, no wonder McNair had to regularly renew it. With any luck, and help from the spirits outside the wall, he’d be able to find a way to break the spells an
d free the dragon held by them.

  25

  “SO DO we have an alternate plan tonight?” Sarah brushed her hair.

  Gray Talon lay back on the hotel bed. “Well, I definitely want to be in the room, but I think the dog’s out of the question at this point. McNair’s just crazy enough to shoot me and claim it was an accident.”

  “We don’t want that. So what are you going to do?”

  “If we were somewhere other than Cheyenne, I’d be tempted to go down to dinner as myself and sit at the bar. But they dislike us so much here, that might cause a commotion with a ‘dirty injun’ being out of his place.”

  “But you can turn into any animal. So why not a white man?”

  Gray Talon gave her a wide-eyed look. “I’ve never tried it, but it’s an appalling idea. Why on earth would I want to be a white man?”

  “To blend in.” Sarah set her hairbrush down in front of the mirror and turned toward him. “Just because you’ve never done it, doesn’t mean it can’t be done. Why not try it? If it works, then you could hang out at a table near us and keep an ear on what was going on. I really doubt that anything important happens tonight. I figure it’s just going to be Dabinshire and McNair groveling to Corny to try to get back in his good graces. I guess if you don’t want to be a white man, you could always be the proverbial fly on the wall.”

  He stared at her. “They may have joked about the flea back at the ranch, but it’s very hard to change into insects. Singing Crow warned me about doing it years ago when we found out that I had multiple forms. Insects are too different from humans and cause a disruption in the magic that allows the change.”

  “Okay, then. Humor me. Try turning into a white man. Do someone you know—turn into Trey.” She paused. “Singing Crow didn’t warn you not to do that, did he?”