Page 82 of Spring's Arcana
Ranger climbed in, turned the key, and the engine woke with a deep happy sound, much softer than the black car’s aggressive purr. The dash was simple—an old-fashioned button radio, speed and RPM dials, no odometer, and an orange bar to show which gear it was in.
“She rides smooth,” Ranger said. “Sometimes I miss wagons, but not often.”
Just how old are you?It was probably impolite to ask. Probably stupid to ask where they were going, too. There weren’t seatbelts, but it wasn’t like it mattered, was it? She folded her hands in her lap and watched the headlights blaze into life; the edge of the lot was revealed in pitiless detail, sad weeds straggling to reclaim the space where heavy human traffic wore everything down.
He cut the wheel hard right, they bumped onto pavement, and she tried her best to stare straight ahead.Spend the nightcovered a lot of ground. He wasn’t going to be “ungentlemanly,” but what did that even mean? She’d agreed to it, though, and it was for Mom.
She just hoped it wouldn’t hurt too much. What else would she have to pay to collect after this?
“Not one for talkin’, are you.” Ranger’s tone was thoughtful.
“Mouth shut, ears open.” One of Mom’s favorite sayings, whenever Nat had questions. “Especially since I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“Nobody really does, darlin’. Not even us. Ol’ Ma Winter has you thinking she’ll fix your mama? She said that specifically?”
Thinking she’ll fix her?“That was my understanding,” Nat said, carefully. “I get what Baba wants, and Mom gets out of hospice.”
Ranger glanced at her, back at the road. “Hospice.”
“It’s where they stick you when they’re sure you’ll die.” It was a night for being horrified at her own words; Nat had to squeeze her fingers to keep her hand from flying to her mouth to trap them.
“But…” A sidelong glance, his eyes gleaming like Dmitri’s. He wasn’t overpoweringly dangerous in the way the gangster was, but that contained, quiet thoughtfulness was far more concerning. It could break at any moment. “Maria ain’t been teaching you what to do? She ain’t told you a thing?”
“No. I think she was trying to protect me.” As soon as she said it, Nat was painfully struck by how illogical it sounded. Dmitri was an asshole, but he was right; if Nat was in the hospital, she couldn’t see Maria Drozdova taking the time to visit more than perfunctorily, let alone go on a cross-country road trip. “All this is terrifying, you know?”
“It’snatural. And it’s a mama’s job to make sure her daughter’s ready. ’Specially when it’s one of ours.” He shook his head, his hat a pale blur. “Still, I ain’t got no children yet and my own daddy wasn’t no prize, so reckon I can’t throw stones. But your mama’s from elsewhere, miss. She ain’t gonna get better.”
Thanks for that vote of confidence. “I haven’t done too badly so far.” Which was true, at least so far as Nat could see. “I went to a party at Jay’s—”
“New York Jay?” Ranger’s laugh, deep and soft, filled the truck cabin. “He still givin’ parties? Well, wonders never cease.”
“And I dealt with a flying van and a sorcerer, and then we were driving and there was a robbery in a convenience store—” Nat shuddered. Mom would have known what to do with the poor bleeding store clerk. “And then there was Officer Friendly, but I took care of him.”
“Oh, Friendly? He ain’t nothin’ like his name, the old… Well, he’s been after that horsethief forever, like that damn coyote after aroadrunner. Not gonna catch him anytime soon.” Ranger feathered the brake as they approached a shallow curve running alongside what would be a creek in summer but was now merely a deeper collection of branch-choked shadows. “You’re doin’ right well, I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. I just gotta say, Maria ain’t gonna get better. It ain’t the way of things, and standin’ in the way of things never did nobody no good.”
Nat stared at the cone of headlight glow, wondering if the entire trip was going to be riding in cars with strange cryptic men. Faded yellow dashes stuttered by on one side, a faint ghost of a white stripe on the other, worn away by time and almost lost under hard frost.
What if… just say, as a thought experiment, what if the Heart wasn’t enough, or if Nat was too late? Mom was already so thin, and Nat had put off visiting Baba for two whole months.
Not only had Nat ruined her mother’s life by being born, but she might have outright killed her just by being stupid and afraid. And what did it say about Nat Drozdova that the prospect of being too late filled her with horror, yes, but also with a deep rose-red stinging feeling that could only be described asrelief?
“So you’re here for what your mama left.” Ranger nodded, the crown of his hat almost brushing the top of the cab. “Can’t say as I’m sad to get rid of the bargain. Man keeps his own secrets, a’course, but others’ tend to weigh on you. Come morning I’ll lend you my horse, and he’ll take you to the Well.”
Is that an euphemism?“Okay.”
He studied the road as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. “You’re mighty agreeable.”
“I’m trying to be.”
“Are you? From over here it looks like you’re scared stiff.” His chin dipped slightly; the whites of his eyes glowed in the dashboard light. “Not that I blame you. Horsethief ain’t easy company.”
“Why do you call him that?”
“Used to be that’s what his kind was. Not even an outlaw, ’cause outlaw’s got a code.” Ranger gave her another one of those sidelong, considering glances. “Shot more than one in my day. That bother you?”
Everything about this bothers me. “No.”
“Friendly’s worshipers probably put a bullet in man who looks like me without pausin’, and feel just as easy about it.” For the first time, a harsh edge of anger crept into Ranger’s tone. “Sometimes I think about that while I’m ridin’.”
