Magic in the Mix (12 page)

Carter stamped his boot. “Enough! Let's see this gold!”

The man cleared his throat. “Black horse lying over there. Hundred in the right saddlebag, inside a bandage. Another hundred down in the ditch, on the buckskin—there's a pocket in the saddle blanket. That white mare, that ugly one over there? She's got a hundred somewheres on her, dunno where. That fellow there, see him? Another hundred, I think in his boot. I got the other. Right here.” There was a sound as he adjusted himself. “You can probably get it easier than I—have a care!” he squealed as he was searched roughly.

Miri heard grass swish as Carter and Hern strode away. Minutes passed with bridles rattling softly in the distance and pleased calls as the men found their treasure.

Against the barn, the soldier murmured encouragement to Jamie. “Steady, son. Almost there. Yep, that's it, that's it, he's got Turcott's hundred, whoops. There. Just breathe easy; it's almost done—” Miri wondered if Jamie heard any of it. Stay alive, she ordered him silently. “Now, see, that tall Reb's tossed up a bag of gold like it don't weigh a thing. Aw, the mare don't like him; she's going to kick him—hah!—he almost shot his own foot off. Wish he had. He's giving his pistol to the other one to hold, and, oh, now
he's got her. You just keep breathing, Jamie. They got most all of it now, just the one more, and then we can—” He broke off as the men returned and called out eagerly, “Found it all? That's fine. Now, if you'll see to Jamie here, please. Just put him on the horse, and I'll get myself up—”

There was a snicker. “I don't recall saying anything about the boy,” Carter said. “I said I'd give you a horse. I said I'd help you onto it. I didn't say a thing about a boy.”

Miri and Molly looked at each other, hating Carter.

“No!” cried the soldier. “You made a bargain! Jamie, too! He's my own nephew, my sister's lad. I can't leave him behind!”

“Carter.” It was Hern's voice. “We made a deal.”

“I made a deal for one,” said Carter airily. “Not two. Two will cost more.”

“I ain't got any more!” shrilled the soldier. “You promised. On your honor, you said!”

“I did no such thing, Yankee, and I'll shoot anyone who says I did,” Carter said in a tight voice. “This boy is a prisoner of war, and I'd need a good deal more gold to let him go.”

“You scoundrel! You lying sinner!” The soldier
was almost sobbing with helpless fury. “You low-down, two-bit cheat!”

“Shut your mouth, Yankee,” said Carter.

But the soldier was too furious to stop. “You lying dog, you dirt-licking—”

There was crunch of boot against rib, and a strangled yelp.

“Now, Carter!” begged Hern. “Stop that, Carter!”

“I'll not be insulted by a Yankee. Any man who calls me a liar pays the price,” Carter snapped. Then, with a guffaw, “No! Better yet, the boy pays the price!”

“No!”

Without even knowing what she was doing, Miri was on her feet. “No!” she cried, catapulting for the door. She couldn't bear it. He was going to do something awful to Jamie, and she couldn't bear it. “He didn't do anything!” she shrieked. “Leave him alone, leave him alone,
leave him alone
!” And then she was outside, in the bright, empty light, charging for Carter.

He spun around, startled, and she threw herself at him, kicking and slapping at whatever she could reach.

“
Stop it! Stop it! Leave him alone!
” she screeched as she pounded and pummeled, but even fueled by fury, her fists made no headway. It was like hitting a tree.

An angry tree. “What the devil's this?” Carter shouted, swatting at her. “Get off me, you catamount!” He twisted to avoid her, and she managed to land a punch to his chin. It was a weak blow, but she surprised him and he bit his tongue. “Ow!” he bellowed, diving at her.

Miri dodged away—eleven years with Ray and Robbie had taught her that much, at least—and stuck out her tongue. “Can't catch me, you freak!” she cried. Maybe if she made him mad enough, he would chase her, and the soldier and Jamie would have a chance to slip away. “Try it! Try to catch me!” she taunted. Sometimes big people were awkward and slow.

Not Carter. He let out an exasperated snort, and she felt his enormous hand close like steel around her arm. He lifted her up and shook her like a doll. “Stupid child! Quit dancing about!” He jerked Miri close to his face, and for a split second, they gazed at each other. His eyes were yellowish, like marbles, and as he looked at her, Miri saw a change come over his face; standard adult aggravation at a kid's interference transformed before her eyes into something much weirder, something it took her a
second to identify: anticipation. His mouth spread into a smile. “Why,” he murmured, “you look just like my little sister.” He snickered. “But perhaps you'll have better luck.”

Miri gave an involuntary shudder: There was nothing as scary as people who liked to be scary. Carter's pale eyes gleamed with satisfaction as she twisted in his grip, trying to think. Think, she urged herself. Think quick, like Molly. Right, okay, he'll probably break my arm in a second, so I need to hurt him as much as I can before that. She drew back her foot, slammed him in the knee, and saw his eyes open wide with surprise and pain.

She cringed, waiting for him to hit her, but to her astonishment, he went suddenly still. Maybe I really hurt him, she thought, encouraged. “Go! Go!” she shouted over her shoulder at the soldier against the barn, “Take Jamie and go!”

There was a pause. “That all right, missy?” the soldier asked politely.

“Yes,” said Molly's voice. Miri wriggled in Carter's grip, trying to see around him. “Let go of her,” Molly ordered, and Carter's hand opened.

Miri moved quickly out of his reach—and saw
the new balance of power. Molly stood behind Carter with a heavy iron pitchfork in her hands. Miri's eyes followed the long handle and came to rest on the five sharp metal points pressed into the back of Carter's neck. As Miri watched, Molly began to edge around him, the needle-sharp points etching a thin circle of red in his neck. His eyes followed Molly's movement, narrowing slightly when Miri's hands joined Molly's to hold the pitchfork steady.

“Can you get Jamie up on the horse by yourself?” Molly called to the soldier.

“Uh, I believe so,” he said eagerly. “I think so. If I can just—” Miri couldn't see what he was doing, but she heard him breathe heavily with effort. He was trying to stand up. “Sure do appreciate it, missy, you helping out the Union cause like this,” he muttered as he fumbled and gasped. “I'll send a letter to—to—General Augur and, and—to General Grant himself, yessir, I mean ma'am. Whew!” There was a pause. “I'm up!”

“Hern!” Carter said in an agonized croak. “Shoot them, for God's sake!”

Hern!
Miri had forgotten about him. She glanced desperately over her shoulder—where was Hern?

Hern's voice came from behind her. “I ain't shooting no little girls,” he said with finality, and Miri let out a relieved breath. She saw that Molly was doing the same. “Seems to me like we got our five hundred dollars and we shoulda left well enough alone.”

“Fool,” said Carter through his teeth. “I reckon he's got another five hundred on him somewhere.”

“No, he don't. The way I see it,” Hern said, “we bargained on five hundred and they paid five hundred, and I ain't shooting them nor any little girl just 'cause she got you treed.” He gave a sudden hacking laugh. “And, Carter, I never seen a better joke on you. Treed by two little girls! They got you fair and square—and they ain't so high as your elbow, either of 'em!”

Frustrated, furious, Carter made a lightning grab for the pitchfork—and gasped as Molly jabbed it hard into his neck. “Not so fast, buster!” she snapped. “One move and I'll poke it right in your eyes.”

Hern guffawed. “You tell him, sister! Funniest dang thing I ever seen! Old Nick Carter! Beaten by a pair of girls! Haw!”

Beneath Hern's honks of laughter, they heard the repetitious mutter of the wounded man as he
attempted to lift Jamie into the saddle. “Come on, boy, come on, Jamie, you're all right—”

Hern was still laughing when he strolled over to the struggling soldier. “Aw, you gonna bust a gut doing that. Here.” Easily, he took the man under the arms and lifted him into the saddle. A second later, he handed the boy up to his uncle, who wrapped his arms around the still, limp body, mumbling his meaningless words of comfort.

As the horse started toward the road, the soldier turned to nod to Miri and Molly. “Thank you, missies. You, too, Johnny,” he said to Hern. “And you,” he said to Carter, “the devil's got a fire waiting for you.”

For some reason, this sent Hern into fresh gales of honking. “Old Nick Carter!” he gasped, wiping the tears streaming from his eyes.

Suddenly, Carter straightened, despite the sharp prongs, his eyes on the road. “Here's the Colonel!”

The Colonel? Miri glanced nervously over her shoulder—and the pitchfork was wrenched from her grasp.

“Gotcha!” bellowed Carter, flinging the pitchfork aside and lunging for Molly.

She eluded him by a hair, dancing away from his fingers as they closed, and Miri saw her first long leap. “
House!
” she cried as she ran past.

House? Right! House! Miri tore toward it, with Carter thundering at her heels. “I'll teach you,” he roared. “I'll make you pay!”

Molly ran like a deer, bounding up the grassy slope. Miri, always slower, prayed to the gods of speed and pelted forward as best she could. It was just before her, not the house she knew, but all she needed was the door, the familiar door—

Just ahead of her, Molly was scrambling up the stairs, reaching a hand back to pull her forward—

Miri heard Carter's triumphant cry of “Mine!” and felt the brush of his fingertips against her back. The touch gave her a burst of terror, and she sprang upward to clasp Molly's hand. Together, they hurled themselves at the wooden door, flung it wide, and jumped.

There was one final fraction of a second for Miri to twist around and scream “Loser!” into Carter's face. And then they smashed through the sickening web of time.

Cookie stepped daintily into the kitchen and froze, aghast at the sight of Miri and Molly lying like fallen plums in the middle of the floor. After a worried moment, the kitten padded to Miri's side and placed a soft paw on her face.

“Yaah!” Miri shot upward in fright.

Molly lifted her head. “What happened?” she croaked.

“Oh. It's just Cookie.” Miri exhaled in relief and lay down once more, setting the kitten on her stomach. “Hi, sweetie-kitty.” After a moment, an uncontrollable purr spilled from Cookie as she snuggled into Miri's hand.

Molly edged closer, and her hand joined Miri's
in stroking the kitten's soft fur. Eyes—both kitten and girl—closed. For a while, the only sound in the kitchen was purring.

“Whatsamatter with you guys?”

Miri opened an eye. Four incredibly dirty sneakers, covered with inky words and pictures, stood inches from her face. She looked up. “Hi.”

Ray and Robbie exchanged frowns. “You're on the
floor
,” said Ray. “You're sleeping on the
floor
.”

“Brilliant observation,” yawned Molly.

They'd landed in the front hallway on their hands and knees, sick and frightened. When they'd stopped shaking, they crawled to the kitchen and collapsed in a dazed heap. After the mayhem of war, the tense wait inside the barn, the fight with Carter, running for their lives, and breaking through time, the girls felt like the wooden floor was the most comfortable surface ever invented.

“That's lame,” concluded Ray.

“Listen, Mir.” Robbie dropped his backpack next to her head with a floor-shaking thump. “We got you an excused absence, okay?”

Miri blinked at him. “You did? How?”

Identical grins flickered across her brothers' faces. “Never mind.”

“No, really,” she insisted. “How? Are you going to get in trouble?”

They snickered and shook their heads. “There's this girl—” began Robbie.

“Robbie,” warned Ray. “She'll kill us, bro.”

Robbie hesitated and decided against it. “So anyway, Mom won't know you cut.” He bent to unzip his backpack. “And I got your guys's homework, too. You got some in Lang Arts and”—he stirred the dark bowels of his backpack—“you both got math.”

“Gosh, Robbie.” Miri was touched. “You checked all our classes? That was really nice.” Actually, since Robbie rarely managed to bring home all his own homework, it was beyond nice; it was amazing.

Ray snorted. “He didn't. Some dumb girl, Abby something, she gave it to him. She said she was your-guys' best friend.”

Miri and Molly looked at each other doubtfully. Abby who?

“Oooh,
Robbie
,” squealed Ray, “tell your sisters to
text
me! We were going to hang out together at
your
house this Saturday!”

Robbie turned a little red, but he shrugged. “Whatever. We're not going to be here anyway.”

“Oooh,
Robbie
, you just
have
to be there, I'm going to
hate
you if you aren't,” sang Ray. He made a long, smacking kissy sound.

Just as he had intended, the kissy sound pushed Robbie over the edge. “Shut up!” he cried, slapping the back of his brother's head.

Ray ducked. “Oooh, Robbie,” he cackled, “you're so
cute
when you're mad! You look just like Justin Bieber, except ugly!”

“Least I don't look like a butt,” grumped Robbie.