Magic in the Mix (15 page)

“But where's Ray?” hissed Molly. Miri stretched
her head as far forward as she dared and got a glimpse of Robbie's other shoulder. “You think they took him someplace?”

Miri could only shake her head. There was no way to know. After the torturous walk, they'd been relieved to see the fields give way to a wide road and then a house or two. A short time later, Carter directed his prisoners toward something that looked almost like a village—a few buildings clumped together—and then turned them down a dirt lane leading to the big white house. Miri and Molly had ducked from tree to tree to outhouse, keeping their brothers in sight until they saw Carter pull his horse to a halt and dismount. At that, they, too, came to halt, stuck at the back of the outhouse as first Carter and then Ray disappeared from view around the white corner. After a moment, Robbie lay down on the ground. That was all, for a long time. So Miri and Molly waited, twitching at every sound, peering at Robbie's head, telling each other he was okay, and trying to make a plan.

“I'm pretty sure he's just resting,” said Miri worriedly.

“This is crazy,” muttered Molly. “We should just
go get him. I'm going to go get him.” She started forward—and jumped back again as Carter's enormous figure appeared beside Robbie, prodding him with his boot.

Robbie didn't move.

Carter frowned, considered, and then kicked him in the ribs. Robbie groaned and curled into a ball. Carter looked up, toward the house. “He's alive!” he called. “So that's two!” He walked jauntily away.

Two prisoners. Two replacements for Jamie and his uncle. Miri felt slightly sick. She and Molly had made this happen or, at least, allowed it to happen. To think that she had been so proud the night before that she had saved Jamie. She hadn't given a moment's thought to what the older man had said—“You can get yourself some other boys, easy.” That was what Carter had done: He'd gotten her brothers. Easy. And if it hadn't been them, she reminded herself, it would have been someone else's brothers.

“We did this,” she muttered to Molly.

“I know we did,” Molly said. “And now we have to undo it.”

We have to undo it. But how? Okay, Miri told
herself, the good news is that we know Robbie's alive. But what about Ray? And where are they going to be taken? We should just go for it, she decided. We should stop waffling and go for it. And then Carter will kill us. Okay, we'll wait, she decided. We'll wait and see what happens. But they might take the guys somewhere we can't get them. We should go for it, she decided. But Carter. But—

“Mir?” Molly interrupted her thoughts.

“What?”

“Look at the house.”

“The
house
?” Who cared about the house?

“Yeah, the house,” whispered Molly. “And look up the road that way.” She pointed. “Does it look familiar?”

Impatiently, Miri turned to glance at the house. White, columns, long windows, big. So what? The road. Church, some kind of barn, store, house, big deal.

Wait. Miri squinted at the church. White. A bowl-shaped dome thing on top. A cemetery in the back. She swung quickly back to the house. Long windows with fans of glass at the top. Lots of low buildings behind. A wide front yard.

“Oh my gosh,” she breathed. “It's Paxton.”

In their own time, Paxton was a small, tired town featuring the usual assortment of fast-food restaurants, church thrift shops, insurance offices, grocery stores, and an out-of-place organic herbalist. But on a sign at the edge of town, it called itself PAXTON, DREAM OF THE OLD DOMINION, which meant it had been around for a long time. Every fifth grader within forty miles had to go on a field trip to view the historic sights of Paxton, consisting of a well, a piece of a jail, a church, and the Buckley House. At the Buckley House, nice ladies in hoopskirts showed them shiny old furniture, so it was generally considered to be the winner of the Field Trip Boredom Sweepstakes. In Miri and Molly's year, a kid on his second round of fifth grade and therefore his second round of the historic sights of Paxton, had tried to set the house afire. While this had added some temporary zest to the field trip, the ensuing teacher/policeman/firefighter frenzy had lasted all afternoon, giving Miri and Molly's class what their teacher later called a priceless opportunity to become experts in the architecture of the Buckley House.

And here it was, right in front of them. Dingier and dirtier than it was in the twenty-first century, but definitely the Buckley House.

“It's Paxton. We're in Paxton,” whispered Molly jubilantly. “We know where we are.”

Miri nodded, speechless with gratitude.
Thank you
, she said to the heavens.
Thank you
. It was their first piece of good luck. They knew Paxton. Paxton was three miles from their house. Three straight miles with landmarks that included a creek to keep them on the right path. She let out a long breath. It's going to be okay, she told herself. It's going to be fine. All they had to do was get the boys and run like crazy for the woods. If they moved fast, they'd have a decent head start. They'd dive into the woods, follow the creek, and get back to the house and the precious front door that would lead them home.

Her eyes fell on Robbie, motionless on the grass. She wondered if he could run at all, much less like crazy.

Molly followed her gaze. “Look,” she said, “Let's just
try
it. We're never going to get anywhere standing here staring at Robbie's head.”

Miri nodded. “You're right.” That was Molly—always ready to take action, to move forward. I should be braver, Miri thought. Bolder.
Oh yeah?
inquired her enemy brain.
Like yesterday? When you attacked Carter and started this whole mess?
Her brain was right, she decided. She should be more careful. “What about Carter?”

Molly considered Robbie, still lying S-shaped on the grass where Carter had left him. “Look,” she said, turning back to Miri. “He was talking to someone, right?” Miri nodded. “So there's someone else around. Someone watching! And Carter can't do anything to us if someone else is watching. Remember Hern? Hern said he couldn't hurt two little girls! That's us,” she added. “Two little girls.”

“You're right!” agreed Miri, and, re-emboldened, she stepped out from behind the outhouse.

“Hey!” Molly said in an agonized whisper. “Get back here! Roll up your pants! You've got to look like a girl!”

Whoops! Miri ducked quickly back into the outhouse shadow. “We should take our glasses off, too, I think,” she said as she yanked on her jeans and smoothed down her T-shirt into a more ladylike
shape. “I've never seen an olden-days girl with glasses.” Molly nodded and dropped her glasses into her pocket. Miri, doing the same, sighed as she entered the world of smear.

Now they were ready. Cautiously this time, they stepped into open territory—and paused, waiting to be caught. Nothing. Dead quiet. Carefully, slowly, their footsteps soft in the dirt, they crept toward the house. Nobody appeared. Nobody cried out, “Who are you? Stop!” The house stood still and silent in the pale afternoon light. They sidled along the wall—Miri noted that an awful lot of magic consisted of sidling along walls—until they reached the white brick corner that had been blocking their view for the last hour, and finally saw what lay beyond.

On a wide, weedy circle of grass, Ray was sitting beside Robbie's curled back. As they watched, he leaned over his brother, eyed his head worriedly, and then slumped back into his original position.

Carter was nowhere to be seen.

Miri and Molly looked at each other, nodded, and moved in unison out onto the lawn. “Ray!” called Miri, low.

He whirled around, and even without glasses, she could see the relief flooding over his face. “Miri! Robbie's—” he began.

“What in
tarnation
you think yer doing?” squawked a voice.

All three of them froze. Slowly, the two girls turned to face the Buckley House. There, on the porch, a man in uniform sat beside a white column, an unmistakable long pistol clutched in his hand. “
You
gals, you just get yourselves right-a-here this minute!” he bellowed indignantly.

Miri's eyes locked on Ray's. Don't say anything, she mouthed. He gave a tiny nod.

The guard, red-faced and scowling, watched them approach. “You coulda got shot, running out there like that, and you wouldn't have a soul to blame but yer own selves. What you got in your heads? Stuffing?”

“Eggs!” cried Molly merrily. Miri goggled at her. Eggs? Molly babbled on, “My mama's old hen laid sixteen eggs in the last four days, and Mama says it's a testament to the miraculous ways of Providence they didn't get eaten by a fox 'cause she hid one—that's the hen, not Mama—all the way under
the porch, and Mama says we got to offer the Lord's bounty to our fighting boys before the Yankees get 'em—that's the eggs, not the boys—so she sent us on over here to ask if y'all want to buy 'em—some eggs, that is—for a nickel. Apiece.” She ran out of breath.

Miri almost burst into applause. Eggs! How did Molly think of things like that? And how did she manage to act so real? She didn't stutter or hesitate. She sounded like a 100 percent genuine 1860s girl. And it worked! The scowling guard was smiling.

“You are right talkative, child,” he said. “Yer tongue gonna fall plumb outta yer head if you go on like that.”

Molly giggled. “That's just exactly what Mama says. Mama says a lady's voice is ever gentle and low, an excellent thing in a woman, but no one can hear you if your voice is ever gentle and—”

The soldier interrupted, “You said you got eggs?”

Molly nodded. “We got sixteen, but Mama ate two and put by two for me'n'her”—she poked her chin in Miri's direction—“and then she gave two to Dr. Purdy 'cause he came when Mama thought I
had the scarlet fever—which I didn't—and she didn't have a cent at the time, and all that leaves ten and that's what we want to know if you want. For only five cents apiece, which is real good, because we heard they sold 'em for twenty-five cents up in Boyce last week.”

The man was laughing now. “I don't see how you ever had time to swallow an egg, all the jabbering you do. I tell you what, girl, Mrs. Hibbs—” Suddenly, he stopped and glared over Molly's shoulder. “You just set yourself right back down, soldier, or I'll make you sorry you didn't.”

Miri turned to see Ray standing uncertainly in the grass. Though his face was a blur, Miri knew he was looking to her and Miri, hoping for direction. Behind her back, Miri spread her fingers and gestured toward the ground: Sit down. He sat down.

“You don't need no eggs nohow!” the guard called. “You'll be dead by morning!”

Miri felt the blood drain from her face.

“Well, looka you!” he said with concern. “You gone white as a sheet. You tenderhearted?”

Speechless, Miri nodded. Dead by morning?

“Aw, don't fret,” the soldier comforted her.
“They're Yankees. Same regiment as killed our boys over in Front Royal. Killed 'em in cold blood and now the Colonel aims to pay 'em back.” He nodded at her encouragingly, certain she would be cheered by this news.

“The Colonel's going to—he's going to—” Miri's mouth couldn't quite form the words.

“Hang 'em, I think.” The guard scratched his chin with the butt of his gun. “Maybe shoot 'em.”

“They look awful young,” Molly croaked.

The guard squinted at the two figures on the lawn, and Miri realized glumly that compared with most of the Civil War soldiers she'd seen, her brothers were tall and healthy-looking. “Nah,” he said. “Look at 'em. They're in the ranks, ain't they? They're old enough. One of those boys they killed over at Front Royal wasn't hardly seventeen. He wasn't even
in
the dang army, and they killed him just the same.” He glanced at Ray and Robbie once more, shrugged, and returned to the important subject. “Now, I would partake of an egg with a glad heart, 'cause I ain't had enough to eat today—nor yesterday, now that I think of it—but Mrs. Hibbs, she'd run me through with a red-hot poker if I ate
up the Colonel's breakfast.” He sighed. “She's right inside there.” He nodded to the front door. “Y'all can go in.”

“Mrs. Hibbs,” repeated Molly, somewhat numbly. “Yes, sir.” She cleared her throat. “We'll go on in.”

Miri cast an agonized look over her shoulder. Turning her back seemed like a betrayal. Was she seeing her brothers for the last time?

“Go on!” urged the guard. There was nothing else to do. Like robots, the two girls climbed the stairs. Behind them, the guard settled back against the column. “Say, boys, you hungry?” he yelled toward Ray and Robbie.

Silence.

“I say are you boys hungry?”

“Yeah,” Ray said.

“Well, don't you fret!” chortled the guard. “After tomorrow, you won't be hungry no more!”

The two girls entered the hallway, and Molly stopped, breathing hoarsely. “What're we going to do?” she whispered. She gripped Miri's shoulder. “What're we going to
do
?”

“Something,” Miri said. “I don't know what, but something.”

Molly lifted her head, and Miri saw panic in her eyes. “Tomorrow. They're going to hang them
tomorrow
.” Her fingers tightened. “If it were me instead of them, it'd be easy. I wouldn't care, but it's them, and it's our fault and I don't know what to do!”

She's scared, Miri realized with surprise. Molly's scared. She wants to make a decision, to take action, to fix the problem, but she's scared she's going to do the wrong thing. Most of the time, discovering Molly's fear would have doubled Miri's own. But now it made her feel protective. She found Molly's hand and squeezed it. “Listen,” she said. “I'll think of a way. You talk to Mrs. Hibbs about eggs and let me think. I'll find us a way out of this. I promise.”