Misplaced (101 page)

F
ro
m
th
e
h
u
ma
n
kn
o
t
,
a
woma
n
cam
e
for
t
h
.
T
h
e
h
i
gh
arc
h
o
f
he
r
e
y
ebro
w
an
d
he
r
singl
e
dimpl
e
tol
d
V
ictori
a
she
w
as Oli
v
e
r
’s mother. The woman s
w
ept her graying hair back
agains
t
th
e
breez
e
an
d
wrun
g
he
r
hands
.
“Mrs
.
Szabó
,
you
shouldn’
t
b
e
here,
”
sh
e
cautione
d
nervously
,
avoidin
g
e
ye contact with
V
ictoria.

“
I
know
,
bu
t we
ar
e
i
n
rathe
r
desperat
e
nee
d
o
f
Ben’s
wisdom.”

Th
e
woma
n
too
k
a
ste
p
back
.
“Wha
t
d
o
yo
u
w
an
t
from
Ben?
”
sh
e
asked
,
an
d
the
n
nodde
d
to
w
ar
d
th
e
to
p
o
f
the
mountain
.
“H
e
coul
d
b
e
u
p
ther
e
al
l
night
.
I
can’
t
imagin
e
you
’
d
w
ant to
w
ait.”

“Just
look
at
those
two,”
Celeste
said,
motioning
to
Oli
v
er
an
d
Khara
.
“Surel
y
yo
u
understan
d
tha
t
I
didn’
t
ha
v
e
much
choice in the matter.”

Oli
v
e
r
’
s
mothe
r
sighed
.
“I’
ve
ne
v
e
r
see
n
hi
m
so—
w
ell,
ne
v
er
like
this.”
She
ackno
w
ledged
V
ictoria,
saying,
“I
am
Nita
Spottedbird.
My
son
tells
me
you
are
someone
to
be
reckoned
with.
”
Sh
e
laughe
d
a
s
i
f
rememberin
g
a
pri
v
at
e
joke
.
“Sinc
e
you
two
arri
v
ed
at
the
Square-4,
I
ha
v
en’t
heard
a
thing
about
his
classes.”

A
woma
n
standin
g
no
t
thre
e
fee
t
a
w
a
y
snarled
,
“
I
don’t
care
who
they
are;
they
don’t
belong
here.
This
is
not
a
tourist
attraction.”

Nita fired the woman look that shut her up. "Come with me," she said, resignedly.

Her broad shoulders cut through the clearly
disgruntled
group
,
leavin
g
plent
y
o
f
shrug
s
an
d
raise
d
e
y
ebrow
s
i
n
her
w
ake
.
A
handfu
l
o
f
wome
n
follo
w
ed
as she
le
d
the
m
t
o
a
n
eight—
foot-wide
,
brush-co
v
ere
d
fram
e
o
f
branche
s
situate
d
a
short
w
alk from the fire.

Celest
e
an
d
V
ictori
a
steppe
d
inside
.
A
t
Nita’
s
insistence,
they
sat
on
rough
wool
blankets
stacked
around
the
perimeter.
A
small
cast
iron
sto
v
e
in
the
center
provided
enticing
w
armth.
Soon
,
th
e
wickiu
p
spille
d
o
v
e
r
wit
h
con
v
ersation
;
i
t
sounded
lik
e
a
floc
k
o
f
grackle
s
i
n
a
tree
.
V
ictori
a
w
atche
d
Celeste
participate
effortlessly
in
two
and
sometimes
three
discussions.
She
laughed
and
drank
from
a
crude
clay
jug
that
w
as
passed
into her mittens.

“Tr
y
some
.
It
’
l
l
w
ar
m
yo
u
righ
t
up,
”
sh
e
commanded
V
ictoria,
who
ga
v
e
the
jug
a
disapproving
look
and
shook
her
head
.
“Oh
,
com
e
on
,
li
v
e
a
li
t
tle,
”
Celest
e
urged
,
exasperated
y
et
amused.
She
pressed
the
jug
into
V
ictoria’s
hands
with
an
impis
h
grin
.
“Thi
s
i
s
no
t
th
e
tim
e
t
o
b
e
unsociable
.
I
’
l
l
be
t
you’
v
e
ne
v
er had mescal before.”

“Nope. I’
v
e heard enough stories, though.”

“Don’
t
b
e a
prude
.
It’
s
quit
e
prize
d
fo
r
it
s
medicinal
qualities.
In
fact,
the
name
‘Mescalero’
w
as
besto
w
ed
on
these
people
by
the
Spaniards,
who
w
ere
amazed
by
their
ability
to
thri
v
e
in
pl
ac
es
w
here
w
ater
a
nd
f
oo
d
w
e
re
a
l
mos
t
n
o
nexi
s
tent.
No
t
onl
y
coul
d
the
y
prepar
e
a
poten
t
drin
k
fro
m
th
e
mescal
plant
,
bu
t
i
t
w
a
s
a
foo
d
stapl
e
a
s
w
ell.
”
Sh
e
too
k
anothe
r
healthy
swig and placed the jug in
V
ictoria’s hands.