Stranger (17 page)

Mia

“TEN!”

Mia made sure everyone was crouched down and out of range of the shock wave.

“Nine . . . eight . . . seven . . .”

She gripped the plunger, smiling to herself. Two explosions in three days—first the pit mouth, and now blowing up ancient sewers for scrap metal. She hoped something interesting would turn up so Ross would want to stay.

“Six . . . five . . . four . . . three . . . two . . .
one
!”

Mia shoved the handle down. She felt more than heard a dull thump. Then the blast kicked up a satisfying cloud of dust and debris. The shockwave rocked her back on her heels and filmed her glasses with powdery earth. In the distance, it rained metal.

Mayor Wolfe rose gracefully. “An excellent detonation, Mia. The raw materials will be much appreciated.”

People moved into the hanging cloud of dust to collect the scrap metal and cement.

Julio Wolfe gave her a high-five as he went by. “Not bad for the youngest mechanic in history.”

By the time Mia got back to town, it was late afternoon. She ran down her list of outstanding jobs. She didn't look forward to a hot, boring walk to the broken spigot at the farthest end of the cornfields. Why not get in some shooting practice instead? It was the one kind of drill she enjoyed.

She found nearly the entire teenage population of Las Anclas at the range, instead of at their apprenticeships. Then she remembered: the monthly archery tournament was approaching. They'd practice all week and make up their work time later. But the only people actually training were Yuki and Meredith, and Ross, all alone on the other side, struggling with a crossbow, his profile frustrated and angry. Everyone else stood around in a clump, talking.

Becky was saying to Felicité, “I'm honored, of course, but a presentation with everyone watching? To the mayor? I couldn't! Ask Brisa. Nothing scares her.”

Brisa grinned. “What if I did it with you?”

Felicité adjusted her hat. “Certainly. I'll order another bouquet. I want this to be special, since it's my first community celebration.”

“Oh, I'd love to do it. Come on, Beck, if we're together it'll be fun.”

Becky eyed Brisa as if it was the least fun thing she'd ever heard of, then reluctantly said, “Okay. But only if you're with me.”

“Nothing easier, since we're going together!” Brisa gave Becky's shoulder a squeeze. Becky smiled doubtfully.

“Thank you both,” Felicité said pleasantly. “Jennie, since I'm never any good at the tournaments, do you mind if I get on with my chores? What with our guest, the investigation, the preparations for my celebration . . .”

Investigation?

“Of course, Felicité.” Jennie's manner was tense. Something was up.

Becky said, sounding troubled, “Oh, I hope it's not true about Ross.”

“What about Ross?” asked Mia, glancing across the range, where he let fly an arrow that missed the target entirely, then wrung his left hand.

“That stranger says Ross is a claim jumper,” Sujata explained. “Felicité doesn't believe it, but her parents want an investigation.”

Henry laughed. “I hope he is! That would be cool.”

Will Preston shoved forward, glowering. “Claim jumpers are not cool.”

“Who says he's telling the truth?” José demanded. “That guy looks more like a claim jumper than Ross.”

“My dad says there's something suspicious about Ross,” Tommy Horst added.

Meredith stalked up, bow in hand. “Who cares what your dad says?”

Sujata said earnestly, “Why would a bounty hunter be chasing Ross? They're paid to catch criminals.”

“He might be after Ross's finds,” Mia said.

That caught Henry's attention. “I thought he showed up with nothing but his own blood, and the clothes on his back.”

She quickly backtracked. “Nothing special! He had some stuff in his pack. Earrings and stainless-steel forks and tinfoil. Stuff like that.”

“A bounty hunter chasing a guy down the Centinela Arroyo after tinfoil?” Henry retorted incredulously. “Not a chance. Ross has to be some kind of outlaw, or there's no reason for that guy to be here. I think that's cool. I mean, it's interesting.”

“Pa Riley says bounty hunters are nothing but thieves themselves,” said José. “They steal people. And sell them.”

Henry smirked at Yuki, who was still determinedly practicing. “Looks like Ross is another Alvarez. Did you sign up to travel with him, too, Prince Yuki?”

With an icy edge in his voice, Yuki said, “Drop it, Henry.”

He snapped a salute. “Yes, Your Highness.”

Sujata nudged Mia. “If you knew anything, you'd tell us, right? Just because he's your boyfriend—”

“Boyfriend?” Henry clapped his hands to his forehead and staggered. “Mia has a boyfriend?”

The thirteen-year-olds instantly began a chorus of kissy noises and moans of “Mia's in
lo-o-o-ove
!”

Henry laughed. “I thought the only hot dates you ever had were with your crescent wrench!”

Thud!
Ross's knife slammed into the bull's-eye. He threw another.
Thud!
Another bull's-eye. Henry was nowhere near, but he took a step back.

Mia's entire body prickled. “He's not my boyfriend!” She'd spoken loudly enough for Ross to hear. “And he's not a claim jumper!”

The boys laughed. She backed away hastily.

Sujata pursued her. “Hey, Mia, I didn't mean anything by it. I only—hey! We all know what the first time's like. Come back, it's okay!”

“I have work!” Mia fled.

That's what she got for avoiding that stupid spigot! She fetched her bag of tools and took the long way to the cornfields, hoping she'd feel better by the time she got there. She didn't. She sat down, the corn stalks towering over her head, and dried her eyes on her shirt.

“In love.” Trust those obnoxious boys to make it sound like something to be ashamed of. What did “in love” even mean? Love songs talked about worlds turning upside down, and feeling faint, and being so overcome with fire and passion and stuff that you couldn't even speak.

She'd never been overcome with fire and passion, which had always made her feel like something was wrong with her. If anything, Ross was easier to talk to than the guys she'd known all her life. When he smiled at her, she didn't feel like fainting or bursting into flames. She felt like smiling back. Was that love? Or friendship?

The difference between love and friendship, Mia supposed, was sex. Or, at least, wanting to have sex. Did she want to have sex with Ross?

She tried to imagine Ross naked. Or should she imagine herself naked? Herself and Ross, naked together . . .

Her face heated up, but with embarrassment, not fiery passion. More proof that she was a freak.

She squatted down beside the broken spigot, hoping it would be hard to fix. A complicated problem was exactly what she needed right now.

Before she'd even finished taking it apart, she heard men's voices.
Who'd be way out here so late in the afternoon?
she wondered. The field workers had all gone.

“. . . I like a nice quiet walk.”

She didn't recognize the man's voice.

Then Mr. Preston spoke. “No one is out here this time of day.”

Oh, great.

Mia was unsure whether to call out, or to stay still and hope they didn't see her.

The man went on, “I have to say, I never thought to find the wild and dangerous Tom Preston married and settled down.” It was the stranger, the bounty hunter.

Mr. Preston laughed. “If you'd met Valeria first, you'd probably be here too.”

“She would have to be some woman to get me to settle down.”

“She is that. And our kids are the other thing that makes it all worthwhile. My boy is still young, but he's shaping up. Felicité is the image of her mother: a perfect lady, smart, with a will of steel.”

“I did get a glimpse of them. A mighty fine family, Tom, I must say. Mighty fine.”

Mia rolled her eyes as she unscrewed a bolt. Maybe she should make some noise, so she wouldn't have to hear any more of this stupid conversation.

“So,” Mr. Preston said, “you still working for Voske?”

Mia froze.

“This time, yes.”

“Does it bother you?” Mr. Preston asked. “It bothered me a lot.”

“And that's why you're here with your fine family now, protecting this fine town.”

The two men kept moving. Leaving her tools, Mia followed, staying one row of corn over, out of sight. She couldn't believe that Preston knew that the bounty hunter was working for Voske—and didn't seem to care!

“It needs a lot of protection,” Mr. Preston continued. “Bandits, coyote packs, animals mutating all the time, singing trees growing closer every year. Half the traders who come through are either Changed or turn out to be scouts for bandits. When you leave this town, with or without the Juarez boy, will you feel obligated to tell Voske where you found him?”

“No. I get paid for delivery. Not for information. But I'll give you some for free, on account of our old friendship. Six months ago Voske took over Gabrielle Bell's town and put her head on a pike.”

“Well, you won't see me shedding any tears,” Mr. Preston said. “Though it means he's still expanding west.”

“That he is,” agreed the bounty hunter.

There was a silence. Then Mr. Preston spoke. “So—for old times' sake—tell me why we should surrender Ross Juarez to you? I remember how Voske got some of his claims. How do I know he didn't jump the boy's?”

The bounty hunter chuckled. “I suspect you'd be just as happy to see Voske lose, but here's what's important. That Ross Juarez is Changed.”

No way,
Mia thought.
Ross would have told me.

“That's what I keep asking!” Mr. Preston exclaimed. “I'm the only one who seems to care.”

Wouldn't he?

“The Changed here sure won't care. That sheriff of yours scares me. By the way, Voske said the last he'd heard, you were sheriff. What happened?”

Mr. Preston gave a sigh. “Four months ago Elizabeth Crow was one of Rivkah Lowenstein's archers. She was engaged to our saloon keeper. When she got pregnant, she Changed. Lost the baby. Left the infirmary. Walked up to me and challenged me to a duel. Unlike previous challengers—and I've had my share—she won. Nothing more to say.” He paused. “Tell me about Ross Juarez.”

“He has a very interesting, oh,
talent,
I guess you'd call it. He makes people like him. Maybe you've noticed that already.”

“That's it?” Mr. Preston asked.

Mia thought,
He sure knows how to work Mr. Preston.

“Like him, trust him, do whatever he says,” the man went on. “Gabrielle Bell didn't succeed in taking over your town, but this boy might. Turn him over to me, and then he'll be my problem.”

“Won't you start liking him?”

“I don't like anybody,” the bounty hunter said menacingly. Then he laughed. “It takes a while to work. If you haven't had a lot of direct contact with him, he probably hasn't gotten to you yet. And once he's in my custody, he won't be doing any talking.”

Their talk faded as they headed for the gate. The sun was nearly down. Mia ran to retrieve her tools.

The bounty hunter was lying. Wasn't he? There were plenty of people who didn't seem to like Ross—but they hadn't spent much time with him. Mia had. She'd been teased about having crushes before, but it had only been embarrassing, or made her wish she did have a crush. Why was it different with Ross? Did it mean her feelings weren't her own?

When she'd thought he'd leave and get himself killed in the desert, she'd been frantic. Why had she cared that much about a relative stranger? But she would feel that way about anyone in the same situation. Wouldn't she?

This was horrible; not only couldn't she trust Ross, she couldn't trust her own mind.

She had to talk to Jennie.

The bell tolled for the closing of the gates for the night. Mia threw her bag over her shoulder and ran.

She slipped inside the gate behind a few people with baskets of radishes, bolted into her yard—and collided with Ross.

Ross

ROSS RUBBED HIS BRUISED NOSE. MIA'S GLASSES HAD
hit him so hard he was surprised they hadn't broken.

She stared at him as if he were a rattlesnake, then continued backing up until she tripped over an engine. It was so weird that he felt he had to explain his presence. “Your father sent me to find you. Kimchi fried noodles!”

Mia didn't look as excited as that deserved. “I was . . . working.” Without looking behind her, she stepped over the engine and hurried to her front door.

Ross followed. “Do you need some help with something?”

“No. No.” She shook her head a little too fast. “I'm good. I'm good. So . . .”

Why was she acting like he'd attacked her? “I'm sorry I bumped into you.”

“Did I hurt you?” She started to touch his face, then abruptly pulled away and backed inside, where she began picking up and setting down tools at random.

Ross edged in, still rubbing his nose. “Are you okay?”

“Sure! Yes.” Mia glanced down at the hammer in her hand, then carefully laid it on her pillow. “So . . . I guess you've had an easy time making friends. Around here.”

She sounded as fake as a trader who was trying to fob off pyrite as a gold nugget. “What?”

“Well, people always like you. Right?”

“What people? The guy who shot me?”

Mia gave him a sideways look. “Well . . . that was from a distance.”

“What difference does that make?” Ross asked. “And who are all these people who like me? Henry, who wants me to be a claim jumper because he's bored? Mr. Horst? The bounty hunter I warned you about, who's been welcomed into town anyway?”

She seemed to think about that, then let her breath out in a whoosh. “Good point. Sit down. We need to talk.” She kicked the door shut, dropped her tool kit on the bed, then reached for the cooler she kept under her work table. “Want a glass of hibiscus tea? Dad made it.”

Ross ignored the offer. “What's going on? What's this stuff about people liking me?”

Mia finally met his eyes. “Okay, seriously. Are you Changed?”

He'd thought she was the one person who didn't care. “Does it matter? Your father's Changed.”

“I didn't mean it that way! I heard the bounty hunter talking to Mr. Preston. He said you're Changed. He said you make people like you, and I . . .” She fumbled the cooler open and pulled out a stoneware jug. “Are you sure you don't want any? Here.” She poured hibiscus tea into a cup and an ancient glass jar. “See? I wouldn't share a drink with someone I didn't like. I mean, regular liking. Not creepy mind-control liking.” Her hand shook as she held it out. “Right?”

Ross took the jar. He knew he ought to be angry, but instead he wanted to laugh. She'd always been honest with him, as far as he knew, and it seemed wrong to shut her down.

“I'm not Changed.” Once those words were out, it was easier to keep going. “But I don't know how to prove that I don't have creepy mind-control powers. Does it feel like I do?”

When he leaned toward her, she flinched away, almost dropping her cup. Then she leaned in, and peered earnestly over her glasses. Her eyes were wide and brown, and so close he could see himself reflected in them. His palms tingled with the urge to caress her face.

He put down the jar and rubbed his hands on his jeans. If anyone had mind-control powers, it was Mia. When he was close to her, he wanted to touch her so much that he almost had to sit on his hands to stop himself. But then she'd touch him, and he couldn't help flinching.

“I guess not?” she said at last.

“My parents were Changed.” Ross didn't know how to tell this story. He'd never told anyone. But then, he'd never had anyone to tell. “We lived in a town a lot like this, far as I can remember. Then . . .”

The memories came in fragments. His mother waking him up, whispering, “Don't make a sound.” Ash falling like rain as houses burned around them. His father pushing him into his grandmother's arms. Blood on stone . . .

“I don't know what happened. Exactly. But the Changed all had to run. My family split up.” His hands began to tremble, and then his whole body. It was hard to get the words out. “Because of me. I was only four, and I was slowing them down. My grandmother took me. My father went with my mother. She was pregnant. They got killed after we separated. We should've stayed together. If I'd been older, we would have.”

“I'm sorry.” Mia leaned close, absolutely still. “Ross, I am so sorry.”

He couldn't bear to look at that steady gaze. He ran his finger around the rim of the glass jar. “I hate the thought of Norms being nice to me for being one of them when my parents died for being Changed. I'd rather not say what I am.”

Mia picked up a screwdriver and poked at her nails. “There's a Changed town called Catalina, on an island across the bay. About fifteen years ago, a woman from there named Gabrielle Bell came to Las Anclas. Lots of people liked her, and she could mold metal with her hands—so useful! I wish I could do that.”

Ross wouldn't have thought he'd be able to laugh so soon, but Mia's enthusiasm got a chuckle out of him. “Yeah, that's a great power.”

“Then she ran for mayor, and said she'd only put Changed people in the government. She was going to ban Norms from the council, even though this town is two-thirds Norm. She said the world was evolving superior humans, and the Changed needed to lead the way to a better world.”

“I've heard that kind of talk before,” he muttered. “Though not as much as I've heard ‘monster' and ‘mutant.' Can't say that I like it any better.”

Mia nodded. “Me neither. Anyway, Mayor Wolfe ran for office for the first time, saying that she'd treat all people equally—but she was married to Mr. Preston, so not everyone believed her. Dad says it got really ugly, on both sides. You can see who won the election. Gabrielle Bell left, and a handful of Changed went with her. Some of the other Changed were so disgusted with her
and
the Norms that they moved to Catalina.”

It was a sad story, but all Ross could think was,
At least no one hunted down the Changed people who'd tried to leave. Like my family.
He cleared his throat. “And now no new Changed are welcome, huh?”

“Not by Mr. Preston.” Mia looked uncomfortable. “When I was about ten, we had a terrible drought. But Catalina got hit worse. A boatful of Changed people came to Las Anclas and asked for help. Some of them used to live here. They went to the Rileys' house first—Jennie and I were having a sleepover that night. Mr. Preston showed up with the Rangers and told them get back in their boats. He said they'd made their bed and they could lie in it. Mrs. Riley was crying. It was awful. And no one from Catalina has come here since. They used to visit a couple times a year and put on plays and concerts. We all looked forward to it so much. Now we'll never see them again.”

Mia fiddled with the screwdriver. Ross suspected that the real question was coming. Her expression was half worried, half hopeful. “How about the rest of the stuff that man said? He said you jumped a claim. Was that another lie?”

“Yes.” That was easier to talk about. He took a sip of tart hibiscus tea. A few shreds of the flowers floated in the purple liquid. “Well, in a way. Voske's guys jumped
my
claim, so I jumped it back. All I managed to grab was the book, but it was probably the most valuable thing there. I guess Voske thinks so too.”

“So the bounty hunter's really after the book, not you?”

“He's after both. Voske wants to prove that nobody crosses him and gets away with it. Voske's lieutenant told me that anyone who steals from him gets his head cut off and stuck on a pole. He wasn't kidding. I saw them on the city gates.”

Mia grimaced. “I think we'd better talk to my father. Is that okay?”

He fingered the jar. Weird, how ready he was to say yes. It
was
as if Mia was mind-controlling him. He tried to think of reasons to say no, but all he could come up with was habit. “Okay,” he finally said.

As they crossed the road, an object came whistling through the air. Ross tackled Mia to the ground, shielding her body with his own. He grabbed for his knives, and found only empty belt loops. But he could throw back the knife that had been thrown at him . . .

A small rock rolled along the road. It wouldn't have done more than bruise him.

“Ross?” Mia squeaked.

He scrambled off her. “Sorry. Someone threw a rock at me.” She stared at him. Feeling like a fool, he muttered, “I thought it was a knife.”

Mia glanced around wildly, though whoever had thrown the rock had to be long gone by now. “Was it the bounty hunter?”

Though his heart was still pounding wildly, he almost laughed. “No. Some of the boys have been doing stuff like that. Throwing rocks when I collect the oil. Giving me practice crossbows with damaged strings so they snap in my face—”

“Who?” she demanded, outraged.

Ross shrugged. “I don't know all their names yet.” It was mostly true, and he didn't want her trying to fight his battles. That Tommy Horst was twice her size. One-on-one, Ross could take care of himself—he just had to make sure a gang of them never caught him alone. “Forget about it, okay? Let's go talk to your father.”

In the kitchen, Mia locked the door and shuttered the windows. Her father paused in the act of dishing out the kimchi fried noodles. “Do my noodles smell so bad you have to protect the neighbors?”

“No!” Ross said. “They smell great.”

Mia laughed. “It was a joke, Ross.”

He didn't want to say that he never joked about food. Especially when it smelled as good as Dr. Lee's noodles. They both took plates and began to eat.

“Dad, we need to talk to you. Ross—”

Ross hastily tried to swallow.

She flicked her fork in his direction. “I'll tell him my part first. You go ahead and eat.”

He was halfway through a plate of noodles when she casually repeated Tom Preston's remark about having worked for Voske. He almost spat out a cabbage leaf. “What?”

“It's common knowledge,” said Dr. Lee, and Mia nodded. “It's just not talked about much. About eighteen years ago, Voske sent Tom Preston to Las Anclas as a spy, in preparation for a takeover. He lived here for a month, and at the end he went back, told Voske all the wrong things, and then warned us. He brought two of his friends—Sera and Omar—who'd been Voske's bodyguards too. When Voske attacked, the three of them fought on our side.” At Ross's incredulous look, he added, “It
has
been eighteen years. It's old history.”

“So about the book . . .” Mia began.

“What's in it?” Dr. Lee asked. “I see why it's valuable in general, but why does Voske need it?”

Ross pushed aside his empty plate. “People say a couple years ago, one of his prospectors found an artifact that lets Voske know everything that happens in his town, and even other places.”

Dr. Lee nodded. “Yes, we've heard that.”

“They say that's how he's been able to take over all those other towns. He knows their weaknesses. Maybe it's true. When I found my claim, there was no sign of anyone else. I didn't blast my way in, or even build a fire. But Voske's people were there the day after I made my first find. How did they know?”

“Good question.”

“People say he even knows what's said in closed rooms.” Ross glanced at the adobe walls and timbered ceiling. He lowered his voice. “If he wants my book that much, it might have something in it that's just as useful to him.”

“But what is in it?” Dr. Lee repeated.

“Weapons!” Mia cut in excitedly. “There aren't many drawings, and the writing's in Japanese, but it has schematics for weapons we can build ourselves. And you know how hard it is to make gunpowder, Dad—this is a manual for weapons that don't need it.”

“Imagine what Voske would do with that,” Ross said grimly.

“This is quite interesting. And also dismaying,” Dr. Lee said. “I'm glad you two filled me in. There would definitely be people here who'd keep the book and throw out both you and the bounty hunter. Especially since it's impossible to disprove a mind-control accusation. A lot of folk will be only too ready to believe that you can force people to like you.”

Ross laughed, but not happily. “I wish!”

“So where is this book?” asked Dr. Lee.

“Hidden,” Mia assured him. “Once the bounty hunter showed up, I designed a special hiding place. If he wants to steal it, he'll need hours and hours of searching. And a welding torch.”

Ross frowned. “I wouldn't put it past him. I should move it. I'm sure he's seen me go in your cottage.”

“It would be quite difficult for him to get in without being seen,” said Dr. Lee.

“He's not just a thief. He's a killer.” Ross rubbed the scar on his side, sick with the idea of bringing danger to the Lees. “Maybe I should take the book and go.”

“You have to stay!” Mia exclaimed. “We're having a dance for you! I already started airing out my mother's pink dress.”

Ross had no idea how to respond. Luckily, her father rescued him.

Dr. Lee smiled at Mia. “I think she'd like that. Ross, there's no point in leaving now. The bounty hunter will catch you outside of town, and then the book will go straight to Voske. Let me handle this. Mia, I'll have to tell Tom Preston you were eavesdropping.”

“Go ahead. It wasn't like I meant to,” she said. “But when they started talking about Ross that way—well, too bad for them.”

Dr. Lee's smile turned grim. “I imagine the rest of the council will be interested to hear that Defense Chief Preston—formerly employed by Voske—recognized a current hireling and let him into town without telling us. The bounty hunter will be gone by morning. You can rest easy, Ross.