Part 7 (1/2)

Clay. I turn the k.n.o.b and yank the door open. He stands on the porch in his clean cowboy best-short-sleeve b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt, jeans, boots and his hat. In his left hand he holds a basket of apples, rolls and wrapped bacon. In his right hand is a bar of antiseptic soap. He lifts a dimpled rea.s.suring smile.

I raise the poker as if to strike.

”Jesus!” He jumps back. ”What's a fella gotta do to prove he's worth havin'?”

As I'm brandis.h.i.+ng the poker, Ethan slides up behind me.

”Are you Clay?” His smile is wide and inviting.

”He was just leaving,” I say through clenched teeth.

”Oh.” Ethan's face falls. He pulls his wounded arm up and clutches it to him. The wound looks awful. The skin around the bite is puffy and oozing. The iodine is long gone.

I look at Ethan's arm and then at Clay, who's eying the poker, waiting for me to strike. I have no choice. The poker thuds heavily against my thigh as I bring it down.

”Come in,” I say, stiffly. ”Can we get you some breakfast?”

Clay scans my expression and then takes a tentative step forward. ”Sure,” he says. ”Just put away the brainin' stick, will ya?”

I hand him the metal rod. ”Take it. I'll start the stove.”

Ethan leads Clay to the table and begins peppering him with questions as I try to figure out what the h.e.l.l I'm doing. Mechanically, I open the stove, toss in the kindling and dig around for a match. When the flame ignites, the yellow-red tongues eat up the starter twigs until they are crumbled black husks of their former selves. Then there's nothing left to do but make breakfast for my enemy.

Chapter Eight.

I sit across from Clay as he eats bacon off my mother's blue china plate. The three of us ignore the bullet holes shot into the table. Clay is telling some story to my little brother, who laughs and then chomps a rippled slice of bacon between his teeth.

I can't laugh. I don't even know what he's saying. I pretend to eat and watch the words form in his mouth, but all I think about is Clay sitting in Arn's chair. It makes me want to go find that stove poker again.

”Riley, did you hear that?”

”Huh?”

”Did you hear what Clay said? He said Mama and Auntie are still in town. He can take us to see them if we want.” Joy dances across Ethan's face.

I stop eating and stare up at Clay. ”Can I have a word with you outside?”

Clay gives a wary smile and drops his napkin on the table. ”Sure.”

I lead him out onto the porch and shut the door tight. On the porch the air is searing, a perfect match for how I'm feeling inside. Clay clomps out, leans his hip against the rickety porch railing and offers me his smile again.

”I mean it, you know. I can take y'all into town. We'll have to be caref-”

”You can get the h.e.l.l out of here right now,” I say, trembling. I point to his motorcycle. ”Just go. I had enough of your lies.”

”I'm not lying. Your ma's in town. Won't be for long, so if you want to see 'em, we need to shake tail.”

I clutch my hands together until my knuckles are white. ”It's just another trick. Another way to get us into town so you can finish what you started.”

Frustration deepens the lines between his eyes. He shakes his head slowly back and forth. ”You're really irritating, you know that?”

I stare at him with my jaw dropped. ”Me?”

”Yeah, you.” He grips the porch rail and it rocks under his weight. ”What do I have to do to prove I'm sorry? I saved y'all during the raid, I brought you food, medicine. What do I have to do?” He flaps his arms in frustration.

I cross my arms over my thrumming heart. ”You can start by bringing my stepfather back to life.”

He winces and drops his head. ”Wish I could.” He grips the porch railing and stares sadly off toward the barn. ”I didn't want anyone to get hurt. When they told me we were going on a raid, I had no idea we were coming here.” He points to my bullet-riddled house. ”Then I saw you and your brother in the yard. I locked you in to keep you safe. By the time I got back, your pa was toe up. Nothing I could do.” Clay lifts his sorrowful eyes from the dirt to meet mine.

”Do you think feeling bad is enough? You were a part of this whether you shot him or not.”

He digs the toe of his boot along a crack in the porch floorboards. ”That's why I'm trying to make amends. I may be Sheriff's number two, but I don't like his politics. I don't mind rustling criminals, but I can't abide this. Taking you to see your ma is the only decent thing I can think of to make up for what I did.”

I dig deep for more fury, but the wellspring runs dry.

Then it dawns on me. If Clay's not our enemy, he might be useful. A plan hatches. I look down the road toward town. ”You said you want to help us, right?”

Clay stands straighter, thumbs in his belt loops. ”Yeah.”

”Good.” My mind's still reeling. I take a few steps across the porch, swivel on my heel and face Clay again. ”Where they keeping my family?”

Clay's eyes widen and he shakes his head. ”Now hold those flyin' horses of your'n. There's one thing you gotta understand.”

”No,” I say curtly. ”There's one thing you gotta understand. I'm getting my mama and auntie out of there 'fore the Breeders come. I don't care what I got to do. I'm not letting those monsters take 'em.”

Clay rubs a hand over his head, mussing short brown hair. ”Sorry, chief, but Breeders are coming tomorrow. And don't n.o.body get in their way.”

I stare out over the dusty landscape of our yard until my eyes light on my mother's garden. ”Then we go today.”

He shakes his head. ”Now wait a minute-”

I point my finger at his chest. ”You want to make up for what you did? You helped lock 'em up. You get 'em free.”

He screws up his mouth and begins worrying the chipped paint on the porch rail. ”I'd be strung up or kicked out with nothin'.”

I shrug and wave my hand at the desolation that used to be our family farm.

Clay rubs his smooth palms over his face. ”Ah, G.o.d. This is crazy. You understand what you're asking me to do?”

I nod.

Clay blows out his breath. ”Fine. I'll help you bust 'em out, but Sheriff can't know I had a hand in it.”

For the first time, I let a smile slink up my face. ”Deal.”