The Breeders Part 12

I nod.

He takes a deep breath and steels himself. "Last month my pa made me take a twelve-year-old boy to the Riders. The kid ..." His jaw tightens. "The kid wet himself when I carried him to their truck." He looks into my face, his eyes s.h.i.+ning with unshed tears. "He cried my name as they drove away."

"Kody," I whisper.

Clay sniffs and stares into the dancing blue and orange flames of the fire, the veins tight cords on his neck. "I'll see his face forever. Knowing what I did to him ..." He curses and tugs at his hair angrily. Then he lifts his sorrowful face to me. "That day I swore I'd never trade another human being. That I'd get out."

I pull my knees up to my chest and think about Clay handing over the boy to the Riders. It's awful. Then again, if my dad was the Sheriff, would I have done any different? Having Arn's death on my hands is bad enough, but I didn't actually kill him. What must it be like for Clay to carry that kind of guilt around?

The raw emotion hangs over the fire like a cloud. For several moments we sit in silence as the fire dies down. The hog legs emit a delicious aroma, but right now I don't feel like eating.

Finally, Clay walks forward as if unstuck. Some of the wildness has fallen off him. "We need to eat," he says handing me my portion of meat.

I take it from him. My stomach grumbles at the smell. Maybe I can eat.

Clay kicks dirt over the fire until it sizzles. "Come on. We'll eat in the Jeep."

We slide into the Jeep, Clay in the driver's side, me in the pa.s.senger seat. Normally, I'd fuss. It's my Jeep. But, surprisingly, I don't mind. Maybe I'm starting to trust Clay. Maybe I'm grateful he's rescued us again. Either way, I'm looking over at Clay and smiling as he's carefully holding the hot meat with the pads of his fingers. I shouldn't trust this much. I'm worth enough for even a good man to lose his scruples. I pull the zipper on my coat all the way up to my throat.

I check on Ethan. He's tucked into the back of the Jeep, the blanket I curled around him still in the exact position I placed it. He better wake up tomorrow or we have real problems.

I'm thinking about Ethan when Clay's voice cuts through my thoughts. "Your turn."

"Huh?"

"You didn't think that back story was free, did ya?" He's smiling for the first time in a while. "Your turn to answer my questions." He takes a bite of his hog leg, the grease s.h.i.+ning on his lips and chin.

I concentrate on not burning my fingers on my own leg, unable to meet his gaze.

"Let's see," he says. "Where to start? How about explaining your aunt to me. She seems ... interesting."

"Auntie's wonderful," I say, a bit indignant. Then I think of her bas.h.i.+ng the cupboard to capture the bat. "She's a bit off, but she loves us. She makes fantastic cornbread." I take a bite of the leg and the savory roasted meat fills my mouth. I don't realize I'm smiling until I wipe the corners of my mouth on the sleeve of my jacket. How long has it been since I've smiled like this?

"How'd you keep your ma a secret for so long?" Clay eyes trace a falling star streaking across the dark blue sky.

The smile drops from my face. This question is not one I want to answer. It touches too close to my secret.

"Oh, you know, traveling around a lot." My next bite is huge, filling my mouth.

"Had to be more than that," Clay says, watching me. "Breeders have spies everywhere. Had to be hard to keep her hid."

I turn my eyes to the stars and note the constellation Andromeda. My mother called her the chained lady. Where is my mother tonight?

"We did everything we could to keep her free. In the end it wasn't enough, was it?" Now it's my turn to slip my eyes away, the emotion welling up, choking me.

Clay's eyes linger somewhere in the stars. "I lost my ma, too."

"What happened to her?" I ask, s.h.i.+fting to face him.

He sighs, still looking up. "I was too young to remember, but my pa said the Breeders just came for her one day. Said if he didn't give her up, they'd kill the whole town. Guess they pack a lot of firepower, weapons we ain't even seen. So," he blows out his breath, "he gave her up. My pa don't get emotional, but sometimes I see him lookin' out and I know he's thinking about her, the only woman he ever cared about."

I nod and let the silence hang around us. We sit and look out at the stars and think of our mothers. Could they be together? The thought gives me a little comfort.

Clay turns to me, his face set in rea.s.surance. "We'll get to your ma." His voice is so kind.

I nod. "Yours, too." There it is again, that warm feeling that floods me when he gives me that look-eyes sparkling, smile comforting. A burn runs up my cheeks.

I miss the first words Clay says as my thoughts spin. "Huh?"

"I said, what's it like being a bender?"

I scan Clay's face for malice, but he's just curious. I'm curious about benders, too, never having met one. I swallow hard. "People don't look at you the same. It's pretty ... lonely."

Clay finishes his hog leg. He chucks the bone off in the distance. He scoots down in the driver seat, a revolver over his lap and stares sleepy-eyed over the moonlit landscape. "Good talk, but I'm tuckered. Can you take the first s.h.i.+ft?"

He falls asleep within seconds, his hat down over his face, his revolvers hugged tight to his chest.

I let my eyes wander to the crescent moon hung in the sprinkle of stars. Alone with my thoughts again. I expect that they'll turn to Mom or Auntie, but they keep turning to Clay. The way his mouth turns up in his sleep. The moonlight in his brown hair. Before I know it, I'm watching the rise and fall of his chest. I turn my eyes to the road and try desperately not to think of the boy murmuring softly beside me.

Chapter Thirteen.

I wake to a strange sweet smell, distant and musky. I nuzzle closer, my cheek rubbing against the warmth. It smells like home.

My eyes flicker open. My face rests on the soft suede of a worn leather jacket. It rises and falls rhythmically. My eyes fly wide open. My cheek rests on Clay's chest, my body pressed to his across the Jeep seat.

I snap upright, the panic skidding through me. What've I done? I was supposed to keep watch, not cuddle. My jerking wakes him and he blinks at me.

"Mornin'," he mumbles. He rolls over and goes back to gently snoring.

He doesn't know. Relief floods me as I slump back in my seat. I must've just fallen asleep and snuggled into him for warmth. Yeah, right, warmth.

With my heart pounding, there's no way I'll fall back to sleep. Looking back, I find Ethan in the same spot. I slip my hand under his nose and feel the soft puffs of breath against the pads of my fingers. Satisfied, my eyes travel over the first lights of dawn stretching out over the rocky landscape. I slide out of the Jeep and take off toward the pink horizon. I hike over the dusty ridges, trying to shake off my unease. I spot a large clump of cactus that will give enough cover as I empty my bladder. Up ahead a roadrunner skitters across the sand, his legs pumping into a blur as he darts over the hard pan. A lizard bolts under a rock as I approach. Dawn is a busy time in the desert. I need to be careful.

I drop my pants and duck down behind the bush. I try to keep my mind on the sounds of the desert, but it keeps turning elsewhere. Mostly back to the Jeep. My brother is still knocked out, and if Bennett weren't already dead, I'd think about killing him. What if Ethan doesn't wake up? I know Clay cares about Ethan, but what lengths would he go to save his life?

Then there's Clay. G.o.d-Clay. I've developed a pretty severe crush on him. It's impossible not to. He's handsome, talented, kind and smart. The reasons not to like him are weighty, but I find myself coming up with excuses for his past. After all, he can't help how he was raised.

The real reason you shouldn't like him, the voice inside pipes up, is he thinks you're a bender. That if you told him you were a girl, he'd turn you in faster than you can say "horrible scientific experiments."

I want to tell myself to shut up, that he's not the type, but I can't. I'm worth a lifetime's salary. Even if he doesn't turn me in and actually wants to be with me, he'd have to devote the rest of his life to protecting me from, well, every other person in the world. It's a lot to ask.

I'm still contemplating all this when Clay calls my name. I snap upright and almost pee on my boots. I pull my pants around my waist and spin around, hoping Clay hasn't seen.

He's running to me at a full clip. My heart pounds again. Why is he sprinting? I run. "What?" I say, breathless. "What is it?"

A smile breaks over his face. Out of breath, he points to the Jeep. "Ethan. He's awake."

We run to the Jeep. In the b.u.t.te's long shadow, the Jeep looks miniature and my brother looks even smaller in the pa.s.senger seat. When I scramble to the door, his face breaks into a huge smile. "Riley," he says, groggily. He wraps his arms around my neck.

My hands shake as I clutch him to my chest. "Don't ever scare me like that again," I whisper into this shoulder.

When I let him go, his eyes slide from me to Clay. The delight on his face rivals what he had for me. I'll have to take it. If I'm falling for Clay, I can't deny Ethan his big brother.

"Thanks, Clay." He turns to me. "He got you for me. I was worried you were gone."

"I told you I'd never leave. Are you okay? Hungry? We need to get you something to eat." I sound like my mother. I dig in the back for some food.

He holds up a hunk of bread. "Clay got it for me."

"Oh." I pull out a jug of water from the pack and hold it up. "How about some water?"

Ethan lifts the water jug sitting next to him with the other hand.

I keep smiling, but something's s.h.i.+fted inside of me. I turn away from the boys and busy myself with folding the blanket. It keeps me from snapping at Clay who's only trying to help. Maybe that's one thing not to like about Clay-he's too efficient. But if someone doesn't give me something to do soon, I'll go crazy.

By mid-afternoon, I wish I'd never longed for something to do. Clay's driving when the car slows. At first I think he's spotted road trash, but no. He glances at the fuel gauge, then back at me. "We're out of gas."

"Pull over and we'll fill it with the reserve can in the back." I glance back at Ethan who's busy counting abandoned cars. "How many so far?"

"Thirteen. Why are we stopping?" His bright eyes follow mine.

"Just out of gas," I say. "We have more."

"We do?" he asks.

"Yep."

"More than what was in here?" He holds up our reserve gas jug. He turns the red plastic jug toward me. It's empty. The large bullet hole at the bottom right corner took care of our gas. It must've been hit in the shooting. We're screwed. I look back to Clay.

"No gas?" he asks.

"No gas." Panic bells ring in my head. Stranded on the side of the road is bad. Not getting to my mama on time is worse.

Clay glides us to a stop and turns off the Jeep. For a moment we all sit on the side of the road without speaking. Ethan's the first to break the silence.

"What'll we do now, Clay?" he asks.

I'm already worked up about running out of gas and now he's asking Clay, not me, what to do. I can't take it anymore. I swear and I punch the Jeep's dash. All it accomplishes is a loud thud and some throbbing knuckles.

"Hey, relax," Clay says to me.

I want to tell him where he can shove his advice, but he's already turned to Ethan, giving him that rea.s.suring smile. "Listen, bud, we're fine. There's a town about ten miles up. We'll just hike on up and crash in some beds for the night. In the morning, I'll catch a ride back and gas up the Jeep. Easy peasy j.a.panesey."

Yeah, right. Easy? He doesn't mention to my brother that three kids on the side of the road are open to any number of hazards-coyotes, snakes and road gangs to name a few. He doesn't mention that we're walking on desert blacktop in the heat of the day. That ten miles will feel like a hundred in this weather. Nope. He just keeps smiling at my little brother.

I don't smile. I concentrate on the throbbing in my knuckles and try not to hit anything else.

We throw the most important supplies in our packs. Water, of course. Then food. Then Clay packs bullets, antiseptic, the amber bottles with little white pills he brought to trade for gasoline and shelter for the night. He slings his rifle over his back. He hesitates for a moment and then hands me Bennett's father's rifle.

"Just don't shoot me in the back," he says with a crooked smile. He slips on his pack and helps Ethan with the lightest one. "Okay, bud, let's go. Bet we see some lizards if we keep our eyes pealed. First one to spot a scaly b.u.g.g.e.rs gets this." He holds up a red and white peppermint wrapped in plastic for Ethan to see.

Ethan's eyes grow big. "I'm good at spotting lizards. Aren't I, Ri?"

"Yep, the best," I say, as I pull on my pack. I can't manage the enthusiasm he's looking for, but he doesn't seem to notice. He's beaming up at Clay. "Let's go. Sooner we start, the better."

We walk. The land here is flat, with dirt and scraggly cactus and bushes in either direction. The sun sears the top of my head and heat rolls in waves off the pavement's black surface. This must be what it's like inside a furnace. Even with several water breaks in the shade of some tall cactus, I'm dying. My leather jacket traps so much heat I'm sure to pa.s.s out. My b.r.e.a.s.t.s are still bound and my long-sleeved cotton s.h.i.+rt would mostly cover me to pa.s.sersby. Yet, anyone up close might get suspicious. I glance at Clay and then, finally, shrug off Arn's jacket. It's too bulky to fit in our bulging packs. I smell the collar once for his scent. An image of him standing at the kitchen window, his hands in the pockets of his overalls floods me until I'm nearly choking with it. Arn. I fold his jacket and set it on a rock. When I leave it, I feel like I'm burying him all over again.

Clay and Ethan wait for me to catch up. Clay gives me a nod. "I know your pa's jacket meant a lot to ya, but it'll kill ya out here."

I glance back at it once more. It's just a brown lump in the distance now. I could run, pick it up, carry it until I collapse. "I shouldn't just leave it," I say more to myself than to Clay.

Clay looks back. "I'll snag it when I come back for the Jeep."

The grumpiness from the past dissolves. I offer him a look of grat.i.tude. Good, solid Clay. I'd hug him if I weren't worried he'd feel my secret through my s.h.i.+rt.

Ethan and Clay spend the hours spotting lizards or pointing out vultures circling in the sky. Clay gives him a few lessons on the local flora and fauna. He teaches Ethan how to get the fruit from a p.r.i.c.kly pear. I keep my eyes on the strip of highway beside us. Any dust cloud and we're running for cover.

After an hour of trekking through the heat of the day, Ethan's asthma kicks in. I try to carry him, but he waves me away, wheezing slightly with his purple lips. At the two-hour mark, he tumbles into the sand. I run up to him and roll him over. The fine sand crystals dot his flushed face. His cheeks blaze bright red on his pale face.

"Ethan, you alright?" I gasp.

He blinks at me. "I feel dizzy." He struggles to sit up.

I put a hand on his chest. "You need to drink. Just hold on." I pull his head onto my knees and use my body to shade his face. I hand him the water jug.

"Sip slowly," I say when he takes it.

Ethan drinks and rests for a moment. Then he sees Clay blocking out more of the sun.

"Sorry, Clay," he says, still wheezing.

"No problem, hoss. One time when I was your age, I got sunstroke, blacked out and p.i.s.sed my pants. Try explaining that to your pa."

Ethan smiles, but at the mention of his dad, his face falls. He looks up at me. "I wish we were home, Riley," he whispers.

"I know." The emotion chokes in my throat. I push the sticky hair out of his eyes. He would normally bat my hand away if I did this in front of Clay, but not this time.

I lift his pack and mine. It'll be a struggle and my boots have already worn blisters on both big toes and the left heel. I smile at my brother. "Come on," I say. "I bet in town they might have caramels. If you're good, I'll get you one."