as I discovered, Sunday turns around the park aren’t quite the thing,” Stanton said. “Now, see that steep place in the trail up ahead? Lean forward in the saddle; don’t just slump like a sack of flour.”
Once the steep place had been successfully negotiated, Emily sat back in the saddle and looked at Stanton thoughtfully.
“How did you end up in Lost Pine, anyhow?” Emily asked. “I mean, it couldn’t have been by choice.”
To his credit, Stanton bit back his immediate response, which Emily supposed was something along the lines of “Good Lord, no!” Instead, he said something that sounded like a memorized recitation:
“As the holder of a Jefferson Chair, it was my duty to accept a placement wherever the Institute deemed fit.”
“A Jefferson Chair? What’s that?”
“It’s a system of regional positions endowed by a gentleman named Harmon Jefferson. There are more than two dozen chair holders throughout the United States and Europe.”
Emily hmmed thoughtfully. “So where’s yours?”
“My what?”
“Your chair. Where do you keep it? You don’t have to drag it around, do you? Sounds awful inconvenient.”
The thought of this amused Stanton vastly, or at least she supposed it did; he gave a small, dry chuckle.
“No, the chair itself is pure abstraction.” He held up a hand. On his finger there was a gold ring with a crest on it. “This is the only physical representation of the office.”
“And you fellows do what, exactly? Annoy small-town charm makers who just want to be left alone?”
“We research local magical customs and anomalies and bring modern practices to the rural and unenlightened.”
“Six of one, half a dozen of the other,” Emily said. “And in Lost Pine, the rural and unenlightened were me and Pap. What a waste of all your talent! Why would your institute send you someplace so small?”
“I have no doubt Professor Mirabilis sent me where he thought my talents would be best utilized,” Stanton said.
“Professor Mirabilis. Of the Mirabilis Institute?”
“The same,” Stanton said. And then, as if to protect the idea of the professor from disrespect, he added seriously, “A very fine man.”
Emily would have said something more, but at that moment Romulus stumbled and her heart lodged behind her windpipe and pounded there for some moments.
“Are we really going to ride all the way to San Francisco? You said your institute had plenty of money—why don’t we take the train from Dutch Flat? It would be quicker and a whole lot more comfortable.”
Stanton waved a hand as if the idea didn’t even bear considering. “Where I go, my horses go. They’re the most valuable things I own.”
“Seems like they own you, more like,” Emily grumbled. “Look, there are at least a dozen stables in Dutch Flat that would take good care of your horses. We could be to San Francisco and back in a few days instead of a couple of weeks. And your horses would be spared the trip.”
“All excellent points. But they don’t take into account one fact. I don’t want to have to come back to get my horses because I don’t intend to return.”
The curt proclamation caught Emily off guard, but of course, it made perfect sense—Stanton would never be welcome again in Lost Pine, even if Emily was successful in returning to remove the love spell from Dag. And, she thought with a sinking heart, even if she could remove the sorcellement, what promise was there that she would ever be welcome again either? She shook the thoughts from her head.
“Won’t your institute be upset with you for getting run out of town?”
“It was hardly my fault that I was run out of town,” Stanton reminded her. “And anyway, Lost Pine does not need a Jefferson Chair. You and Pap don’t need or want any help. The Institute must find me a placement that is more suitable, or else …”
He fell silent. Emily waited for the other shoe to drop.
“Or else?” she prompted.
“Or else I quit. I’ll put my horses on a steamer at San Francisco and go home to New York.”
Emily was taken aback by the vehemence of feeling behind the Warlock’s words. She raised an eyebrow.
“You can’t just give up,” Emily said.
“Ah, the spirit of the great American pioneer,” he said, in a tone that suggested said spirit was vastly overrated. “Well, it is similarly my right as an American to give up whenever I please.”
“You’d give up being a Warlock?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ve invested far too much in the development of my talents. But there are always opportunities for trained Warlocks.