head curiously. Distracted from trying to eat the poor thrashing Remus, it sidled over, sniffing at Stanton. Sharp yellow teeth gleamed as it curled back matted-fur lips. It snapped at Stanton. Stanton jumped back, boot heel sliding in the mud.
Then, with an astonishingly quick movement, Stanton brought the blade up and drove it toward one of the monster’s burning red eyes.
It was an elegant attack. Which made it even more of a shame when the monster swept Stanton aside like a cat playing with a ball of string. Stanton sprawled into a nearby bramble of blackberries. He did not move for an agonizing moment, but then he stirred, pulling himself up onto his hands and knees. The telescoping blade was still in his hands, but the demon raccoon was shambling toward him quickly, making its terrible chuckling noises, sniffing and licking its greasy chops.
Fire surged in Emily’s gut. With a high, full-throated whoop, she slammed her heels into Romulus’ side. The horse surged forward. Screaming at the top of her lungs, waving the hand she wasn’t using to hold onto the pommel, she rode straight at the demon raccoon. Instinctively, the monster lumbered back with a squeal and a hiss.
In the confusion, Emily didn’t see Stanton get up, but a moment later he was by Remus, using his blade to slash the reins free. He swung himself up into the saddle and wheeled his horse alongside Emily’s. His face was pale under the thick globs of mud and dirt, and there were ugly welting scratches across his throat from where the brambles had torn into his flesh.
“I guess you were right about the running,” Stanton breathed, reaching over to give Romulus a smart slap on the haunches. “Romulus, Remus … race!”
The horses sprang like bullets from a gun. But Emily could feel the enraged beast behind them, the irregular thump-thump, thump-thump of its huge strides, the crashing sound of tearing undergrowth.
“We’ll never make it,” she said under her breath. She glanced to her left, where Stanton rode almost at her side; his hands, desperately clutching the horse’s mane, were white with tension.
And then there was the sound of screaming. Not their own screaming, as Emily had supposed she’d hear next, but echoing whoops and ringing staccato cries.
The sound of dozens of rifle shots rang through the air.
All at once, Emily could feel the monster falling away. There was a grunting roar from the beast, then a series of little chitters, and then silence.
Emily would have been more than happy to keep running without looking back, but Stanton pulled up and vanished from her side. She kept riding for a moment, but Romulus didn’t want to leave Remus behind, so he slowed to a balky trot, tossing his head backward.
Grudgingly, Emily let the horse turn.
The monster lay on its back, dead, black claws curled against its chest. There were Indians all around, some in fringed buckskin trousers, some in flannels and denim. All held rifles. And Stanton was trotting toward them, one hand raised.
Out of the frying pan, into the fire! Emily thought furiously. Avoid getting eaten just to get yourself scalped?
But the Indians were utterly nonplussed by Stanton’s arrival. Stanton rode into their midst and slid down from the saddle, laying a hand on his horse’s lathered neck. He stood with the men, exchanging a few words, looking over the enormous dead raccoon.
She rode forward slowly until she was in earshot of Stanton.
“You know these … men?” she called from a safe distance.
Stanton looked up at her, as placidly as if he and the Indians were just looking over a curiously formed tree root.
“They were just trying to understand why, while I was trying to save one horse, you were doing your best to kill the other.”
“I was trying to keep the beast from sinking its huge teeth into your pompous backside!” Emily snapped. “It works with bears. Usually.”
“An Aberrancy is not a bear,” Stanton said. “But, shrill and foolhardy as it was, you certainly did provide a distraction. Thank you.”
“That’s the first time you’ve ever thanked me for anything,” Emily said. Her heart was still pounding, and it made her feel awfully cross. “And if you only thank me when I save your life, I guess it’ll be the last.”
“These men are of the Miwok tribe,” Stanton said, ignoring the barb and gesturing to the umber-hued men who gaped at her, open mouthed.
“What are they staring at?” Emily growled, gathering her buffalo coat around herself tightly. “I’m sure they’ve