The Native Star - By M. K. Hobson Page 0,69

…”

Stanton snorted. “He’s lying. I have no doubt he’s excellent at it.”

“Caul says she’s just an innocent victim. He says you’re the only one who’s in trouble.” Dag’s voice lowered a dangerous octave. “‘Seducement to treason,’ he called it …”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Stanton barked. “Caul will say anything to get his hands on the stone!”

“And I guess you’ll do anything to keep your hands on it!” Dag seized a handful of Stanton’s shirt, giving him a bone-rattling shake. “Why the hell should I take your word over his? He’s a sworn lawman, and you’re just some shifty, stuck-up, no-account traveling Warlock!”

Stanton sighed through clenched teeth, raising his hands in a placating gesture. When he spoke again, his words were slow and careful, with a note of assumed patience that wasn’t at all successful.

“Mr. Hansen, I know how you feel about her. You want her to be safe. But I swear to you, Caul means her harm. And you can’t protect her against him.”

“Yeah, not like the bang-up job you did protecting her against the Witch burners in New Bethel,” Dag sneered, releasing Stanton’s shirt and shoving him backward. “’Case you already forgot, Warlock, she was the one had to rescue you.”

Emily saw Stanton’s face disarrange briefly, and then, just as quickly, set with steely composure.

“That was a mistake,” he said.

“You only get one.”

“Dag … Mr. Stanton …” Emily said. “Stop it.”

When Dag saw that she was sitting up, his face softened with concern and he hurried to her side.

“Emily,” he murmured. “You shouldn’t be up. You’re hurt!”

She smiled sadly at the worry in his face.

“I’ll be all right,” she said.

“Good,” Stanton said, straightening the front of his shirt angrily. “Then perhaps you can explain things to Mr. Hansen in language simple enough for him to understand.”

The derisive sneer in his voice made her blood boil. He was a veritable prodigy at finding new ways to be insufferable! She bared her teeth at him.

“You!” she barked. “Why didn’t you use magic against them?”

Answering anger kindled in Stanton’s face.

“Maybe you didn’t notice, but I did try to use magic against them—”

“Then why didn’t it work? They would … they would have burned you!”

“And they would have burned you, too.” Stanton’s voice dropped. “Your lumberman has already been good enough to remind me of that fact.” Throwing up a hand, he stalked off in the direction of his horses.

Emily sunk back into the hay, feeling suddenly very tired. The horses at the front of the buckboard whuffled and shifted. Dag stared after Stanton, frowning.

“I wouldn’t mind giving him another black eye, if you’d like.”

“I don’t think so,” she said. “This isn’t his fault.”

“Then whose fault is it?” Dag shook his head. “What’s happened to you, Emily? What have you got yourself mixed up with?”

“I don’t know, Dag.” Emily exhaled the words. “But Mr. Stanton is right. I can’t go back to Lost Pine. That’s why we were trying to sell his horses in New Bethel … to get money for railroad tickets. We have to get to New York.”

“New York?” Dag said it as if she’d revealed they were planning a trip to the moon.

“We have to go, Dag.”

“Why?” Dag’s eyes were hard, and he eyed the ring on her thumb, the one Stanton had given her back at the chophouse. She was fingering it absently. She noticed his gaze.

“It’s nothing like that.” She buried the hand under the hem of her suit jacket quickly. “New York is where the Mirabilis Institute of the Credomantic Arts is. There is a man there, Professor Mirabilis, who can help me.”

“Help you with this?” Dag took her right hand gently. For such a large man, his touch was surprisingly gentle. He looked at the faintly glowing stone that winked from her palm, mute and mysterious.

“Yes,” Emily murmured.

Dag nodded silently.

“After you left, I went around to see your Pap a few times. I was so darn mad, I wanted to know why you’d gone …” Dag’s face was quizzical, as if he were trying to remember an elusive dream. “He gave me things to drink. They made my head clear up a little. He told me something about the stone … told me that you and Stanton just went to have it looked at …” Dag paused. “I wanted to believe him, Emily.”

“It’s true,” Emily said. “I only went to San Francisco with Mr. Stanton because the Mirabilis Institute has an extension office there. That’s where Caul found us. He wants the stone, Dag. I think

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