CHAPTER 11

Out of the flames and smoke and chaos, a hand grabs my arm firmly. I yank it away and brace the Medicine Head’s crate against my side.

“Don’t do that!” I yell at whoever grabbed me.

I look up and find a tall man standing before me. My eyes glide from his chest to his face. His blue eyes study me.

I know those eyes.

I hold my breath and hear my heart pounding in my chest. Instinctively, I clutch the crate even tighter to me until it presses into my hip bone. I back away from the man. My skirt hem blows around my ankles from the winds of the fire.

“Girl!” the man with blue eyes yells. “A smart child would get out of this town.” His voice is crisp somehow, even above the howling of the fires.

I’m speechless, as though my voice wouldn’t work even if I had the right words to say. Those eyes know me. For years, I have been imagining the revengeful words and deeds I would heap upon this man, but in this second, I am caught totally unprepared and I am scared inside and out. All I do is stare and hold tight to Father’s possession.

More loudly than before, undeniably, the Medicine Head is saying Hold me. Hold me. The man tilts his head and turns his ear toward me, or toward the Medicine Head. He shakes his head, like he’s trying to rid himself of some idea.

“Girl!” he yells at me. “Are you stupid? Get out of town!” He bends to my face and gazes deep into my eyes.

I see a flash of recognition. He grabs my arm again, but this time it’s the one that’s holding the Medicine Head. I turn as though I’m going to do as he says and get out of town.

He pulls me closer. “Wait,” he says. He looks me over again. “I wonder if we haven’t met before.” He’s staring at the crate now, turning his ear to it as though he can hear it.

The ends of his mustache are coiled and singed. His face is blackened with soot, but this is without a doubt the last rider of the posse that hanged my father. And what I knew then, what I’ve known all along, comes to me surely: This is the man responsible for my father’s death. I feel sick in my stomach. My mouth tastes like iron and is full of saliva.

“I,” he booms, “am Captain Cornelius Greeney.” He lowers his head closer to the Medicine Head’s crate. He’s listening, and he smiles as though he has just read my mind. He lifts his quirt and uses it to point at the box. “Do you hear something?” he asks.

Just then a rider on a horse shouts out, “Captain! We need your counsel on the north end of town. The insurgents are regrouping, sir.” The horse rears and kicks up dust and whinnies.

Captain Greeney faces the rider and says, “Get me a fresh horse.”

Even if he didn’t see me that day hiding in the grass, which I think he did, I worry that I look every bit the image of Father. I can’t think of what to do or say. I hold my breath and I try to swallow all of the saliva in my mouth. But when I do, my stomach lurches it back up. With the smoke, the heat, the fires, the worry, the whole world seems hazy. I can’t see. My ears ring. The ground beneath my feet is unsteady.

“Girl,” Captain Greeney demands, “what is in that box?”

Eustace comes forward. I put my arm up in front of his chest, to stop him. But he gently puts it back down.

“Sir,” Eustace says, “you might want to step away. That’s my pet rattlesnake she’s got in there. Keeping it safe for me, she is.”

Captain Greeney backs away from me. Eustace is clever and quick. I’m grateful for him right now.

“I hate snakes,” Captain Greeney hisses. He leans back and slits his eyes. “You look very familiar to me.” He tilts his head as though a slightly different angle will determine whether he recognizes me or not. “I think,” he sneers at me, “we’ve met before, but I just can’t place you.” He smiles a strange smile. His eyeteeth are longer than most people’s. They make him seem serpentine.

Captain Greeney jerks his quirt against his leg. “Your eyes remind me of…” He touches his mustache and grimaces.

The fires reflect in his eyes. I can’t look away. I’m mute. How long will this go on? Could I die of fear? Could I hold my own breath to death? Is that possible? My mouth is full of a bitter bile. I have to spit. But I can’t. I shouldn’t.

He goes on. “Yes, yes.” He tilts his head one way and then the other. “The long nose. The eyes that seem squinty from peering at small things.” He leans in so close to my face that I can smell his breath. He reaches out again and moves a strand of hair away from my forehead. His fingernails are long and scratch against my skin.

The rider from before gallops up again, this time holding the reins of another horse. “Captain!” he shouts. “Your horse is ready, sir.”

Captain Greeney’s evil eyes glare at me and then at the crate.

“Ahem,” interrupts the rider. “Sir! The fire!”

Captain Greeney ignores him. “Kill that thing. I don’t like snakes.” He strokes his mustache. “You will be seeing me again, girl. Count on it.”

My stomach churns in revulsion. I have to get the disgusting taste out. I can’t keep it in for one more second. I lean over and spit right on the toe of Captain Greeney’s boot. My spittle slides from the top of his foot to the parched ground, leaving a wet and shiny streak.

He looks at his boot. He makes a sound like “Wha!” He shakes his boot as though he’s trying to shake the slaver off. “You little…” he begins to say.

“Captain!” shouts the rider. “We need your orders, sir!”

Captain Greeney raises his hand to the rider. Then he straightens his coat, turns, and mounts his horse, even as flames shoot all around us. He looks like the king of Hell. “Oh, duty, duty! You call for me again and again!” He takes off his hat and waves it in the air. “Let it burn!” he shouts. “Let the whole town burn!” Then he whips his horse and shouts, “Yah!” and rides toward the north end.

The rider gives me a sympathetic look, soft and kind. “I don’t know who you are, young lady, but you’d best get yourself out of Tolerone.” Then he rides away.

The Medicine Head is screeching now, like a hawk over a Kansas sky. I drop it. I press my palms against my ears. The swirling flames and curling smoke and dizzying smells overwhelm me. “Stop!” I shout. “Quiet!” I pinch my eyes closed. I wish the whole world would go away.