Grandma grinned. “Ain’t the size that matters, as I used to tell my second husband. Mind you, wasn’t being exactly truthful with him.” She patted the stock.
They walked down the road. Selena’s hands, despite wiping them, were slick on the handles of the wheelbarrow. The wheel was well oiled but still made a softsqueeka-squeeka-squeekathat grated on her nerves.
Copper paced alongside, looking only mildly interested in what was going on. Copper was taking this rather better than her owner was.
Well, she’s a Lab, they’re gundogs, she’s probably got some kind of gene for standing next to people who are shooting things ...
The moon was very bright and the pale road shone in it. It was easier to pick her way than she expected. The desert was full of odd, sharp noises that made Selena jump.
“Toad,” said Grandma, as she flinched. “Spring’s their calling season. We get a good rain, you won’t be able to hear for the singing.”
Something only barely seen skittered across the road. Both Copper’s head and Grandma’s gun jerked up.
Whatever it was, it moved too fast to see. Grandma made a snorting sound through her nose and lowered the gun again.
“I hate this,” said Selena quietly.
Grandma bumped a shoulder into her, kindly. “Yeah, but you’re not saying it’s crazy anymore, and I do appreciate that.”
They kept going. Selena was pretty sure she was going to get blisters. She needed to get a really good pair of gardening gloves, notthe ones from Grandma Billy that were a size too large. If she were wearing gloves, it would help.
I’m thinking about gloves while I’m pushing a load of possessed owl skins to the church. Of course I am.
It occurred to her that she had not been worrying about scripts or saying the right thing for most of the evening. She mulled this thought over for a minute.
There are no scripts for this. My instincts are usually wrong, but—well—they’re what I’ve got.
It came to her, as she pushed the wheelbarrow over a hump, that Walter would not be doing any better. In fact, he would be doing much worse. He would be yelling and demanding that someone tell him that this wasn’t happening. Or he would simply be yelling that it wasn’t happening, when it obviouslywas.
“You’re doing fine,” said Grandma, as if in echo of her thoughts. “Just want you to know that. No more than the usual amount of ‘this can’t be happening’ and a lot less than some people.”
Praise was rare enough in Selena’s world that it warmed her to the heart, even as her skin crawled and the bushes rattled and sang with god-knew-what creatures or monsters.
I am doing the right thing. Grandma knows what’s going on. I am not yelling or screaming or saying that there are no owl monsters in the dark.
I am behaving correctly.
Something snorted in the bushes. Somethingbig. Copper made a querulous noise somewhere between a growl and a yip, a “what is going on?” noise.
Grandma tensed, turning toward the scrub oaks. Another snort rang out, and she relaxed.
“Ha! All right. Keep going, girl, we’re likely fine now.”
“But there’s something there!” Selena couldn’t quite hear it breathing, but she could feel it on her skin, the presence of some large thing in the desert.
“Yeah, but it’s on our side. Keep on going. Won’t say something won’t try for us, but we’ve got backup if it does.”
“Whatisit?” demanded Selena.
“Friendly,” said Grandma firmly.
Selena took a deep breath. Copper wasn’t acting alarmed. After the first yip, her ears had come up. She wagged her tail briskly as they walked, a dog going somewhere familiar. Selena kept walking, hearing the occasional snap of twigs, the scrape of dried leaves against a body larger than Selena’s own.
“Is it Merv?” she asked weakly.
“What?”
“The peacock.” Selena hunched her shoulders. “Doesn’t he wander around at night?”
