Jackrabbit Hole House. What a name.
As Selena walked through the middle of town, she could see that it wasn’t the only named house. There were no numbers on any of the buildings, but they all had little plaques. Some of them were set too far back from the road to read, but most of them had big, bold letters, as if the house names were something people were proud of.
Pocket Gopher House. South Porch House. Tortoise on Its Shell House. House with Its Back to the Desert.
Some of them were self-explanatory—Under the Olive Tree House had a low wing tucked up under gnarled branches, and Three Saguaro House had three tall cactus growing in the front. Others didn’t make any sense at all—the House with Its Back to the Desert was actually backed against the mechanic’s, and It Fell Down House appeared to be in good repair.
No wonder Aunt Amelia’s postcard was simply from Quartz Creek.
Selena passed the church. The plaque beside the door was brass instead of wood. House of Our Lady of the Palo Verdes.
That makes more sense. That’s a church sort of name. You name churches. Houses get numbers, though, not names.
Apparently the people of Quartz Creek disagreed.
The house to the left of the church was Left-of-the-Church House, which made sense, but the house on the right was Bougainvillea House, so not even that was consistent. Selena sighed.
There were only two rings of houses on this side, although Selena could see a few straggling buildings off in either direction. Many of the houses had back gardens fenced with chicken wire, which did nothing to contain the roving chickens. A few were standing empty, with boards over the windows.
Can’t keep people in ’em. You know how it is.
She wished she did.
The road curved along the base of the hill that she had seen from the train platform. There were more trees than she had expected, although she couldn’t be sure if they were real trees or just more of the scrubby desert plants, grown unexpectedly tall in the shadow of the hillside. They rose up ten and twelve feet high, so that she and the dog walked together through a strange dry forest.
Brush,she thought.Scrub. I have been using the words all my life and this is what they really meant and I had no idea.
Copper meandered along the edge of the road, stopping occasionally to sniff. Selena watched her exploring all the little canine mysteries—why this twig was more interesting than those others, why this patch of ground needed to be peed on, why this rock was much more fascinating than all the other available rocks.
That last question was answered when the rock unfolded long legs and bounded away. Copper jumped back, startled, and the jackrabbit shot into the desert.
The dog gave half-hearted chase—her prey was running, and that’s what you were supposed to do—but she stopped at the end of the leash.
Selena laughed. It wasn’t much of a laugh, but it was there. She scrubbed at her cheeks with the heel of her hand. “Didn’t expect that, did you?”
Copper looked vaguely offended. Rocks should not run away.
“You’re a city dog, aren’t you, girl?” She scratched behind the ears, in the good spot, and Copper thumped against her leg. “Not used to jackrabbits.”
Not that I am either. Jackrabbit Hole House. Huh.
The humor didn’t last long once she was out of sight of the town. The desert rose up around her like an alien landscape. The brush was full of noises that she didn’t recognize: dry, skittery little noises. Something alive. More jackrabbits maybe, or lizards, or quail.
She hoped it was just quail.
A loud buzz broke out, mere inches away, and Selena jumped sideways, her mind suddenly full of rattlesnakes.Oh god oh god what do I do do I grab Copper do I run—
A moment later she recognized the rising buzz of a cicada.You’ve got those back home. You know what they are.She pressed the heel of her hand against her forehead. Copper, seeing that she had stopped, sat down and waited. After a minute Selena started walking again.
Therearerattlesnakes, though. They exist out here. What am I supposed to do if I see one? I work at a deli, for Christ’s sake. I know deli things. I don’t know about rattlesnakes.While the customers could sometimes get very hostile, especially around the holidays, they weren’t actuallyvenomous. And Selena was pretty sure that you couldn’t tell a rattlesnake, “I’m sorry, ma’am, I’m afraid that we just can’t help you.”
Well, you probably can, but I doubt the rattlesnake will listen. Not that the customers always did either.
She wished she could turn on her phone and search forhow to deal with rattlesnakes, although there probably wasn’t any signal out here anyway.
A house appeared on the left side of the road, around the curve of the hill. It looked old and there were cracks in the adobe. A low stone wall ran alongside the road, and trees crowded over it, dappling the dry earth with shadow.
There was a peacock on the wall.
