5. A Grave Big Enough for Four #2
Pearl didn’t do attachments. She didn’t care. She didn’t want to be cared for. When people cared, they got nosy. Like mothers.
“I’m fine,” Pearl lied and shoved too much food into her mouth. Some got stuck in the wire on her teeth. “What’re you gonna do about the attack?”
Sheriff Oak skewered a piece of meat violently with her fork, but she didn’t eat it. “Not much to do. Could report it to the empire. They wouldn’t do anything, or grant me the ability to. The ones who did it are dead, though we both know where they’re from.”
Faltsprings had been at odds with Salt Bluff since before Sheriff Oak’s time.
Beyond the competition for scarce resources, there had been so many tits for tats, and eyes for eyes, neither town could remember how it started, though it was definitely Faltspring’s fault.
Too many wounds festered on both sides to forget or forgive.
And if the railroad had to choose between them for a route and station, what would their enemies do to secure it?
“Willy and Billy deserve better than that,” Pearl spat.
Sheriff Oak nodded seriously. “Yeah, they do. But none of us get what we deserve. I don’t wanna raise a stink right now, with the company looking at us.”
Pearl forced down her last bite of food, though she didn’t have an appetite anymore. “I’m getting low,” she said quietly, feeling how light the tin on her belt was and remembering the sparse blush compact earlier. “You are too.”
“Yup.” Sheriff Oak stabbed another piece of meat.
“Shouldn’t the shipment be back by now?” The salt caravan had departed for the city several weeks ago. And with its return would come funds for the town, and the new paint her mother ordered. And a restock of blight, in the depths of old white salt bags no one would notice.
Raw blight could be found many places, but in its unprocessed state, it would kill a human who dared use it.
The empress, a demigoddess who’d claimed victory in the Sundering War several centuries ago, required blight to sustain her and outlawed its use by anyone else.
The capital was the only place where it was officially processed.
But something that powerful could never have been contained.
In the underbelly of any city were more unsanctioned processors and suppliers.
It was an open secret that the sheriff used it.
While technically illegal, there was no one else around to report her to.
Out here, on the remote fringes of this land the empire claimed in name only, Sheriff Oak determined the laws, and they were all better off for it.
Pearl frequently forgot they even had a mayor.
Wallace was fine, but no one paid him much attention most of the time.
“I expected the caravan yesterday,” Sheriff Oak said. “But the weather could’ve delayed them. I’ll worry in another two days. Beau’s leading the group. He’s got a good head on his shoulders.”
Pearl hoped that head was still attached.
Sheriff Oak kicked her feet up on the table, leaning back as she flagged down the bartender. “A bottle, Spencer.”
The burly man approached with a bottle of bourbon and two glasses, setting them pointedly beside the dusty boots on the wood’s surface. “Glad you’re home safe, Pearl,” he said. “This one’s on the house.”
Sheriff Oak caught his hand as he walked past and pressed a quick kiss to it. He smiled, leaning down when she tugged. Whatever it was she whispered in his ear turned his whiskery cheeks instantly pink. He nodded and retreated to the bar.
Pearl raised an eyebrow.
Her mother just shrugged, pouring two generous glasses. “I’m glad too,” she said quietly, handing Pearl one.
The bourbon burned pleasantly on the way down. “I know, Sheriff.”
They sat in silence, drinking together, over the sounds of the few other patrons and the clink of porcelain and glassware from behind the counter as Spencer and his staff put them away. Even the twins were taking a night off, their flirtatious laughter absent.
After a quarter of the bottle was gone, Pearl finally asked, “What would you’ve done?” She kept her eyes on the swirling liquid in her glass.
“About what?”
“If they took me. Would you’ve paid?” It was a stupid question.
Sheriff Oak met her gaze, her gray eyes shards of flint. “I would’ve gotten you back. Don’t think money would’ve been involved.”
Pearl looked away, regretting asking even as silly warmth spread in her chest.
“So, you gonna tell me about her?”
Pearl snapped her head up. “Who?”
“Whoever’s got your mind wrapped around her fingers.”
Pearl shifted, her thoughts flying to Driz.
She wished it were that simple, that she were dreaming of a woman.
And that she could share. An idea was forming in her mind.
It was a terrible one, but it floated around her brain, and Pearl had never claimed to be smart.
“Nah,” she said instead, draining her glass and standing. “I’m tired. Gonna head to bed.”
“I’ll be home later,” her mother said, eyes drifting to Spencer. “Maybe in the morning.”
“Be safe.”
Sheriff Oak chuckled. “Good night, Pea.”