Page 14 of Mistletoe

Emma gave him a flat look. “No politics.”

He smiled and patted her head as one would to placate a petulant child. “Such tedious conversation you demand, but I will do as you advise, prairie flower.”

Emma knocked his hand away, grinning despite herself. She coughed discreetly, and the stern expression returned briefly as she struggled not to laugh.

Mirth won out. “Refrain from the spirits. You know how you get, and I won’t bail you out, you old reprobate,” she warned, wagging her finger with comedic exaggeration.

“Yes, my petal.”

Experience told her that she had little say in whether he chose to heed her words. Oscar De Lacey did as he pleased, was utterly charming while he did so, and seldom faced serious consequences.

As long as he didn’t start a brawl, she’d count that as a success.

Emma completed her tasks of purchasing sturdy cotton fabric trousers suitable for work, collected the goat cheese earnings, and placed an order for the items on her mother’s list. The packages would be ready and loaded into the wagon in an hour, leaving plenty of daylight to return to the farm.

With that completed, she stopped by the newspaper office. The space was alight with excitement, people rushing about, speaking at volume. In the back of the building, the metal printing press clanged and thumped. No one could tell her the results of the military’s activity in the mountains, only that the Aerie had fallen. For the first time in two hundred years, since the original colonists settled on Nexus, the vampire Draven lost control of his fortress.

Exciting news indeed, but it told her nothing of her brother’s fate.

Emma found her father exactly where he promised to be, doing exactly what he promised he would not.

The tavern was sparsely populated for the middle of the day. Most of the patrons were soldiers in uniform. A few wore civilian clothing but still had the precise military look about them.

“Natural spaces must be protected. This planet existed before humans arrived. It supported life, a fascinating ecology. Erasing the native flora and fauna with a poor imitation of Earth is an insult. The arrogance of humanity!” Oscar was flush in the face, leaning forward to speak with enthusiasm. An empty mug sat in front of him at the bar.

“Such an odd position, given thatA Song for the Prairieis about man’s unconquerable spirit and taming the wilderness,” his companion replied, then quoted a line of Oscar’s poetry. He was a younger man, the age of her brother, dressed in a gray military uniform that looked as if it had never seen a day in the field. He held a mug of beer in one hand and gestured with enthusiasm as he spoke. “The unresponsive sky moves against me.”

“Ugh, that line. Such hubris. To assume all of nature would act against you or have the slightest consideration for your well-being.”

“But that indifference makes nature the antagonist to humanity.”

Emma listened long enough to determine the conversation to be amiable and ordered herself a coffee at the bar. Her father could argue poetry for hours. Argue anything, really. The man loved to debate.

A woman joined her at the bar. She wore a sky-blue greatcoat lined with a snowy white fur trim.

Emma tried not to compare their appearances, but it was difficult. She was a tall woman with a body shaped by farmwork. Her hands were rough. Her complexion was ruddy. She knew that her figure was called stout when people felt generous, and the many layers she wore for warmth did not help. Today, she wore, from the base layer up, wool tights and undershirt, thick socks that went to her knees, a petticoat, a thick wool dress the color of mud, and a once green greatcoat that was now a murky gray. And boots, caked in mud.

Everything was covered in mud or the color of mud.

Except Sheriff Nina Navarre. She sparkled like sunlight on fresh snow.

“Did you fall off your horse, De Lacey? You got a little… everywhere,” the sheriff said. She wiggled her fingers, gesturing at Emma’s general appearance.

Emma turned her attention to adding cream and sugar to her coffee. Nina’s words might have sounded friendly, even teasing, but they were not on friendly terms. They had not been friends since their school days. “Something I can help you with, Sheriff?”

“Just keeping an eye on known miscreants.”

Terms were extremely unfriendly.

“Miscreant? My father may buck the conventions of polite society and has strong opinions, but he is hardly a miscreant,” she said.

“Come to town for news of your brother?” Nina asked, neatly changing the topic.

Emma nodded. “Need to stock up for the winter. The military requisitions cleaned us out.”

“I’m not sure you’ll find much in town either. The requisitions hit everyone.”

Emma took a cautious sip of the coffee.

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