Page 28 of Moonlight's Mate
Orson flapped the map that Peter had printed out. “Fae living here? What is our world coming to?” he said by way of commentary. “I’ll get Barry to drive us as close as possible, then we’ll go on foot the rest of the way. We’ll take his phone, so call us if…if anything. Hopefully there’ll be a signal.”
They separated at the front walk, Orson heading toward Barry’s house, Beck, Merrilee and Nally to her car.
Nally peered out the back window as they drove away. “I hope he and his friend will be okay. I’d feel terrible if…” He shook his head. “I already feel terrible.”
“They are bear-kind,” Beck said reassuringly. “And passable singers. If anyone can sweet talk or force a fae,as necessary, it’ll be barbershop bears.”
As they drove through the main part of town, half the houses were still lit, despite the late hour. The half that were wereling, Beck knew. The humans would be blissfully sleeping.
Except one human habitation blazed with a porch light and a string of all-weather rope lighting.
He tapped the windshield, drawing Merrilee’s attention to the Victorian. “Looks like Claudia is awake. Let’s see if her pickers came up with anything today.”
When Merrilee pulled the car around to the big barn, they found Claudia already there. She waved them closer then turned the gesture triumphantly to the pile of rusty pipes laying in the drive.
As they piled out of the car, she grinned. “What a lucky score, hey? Hauler friend of mine just finished salvaging a tear-down.” She peered past them. “That old bear with you too?”
Grinning, Beck shook his head. “But Orson will be thrilled to get all this. Can I pay you now?”
“C’mon inside, and I’ll give you the invoice.” She led the way toward the house. “Mind you, don’t scuff the salt.” She pointed out the thin line of the white crystals poured around the house. “And, Bexley, don’t knock your head on the horseshoes. I didn’t have time to hang ’em right. I did some searching online after I got the foundry design for Orson, and I read the wind chimes are good to have too. But you can’t believe everything you read, right?”
They ducked under the line of iron crescents dangling from the doorframe into the farmhouse kitchen.
Nally glanced around curiously at the braid of garlic cloves tied into the shape of a cross. “You…seem to have barricaded yourself against supernatural assault.”
“Not against bear changelings, I hope,” Claudia said cheerfully. “Just those damned fairies.”
Nally slanted a glance at Beck who shrugged. “Claudia is our resident conspirator.”
The doctor nodded. Most humans who stumbled upon the knowledge of werelings kept the news to themselves, rightly suspecting that informing the world of their discovery would not endear them to either werelings or their fellow humans. But the desire to delve deeper into the unknown and forbidden was too much for many of them to walk away, and so they became conspirators, a word that simultaneously acknowledged their new association with werelings…and a certain inevitable distance from the unsuspecting human world they left behind.
Claudia clucked. “Nobody threatens my friends. Don’t much matter who—orwhat—they are.” She bustled through the swinging door into the dining room which was overflowing with antiques and knickknacks. “I have the invoice here somewhere.”
Nally sank onto a chair that needed a fresh coat of paint. He sighed and leaned his elbow on the end table beside him, then froze.
Beck noticed his arrested expression. “What’s up, Doc?”
Merrilee made a disapproving noise at the line, but Nally reached out for an object displayed below the stand of dyed scarves and beaded necklaces. The hand-lettered sign above readLOCAL ARTISTS.
He held the metal rectangle a moment, his gaze fixed, before rotating his hand to let them see the large, engraved belt buckle.
“I like my pants to make slightly less of a statement,” Beck said.
Merrilee stepped closer. “The pattern is the same as the image Peter showed us.”
Claudia joined them, a yellow sheet in her hand. “Found it. Oh, I see you found a treasure too.” She smiled. “I can add it to your total.”
“Where did you get these?” Beck poked through the other buckles. Three showed more traditional depictions of broncos bucking, but the last had another version of the stylized circle pattern.
Claudia pointed at the sign. “Sweet local boy. Makes some gemstone ones, but I sell out of those faster than he can get them to me. Name’s Josh Reimer.” She turned over a buckle to show them the RR symbol on the back. “Runs some real nice cattle, too, about three hours from here.”
“Reimer Ranch,” Merrilee said. “That was on the plat map we saw.”
“One hill over from Vaile’s valley.” Beck looked at the older woman. “Do you have his phone number?”
While Claudia dug through her records again, Nally hauled himself upright with a pained sigh, clearly anticipating another long explanation, but Beck put a hand on his shoulder. “Claudia, you willing to take on a boarder for the night?”
She shrugged. “Sure, although I still have some work to get done around here. I read how you can smelt iron in a microwave.”
