Flash Fiction Interlude: Limited Operations

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was written for Sunday Scribblings. It's also part of the Will and Diana series, which you can find out more about in the sidebar or by following the tags. This particular story takes place around the time Will and Diana first started with Unitas, when they were in their early teens.
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The journey had taken longer than they expected. Although the map was good and they were familiar with the terrain from last spring's campaigns, Will and Diana found the roads washed out and a bridge collapsed from recent storms. Their horses were hardy and patient, but that patience didn't extend to the teenage messengers. When they came within sight of town, Diana urged her mare to a trot with Will close behind.

Since it was evening, they bypassed the clinic and went straight to the doctor's house where Will banged an urgent staccato on the door.

A white-haired gentleman opened the door and frowned. "Can I help you?"

"Are you Dr. Eldridge?" At his nod, Will handed him an envelope. "Message from Commander Harley Mayes with Unitas."

"You have to come with us right away," Diana blurted.

The doctor looked at her over the tops of his glasses before turning his attention to the letter. "I'm afraid what you're asking is impossible."

Will and Diana glanced at each other. They were new to running messages for a military unit and had no idea if this sort of response was unusual or should even be allowed.

The old man appeared to read their minds. "For one thing, I'm not part of your military operation, although I support you. Second, I'm the only doctor this town's got." He waved a hand for emphasis. "I have a typhoid case on the other side of Main, and a young woman up the street is due to have her first child any day now."

"But this is appendicitis," Diana said. "Francisco has to have a doctor."

"He has to have a surgeon," Dr. Eldridge corrected her. He folded the letter and put it back in its envelope. "I haven't done an appendectomy in years and even if I did that kind of operation every day, I wouldn't want to do it under field conditions."

Will reached a stealthy hand toward his gun, but the doctor had sharp eyes.

"That won't do you any good, son." He sighed and handed back the letter. "Even if I went with you, it's not likely your man would make it. The danger of complication and infection is too great."

"Isn't there anything we can do?" Diana asked in exasperation. "Is there another doctor we can ask?"

"No one close, I'm afraid." Dr. Eldridge gazed at her and his features softened. "How about you bring your patient here and I'll see what I can do."

"He's in pain, he has a fever, and he's throwing up," Will said. "He can't get here. That's why we came to get you."

"And I can't go with you. I'm sorry."

Before they could question the man further, he shut the door, leaving Will and Diana staring at each other on the front porch.

"We can't go back without any help at all," Diana said.

"I have a good mind to kidnap him."

"Think that would help?"

"No telling." Will shoved the letter in a pocket. "Let's think about this."

Diana followed him to where their horses were tethered to a wind-blown apple tree. "We'll have to think fast," she said. "Francisco was pretty bad off when we left. No telling how he's doing now."

"Might even be dead," Will pointed out.

"That's no reason not to try."

While they pondered, the wind picked up and their horses shook their heads with impatience.

"We'll go to the next town," Will finally said.

"Think it'll do any good?"

He shrugged and swung himself into the saddle. "I don't want anyone saying we didn't do everything we could."

Diana agreed and mounted her horse. As they rode into the growing darkness, the wind blew dust across the road and low clouds scudded across the deepening blue of the sky. It wasn't likely they would reach the next town and convince a doctor to come with them in time to save their comrade, but at least they were making every effort. One could do no more than that.

Flash Fiction Interlude: Leap of Faith

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story was written for Sunday Scribblings. Coyote and Macy are characters in the Will and Diana series, which you can find out more about in the sidebar or by following the tags.
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Coyote ran a hand along the curve of Macy's hip and she stiffened. "Come on. Why do you never let me hold you afterward?"

"Just pay me so I can leave."

The money was in the pocket of his pants, flung somewhere in the tent, but Coyote wasn't ready to search. "Why don't you believe me when I say I like you for you and not just for this?"

Macy rolled over and looked at him. "Maybe because I've heard it before?"

"I'm not like the others."

"No, but everyone knows you're the biggest prankster in the entire Unitas movement. You're unreliable. If you weren't so good at derailing enemy trains, you'd have been kicked out a long time ago."

Coyote watched her roll over again so her back was facing him. "What does that have to do with this? Just because I like a good joke now and then doesn't mean I'd play one on you. Have I ever made you look like a fool?"

Macy didn't answer.

"You know, sometimes you have trust a little."

Macy sat up and pulled the blanket to cover her nakedness, as if Coyote, and most of the boys in camp hadn't been to bed with her. "I did that once, and look what it got me. Or didn't anyone tell you?"

"I heard what Boeing did." Coyote sat up, too. "It was a crappy thing for him to do, leading you on like that. And the whole business with the knitting needle..." he shuddered. "I don't think it was right, but I understand why you did it. You were scared."

Macy nodded.

"I would never abandon you, or say it wasn't my kid."

"I can't have kids any more, anyway."

"That's okay, too. More fun for us, right?"

Macy looked away. "Fun. That's all you guys think about. Just pay me, okay?"

With a sigh, Coyote got out from under the blanket and rummaged among the clutter for his pants. He found the silver coins and placed them on the bedroll where she could see them. "Go on, then."

She took the coins and began putting her clothes on.

"I thought we were friends, you know. You were one of the first ones to really believe me about the voices, and you're the only one in this entire unit who doesn't think I'm crazy."

Macy worked a shrug into her movements as she pulled on a sweater.

"You took up for me when the others were being jerks. That means something to me."

She continued dressing in silence.

Coyote went to her side of the tent and put his hands on her shoulders. "Are you listening to me?"

Macy turned her face away. "Just let me get dressed. I'm supposed to help Paloma cook dinner."

"Fine." He watched her, but made no move to put his own clothes on. Just as she was about to go, he stopped her. "You may not have faith in me, but I have faith in you."

Coyote moved away so she could leave, but instead she sank back onto his bedroll, buried her face in the pillow and cried.

Flash Fiction Interlude: Ordinary Miracles A Will and Diana Adventure

NOTE: New readers may want to read up on Will and Diana's world before proceeding.

“Close your eyes, pray to La Señora, then toss in your coin. Like this.” Sachi’s small iron coin splashed and made ripples across the surface of the pool.

“I didn’t hear you wish for anything,” Boeing said.

Sachi opened her eyes and sighed as if he were an ignorant child instead of one of their unit’s best marksmen. “If you say it out loud, it won’t come true.”

Diana nodded, hoping to forestall an argument. “I’ve heard that, too. But—” she glanced around, taking in the abandoned and partially-melted adobe church and its dusty yard bordered by the remnants of a wall. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“Kind of a dump for someplace a miracle occurred,” Will added. “If it was so important, you’d think the locals would keep it up better.”

Coyote went to the edge of the wishing pool and peered into the water. “Lots of stuff down there.” He looked around like Diana had done, then dug in his pocket. “All that wishing must not have done any good. But what the hell.” He dropped in a coin and watched it sink to the bottom.

“Okay,” Will sighed. He dropped in his coin then made a furtive glance at Diana before closing his eyes and making his wish.

Diana went next, standing a long time with her eyes squeezed shut, her lips moving in silent prayer.

When she was done, Coyote laughed. “That was some wish.”

“I want a lot of things. But none of them are for me, so that makes it okay, right?” She looked to Sachi for confirmation.

While Sachi hesitated, unsure as to the rule on asking La Señora for more than one miracle, Boeing shook his head. “You’re all crazy. Wasting your money on a bunch of superstitious bullshit.”

“It’s not superstition,” Sachi said. “It’s the honest truth that right here a spring appeared when a little boy prayed to La Señora for water to help his village through a drought.”

“A fairy tale.”

“At least it’s not as crazy as the stories the older people tell us about airplanes and rockets that went to the moon.”

“But there were witnesses for those things,” Boeing reminded her. “And there’s evidence you can go look at in books and airplane graveyards.”

“There were witnesses at this church too,” Sachi sniffed. She pointed at the pool. “And evidence.”

Boeing opened his mouth to say something, but Will cut him off. “Come on, man. Humor her.”

Boeing fumbled in a pocket, approached the pool and dropped something in.

Sachi peered over the edge and frowned. “You’re not supposed to use wooden scrip. It’s going to float there forever.”

“You didn’t say what it had to be made of. Quit changing the rules.”

Diana put a hand on Sachi’s arm. “It’s okay. I’m sure it’s all the same to La Señora. Let’s go back. We’ve been gone too long as it is.”

As they rode their horses back to camp, they speculated about their upcoming assignment. The latest dispatch from their spies had indicated a new attack was imminent, with troops waiting in camps along the Mexican border and supplies arriving daily. Sabotage and diversion would be needed to keep the Mexicans busy until their own army could reach the area. It would be a dangerous job with a high potential for casualties and although they tried to talk casually about the matter, there was no mistaking the nervous anticipation that lay beneath their words. Would the wars ever end?

When they arrived at base they noticed an extra flurry of activity around the camp kitchen. Grateful for the distraction from their worries, they hurried to put their horses away so they could investigate.

“Cabrito?” Diana asked in wonderment. She had been anticipating yet another dull meal of nopales and boiled jerky, or maybe corn atole, not shanks of fresh goat sizzling on spits over the fire.

Paloma smiled and shrugged. “It wandered into camp a couple hours ago. It was healthy and had no markings indicating it belonged to anyone.”

Sachi wandered over and nodded sagely. “La Señora sent it.”

Diana pursed her lips in annoyance. Stray goats weren’t unusual. She was tempted to point this out, but just then the wind shifted and the scent of roasting meat filled her nostrils. Her stomach rumbled. The goat was welcome, no matter who sent it. It might not be a miracle, but it was something.

Love and War(A Will and Diana Adventure)

Will shifted in his saddle and frowned at the horizon. “Seems like we should’ve been there already.”

“It can’t be much farther,” Diana said. “We’re almost to Don Reymundo’s lands.”

“That’s what worries me.”

Diana fumbled in her saddlebag and pulled out a compass, squinting at the markings in the bright glare of the sun.

“We don’t need that,” Will told her. “The river has been to our left the whole time, so we can’t have passed it.”

They continued in silence for another mile, intent on their mission to deliver a message to the unit monitoring Don Reymundo’s growing fiefdom. As if Don Reymundo’s land-grabbing wasn’t enough, there were rumors he had allied with at least one of the northern states of Mexico, and this could not be allowed.

Will and Diana smelled the burn before they saw it—a heavy, sickly odor of more than just wood. Mingled into the charcoal smell of burnt cottonwoods was the choking scent of scorched plastic, trash, and flesh.

He and Diana kicked their horses into a trot. Ahead, they could make out the charred trunks of trees, the blackened walls of a small adobe dwelling, and the remains of a corral.

“Was this it, do you think?” Diana asked as she walked her horse through the ashes, skirting the grisly remains of humans and animals.

Will rested a hand on his gun, looking around as if there might be arsonists among the remains. Diana was about to tease him for his caution when a sound by the river caught her attention. She drew her gun and edged her horse closer to Will’s as a dirty figure dragged himself out of the brush by the water.

“Stay where you are,” Will shouted. “Who are you?”

The man looked at them with the pained expression of a wounded animal. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He dragged himself a few more feet and collapsed with a whimper.

While Will kept his gun trained on the stranger, Diana jumped to the ground and approached him. She squatted by his side but made no move to touch him because what had looked from a distance like mud and soot was something else entirely.

“He’s burnt pretty bad,” she said. “He needs help.”

Will dismounted and fumbled in his saddlebag for his canteen. He gave it to Diana, eyeing the man skeptically while she tried to get him to drink. “I don’t think there’s much we can do.”

Diana sat back on her heels with a sigh. “I know. It’s just—”

“See if he can tell us his name and what happened.”

Diana wet her bandanna and moistened the man’s lips, leaning in close so she could hear his whispered words. She murmured encouragement as he answered her questions and when he had nothing more to say, she asked if he had any message for his next of kin.

The man mumbled something, but she couldn’t make it out, so she asked him to repeat himself. Instead, he shook his head and fell silent.

“Do you want to do it, or should I?” Will asked.

Diana got to her feet and walked away. She had gone only a little way when she heard the shot and stopped. When Will joined her, he found her staring at the river. Her eyes were wet and when she turned to look at him, she swiped at her nose.

“What did he say?” Will asked.

“That Don Reymundo’s people did this. They took some of our people away as prisoners.”

“That's just what we need. A rescue mission.”

“His name was Jacinto Torres. He had a daughter.”

“What’s her name? Where is she? Did he have a message for her?”

Diana shook her head. “She was with Don Reymundo’s people.”

“So was this guy one of ours or not?”

“He was ours.”

Will fell silent, pondering the implications. Finally he said, “Well, I guess the message we were supposed to deliver is pretty useless now.”

“I guess so.”

“We’ll bury him, then go back and tell central command what happened.”

Diana nodded and looked around at the blackened landscape. “Hard to believe people who are supposed to love each other could do something like this.”

“Mother always says war is hell.”

“But why—”

“Don’t ask. You’ll make yourself crazy trying to understand other people.” Will tugged at his hat, then reached for her hand. “Come on. We’ve got a job to do.”

Flash Fiction Interlude: In a Dry Land(A Will and Diana Adventure)

NOTE: This previously-unposted flash appears in my Will and Diana Adventures book of stories. Readers unfamiliar with these stories may want to read up on Will and Diana's world before proceeding.

The donkey cart bounced along the road, its patched rubber tires churning up clouds of dust. Macy clutched the seat as the cart lurched into a pothole. “Watch where you’re going.”

Cascabel flicked the reins across the donkey’s back. “Maybe you should drive if you think you’d be so good at it.”

“Maybe we should camp closer to water.” Macy cast a glance toward the bed of the cart to make sure none of their containers had fallen over.

Sachi moved her horse closer. “There’s things I’d rather do than guard the water run, so I hope we find another well soon.”

“At least we get extra this way.” Diana said from where she walked her horse on the other side. “Direct from the source, where it tastes good.”

The other girls nodded. Water that tasted like plastic containers was only slightly better than no water at all.

They came down a hill and started the next rise.

“Hold up,” Diana said. “I think Balto’s got a stone.”

Cascabel stopped the cart and set the brake. Diana dismounted to check the donkey’s feet, but there was no stone.

“Unhitch him,” Sachi suggested.

Diana unhitched the donkey and sure enough, he was limping. The girls huddled to discuss their options, but their instructions for these types of situations had been clear. Sachi would ride back to camp for assistance while Diana would hitch her horse to the cart and try to maintain their progress at the annoying pace of the injured donkey.

The girls had gone half a mile in sullen silence when they saw a cluster of riders in the distance.

“That was fast,” Macy said.

Diana squinted at the horizon. “Too fast. And where’s our fresh donkey?”

Cursing, the girls scrambled for their weapons, but Diana knew with a sick feeling in her stomach that unless Sachi showed up with reinforcements, it was she who would have to defend the three of them. The other girls were only camp supporters.

The riders came nearer and it was clear they weren’t from an enemy unit, nor were they locals going about their business. These were young men dressed in flashy finery, desert pirates moving from one raiding opportunity to another.

If they had been a pack of starving wolves, Diana would’ve been less terrified. Unaffiliateds were unpredictable. They might trot past without a second glance or they might do something horrible, like—

“Maybe one of us would be enough,” Macy said. “I could—”

Diana glanced at her. Macy sat pale and wide-eyed, holding her pistol in a trembling grip. She had worked in a brothel and wasn’t above using her old tricks to distract an enemy guard, but this was different. “No.” Diana turned toward the men who were closing on them rapidly. “Make them fight for us.”

There was no time to unhitch her horse, so she walked to meet them, carrying her M16 in a way she hoped made it clear she knew how to use it. The men kicked their horses and swooped upon her, circling in a manner that called to mind the tales Apaches told of how their ancestors isolated enemies before a kill.

“What’s with the big gun, little girl?”

“Need a boyfriend? I’ve got a big gun, too.”

Diana tried to think, but the circling riders were making her dizzy. She could take out any one of them, but then the others would have her for sure, and Macy and Cascabel would be left unprotected.

“Are your friends as pretty as you? We can show you a good time.”

Dammit, where were Sachi and the reinforcements?

“What’s in the wagon, cutie?”

“Water!” she said in exasperation. “And will you stop and talk to me like normal people?”

To her surprise, they did stop. A man with pale eyes and a spattering of tattoos across his face edged his skittish horse toward her. He made no move to draw his weapon and instead twitched his shoulders beneath his velvet shirt. “You say you got water?”

“Yes. No jewelry, no batteries, no—”

He cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Where you going?”

Diana had started to relax but now she moved the M16 back into position. “None of your business.”

Instead of taking offense, he looked away. When he met Diana’s eyes again, it was with a note of vulnerability. “I’ve got a guy laid up not far from here. None of us has had water since yesterday morning—”

“There’s a spring five miles back on this road.”

“And we’re less than a mile from a guy who’s dying.” He rubbed his face. “We won’t molest you. Just share, okay?”

Sensing she had no better options, Diana started walking toward the cart, indicating with a jerk of her head that the raiders should follow. As she drew near, she motioned for Macy and Cascabel to put down their weapons. “They say all they want is water. Let them take what they want.”

Macy and Cascabel stepped away from the cart and watched in fascination as the men grabbed the containers and raised them to their lips, gulping noisily and spilling water on themselves. One barrel was big enough for their horses and they took turns letting the animals drink. When they were satisfied, the man with the pale eyes approached Diana again. “We’re going to take some of this water to our friend.”

By now the others had mounted their horses, each carrying one of the smaller containers in his lap. They hadn’t gone far when the pale-eyed one jerked on the reins and cantered back. Macy and Cascabel scurried under the cart in a panic, but Diana held her ground. The man wheeled his horse in front of her and tossed something at her feet. “Thanks, pretty lady.” He kicked his horse again and chased after his companions.

In the silence that followed their fading hoof beats, Diana bent to retrieve the gold piece. It was a large one, heavy and valuable. She was polishing it with the tail of her shirt, her hands still shaking and her mind reeling, when a new movement on the horizon caught her attention.

It was Sachi.

With relief, Diana dropped the coin in a pocket. “Well, it’s about fucking time.”

Flash Fiction Interlude: The Written Word

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story about the aftermath of Will's first meeting with Diana is concurrent with Tin Soldier, the first book in my series.

Amalia walked into the kitchen, startling Will as he sat at the table, poring over a book and piece of paper. “What on earth are you doing?”

Will slammed the dictionary shut and shoved the paper under it. “Nothing.”

Amalia had been trying for months to teach Will to read but the eleven year-old runaway saw no value in it, having fended for himself since he was eight without the benefit of letters or numbers. For him to willingly open a dictionary was startling, but it was the defiance in his eyes and his faint flush of embarrassment that brought Amalia up short. “I thought you were going to help me with the wagon. There isn’t much time before it gets dark.” She paused, then added, “You sure took your time getting back here with that horse.”

Will looked away, his cheeks bright red. “That girl talks a lot.”

“What girl? Diana?”

“I guess that’s her name.” He rubbed the frayed edge of the dictionary spine. “She wouldn’t shut up.”

“We don’t get a lot of new people in this valley. I’m sure she was just curious who you are and where you came from.”

“She asked a lot of questions.”

“I hope you were nice to her. The Petersons are good neighbors and it was generous of them to lend us their horse.” At Will’s curt nod of agreement, Amalia said, “Let’s go hitch that wagon. We should be able to get one cartload before sundown, and we’ll do the rest in the morning.”

Will stood up, hesitated, then pulled the paper from under the dictionary and shoved it in a pocket. “You going to want me to take the horse back tomorrow?”

“I think it would be best, since we won’t need it any more. Don’t you agree?”

“I guess. It’s just—”

“What?”

Will drew the crumpled paper out of his pocket and handed it to her in frustration. “She gave me this, and I don’t know what to do with it.”

Amalia scanned the brief note, her lips twitching with the effort to keep from laughing. “I don’t think you have to do anything with it, Will. It just says—”

“No!” He grabbed it out of her hand. “Don’t tell me. Just show me where the words are in the dictionary so I can figure it out for myself.”

Amalia considered. The note was only a few sentences and the longest word was “horse.” If such simplicity was beyond his ability, it was going to take more than a dictionary to help him puzzle it out. “I suppose you think you should have an answer when you go back?”

“That’s how you do it, right?” He folded the paper neatly this time, caressing the creases like a treasure. “No one’s ever wrote me a letter before.” He gazed up at Amalia, his gray eyes suddenly vulnerable. “You’ll help me write a letter back, won’t you? She acted like I was smart and if she finds out…”

“She won’t think you’re stupid. But if this is what it’ll take to get you to read—”

“Just this kind of stuff.” He dropped the note back in his pocket. “I don’t want to read those big books like what you read.”

“Okay.” She started for the door, motioning for him to follow. “What kinds of words do you want to learn first?" she asked as they walked the path to the barn. "Should I teach you to spell ‘pretty?’”

“No.”

She gave him a sly smile. “How about ‘girlfriend?’”

“No!”

“So what do you want to say?”

“Just ‘thanks for the horse.’”

“Hm.” Amalia nodded wisely.

“And maybe ‘nice.’ That’s an easy word, right?”

They were at the barn now and went inside. Will headed toward the tack room with an air of quiet authority. “You’ll let me do the writing part myself, though. And you won’t tell her I needed help.”

“Of course not.”

“No one’s ever acted like I was smart before.”

“I think you’re smart.”

“It’s not the same.”

“You're right.” Amalia watched him take the harness off the peg, marveling that three sentences from a ten year-old girl had achieved what months of badgering had failed to accomplish. To Diana, it was probably just a few careless words on paper— a fun way to practice between lessons. But for Will, who might finally learn to read more than his name, the note was transformative.

Amalia smiled in the dusty gloom of the barn, resolving to never again doubt the power of letters on paper.

Love Not Wisely (A Will and Diana Adventure)

NOTE: New readers may want to read up on Will and Diana's world before proceeding.

Will and Diana moved silently through the darkness with only the pale light of a solar lantern to illuminate the path to their tent. Once inside, Will took off his boots and began arranging his guns, canteen and lantern beside his pallet. Diana slipped out of her moccasins and dragged her pillow and blankets to make a nest beside him.

Lately Amalia had been trying to make them sleep apart, reminding them that they weren’t children any more. Diana thought being sixteen was a silly reason not to sleep with the young man she thought of as a brother and she subverted Amalia's orders at every opportunity.

“So what should we do?” she said as she settled herself on her blanket.

“Nothing. It’s none our business.”

“But she's—” Diana raised herself on an elbow. “You know. And with our commanding officer, of all people.”

“It’s not like we’re a real military unit.” Will's weapons were now as he liked them and he sat down. “What’s that word Mother uses to describe us?”

“Mercenaries?”

“No, the other word.”

“Guerrillas?”

“We’re not monkeys. Quit making fun of me.” Before Diana could answer, he remembered. “Insurgents. That’s what she calls us.”

Diana flopped on her back and stretched her arms overhead. “What does a word have to do with anything?”

“It means we’re not real enough for it to matter who Mother sleeps with.” He lay beside her and Diana snuggled against him like she always did.

“I feel real,” she said. “And what they were doing in there sounded pretty real, too.”

“As long as Mother’s happy, that’s all that matters. She’s had a hard life.”

“So have we.”

“Which is why we shouldn’t mess it up for her.”

“Okay. It’s going to be hard not to say anything, though.” She moved against him in a way that wasn’t intended to be suggestive, but aroused him nonetheless. By the time Will regained control of his desires, Diana was asleep in his arms. He tried to doze too, lulled by the warmth of her body and the faint whisper of her breath.

An hour later they were awakened by a movement of the canvas tent flap and the sound of tentative footsteps. Will pushed Diana aside and sat up.

Amalia froze. “You’re supposed to be asleep.”

“We were,” Diana said, blinking in the glow of Amalia’s lantern. “But you—”

“We’re glad you’re back,” Will interrupted. “We were worried.” He lay down and pulled Diana to him.

“I’m fine. Go back to sleep.” Amalia set down her solar lantern and fumbled with her shoes. “And Diana, I believe your bed is supposed to be on the other side of the tent.”

Before Will could silence her, Diana blurted out, “And yours is supposed to be here, not with Harley.”

“I’m a grown woman. I’ll sleep wherever I want.”

“And now that I’m old enough to go on missions and shoot people, so will I.”

Will squeezed her arm, silencing her. Then to Amalia he said, “Maybe we should talk about this in the morning. How about you read to us?”

It was their nightly tradition that Amalia read aloud, but Will had never acted like he enjoyed it. After giving him a suspicious glance, Amalia drew the lantern closer and reached for her Bible.

“You have nothing to repent, Mother.”

She and Will locked eyes. Slowly, Amalia put the Bible away and reached for her only other book, a volume of Shakespeare.

“No Romeo and Juliet, okay?”

Diana stifled a giggle.

Amalia opened the book and flipped through the pages in annoyance. “It’s not like that at all.”

“What is it, then?” Diana asked.

“None of your business.” Amalia slammed the book shut and turned off the lantern. She lay down but sleep didn’t come. Instead she listened in growing exasperation to the rustle of whispers from the other side of the tent. “If you two aren’t going to sleep,” she finally said, “Go trade watch duty with someone who’ll show a little gratitude to be offered a chance to rest.”

Silence. Then a shifting of blankets and the soft sound of footsteps.

“I’m sorry,” Diana said, kneeling by her side. “We didn’t mean to make you mad.”

“We like Harley,” Will added, coming to sit beside her, too. “And if you’re happy, we’re happy.”

Amalia sighed. “As your guardian, I’m supposed to set a better example than this.”

Had there been enough light to see by, Will and Diana would’ve looked at each other in confusion.

“Why is it wrong if you like each other?” Diana asked.

“My parents used to yell and beat each other up,” Will said. “You’re a lot better example than that.”

“And my mom never did find another man after my father was drafted,” Diana reminded her. “I think you’re lucky.”

“But I’ve tried to teach you. . .and the Bible says. . . .”

“Someone must’ve wrote it down wrong,” Will said. “It makes no sense that God would want things to be hard for us.”

Diana leaned forward, her voice conspiratorial in the dark. “Are you in love, Auntie?”

“If he breaks your heart, I’ll kill him for you,” Will offered.

“What kind of values are you learning?” Amalia sat up. “Turn on the lantern. And hand me my Shakespeare.”

“You’re not going to read Romeo and Juliet, are you?”

“No. Now go back to bed. And Diana—”

“I’ll sleep where I want,” she said, guessing what was coming next.

“You don’t want everyone knowing that you sleep where you want, do you?” Will added. "It would be bad for camp morale."

Out-maneuvered, Amalia watched in dismay as Diana settled under her blankets, pressing against Will for warmth and oblivious to the way he was looking at her. "Fine," she said, opening her book. "Then we'll read of those who 'love not wisely but too well.'" Getting only blank looks in reply, she found the tragedy she was looking for and began reading.

Something Old, Something New(A Will and Diana Adventure)

Will was walking back to camp after watch duty when he came upon Diana and Sachi leaning on the corral fence, talking and sipping coffee.

“What’s up, ladies? Nice morning.”

“I guess.” Diana frowned, her thoughts elsewhere. “Mouse isn’t happy, and the wedding is tomorrow.”

“She thinks she’s cursed,” Sachi added.

“There's no such thing as curses.”

“Oh, yes there is. She’s supposed to wear something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue,” Sachi said. “She doesn’t have a ‘something new.’ Her marriage is doomed.”

“It was probably doomed anyway,” Will said. “She’s been fighting longer than any of us. No way is she going to enjoy living in town playing stepmom to some Resource War vet’s brats.”

“And mom to her own,” Diana reminded him.

“Well, there you go. The baby is something new, isn’t it?”

Sachi sighed. “It has to be something you wear. Carrying it in your belly doesn’t count.”

“What about her wedding dress? It’s new.”

“No, it’s old. Mouse bought it from a used clothing vendor.”

“It’s new to her.”

The girls shook their heads as if he was stupid.

“How about some new socks? Mother gave me some and I haven’t worn them yet. I’d be happy to—”

“Wool socks?” The girls looked at him as if he had lost his mind.

“Believe me, the last thing her husband will a damn about on his wedding night is what’s on her feet.”

“Never mind,” Diana said. “Forget we said anything.” She slipped through the bars of the fence and went to check on her horse.

Sachi made to follow, pausing to add, “Weddings are girl stuff, Will. Don’t even bother trying to understand.”

At lunchtime, Diana noticed Will talking to Boeing, but didn’t think anything of it. Sachi saw them ride away in the afternoon but it didn’t seem noteworthy. The young men returned at suppertime, smug and smirking, and sat near Mouse, teasing her about the wedding. Mouse picked at her food, then gave her plate to a camp supporter and walked away.

After supper, several girls congregated in Mouse’s tent for one last night of girl talk, reliving old raids and spy missions, and offering encouragement for her future. They were asking for stories about her husband-to-be when Will and Boeing burst in.

“Break up your little hen party,” Boeing said. “We’ve got business with the bride.”

“Go away,” Sachi said, “We don’t need more bad luck by having men around.”

Diana and the other girls agreed, but Mouse waved them away. “I’m tired. If they want to talk to me alone for a few minutes, let them talk. I’ll see you in the morning.”

The girls filed out, whispering and casting suspicious glances over their shoulders. Sachi and Diana ducked behind a nearby creosote bush and waited to see what would happen next. Will and Boeing didn't stay long, and soon they emerged from the tent and began walking up the path, apparently pleased with themselves.

Sachi wanted to ask Mouse what happened, but Diana stopped her. “We don’t want her knowing we spied. I’ll ask Will when we’re alone. He’ll tell me.”

To Diana’s surprise, he didn’t. Although she pouted and pestered, the most he would say was, “We gave her a wedding gift. If you want to know more, ask her.”

When the girls showed up at Mouse’s tent the next morning, they found her already dressed, humming a cheerful tune.

“What happened with Will and Boeing last night?” Sachi asked.

“Will said they gave you a present,” Diana added. “What was it?”

Mouse gave a mysterious smile. “Let’s just say my wedding’s not cursed any more.”

“Will didn’t give you his socks, did he?” Diana asked. “Let me see your feet.”

Amused, Mouse lifted the hem of her skirt. “No new socks. I swear.”

“Then what—”

“Come on, help me with my hair like you promised. There isn’t much time.”

The girls hurried to get Mouse’s hair arranged and were helping with her borrowed turquoise jewelry when the cart pulled up, ready to take Mouse to the church. Some of the other girls had decorated it with ribbons and desert cactus blooms, and everyone from camp who could be spared waited on horseback, ready to provide an escort for her final departure from their unit.

Will handed Diana her horse and she swung into the saddle, still no wiser about the change in Mouse’s mood. As the procession started toward town, she pulled in close to Will. “What was it you gave her?”

“You didn’t see?”

“If I had, I wouldn’t be asking.”

“I thought you girls showed off those sorts of things.”

“Quit being mysterious. What kinds of things?”

“You know Boeing’s been seeing that girl in town. . .”

“He sees lots of girls.”

“The one who does fancy lace stuff.”

“Mouse wasn’t wearing any lace.”

“You know,” Will said, “You’re the smartest girl I ever met, but you’re still pretty dense sometimes.” While Diana sputtered for an answer, Will jerked on the reins. Just before he kicked his horse into a trot he added, “She makes lace stuff for the girls at the brothel. And if you can’t figure it out now, you’re hopeless.”

Diana watched him move ahead and pulled her kerchief over her nose and mouth, not because of the desert dust but to hide an attack of giggles.

Sachi trotted up. “What is it? Did he tell you?”

Diana nodded. “He told me. And it sounds like Mouse’s marriage will be lucky, after all.”

Christmas at the Old Motel(a Will and Diana Adventure)

Wind was blowing through the broken window again. Before Amalia could get up, Diana set her knitting aside and wedged the rags back in place. She paused, peering out the grimy pane of glass.

“They’ll be back when they can,” Amalia told her.

“I don’t know why you wouldn’t let me go with them.”

“It’s Unitas’ rule, not mine.”

Diana gave her a disgusted look. “You could’ve told Harley I was the same age as Will.”

“Honesty is the best policy.” Amalia bent back over her journal.

Diana returned to her seat of duffel bags and an old seat cushion and picked up her knitting. “Well, you won’t be able to stop me next year. I’ll be old enough to go on all the same missions Will goes on. Even the dangerous ones.”

Amalia’s shoulders tightened and her pen quit moving. “And if something happened to you, your family—”

“Would still be dead.”

“I suppose so.” Amalia began writing again.

Diana examined her knitting and tried to pick up where she left off, but she kept dropping stitches and finally set the shapeless project aside.

“Why don’t you fletch a few arrows?”

“Don’t feel like it.”

“Take a nap. I’ll wake you for your turn on watch.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Would you like me to read to you?”

“No.” Diana got to her feet and paced the cold, narrow room.

“If you can’t find a useful project I can make sure you get assigned one.”

Diana sat down and sullenly picked up her knitting again. “I just want Will to come back.”

Amalia didn’t answer.

“What kind of dumb mission takes place over Christmas? Last year all the groups called a truce and we played soccer with the snipers from Hispanos Unidos.”

“And by New Year’s they had shot three of our camp supporters. We can't trust anyone.”

“So why did you let Will go? He's my best friend and he's the closest thing I’ve got to family and—”

Amalia’s voice took on an edge. “You’ve got me.”

“It's not the same. Some fucking Christmas this is.”

“Diana.” Amalia turned intense eyes upon her. “You obviously need constructive work to do. Go help Paloma with supper.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Go now, or I’ll make sure you get assigned something you’ll like even less.”

Diana spent the rest of the afternoon tending fires and stoking improvised brick ovens in the shelter of a collapsed wing of the motel. Finally it was time to go on watch. With a pocket full of dry cornbread, she went to her station on a low wall at the entrance to the motor court. Now that she had access to binoculars, she scanned the horizon anxiously. But she saw neither friends nor enemies, only the blank scrubland stretching toward the distant mesas.

As the sun set and a light snow began to fall, her hope faded that Will and the rest of their party might make it back for Christmas Eve. When Ikea relieved her, she handed over the binoculars and trudged back to the room she shared with Auntie.

As she stepped inside, she sucked in her breath. On the wobbly dresser, Amalia had arranged some branches of mesquite and lit her two precious wax candles, their light reflecting like stars in the dusty mirror. Occupying pride of place was a bundle wrapped in cloth and tied with a fraying ribbon.

At Diana’s questioning look, Amalia ducked her head. “I know we said we’d wait until Will came back. So consider it a surprise from Santa.”

“I’m a little old for Santa.” She picked up the gift. “Maybe I should open it later. I don’t have yours ready yet.”

“Santa gave me what I wanted.” Amalia sat on the edge of the musty bed and motioned Diana to her. “You seem to forget you're not the only one who has no home or kin. I know I'm hard on you sometimes, but you're my family now, and when I think what it would mean to lose you. . .”

Diana stared in silence as Amalia looked away, sniffling. Auntie never cried, not even on the day she buried her own sister. “I'm sorry.” She threw her arms around her. “I don't know what makes me so selfish. It's a good Christmas, just us together. Really.”

Diana opened her present, which consisted of some much-needed socks and a warm knit cap. Then Amalia read the nativity story from the Bible while Diana dozed beside her on the bed. Finally Amalia put the book away and they slept huddled in their patched wool blankets while snowflakes drifted lazily outside the window.

Just before sunrise, a soft sound awakened her and Diana opened one eye to see the door swing inward. Thinking it was the wind, she stumbled to her feet to close it.

A shadow in the doorway gave her pause. “You came back!”

Will was filthy and damp with melting snow, but he grabbed Diana tight, as if he might pull her into his body so he could have her with him always. Over the top of her head, he met Amalia’s suspicious eyes.

“Are you AWOL?”

Will limped to the bed, carrying a saddlebag. “I'm heading straight back after breakfast. What’s Harley going to do? Kick me out?” He reached into his bag and produced two paper-wrapped packages. “For my favorite ladies. Merry Christmas.”

Amalia’s eyes narrowed. “How did you get—?”

“Does it matter?”

“Stealing is no way to celebrate the birth of our Savior.”

“You know I don't care about that Baby Jesus stuff.” He opened his arms for Diana to sit on his lap, where he kissed her hair and wrapped her braid around a chilblained hand. “Aren't you going to open your present?”

“This is my present.” She looked to Amalia for approval. “Isn't that what's important? That we lost our families but made our own, instead?”

Amalia was examining her gift, frowning as if she might have something else to say about it. But instead her features softened and she put it aside. “Of course,” she said. “Being with the ones we love is the best gift of all.”

The Sniper (a "Will and Diana" Adventure)

It started with a ping off the dutch oven. A musical note, it startled Cascabel as she was about to crack an egg. A few feet away, Macy looked up from the coffee grinder with a frown.

The second bullet zipped past Cascabel's arm like a bee. She dropped the egg and clutched her shoulder.

“Get down!” Paloma shoved Cascabel to the ground while Macy shrieked and scurried behind a donkey cart.

There was a rustle in the nearest tent and Ikea poked her head out the flap. A bullet punctured the canvas inches from her face. With a gasp she ducked back inside, but her action had given Paloma and Cascabel enough time to hurry to the shelter of Macy’s cart. Ikea fired some warning shots, sounding the alarm.

In a tent at the edge of camp, Will sat up with a start. He grabbed the rifle he kept by his side and scrambled to his feet, stepping into his moccasins as he ran outside. Diana tried to follow, but Amalia grabbed her arm and jerked her back.

Will heard them arguing as he zig-zagged toward the shelter of a crumbling wall. He hoped Amalia would keep Diana away. Although he trusted his adoptive sister’s aim, it made him crazy when someone took shots at her, and bringing down a sniper would require he keep his cool.

He stopped to collect his thoughts as bullets chipped harmlessly at the other side of the wall. How the hell had someone gotten close enough to fire on their camp? And was it a loner, or part of an advance group for an enemy unit?

A few feet away, Sachi waved to him from behind the shelter of a metal drum. She made hand signals that Will thought he understood, then fired in the direction the shots seemed to be coming from. Her distraction drew the sniper’s fire and Will made a run for it.

It took only a few minutes of ducking and dodging to get out of the line of fire, but it felt like hours before he was safely scrambling up the hillside behind the cover of some creosote and mesquite. Although he couldn’t make out the marksman’s exact position, he suspected he was hiding somewhere along the ridge of flattened space where a road used to wind through these sand hills.

He was almost over the spot when he came upon Boeing taking temporary shelter behind a rock. “What the hell’s going on?” Will asked.

“Seems to be just one. Got past the Javelina somehow.”

“He better have shot him,” Will muttered. “’Cause if any of our people get killed, I’ll slit Javelina’s fucking throat.”

The two young men advanced slowly, sometimes crouching, sometimes dragging themselves through the brush on their bellies, until they finally made out their target—a dark-hatted figure in bandoliers taking aim at the camp from behind a rusted pickup truck.

Just as Will and Boeing raised their guns to their shoulders, a shadow rustled the nearby scrub. They cursed and were about to fire when they realized it was only Javier. “We were hoping you were dead,” Will said. With a snort of disgust, he turned back to the sniper

It was never clear whether it was his shot or Boeing’s that laid the sniper flat against the rusting metal, but what neither of them doubted was that Javier’s shot was an afterthought, punctuating the body with a superfluous hole after the real work had been done.

It was Javier who was first down the trail to the sniper’s perch, where he shot the marksman a few extra times with his pistol.

“Quit wasting ammo,” Boeing said.

“If you’d done your job and kept proper watch—”

“Me? He came up on your side, asshole!”

While they shouted at each other, Will turned the body over. “Shit. He’s just a kid.” He started checking the boy’s gear and clothing for signs of group affiliation.

“What’s he got?” Javier forced his way forward and shoved his hand in one of the boy’s pockets. With a pleased smile he withdrew a few silver coins.

“That belongs to the group,” Will said.

“No, it belongs to me. For the trouble I had to go to to kill the little bastard.”

Boeing lunged toward him. “You didn’t do jack, Javelina—”

Before he could say any more, Will’s fist connected with Javier’s gut, knocking the wind out of him with a gasp. “You’re such an asshole.” He picked up the coins where they had spilled on the ground, then returned to the matter at hand. “I don’t see any evidence the kid had affiliation,” he told Boeing as Javier lay wheezing at his feet.

“Probably a lone troublemaker.”

Will examined the sniper’s face, the blunted boyish features innocent in repose. “We’ll take him down to camp and make sure he gets a decent burial.”

From where he was still trying to catch his breath, Javier gasped, “Let the fucker rot. He wanted to kill us.”

Boeing kicked Javier in the ribs, then helped Will pick up the body. “This kid wasn’t a half bad shot,” he said as they stumbled down the trail. "I wonder why he did it.”

“No telling.”

“Maybe he had something to prove.”

Will adjusted his footing in a patch of loose gravel. He thought of Macy and Cascabel and wondered if there would still be coffee and eggs. “He only proved he could shoot at women making breakfast. That’s nothing special.”

“And it's a dumb way to die,” Boeing added.

Flash Fiction Interlude: Hunger (A Will and Diana Adventure)

Diana bent over the cluster of spiny cactus pads, searching for the best one. “Best” was a relative term. Not only were the nopales a detestable food that she hadn’t liked even before it became this summer’s staple, but this patch was particularly poor; the pads were thin and wrinkled, with black spots of spreading rot. She selected one that was less pock-marked than the rest, sliced it off and dropped it in her bag.

She stood and stretched her aching back. Around her, the other girls worked listlessly. They were thin and dispirited after a long summer stationed at this remote site, waiting for the invading armies of Texas and Mexico to make the next move. In the meantime, food had run scarce and game died from drought.

Diana adjusted her thick gloves and bent back over the cactus. In spite of the weak rumble of her stomach, the nopales didn’t appeal. Her thoughts drifted to a cache of lizard eggs she had found a few weeks ago. She had been less hungry then, and the soft-boned proto-lizards had sufficiently repulsed her that she hadn’t tried to eat them. Now she would gladly eat a lizard in any stage of gestation, goo and all. But as she scanned the dusty, rock-strewn field, she saw no sign that anything lived here other than the wretched nopales.

“Think we got enough?” One of the girls removed a glove and fanned herself. “Maybe they’ll let us have some of that soup before the boys get back and eat it all.”

“Caldo de huesos,” Diana’s friend Sachi muttered as she examined a pad for rot. “My favorite.”

Diana silently agreed. The weak broth of nettles and boiled rabbit bones was hardly anything to look forward to. “Better than nothing.”

“But not better than posole.”

“Or roast chicken,” another girl said.

“Or a thick goat stew with potatoes and carrots, and—”

“Stop that,” Diana said, tying off her bag. “You know what Harley said. No talking about food we don’t have.”

“Well if he’d let us take what we needed from that ranch on the other side of the arroyo, we wouldn’t be so hungry,” Sachi pointed out. “It’s not like they’re going to miss one of their skinny cows, anyway. They’re probably all gristle and will die before the summer is out.”

The other girls murmured in agreement as they headed back to camp to turn over their nopales to the camp supporters who would strip them of spines and cook them.

As Diana gave her sack to Aunt Amalia, she averted her eyes and shied away from the hand that reached to comfort her. For the last several days Auntie had been looking at her strangely, as if hunger was a visible thing etched in her face. And last night as Diana snuggled against Will for warmth in the cool desert air, he had run a hand across her hip and expressed concern at the way her bones jutted sharp underneath her skin.

“They’re not very good,” Diana said of the nopales, hoping to avoid a personal discussion.

“Just don’t overcook them,” Sachi said to no one in particular. “I hate it when they get slimy.”

“Don’t worry,” Amalia told her. “We’ll roast them. And Harley got a snake for the soup pot.”

“A big one?” a girl asked hopefully.

Amalia picked up Diana’s sack. “We take what we can get.”

Diana and Sachi exchanged a glance. Where there was one snake, perhaps there would be others. “Where did he find it? We’ll go see if there's more,” she said.

“Just be back in time for your turn on watch. And bring some Russian thistle for the horses.”

Sachi and Diana headed out on foot. Once they were beyond the immediate camp environs, they drew their guns and began scanning the ground for signs of life. They tracked west for half an hour without seeing anything. When they came to one of the arroyos bordering the nearby ranch, they slid down the bank and began following its twists and turns. After a few minutes they came across boot prints and their hopes fell. If the boys had already passed this way, it wasn't likely there would be any game.

They were about to turn back when they heard voices.

“You look like a fucking cannibal, man.”

“And what do you think you look like?”

“Hold it steady so I can get another piece.”

Around the bend Will and two other boys huddled over the carcass of a spotted calf. Blood soaked the parched soil and flies buzzed over a glistening pile of entrails.

The boys looked up. Their hands and mouths were dripping red and they tightened their grip on their knives. But seeing it was only Sachi and Diana, they relaxed and waved them forward.

“It would've died anyway, so it's not really rustling," Aguilero said. "But still, don’t tell."

“Oh, God, no.” Sachi cut a strip of bloody flank and shoved it in her mouth. “I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks.”

“Harley’s got the right idea about principles,” Will said, “But there’s gotta be limits.”

“I don't want to starve over someone's idea of right and wrong,” Boeing agreed. He dug into the calf’s open belly and sliced off a piece of liver. “Here you go, baby.” He dangled it in front of Sachi’s lips. “And if you come by my tent tonight, I’ll have some other organ meat for you.”

While the others ate and teased each other, Will drew Diana away. In the shade of a rock was an oozing leather pouch. “I was going to bring you this.”

Diana opened it and stared for a moment at the quivering mass of raw meat. Her mind flashed back on her other life, on who she had been before the Guard destroyed her home and killed her family. She had a fleeting impression of eggs scrambled with chiles, of beans and summer squash, and of honey drizzled over corn cakes hot from the oven. How had she come to this?

A wave of dizziness hit her. She scooped a handful of the bleeding flesh and devoured it.