“If straight’s cattywampus.” I cock my head to the side.
She pulls a notebook from her saddlebag and hands it to me. “Had a friend draw this. Someone good with glyphs and signs. Can almost read them like a second language.”
I peer at the drawing of the symbol in the field. Swirls radiating out from the center, almost like a diagram of an atom, or maybe…
“Sound waves,” I grunt.
Her eyes dart to me. “How do you know that?”
I shrug, not in the mood for a deep conversation.
But it’s still better than sayingnon-human. Or worse…alien.
Though I get the impression, that’s what some folks around here are hankering to hear.
Human nature. Always looking for what can’t be explained so they can kill it.
I chuckle to myself, shifting in the saddle. As if Raven’s Ridge could compete with the Extraterrestrial Highway or Area 51, anyway.
Eliza arches an eyebrow. “A penny for your thought.”
I frown. “I remember when those were worth something.”
Silence sits between us until her mouth starts working. Don’t want more blindsiding questions. Instead, I surrender to talking.
“That symbol reminds me of something I saw as a kid when the circus came through. A man who called himself a magician. Used to spread sand or salt in a tray,” my hands move now with the memory. “A real thin layer. Then he’d let different frequencies vibrate the sand or salt into visual patterns. Strangest thing I’d ever seen… well, apart from the mermaid.”
“Mermaid?”
“Little figure, about a foot high,” I say, motioning some more. “Half monkey, half fish. Taxidermied. Only fools and youngins—like me—fell for it.”
“Wait,” Eliza says, putting a finger to her lips in thought. “That used to be on display at the local museum. The mermaid freak show exhibit… before the government men came.”
I chuckle, taken aback by the statement. “You and I sharing a memory. Who’d’ve figured?” Thinking about something between us puts heat in my cheeks.
She snorts a laugh. “A real hoax. Used to scare the bejeezus out of me. That and the shrunken head.”
“Shrunken head?”
“Brought back by old McCormick. The richest ranch owner in town. World traveler in his later years.”
The breeze carries rain and sage, dark clouds gathering along the horizon.
I fix my gaze at her. “And what if all this weren’t a hoax?”
“What do you mean?”
Don’t know why, but I have to know. “What if everything you fear most, everything you can’t explain is real, Eliza? Could you sit with that?”
She doesn’t answer. I knew she wouldn’t.
But a part of me hoped.
I squeeze the saddle horn tighter, another surge of hunger passing through me. My skin sizzles beneath the cotton. I’d give anything for a dip in the watering hole, to give it a break.
“Another headache?” she asks.
Guilt squirms through me, mean and insistent. Had to come up with something to explain my feelings around her. Why I have to stay away… though I can’t.
