Metal struck metal, hollow and violent, distinct and unmistakable, the cocking of a gun. It stopped Daelin Long’s heart as readily as the layoff notice texted by her former boss and supposed friend: mergr cuts = no room 4u. b gone bi 4. Not a sorry. No care taken to use proper English or spell all the words correctly. Not one answer to Daelin’s pleas. The absolute worst day of her life.
Her box of office things clutched in her cramping fingers, she had shuffled to the subway. Getting mugged at gunpoint on the platform, where she had lost her cashed severance pay, her cell phone, laptop, and even her stapler, had left her short of breath and babbling. Her younger sister had taken advantage when called via a borrowed landline, promising a safe haven. Here. Amid pine trees and rocks. Nowheresville, Oregon. Where Daelin thought she’d at least escape assholes and bullets. If she could swallow, she’d laugh.
Fine strands of black broke free from her updo and tangled in her mascara-lengthened eyelashes. Unbidden, the memory of burnt gunpowder from the worst day of her life assaulted her freefalling senses. Her hand froze around the ceramic frog.
“Turn around nice and slow, ladrón de rana.” The accusation of frog thief shook, high-pitched with gusts of fury.
The lawn ornament chirped out a chorus of gribbets when Daelin set it back in her sister’s garden. She raised her hands as she had three weeks ago, and just like then, they were defenseless save for dried sweat. Straightening to her full six foot height, she twisted around so slowly it’d frustrate a double semi colon.
“Whoa, you’re taller than Sabina. Never thought I’d see that. You’re obviously not from around here.” Inky curls tumbled around dark eyes that didn’t stay still. With the shotgun poised deftly in her hands, the tiny woman towered as a giant.
Daelin stared down the barrel. She fixated on it, unable to speak, unable to move. The wind picked up, carrying a frigid blast down from the snowy peaks, ignoring the arrival of late June.
At an elevation of almost four thousand feet, Settler, Oregon, ignored the seasons respected by the rest of the continent. Nestled inside an ancient volcano in the arid high desert, the area had a unique landscape. The remnants of the volcano had the names of Gold and Swit Peaks. They sat behind the town. Two kindly grandfathers keeping an eye on things. A cinder cone rose between two placid lakes to the west of the peaks, before the eroded line marking the other side of the old crater. Beyond it rose the snowcapped Cascade mountains. The town had established itself between the twin lakes and the twin peaks, snuggled into the perfect nook to enjoy all the splendor surrounding it.
Stiffening, Daelin expected to shiver from the wind. Instead, the slap of cool calmed her, soothed nerves raw from experiences three thousand miles away. The people she knew in the city had warned her about the wild west. Rightly so, it seemed. “M-my sister didn’t answer the door. I’ve been waiting over an hour. She told me how to find the spare key in case she wasn’t around.”
“You that Darling girl?” The barrel lowered. Her well-worn gray sweatshirt and khakis fluttered with the next gust, and delicate fingers, not made for pulling triggers, swept hair out of her elfin face. She appeared no older than Daelin. “¡Hola! I didn’t figure you for the fancy-pantsed type. Charming ain’t. You don’t look like the elder sister either.”
“Yes, that’s me. Darlin Dae Long. Everyone calls me Daelin. I’m only two years older than my sister.” She glanced down at her green T-shirt dress and flip flops, perplexed as to how anyone could label them as fancy. “Can I put my arms down now?”
“Charming and Darling. What was your mother thinking?” The woman aiming the shotgun stood as if she ate no more than one bean a day.
Daelin hoped her sister would come by soon, get her out of this lunacy, and lend her some cash and a sandwich. A nice thick sandwich. It was past noon, and she’d been on the road since five. “Our mother has no love for the conventional.”
“That’s obvious.” The wind threatened to whisk the young woman off to another place with no civilization, because Daelin hadn’t seen any since leaving Boise six and a half hours ago.
Over three hundred lonely miles had stretched between here and there. Sixty miles ago, the tips of the majestic Cascades had started to come into view. Daelin had heard cities thrived on the other side. Maybe she’d make it over there sooner rather than later. No way did her future reside in this tiny town.
“If you know Charming, then you know.” She licked at her lips, wishing she hadn’t let her sister talk her into this. However, Daelin had nowhere else to go and no better job prospects than the librarian position Charming had dangled like a juicy two pound Rueben. “Do you know where she is?”
Shotgun Evita held her finger up in the air then fished a baseball cap covered in foil out of her sweatshirt pocket, settling it over her messy curls. “Who?”
Searching for some possible explanation for the crazy hat, Daelin had to glance up. She hoped Shotgun Evita wasn’t representative of the typical Settler resident. “My sister. Do you know where my sister is?”
hapter 