Part Two, Chapter One

There was just enough light to see by as Donovan guided his team onto the road that lead through the valley and onto a narrow trace northwest. At first he tried to engage Carina in conversation, but she huddled in her cloak, answering only in monosyllables. Finally Donovan fell silent and watched the terrain, letting his mind wander.

At noon they stopped in a field for lunch. Carina climbed down from the wagon and laid out some food while Donovan fed and watered the animals. He joined Carina on the heavy Indian blanket, noting that she was still wearing her cloak.

"It's warmed up a little. Aren't you hot?"

Carina unclasped the cloak and laid it aside. In her badly-dyed dress and with the wind blowing through her shorn hair, she looked like a homeless child. She picked up a boiled egg and peeled it, spending an inordinate amount of time examining it for eggshell. Then she lost interest, set it aside and folded her hands in her lap.

"You have to eat something."

She picked up the egg again, then sighed and set it back down.

"Try a tortilla."

Carina picked one up, examined it, then tore off a strip. She was still nibbling the edges by the time Donovan finished his meal. He got to his feet, went to the wagon and returned with a cup. "Drink this."

Carina sniffed at the contents.

"It's vitamins. Amalia said to give it to you if you wouldn't eat." When she still hesitated, he added, "We're not continuing until you drink it."

She drank without griping, as if eager to get the matter over with, then handed back the cup and set her half-eaten tortilla aside.

"Finish that, too. You can keep eating along the way."

Carina slipped the scrap of food in her pocket, then began putting things into baskets and boxes, which Donovan loaded into the cart. He helped her onto the seat, got the jennies hitched again, and they continued on their way.

By late afternoon they were in the mesas. It was colder here and the wind whipped about, carrying dust and small pebbles. As the sun dipped lower Donovan pondered their options. They needed a place to camp for the night.

"There's an abandoned rancho nearby," Carina said, as if reading his thoughts. "There'll be another road about half a mile on. When we get there, turn right."

It was the most she had said all day and he turned to thank her, but Carina was wrapped in her cloak again, brooding. When he found the turnoff, it was hardly a road, but merely another wagon path like the one they had been following. Soon he started to see fence posts denuded of barbed wire and leaning at crazy angles. There were piñones too, twisted from the wind but heavy with nut-bearing cones. Donovan made a mental note to pick a few on the way out, if they had time. They would make a nice snack for the road.

Finally they came around a bend and saw it up ahead— a rambling stone edifice ringed by low walls of melting adobe. From a distance the house looked intact, but as they drew near, it became obvious it had been abandoned for a long time.

Windowpanes and parts of the roof were missing. The wall of one wing had collapsed, and doors hung awkwardly on their hinges. Donovan shivered and wondered if this place was haunted, but it was too late to go somewhere else. He looked around, hoping to find a barn or even a pump house that might offer a more hospitable shelter, but the outbuildings appeared to have been made of wood and adobe. Unmaintained, they had crumbled, leaving only the stone mansion.

Donovan pulled the wagon to the great double doors. "Are you sure..."

"People have been stopping here for years." Carina climbed down and pushed against the doors. One opened easily and she propped it with a stone. The other caught and Donovan helped her with it. Inside was a tiled foyer, once elegant but now covered in grime. A staircase with a heavy oak banister spiraled toward a second floor obscured by darkness. All around were shadows and a penetrating, musky odor.

Carina was impervious to it all. "Bring the animals in. I'll show you where to put them." Without waiting for an answer, she moved into the darkness.

Donovan unhitched Goneril and Regan, tied one behind the other and led them up the steps into the hallway. He half-expected them to balk, but they seemed unperturbed by their strange surroundings and glad of a chance to get out of the wind. He had the foresight to bring one of the lanterns, and a good thing because Carina was nowhere to be found. He called her name and heard a faint response toward the darkest recesses of the house. He led the animals across the littered floor and down a hallway. He peered inside a few rooms along the way but saw only broken furniture, a cracked and cobwebbed sink stripped of its faucets, and floors covered in trash.

"Carina?"

"Over here."

He turned a corner and found himself in a larger room with a long sofa in one corner, its cushions slashed and missing their stuffing, and on the other side a great hulking entertainment center, still cluttered with television, speakers and other media. Donovan found electronics more disturbing than any other remnants of the oil years because they gave the impression of having once been alive. When Carina emerged out of the shadows with her ashen skin and dark cloak, his breath caught as if he were seeing a ghost.

Just as quickly, he came back to his senses. "What are you doing? There could be anyone hiding back here. Or anything."

She ignored him and took hold of a bridle. Beyond this room was another that had clearly been used as a stall for animals before, because the floor was littered with old hay and manure. A few high windows let in the last of the daylight, casting everything in gray. "They'll be safe back here," she said. "It's not likely anyone else will come around, but if there's a crisis or anything, we'll be able to handle it before anyone can get to our animals."

Donovan nodded, seeing the wisdom in what had before seemed a perversely random decision. They made their way back to the wagon, and while he brought in feed for the animals, Carina carried in the smaller necessities for the evening.

That night they had an uneasy meal at a heavy oak table in the Spanish Gothic dining room. Again Carina only picked at her food. Having no more need to give instructions, she had lapsed back into silence and single-syllable answers. To Donovan, it was like dining with the sullen spirit of a disapproving ancestor. After dinner he checked on the animals, since Carina remained oddly perfunctory about their welfare. Then, there being nothing else to do, he joined her in the front room where she had laid out their bedrolls on top of a musty mattress that had been dragged there years ago by other travelers.

He found her lying on her side, head propped on her bundled cloak, staring at her open Bible by the dim light of her lantern. Donovan set down his own lantern and got underneath the covers. "Would you like to read to me a little?"

She closed the book. "No." She switched off the light, then lay on her back, eyes closed. "I'm not like Amalia. I can only find the depressing parts."

Donovan looked at her face. The shadows of his lamp made her eyes look sunken, almost as if she were dead. Disturbed, he turned off the light. Immediately the darkness pressed in on him, complete and overwhelming. Tiny sounds magnified, and the notion that this place was haunted returned. He tried to close his eyes and sleep, but his unease was too powerful to put aside. His shotgun lay on the floor beside him. He touched it and was slightly reassured, but still he couldn't relax.

In the darkness, he heard Carina breathing, and it wasn't the deep, regular breath of sleep. He found her body in the dark, reaching for her as if to comfort her, but really seeking release from his own fears. "Are you okay? Are you cold? Is there anything--"

"I'm fine. Please don't touch me." She rolled on her side, turning her back to him.

Donovan waited until he was certain she had at last fallen asleep, then lit his lantern again and found his way to the wagon. By moonlight, he located the bottle of hard cider he had stashed and took several long pulls. When at last he felt its glow spreading through his body, he went back into the house, no longer caring what spirits might inhabit it. He crawled inside his bedroll, turned off his light and went to sleep.

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