The big black dog glowered out at the falling snow. He handled Sheriff Pearson’s big vehicle with a casual skill that Natividad found didn’t surprise her at all. But he evidently found talking a harder task. Eventually he said, “Grayson was married. His wife was a black dog woman. Of course they did not have children. Except one that was stillborn.”
Natividad said nothing, but her stomach clenched with sympathy. It was even worse for two black dogs to have children than for a black dog woman to have a child by a human man. The children of two black dogs, inheriting the shadow from both parents, would inevitably be eaten by their shadows way before they could grow up – all the boys, and most of the girls. Sometimes those infants really were stillborn, but black dogs who strove for basic human decency might also say stillborn when they meant they had killed such a child at birth. She found that she wasn’t at all surprised that Grayson Lanning had loved a fierce, angry, strong black dog woman, the sort of woman who could match his own ferocity and strength. But it also wouldn’t have surprised her, either, if he had spared such a woman as much as he could by taking on himself the worst duty that could face a black dog.
“She was killed early in the war,” Harrison said, and stopped.
“I’m sorry,” Natividad whispered. She was. That was terrible.
Harrison gave her a quick sideways scowl. “Grayson was going to come after you himself. I said I would come.” He stopped again.
Whatever he wanted to say was apparently hard for him to put into words. Natividad looked away from him, out her window, at the blowing snow and the naked trees, so that he might find it easier.
“You could hurt my brother badly,” Harrison said abruptly. “Especially if you thought he could not be hurt. He wants you to think he’s impervious. He wants everyone to think he’s impervious to everything. He is not. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Natividad said softly.
“When he looks at you, he sees every Dimilioc woman who died in the war. His wife, his baby daughter, he sees them both in you. All his hope for Dimilioc’s future. You are not to kill yourself by some stupidity, do you understand? Your death would hurt him. Or if you just do not care for Dimilioc, you could hurt him that way. Do you understand that?”
“Yes,” Natividad repeated. She found herself liking Harrison Lanning much more than she had expected she ever would. She said earnestly, “I understand you. I do. I want Dimilioc to prosper. I really do. I want everyone of Dimilioc to do well, to be happy.”
Harrison made a wordless sound, a sort of grunt. After a while he said curtly, “You’re still grounded. No straying from your room. No visitors.”
“Yes, but my brothers–”
“You will not need to speak to them. I will tell them so.” But at Natividad’s dismayed silence, Harrison relented enough to add, “Though your brother Alejandro may come to see you when he returns. For one minute.”
Even one minute was enough to make sure he was alright – enough for him to assure himself that she was alright. Natividad said, “Thank you,” in her very politest tone.
9
Alejandro stared into the freezing wind. He could see nothing useful in the blinding confusion of snow. He had no idea how Ezekiel had landed their plane in this weather and less how the verdugo could drive in it so casually. There were chains on the tires, he said. Alejandro wondered whether these were literal chains, and why they made it easier to drive. By improving the tires’ grip on the packed snow? Could the rounded links of chains actually help that way? But if the links were sharp, would they not destroy the tires?
Despite the special tires, Ezekiel had to constantly correct for the car sliding. All the way between Newport and Brighton, they passed trucks fitted with shovels to push the snow to the side of the road and other trucks throwing out what Ezekiel said was salt. Alejandro had no idea why salt was supposed to be helpful. Certainly neither salt nor shovel really cleared the road. Maybe nothing would clear it until spring.
Alejandro supposed that driving in the snow was something Americans naturally learned. Por otre parte, there were not many other cars on the road, so maybe even those who lived here didn’t like driving in this bad weather. He was glad he did not need to drive. If Ezekiel collapsed in exhaustion… but the verdugo provided proof against weariness or pain. He drove and moved exactly as though he had never been injured with Thaddeus’s silver knife. Alejandro could smell the blood and knew the cut had opened again, but neither the injury nor the hours of travel seemed to affect Ezekiel in the least.