Free Relic by Renee Collins Page A

I were smarter or clever with a craft, I could earn us enough money to live together somewhere nice. Be a proper family.”
    “You seem pretty sharp to me.”
    “I’m not. Trust me. My reading and letters are weak. I could never teach. And I can’t sew a button for anything. All I know about are relics, and a lot of good that will do a girl like me, without two pennies to rub together.”
    Landon was quiet for a moment, shuffling his hat in his hands. “What happened to your parents?”
    The words came slowly. “They died with everyone else in the Haydenville razing.”
    Landon exhaled and scraped a hand through his hair. “Aw, Maggie, I’m sorry.”
    I shook my head. The tenderness in his voice only sharpened my pain. His warm hand covered mine as he sat back, analyzing me in the dim candlelight. “You’re a brave girl, Maggie. I’m awful glad I stepped out to see the stars tonight.”
    My stomach fluttered a little. “I should get some sleep,” I said, too shy to meet his gaze.
    “Sounds good.”
    I lay down on the stiff cot, turning my back to Landon. But somehow, as I drifted off to sleep, I knew he was watching me.

Chapter Seven
    The tension from the night before still simmered in the streets of Burning Mesa the next day, thick as the smell of smoke that hung on the air. But Mr. Connelly insisted that was all the more reason for the show to go on. Adelaide’s weekend revue would continue as planned. I thought it seemed a rotten thing to demand of her after the scare we’d all had, but as usual, the crowds flocked to see Miss Adelaide Price. Apparently a little diversion was just what they were after.
    The saloon brimmed to overflowing with drunk miners and rowdy teenage boys. The alcohol flowed, and the poker games hummed. Adelaide’s show was set to start around ten, but by nine the room was packed. I scurried from table to table, taking orders, mopping up spilled drinks, and delivering vittles.
    The men, primed for a good time, watched me work with drunken smiles. Some even made lewd comments as I passed. A table of relic polish salesmen from across the Mexican border whistled and called me bonita . As I poured them more dragon whiskey, they insisted I was a señorita they’d known back in Nogales.
    I shook my head, smiling. “Don’t let this dark hair trick you. I’ve never even been out of the Territory.”
    “A shame, bonita ,” a handsome older man in the group said. “One day, you must see the Hermosillo Relic Fields. They are a sight to behold.”
    I nodded, smiling, but inside felt a twinge of sadness that I surely never would. I’d be lucky if I ever got to a new town, let alone a new country.
    At that moment, the house lights fell, snuffed out by a gust of wind from Mr. Connelly’s griffin relic. The little three-man-band rattled out a chord of heralding music. Cheers erupted from the audience as the red velvet curtains opened.
    But the stage was empty. The murmuring fell quiet as the crowd waited. And waited. Until somebody finally yelled, “Bring her out!”
    “Yeah, we want Adelaide!” another cried.
    The calls grew louder, and the suspense among the men heightened, until suddenly a single flame, the size of a candle’s flicker, appeared on the empty stage.
    “Look!” someone said.
    The little flame rippled for a moment, and then, with a flash of orange light, it exploded into an enormous blaze. Gasps of wonder erupted from the audience. And then, with a flourish of the band, Adelaide suddenly burst from the center, her arms flung out.
    The crowd went wild.
    The flames dropped to a small ring of fire around her. She stood in the center, beaming and bowing. After the cheering had died down a bit, the music started up. Adelaide began to sway her hips. She was draped in a long, fireproof cape, which she slowly began to shimmy out of. First, she revealed her bare shoulders. Then she pulled it up a little to show her legs. The men were howling by now, jumping up from their chairs.