War Girls (The Juniper Wars Book 5) by Aaron Ritchey (find a book to read TXT) 📗

curses. A million oaths. I so wanted to tell them Alice was dead. And I wanted to tell them about the deal with Hoyt, but what if he were listening? I’d be killing us all. No, I had to stay in the U.S. and think up a plan.

It was then that I saw the path in front of me. I had watched Wren walk it, and I knew exactly what to say and what to do.

Cavvy wouldn’t have done it, but I wasn’t her anymore.

I lowered my head, sighed, and raised my chin. “I’m not Cavvy no more, and I ain’t a baby. Mama’s dead, our ranch is gone, and ain’t no way we can pay back Howerter. It’s over. Our family is over. And you can’t tell me what to do. I’m staying. You get on. You go.”

Pilate grabbed my arm. “This is ridiculous. We don’t belong here. We are going—”

I shoved him away. “You get off me. I’m not going back. You try make me, and I’ll fight you, Pilate. I’ll fight you with everything I got.”

“Cavvy—” Sharlotte started.

“I’m not Cavvy!” I shrieked. “I’m Cavatica, and goddammit, I ain’t going back. I’m done fighting! And I’m done with you!”

I paused, this next piece, this next chore, was a dark, cold thing. A part of me shrank from my own cold self. I glared at my big sister. “Damn, but you always wanna be in charge, don’t you? Well, you were always a piss-poor leader. Like that time you left during the cattle drive.” I forced a harsh laugh out of my clutching throat. “I can’t believe you left us like that. Well, how does it feel now? I’m leaving, and you can’t do jack about it.”

Those words would push her away and leave me alone. I’d watched Wren do it all her life.

Sharlotte’s face pinched in hurt. “Please, Cavatica.”

An electronically amplified voice echoed through the flat cold. It was so loud. It hurt my ears so much. “THE FENCE WILL BE CLOSED IN SIXTY SECONDS. ANY UNAUTHORIZED PERSONS ON UNITES STATES SOIL WILL BE THOROUGHLY INVESTIGATED AND PROCESSED. THIS WILL BE YOUR ONLY WARNING.”

“I ain’t going and you can’t make me.” Those last four words, you can’t make me, was one of many of our unofficial Weller family mottos.

“Stay with her, Pilate,” Sharlotte said. “Take care of her. And if you can convince her to come back, you’ll find us in Denver. Can you do that for me, Pilate?”

“No, he can’t,” I said. “Pilate is going with you.”

“Yeah, you’ll crap too if you eat enough” Pilate smirked. “You can push your sister away, but not me. I know the game too well. I’m staying.”

Automatically, the fence rolled closed. From the spikes at the bottom to the razor wire up top, the metal shook and chimed like bells even as it slid shut.

Sharlotte stepped forward and put her hands near the diamond-shaped openings in the chain-link.

“Careful,” June Mai murmured. “It’s electrified.”

Confusion and pain shadowed my sister’s face. “Say goodbye to me, Cavatica. You’ll regret it if you don’t. I love you. Even if you don’t love me.”

I wanted to fall apart and explain everything, but I couldn’t. Hoyt’s cage was a diabolical thing. I was trapped and yet I was still walking around.

“Yeah, sure. Goodbye, Shar. Good luck or whatever.”

“Whatever you’re planning,” Sharlotte said, “you might need this.” She flung the saddle bags over the fence and they landed with a crunch of leather on snow in front of me.

I bent and picked them up but didn’t look inside.

Sharlotte nodded, then turned. If Pilate knew the game, so did Sharlotte, since we’d all witnessed how the Weller family worked. I bet she never figured I’d be playing our dumb games of love and hate with her.

June Mai took her hand again. The two walked across the gravel, going west, going toward Burlington, chasing after Wren, and chasing after another battle in the Juniper Wars. This one would be in Denver, and in the end, it would be a doozy.

“This is stupid,” Pilate said. “How long are you going to be stupid?”

And that was the question. I touched the slate chaining me to the U.S. “Until I get smart.”

That would take a long, long time.

Chapter Two

LATE AT NIGHT, IN THE light of the moon, she walked across the water of the sea toward those in the tiny boat. The women in the boat thought it was a ghost and cried out. But she told them, “Take courage, it is I, do not be afraid!” She got into the boat with them and the wind died down. They were completely astounded, but they did not understand. On the contrary, their hearts were hardened.

—The Gospel of Mark, Chapter 6, Verses 48-52, The Lincoln-Omaha Translation of the New Testament, Copyright 2061

(i)

Three months later.

I thought I hated Hoyt before, but that had been mere dislike. Ninety days later, ninety scans later, the rage I felt hurt me, physically.

Do you know what the perfect antidote to resentment is? Whiskey and THC. I learned that quick at the Hurry Curry where I worked. Me, the dishwashers, the cleaning crew, all got together to drink Pains whiskey and vape Rebel Leaf. We called it partying. We partied in basement apartments. We partied around bonfires on the edge of town where trash from the Juniper blew over the SISBI fences. Didn’t much feel like partying to me.

Ninety days later, it was the Wednesday after Valentine’s Day, 2059, and my new friends were barely speaking to me.

I’d done something on Valentine’s Day that pissed them off, but I did it in a blackout and I didn’t really want to know the details. I wanted to forget.

You can get good at forgetting. I’d forgotten Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year’s Eve and the day after. But I remembered Tibbs Hoyt knuckling my skull. Remembered that.

And the heartbroken look on Sharlotte’s face when I told her I wasn’t going with her.

On that Wednesday, February 26, 2059, me and the Hurry Curry