Storm Girls (The Juniper Wars Book 4) by Aaron Ritchey (best books to read for teens .txt) 📗

Now I had to pause. Stop and pause and think ’cause I remembered Pilate saying something similar to Sharlotte when we first started the cattle drive. Sharlotte had been so devastated by Mama dying but was trying to pretend she wasn’t.

I wanted to show June Mai I didn’t care what she said, so I murmured, “Okay, yeah. How can you justify it?”

June Mai took off a glove—a nice Nferno glove, but ragged from use. Her hand was white, almost like Corwin’s coat. She raised it above her head. “I set my goal. I set it here, and I swore I would get my voice heard by the powers that be in Washington, DC. I would make them hear me. I tried the normal routes. I left the Juniper. I went to the media, and nothing happened. I tried to be civil. The powers didn’t care about civility. They threatened the reporters. They muted me at every turn. In the end, the few interviews I did fell on deaf ears ’cause the American people were not interested in veterans, the past, their horrific war. They had power, prosperity, and the brightest of futures. They wanted only good news, and I was there, bringing bad. I might as well have been whispering.

“So, I returned to the Juniper with my goal ever in my mind. And I did unspeakable things in honor of that goal. Not for me, but for my soldiers. I sacrificed my free will for a higher purpose. What have you done in your quest to deliver the chalkdrive to me?”

Brushing down Corwin, I went over my list of sins. I’d killed. I’d chosen the chalkdrive over getting medical care for Sharlotte, and then I cut her leg off. I’d abandoned Pilate and Micaiah in Glenwood Springs. I’d walked away from the avalanche with my sisters buried beneath it. I’d lied to Alice.

Did I get to choose all of that? Or had every decision been thrust upon me? I glowered and said nothing.

’Cause I too had sacrificed my free will for a higher purpose.

June Mai went on. “You, like me, did what you had to do. In the past, Washington, DC was able to censor me. They won’t be able to squelch the news that the Sterility Epidemic has a cure and the infamous Outlaw Warlord, June Mai Angel, brought it out of the Juniper. Again, I ask, please, give me the chalkdrive. Pilate and the rest don’t need to know, and this bit of subterfuge might just be the secret that saves the day.”

Slipping the horse brush into one of the cargo pockets on my pants, I brought the chalkdrive out of my shirt. Such a simple thing. Just a little bit of metal and circuitry.

I saw her eyes fix on it.

Then, contrary as a hungover Wren, I put it away. “You want it, you can take it off my cold, dead body. After all the people you’ve killed, killing me would prolly be real easy for you.”

Wordless, she turned away, and I figure she’d go, but she didn’t. She stopped, then turned slowly around. “I haven’t slept, really slept, in years. If I’ve learned one thing, I’ve learned this ... every time I kill someone, either directly or indirectly, it weighs on me. We were not meant to butcher one another. Keep the chalkdrive. I will get you and your boy over the border. But promise me I will be standing at your side when you deliver the news to the World.”

“I promise.”

She put out a hand, and we shook on the deal.

She held my eyes by her force of will. “I’m sorry for all that I have done to you, your family, and your town. I truly am.”

Inside, something clicked. I felt what I had felt for June Mai back on the Scheutzes’ ranch, when I first heard Jenny Bell tell us about her. I felt pity, mercy, and a sad understanding that the world can be a hard place to live in. June Mai was right, free will is a nice idea, but is it a reality all the time? Not if we dedicate ourselves to a higher ideal.

“I forgive you,” I whispered.

She nodded at me, and I nodded back.

“What will happen to you once you get America’s attention?” I asked.

June Mai smiled wistfully. “I will have achieved my goal. What happens to me won’t matter after that. All I want is for America to honor her veterans and for them to receive the compensation they deserve.”

In the end, that’s the trick. Make sure what you want is the higher ideal.

“I’m sorry I was mean to you,” I said. Instead of that icy numb feeling inside, I felt compassion. She had humbled me.

“I accept your apology, but really, what you are sorry for is nothing compared to what I am sorry for.” She touched my arm and then walked away.

Corwin didn’t want to be ignored anymore, and he nosed me to pay attention to him. I drew his face to mine and rested my cheek against his. Tired ... I was so tired. And I swore that after all this was done, I’d rest on a ranch somewhere, and all I would do is take care of horses and ride them in sunshine and retreat from a world where haggard tyrants of all types felt the sharp scratch of their own thistle thrones.

I picked Corwin’s hooves, all the while wondering why people out in the World could ignore June Mai.

The answer was simple: Lonely Moon.

It was a popular action show about several families trying to make it in the Juniper. One family were farmers fighting the weather, another were ranchers battling rustlers, and still another were a gang of outlaws. The good people won out, the bad guys got it in the end, and that was what people wanted. Americans like their fiction simple, their little stereotypes uncomplicated by reality.

Lonely Moon had twisted the Juniper so Americans didn’t have to care about it in any real way.

Why didn’t