The Widow's Revenge Read Online Free

exaggeration to report that the old woman practically jumped out of her skin, but she was startled by the sudden appearance of Sarah Frank at her elbow. She feigned a slap at the girl. “Don’t do that—you scared me out of a year’s growth!” She scowled at the young woman. “I thought you was in your bedroom, putting stuff into your suitcase.”
    “I was; then I came into the kitchen.”
    Daisy snorted. These young people had a snappy answer for everything.
Why, in my day—
The tribal elder paused. Cocked her head as if she heard something coming. Narrowed her eyes as if to catch a glimpse of it.
    The barometer plunged precipitously.
    Gale winds shrieked and bent trees to the ground.
    The rain was horizontal, drops whizzed by like bullets.
    Fortunately, these were merely metaphorical barometers, winds, and rain.
    The
brainstorm
had hit full force.
    Her notion was radical. And a long way from being a sure thing. More like what Daisy’s poker-playing nephew would call “a real long shot.” Never mind. The Ute elder was willing to give it a try.
The girl is only half Ute, but that might be enough.
The wily old woman turned a warm gaze on the innocent. “Sarah, I’d like you to do a little favor for me.”
    “Okay. What?” The Ute-Papago orphan—not a relation of the tribal elder—was always doing something for “Aunt” Daisy.
    Daisy told Sarah
what
.
    This struck Sarah Frank as a strange request, even coming from the unpredictable old woman. Which was why she repeated what she thought she’d heard, practically word for word. “You want me to get the jar of Kroger strawberry preserves and that stale half a cherry pie
and
my old plastic compact—and take them outside and set them on the cedar stump?”
    Daisy nodded.
    Sarah shrugged. “Okay.”
    Most teenagers would want to know why.
The old woman smiled.
What a sweet child.

CHAPTER FIVE
THE CRUCIAL EXPERIMENT
     
     
    SARAH PLACED EACH ITEM ON THE STUMP, THEN BACKED OFF TO INSPECT the arrangement with a critical eye. “Is that okay?”
    The shaman nodded. “It’ll do just fine.” Daisy turned to glare at the
pitukupf
, who was loitering a few paces away, directly across the stump from Sarah. The little man seemed rather older than a few minutes ago, when he hadn’t looked a day over nine hundred years.
Hah! Little Mr. Silverheels doesn’t look like he’s in the mood for kicking up a jig now.
She studied her smallish adversary’s uneasy expression.
I think he’s afraid of the girl.
Which might be a good thing. The critical issue was, did Sarah have enough Ute blood flowing in her veins to enable her to perceive the presence of the
pitukupf
? It was not necessary that the girl see him right away—that might scare her half to death.
If she just has the
feeling
that he’s here, that’d be enough for now.
    Daisy recalled her first encounter with the
pitukupf
, when she was about eight years old. She had been able to see only the little man’s footprints in the sandy bottom of
Cañón del Espíritu
, and a faint impression of his shadow on a bloodberry bush. The aged woman leaned on her oak staff and addressed the sullen-looking dwarf. “Well, there it is—everything you asked for. Start talking.”
    The
pitukupf
did not utter a word. Neither did he move. He might have been carved from knotty pine, his thin gray lips sealed with piñon sap.
    Sarah stared at the peculiar old woman. “Aunt Daisy—can I ask you something?”
    “Sure.”
    “Who are you talking to?”
    “The little man.”
    “Oh.” The girl felt her skin prickle. Her eyes darted right and left. “Uh—where is he?”
    Daisy pointed her walking stick. “Right there.”
    Sarah stared intently at the spot.
There’s nothing there. Well, not that I can see. Maybe Aunt Daisy is teasing me.
The determined youth tried harder. She engaged all her senses and powers.
I still can’t see anything.
Except . . .
Except for something like smoke.
No,
smoke
did not quite describe