Walk on Earth a Stranger by Rae Carson Page B

imagined. It makes me glad I’m not an iron-scryer, if such a thing exists, because if it set off my witchy powers, it would leave me dead senseless for a day.
    When the train chugs away from the station, Peony and I set out on the Chattanooga road, which follows parallel to the now-empty tracks. I imagine how fast we could get to California if a train headed that way. It might only take weeks instead of months. Truth be told, I’m not sure it’s safeto ride in something so huge and fast.
    I’m a mile north of town when horses clop up behind me. I’ve been moving fast, passing lots of folks on the road. But no one has been passing me. I glance back, just quick enough to mark three riders—men in thick beards, weathered coats, and slouched hats.
    They gain on me slowly. The first comes up on my right and gives me a friendly nod. The second fellow pulls even on my left. The third rider closes in at my rear.
    Peony’s ears go back.
    They have a rangy look about them, with sun-blasted skin and unkempt hair. But their guns are shiny and new.
    The one beside me grins, and I feel like a deer in his sights. “Howdy,” he says.
    â€œHowdy,” I say with forced cheer.
    â€œSaw you at the station in Dalton. That train is something else, ain’t it?”
    â€œNever seen anything like it,” I say, because it seems like a safe thing.
    â€œEver seen those steamboats on the Mississippi?”
    â€œNever been to the Mississippi.”
    He whistles. “They’re a sight too, blowing out a cloud of smoke and running down the water like a thousand horses. We’re headed that way. Go down to the Mississippi every winter. Where you headed?”
    â€œNorth to see some cousins.”
    â€œWhereabouts? If it’s around here, me and my brothers probably know ’em.”
    â€œOh, I don’t think you would. They’re up close to Chattanooga.”
    His eyes narrow. “Know pretty much everybody around those parts. Ain’t that so, Ronnie?”
    â€œYou know it is, Emmett,” says a voice behind me, and the back of my neck prickles.
    â€œDon’t think we’ve ever seen you around here before,” the first one—Emmett—says.
    â€œI reckon not,” I say. “My family’s back in Ellijay.”
    The fellow grins like a cat with a mouse, and I don’t know what I said wrong, but I immediately regret it. My thoughts spin fast, trying to figure out my options.
    â€œShoot, Ellijay’s not that far, is it, boys?”
    â€œNever been there myself,” Ronnie says behind me.
    â€œNeither have I,” says the one beside me. “But I hear it’s nice.”
    â€œSo, you fellows know the area pretty well?” I have a peculiar urgency to keep them talking.
    â€œNobody knows it better than us, from Dalton to the Mississippi,” Emmett says.
    â€œThen maybe you can tell me something. Man at the train station said the next town is Tunnelsville, less than a day’s ride. Thought I’d reach it by now.”
    â€œThat’s fourteen, fifteen miles away,” Emmett says.
    â€œAt least,” Ronnie adds.
    â€œOh,” I say. “So I won’t get there tonight?”
    â€œNot a chance.”
    Without warning, I jerk Peony around. Ronnie’s horsewhinnies as it sidesteps to avoid us, and I breeze right past. The men pull up their horses and turn to stare at me.
    â€œYou fellows saved me a lot of trouble,” I say. “But it puts a burr under my saddle for the fellow who misled me back at the station. Figure if I hurry, I can get back to Dalton in time for supper.”
    Emmett frowns. “Sounds about right.”
    â€œWell, you did me a kindness, and I’m grateful,” I say.
    I kick Peony into a fast walk. I don’t hear their horses following behind, and I resist the urge to look over my shoulder to make sure. I’m halfway back to Dalton when I finally risk a