I’ll Be Home for New Moon
A Children of the Wildings Holiday Story
Winter, sixteen months after the battle at the Gap
Comfort moved the last of the spice cookies from the baking sheet to the cooling rack, set down the spatula, and wiped her hands on her apron. “If you can spare me for a moment, I want to go check on Eston,” she said to her mother-in-law.
“Go ahead, I’ve got plenty of help here,” Lainie said as she slid another pan full of cookies, these ones flavored with ground chickroot, into one half of the huge double oven of her cookstove. Indeed, Zina, Vera, and Mrs. Kanney, the ranch foreman’s wife, were all busily making more cookies, washing dishes, and whirling about all the other kitchen tasks involved in throwing a big New Moon party.
Comfort took off her apron and went into the front parlor. The parlor, and the whole house, smelled of cookies and roasting chicken and beef. Moons, stars, and snowflakes cut from paper and starch-stiffened fabric hung by threads from nails in the parlor ceiling, along with sprigs from the few evergreen trees and shrubs that grew around Prairie Wells. Excitement bubbled inside Comfort; this would be her first real New Moon celebration, marking the first full moon after the winter solstice, when the gods turned their full gaze upon the earth and endowed it with blessings for the coming year. Holidays with her ma when she was growing up had always been half-hearted at best.
After she left her mother to look for her father, she had spent the holiday in whatever saloon she was working in at the time, if she had a job at all. Then last year, her first holiday after she and Blake were married, she had spent it with her father in Dragon Canyon, helping care for him while waiting for Blake to return for her after he finished attending the trials of Wiley’s henchmen.
But this year would be different. The entire Vendine family had gathered; even Garis had made the trip with his A’ayimat wife Halna and their four children from the village in the Greenstone Mountains where they lived with Halna’s family. The only ones missing were Kessie, who was studying at a school of magical healing in Granadaia, and Blake. He had wired a couple of ninedays ago to say he would make it home in time for the New Moon celebration, and should be arriving any time now.
In the parlor, Betita, whom Collen had married not long after returning from the fight against Wiley and his outlaws, and Halna were watching the children. Betita’s newborn son was in her arms, while Halna was heavily pregnant with her fifth child. Too far along for travel to be easy or comfortable, but she had still insisted that she and Garis and the children make the long trip down from the Greenstones. Eston was on the floor with his cousin Raysha, Vera and Luthe’s daughter, who was only a month or so younger. They were lying on their tummies looking at each other and groping at each other’s faces.
Comfort picked Eston up and propped him on her hip. “Let’s go see if Daddy’s coming yet.”
She went to the window and looked out. It was still snowing outside; the snow had started yesterday and hadn’t let up. This was an unusual amount of snowfall for Prairie Wells, her in-laws had told Comfort. It wasn’t a heavy snow but was starting to pile up on the ground, and Garis and Halna’s three older children were running around in the yard throwing snowballs. The light outside had shifted; even through the clouds and snow, Comfort could tell it was much later in the day than she had realized. She glanced at the carved wooden clock on the wall; it showed half past three in the afternoon.
She went back to the kitchen door. “Wasn’t the westbound train supposed to get in around one o’clock?”
“I think that’s when it usually pulls in,” Lainie answered as she rolled out a pie crust. “He isn’t here yet?”
“No sign of him,” Comfort answered. Her heart had started racing, her stomach knotting up, but she tried to sound calm so as not to worry her mother-in-law.
“Could be delayed because of the snow, or it could have been held up at Canyon View. It’s too soon to start worrying. Easier said than done, I know.”
Comfort let out a little half-laugh of relief at Lainie’s understanding and reassurance. She went back to the window; surely Blake would arrive any moment now.
Not long after, a man came riding up the road then turned onto the Vendine property. Comfort’s lingering worry lifted. “Here he is – wait, that isn’t him.” The horse wasn’t the big, rangy, ugly buckskin Mack, and the rider was slimmer and shorter than Blake, no more than a youth. Her heart sank; probably a hand from one of the nearby ranches, here to talk to Silas, who was out taking care of chores with the other men.
The young man came to the door and knocked. Lainie came bustling out from the kitchen, wiping floury hands on her apron, and opened it. “Cole!” she said, naming one of the stable boys from the Green Haven stables in town. “Blessed New Moon to you! What brings you out here in the snow?”
“Blessed New Moon to you, too, ma’am. Is Blake here?”
Comfort’s stomach turned into a lump of ice and she half-consciously clutched her baby more tightly to her. Lainie sent a concerned glance her way. “No,” her mother-in-law said. “We’re expecting him on the westbound train early this afternoon. Figure it likely got delayed by the storm.”
“No, ma’am. It came in just a little late, no more than half an hour. We have Blake’s horse at the stable, and also his things from the train. He didn’t collect them and we couldn’t find him in town, we thought maybe something happened and he had to come on here in a hurry, so I wanted to tell him we’ve got them and he can come for them whenever’s convenient.”
“Thank you, Cole. We’ll tell him when he gets here.” The cheerful calm in Lainie’s voice sounded just a little bit forced. “Would you like a cookie before you head back to town, maybe a hot cup to go with it?”
“No time to stop, Mrs. Vendine, we’re awful busy today. But I’d sure like a cookie, if you’ve got one to spare.”
“I’ve only got about a hundred to spare. Zina? Can you bring out some cookies for Cole, sweetie?”
Zina came out from the kitchen with a small bundle of cookies wrapped in a cloth napkin. “Here, Cole,” she said with a winsome smile. She had just turned thirteen and was now old enough, or so she thought, to flirt with every young man under the age of twenty she encountered.
Cole’s cold-reddened face turned redder. “Thank you, Miss Zina. Mrs Vendine. Blessed New Moon to you all,” he said, tipping his hat to the others in the room. As they responded with “Blessed New Moon,” he left.
Lainie closed the door and leaned against it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, while Comfort felt like the ground was crumbling away beneath her. Lainie opened her eyes and looked at her. “I’m sure whatever happened… I’m sure he can take care of himself.” She sounded like she was trying to make herself believe it.
* * *
Earlier that day
Blake unfolded his newspaper as the train pulled out of the Canyon View station. It had sat at the station overnight for maintenance and to take on more fuel, and now, just before dawn, was starting up again on its way to Prairie Wells. Another six hours or so, and he would be home. It would be his first New Moon holiday at home in years, and his first with Comfort and their infant son. He had been home for the birth and a few ninedays afterwards, then had headed out on another hunt, making it home one time for just a couple of days during that job. Now with that business – a matter of a gang of bank robbers – settled, with generous compensation from the banks that had been robbed, he was looking forward to a longer visit with his family and a festive holiday celebration. His mother always put on a spectacular New Moon party.
He smiled, thinking of the gifts for Comfort and Eston, his parents, and his siblings, nieces, and nephews that were packed in his knapsack and saddlebags, and opened the newspaper to the account of his arrest of the leader of the gang of bank robbers and the subsequent trial. It was reasonably accurate; none of the exaggerations and inaccuracies were worth the trouble of trying to correct. He turned to a page of festive and humorous New Moon drawings.
An attendant came by with a cart of refreshments; he bought a cup of hot chickroot brew and a biscuit with ham and cheese. He ate and drank, then settled back for the rest of the journey home. He had taken a room at the railroad hotel while the train was stopped overnight, but the train had gotten in late and he had had to get up early to board before it left again, and hadn’t had much sleep. Maybe he could catch a little more sleep before he got home.
He was just dozing off when someone said in his ear, “Mr. Vendine? Sir?”
He blinked himself awake and turned to see a red-jacketed attendant standing next to him. “What is it?” he asked.
“You need to come with me to the stable carriage.”
Alarm shot through Blake and he stood up. “What’s wrong? Is something wrong with my horse?” Worry for Mack gnawing at him, he followed the attendant down the aisle through the carriage, then out the rear door – it was still snowing, after snowing all day yesterday – and across the decks to the next carriage. Mack was getting too old for this life; he should have left the good old boy at home in Prairie Wells, let him live a leisurely life out to pasture on the ranch instead of pushing him all over the Wildings these last months. And now it might be too late to do the right thing by him…
They reached the carriage where Mack was stabled. Blake headed for his horse’s stall towards the rear.
All at once, in the dim light, several figures appeared, blocking his way. A scuffle of feet behind him made him spin around; another half-dozen men blocked the aisle behind him. Among them was the attendant; only now did Blake notice how badly the dapper red jacket fit him.
He swallowed, his worry for Mack turning into cold fear. He looked from side to side and saw no immediate means of escape. He was surrounded, and in a carriage filled with horses, his options for fighting back without harming the animals were limited. “Tell me what you want,” he said, trying to sound calm.
“Blake Vendine,” said a voice that sounded vaguely familiar, and one of the men stepped forward, holding a blue-green magelight. A big man, with a wild bush of hair that showed oddly reddish in the magelight…
Recognition dawned on Blake. “Lorn.” The raftsman who had worked for Wiley Wedlin, who had swamped his raft in an effort to drown Blake and Comfort as he was taking them across the Gap River. When Blake was rounding up the last of Wedlin’s associates, Lorn had been nowhere to be found.
“Yep,” the big man answered. “You have any idea how hard it was to get the P’wagimet to let me go after they caught me on their lands, after you set me adrift on my raft?”
Blake had suspected that was what had happened to him. He decided there was no point in trying to answer the question.
Two more men came forward. One was holding a magelight, the other a gun. Blake recognized the mage and the Plain salt miner who had survived their attempt to ambush him in the Bads. “You left us tied up in the desert without our horses,” the mage said.
“In bindings that would wear off soon, and with food and water, within a day’s walk of the salt camps. And you found your horses safe and well cared for in Hope’s Gate, right?”
“That was still a dirty, low-down trick.”
One by one, the other men showed themselves to Blake, small enemies he had made in his hunts for bigger game. If it had only been a few of them, and if he wasn’t hemmed in by the necessity of not endangering the horses in the carriage, it wouldn’t have been a problem. But with more than a dozen of them, and with the animals to worry about, he was in a tight spot. He had no choice but to try to do what he hated doing and avoided as much as possible, bargain with them. “Look, I don’t want any trouble, and I don’t want the horses in here to get hurt. Tell me what you want – money, pardons, whatever, and we can make our deal and be done with this.”
The first punch came in his blind spot, a solid blow against his kidney. He gasped out in pain, staggered forward, then spun in a zikavas counter-punch. And then they were all on him, punching, hitting, kicking, grabbing at him in a tight, chaotic knot in the narrow aisle. They hemmed him in; he couldn’t go forward or back or into the stalls on either side. The men weren’t shouting, so as not to attract attention, but the fight made its own noise; over it, he could hear the nervous snorting and whinnying of the horses in the car.
Another punch, this one a blow to his head, made him stagger; someone kicked his legs out from under him and he crashed to the floor. With his pained gasp he sucked in bits of hay, which made him cough. The hard toes of boots, some blunt and some pointed, drove into his sides. A kick to the head left him dizzy with spots dancing in his vision. “We gotta finish this before someone catches us,” one of the men said.
Blake’s stomach dropped. They meant to kill him. He struggled to get to his feet, but his attackers were still too closed in around him and nothing in his body seemed to work right. He saw a flare of blue-green magelight – Lorn’s – then felt the stinging of magical bindings wrapping around him. Instantly, he went numb everywhere the bindings were touching him. Then Lorn and another of the larger men picked him up, one holding his shoulders and the other his feet. They hauled him to the back of the carriage, past Mack who whickered in concern, and out the door. They swing him once, twice, then tossed him off the train. His knees hit the ground first, and the unmistakable snap of bone and explosion of pain in one leg were the last things he knew as he bounced down the rocky rise of the rail bed.
* * *
That afternoon
After Cole left, Comfort and Lainie were still stunned, Halna and Bettie and the others in the house gathering around them in concern, when Silas and the men came in from their chores. “I saw Cole riding away down the road back to town,” Comfort’s father-in-law said. “Did he stop here? Is Blake here yet?” As soon as he saw Lainie and Comfort, concern entered his face.
“Yes, Cole was here,” Lainie told him. “He said Blake’s horse was on the one o’clock train, and his things, but Blake wasn’t.”
The look of concern on Silas’s face sharpened, and Blake’s brothers Collen and Garis and brother-in-law Luthe also gave each other worried looks.
“The train stops overnight in Canyon View,” Silas said. “He might have gotten held up there.”
“If he had, he would have wired us,” Lainie answered.
Sick with worry, Comfort spoke up. “There was that time we were on a train, and a gang of outlaws cornered us and we had to jump off.” What if he had had to escape from more outlaws, and got hurt jumping off the train, or worse, was captured and hurt or even killed by them?
“You’re right.” Silas looked at the other men. “Garis, Collen, Luthe. Get ready to ride out. We’ll stop in town, see if anyone who came in on that train saw Blake and find out the last they remember seeing him, then we’ll start following the rails east.”
“But it’s still snowing, and it’ll be getting dark soon,” Comfort said. “I can’t ask you to –”
“Yes, you can,” Silas said. “Anyhow, he’s my boy, I can’t just leave it alone.”
Quickly, the other women helped gather provisions for the expedition while Comfort stood still, holding Eston, numb with fear. The hopes of a festive holiday had crumbled around her, but that didn’t matter. Blake was missing, and the only thing that mattered was finding him. Safe and sound, gods willing.
* * *
Earlier that day
Slowly, Blake became aware of being colder than he’d ever been in his life. The pain came next, though at first it was a distant second to the cold.
He was too cold, he realized. He had to move or he would freeze to death where he lay. His arms were free of the magical bindings; he must have lain here at least a couple of hours, long enough for the bindings to wear off. Though his head pounded with the effort, he forced himself to sit up. Sharp pain flared in his ribs – he had a couple of broken ribs for sure – and his head swam and pounded like someone was driving a stake through it.
He tried to move, and the pain in his leg shocked through him white-hot, blacking out his vision. He fell back, cursing. Broken. Here he was in the worst snowstorm this area had known since being settled, with a broken leg, who knew how many leagues from the nearest ranch or settlement. He couldn’t go anywhere, could hardly move, and already the chill that had sunk into his body was starting to fade into a fuzzy, vague warmth. He tried to drag himself a handspan or two along the ground, and nearly passed out again from the pain.
He was going to die here, of the cold or from his injuries. In frustration and anger, he dug his fingers into the layer of snow and the cold, wet ground beneath it. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Gods, someone, help me. He couldn’t die. He had promised Comfort he would be home to spend this first holiday with her and their son.
But, of course, there was no one to help, and the gods must have been too busy bestowing their blessings for the new year to take notice of him. He did his best to stay awake and conscious, to postpone the inevitable, but as the pain faded with the cold, he felt himself drifting away…
Some time later, he had no idea how long, a great shadow darkened his dimming vision. A scent of animal musk and hot iron, a breath of hot wind carrying that same iron scent washing over him, the cold and pain fading away, the world seeming to fall away from him…
* * *
Before long, Silas, Garis, Collen, and Luthe were ready to ride out. As the other ranch hands gathered around to find out what was happening, two of them also volunteered to join the search party. Surrounded by the concerned women, Comfort was torn between gratitude for the support and feeling like somehow this was all her fault. Lainie had to be as terrified as she was, and Blake’s sisters as well; she should do something to try to support and comfort them. But her mind was too numb with fear to do anything but stand there holding her baby and trying not fall apart.
When the search party was ready to ride out, they all gathered in the yard despite the falling snow. Silas offered up a simple but achingly sincere prayer to the Defender and the Mender, and others added to the prayers. Comfort hadn’t been raised with the same devotion to the gods that the Vendines had, but now she reached out silently with everything in her for their help. Not for myself, she told them. But he’s such a good man, he doesn’t deserve to have anything bad happen to him. And his parents are such good people. And I don’t want our baby to grow up without a father. Tears came to her eyes and her chest ached as she wondered if anyone or anything was listening to her.
The prayers ended, and the men kissed their wives and mounted up. Suddenly from the cloudy sky came a roaring shriek that had become familiar over the last year and a half. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked up. In the midst of the clouds and snow appeared the great winged shape of a dragon. It roared again and let out a long curl of flame.
Comfort stared, along with everyone else. “What’s a dragon doing here?” Lainie asked.
What odd timing, Comfort thought. And now that she thought about it, there was something especially familiar about that particular dragon’s call. It roared again as it circled lower as though to land in the yard.
“Whiskey!” she gasped, remembering the voice of the dragon she and Blake had ridden on to the fight against her father and his outlaws at the Gap. But why?
“Looking for something to eat?” Silas guessed out loud. He had on occasion in the past offered up a head of beef that was scheduled for butchering anyway to a visiting dragon.
Seeming to exercise great care, Whiskey slowly landed – but only on his hind legs. Cradled in his front legs was something that he gently laid on the ground. A person –
“Blake!” Comfort cried. She ran to him, Silas and Lainie close on her heels, and dropped to her knees beside him. His eyes were closed, his face bruised and blood-smeared, and he wasn’t moving. Her heart in her throat, she pressed two fingers to the pulse point in his neck. His heart was beating. Her terror fled, leaving her weak with relief; she didn’t know if it was a good pulse or not, but at least it was there.
Blake!” she said over and over, his parents echoing her. “Blake, can you hear me?”
Finally he stirred and groaned. His eyes opened. He looked at her as though trying to focus or figure out where he was. “Comfort?” he said weakly.
“Yes, yes, it’s me! You’re home! What happened? You weren’t on the train and we were so worried!”
He let out another groan, tried to sit up, and fell back. “I was ambushed by some old friends on the train. They let me know how they felt about me, then threw me off the train. I landed bad and broke my leg. Broken ribs, too. But this fella happened along and warmed me up, and I guess brought me home.” He looked up at the dragon, still standing over him protectively, and understanding dawned in his face. “Whiskey?”
Silas was already feeling out Blake’s legs. “I can tell this one isn’t right,” he said, palpating Blake’s left leg above the knee, “Not broken, but… halfway healed?”
“It was broken,” Blake said. “I felt it and heard it break.”
Comfort stood, handed Eston off to Lainie, and laid her hands on Whiskey’s flank. With her mage senses, she sent a question to the dragon. Tell me what happened.
Images, sensation, feelings came to her. Flying, looking for a beef to bring to his new mate, a sudden sense of urgency, a plea for help. A familiar mind, along with a voice greater than the world telling him to come. Blake lying unmoving and cold and broken on the ground, his mind growing weaker. A breath of warm healing magic, carefully gathering his human friend in his forelegs, flying to the place his friend’s fading mind longed for. Seeing more humans he knew gathered together – the right place.
Thank you, Comfort sent with her whole heart to the dragon. Thank you. I’m so grateful. She turned to those gathered around her. “He was in the area, hoping to find someone to give him a beef to take home to his mate, and sensed someone he knew was in trouble. He used healing magic on Blake, and brought him home.”
Lainie patted the dragon on the flank. “Good boy, Whiskey. Silas, we can spare a beef for him, don’t you think?”
“I reckon so. I’ll take care of it, the rest of you get Blake inside.”
Collen and Garis came to Blake, and with his arms over their shoulders, helped him to his feet. Comfort followed closely, filled with a mix of joy and concern. Truly the gods had shown their face to her and Blake that day, sending their dragon friend to bring him safely home to her. But would Blake be all right?
* * *
The guests began arriving. The Ashlunds, the Nordens, the Garrows, Betita’s parents, other friends and neighbors, Ap and Joren and their families and the rest of the hands, all crowding into the brightly-lit parlor, kitchen, and dining room and even spilling out onto the porch around the house in the snowy evening. Several of the women joined Lainie in the kitchen, helping her catch up on the work that had gone undone; on hearing what had happened, Mr. Ashlund and Mr. Norden both offered up additional beefs for the dragon that was the hero of the day.
Cleaned up, his injuries tended, changed into clean clothes, Blake was given the place of honor in Silas’s armchair in the parlor. Comfort sat with him, anxiously watching him while Eston played on the floor with the other little ones. The bruising on his face was obvious even on his Island-dark coloring, and while the numerous cuts and scrapes had already started healing thanks to healing magic, it was still clear that he had been through an ordeal and had a long way to go. But he was looking a little stronger and livelier now.
The feast was laid out. Lainie had outdone herself, with contributions from the other women. Roast beef, roast chickens, roast pork, spicy beans and bacon, cooked greens, potatoes, dumplings, gravy, brown bread, sour-everlasting bread, fruit conserves, cookies, pies, cakes, wine, whiskey, hard and easy cider, hot ginger tea and brewed chickroot… To Comfort’s surprise and relief, Blake asked for a little of everything. She wouldn’t have thought that, as badly hurt as he was, he would have much of an appetite. But he ate like he hadn’t seen food in days, and though Comfort felt like she should help him eat, he managed fine on his own.
When the eating finally slowed down, Betita got out her fiddle and Collen his guitar; in the months before their wedding, he had taken up the instrument so they could play together. They started up a lively song, standing up and dancing together as they played, joined by one ranch hand on the tin pipes and another with a set of hand drums. Most everyone else, adults and children alike, joined in the dancing lines that circled the players and wound through the house.
Sitting next to Blake, Comfort watched and listened, tapping her toe along with the music.
“Let’s dance,” Blake said.
“But, you shouldn’t. You’re hurt.”
“Not that bad.”
“But you broke your leg this morning!”
“And Whiskey mended it. The dragon,” he added. “Not the drink.”
Despite herself, Comfort laughed at their old joke. “Are you sure you feel up to it?”
“It’s my first New Moon with my wife and son. And the first in a long time with the rest of my family. And a dragon brought me home. It’d be a crime to miss out on the dancing.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that. Come on, then.”
He stood. Gingerly, leaning a little more heavily on Comfort than the bravado of his words would have suggested, he led her into a slow, careful dance. In her husband’s arms, Comfort sighed happily, finally letting herself feel a full measure of joy. It was New Moon, she was with family and friends who loved her, whom she belonged with, and best of all, Blake was here, safe and sound, and he and she and their baby were a real family together.
The gods had smiled down on her indeed.
* * *
Copyright 2026 Kyra Halland. All Rights Reserved.
A Children of the Wildings Holiday Story
Winter, sixteen months after the battle at the Gap
Comfort moved the last of the spice cookies from the baking sheet to the cooling rack, set down the spatula, and wiped her hands on her apron. “If you can spare me for a moment, I want to go check on Eston,” she said to her mother-in-law.
“Go ahead, I’ve got plenty of help here,” Lainie said as she slid another pan full of cookies, these ones flavored with ground chickroot, into one half of the huge double oven of her cookstove. Indeed, Zina, Vera, and Mrs. Kanney, the ranch foreman’s wife, were all busily making more cookies, washing dishes, and whirling about all the other kitchen tasks involved in throwing a big New Moon party.
Comfort took off her apron and went into the front parlor. The parlor, and the whole house, smelled of cookies and roasting chicken and beef. Moons, stars, and snowflakes cut from paper and starch-stiffened fabric hung by threads from nails in the parlor ceiling, along with sprigs from the few evergreen trees and shrubs that grew around Prairie Wells. Excitement bubbled inside Comfort; this would be her first real New Moon celebration, marking the first full moon after the winter solstice, when the gods turned their full gaze upon the earth and endowed it with blessings for the coming year. Holidays with her ma when she was growing up had always been half-hearted at best.
After she left her mother to look for her father, she had spent the holiday in whatever saloon she was working in at the time, if she had a job at all. Then last year, her first holiday after she and Blake were married, she had spent it with her father in Dragon Canyon, helping care for him while waiting for Blake to return for her after he finished attending the trials of Wiley’s henchmen.
But this year would be different. The entire Vendine family had gathered; even Garis had made the trip with his A’ayimat wife Halna and their four children from the village in the Greenstone Mountains where they lived with Halna’s family. The only ones missing were Kessie, who was studying at a school of magical healing in Granadaia, and Blake. He had wired a couple of ninedays ago to say he would make it home in time for the New Moon celebration, and should be arriving any time now.
In the parlor, Betita, whom Collen had married not long after returning from the fight against Wiley and his outlaws, and Halna were watching the children. Betita’s newborn son was in her arms, while Halna was heavily pregnant with her fifth child. Too far along for travel to be easy or comfortable, but she had still insisted that she and Garis and the children make the long trip down from the Greenstones. Eston was on the floor with his cousin Raysha, Vera and Luthe’s daughter, who was only a month or so younger. They were lying on their tummies looking at each other and groping at each other’s faces.
Comfort picked Eston up and propped him on her hip. “Let’s go see if Daddy’s coming yet.”
She went to the window and looked out. It was still snowing outside; the snow had started yesterday and hadn’t let up. This was an unusual amount of snowfall for Prairie Wells, her in-laws had told Comfort. It wasn’t a heavy snow but was starting to pile up on the ground, and Garis and Halna’s three older children were running around in the yard throwing snowballs. The light outside had shifted; even through the clouds and snow, Comfort could tell it was much later in the day than she had realized. She glanced at the carved wooden clock on the wall; it showed half past three in the afternoon.
She went back to the kitchen door. “Wasn’t the westbound train supposed to get in around one o’clock?”
“I think that’s when it usually pulls in,” Lainie answered as she rolled out a pie crust. “He isn’t here yet?”
“No sign of him,” Comfort answered. Her heart had started racing, her stomach knotting up, but she tried to sound calm so as not to worry her mother-in-law.
“Could be delayed because of the snow, or it could have been held up at Canyon View. It’s too soon to start worrying. Easier said than done, I know.”
Comfort let out a little half-laugh of relief at Lainie’s understanding and reassurance. She went back to the window; surely Blake would arrive any moment now.
Not long after, a man came riding up the road then turned onto the Vendine property. Comfort’s lingering worry lifted. “Here he is – wait, that isn’t him.” The horse wasn’t the big, rangy, ugly buckskin Mack, and the rider was slimmer and shorter than Blake, no more than a youth. Her heart sank; probably a hand from one of the nearby ranches, here to talk to Silas, who was out taking care of chores with the other men.
The young man came to the door and knocked. Lainie came bustling out from the kitchen, wiping floury hands on her apron, and opened it. “Cole!” she said, naming one of the stable boys from the Green Haven stables in town. “Blessed New Moon to you! What brings you out here in the snow?”
“Blessed New Moon to you, too, ma’am. Is Blake here?”
Comfort’s stomach turned into a lump of ice and she half-consciously clutched her baby more tightly to her. Lainie sent a concerned glance her way. “No,” her mother-in-law said. “We’re expecting him on the westbound train early this afternoon. Figure it likely got delayed by the storm.”
“No, ma’am. It came in just a little late, no more than half an hour. We have Blake’s horse at the stable, and also his things from the train. He didn’t collect them and we couldn’t find him in town, we thought maybe something happened and he had to come on here in a hurry, so I wanted to tell him we’ve got them and he can come for them whenever’s convenient.”
“Thank you, Cole. We’ll tell him when he gets here.” The cheerful calm in Lainie’s voice sounded just a little bit forced. “Would you like a cookie before you head back to town, maybe a hot cup to go with it?”
“No time to stop, Mrs. Vendine, we’re awful busy today. But I’d sure like a cookie, if you’ve got one to spare.”
“I’ve only got about a hundred to spare. Zina? Can you bring out some cookies for Cole, sweetie?”
Zina came out from the kitchen with a small bundle of cookies wrapped in a cloth napkin. “Here, Cole,” she said with a winsome smile. She had just turned thirteen and was now old enough, or so she thought, to flirt with every young man under the age of twenty she encountered.
Cole’s cold-reddened face turned redder. “Thank you, Miss Zina. Mrs Vendine. Blessed New Moon to you all,” he said, tipping his hat to the others in the room. As they responded with “Blessed New Moon,” he left.
Lainie closed the door and leaned against it. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, while Comfort felt like the ground was crumbling away beneath her. Lainie opened her eyes and looked at her. “I’m sure whatever happened… I’m sure he can take care of himself.” She sounded like she was trying to make herself believe it.
* * *
Earlier that day
Blake unfolded his newspaper as the train pulled out of the Canyon View station. It had sat at the station overnight for maintenance and to take on more fuel, and now, just before dawn, was starting up again on its way to Prairie Wells. Another six hours or so, and he would be home. It would be his first New Moon holiday at home in years, and his first with Comfort and their infant son. He had been home for the birth and a few ninedays afterwards, then had headed out on another hunt, making it home one time for just a couple of days during that job. Now with that business – a matter of a gang of bank robbers – settled, with generous compensation from the banks that had been robbed, he was looking forward to a longer visit with his family and a festive holiday celebration. His mother always put on a spectacular New Moon party.
He smiled, thinking of the gifts for Comfort and Eston, his parents, and his siblings, nieces, and nephews that were packed in his knapsack and saddlebags, and opened the newspaper to the account of his arrest of the leader of the gang of bank robbers and the subsequent trial. It was reasonably accurate; none of the exaggerations and inaccuracies were worth the trouble of trying to correct. He turned to a page of festive and humorous New Moon drawings.
An attendant came by with a cart of refreshments; he bought a cup of hot chickroot brew and a biscuit with ham and cheese. He ate and drank, then settled back for the rest of the journey home. He had taken a room at the railroad hotel while the train was stopped overnight, but the train had gotten in late and he had had to get up early to board before it left again, and hadn’t had much sleep. Maybe he could catch a little more sleep before he got home.
He was just dozing off when someone said in his ear, “Mr. Vendine? Sir?”
He blinked himself awake and turned to see a red-jacketed attendant standing next to him. “What is it?” he asked.
“You need to come with me to the stable carriage.”
Alarm shot through Blake and he stood up. “What’s wrong? Is something wrong with my horse?” Worry for Mack gnawing at him, he followed the attendant down the aisle through the carriage, then out the rear door – it was still snowing, after snowing all day yesterday – and across the decks to the next carriage. Mack was getting too old for this life; he should have left the good old boy at home in Prairie Wells, let him live a leisurely life out to pasture on the ranch instead of pushing him all over the Wildings these last months. And now it might be too late to do the right thing by him…
They reached the carriage where Mack was stabled. Blake headed for his horse’s stall towards the rear.
All at once, in the dim light, several figures appeared, blocking his way. A scuffle of feet behind him made him spin around; another half-dozen men blocked the aisle behind him. Among them was the attendant; only now did Blake notice how badly the dapper red jacket fit him.
He swallowed, his worry for Mack turning into cold fear. He looked from side to side and saw no immediate means of escape. He was surrounded, and in a carriage filled with horses, his options for fighting back without harming the animals were limited. “Tell me what you want,” he said, trying to sound calm.
“Blake Vendine,” said a voice that sounded vaguely familiar, and one of the men stepped forward, holding a blue-green magelight. A big man, with a wild bush of hair that showed oddly reddish in the magelight…
Recognition dawned on Blake. “Lorn.” The raftsman who had worked for Wiley Wedlin, who had swamped his raft in an effort to drown Blake and Comfort as he was taking them across the Gap River. When Blake was rounding up the last of Wedlin’s associates, Lorn had been nowhere to be found.
“Yep,” the big man answered. “You have any idea how hard it was to get the P’wagimet to let me go after they caught me on their lands, after you set me adrift on my raft?”
Blake had suspected that was what had happened to him. He decided there was no point in trying to answer the question.
Two more men came forward. One was holding a magelight, the other a gun. Blake recognized the mage and the Plain salt miner who had survived their attempt to ambush him in the Bads. “You left us tied up in the desert without our horses,” the mage said.
“In bindings that would wear off soon, and with food and water, within a day’s walk of the salt camps. And you found your horses safe and well cared for in Hope’s Gate, right?”
“That was still a dirty, low-down trick.”
One by one, the other men showed themselves to Blake, small enemies he had made in his hunts for bigger game. If it had only been a few of them, and if he wasn’t hemmed in by the necessity of not endangering the horses in the carriage, it wouldn’t have been a problem. But with more than a dozen of them, and with the animals to worry about, he was in a tight spot. He had no choice but to try to do what he hated doing and avoided as much as possible, bargain with them. “Look, I don’t want any trouble, and I don’t want the horses in here to get hurt. Tell me what you want – money, pardons, whatever, and we can make our deal and be done with this.”
The first punch came in his blind spot, a solid blow against his kidney. He gasped out in pain, staggered forward, then spun in a zikavas counter-punch. And then they were all on him, punching, hitting, kicking, grabbing at him in a tight, chaotic knot in the narrow aisle. They hemmed him in; he couldn’t go forward or back or into the stalls on either side. The men weren’t shouting, so as not to attract attention, but the fight made its own noise; over it, he could hear the nervous snorting and whinnying of the horses in the car.
Another punch, this one a blow to his head, made him stagger; someone kicked his legs out from under him and he crashed to the floor. With his pained gasp he sucked in bits of hay, which made him cough. The hard toes of boots, some blunt and some pointed, drove into his sides. A kick to the head left him dizzy with spots dancing in his vision. “We gotta finish this before someone catches us,” one of the men said.
Blake’s stomach dropped. They meant to kill him. He struggled to get to his feet, but his attackers were still too closed in around him and nothing in his body seemed to work right. He saw a flare of blue-green magelight – Lorn’s – then felt the stinging of magical bindings wrapping around him. Instantly, he went numb everywhere the bindings were touching him. Then Lorn and another of the larger men picked him up, one holding his shoulders and the other his feet. They hauled him to the back of the carriage, past Mack who whickered in concern, and out the door. They swing him once, twice, then tossed him off the train. His knees hit the ground first, and the unmistakable snap of bone and explosion of pain in one leg were the last things he knew as he bounced down the rocky rise of the rail bed.
* * *
That afternoon
After Cole left, Comfort and Lainie were still stunned, Halna and Bettie and the others in the house gathering around them in concern, when Silas and the men came in from their chores. “I saw Cole riding away down the road back to town,” Comfort’s father-in-law said. “Did he stop here? Is Blake here yet?” As soon as he saw Lainie and Comfort, concern entered his face.
“Yes, Cole was here,” Lainie told him. “He said Blake’s horse was on the one o’clock train, and his things, but Blake wasn’t.”
The look of concern on Silas’s face sharpened, and Blake’s brothers Collen and Garis and brother-in-law Luthe also gave each other worried looks.
“The train stops overnight in Canyon View,” Silas said. “He might have gotten held up there.”
“If he had, he would have wired us,” Lainie answered.
Sick with worry, Comfort spoke up. “There was that time we were on a train, and a gang of outlaws cornered us and we had to jump off.” What if he had had to escape from more outlaws, and got hurt jumping off the train, or worse, was captured and hurt or even killed by them?
“You’re right.” Silas looked at the other men. “Garis, Collen, Luthe. Get ready to ride out. We’ll stop in town, see if anyone who came in on that train saw Blake and find out the last they remember seeing him, then we’ll start following the rails east.”
“But it’s still snowing, and it’ll be getting dark soon,” Comfort said. “I can’t ask you to –”
“Yes, you can,” Silas said. “Anyhow, he’s my boy, I can’t just leave it alone.”
Quickly, the other women helped gather provisions for the expedition while Comfort stood still, holding Eston, numb with fear. The hopes of a festive holiday had crumbled around her, but that didn’t matter. Blake was missing, and the only thing that mattered was finding him. Safe and sound, gods willing.
* * *
Earlier that day
Slowly, Blake became aware of being colder than he’d ever been in his life. The pain came next, though at first it was a distant second to the cold.
He was too cold, he realized. He had to move or he would freeze to death where he lay. His arms were free of the magical bindings; he must have lain here at least a couple of hours, long enough for the bindings to wear off. Though his head pounded with the effort, he forced himself to sit up. Sharp pain flared in his ribs – he had a couple of broken ribs for sure – and his head swam and pounded like someone was driving a stake through it.
He tried to move, and the pain in his leg shocked through him white-hot, blacking out his vision. He fell back, cursing. Broken. Here he was in the worst snowstorm this area had known since being settled, with a broken leg, who knew how many leagues from the nearest ranch or settlement. He couldn’t go anywhere, could hardly move, and already the chill that had sunk into his body was starting to fade into a fuzzy, vague warmth. He tried to drag himself a handspan or two along the ground, and nearly passed out again from the pain.
He was going to die here, of the cold or from his injuries. In frustration and anger, he dug his fingers into the layer of snow and the cold, wet ground beneath it. I’m sorry, sweetheart. Gods, someone, help me. He couldn’t die. He had promised Comfort he would be home to spend this first holiday with her and their son.
But, of course, there was no one to help, and the gods must have been too busy bestowing their blessings for the new year to take notice of him. He did his best to stay awake and conscious, to postpone the inevitable, but as the pain faded with the cold, he felt himself drifting away…
Some time later, he had no idea how long, a great shadow darkened his dimming vision. A scent of animal musk and hot iron, a breath of hot wind carrying that same iron scent washing over him, the cold and pain fading away, the world seeming to fall away from him…
* * *
Before long, Silas, Garis, Collen, and Luthe were ready to ride out. As the other ranch hands gathered around to find out what was happening, two of them also volunteered to join the search party. Surrounded by the concerned women, Comfort was torn between gratitude for the support and feeling like somehow this was all her fault. Lainie had to be as terrified as she was, and Blake’s sisters as well; she should do something to try to support and comfort them. But her mind was too numb with fear to do anything but stand there holding her baby and trying not fall apart.
When the search party was ready to ride out, they all gathered in the yard despite the falling snow. Silas offered up a simple but achingly sincere prayer to the Defender and the Mender, and others added to the prayers. Comfort hadn’t been raised with the same devotion to the gods that the Vendines had, but now she reached out silently with everything in her for their help. Not for myself, she told them. But he’s such a good man, he doesn’t deserve to have anything bad happen to him. And his parents are such good people. And I don’t want our baby to grow up without a father. Tears came to her eyes and her chest ached as she wondered if anyone or anything was listening to her.
The prayers ended, and the men kissed their wives and mounted up. Suddenly from the cloudy sky came a roaring shriek that had become familiar over the last year and a half. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked up. In the midst of the clouds and snow appeared the great winged shape of a dragon. It roared again and let out a long curl of flame.
Comfort stared, along with everyone else. “What’s a dragon doing here?” Lainie asked.
What odd timing, Comfort thought. And now that she thought about it, there was something especially familiar about that particular dragon’s call. It roared again as it circled lower as though to land in the yard.
“Whiskey!” she gasped, remembering the voice of the dragon she and Blake had ridden on to the fight against her father and his outlaws at the Gap. But why?
“Looking for something to eat?” Silas guessed out loud. He had on occasion in the past offered up a head of beef that was scheduled for butchering anyway to a visiting dragon.
Seeming to exercise great care, Whiskey slowly landed – but only on his hind legs. Cradled in his front legs was something that he gently laid on the ground. A person –
“Blake!” Comfort cried. She ran to him, Silas and Lainie close on her heels, and dropped to her knees beside him. His eyes were closed, his face bruised and blood-smeared, and he wasn’t moving. Her heart in her throat, she pressed two fingers to the pulse point in his neck. His heart was beating. Her terror fled, leaving her weak with relief; she didn’t know if it was a good pulse or not, but at least it was there.
Blake!” she said over and over, his parents echoing her. “Blake, can you hear me?”
Finally he stirred and groaned. His eyes opened. He looked at her as though trying to focus or figure out where he was. “Comfort?” he said weakly.
“Yes, yes, it’s me! You’re home! What happened? You weren’t on the train and we were so worried!”
He let out another groan, tried to sit up, and fell back. “I was ambushed by some old friends on the train. They let me know how they felt about me, then threw me off the train. I landed bad and broke my leg. Broken ribs, too. But this fella happened along and warmed me up, and I guess brought me home.” He looked up at the dragon, still standing over him protectively, and understanding dawned in his face. “Whiskey?”
Silas was already feeling out Blake’s legs. “I can tell this one isn’t right,” he said, palpating Blake’s left leg above the knee, “Not broken, but… halfway healed?”
“It was broken,” Blake said. “I felt it and heard it break.”
Comfort stood, handed Eston off to Lainie, and laid her hands on Whiskey’s flank. With her mage senses, she sent a question to the dragon. Tell me what happened.
Images, sensation, feelings came to her. Flying, looking for a beef to bring to his new mate, a sudden sense of urgency, a plea for help. A familiar mind, along with a voice greater than the world telling him to come. Blake lying unmoving and cold and broken on the ground, his mind growing weaker. A breath of warm healing magic, carefully gathering his human friend in his forelegs, flying to the place his friend’s fading mind longed for. Seeing more humans he knew gathered together – the right place.
Thank you, Comfort sent with her whole heart to the dragon. Thank you. I’m so grateful. She turned to those gathered around her. “He was in the area, hoping to find someone to give him a beef to take home to his mate, and sensed someone he knew was in trouble. He used healing magic on Blake, and brought him home.”
Lainie patted the dragon on the flank. “Good boy, Whiskey. Silas, we can spare a beef for him, don’t you think?”
“I reckon so. I’ll take care of it, the rest of you get Blake inside.”
Collen and Garis came to Blake, and with his arms over their shoulders, helped him to his feet. Comfort followed closely, filled with a mix of joy and concern. Truly the gods had shown their face to her and Blake that day, sending their dragon friend to bring him safely home to her. But would Blake be all right?
* * *
The guests began arriving. The Ashlunds, the Nordens, the Garrows, Betita’s parents, other friends and neighbors, Ap and Joren and their families and the rest of the hands, all crowding into the brightly-lit parlor, kitchen, and dining room and even spilling out onto the porch around the house in the snowy evening. Several of the women joined Lainie in the kitchen, helping her catch up on the work that had gone undone; on hearing what had happened, Mr. Ashlund and Mr. Norden both offered up additional beefs for the dragon that was the hero of the day.
Cleaned up, his injuries tended, changed into clean clothes, Blake was given the place of honor in Silas’s armchair in the parlor. Comfort sat with him, anxiously watching him while Eston played on the floor with the other little ones. The bruising on his face was obvious even on his Island-dark coloring, and while the numerous cuts and scrapes had already started healing thanks to healing magic, it was still clear that he had been through an ordeal and had a long way to go. But he was looking a little stronger and livelier now.
The feast was laid out. Lainie had outdone herself, with contributions from the other women. Roast beef, roast chickens, roast pork, spicy beans and bacon, cooked greens, potatoes, dumplings, gravy, brown bread, sour-everlasting bread, fruit conserves, cookies, pies, cakes, wine, whiskey, hard and easy cider, hot ginger tea and brewed chickroot… To Comfort’s surprise and relief, Blake asked for a little of everything. She wouldn’t have thought that, as badly hurt as he was, he would have much of an appetite. But he ate like he hadn’t seen food in days, and though Comfort felt like she should help him eat, he managed fine on his own.
When the eating finally slowed down, Betita got out her fiddle and Collen his guitar; in the months before their wedding, he had taken up the instrument so they could play together. They started up a lively song, standing up and dancing together as they played, joined by one ranch hand on the tin pipes and another with a set of hand drums. Most everyone else, adults and children alike, joined in the dancing lines that circled the players and wound through the house.
Sitting next to Blake, Comfort watched and listened, tapping her toe along with the music.
“Let’s dance,” Blake said.
“But, you shouldn’t. You’re hurt.”
“Not that bad.”
“But you broke your leg this morning!”
“And Whiskey mended it. The dragon,” he added. “Not the drink.”
Despite herself, Comfort laughed at their old joke. “Are you sure you feel up to it?”
“It’s my first New Moon with my wife and son. And the first in a long time with the rest of my family. And a dragon brought me home. It’d be a crime to miss out on the dancing.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that. Come on, then.”
He stood. Gingerly, leaning a little more heavily on Comfort than the bravado of his words would have suggested, he led her into a slow, careful dance. In her husband’s arms, Comfort sighed happily, finally letting herself feel a full measure of joy. It was New Moon, she was with family and friends who loved her, whom she belonged with, and best of all, Blake was here, safe and sound, and he and she and their baby were a real family together.
The gods had smiled down on her indeed.
* * *
Copyright 2026 Kyra Halland. All Rights Reserved.
