Irene Radford - Thistle Down

“But… but, Dusty, we’re friends. I thought…”

“That’s all we are, Joe. Just friends. And I thank you for the years of friendship we’ve shared. I don’t love you as you need to be loved. Now go home. We have full schedules all day and evening tomorrow.”

“The Masque Ball. Is that all you can think about?” he asked sullenly.

Relief washed through her. She knew for certain now that she’d made the right choice. Joe needed her, but he didn’t love her. He’d hurt for a while, more from wounded pride than a broken heart. In the end, their friendship would remain, even if… no when he moved on to the teaching position at the community college.

“Right now I’m thinking about a whole lot more than the Masque Ball.” She turned back to face Chase, rose on tiptoe, and returned his kiss.

A quiet shift in the air pressure told her that Joe had left.

“Um, Dusty, as much as I’d like to walk you home and spend the rest of my life with you, I’ve… uh, got work to do,” Chase murmured, barely lifting his mouth from hers.

“Huh?”

“Our favorite mechanic has taken exception to the principal’s choice of music. I’ve got to break up this fight before it spreads.” He broke away from her and dove into the fray that had spread to a dozen people.

Thistle giggled.

“Well, aren’t you going to spread some Pixie magic and stop this?” Dick asked.

“Don’t need to. Chase will handle it, and then Dusty will nurse his hurts.”

“And what will we do?” Dick strained against her grasp of his hands.

“Dance. Pixies love to dance almost as much as we love to fly.”

Dusty wondered why Thistle sounded so sad when her own heart soared and danced with the fullness of true Pixie love.

THISTLE GATHERED HER ARMY at the museum grounds three hours before the Masque Ball. If Chicory and his brothers and their girlfriends could be called an army.

“Those clouds are sticking to the mountains like dog drool on wings,” Thistle pouted. “Or Faery rules on a Pixie.” She glared at the towering white clouds with black underbellies that shrouded the big mountain from view.

“Mabel calls it magnetics and talks about shifting air pressure,” Chicory joined her scowl. He and his band had grown to human size but kept their wings and flower garb to blend in with the costumed party guests. Of course they couldn’t actually fly. All of their magic went into maintaining their size rather than working their wings.

“Can we tickle them over this way?” Thistle asked, missing her wings and her magic more than ever. “If we could just get a little shower this afternoon to cool things down a bit, then they can let loose with everything they’ve got after moonset.”

“I don’t think those clouds are gonna bust loose even if every Pixie in the region joined in.”

“Hmmm. I wonder.”

“Don’t even think it, Thistle. Rosie objected mightily to us helping you at all,” Aster chimed in.

“She doesn’t believe in tribes joining up for anything other than a marriage treaty,” Delph added.

“And she’s sorely missing her betrothed. Hay hasn’t been around in days and days,” Chicory said.

“You guys haven’t seen him or Phelma Jo at all?” Thistle looked away from the problem of the clouds toward her allies, and hopefully friends.

“Not a sign. And we’ve been all over town,” Daisy said. “Ditch weed flowers can go where royalty can’t. And we’ve been everywhere a Pixie can get into.”

“We even peered into The Ten Acre Wood, just in case,” Aster said.

“We can’t get in there, even from above.” Chicory shook his head. “I landed on the top branch of the tallest Douglas fir that sticks above the energy wall, but I couldn’t get through the wall, only look for signs of life down below. Lots and lots of activity, but it’s all down low, and it’s either angry fast, or sullen slow. Nothing bright and happy in Alder’s kingdom.”

“Hay can’t get in there either,” Daisy reminded them.

“Okay. I have an idea,” Thistle said. “I’m sending Dick into The Ten Acre Wood to take a look around.”

“He’s human. He should be able to get through the wall,” Chicory agreed.

“While he’s doing that, I want you six to get back to normal size and go see what you can do with those clouds. Take with you every Pixie from every tribe you can find. We really need some relief in this town, or the Ball is going to break into fistfights just like the bar did last night.”

“That will be fun.” Delph grinned hugely.

“For you, maybe. Not for Dusty.”

“Oh, yeah. Dusty. Mabel reminded us this morning that this is Dusty’s day and we shouldn’t do anything to upset her.”

“Did you hear that Dusty and Chase stayed up after the bar fight until almost dawn, talking and kissing?” Daisy asked. “They are truly in love.” Her eyes looked at Chicory with adoration.

“Good. Now go see what you can do about those clouds. Take with you every Pixie willing to go, no matter which tribe.”

“What are you going to do?” Chicory asked.

“Make sure everyone has fun at this Ball. Especially Dusty. Which may mean messing with her cell phone so her mother can’t call her again .”

“Can I have a real gun like yours?” Dick asked as he fondled the toy weapon riding low on his left hip. He pulled his neckerchief up over his mouth and nose like any self-respecting Wild West bandit.

“No,” Chase replied firmly.

“Why not?”

“Because I’m wearing a badge and you aren’t.”

“I can get a badge.”

“A real badge?” Chase shook his head in dismay. “No. You aren’t twelve anymore. Act like a grownup.”

“Oh, you’re no fun. The Masque Ball is supposed to be about acting out your fantasies. I want to hold up the stagecoach and ravish the ladies.”

Chase snorted. “Can you, just this once, get your mind out of the gutter and pay attention? I need you to walk the perimeter and keep your eyes out for either Hay or Phelma Jo.” He scanned the throng of volunteers, some costumed, some still in rough work clothes, as they put the finishing details on the décor and catering.

“And what will you be doing?” Dick pulled his cowboy hat low over his eyes. “Ravishing my sister?” He wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Happy for Dusty, yeah. Afraid for her? Yeah, that, too.

Chase hadn’t been any better than himself when it came to commitments. He really, really hoped that Chase had just been waiting for Dusty, as Dick had been waiting for… for Thistle. And it looked like he’d have to wait forever.

“I’ll be keeping my eyes on the politicos and my ears open to stray conversations. Everyone is hot and miserable. There’s static coming from the electronics, and the food is wilting. This could be a disastrous fund-raiser.” Chase carried through his words by keeping his gaze moving and bouncing back and forth from toe to heel, just in case he had to move in a hurry. He had done the same thing on the football field.

“You got a point there. At least the girls can wear those light and airy Pixie costumes.” Dick’s gaze strayed to where Thistle, wearing bright purple draperies and a tiara, but no wings, was ordering people about.

She was becoming quite the organizer. She’d even managed to get most of her elderly clients here, even if they were in wheelchairs. Mrs. Spencer held court beside the guest book where everyone in town could reminisce about school days with her.