The Red Pearl by C. K. Brooke

heaven’s sake! But her deep-set trauma was paralyzing. With her feet glued to the ground, she was incapable of clear thought, of movement. She became fear itself. She stared back at the wild dog with one silent prayer urging through her head like a mantra: Not again. Not again….
    The coyote bumped its snout aggressively against the basket once more, undoubtedly smelling the contents therein. Antonia could see the shape of its ribs through its bristly, fox-brown fur. The creature was starving, desperate. It was certain to attack if she held out much longer.
    A deep bellow of barking came from behind. Antonia gasped, raising her hands to her ears in terror and dropping the basket to the ground. In a flash of black, Maverick bounded before her, snarling at the coyote and peddling his paws. Antonia screamed as the coyote lunged. But Maverick pounced on it, clamping his teeth over the animal’s throat.
    “Annie!” Robin raced up the hill, his half-buttoned blouse clinging to his chest with perspiration. “Maverick!”
    At the sound of his master’s voice, the black dog released his opponent and turned. The coyote gripped the basket handle between sharp, spindly fangs, and took off at a loping run toward the mountain range.
    “No!” Antonia screeched, darting after it, but was too late. The creature disappeared around a series of turns she could not make out, brown fur camouflaging with the scenery. She collapsed to her knees, overcome with breathless sobs. “No.”
    Robin knelt beside her. “What on earth was that?” He peered out to the mountains, into which the wild creature had scrambled off.
    “C-coyote,” Antonia choked, eyes streaming. It was bad enough she’d given away his map. But now…
    He wrapped an arm around her. “It’s all right.” His voice was gentle, which only made her weep harder. “I know you hate dogs. But it’s gone now. No need to be so shaken.”
    “You don’t understand,” she cried, pulling away. She couldn’t bear to be comforted by him when her own irrational phobia had just permitted an unthinkable wrong be done against the man and his kindly father. “The coyote took the basket! And the basket had our f-food inside, and—”
    Robin watched her patiently. She dropped her face into her hands. She didn’t wish to witness his expression when she finally informed him: “The key.”
    There came a long pause. “Key?” he finally asked.
    “To the horseless carriage.”
    He said nothing at first, and Antonia kept her face buried. She was afraid to look at him, fearful that he might shout at her, curse her, banish her. And she would surely deserve it.
    “I thought I’d left the key in the ignition,” he said, very quietly.
    “I removed it,” she whimpered, “and put it in the basket for safekeeping.”
    He stared in disbelief. “That carriage is Thad’s only prototype,” he murmured. “If we can’t drive her out of the desert, then she’s stuck here for good, to rot. I promised him I’d take excellent care of it…”
    “Oh, Robin.” Antonia shook her head in despair. “I’m so sorry. You’ll never forgive me. Your father—” she hiccupped—“who was so kind to me, will be h-heartbroken.” Her face seared with tears. “I don’t deserve any more of your…or your family’s…charity. I understand…if you choose to leave me here.”
    “And go where?” He emitted a curt laugh, startling her. “Without the carriage, we’re both stranded.”
    She finally dared to look at him. “Do you hate me?”
    He massaged his jaw, where a trace of reddish beard was returning. “No, Antonia. I don’t hate you.” Abruptly, he rose to his feet. “Only, I think you need to overcome your fear of dogs. You’ve been with Maverick for days now, and he’s not harmed you, has he? As a matter of fact, just now, he was protecting you.”
    Antonia sniffled. Why, although his booming bark had terrified her, causing her to drop the basket in the first place, Maverick had