“Okay.”

Floyd looked ruefully at her. “Okay, says the girl who doesn’t mind getting punched in the face with a fistful of buckshot. Loup, is there any evidence after all these years that anyone helped you? Any proof?”

She shook her head. “No. I mean, they’ll figure out people like Father Ramon guessed it afterward, but there’s no way they can prove anyone helped me.”

“Good.” He nodded. “Insist that you acted alone. Whatever they do, stick to your story. And no matter what they say, no matter what they promise you, don’t trust them. I suspect in time they’ll have to accept it as nothing more than childish pranks played by a very… unusual… child. One, perhaps, with a delusion of destiny.”

“Santa Olivia.”

“Precisely.”

“So why do you wanna change the date?” Loup asked.

“I’m not sure it’s wise to foster the semblance.”

She puzzled out the meaning. “I don’t think it matters, sir.

They’re gonna know anyway. And I don’t think people are gonna rise up over this, try to make them give me back or anything. It’ll just give them… I dunno. Hope, maybe. That things can change, that we’re not always gonna be all alone here.”

“Delusions of destiny,” Floyd murmured.

Loup shrugged. “Well, it’s a pretty crappy destiny, but yeah.”

“All right. We’ll keep the date.” He fell silent again, regarding her with his watery gaze. “Loup, there is a chance that Miguel Garza will come out of this with a ticket to the outside world. If he does, he’ll be very closely monitored. If someone like Miguel were to get in touch with the better angels of his nature and take it upon himself to become Outpost’s least likely hero and, say, contact the media in an attempt to bring the edifice crashing down, I very much hope that he would be circumspect.”

“Circumspect?”

“Careful.”

She gave him a look of wide-eyed innocence. “Okay. But I don’t see Mig being that guy, sir.”

He returned a dry smile. “Neither did he.”

The old year gave way to the new. Loup’s training intensified. She maintained a base level of conditioning, running endless miles to nowhere on the treadmill in the garage. Working the bags, hitting the weights. She began sparring four times a week, Kevin and Miguel working a staggered schedule. She honed her skills, all of them dedicated to fighting a taller, stronger opponent.

Defense: slipping and ducking and crouching, making herself an impossibly small target.

Offense: getting inside, working the body. Scoring points.

“It’s not enough!” Miguel, sweating, scowled at her. “You gotta go for the knockout, Loup. You gotta.”

“Okay.” She threw an uppercut, connecting with the side of his padded chin.

Miguel’s eyes rolled up in his head, showing the whites. His knees gave way, his body sagging to the canvas.

“Break!” Floyd called.

“You okay, Mig?” Loup stood over him, peering at him.

“Yeah.” His eyes opened. He moved his jaw experimentally, lying flat on his back on the stained canvas. “Yeah. Like that. Trust me, you can’t count on the judges, sweetheart. That game’s rigged. You gotta give the people something they can see. Something they can believe in, something no judge can ignore.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good.”

Days that had crawled began to pass more quickly. With a month to go, word leaked out from the army that the fighter who’d killed Tom Garron was returning to fight a mystery opponent on Santa Olivia’s day. The town began to buzz with speculation. Bets were made, hoards of money changing hands. The popular money was on Miguel Garza, amid complaints that it was all a publicity stunt.

“Sure wish I could place a bet on you,” T.Y. said. “I’d make a pile.”

“Don’t you dare.”

“I won’t. I won’t! Even C.C.’s not that dumb.” He watched Loup ease a barbell back into its cradle. “We all kept your secret pretty good, huh?”

She laughed. “You blabbed to C.C. a week after I told you!”

T.Y. flushed. “Yeah, well, after that.”

“Yeah, you did.”

He handed her a water bottle. “I’m gonna miss the hell out of you, Loup.”

She drank. “I thought I was the most boring person on the planet.”

“Don’t tease. I mean it. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna pull a Pilar and try to talk you out of it. I get why you’ve gotta do this. Haven’t I been here every day, helping you? I’m gonna miss you, that’s all.” T.Y. shrugged. “Nothing’s gonna be the same without you.”

Loup smiled. “Thanks. I’m gonna miss the hell out of you, too.” She drank again, lowered the bottle. “And Pilar did get it.”

“I wondered if you were gonna let that slide.” He added weight to the barbell. “You seen her?”

“No.” She laid back down on the bench.

It wasn’t entirely true. Once, when her heart was especially restless and aching, Loup had walked past Rory Salamanca’s house on her way home from the gym. It was late enough that almost all the residential areas were dark, generators shut down for the night. Not the street where the Salamanca family lived. All Rory’s lights were ablaze. Inside, Rory and Pilar were sitting at a dining table while an older woman served dishes. Rory was talking, gesturing animatedly, while Pilar listened to him with her chin in one hand.

She didn’t look enthralled, but she didn’t look unhappy.

Loup had watched for a long time, then walked home.

“Are you gonna see her?” T.Y. asked.

“Why do you care?” Loup hoisted the barbell and did a set. “You’re the one never thought she was good enough for me.”

“Yeah, but you did.”

FORTY-FIVE

The last month fled.

It seemed impossible after all the endless hours of training, but it did. Day after day slipped away until there were almost none left.

“I want you to come in tomorrow for a last session with Miguel,” Floyd said on the second-to-last day. “Mig, can you make seven a.m.?”

He grunted. “If I have to.”

Floyd consulted his chart. “You do. Okay, Loup. Miguel in the morning, then a light workout on your own. Don’t overdo it. You’re primed and ready. We don’t want to overtrain and take the edge off.”

“Okay.”

He looked up. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” she said simply. “I’m glad it’s almost here.”

The coach nodded. “Good girl.”

Back at the church, Sister Martha pulled Loup aside and asked about her regimen for the last day.

“Why?” Loup asked after telling her.

The nun-who-wasn’t-a-nun smiled. “Anna and Ramon wanted it to be a surprise, but I wanted to make sure we weren’t interfering with Mr. Roberts’ orders. We’re planning a supper in your honor.” A shadow of sorrow colored her smile. “A last supper, I suppose. A reunion. All the Santitos will be there.”

She caught her breath. “All?”

Sister Martha amended her words. “Almost all.”

“But not Pilar.” Loup cocked her head. “Did you invite her?”

“No.” She hesitated. “I didn’t think you’d want… No. I didn’t think, to be perfectly honest. After so many years, I ought to know you better. Of course you’d want her there.” She gave a brisk nod. “I’ll send Dondi over with an invitation right away.”

“No, don’t. I’ll do it.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” Loup smiled wryly. “I was gonna go over there tomorrow anyway.”

“Of course you were.” Sister Martha touched Loup’s cheek, her blue-gray eyes soft. “Our fearless child. I wish to fucking Christ I was sure letting you do this was the right choice.”

“I didn’t exactly give you a choice,” Loup admitted.

“True.”

On the eve of Santa Olivia’s day, she awoke filled with a sense of brightness. At the gym, Miguel eyed her, yawning.

“What are you so fuckin’ happy about?”

“I just am.”

After they warmed up, Miguel pulled himself together and gave her a good final sparring match, crisp and forceful. The coach nodded his approval, setting his charts and notes aside for the last time.

“You’re ready, child,” he said when they finished. “You’re as ready as God and man can make you.”

“So that’s it?” Miguel spat out his mouthpiece. “We’re done?”

“You are.”

He hesitated. “What about you, kid? Whaddya gonna do with yourself today? You want company?”

“Nah.” Loup shook her head. “I’ve got some stuff to do and they’re having a special dinner for me at the church tonight.”

Miguel shrugged. “Okay, then.”

“Thanks, Mig.” She touched her gloved fist to his shoulder. “For everything. I never thought I would of said this to anyone after Tommy died, especially you, but you’ve been kind of like a brother to me.” She grinned. “A big grouchy, pervy brother.”

He laughed. “Yeah, well… I’ll see you tomorrow, huh? Me and McArdle will be in your corner.”

“We’ll meet here at five,” Floyd confirmed. “They’ve agreed to postpone the weigh-in until tomorrow. I’ve arranged for an escort to the town hall.”

“Fancy, fancy,” Miguel said.

“It’s a big day.” His gaze rested on Loup. “You know what to do?”

She nodded. “A light workout today. Lots of carbs, early to bed. Tomorrow, nothing but warm-up and stretching.”