Shayne was through his third pack of cigarettes. Each successive flimsy paper packaging began to gradually accrue around his boots. Even the trailer's horse seemed impatient, scraping at the barren ground with its front hoof. The carriage practically beckoned Shayne to come nearer, to see behind the purple curtain.
The gruff-voiced henchmen in velvet suits held up a white-gloved hand. "Don't even think about it."
"This gonna happen or what?" Shayne grumbled
"Waltham does not conduct himself on your time, nor anyone else's time. You want a meeting? You will wait your turn."
"I got deadlines to meet, people to fuck. You understand right?" Shayne placed his hands on his hips. "Oh, right, you probably don't."
Just as the Waltham agent tightened his grip around his golden-globed baton, a smudge of golden light rocketed down from the sky. It came to an abrupt stop after sailing through the open carriage roof window.
Seconds later, Waltham strode out,. "Do make this quick, Hunter, I have business." In his left hand, his pocket watch
"What, golf?"
Waltham shot a threatening glance from the corner of his eye. "You have ten minutes."
Exasperated, the bounty hunter put his hand on his hip and scratched under his hat. "Do you know the situation here in the south?"
"I know that you still haven't completed your contract. Your mark still roams free, and you're squandering time." He waved the back of his hand to the wasteland around him, before jerking his open palm forward to point at the hunter.
Jacob pinched his forehead and sighed. "Time's not exactly the issue, right now."
Waltham raised an eyebrow. "It might not be yours. But it is mine. The longer you leave him, the easier it will be for him to get away."
"Getting him isn't exactly that easy right now. He's armed and surrounded by guards and lunatics. We're working overtime rounding up a posse to go after him, but the dough isn't stretching far enough. People need to be paid, sir.."
"Frankly, I'm fully aware of that, Mr. Hunter. And I'm sure, since you wasted all this time, you want my hard earned cash to finance your extended prodigality."
"Yeah, hard-earned by your employees." Shayne crossed his arms.
"What was that?"
"It doesn't matter. This is not about want, it's about necessity. Anima was something small to begin with, but since they got him out of prison, since he killed the big bad whoever, he was far too heavily armed to be dealt with quickly." The bounty hunter chose to widen his silhouette by opening his arms and leaning against the wall with his hand.
"So what, you're telling me you can't do it?"
Shayne Jacobs could feel his the chains on his chest pressing on him tighter as he got angrier. "Oh no, Mister, President of the Company, CEO. I can do it. In fact I don't there's anyone more motivated on the planet to do it. You need me."
"Like hell I do." Waltham's gentlemanly exterior faltered for the rage underneath. "Are you going to deal with them or not?"
"I know all about your trouble with the splinter cell back in Gilded Brook. There's no other way to tell if the old guy is going to come back with his zombies. These cults are crazy, for all we know that base became some kind of holy ground for them and they will continue to harass your 'profit-making enterprises' until y'all are forced to yield control to them. If you want to continue making money here in the south, you'll back the right horse." The bounty hunter's tone was openly hostile. He could see the attitude changing in his opponent on his face and posture. Jacobs grinned. "There we go, co-operation. My favourite word. Now, if you think I can take him down like this… With a museum, a musket and a fat man? You're wrong."
"Are you a quitter?" Waltham had angry froth boiling at the edge of his mouth.
"We might as well, if we attack now."
The CEO looked to his feet, taking in a deep breath and wiping his mouth. "How much more do you need? I've given you my contacts in the south."
"Few more goons from lesser bounties can be spared. But it's not going to get done unless we have full Waltham support. That means troops."
"I hope you understand the fact that war is not a money-making exercise, Hunter."
"You protect your assets all the time."
"We protect our profit-making partners. If you haven't noticed, you use our services at a subsidised rate. How much have you paid back into our system? Zero."
Shayne clicked his teeth while looking toward the desert. "We're going to get your money back, the 3 million he stole, is yours."
"Do you think the board are delusional? Mr. Temere will have already squandered it wholesale. We want his skin as an example of those who besmirch the good name of Waltham. To make him earn back every penny he ever spent. If you can't handle this task, I'm more than willing to research other alternatives." He wiped the stray saliva from his angry mouth.
"Listen, listen, man. I am open to further collaboration. you could find some other bounty hunter, but we're already getting on so well. Give me thirty men, I can make up the rest of the shortfall."
Waltham grunted in response, turning away, and toward the carriage.
"Well?" Shayne called to him.
Simultaneously, the front soldier hiked up the steps on the side of the carriage and ready the whips to drive the horses. As the wagon began to pull away, the last Waltham security guard grasped on to the curled metal ornamenting the rear.
"Very well." Mr Waltham flipped a golden disc up in to the air, seconds later it landed at the bounty hunter's feet. "I'll send word to my people, show them that. But don't expect me to foot the entire bill. You need to pull your own weight. Don't fail me, Hunter."
"Thank you, sir, wouldn't dream of it." Jacobs took off his hat and pressed it to his chest, mockingly bowed toward the northern businessman as he sped away.
"Driver! Golf!" He called out. Angrily.
***
Jasper's eyes sparkled with the reflection of the moon at the prospective mayhem. He turned to the other boy and grinned. "Look at that. Aust, a field full of cattle!"
Austen was just gaining his footing on the wooden fencing when he looked up to see what Jasper was seeing. The whole field was an inky blackness, littered by the subtle shifting of masses. "Bully! You can hardly even see 'em."
"But you can for sure smell 'em. And hear them, listen! Even louder than before."
Austen gave an affirmative sound in response.
Jasper swung the other of his legs around and hopped down on to the ground. While Austen was straddling the fence, his eyes were drawn up to the large house on top of the small hill. It appeared to him as on fire because of the sheer amount of open curtains that plumed out light, flooding the surroundings that were starved of illumination. Shapes floated from aperture to aperture, giving the impression that the whole farmhouse was flickering on and off.
A deep sense of envious awe settled over him. Austen spoke out into the void. "I wish we could spend candles like old Gretchen."
"Fat chance, we're poor" Jasper began to walk further toward the livestock.
"Well. You're not," Austen replied immediately, now raising his voice to make sure he's heard.
"Ah, you'd think that, but we're just as poor, we have to pay for more stuff than you, so that's why my parents have to work for every goddamn penny. Even if we git more than you..." Jasper trailed off with his words and glanced back to see why his compatriot was idle.
"Jasp." Austen breathed deeply as he stared off in the distance, as he balanced precariously on top of the fencing. "You sure about this? Old lady Gretchen already hates Ma's guts… and plenty o' money to get us..."
"What are you now, a coward?"
Austen felt blood rush to his face. He retorted on instinct. "Me? I'm no coward." He paused, remembering his hesitations. "Just saying, boys at the well said she twists ya neck till you dead."
"Well, well, well, Austen McConnelly believes in fairy stories, never thought I'd see the day." Jasper joked, putting on an imagined adult voice.
"No I ain't." Austen jumped down from the fence and strode forward, quickly out-pacing his friend before turning around, "C'mon, we doing this or what?" He yelled.
"There's my Aust!" Jasper smirked and followed on after him.
The two boys came alongside the herd and crouched alongside a cow.
"Do ya see it? Do ya see the horse she won?" Jasper asked
"What's it like again?"
"Black-White Thoroughbred, Austen." Jasper said his name with bitterness, causing Austen to recoil.
After a few moments of pressured staring, Austen looked forward again, "No eyes. Must be in the stable on the side of the house."
"Right then." Jasper scurried ahead, leaving the cover of the cow they were beside.
"Jasper, you'll be seen!" Austen shout-whispered over to him.
"Shut up, I know what I'm doing." The boy retorted caustically.
Jasper kept a steady gaze on the house on the hill, whenever there was movement, he ducked and slid over to the nearest animal. The door had been opened but now it was shut.
Jasper was about to look back to call over Austen, but the other boy had already followed in his footsteps and was now a few inches from his face.
"You got here fast, ol' Aust's growing some balls, hey!"
"I'm no wimp, man."
"For sure."
Jasper was about to move ahead, but Austen tapped his friend's arm for a thought. "I just thought, what we gonna tell my ma about how we got our dungarees all mucky?"
Jasper searched his mind for just a moment, but then returned, "Got it. We were helping out at Dennis' farm til the early morning, like that other time we took that cart for racing and got it back by dinner time." Jasper swore "Fuck, do you remember racing down the hill at a hundred miles an hour? Now, that was exciting."
"Oh yeah, fuck, that was good." Austen tried to speak like Jasper, but he really meant what he said. Except it came out awkward.
"Can you remember when Chickey had her dress caught in that wagon wheel? Classic stuff." Jasper laughed at his own callback.
He had stopped moving forward, so it appeared to Austen that they were taking a break there, just the two of them talking side by side, insular, like their chats at sunday school. Like their perfect moments.
"Stellar!"
Jasper seemed eternally happy, he asked and answered questions with a grin which always suggested he possessed a devilish scheme, one way or another.
"How's it goin' with Marcy-Girl? Lumber her yet?"
"Not yet, she's still not talking to me. And you, with Darneel?" Austen felt slightly ashamed of not conquering this feat in becoming a man, but knew Jasper would give him the benefit of the doubt.
"Aye mate, ten times now."
"Wow." Austen simply sat there astonished. Ten times! Jasper is so cool.
"Now there, don't just sit there getting hard. Move on up."
"Right."
Their pathway was overall curving gently to the right, where the majority of the herd was, Austen more or less crawled forward, Jasper had charged. He was going too fast to slow down when the terrain began to curve upwards, becoming too steep to continue. As he fell he made a yelp but managed to swallow anything more. When activity increased in the house on the hill, he was forced back into the cover of the nearby animals. The cow noticed him, curving its neck around to see him. He held up a finger to his lips. The cow didn't seem to care that much. In return, Jasper began to stroke its flank. "There you are, girl." Smiling in a more modest, sincere way.
He quickly looked down at his scratched shin, and served it an exploratory prod. Sucking in air through his teeth, he rolled down the denim back over it. He rose his head and the true extent of the herd-covered hill, the impressive curve and contour of the cattle impressed him.
"One day I'm going to own a herd like this..." He spoke out into the night, barely loud enough to hear.
But Austen heard. He suppressed a chuckle, settling with audible surprise. "You, a townie boy wants a herd?"
"Yeah mate, when my folks would stop at big towns, I read all these real stories from the paper about being a frontiersman, defending the cattle and taking down crabs like Mrs Gretchen. This horse, man. Just the beginning. I'm gonna be rich and buy my own plot of land and then get people to do whatever I want."
Austen was unsure how to reply to the naive honesty of Jasper's dream. As an awkward silence began to crawl in, he took a leaf out of Jasper's book. "Oooo, look at me, the townie, I can read stories from the paper."
To finish it off, Austen stuck out his tongue. He expected laughs. Jasper just shook his head and looked ahead at their goal. Silence. Great job, Austen. Now you insulted him. He thought to himself.
The two moved ahead. Austen made it to the edge of the farm, pressing his back against the fence. He squinted. "I think I can see it!"
"Show me." Jasper craned his neck over the shoulder of the other boy, pulling himself up by Austen's shoulder, and pressing his foot on the edge of the cow's water-trough.
Suddenly a bellowing snort rang out behind them from the deep lungs of Gretchen's stud bull. The sudden gust of air knocked them off their footing. Their footing was lost. Jasper hurtled down toward the water, landing on the front of the trough, forcing it to capsize and spew the water all over them. Austen ran away from the noise. Jasper, now supremely embarrassed and drenched, followed Austen. As the dusty winds ran under their arms and through their hair, stray dust stuck to their soaked clothes, Austen thought they would take flight. With great momentum, they leapt over the fence. Their heartbeat thrumming through their ears, making them effectively deaf until they skidded to a stop.
Breathing hard, Austen held on to Jasper's shoulder for stability. Their energy drained out of them. They just looked at each other's red faces in the dark and grinned. They walked the rest of the way home. After slipping like thieves into their bed, they quickly fell asleep.
"Austen," Jasper shook Austen awake, just like the night before. Except it was morning.
"What?" Austen's soft voice dulled the irritation in his voice.
"Can you help me git my case?" Jasper's eyes darted back and forth to make sure they were not disturbing Mrs McConnelly.
"Sure."
When it was down, Jasper curled open the top of his tan suitcase for a new set of clothes. He smiled to Austen. "She don't even need to see the adventure we made last night." And laughed lightly
"Good thinking."
Jasper was still fitting the left hoop of his dungarees when he came to the quaint table in the one room hovel. Nodding to Mrs McConnelly he hopped on to the seat while Austen slipped their yesterday's clothes in to the water against the rack where his mother had just been scraping off dirt. Austen ran back to the table as soon as he could
When Julianne came around the corner, her heart dropped to see the children sitting so eagerly at the table with their little cherub faces. "Oh… I'm sorry…"
Austen could feel the sadness radiating off from his mother. "What is it?"
Biting back tears, she knelt down at the table and took Austen's hand. "There's not going to be any food today. You remember when I was sick last week?"
It got almost overwhelming as his mother rubbed Austen's hands. He nodded meekly.
"Well, work that Mrs Bailey asked me to do, the work that didn't get done. So I have to pay her instead of food for tonight, and maybe more… I'm not sure. I have a lot of work to catch up on. Hey, but don't worry, this is just life. Don't you worry."
"I wish I could do something."
"I know…" She looked away and stood up. "I've got work to do, and you do too, I hope you can understand."
"Yes, mother…"
***
As the dark tan trousers were pulled up from his ankles to waist, the man grunted. With his elbow, the Deputy pushed open the door, stepping out into the early morning, he curled the belt around the clip and then made sure his holster was secure. He took a brief survey of the village, seeing a small group of boys walk up the hill past the cattle pens as the church began its bells to signify the start of the day. During his stroll over to the sherival outpost, he saw peasants working on their hands and knees. Some were milking the livestock, others plucking crops with their bare hands. On the left, a smattering of cosy houses snuffed out their early morning candles. Deputy Orrey spat out his chewing tobacco before opening the flimsy door to the police station and entering.
"Sorry, young man, I can't hear you! Speak up." An old, shaky voice came from further within.
Orrey instinctively sighed. God damn little old Gretchen Bailey.
"Ma'am, you've already made twenty reports this last week, you can't expect us to already have a culprit!" Deputy Silverston sighed, leaning his elbow on the counter to prop up his cheek.
"Yes, that's right." She stressed the syllables of her voice."Just this morning, my cows were spooked, and I found their water spilled all away." She paused. "It's CORPORATE ESPIONAGE!""
The deputy raised his voice so she could hear him."I'm sorry, Mrs Bailey, but we just can't investigate spilled water… how would we interview the animals, or find suspects?" Deputy Silverston made an exasperated huff and shrugged his shoulders.
"Don't you people have some kind of magic to talk to animals?" She grumbled, finally showing some awareness of the conversation.
Silverston began to clench his fist. "Alright, Ma'am if you're going to lump every native together…"
The side door was opened abruptly. "Silverton," Orrey called out to the man on the desk. "It's your turn to empty the latrine."
Silverton groaned, "It's always my turn to throw it out."
"I'm sorry, which one of us finished the tests first?"
"You."
"Right, so which of us has seniority?"
"You."
"Right, the latrine?" Orrey waved his arm toward the door.
While they were speaking, two boys passed the deputy's station, barely holding back giggles. A cheeky voice, from Jasper, called out. "You alright Ms. Gretchen?"
"Hmmm? Oh, just fine, boys. You look well. Give yours mothers my respect,." She spoke without even turning to face them. "And remind your mother of her overtime, she still owes me, Austen!"
"Gee thanks, ma'am. Have a Good'un!" Jasper said, before bursting out into laughter and scampering away, pulling Austen with him.
Silverton had closed the ledger and began to head out of the room when Gretchen piped up again. Orrey walked up to the counter. "Right, Ms. Margareta Bailey, what can we do for you?"
"Thank God, a real Deputy! Now, what are you going to do about those natives on my land? They moved in a few days ago, and they didn't even listen when I fired my warning shots." She shuffled a little closer to the counter, clutching her handbag.
"Hey, hey, if you want Natives to move you can do a lot better than shooting. People like me can be actually really nice, if you get to know them." Deputy Silverton pointed at her with an open palm.
"Hang on." Deputy Orrey re-opened the ledger in the exact same location as earlier. "How d'you know they're natives?"
"Well, they were in TENTS, and TIPIs." She yelled, so everyone in Jeimas could hear them.
"Uhuh, uhuh." Orrey scribbled down incomprehensive notes of what she was saying in the book, ignoring all of the empty formatted lines for expenses and names of inmates. "And where were they?"
Mrs Bailey leaned over to see what he was writing. "My farm field, the one on the slopes down into the Great Chasm… Also, I think I saw some of them Supers among them."
"Supers? You mean magic users?" Silverston's mouth dropped open and he returned to the counter. "We can't deal with it if its magickers."
"Well, I'll pay extra." She opened her clutch bag and rummaged through it.
"No. No, it's not about that, we just don't have the fire-pow-" SIlverston was in the middle of speaking when Orrey pushed him out the way.
"We can look into it ma'am." Orrey nodded, his hat wobbled with the movement of his head, betraying a receding hairline. "How much are you speaking about?"
"Excuse me, Deputy, are you seriously going to take on a magicker? You'll die!" Silverston grabbed Orrey's arm and gently pulled him away from the counter. His eyes were full of warning and concern.
"Come on, you could always do with an extra buck or two." Orrey whispered in response to the other deputy.
Gretchen continued to ruffle through her money while Orrey and Silverston stared each other down. "I can get someone else to drive off the natives if you want to look for my snake-skin hand-bag, the cow that got on the loose a month ago or investigate who's been making my crop return dwindle."
Silverston turned to Gretchen again. "Ma'am, none of those are things we can help with, that would be a wild goose chase while having no chance of finding your stuff. We don't deal with insignificant things, this is the police."
Gretchen took out a stack of bills in her hand. "Hmmph. Can't do it if it's Supers, not worth anything if it's not Supers. If you're the law, what CAN you do?" Gretchen grumbled and pursed her lips. "Oh, it's probably for the best you're not investigating the espionage, you'll probably just hogtie a random guy, bring him back and it'll happen again and again. Better just call a bounty hunter..."
"Hey, I resent the insinuation-" Silverston began, before being cut off.
Orrey slapped his hand on to the counter and leaned forward. "Ma'am, we can absolutely get rid of those Native squatters for you." He quickly circled around to the front of the desk and took the money from the desk and tucked it into his back pocket.
Silverston widened his eyes, "You want me to come with you?"
"No, no, this is my mission. And mine alone," Orrey held up his hand. "I, as a Deputy of this town, am an agent of the law. And I will sit around no longer. I will enforce the law."
"Woah... okay," A million thoughts raced through Silverston's head, he had little time to think deeply about what was being said.
"Also…" Orrey shone his pearly whites , in his near-signature grin. "You have plenty of forms to finish, right?"
"Well, yes, but you also can't just..."
"Right then, catch you later!" Orrey closed the door on him.
"Ugh, he's just going to go there and be a fool." He swore. "Fucking Orrey, he just wants to be a hero, like all the other white guys..."
Gretchen only smiled at Silverston, "Well, he's my hero. Now, what's YOUR price?"
"I'm sorry, Miss, I have to empty the latrines…" Silverston removed himself from the situation, sighing as he opened the back door. "That Sonovabitch's gonna get himself killed."
***
The sun was no longer yawning by the time he got there, but now it saddled the sky like an overseer. The end of Gretchen's farm sloped down near the cliffs that broke off the Chasm from the rest of the world. But nothing was clearly signposted, which made Orrey regret not asking for more information before he left. But before long he saw the squatters. A sizable conglomeration of tents in all the dullest colours in the world. It looked like a puritannical circus.
Armed with his gun, he dismounted and tied the horse's reins to a rock, because there was literally nothing else there. He approached tenuously, with one hand periodically switching to his lengths of rope attached to the belt, hanging down and banging against his rear.
As he got closer, he lowered himself to inhabit the jungle of string that steadied the erect fabric. Clambering through the maze, occasionally tripping or getting tangled, he eventually made it to the interior of camp from a direction that no one would expect him to come from. The first person he saw, he fed the rope into his hand, quickly jumping forward and pulling across their mouth and pulled them into a nearby tent.
Now on the floor, the criminal he had captured was struggling against him, calling out in a muffled way. While they were struggling, their island of long curly blond hair at the pinnacle of their skull swished over into his mouth, making Orrey sputter. Hoping no one heard them, he snatched a glance behind him to see what he had hit against.
It was at that time that the burliest man he had ever seen let off a loud snore that had been building up for what seemed like hours based upon the drool coming out of his mouth.
He stuck his neck forward to make sure his captive heard him. "Oh shush, I just need you for a bit."
This momentarily made them stop screaming. Pushing them into the dirt floor, he ringed the rope around their wrists and legs. In the process he had dinged their head against the wooden bedpost slightly.
"Fuck. Oops. Sorry, ma'am" he said quietly. "Or sir." He looked left and right uncomfortably. "I can't really tell, what are you?"
In reply, they returned a grunt.
"Oh right, you're tied up. Sorry." He replied. He just needed to stash this one somewhere, and then scout out the rest of the camp. It can't be that hard. He thought...
***
In the burning heat, the stick dug into Austen's shoulders, small splashes spilled over from the water sloshing in the two buckets hung on each end. When it hit his skin, he felt like it might evaporate that very second.
"You know you didn't have to stand up for me like that." Jasper admitted, brushing the dirt off the bum of his clothing.
"Hey, you'd do the same for me."
"Oh, for sure, anything." Jasper looked down and to the side. "You sure you know where we're going?" Their feet had to follow the pale groove that etched its path into hardened earth.
"Yeah, I always take this way when the other boys are after me."
While Jasper was thinking up a response, he noticed the red sand gently sloping toward the cliff when his eyes landed among the field of tents flying black sunrise flag. Almost immediately, he pulled his friend down with him behind a rock. His mother's water spilling across the sand, making it brown and murky.
"The water!" Austen exclaimed but Jasper ignored him.
"Look at that!"
"What?! The camp?"
"No, stupid." Shaking his head just slightly, in the way that had become familiar to Austen to mean he had disappointed him. "The horse." He turned to beam at Austen, "It's barely hitched, unguarded, no one can see it." Jasper's eyes lit up with so much light that not even Austen could contain it.
"Jasper, do you think…" Austen started.
"Imagine what we could do with our own horse! We'd could do so much."
"But what if they're bad guys?"
"Well, then, they shouldn't have it anyway!" Jasper returned a cheeky grin toward Austen before pulling forward.
Jasper skidded to his knees in front of the horse and began to tug at the various tangled threads of rope. Austen stood, scared that they were going to get caught
"C'mon, c'mon."
"I'm on it!"
Austen could feel the anxiety pumping his blood around his body. Soon, the rope had come loose and snaked around Jasper's hands. Triumphantly, Jasper hurled it up and over the rump of the horse. In a swift movement he attempted to hoist himself up, but his shoes refused to grip on to the hide. He lacked the height to do this elegantly and it was annoying the animal.
"Hey, Aust." He said out of the corner of his mouth, while still facing the horse.
Austen instantly turned his head to his friend. "Oh, right." The slightly taller kid immediately went on to his knee and held his hand together over his knee. When Jasper gripped his curled hair and pressed his foot into Austen's hand, he rose with all his might. With a grunt from Austen, Jasper scrambled on to the horse from the elevated height.
"Ah!" He yelled triumphantly.
Austen surveyed the horse with some reservations, he could hardly believe they had won. They finally owned a horse! Jasper was too busy shortening the stirrup length to accommodate his own legs that he didn't even see Austen holding up his hand to be pulled on to the horse. When Jasper was done, he leaned left while holding the saddle with his right hand and pulled Austen on to the open section of the saddle right behind him. He steadied and repositioned himself while using Jasper's shoulders and jeans as climbing holds.
"Alright! Let's go!" Jasper howled and pulled the horse's head away from the post. He dug his small boots into her undercarriage to make her go. Quickly the barren sand was flowing through their hair and the camp was becoming further and further away. In their wake, the two pails laid bare in the sound, kicking along in the rustle of the wind.
***
Soon enough, the lid stuck in place and Orrey could stop pushing down on it. Just to make sure, he untied one of the things around him and wrapped the rope from that item around the barrel length-ways just so the crony couldn't push it open. When he heard some footsteps behind him, he immediately hid inside the nearest tent, drawing his gun to his lips.
"There we go, all ready to be taken… Hang on, who untied this?" Tutting, she surveyed the area, Orrey could see her from the gap in the tent. When she approached the far corner of the supply plinths, he retracted himself further inwards and held his breath.
"Hey, you, who the hell organised this?"
A passerby voice responded. "She did."
Orrey could hear her audibly point. "You, who the fuck are you?"
"I answer only to Leroy."
"You don't even answer your name?"
While the argument continued outside, Orrey took a breath of relief. While the large slumbering giant's icicle of spit had only elongated, he now had a way in. None of them seemed to know each other. So all he needed was to play it cool. Slotting away his revolver, he straightened his posture and hovered his arms by his side, making sure his coat covered his deputy badge.
"Hey, I was told that Leroy asked for me?" Orrey used the only name he knew.
"Big tent." She didn't even look at him. Orrey quickly sauntered past, his heart fluttering with his success. He had thought he had a lead, he would take down the big wig, or talk them to move on, and he would be a hero. But what if it went wrong? No, he couldn't entertain that kind of self-doubt for that was the staple of a weak mind.
He pulled back the curtain with bravado, interrupting the various men and women talking in a circle about tasks being completed or not. A hush fell amongst the elite as they all sized up the deputy. Putting a hand on his holster and standing up straight. Orrey loudly declared. "I need to talk... " He began to squint at the vaguely forming faces. "To whoever runs this place." He paused as the faces started to become somewhat familiar.
Shadow. Wanted. Engine behind the criminal enterprise. The Necromancer, Wanted. Mass murder. Anima. Wanted. Torture. As the gawking faces came in to focus, an intense wave of fear made him unsteady on his feet. It was almost everyone on the 'religious nutjob' section of the Felony catalogue. Shadow gripped her throne. Josiah adjusted his stetson to assess the newcomer. Anima languished in his chair, boiling in the heat. The various observing representatives of the major gangs shifted in their seats, as if startled. Before anyone else could react. Leroy leapt up and began to draw his gun. Altan looked to Anima's disciples, the Devoted and directed them with a flick of the wrist.
Not only had the deputy let his golden star show, his own face of shock betrayed the illusion that he could leave unharmed. The deputy knew who they were without question. For the egregious crime of curiosity, the man was caught. Hunted like an animal before being tied down. Soon his feet were raised to the sky, nailed to the top of a wooden column. Blood dripped from his hands and rushed to his head. Screaming as the lashing wounds inflicted by Altan's nine-tailed whip pressed against the rotten crucifix.
***
Initially, Austen was preoccupied with worrying about potential retribution from whoever owned the horse, but felt safer when he could see the village centre. In all the rush, he had hardly noticed how tightly he was clinging around Jasper's stomach for stability.
Noticing where they were, the adrenaline of running away now fading, he turned his head and admonished Austen. "Don't hold on to me so tight." He brushed his arms away, "You'll make us look like some kind of inverts."
Austen immediately pulled away, now balancing precariously on the rump of the horse. He swore under his breath. Putting on an air of playful bravado, he retorted."Fuck off, I'm gonna fall off with nowt support."
"We'll have it all done soon, just stop bitching."
"Fine." Austen pressed his leg on to the horse as if it would magically hold him to the beast. After going over a ridge, he urgently gripped the edge of the saddle for any kind of stability.
Soon enough, he didn't need to worry about falling, they had made it to the house that overlooked Gretchen's Pasture.
"You stay here, I'm gonna get my horse." Jasper retracted his leg from the left side of the horse and then jumped to the ground, throwing the reins into Austen's hands. He rushed over to the stable annex like a child. The next few moments would rear disappointment as the lock stayed firmly hooked around the lock. The horse let out what Austen could only interpret as a snort of derision at the boy.
"The key must be inside." Austen slid down from the side of the saddle horse and came up alongside him.
"Duh." Jasper replied, taking a step back from the house to survey all the entry points. Being a two story house, there were several upstairs windows and ledges, as well as a simple way to the second story, by scrambling up on to the top of the horse box, but he would need Austen's help to do so.
While Jasper's head cogs were turning, Austen rattled the front door. "No luck."
"'Course not, come on, help me up here." Jasper came to the rim of the barrel and gestured his head towards the barrel. "You get on first. I'll use you like a ladder!"
Austen looked away, fearing the embarrassment coming when he inevitably slips up and they both fall down. "You sure?"
"Yeah, it'll be fine."
Though the posture was precarious and the barrel was wobbly when Jasper wasn't holding it, Austen managed to get on top. Now, all he had to do was to get Jasper up on the barrel with only an inch between them and push him up onto the stable without seeming weak.
For Jasper, climbing up Austen was like climbing a sweaty tree. Aust tried to lend a hand by attempting to lift him and Jasper was slightly shorter than Austen, it didn't help much. Soon enough, he was on top of the stable. The horses whinnied at the peculiar thudding above them. Nobody was particularly around, the searing heat of midday made anyone but the highly motivated lethargic.
"Jas?"
He looked down over the edge to his friend, he was holding his hand up.
"No, I have t'test it or they'd be no reason for you up."
To Austen, exploring was something they always did together. In the end, he simply buried it with everything else he never said to Jasper O'Leary.
The imperfect frosted glass made snooping difficult. He applied pressure to the edge of the glass but there was little movement. It only took a second glance to see that the window was nailed shut from the inside. Faced with defeat that he wouldn't accept. He backtracked, taking in the view of the house from this flank, tip toeing on top of the gable.
"Well?"
"Blocked. But I think there's a way in. Git up." Jasper said as he extended his arm down. Austen took it and was yanked up on to the nest formed naturally where the wall meets the stable.
"What now?"
"Get me on t'roof." Jasper nodded him over, "Gretchen's got a chimney." Getting up on the roof was tricky but not impossible. It ended in them delicately shuffling upon the edge of the gable until reaching the smoke stack. Jasper quickly swung his legs in to the large cuboid brick silo and pried the grating off the top.
"I woulda never thought of going this way."
"Well, I did it before for a few pennies when Ma and Pa were in town, thought if I could make it way up, I could make it down"
Before sinking into the brick silo, Jasper took a survey of Austen's face, it was creased with concern, far beyond what was justified. Jasper coyly glanced away before returning his gaze. "Relax, Christ's sake."
Almost shocked, Austen dropped his expression for just a moment. After shaking his head to rattle his thoughts into place, he nodded. Jasper didn't hesitate, he dropped down into the chimney, squeezing past the indent. He felt the tube widening and his grip on the edges slipping. Frantically pressing his hands and legs to the wall, resulting in a layer of skin becoming moist with blood. "Fuck." Jasper uttered a hushed curse. Trying to breathe made his lungs feel like they were being crushed. From below him, a raspy snore thundered, disturbed by unusual sounds.
"You alright?" Austen whispered down.
"Hush." Jasper sent up. "Must've been Gretchen, nobody can stand this heat much."
Precariously, lowering himself down, every touch ached, his shoulders had developed a painful groove. As he descended, he tried to focus on the task at hand. In his mind, he could see his plan coming together. He would take a hard right and scurry up the stairs, open every draw and swipe anything he found and run as soon as he got the keys. He just prayed that he would get there any moment as his grip was reaching breaking point. As it widened for the final time, he dangled his legs down and hopped down onto the now cool ashes.
Peeling away his shoes from his feet, he tiptoed out of the hearth and stood up, quickly scanning the area. Table, chairs, countertops, dog, keys. "Dog?!" He mouthed alarmedly. Immediately squatting down behind a nearby chair. He took stock of everything, his clothes were caked in ash and dust. His hands were now the same colour as old blackened bronze statues. Alongside his laboured breaths, he could hear the dog's heavy panting. It was her Bloodhound. He needed a plan fast. The hound had always been elsewhere, hunting prairie dogs. When Keeyan never turned up again, everyone at school said it was Gretchen's dogs who ripped him apart for straying on to her land. Irena told him, Gretchen's hounds have a special taste for children's blood.
"Jasp, you alright?" He heard his friend's voice sailing down the chimney again.
"Yeah, I see the keys." Jasper did his best to shout-whisper trying not to wake old Gretchen. "But Gretchen's hound is here!"
Above, Austen listened to the chimney like it was telling a prophecy, with a firm grip on its trunk. "Fuck…" He sat back from the funnel, Austen could only speculate how scary it was down there. "Any ideas, on how to shift it?"
"I think there's a kitchen area, could lure it away with some of the food in there."
"Hang on, that'd just bring it to you… I have an idea…" Carefully, Austen disentangled his arms around the bricks and shuffled along the tip of the roof and let himself slide gently to the edge.
Jasper could only hear a faint patter from above. But he had no idea what Austen was going to do. Scurrying around below the eyesight of the windows on the ground floor., the hound began sniffing in its sleep. Jasper could feel his chest tightening, curling his arms around his knees, he just hoped the dog did not come any closer. The last thing he expected to happen was Austen to be banging heavily on the window on the far side of the room. "No, no no no no." He whispered underneath his breath. The hound swung its head toward Austen and began to growl. Jasper's heart dropped. Gretchen might send someone down to check on them. He knew he needed to move, so much so for leaving no trace. The more Austen yelled, the more interested the dog became in him. The bark was powerful. It reverberated through his bones and pierced his ear drums.
Despite trembling all over, he peered above his defenses at the exposed set of keys. This was his chance, it was only a matter of time until the hound took notice of his smell. He took in a deep drink of oxygen before rising, leaving an ashy smear across the furniture and he rushed forward. Putting his arms up, he stretched forward, but it was not enough. He pressed his knee on to the redwood drawers just to boost himself higher. The surface was wobbling from the pressure. As he snatched the ring of keys, the latches of the first draw unbuckled, falling open. The drawers tipping forward. Jasper slipped off, grabbing the falling drawers and shoving them with all his might back toward the wall, leaving inky black hand prints. At his feet, a silver barrel, 30 inches long, fused into a glossy wooden stock complete with a loop that was fit seductively alongside the wood. A repeater lever. Beside it, several golden round casings. In his eyes, they glistened. His thoughts flashed back to the innumerable times they banged on Gretchen's door and she shouted that she'd kill them. All the times her boys would ruffle up Austen at seminary. All the times he stood silent. Amazed, he crouched down and put his hands around the barrel and stock, and arose again.
Jasper mumbled under his breath, "She wasn't kidding..." He felt the weight of the bullets slotted inside, it was loaded.
Then, the barking shook him out of his head. He had to get out of there. He brought his hands together to rifle through the keys, resting the gun awkwardly between his forearms. Grabbing the lock, he tried every key that looked like it would fit. Finally, the padlock popped open, but he could already hear growling coming from behind him. It was becoming louder and louder. He pulled at the lock but it only rattled against the latch. Using precious seconds, he unhooked the padlock and pulled aside the latch. That was when the dog leapt toward him. Jasper swung to face the hound, his left hand now clutching the rifle.
As far as Austen knew, two things had occurred. A shot rang out. And the door was unlocked. By now, Gretchen must be already stirring, Austen thought. Jasper's almost vacant face came in to view as Austen pushed the door open. When he noticed Austen looking at him, he strode out with a confident face, holding the gun by its butt.
He had never seen Austen's mouth open wider, or his face whiter. He could feel his pockets stuffed to the brim with bullets which made his victorious swagger ripple with its heavy baggage. Jasper hoped that would be enough for Austen. He tried to hold the gun with pride, as if he knew what he was doing with it much. But just then his mind scanned Austen's face, wondering if he was impressed, wondering why he cared what Austen thought. Just like that the feeling soured, why did he work with someone who could look THAT dumbfounded.
Jasper stood tall holding that gun. Austen could barely believe his eyes. How could he take a dog's life without flinching? A conflicting feeling settled in his gut. He couldn't decide whether he should be disgusted or impressed, just the thought of what laid behind that door made him feel sick. But the fact Jasper had did all that, the soot from the chimney still caked in to his skin, commanded respect.
"Come on, she's probably heard that." Jasper pressed the rifle into Austen's chest and moved on to the stable. Austen was forced to hook his arms around it. He saw Jasper move off and pick through the various keys. The stable was open quickly and Jasper became soaked in the stark shadows of the stable. Returning astride the prize thoroughbred, it was Black with white speckles and it gleamed in the punishing sunlight.
It was then when he heard the loud kerfuffle from inside the house. Gretchen was coming. As Austen scrambled on to the Deputy's horse with the aid of the fencing. Jasper came alongside and carried a rope from the stable and hooked it through the door handle and tied it as fast as he could. By the time Gretchen had forced her way through, they were merely silhouettes riding down the hill.
"Girls! Girls!" Gretchen blasted her raspy voice at her domestic servants. "We've got rustlers!"
Gretchen turned away from the sun, growling.
Jasper and Austen were euphoric. Their hearts pumped with adrenaline as fast as they could ride. They could not grin wider. The complexities of just moments earlier has vanished for a brief spirit of unabashed glee, knowing they had escaped.
But then Jasper's grin turned extra mischievous. Tugging on his reins, he stopped. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
After Gretchen withdrew into the house but before her servants could make moves against them, the boys returned and unlatched all the gates of Gretchen Bailey's cattle. The hooves made the whole ground quake, visibly shaking Gretchen's plate off their shelves, but she could barely get a footing before the two children were re-enacting all the stories of rustlers they had ever heard.
One of the old decrepit barns around the area were very much known to the boys. As early as seven they had made an adventure out of exploring it and camping out there created some of Austen's best memories. The fact that most of his best memories were basked in the sunlight of his association with Jasper only bothered him when he hung out with other people. Not that many city kids were around this time of year. But it always gnawed at him when he wondered whether Jasper valued him to the same degree. It was a thought that haunted Austen's happiest escapades with him. As they were circling around the cattle, Austen tried to talk to Jasper but really the only response he got was the hasty shouting that he was letting the cattle loose. Austen shored up the opening, losing a few but that's what Jasper had told him to expect. But now they could barely hear each other
Dismounting once they got to the barn they managed to funnel at least some of the cows into the cramped indoor space, but it was still a significant amount of cows they had managed to push in to such a confined space. Inside, Jasper was hitching the thoroughbred as soon as he came to a stop. Using the hitching post as a step ladder down to the ground, he saw Austen quickly approaching.
Austen came up alongside and patted the strong muscles of the horse. "What are you going to name her?"
"It's a stallion." Jasper ran the horse hair leash through his hands until it looped around his hands and drooped down like loose skin.
"Really, a boy? What you naming him?" Austen played with the angle of his ankle and pressed his back against the stable post. I was thinking something like Lightning?"
"Dunno, probably not gonna name him," Jasper seemed vacant, if only temporarily, like he couldn't stand the mundanity of this moment. Austen could feel the adrenaline that exuded from Jasper dissipating from the air. "I could do so much more with him."
Austen's interest was piqued, he knew Jasper was always one step ahead of him, always applying his intelligence to all his avenues. Where Austen took things on face value, he saw Jasper's purpose serving a mission on a grander scale. This view was constantly reinforced by the dreams that Jasper spoke of interminably. It all seemed so inevitable.
"We're going to sell him, we'll git so much dosh." Jasper's face seemed to light up at these prospects "Then there's studdery."
Seeing Austen's facial expression, Jasper pre-empted him. "It's where you let him fuck all the mares in Jeimas and they give you a tidy profit. You know, for doing them a favour." Jasper grinned the widest he had ever seen.
"Oh, right." Austen nodded.
Austen and Jasper began to walk inwards after everything was dealt with. "Do you know where we're going to pawn them off in?"
"Martin's shouldn't be too bad…" Jasper exhaled, audibly pleased with himself. "Man… can you believe we did that. It was crazy."
"Yeah."
The boys came to a stop at the loud grunting and mooing. Both of them dropped their mouths open when they eyes witnessed the proud brown bull rose its head high over the crowd by mounting the rear-end of one of the female cattle.
Jasper seized the opportunity to quip. "Atleast there's no mystery which one's the bull." He grinned. "C'mon we should separate them, I don't know about you, but I don't know anything about babies."
Austen nodded agreeably, wading through, between the two monolithic walls of cows. To him it felt like the easiest way would be to crawl, but when he saw Jasper just following the wall of the barn, it was all so simple and figured himself stupid.
When Austen got there, Jasper was stroking the side of the bull that was now disengaged from its coupling while looking into the far corner of the barn. One of the nearby stable bays had caught his Jasper's eye.
"Hey, you think this'd be fun?"
Austen turned to Jasper while trying to find a leash to lead the bull.
His face scrunched up in confusion looking at what Jasper was holding. "What is it?"
"It's a saddle for cows. Them use it all kinds of rodeo stuff. And I used to love rodeoing all back in city." Jasper snatched the lead and walked it out to the cool evening air, fastening the saddle to the bulky back muscles of the bull.
Pushing against the wall, he heaved himself up in to the saddle and readjusted himself so he now straddled the animal with a firm grip on the reigns. As he pulled at the reign, the bull's head shook in dismay.
"That looks dangerous..." Austen dared to state.
"What are you talking about, it's all fun."
Jasper, at that moment, kicked his shoes into the underbelly of the bull. He kicked and he kicked, until it was whipped up in to a frenzy. Austen took cover behind the barn door as the bull began to rear up, kicking the air behind him. Jasper howled with laughter as the animal threw him back and forth. The dizziness became spellbinding as he could feel himself become weightless with every jerking movement. He was flying in ecstasy.
Until the ground came up to greet him. He couldn't really remember what happened next, just pain, darkness and groaning. The dizziness hadn't left him, but he was no longer moving. He saw with the last few moments of consciousness, the bull bolted, and Austen's concerned face above him, shaking him.
To Austen, it felt like his heart was sinking to his shoes. His friend's eyes were half-open, half-shut, like a half-filled pail of water. He could barely believe this was happening. He almost didn't run over because he couldn't believe this was real. He was on his knees, dirtying his dungarees that were painstakingly cleaned. Austen rolled Jasper on to his back, bending his head down to listen to Jasper's heartbeat. "Jasper!" He screamed.
Tears were beginning to gush out and pour into his mouth.
"Jasper!"
Finally, Austen could feel the blood seeping in to his jeans. A sharp shard of bone that had tore through Jasper's flesh was now exposed. Austen checked Jasper's eyes again, they were pure, milky white.
"Jassspagar." His exclamation had become garbled with the snot and tears flowing in to his mouth.
Jasper's irises retreated to look at his interior mind. Austen arose, scanning the surroundings wildly.
"Somebody help!"
Looking from above, Jasper's body looked like he was resting. Like he was catching some sunlight, while imitating a skeleton hung by its shoulders. His arm was crooked in more places that it should have been, but the image of motionless serenity had begun its burning imprint into his mind.
"I'm not going to give up now." Austen declared, bolting off around the barn. He slammed the barn door shut and rushed to the horses. Pulling the reins out of their tangle, he tugged it urgently to the side of the barn Jasper was on. With all of his might, he hooked his arms around Jasper's midsection and lifted him up onto the hind of the horse, using some of the leash rope to fasten the limp body down. Clambering up on to the seat, he pressed the horse forward. Austen rode hard, determined to make it toward town, Jasper's broken arm dangling freely behind him as the sunlight began to fade under the horizon.
Austen's mother was still working when she heard the approach of hooves. She grabbed the nearest wall and prayed that it would not be a deputy looking for money before opening it gingerly. Her eyes widened to see her beautiful son with tears streaming down him with stains of blood on his lower half.
She lowered herself to his level and embraced him. "God, what happened? Are you okay? Where did you get that horse?" A million and one questions came to her mind, as she stroked the back of his head, but urgency took over once she saw the contorted boy's body arched over the rump of the deputy's horse.
"Jasper…. He's hurt." It was all Austen could spit out without breaking up in to a mess.
His mother arose and rapidly took in Jasper, laying him down on the family bed.
Austen could only watch as his mother did everything that was necessary, from lighting incense to drawing water. But he felt incapable, weakness began to sap him and the boy slid down on to the floor. It had shocked him, shocked him to the bone.
***
Seeing the grimey corpse of the other deputy fixed to the crude crucifix made Silverston pale. His insides churned like butter. He couldn't stop tears falling down his face. Silverston hated that he had been right. He disdained Orrey, but he never thought that he deserved this. "I can't fix this..." Sombrely, made his way back to the station.
Coming against the entryway to the station, he pressed against the door before opening it. "I can't fix this." He murmured.
A civilian with dark skin was smoking next to the main counter. "Finally." He seemed to be impatient to leave.
Gretchen hobbled her way up to the station, "Deputy, deputy!"
When Silverston saw her, he let out a long exasperated release of air. "What is it, Ms. Bailey?"
"I was right!" She marched forward. "Industrial Espionage! All my cattle, gone! What are you going to do about it?" She poked her walking stick toward him. The other man in the room simply watched with widened eyes.
Silverston's mind was absent. All he could hear was the dull roar of complaint. He couldn't imagine telling Orrey's parents - if he didn't, who would? When he had spoke to the Sheriff, the minute he suggested more deputies here in the village, the sheriff had recoiled, citing funding and bureaucracy. It was all garbage. Were they officers of justice? Did they actually care about protecting people? Could he justify saying they protect the people, or had he spent his life on a false sense of security?
"I can't fix it." Silverston gripped the countertop and pressed the tips of his thumbs into the pliable wood that bent under his frustrations. Those were not Natives, not the ones he knew. He had never seen his people punish someone so severely. It could have been some other clan, but something about the whole camp stank of thugs. But thugs with that much conviction? What brought Orrey down so harshly? He had to know. He had to.
He looked around with blurry vision. One thing was certain, he wasn't going to find any closure sitting around here.
Only then did Gretchen's voice surface again, but Silverston had enough of her pestering. He could barely restrain himself.
Silverston exploded, "Your report practically killed Deputy Orrey! We're not going to do your busy work anymore, no one is. You need to learn to deal with some stuff yourself." He paused, his eyes analysing the increasingly curling lip of Gretchen Bailey. He slipped the files on the desk in to the draws while sighing and announced. "Look, I'm sorry, but it's true, I can't help you now.."
Solemnly, Silverston grabbed his badge and tore it off with fabric behind it and all. He took long breaths, contemplating his pulsing heart rate. The star made of tin tumbled down on to the floor and clattered in to the corner. Marching out of the office, his head was filled with so many thoughts. What was the point of being a deputy if there was nothing they couldn't enforce the law? Had all his effort so far been worthless? Could he be simply cut down and displayed like a flag?
As the light was draining from the world, Silverston drew his jacket tighter, as so to close the gap caused by his apostasy. Looking ahead, a tiny glimmer of rays danced joyfully through the windows of an old saloon, bathing the alleyway between the two buildings awash in an unwanted spotlight. A team of two was working out of this area, the first was putting up posters. The other simply caught the light shining in behind him. Shayne Jacobs turned to the oncomer and grinned. "Lookin' for work?"
The bystander was laughing at the whole bizarre spectacle, which awoke Gretchen, who had been strangling the horse whip in her hands. "Did I hear that right?"
"What?" The ice cold monopolist shot back, apparently marking him as irrelevant.
"Orrey, the fucker whose been hassling me all these years? Bastard deserved to die, in my humble opinion.
Mrs Bailey spoke with a side-eye toward "I don't know about that, but I came here for a tough response. I always expected that from Mister Orrey."
"Yeah, actually, the people who killed him must have been powerful.
Hey do you know who killed him?"
"Sounds like them squatters at the end of my land, but they're the least of my problems. Rustler's and thieves pinched my cattle!"
"If they're an enemy of people like Orrey, they're a friend of mine,
"Well, I'll be seeing you." With a grin, the bystander began to walk with purpose toward Anima's camp as the sun began to set
Gretchen huffed and looked at the grim walls of the Deputy's office. And then an idea struck her as she pressed down the curls in the rotting wallpaper. She didn't need a Deputy, they would never have the guts to find those damned thieves. She needed something bigger, something better. Someone she could employ herself.
***
Austen opened the door, grimacing as his eyes were drawn to Jasper laying motionless on the bed. He tried to look away but he didn't have enough willpower. It was like a pit had been carved out of his chest, but it demanded his attention. It demanded his imagination of what it would be like to hit the floor, what it would be like to jump. Whether God would take his soul or he would just be swallowed by the darkness.
Painfully, his mother smiled at him. "Thank you." She wafted over and silently took the pail of water out of his greasy hands. Austen didn't even take his eyes off him.
"Will he be alright?" He could help but feel Jasper jabbing at his vulnerability, as if standing by him in ghost form.
"Well, I've done everything I know how to do, but the wound don't seem to be getting better." She admitted.
"No… no no, no. Is there anything I can do to help?"
Austen came to the edge of the bed, digging in his nails into the hay.
"Awwwh," She cupped the cheeks of her son. "I'm sorry. We just can't afford the kind of medicine he needs."
Austen's eyes opened wide. He had the power. He could save Jasper! His mind raced through the possibilities, now that he had so much means.
"What if I did?"
"What?"
"I've been saving up from my chores and I might have enough."
His mother almost laughed from surprise. "Is Dennis really paying you that well?"
Austen looked directly in her eyes, trying to almost telepathically convince her it was true. He nodded.
"Well, I guess you can try, I'll have a look if it's enough. Go get it." She almost took a moment to smile, but she raised her eyebrow as her boy scampered out the door instead.
Austen ran, ran deep into the night, the sun had just disappeared under the horizon and the desert chill invaded the whole area, washing it in a stark blue. He could feel the cold making his bones shiver and goosebumps cover his entire body. It was only when he made it inside the old barn did his body start to soften again. Still shivering, He quickly crawled through the many cattle crammed into the small area until he found the bull. He didn't like the bull anymore, not since it hurt Jasper, but considering what Jasper was saying how that bull alone could made them rich, he felt it was the only choice. Austen tied the bull to a long rope that he hooked on to the horse that was still at the barn and kicked it into a gallop, hoping the bull would follow along
Breathlessly, he pulled up beside the old market man's house and jumped down. Rapping at his door. There was no answer. He banged on it harder and continuously, until the old man hobbled to the front door and opened it a crack.
"What do you want, do you know what the time is?"
"Please sir, this bull…" Austen looked back at the bull. He was about to explain the situation. But something Jasper said rang in his head. He returned to stare directly into the old man's stern eyes. "This bull is the best bull you will buy in the whole south. Strong breeding, strong muscles, fast too, I just pulled it all the way here from out of town. But it's only being sold for a short time. Are you willing to buy it?"
"You're Julianne's boy, aren't you."
Under his breath, Austen exclaimed 'Shit!' before standing up straighter and pushing down a stray strand of his hair. "I mean yessir."
The old man closed the door. Austen's gaze dropped to the ground
After a series of clunking, the man reappeared in the open threshold.
"You woke me up at this ungodly hour, to sell a bull?"
"Well, this offer won't be available tomorrow."
"Hmm." The man pulled together his coat halves and brushed past the boy to inspect the bull, poking and prodding it.
"This is a fine beast. Who got it for you?"
Austen squinted one eye due to the light that shone around the man's head. "An old friend."
"I'm not sure…" He stroked his gaunt beard.
Maybe Jasper's tactics weren't working, perhaps the man wouldn't buy the bull and Jasper would… would… His face began to scrunch up and redden. "Please, sir, I'm selling it for my mother… so she can...." Tears began to pour down his face.
"Alright, alright, kid. Put it in that stable there and I'll get your money."
Austen straightened up immediately wiping his eyes on his arm. "You will?"
The man disappeared for a few moments and came back. "Two thousand dollars do you?"
"What really?" Austen was awed as the money was placed into his hand.
"Yeah, it's a pretty nice bull, and I won't lie, I feel a little bad for you bud…"
He could barely hold all the money into his arms, that he had to stuff some into his waistband. Austen was so ecstatic that he instantly ran around in a circle with a big stupid grin on his face. "Thank you, mister!" Austen jumped on to his horse and rode back to his house, with his heart soaring.
Elated from his exploits, Austen got home fast. He was about to burst in to the door when he noticed the gun poking out from the saddle's knapsack along with all it's ammunition. Quickly, looked inside of the house. His mother laid against the bed with her palm supporting her sleeping head. He stuffed the gun under his clothes and tiptoed inwards. Finally, he slipped it into Jasper's suitcase. Scrounging around his person, he accumulated the two thousand dollars in to both of his hand and he nudged his mother awake.
"Uh?"
"Ma."
"Mhmmhumuh?"
"It's here, it's the money." Austen flashed it before her, her eyes opened widely.
"The hell? Where did you get this kind of money. Don't tell me it was theft. No, tell me!" She got up, her apron now made a off-white road up to her towering stature over the child. "Was it theft? Do I need to go and give this back?"
"It was honest work, swear!" Austen peddled back with his hands across the floor, his forehead poured with sweat.
"What is it, a loan?"
"No, Me and Jasper, we've been doing odd jobs, Dennis is generous." He couldn't bear the anger in his mother's eyes. He held up his dirty hand to the sky and planted the other on his chest. "On my life!"
"Right, and if I get talking to Dennis tomorrow mornin', he's not going to give a story of you stealing?"
"I tell you, it was legit. Listen, mum, now we've got the money, you can buy that medicine he needs. Isn't it worth saving his life?" Austen's throat caught as he tried to express himself. His eyes felt dammed up with the pressure of the tears behind them.
She sighed. "Fine, I'll go out tommorrow, get the medicine, contact Dennis. But if you're telling fibs, you're going to be put to work with me here. I let you off with too much already and my hands are down to the bone."
"Okay…" It worked, but Austen still felt terrible.
Seeing her son on the verge of tears, she came over and crouched down in front of him. "You know, the reason why I am doing this?"
The boy looked away. Julianne swept the boy's long curly hair away from his face and then brought her hand down to stroke his cheek.. "If we get involved with other people's money, they'll want it back." She brought him closer. "I'm working as hard as I can, and if everything goes well, we should be able to eat soon. Hmm? You understand…" He was still abstaining from looking her in the eye, her gaze drifted to the ground. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek and then stood up and began to prepare for bed.
***
The next day was a market day for the old man. He awoke as he did customarily in the early morning to ready the livestock for show. He may of paid a little higher than usual for the bull, but he couldn't stand it when a kid cried. He hadn't lied either, the bull looked like prime stock, somewhat resembling another bull he had handled recently, but he couldn't imagine the bull Gretchen fought tooth and nail for having fell in to the hands of just a kid in rags. She was way too rapacious.
The old man was scratching his head when a fierce bang rattled the door. While approaching, he could hear the bass tones of chitter-chatter happening beyond the door.
"Quick one… we get the info, get it back, the old lady's happy and Anima will reject the other gang once and for all. Should be simple."
The old man opened the door. "What's it?" His eyes fell upon a large bulky silhouette alongside a woman with a gun strapped to her waist.
"Hi there, we're canvassing the area for the church of…"
The large and imposing figure jabbed his elbow into the side of her.
"Ow. Hey! You never let me make the introduction funny!"
"We've got work to do." He rested his head on the oversized baseball bat that sat on his shoulder.
"I'm sorry, who are you?" The old man rubbed his eye.
"I'm Gwendolen and this is The Brute," She gestured to them both as if they had just trotted out on stage.
"The Brute…?" The old man sounded unamused.
"I know, it sounds dramatic, but he's really sweet if you get to know him." Seeing that her platitudes did nothing for the old guy, she got on to the point. "We're here about a herd that got rustled. Our patron, Mrs Margareta Bailey, is pleading for information. She can't visit everyone herself, so we're helping out."
"Right."
"So since you're the marketeer around here. Has anyone… tried to sell you anything?" She edged her left side closer to him, as if in exchange of private information.
"I don't know what you're insinuating. I'm just a businessman."
"Yes, but even businessmen can get misled by crooks."
"Usually are the crooks." The Brute huffed.
"Look, I don't know anything."
The old man tried to close the door but Gwendolen jammed her foot between the threshold and the door.
Despite his full pressure to close the door, The Brute managed to push the door open, now towering over the old man. "I don't believe you." He thundered.
Practically forcing him to fumble on to the floor, the old man yielded. "Listen, hear me out, maybe over a cup of tea? I'll tell you anything you want."
Gwendolen smiled and looked up at The Brute. "I didn't even need to draw my gun."
"I want the info, now." The Brute put on an ugly smile. "And it betta be accurate or you're gonna feel my whole wrath."
The man's left side of his face was blue and dented in several places before he yielded. "It was a poor kid selling it for his mother. Julianne McConnelly, from the Gretchen's Farms. Take it, take the bull I don't care anymore"
Out of the early morning darkness, many flames converged on the shanty town, highlighted by the absence of light on the west side of sky, while the sun pinkened the opposite. From hut to hut, they harassed each worker untill gaining the information of where Julianne McConnelly slept.
Peering out of the window out in to the grave morning, Austen could only percieve the bouquets of flames they rose as they approached. That night, he had found the attic floor too uncomfortable to get any worthwhile sleep. The corners of Jasper's suitcase dug in to him no matter in what position he laid. Instead, his eyes were caught by the glorious field of stars outside his porthole-window. As the morning came and the stars had drifted along the sky, the new flickering embers closer to the ground caught his eye. He could feel his heart sink, he was trembling. Immediately, he scrambled down the stairs from the attic and began to shake his mother.
"Huh?"
"Ma, they're coming!"
"What?"
"The fire monsters!"
"There's no such thing as monsters."
As she uttered those words, three loud bangs reverberated through the space, Mrs McConnelly scrambled to her feet. Pressing down her apron and pushing a curl behind her ear, she transfixed a passivising smile on to her face and clipped up her hair. While she was taking a deep breath, the three knocks thundered again. Julianne's hands began to shake. Everything seemed so sharply focused, yet nauseatingly distant. She felt off-balance, but ignoring the banging was just not an option. She stepped forward and grasped the door knob. Sheepishly, she pulled it open.
The Brute appeared, his frame expanding to fill up almost the entire door way, with his club slung over his shoulder, "Now, now, now… Will you do me the favour of telling me what you're named?"
Mrs McConnelly whitened and gave him a wide berth. She slipped her hands behind her back to pick up the fire poker from beside the bed. "Austen, go upstairs."
Austen backed up until his back was pressing against the wall. He gripped tightly on to the nearest item, a stack of empty pails on a tall frame of shelves.
"Now, now that isn't very civil is it?" The giant groaned.
Julianne thrust it forward, putting the iron between the monster and Jasper. "I don't have any time for civility. What do you want?"
From behind the oaf, a woman slid out of his silhouette and took out her firearm from her holster "Julianne McConnelly?"
"How do you know my name?" Her voice quivered.
"We just want to talk." Gwendolen's voice didn't even sound sincere.
Julianne couldn't believe her, not even for a minute. "We could talk without guns."
Gwendolen simply shook her head.
The brute bellowed, "Where's the cattle, princess?"
"What?"
"The cattle." Gwendolen repeated.
"What cattle?"
"You know if you play this game, you're going to get shot." Gwendolen began to spin around the firearm around her finger placed inside the trigger guard.
"I thinks she thinks this'll end in violence." The Brute suggested.
Julianne's eyes darted between the two of them. "I'll tell you anything you want, but you better not hurt anyone!"
"The cattle you stole from our patron, Mrs. Bailey."
"Why would I steal from Mrs. Bailey? She employs me, I'd be out of the job."
"We don't care how you did it. Just cough up." Gwendolen now cupped her gun with both hands, steadying her aim.
"No!" Austen yelled as he stepped forward. He couldn't let them hurt Mum.
"What's this one?" The Brute shot his glance to the child across the room from him.
"Talk to me, Austen is innocent in this."
Hearing that from his mother, Austen's chest tightened up. This was all his fault. If he hadn't been there, Jasper would've never stolen the livestock. If he had stopped Jasper, he wouldn't have been hurt. If this all just didn't happen, Austen wouldn't have lead these monsters to his door. If he had just been able to guard himself from Jasper's attractive ideas, he would have never committed the crimes he did.
The boy started to bawl. "I'm sorry, mum."
"This isn't your fault." Julianne couldn't risk peeling her eyes off from the intruders to comfort him.
Gwendolen barked orders with the barrel of her gun, making Julianne move against the left side wall.
"I told you, whatever cattle you got missing, its nothing to do with us."
"Liar." Gwendolen spoke as if the word tasted as sweet as honey.
"I'm sorry, mum." It was at that moment it realisation clicked in her head at what her son was trying to say. She wished she could say it out loud that she wished he hadn't, but still loved him. Unfortunately, it was far too dangerous right now.
She darted her vision over to Austen, so much so that all Gwendolen could see was the red bloodshot tendrils. "Okay…" She paused. "Don't worry, you don't need to talk to these people."
With his club still heavy in his iron grip, The Brute crossed his arms and then moved his lurid leer toward the boy. "Well, aren't you the pretty one?"
"No! Don't you fucking-"
Austen had never heard his mother swear before. She was already charging, swinging her bar of iron in an attempt to stop the oversized creature, but Gwendolen took that moment to rush forward and lunge her whole body at Julianne. Austen was horrified as his mother and the bandit clattered to the ground. But soon an even bigger threat consumed his entire vision, his wide meaty arms encircling the boy.
Gwendolen was the first to sit up, pressing her whole weight to keep Julianne down.
"No, you don't! You fucking monster." Julianne was wriggling underneath Gwendolen's legs, trying to escape.
In response, Gwendolen forced the nozzle of her gun into the side of Julianne's head and pinned her face to the dirt floor.
Julianne could feel the hot iron ring make grooves in her skin. But The Brute was still encroaching on her son, she had to do something. Opening her mouth, she made an ear piercing scream.
The Brute held up his left hand to his ear for a moment. "Take her outside and teach her a lesson. She's ruining my appetite."
At that moment, Gwendolen spun the gun around and used the butt of the pistol to bash into her temples, leaving a nasty bruise. "There you go." Gwendolen chirped like a cashier and began to tie the unconscious woman together with rope.
Austen's heart quivered as he looked up at The Brute. His mother had looked terrified, he'd never seen her that scared or adamant. He glanced over to the boy feverish on the bed. Wasn't Jasper always saying adults were stupid and pathetic? Why did Jasper always get to be the badass? Why did he get the short end of the stick? He could save Jasper, and Jasper would like him forever and they'd carry on just like the good old days. Shouldn't he have a moment to shine? WIth all these thoughts racing in his head, Austen gulped down a pocket of fear. "I'm not scared of you!" Austen could hardly believe his own words.
"You will be." The Brute reached down with his large hands and hooked under Austen's armpits and began to lift him from the ground. Austen wriggled, making himself as hard to carry as possible. Thanks to these efforts, he slipped down onto the ground, landing on his behind.
Gwendolen grinned and slung the unconscious woman over her shoulder and slowly sauntered out of the front door. "Have fun!"
The Brute made a chortling roar, exclaiming, "Oh, I love it when they fight." As he leaned forward and became the entire sky, Austen scrambled backwards against the wall. Gripping the wall and corner pole of the shelves for stability, he kicked the brute with all his might.
For the man, it simply tickled. Unable to hold back an ugly grin, The Brute crawled forward, seizing Austen's legs as they peddled towards him. With meaty fingers, The Brute tore the jeans from Austen's body. Austen's heart pumped as fast as a train. Austen's skin began to crawl with fear. He reached wildly behind himself for any purchase that would promise safety. But the monster's vice-like grip clamped around his waist did not yield. It was hurting his insides.
"No! No! No!" He screamed in terror.
But as Austen scrambled for some kind of help, he hit upon something that he could feel something that could give. An iron column. Austen glanced upwards towards his mother's metallic shelving unit. It was a chance at freedom. With all his might, he gripped as hard as he could high up on the pole and pulled. Simultaneously with The Brute dragging Austen under, the shelves tipped forward, gaining the momentum to come crashing down.
THUD.
The Brute crumpled first, releasing the vice like grip and Austen slipped away as fast as he could, his foot barely squishing through. Austen scrambled up the ladder to the attic where he and Jasper used to play. His pulse still pounded through his ears. He could feel his chest rise and fall like a piston. He took a quick glance through the small round window at the people spread out around the desert slums. He had to leave, there would be no choice.
The Brute groaned from all the weight above him. He rolled his eyes around to get his bearings but still couldn't really make out anything. He tried to push his body in to an upright position, but it simply failed. It was not until he craned his neck upwards did he see the boy. Austen had descended again, but now stood above his attacker. With his bare foot pressing down on to the fallen shelves, Austen had donned a brief triumphant smirk.
"Don't even fucking move." The threat, surprisingly, came from the boy, glaring at The Brute's movement. It was only at this moment did the Brute figure out what the long silver and bronze barrel was clutched delicately in Austen's hand.
Austen pushed the rifle tip against the sweaty bald head of The Brute. "My mum! You took her! She was going to make Jasper well again. And you fucking took her!" The boy screamed at the top of his lungs, he was now on the verge of tears. "I guess you've killed him now too." The thought made him shudder, his eyes drifted toward Jasper. Jasper was dying, and his mother was gone. All because of this Brute. His anger was only amplified with each new imagination of the future. "You're going to die, like all the other thugs in this world. For the ones who bully Jasper, for the ones who bully me! For everyone whose ever been hurt. Except I'm not going to wait around!" Inside Austen, it was like a dam had broken. All the resentment he'd ever felt came gushing forth, and he wouldn't bear it any longer.
"Listen, kid, you're not going to-"
Austen's finger pressured the curved trigger backwards and a shatteringly loud bang poured out in all directions. It reverberated through the walls and shook the ground. A puff of smoke plumed out of the end, for a brief moment obscuring the bloody mess that was The Brute's cranium. The recoil made the firearm slip through Austen's fingers and drop on to the floor. With the sudden sight of the blood and mess, He could barely hold it in, Austen's stomach heaved out bile into a pool next to the newly made corpse.
The loud noise made the weak Jasper open his eyes and writhe around, left and right, trying to find the cause of the noise. Austen assembled himself and quickly clambered over the fallen shelves. He came up close to Jasper and knelt by the bed.
"What…?" Jasper sounded almost alive again.
"Come on, we have to get going."
"Hmmmh." Jasper groaned, his skin was almost too hot to touch. Austen tugged on his arm anyway, seeing Jasper would slip and bash his head, he paused and got closer, clutching his arms around Jasper's chest and managing to drag him on to the floor. Austen could see this was not going fast, he had to pause to catch his breath. All this exertion made the pit in his stomach feel deeper. Sitting on the floor, he glanced toward the increasingly red and brown window. The fires... Had they began torch the entire village? Austen thoughts and increasing speculation fueled his urgency. Austen rushed to the nearest coil of rope he could find and tied it around Austen's body, like he was hitching a horse. With several desperate efforts of pulling on the rope, he managed to drag Jasper out the side door and out into the desert, where the encroaching sun was rapidly warming the sands. Austen dared glimpse backwards. It only confirmed his fears. The entire village had been set ablaze, every shanty hut had a thug beside it. He saw a man beating the crap out of someone on the ground, who was sobbing and shouting that they didn't know anything.
Austen wanted to interrupt, tell them to stop, to tell them that no one knew where it was except him and Jasper.
But that honesty would probably only bring them pain. Austen concluded
He could see no sign of the deputy's horse anywhere, the hitching post had loosened out of the ground it had been staked in to. But he did find some of the oak boards his mother had been working with, which Austen, with a few tries tied his rope on to and fastened Jasper's body on to.
What followed was a long slow slog in to the desert toward the barn where Jasper's prize horse was.
The sun intensified over the course of the day, Austen's makeshift sled made grooves in the sand as they cut through it.
Looking up at the midday sun, Austen fell to his knees with heavy panting. He was on the verge of gasping for breath. He couldn't stop the sweat pouring down his forehead and crystallizing his vision into bizarre distorted segments. The only thing that brought him out of his own personal bubble, was Jasper's weak groan. Austen clambered on all fours toward the sound, the sand shifting underneath him.
"Yes?"
"W…" Jasper seemed to be putting in extra effort. "W..wwater…"
"I don't have any drink, but we're going to get to the barn soon, alright?"
"Wa..water…"
Austen shook his head, he couldn't stop now, not while Jasper was depending on him. Austen stood up again and pulled forward against all the wills of his body to stop.
Shortly, the silhouette of the barn came into view. The place where Jasper had first hurt himself. Austen began to let his self-doubts bubble up again, perhaps had he been firmer, had he stopped him, Jasper wouldn't be hurt now. With his last mental energy, he pushed the thought out of his mind and came into the shadow of the structure. He ripped open the pack that they had left there in case they wanted to withdraw from the world. Austen violently uncorked the stolen wine bottle and poured it down his own throat. The liquid was like pure honey to his parched palate.
Austen smiled broadly. They had made it.
Austen turned on his knees and shook Jasper's shoulder and offered the wine bottle to his friend. Jasper didn't take to it. In fact, even when Austen poured it into Jasper's mouth. The boy didn't even cough when it dribbled out of the corners of his mouth. Austen couldn't hear any sound but the shuffling of hooves inside the large barn behind him. Jasper's body was now a breathless edifice. Empty of all life.
Austen couldn't remember crying more in his entire life. He had bayed into the empty sky, as if the massive expulsion of sound and grief would reanimate him through pure willpower. Austen never really cried like that again either. Something left him that day in the flow of tears that he would be surprised if he found again.
He felt more lifeless than the corpse in front of him. Helplessness overwhelmed him, he simply cried out in to the void for his mother. Hearing nothing back, shook him to his core. For the first time in his life, he was completely alone. What would have been happy playing turned in to sombre pacing. Walking the circuit of the barn, kicking bits of stray bricks and charcoal that had fell out of the store. His mind raced with ways to stop the rising suffocating tide inside of him. He had began to reenact the last few days, crawling underneath the cattle, up until the current cattle's trough, from which he dunked his head in to. Running away around the same four walls of the barn, climbing as high as he could, sliding down would have been scary if he had been thinking about it, but he wasn't. He kept on checking his gun, cleaning out the barrel every twenty minutes, checking how empty the bullet loader was. Pulling the lever out, pressing it to its greeted extent, pumping it toward the stock in quick succession. He aimed it at bricks he had stood up on end, pretending, with imitation sounds from his mouth that he had blown the brick to smithereens.
He imagined that moment of glee he had, the moment he ended the life of that ugly monster. His last moment of joy, a vindication of all the oppression he had felt his entire memorable life. Those bullies needed to pay, he concluded as he loaded a new bullet in to the rifle from the ammunition Jasper had stolen. First he tried that triumphant pose again, one handed, how he killed The Brute. It still recoiled out of his hand, sending a bullet out in to the sky. One bullet wasted. Then he held it with both hands. This shot hit the nearby vicinity but was nowhere near on target. One thing was clear to Austen, he had to get better at using that rifle.
He pulled aside the door in to the barn and looked over the cattlepen, contemplating how much the herd would go for.
***
"Get it done."
"Sure thing." Silverston nodded his head before splitting off.
The Hunter, Jacobs continued his steady march through the corridor followed by two other gunmen. Their posse was slowly growing but Waltham's men had yet to turn up at their door. Getting a connection with his older contacts was no mean feat when he had pissed off most of them. But considering what was at stake, a religious theocracy and thousands of potential lost bounties. He hoped to appeal to the better nature of the people he once knew, knowing that they'd always fight hard to keep authority low in the area. A few had came on board, but a lot hadn't, it meant he would have to rely more and more on fresh blood. "How are we doing on posters, Roach?"
"Fine, err.. Yes, no skirimishes out there yet." Roach spoke in tones of varying tenacity, with a rattish propensity to teeter between incoherent mumbling and lucid outbursts. All while inexplicably fiddling with his fingers.
The Hunter shot him a side eye glance as they continued forward. Roach always seemed odd but he had never let him down yet. Quirks seemed to come second to performance, despite how totalising his quirks seemed to be.
"That sounds like a but."
"Well… mmnmnm… yes, a but. But I came across this fellow." Roach always looked up at the Hunter from his permanently hunched posture.
"Dead or friendly?"
"Oh, friendly, yes, yes."
"So?"
"Well, yes, he offered to help us kill...m.nmm… the demons, and even to offer the service of his guards."
"His guards? You turned down multiple freshies? Do you know how difficult it is out there?" The hunter, Jacobs held out his hands in front of him to gesture to 'out there'
"Oh… no.. no.. nothing like that. Graaghggrrr." Roach got distracted by his own hands, tugging at one finger with his teeth so as too inexplicably untangle his hands.
"Roach!"
"Mmmhmh...rr! They asked for training, they want to fight, themself."
"So…? If they're that committed, it should be easy." Shayne tried to keep down his excitement at the potential of lowering the amount of guns they had to hire. The best soldiers fought for free, he grinned.
"Mymmhm… yes, and flush with cash."
"What's the problem then?" The Hunter groaned.
"Well… mmmnmn…. They're here, then." The motion of the people in the discussion rolled to a halt as Roach clambered down the step to reach the doorknob.
The wall was unseamed by the opening door revealing the curly-haired child adorned in a velvet coat, split diagonally by a rifle strap. To either side a henchmen. One bald and thuggish, the other thin and nimble with her rifle brandishing toward open desert, seemingly suspicious of any movement on the horizon.
Austen shifted his gaze upwards and locked eyes with Jacobs. "Hello, sir, I'd like to work with you."
Shayne took an intake of breath and glanced between everyone present before finally settling on the shadow of the three people at the door.