Kait got sick again which delayed my workout schedule which makes me forget what day it is. That is my excuse for the late Bannock post.

They made quite the parade as the followed the voices. Felicity gripped the pistol in her hand, the deputy had his nose buried in his sleeve trying to staunch its flow, Laure juggled the heavy metal chains and Schroeder was left trying to put as much distance between his suit and the man’s fluids.

As they went, the speaking grew louder and louder. They rounded the general store to see a raised wood platform. A noose dangled ominously in the centre, the long bar capable of stringing nearly seven bodies at a time. It spoke to the town’s need to prosecute thieves and hinted at just how profitable their mining was.

Sheriff Plummer took the centre, addressing the gathered crowd. Behind him stood the accused. Felicity expected him to be screaming his innocence profusely but he had some distant look in his eyes as if he’d long accepted his fate. Ranger Hayes stood steely by his side, holding the rope bounding the outlaw’s hands and slowly twisting it in his gloves.

But the most dissatisfied individual on the stage was Nicolai himself. His fine suit of extravagant silk was beginning to darken along his pits and Felicity guessed it wasn’t just due to the heat. The magnate seemed to regard all the men on the stage with equal suspicion and disgust. Felicity slipped Schroeder’s pistol into the waist of her pants and took the manacles from Schroeder’s hand. She motioned for the sharpshooter to take a position before handing the restraints to Laure.

And that is when they heard the sheriff speak.

“My fine folk of Bannock, too long have we toiled beneath the fear and savagery of bandits and murderers. For too long have our children and businesses been ravaged by evils of lesser men. The crimes of this Mr. Hopkins are too numerous to mention. They extend far beyond a simple bridge or missing crate. They’re the monthly losses of good ole Malcolm trying to keep enough together to provide us with our simple basins and hoes. They’re the nights little Annie has to go hungry because Mr. Truestone can’t afford a simple loaf of bread with his wages snatched from impenetrable safes!

“But my people of Bannock, I – Sheriff Henry Plummer – have strove to end this suffering. I have cast far and wide in search of these outlaws. Endless hours and nights we’ve spent in our hunt. We would not let the fathomless expanses hide this villain. No dark hole was dark enough to keep him from justice. It was my duty, nay, my pleasure to serve you fine folk who toil daily to keep this the finest town on the frontier!

“Throughout the entire trial, this despicable Mr. Hopkins refused to speak a word against the heinous charges laid against him. He refused to acknowledge the terrible price he’d extracted from your hard labour. He didn’t defend his actions after the news of the destruction of the Glorious Belt Bridge. He would make a mockery of our systems and our justice. For that, only the heaviest punishment can be afforded. Only the graces of the Lord and his divines can judge the true weight of his sin. All we can do is hasten him to those white walls and golden gates. Let those of nobler spirit than ours see fit if he holds a place in the Kingdom or if he’s to be turned out to the Wilds amongst the untamed that he so embraces.

“If there be any man who finds our process unjust, then let him speak. Else bring the outlaw forward so that he may face divine retribution for the suffering he has wrought!”

Sheriff Plummer turned, motioning at the man and the noose. As Ranger Hayes forced him forward, the outlaw’s boots echoed against the wood boards. But another sound broke over the solemn silence. A great applause thundered through the proceeding, causing heads to turn and voices to whisper. Felicity stepped forward, the crowd parting to let her applause and clanking prisoner through.

At first the sheriff turned, a look of confused amusement on his face. But when he saw his deputy barely dressed with hands shackled and split shirt stained from his bloody nose down turned in embarrassment, the fat man’s smile waned.

“Remarkable speech, sheriff. I reckon, perhaps, you misjudge your place as humble lawman. You be better suited for the high halls of coastal magistracy with their double talk and betraying smiles.”

“What’s the meaning of this!” he huffed, his whiskers bristling. “You best have a good explanation for this depravity towards my fellow!”

Felicity ignored him, fetching the letters from her pocket and holding them proudly as she turned to address the crowd.

“I ask you, fine folk of Bannock, with your marauding bandit captured where is your stolen goods? Where are these riches that would drag your distant and uncaring magnate to your door?”

Nicolai seemed to stir at the barb but curiosity simmered his anger. However, as she approached the stage, two of Plummer’s men moved to intercept. She paused as they drew their weapons but when they made to take the letters, she pulled away.

“Let her pass.”

Nicolai’s voice broke the momentary tension. The goons turned to the sheriff who cast a quick glance at the Ranger. Felicity’s fingers unconsciously drifted towards the borrowed pistol.

At last, the sheriff nodded and Felicity began to climb the platform. The wood clattered beneath her boots as she took the steps two at a time. Sheriff Plummer looked absolutely fuming but raised not a word as she drew defiantly before him.

“Now what this about?” Nicolai demanded. Felicity held up the letters but didn’t turn from the sheriff.

“I hazard that, despite the cajoling of our good sheriff, he was unable to procure the location of your missing ore. And should Dirty Hopkins have elected to speak, I reckon he’d profess ignorance for any robbery of your line. But why would he when clearly the court arraigned against him ain’t no greater than a pony show with little interest in either truth or justice?”

A murmur rose from the gathered townsfolk. The sheriff eyed them warily before turning upon Felicity.

“Are you saying this man is no outlaw? You who brought him back to us, wounded by your own rough handling?”

“I make no claim towards his character,” Felicity spat. “He is both craven and merciless. If those be your charges then you can hand me the rope and I will string him myself for all those that have perished by his hand. But if my people are to die, it won’t be in vain.”

“This is a farce,” the sheriff said. “Remove her!”

Felicity turned to Nicolai but he didn’t immediately object as the sheriff’s boys came to her side. The two men that had intercepted her earlier flanked Laure, taking the deputy’s chains from her hands. Felicity pulled her coat free, turning to the Ranger as they snatched for the papers.

“The only farce is putting a scheming ne’er-do-well in charge of doling out justice! Your deputy has already confessed your sins, sheriff. Your plot’s been revealed.”

The sheriff turned to his manacled man, and his heavy gaze caused the sniffling deputy to cower further. But a shift was certainly affecting the crowd. No doubt the deputy had worn his fearsome mask in his dealings with them. This half undressed, soiled and simpering fool was a shade of the scarred lawman.

“I know not what tortures you’ve enacted upon him nor even what purpose you insinuate of my nature.”

“Murder and theft as well as an untamed scheme to bring ruin to the very folk you preach and preen before. In my hands I have correspondences with your buyer for the ores you stole and seek to pin on this man! These fetched from your desk beneath the direction of that blubbering caitiff.”

“I-I’m sorry, boss!” the deputy pleaded. “She… she is an untamed. Near slit my throat…!”

Laure kicked him unceremoniously to the ground, strangling his voice in a great cloud of dirt. He snivelled at the people’s feet as her guards pulled her roughly away. The sheriff rounded on Felicity.

“Salacious lies! Who are you to challenge my authority? You’re just some honour less bounty hunter preying on the weak and needy for your coin. Hand me those papers!”

“I think I look first,” Nicolai finally said.

“Sir, we should not entertain these deluded claims. No doubt she is in league with Hopkins himself and this is some scam to discredit our efforts and play you the fool!”

The sheriff snatched at the papers but Felicity dodged his hands. However, the sheriff’s men were many on the platform and were fast upon her: pinning her arms behind her back and claiming the documents for their leader.

“See here!” Nicolai cried.

But as he stepped forward, hands fell to weapons. The magnate’s look was as hard and steely as his office’s facade. But in that moment, it was clear he was outnumbered. His hired lawmen turned not to him but the sheriff. And their posturing was clear.

“Come now, sir Nicolai. Your gracious patronage has brought peace and order to this town. Let us do our duty and deal with these outlaws.”

“Sheriff Plummer…!”

But Nicolai held his reply as the sheriff’s men drew their guns.

“This will all be over soon,” Plummer cried. “Order will be restored to Bannock. Even if we must string up Hopkin’s conspirators as well!”

“Truly?” Felicty laughed. “And do you expect these people to forget that a Ranger has gone missing? Or you reckoned his murder would be forgotten once you had some necks to twist in your ropes?”

The sheriff spat as his men handed him the letters.

“You should have made your way from town once you had your pay,” the sheriff sneered, stepping close. His great stomach pressed against Felicity as he leaned in so his round face was inches from hers. “But perhaps you have some feelings for this degenerate. Seems you leave me little recourse than to string you up with him for your impetuousness.”

“Or maybe we’ll look at those documents before we make any hasty decisions.”

A click of the hammer caused the sheriff to straighten. Ranger Hayes had his rifle raised and leveraged at the fat man’s chest.

“You still have failed to explain my brother’s disappearance.”

The sheriff shrugged.

“How am I suppose to know where your kind go, Ranger? They prowl the endless plains. He could have run afoul of hostile savages. Or maybe he stumbled upon this villainous pair and they got the better of him. Perhaps they tossed his body unceremoniously into them canyons.”

“Then it won’t be an issue if we take a look at the little lady’s evidence,” Ranger Hayes replied, his gun unmoving.

The sheriff gave only the briefest of glances at the papers in his hand to confirm their identity. Then he shook his head and gave a hearty laugh.

“Likely forgeries, anyway. Why would I keep such incriminating documents if I were so devious?”

“Perhaps to blackmail your correspondent if he reneged on his end? Or maybe you ain’t so untamedly bright. But I reckon I’d rather peruse them then have a word with your deputy myself before we continue.”

The sheriff’s smile melted away as his thick lips churned his predicament. He looked at the deputy still lying face down in the dirt.

“You fool,” he sneered. “You lowly, heat stricken fool. Don’t think I won’t deal with you later for this.”

The sheriff reached quickly for his coat pocket but a sudden thunder clap broke the air. All attending flinched at the sound. Felicity regarded the Ranger’s rifle but it still laid cocked in his hands.

The wood at the sheriff’s feet was cracked from where the bullet struck. Still standing with hand in his coat and letters shaking slightly in his fingers, the fat man turned. A mass shifted upon the roof of the General Store as Schroeder made a show of adjusting his aim.

Felicity quickly disentangled herself from her captors’ hands, rushing the sheriff before he could wage his chances against the Ranger and the sharpshooter. She snatched into his pockets and fetched the gun from its holster. With him disarmed, Ranger Hayes approached and grabbed the letters from the sheriff’s hand. He then turned his rifle towards the sheriff’s lawmen ordering them to drop their weapons. Ever so slowly, they obliged, the guns clattering against the floor.

As the Ranger turned to the documents, Nicolai stepped boldly forward.

“What do they read?”

“It’s as the lady inferred,” Ranger Hayes said. “Appears the sheriff was stealing supplies all across town and selling them off for his own. Even makes mention of hiring an outlaw to blame the whole business upon.”

The magnate ripped them from the Ranger’s hands, looking them over as well. His face grew even redder as he read, his fingers shaking with rage and embarrassment.

“To think I listen to you all morning striding smug before me,” Nicolai growled. “And the destruction of the bridge, you blithely destroyed years of work and preparation! I want these men punished, Ranger! Punished! This… this is unacceptable!”

The governor spat on the sheriff’s fine suit.

“As if you’re any better,” Sheriff Plummer sneered. “You growing fat and wealthy with nary a consideration for the folk that do all the digging for you. You rail lords ain’t nothing but thieves in better dress. You twist the law to your bidding, ruling worse than the nobles back across the waters! You thought you the only one that could manipulate these people. You’re just as stupid as the rest of them.”

“Hang them! And squeeze this fat lout into the cage!” Nicolai’s brow twitched as he stood but inches from the sheriff, quivering with fury. “Your soul goes nowhere. Let vultures pick you clean like you picked me.”

The magnate turned, heading for the stairs. Ranger Hayes regarded the other lawmen, beginning to follow the magnate’s words. In that brief respite, the sheriff grew desperate. Laure called out, slipping her arms free and knocking over one of her guards with a swift strike of her wrench to his gut. Her hands fell upon the gun of the other and the weapon seemed to fall apart in her fast fingers. But the sheriff struck lightning quick, bringing his fist heavily upon Felicity’s hand. The sheriff’s pistol fell from her fingers and in that moment the sheriff snatched at the weapon tucked into her hip. He grabbed her roughly, angling her body between him and the sharpshooter as he raised the gun to her head.

“Die, whore!”

He pulled the trigger.

And he pulled it again.

And he pulled it a third time.

He blinked at this seemingly divine providence right before Felicity drove her elbow hard into his gut. Pain wretched him forward and she slammed her fist into his face, crunching his nose beneath her knuckles. A spatter of blood shot out as she grabbed the collar of his vest, pulling his retreating head into her forehead. The already softened cartilage crunched again as he howled in pain before she drove her leg hard into his groin, keeling him onto his knees.

She scooped up the guns on the ground and without a word, let loose a single shot right into his fat rump.

He squealed like a pig, collapsing on the ground and rolling in pain. His hands knew not where to go between the bloody mess of his face, his throbbing groin or the shot in his ass.

The Ranger regarded her.

“That really necessary?”

“Perhaps not,” Felicity shrugged. “But it’s satisfying. Ain’t nothing that’ll finish him and it’s the least Pacal deserves. Make sure justice is seen, lawman.”

She emptied the sheriff’s pistol over the edge of the stage before tossing it in the pile at the Ranger’s feet. Before anyone could say otherwise, she moved to the steps, walking quickly from the platform and through the crowd. Schroeder was already clamouring down from the store when Laure and Felicity reached his side.

“Well, that was thrilling!” Laure said.

Felicity paused, turning to Schroeder.

“Appreciated.”

She held out the pistol raised against her moments ago. Schroeder reached for it with a smile.

“So, what was that about me needing proper care? You could say I saved your life right there.”

She pulled it back, twirling the gun into her hand and raised it to his head before clicking the trigger.

“There, now it’s square,” she tossed the gun into his chest. “Don’t let it happen again else you might be able to do more than shoot up some wood.”

He fumbled his catch and as he picked it up, she gave one last glance back at the stage. With the sheriff incapacitated the rest of the lawmen easily bowed before the Ranger. Many of the townsfolk assisted with the arrests, almost a little too eager to bring the gang that once held order to heel.

Then Schroeder looked back at Felicity, calling out as they made their way towards the train, “Wait, that doesn’t makes us even at all!”

It’s Friday so you know what that means. Actually, it doesn’t mean anything but I still have this short story kicking around incomplete on the site. So have some more Bannock!

“I’m confused. Don’t we hate, Hopkins.”

“I ain’t seeing the relevance.” Felicity stood on a crate, watching the deputy sitting in the office. He was an unsavoury sort with dark, shifting eyes and a large scar running down his cheek indicating he was no stranger to confrontations. But there was an edginess to his character highlighted by the dark leather vest that he wore. He busied himself with a small collection of woodblock prints of questionable content. They appeared most salacious: a variety of paintings of men and women in various compromising positions captured in the base painting style of the western colonies. Felicity had glimpsed a few more bloodier in nature. Those appeared as gratuitous depictions of violence and bloodshed and she wasn’t sure which the deputy found more entertaining.

“Well,” Schroeder said. “I don’t see why we’ve got to ruin a good thing. We’ve been paid. A criminal is going to hang. There’s nothing stopping us from just hopping on and going our merry way.”

“It’s the principal.”

“See, that’s the part where I struggle,” Schroeder said. “We’ve got nothing to prove. We did our job and were paid. I’m pretty ambivalent towards the Bian Chong. If you want to work with him, that’s fine. Coin is coin no matter what Empire it’s from.

“But I don’t see why we should be placing ourselves at unnecessary risk. Hopkins is an outlaw. A despicable man. Lots died in the explosion at the bridge and he didn’t so much as blink an eye.”

“He deserves to hang for what he’s done,” Laure said.

“I ain’t being played a fool.” Felicity’s eyes narrowed. “Pacal wouldn’t want a man to hang for the wrong reasons no matter how much he deserved it. I won’t see Hopkins punished just for gunning Pacal down. Though he ain’t stop the charges from going off he did stop Hopkins from getting away. If Sheriff Plummer had a hand in Pacal’s death – well I’ll see to it he gets the same that Hopkins does.”

“So this is about petty revenge and looking foolish,” Schroeder said.

“It’s about doing the right thing.”

“Right thing. An awfully quaint conceit from us, don’t you think?”

“No.”

“Of course not. When we rob and steal it’s wholly different.”

“Precisely.”

“So long as a line’s been drawn then.”

“Look, even a scoundrel can know the difference between wrong and necessity. What’s important ain’t each individual action but the net worth of our lives. We help those that need it and we avoid stealing from those that ain’t deserving.”

“Didn’t take you for the golden scales kind of gal,” Schroeder said. “Weight of one’s own sins and what not.”

“What else you propose?”

Schroeder shrugged.

“Wu wei. Be like the river and just float along.”

Felicity shook her head.

“Should have guessed. Think we can blow it?”

Laure rapped her knuckles against the stone wall and slowly shook her head. “They build them jails tighter than a hex nut on a vault front for that very reason.”

“It’s true,” Schroeder continued. “A criminal will commit crime. It is his nature. To fight against that nature is to enact your will on the greater cosmic harmony.”

“I ain’t reckoning that’s the priests’ preaching.”

“What would you know? Doesn’t the Lord say something about not killing?”

“I’m fairly certain, given the frame of the discourse, they ain’t agree to turn away from what’s just because the nature of a criminal is cowardice.”

“That’s because you aren’t aligning yourself with the pure force of the universe,” Schroeder said, closing his eyes. He began to weave his hands in stoic mimicry of the priests’ meditations, each limb moving about Felicity in languid, undulating motions as if he were little more than a leaf upon a river rushing to its end.

“I worry what you gather during our trips.”

“Do not fear the unknown,” he continued, his voice slow and peaceful. “Embrace the primordial state. Refuse the desire to assert your will and bend others to your authority.”

Felicity frowned and Schroeder felt the bare of her palm upside his head.

“You see, you disturb the natural balance!”

“Can’t help it – it’s my nature. Now come, your blathering inspired me to our proper course.”

“We’re returning to the train?” Laure asked.

“We should act like the outlaws we are.”

Felicity lifted the pistol in her hands and wove around the jail with the engineer in pursuit. She didn’t wait for the tardy Schroeder, rounding upon the wood front door and casting the briefest glance for watchers.

With a shatter, the latch broke from its hold beneath Felicity’s boot and the startled deputy fell back in his chair. His prints fluttered into the air, falling like thick white leaves about his head. He struggled to address this sudden assault, but as he disentangled from his chair his legs caught about his trousers still wrapped around his ankles. With a shout he tumbled, face cracking against the corner of the desk before he planted upon the floor.

Felicity walked over, pressing the cold tip of the pistol against his cheek.

“How about we not paint this floor today, hm?”

Twisting his lips to the side, the deputy protested.

“The mag already came by to take your money to your ship!”

Felicity heard Schroeder struggling to set the door back in place and motioned urgently for him. As Laure began searching for some restraints, Felicity directed Schroeder to the lawman’s lowered belt and the fop rescued the gun. Felicity took it for a second before pitching it in the dirt outside the jail.

“I’ll tell you how we’re proceeding,” Felicity said. “First thing: my man is going to lift your long johns…”

“Come on!”

“… and then you’re going to tell me which of these desks is the sheriff’s. While we bound your hands, you’ll co-operate yourself peacefully into one of these cells while we get the information we need.”

“We don’t got anything more, I swear!”

The deputy choked back further cries as Felicity pressed the gun harder against his cheek.

“We ain’t looking to steal. Least nothing legal.”

“This about the shipments? Plummer said you ain’t going to collect until the end of the month.”

Laure paused from searching the nearby hooks and even Schroeder turn to the captain at the deputy’s confession. Felicity wasn’t sure she had heard the deputy correctly either.

“You know about that then?”

“Do I?” the deputy asked in faked surprise.

Felicity released one of her two bullets into the floorboards by the deputy’s head. He flinched, giving a great deluge of apologies as his face turned away and his body quivered.

Felicity returned the smoking barrel to his other cheek.

“Must I explain the alternative? Because I reckon I can find what I need before that sham trial ends and still replicate at least one of these.”

She flipped through the wood prints with her boot until she found one particularly torturous one.

“I… what do you wa-want to know…”

Tears started to stream down his face in an unseemly manner. They mixed with the blood oozing from his nose to patter against the smooth floor. Laure located the sheriff’s manacles. The thick iron weighed more than she anticipated and she grunted as she lifted them over. She clasped the bracers around the deputy’s waiting wrists. With the manacles securely fastened, Felicity grabbed roughly at the chain binding them, pulling the deputy from the ground and pressing him up against a post. A quick flick of the chain and she had it wrapped securely about one of the hooks. A final tug confirmed they were solid before she extracted her new knife from her boot.

“What was on that print? Nose to navel?”

She ran the blade sharply down his front, splitting the buttons on his vest and cutting the whole cloth through. The deputy simpered, his entire body shaking violently against the chains.

“I’ll tell! I’ll tell! Please!”

Felicity stepped back. The deputy took four slow breaths, sniffling his bloodied nose as he steadied his heart. When he opened his eyes, he visibly squirmed at the knife tapping impatiently against her neck.

“Ain’t nobody suppose to know. Sheriff Plummer got it right in his head that we could start skimming some off the miners’ shipments. You know, a few crates here and there. Ain’t nobody going to miss a bit of ore. Given the bloody price they go for after awhile we’d have a nice, cozy profit.”

“I ain’t seeing where Hopkins comes in to this.”

“Well… the sheriff, see, he’s getting a little fat on the hog. He’s liking this scheme but reckons there’s more to squeeze. So he gets a couple of the boys together and we wrestle up some bandanas and big hats. Make ourselves like fancy brigands and what-have-you. Ain’t nobody going to question and we can just knock a few ships when they come for their loads.

“But the mag’ ain’t liking this. The bigger our take the more it cuts his profits, see? So he tells Plummer this needs proper concluding. Plummer says he’s doing all he can but the mag’ won’t be satisfied without a neck in the noose. So, Plummer convinces the fool that a few more men is needed for tracking these bandits. The suit agrees and now Plummer’s sitting on a big group of hooligans. More hands means more hauling from the ships when we come knocking.

“But the suit’s getting real angry now. That’s when the Rangers come. Start poking around, see? Guessing he got full of Plummer’s hamstringing and sought the lawmen on his own.”

“Ranger Hayes?” Schroeder asked.

“Naw, not him. First bloke came alone and discovered the sales deeds. Obviously, he gets right suspicious. Plummer gets him taken care of and sends him packing in a five foot hole. But that makes the suit even more irate. So then Plummer gets the brilliant idea to start laying the blame on some actual thieves. Offers some foolish sap way more than its worth to knock over a pointless post then catches him and strings him up.”

“So why was Hopkins sent to blow the Glorious Belt Bridge?” Felicity asked.

“I’m getting to that!” the deputy growled. “See, while the mag’ is happy to see some sap dangling from the cage he’s still right riffed there ain’t no sign of his ore. And the sheriff is prancing around in his fancies and the suit is all dusting for Plummer’s white powdered face. He’s saying that the sheriff best find his ore or heads will roll. sheriff decides it’s best to make it seem they ran the rocks over to the Jaders so the suit will rattle off his back. And what best way to do it than to have an outlaw attempt a daring escape while blowing the route to cover his trails!”

“And the bounty was just to legitimize the scam?” Schroeder asked.

“Naw, that was the Ranger’s idea. Guess offing one don’t get rid of the pack. This one’s even more ornery. At least the first would join us in the saloon from time to time. This Hayes fellow just scowls and heads off into the wilds on his own. Don’t seem none trustful.”

“So where are you keeping the goods?”

The deputy paused, licking dry lips.

“I… don’t rightly know.”

“That’s a shame. And you were doing so well.”

Felicity raised the knife again and the deputy howled before the blade even drew close.

“Check the desk!”

She slapped the deputy hard across the check.

“Which is his?”

Blubbering, the man pointed with his chin. Schroeder hurried over, rifling through the papers on top. But most were notices from townsfolk about petty disturbances or Nicolai frustrated with the lack of progress. Once he’d made a proper mess, Schroeder turned to the drawers, ripping them open and scattering the contents about the floor. But nothing looked like a proper bill of sale. However, as he went to rip the bottom drawer, it caught against the lock and no matter how hard he pulled he couldn’t work it free.

“The key?”

“Do-don’t know. The safe?”

“I ain’t got time for this,” Felicity sighed.

She whistled for Schroeder’s attention then tossed the pistol to him. Schroeder fumbled to catch the weapon, gritting his teeth worried it would discharge in his hands. Once he realized he hadn’t put a bullet through himself he looked back at his captain.

“Just get this done.”

Stepping back, Schroeder closed his eyes and leaned away from the weapon. The crack filled the entire room and a puff curled from the barrel. The bullet splintered wood and he sneaked a peep of his work.

“Not bad,” he smiled.

“What’s inside?”

He pulled the drawer right out from the desk and frowned at his prize.

“Nothing.”

Felicity turned back to the deputy, raising the knife high over her head. The man howled as she thrust it forward. Laure gave a sharp scream. The blade crunched as it bit into the wood. It took a few seconds for the deputy to process what happened and Felicity noted the stain growing along the leg of his long johns. She walked over, looking at the fruits of their labour.

She also frowned at the bare bottom of the drawer.

“That ain’t right. Who locks a naked drawer?”

Schroeder shrugged, leaning over the container and running a slow hand over the surface.

“Could be some sorcerer’s trickery. It’s not unheard of for a magnate to commission a ward or glamour to protect his most important documents. Doubtful the sheriff would be able or inclined, though.”

Felicity saw Schroeder pause, his brow raising curiously.

“You got something?”

“Not a reactant for an incantation. It’s smaller though, like a hole…”

The was a soft crack as he pried the entire bottom loose.

Beneath was a stuffed secret compartment.

A whole pile of paper was kept inside. Felicity snatched them up and as she scanned them she passed them to Schroeder. Stacks of letters and correspondences were jumbled together and as she scanned the spidery, flowing script she noticed they were an exchange between Sheriff Plummer and some cautious individual who only signed as Mr. Qv in a soft, flowing hand.

But the contents were clear enough. The fool went so far to even explain that it was pinched from the magnate’s shipments. Unfortunately, it lacked the location where the sheriff had it stashed and the only mention seemed to be for an exchange in a few days time.

“What do you make of it?”

“Certainly not a bill,” Schroeder said, “but I’d think damning enough. The correspondent is incredibly cautious but we got Plummer’s own confession in writing. Should weigh heavily in a court, I’d wager.”

Felicity stuffed them in her pocket.

“This will have to do,” she said. She motioned at the deputy. “Best bring him along too.”

She pulled the knife from the post, leaving the snivelling man to Schroeder and Laure.

Schroeder struggled to loosen the manacles from the nail and, when he finally did, he gave the man a sharp kick in the rump to get him moving. The deputy stumbled and tripped over his trousers still dragging on the ground but Schroeder refused to lift them. Laure gathered up some of the loose chain, trying to keep it from dragging. Felicity stepped into the street and searched for the town hall. But as the others emerged with the deputy, she could hear the echo of voices ringing through the abandoned town.

The trial had concluded.

I had other plans for posting today but it’s late and now I need to put something else. I promise Friday won’t be a brush off short story post though! At the very least, I think the Bannock short is interested.

The General Store was a single story building with a large sign propped over its porch. The paint had begun to peel, flaking off in large chunks that tumbled to the stoop before being picked up by the wind and carried off. Felicity counted three rusting mining carts, some leaning against the sides and another upturned at the front, all turning a brilliant shade of orange. The dim evening light transformed the rust into vibrant spatters of blood. Only one bulb had been extended to the store. The exposed light was cracked, forming little teeth that seemed to grow from the thin metal plate suspending it.

“Surely we get a good price here. We ain’t got many options left,” Laure whispered. One of the windows was half-boarded, revealing a pile of pots stacked awkwardly on the other side. The second window had its curtains drawn closed but couldn’t hide the glow of the lantern within.

Felicity looked down at the promissory note.

“Desperation could inflate prices.”

“It’s curious. The town be prosperous with its mining and investments from the magnate and yet this ain’t the only building to look worse for wear.”

“From out meeting, I ain’t gathered he’s generous of spirit. So, try and keep things civil,” Felicity cautioned. “I betting they ain’t going to appreciate you pointing out the fact.”

Laure nodded, twisting the cap on her head and consulting her list. The engineer had dressed herself in a plain brown jacket and simple baggy kneed trousers tucked into a coal stained pair of socks. She often wore the part of a youthful male who had done little than steal away on the ship of a passing captain and was pressed into feeding the fires. She rarely said much and was quite happy with tending her own within the sweltering engine.

A bell rung at their entrance, the clerk bowing his head slowly as they pushed past the barrels, axles and linens crowding the front. Felicity took to the counter.

“Evening mist… pardon me, madame. You’ve made good time. I was just preparing to close shop for the eve. But I’ve always got time for a lovely customer such as yourself. How might I assist?”

The clerk gave a wary look to the seemingly young man piling mounds of supplies into his thin arms before reaching over and adjusting the nozzle on his gas lamp and bathing the counter with its orange glow. The flames hissed with the anger of a startled snake and for a moment Felicity felt the familiar wave of heat from gunfire wash over her face before fading into the recesses of her memories.

“My colleague and I desire to stock our ship whilst we’re moored. We’re hoping you can provide.”

“Ship you say? We ain’t have many of those come through recently. Afraid it’s affected my stock some but you’re welcome to whatever I got displayed.”

“Trouble on the rails?” Felicity asked.

The clerk sighed. “Truthful, we’re too far out to draw any serious attention.”

“Then what’s keeping your lines clear?”

“We’re a small community. Don’t like stirring the pot. We rather keep our troubles to ourselves.” The clerk removed his hat, running his hand over his scraggly hair and looking towards the window as if he expected to find someone peering between the boards.

Laure stepped to the counter, depositing the pile of sheets and cloths, metal cogs and wheels, bags of dry oats and wheat, bottles of alcohol and other food stuffs before the clerk. She laid the remainder of the list before him and he held the paper close to the lamp.

“I think I can get some of this. If you’re the ship in port, I can have the bigger things delivered to you by the morrow. Is that all?”

Felicity looked to Laure who nodded. She turned back to the clerk.

“There is one thing I’ve got personal interested in. Had a spot of trouble recently myself and I’ve misplaced my gun. Would reckon a fine store as yours would carry some.”

“We’re a peaceful mining town…” He looked her over, perhaps weighing the likelihood of a hold up from this rough looking woman and her thin fellow.

“I understand but even miners got family to watch.”

The clerk seemed to weigh the situation further. And while his poor streak would no doubt make the haggling difficult, it also opened doors that may have otherwise remained closed.

“Very well.”

He motioned towards the back, casting one last glance towards the window before snatching his lantern. Felicity and Laure followed him to a padlocked door, and the clerk fumbled in search of the key in his pocket.

“We don’t got a proper selection like any fancy city or nothing,” he warned. “But if it’s just the basics, you’re welcome to peruse.”

He pushed the door open to a small supply room. He led Felicity to a counter, removing a cloth over a pile of boxes.

“Can I interest you in something small? I’ve got a couple of pistols and perhaps a six shooter.”

“Where are your rifles?”

“That’s an awful mighty weapon for a little lady,” the clerk shrugged, pulling more cloth to the floor. Dust clouded the air. Clearly there weren’t many passing through but if the shipping was on hard times it seemed reasonable for the townsfolk to try and stock up on protection. Unless whatever plagued the lines was also affecting the miners.

“Got some simple pull levers. They got a bit of a kick though. Got to watch yourself else you could throw your whole shoulder.”

“Let me see the Colt revolver.”

“That? I wouldn’t recommend…”

Felicity held out her hand and the clerk obediently fetched it from the pile. She tested the weight, holding it up and looking down its sights. She fingered the firing mechanism, feeling its resistance. She then flipped the chambers, listening to the smoothness of their revolution.

“Thing about them is they got a nasty tendency to spray.”

“Yes and chain fire in inferior models. It’s an issue with all revolving chambers. Ain’t much a problem with pistols since your arm ain’t in front for balancing,” Felicity said. “But there be times when a faster shot is worth the risk.”

“You could seriously harm yourself, little lady,” the clerk warned.

“Only because manufacturers are limited in their creativity,” Laure spoke. Though her voice was barely a whisper, it drew the attention of both merchant and buyer. Slowly, the shy engineer took the weapon from Felicity’s fingers. Much like her captain, she turned the weapon in her hands. But she wasn’t checking to see if it was in good maintenance. She was checking the parts themselves.

Laure cracked open the barrel as if she were snapping the neck of a chicken. The clerk gave a quick shout but she turned her shoulder, blocking her actions from his view. Immediately flicking a few of the retaining clasps, she popped the chamber effortlessly free. She refitted part of the loading mechanism into the vacated hold, fishing from her pockets some tools to assist with the transformation. The clerk’s shock at her disassembling quieted into fascination as both he and the captain watched her attach a support cleft to balance the chamber allowing it to stick up from the top instead of hang below by the trigger hand.

“Eh, what are you on about there?”

“It’s such a simple design oversight,” Laure said. “You got your chamber set too low in the butt. Raise the firing mechanism and you won’t have your arm in danger. Like so.”

She held it up for the clerk.

“It work?”

“Not currently. It will once I have proper time to rejig with the new elevation. Ain’t nothing fancy and obstructs the vision if you ain’t used to it but hardly worth abandoning the principle. You can keep her faster fire and not burn your fingers.”

“Well, saddle me up to a may waggon and drive me about the pole,” the clerk said, looking over the device. “I don’t believe I ever seen such a thing.”

“No doubt,” Laure said. “Though it ain’t the first I’ve fashioned. How much you charging?”

“That runs about twenty I think.”

Laure shook her head.

“For a faulty design I got to fix before its got any use? I ain’t buying. You get her down to twelve and I may reconsider.”

“Twelve!” The clerk shook his head. “Excuse me but that’s nowhere near reasonable!”

“Very well.”

It happened too fast for the clerk or Felicity to follow. Laure’s fingers flashed over the makeshift fastener and the whole top portion of the gun seemed to fall into its constituent components. She rained the pieces upon the small table in a confounding pile and began to make her way towards the supplies left on the front counter.

Felicity watched the clerk stoop over the parts, tentatively taking one of the pieces and pressing it against the barrel as if the Lord’s will alone would fuse them together. He poked and prodded, trying to separate them into some sort of recognizable mess. After a few moments, it was clear he had no idea how to refashion the weapon into its original state.

And Felicity smiled.

“Wait!” the clerk called. Laure paused, the supplies piled in her arms. The clerk looked between the two woman who watched him expectantly. “You raise an excellent point. Quite unfair of me to not consider the value of your time in working with these fine pieces. Surely it worth… about sixteen? In its current state?”

“Awfully steep price for a gun that don’t fire,” Felicity said. She paused, her eyes roaming over the small pile of weapons. “I tell you what, you throw in that fine looking knife you got there and I think I could do about fourteen.”

The clerk ground his teeth and Felicity waited while he mulled over his options. With reluctance, he snatched the dagger, scooped the mechanical parts into his hand and carried the gun to the front.

“Shall I bundle it for you?”

“She’s as fine as the day she were born,” Felicity smiled. “I’ll pay for this now and the rest of my order once it’s delivered. I believe this should do nicely for the moment.”

She produced the promissory note and slid it across the counter. The clerk picked it up and held it to the lantern. His eyes widened.

“It is true then?”

“Pardon me?”

The clerk lowered the note, looking over the two women.

“You got the bandit? That Hopkins fellow? I hardly dared hope… what even with sir Nicolai coming to town and all…”

“I gather Mr. Nicolai ain’t one for parting with money easily,” Felicity said. “But yes, we got him.”

“Oh Lord’s blessings upon you!” the clerk sighed. An unexpected change washed over him and his face slid into a look of adoration. “Bless the both of you. I assure you, I will make sure to have your supplies to you by the morrow. I’ll even give you a discount for the service you’ve done this community!”

Felicity looked at Laure who simply shrugged.

“Not that I ain’t appreciative of your hospitality,” Felicity said, “but what exactly we done for your fair town?”

The clerk shook his head.

“That Hopkins… a right old villain he was. For months now, our shipments from port have been getting knocked just days from here. Old Bartholomew was saying that there’s been skimming from the mines but none of us took him seriously until every single one of the trains got hit. Seemed clear someone’s been cutting into our work. And it was doing wonders against our prosperity.”

The clerk turned to the window, walking over this time to draw open the curtain and hold his lantern aloft. He looked up and down the street before being satisfied enough to draw the curtains closed again and return to the waiting women. He leaned in close, his voice dropping low.

“Many been whispering it was an inside job, see. Lots of gossip in the streets that the Hopkins fellow was paying off some members to learn about them shipments and to make sure a blind eye was turned. But those trains weren’t just for taking our ore. When they returned, they brought the supplies we needed to support ourselves. That line’s the foundation of our town and Magnate Nicolai’s got full command of it. He makes sure none else come through. Without ore, we got nothing. With each shipment threatened, the magnate stopped ordering them altogether. No shipments means no goods for me and no pay for the miners. We’re broken.”

“Who’s been tipping off Hopkins then?” Felicity asked.

The clerk twisted his lips but shook his head.

“Can’t rightly say. Don’t know who would throw in with the untamed. All I know is the sheriff and his boys don’t appreciate too much talk on the matter.”

“Why is that?” Laure asked.

“Well, there are some who’ve never liked Plummer. Came in when the town was still struggling with its savages. Rode in bright as the day with that gang of his. They were suppose to be some steady shots. Ended up getting quite a few of the skinner’s heads for the magnate. Got appointment to office but he’s a hard man to follow. Order of the law ain’t his speciality if you catch my drift. Lots have been talking about his penchant for fancy suits, especially the newer ones he manages while the rest of the town’s been blanching beneath the drought. But then, from what I’ve been hearing, the magnate’s been sending him more to see that Hopkins gets caught right quick. I can’t rightly say I’ve seen the sheriff’s gang getting bigger so that money’s going somewhere.”

“Guessing he’s not one to take criticism lightly,” Felicity asked.

“You met him then?”

“Briefly. I ain’t saying he left a good impression.”

“Well, now that the ore’s been found, I’m sure things’ll pick up again,” the clerk smiled. “Like I said, you’ve done us a service, ma’am. One ain’t none of us can pay you proper for.”

“It was my pleasure,” Felicity smiled.

She gave a tip of her brim before motioning Laure out the door, clutching the core of her new rifle and carrying the rest of the pieces in her hand.

“I don’t recall you returning with any ore after catching Hopkins,” Laure said.

“We ain’t,” Felicity replied. “But more importantly, I ain’t reckoning I’ve ever seen this trick you’ve done with the rifle!”

And for the first time, the engineer blushed, turning her face to look across the street.

“It was nothing.”

“Was a damn fine play,” Felicity laughed. “I should get you to do more of my haggling. I’ll see to it that your next pay reflects it.”

“As I said, it was really nothing.”

“Well, don’t get none too excited. I ain’t picked it up yet. Unless the promissory will do you?”

“Honestly, I could use a new primer for the ignition more than any thing else.”

“You get this beauty fixed up,” Felicity said, patting her new gun, “and I’ll get you a whole stock of primers you can build a new bed from.”

 

Well, the plan was to do a small rant on people and design as well as make off-handed mention to Felicia. Then I spent several hours going through and doing organizational work on the photos we upload to this site and suddenly I lost all time to make a real post. So here is part two of the Bannock short.

The man waved his white glove. Once each had entered, the dreadful squeal began again and Felicity turned to see a dark complexioned man in a very plain suit working feverishly at a large metal wheel. Sweat beaded his forehead as he cranked the device running up the side of the wall to the heavy hinges upon the door.

“Necessary precaution,” their host explained. “Come, we speak in my office.”

“Likely ensorcelled,” Schroeder whispered. Felicity examined the parts carefully as she passed but saw neither glyph nor mystic adornment attached to the cold steel.

Their host led them through polished doors and along expensive carpets. Gas lanterns hissed on the walls within copper braziers. Spaced between them were exquisite paintings the likes of which had no business being on the frontier. Expensive old world furniture was imported along with Jader porcelain placed on marble pedestals or polished mahogany tables. Brass handles finally opened into an impressive study. A green velvet high back chair faced a small semi-circle of plain wood chairs carved by less experienced hands. The desk was grand, incorporating old designs of the Lord’s resplendent aspects standing triumphantly over twisted untamed with anguished, bestial faces. Thick curtains framed the large window letting in what light still crept over the grand mound outside and casting the stained wood walls in a soft, reddish glow.

A few potted ferns filled the corners but what drew the greatest attention were the two men seated patiently before the desk.

They stood immediately at the older man’s entrance. The first was the sheriff. A large man with a grandiose belly barely contained within his tucked shirt. His pants were pulled well above his burgeoning gut held by a thick belt and bright gleaming clasp that shimmered in the dim sun. He wore uncharacteristically fancy pin stripped pants, a rubbed leather jacket, a gleaming gold star badge and magnificently polished boots. A silver pistol shimmered at his side.

“About time you got here,” he started, his voice heavy with anxiety. But he drew short of further protestations as Schroeder pulled the bound man into the office.

“That is him then?”

The third member hardly spoke above a whisper. No greater contrast could he make compared to Sheriff Plummer. The man wore a simple boiled stripped shirt tucked into riding pants flecked with dirt from the trail. He was a tall man but thin. His face was half concealed in a grand moustache that curled down to his jawline. A pair of gauntlet gloves covered his hands, the fingers worn from use and the wide cuffs stained with sweat. A fearsome rifle was slung over his back and a simple silver pin on his lapel identified him as a Ranger.

“Hide and hair,” Felicity said. She gestured and Schroeder held the cord out to the Ranger.

Their escort rounded on the large chair, pulling it aside and easing into it. He reached for a pipe resting upon the top, lifting it to his teeth as he produced a small match to reignite the cold herbs. He puffed a few breaths before expelling a soft cloud from his lips that encircled his head.

“Please, draw a seat,” their host said, waving at the chairs. “I wish to gather the measure of my heroes before concluding our business.”

Bernhard Nicolai conducted himself with the grandiose airs one would expect from a magnate. His suit was of impeccable quality, and one certainly worthy of Schroeder’s envy. All imported silk from the western colonies but designed and fitted with the precision of eastern craftsmen. Lavish breast kerchiefs stuck from his pocket, a small rainbow of complimentary colours in rich blue, purple and yellow. He wore a brightly patterned ascot running beneath the lapels of his coat. His sideburns covered the length of his chin, tapering to two separate points on either side of his jaw. They were slightly curly and dusted white from his ascending years. But the moustache poised and greased between was as brown and lively as a man nearly half the magnate’s age.

And his dark brown eyes held an energy and fire hardly seen in even the wildest outlaws. This was no aged gentleman used to cozy meetings and deals forged by pen instead of a gun. This was a man who made and created his empire on the frontier and the signs of slothfulness were more badges of his success than hints at a deteriorating state.

Beneath those brows burned a fury that never crept to his lips.

“Please, Henry Plummer, Ranger Hayes, have a seat.”

The Ranger pulled the outlaw to his side. Hopkins simply stood with head lowered as no chair remained for him. In the shadow of the mound, he appeared as little more than a misbehaving slave brought before his master for reprimand.

“It is a pity it come to this,” Nicolai said. “This situation never needed escalation. I invested too much into this enterprise to let such… disturbance ruin it.”

He paused, letting his genteel disgust weigh upon the gathered.

It was, of course, the sheriff who broke first.

“I told you, sir, if I only had-”

“Yes, I am well aware of your requests,” Nicolai interrupted. So quick had his earlier joviality disappeared. “But for all my money I sent in tracking this villain, your progress never made any headway.”

“Sir, the wasteland is a large expanse and…”

“Silence!”

He needn’t say anymore and the sheriff took his peace. A few more puffs of smoke encircled the older man’s head.

“If it would please you, Mr. Nicolai, I’d like to see this ruffian down to the jails,” Hayes drawled. “Must have him prepared for the trial.”

Nicolai turned slowly to the Ranger.

“And then there is you, Mr. Hayes. When I requested assistance of the Rangers, I expected results. Your band is suppose to be the best on the plains. And yet, the first of your order seemed to vanish in so much smoke and…”

“Yes, I am well aware. I continue to invest-”

“Please do not interrupt me again.”

Chilly was his response that even the hardened Hayes grew still. He gave a deferential bow of his head to the magnate.

“You turned up nicht. Nothing! I do not pay the Rangers to post wanted posters. I have many people who can. I expected results and I get but middle men.”

Ranger Hayes cleared his throat.

“The Rangers see that results get done,” he grumbled. “Even if that requires the aid of outsiders.”

“Come, take a look from my window,” Nicolai said, motioning with his pipe. The Ranger raised a brow but obliged. The pair looked at the grand mound lit with the dark red of the retreating sun slinking behind its edge.

“You see this. This town I forged with blood and steel. Before, this was nothing more than a small outpost supplying troops on the furthest lines.”

The pipe encircled the furthest edges of the township and the separate wooden compound half decaying into ruin. What had once housed soldiers, horses and supplies had long been purchased and turned into warehouses supporting the nearby town.

“But then a soldier stumble upon a magnificent discovery when climbing the Mound. You know what he thought, Mr. Hayes?”

“Why they ain’t build their fort on top?”

“Yes, precisely,” Nicolai smiled. “Why set an outpost at the base when you can’t see around. Half the day you are covered in shadow. Well, climbing its top, he found silver rock sticking from the ground as if dropped by flying birds. The soldier reckons he found a silver seam. He thinks he will be rich. But a soldier can’t afford to mine and he requests money and supplies. And do you know who gave those to him?”

“I be guessing it’s you, sir.”

“That’s right. I give the soldier his supplies so he could dig before the one who requested the outpost here. But yet neither sit in this office.

“You see, he found not silver in the earth. He found tin. But tin is not as valuable. Not as easy to find buyers. So, I find them for him. And you know what they say to me? That this not tin. This is wolframite. Do you know what wolframite is, Ranger?”

“I don’t, no.”

“Neither does the soldier. So, I tell him tin not as valuable but I will buy rights from him for more than it is worth. I assure him that I can turn decent profit if I build my own line but that it is not profit if I must split it. Which is true. He accepts and is happy with my price. He gets money and I get mine. And with mine, I get wolframite.

“For rocks are not good as they are. Rocks have more to them. You can look at a stone and see only so much on its surface. But those with keen eyes can find value where others can not. From wolframite you can get what mechanists call tungsten. And they are very happy with it. I have built this town from it. Those lights burn with it. This building is reinforced with it. It has many uses. And that is what makes it valuable. Even more valuable than silver. Now you know why this city built on steel.

“But there is another reason the soldiers build not on the Mound. And that is because the savages revere it. They think nonsense that it houses one of their great spirits. They grow angry that I come and take its wealth; wealth that belongs to their god. They attack my workers as they build my line and my mine.

“And now you know why this city is built on blood. They would not sell their Mound. So I am left with no other recourse than the sword.

“You see, not once did I pass on my responsibility. When the tin needed selling, I sold it. When the ore needed mining, I mined it. When the town needed defending, I defended it. Do you get my point?”

Ranger Hayes gave the magnate a bored look and nodded his head placating. Nicolai smiled, patted the man on the back, then walked to his desk. He picked up a letter opener, his smile never changing. Then he circled the desk and jammed the object square into Hopkin’s wounded shoulder.

The outlaw gave a great cry, falling to his knees and the Ranger shouted as he hurried to his side.

Nicolai simply tightened his grip around the letter opener, twisting it for one final scream from the outlaw and retracting it while wiping its edge with one of his kerchiefs.

“I do not appreciate those who steal from me,” he said. “You can tell your boss that I only pay half price for a half job. I will not be cheated by thieves or louts. Now go, and do your half job.”

Ranger Hayes stood with a terrible rage in his eyes. But he said nothing as he pulled the outlaw to his feet. They excused themselves and Nicolai rounded on the sheriff, his letter opener still in his hand.

“We are done.”

The sheriff stammered an apology and acknowledgement, getting to his feet and hurrying after the Ranger. Nicolai watched him with darkened eyes, never turning away until his study door closed behind them.

Then he finally regarded Felicity, his warm smile returning like a dawning sun.

“Now, to our business.”

“We just aim to be paid,” Felicity said.

“Yes, I know your kind well.”

He searched his bureau, pulling out a sheet of paper and dipping his quill into a sleek ink pot. As the tip scratched across the surface, he spoke though his eyes never left the note, “There is much to be learned in business, and not just the value of stone. Quality never depreciates in value. And one can always find a use for something of value even if others fail to recognize it themselves.”

Nicolai looked up, holding the slip for Felicity. She crossed the plush carpet to pick the note from his fingers. Written in impeccable script was a promissory for her services to be exchanged at the constabulary and through trade goods produced in the town. Nicolai’s signature drew elegantly across the bottom, framing the seal that made the document official.

“Much appreciated, sir.” Felicity added the last after a moment’s hesitation.

Nicolai leaned back, clutching his pipe and puffing a few clouds into the air.

“I do not begrudge you, fair hunter,” he said. “You perform your duty. Unlike the others, that money is well spent. It gets results and I care not how they achieved.”

He sighed, looking out the window for a moment.

“Competition breeds strength. While others may not notice, many tracks come to Bannock. Not all of them finished. Not all of them mine. Many have seen value in the Mound. It takes dirty hands to reap a harvest.”

He thrummed his fingers against the desk as if he were weighing some deeper consideration.

“By your leave, sir, I’d appreciate the chance to bear witness to Hopkin’s trial,” Felicity said.

Nicolai looked at her, his expression blank.

“You two have history?”

“Ain’t more than what it took to get him,” Felicity said. “Came at much a price I ain’t enjoy paying. And your generosity don’t cover some losses. I like to see my work to the end, sir, and there’s some satisfaction in seeing justice run its course. In my profession, it often to my benefit to know a job’s right and done.”

Nicolai nodded slowly.

“Very good. I will arrange your ship to harbour.”

“Thank you, sir.”

I’ve been teasing pieces of my second novel, the Clockwork Caterpillar, and recently wrote a short story set in its world and ostensibly with some of its characters. It was for a competition which, sadly, I didn’t win but that just means you fine folk get to visit Bannock earlier than expect. So there’s a silver lining there.

Over the Broken Bones of Bannock

The whistle gave its forlorn cry. It was the shriek of a bullet right before it tears through flesh and finds mortal rest deep in the bosom of a mighty warrior. The metal wailed as brakes ground against wheels; a morose dirge for the fallen accompanied the sparks hissing into the air as a final rifle salute. It was a cry for the end of a journey. The abrupt stop, though expected, always came too early. It caught its passengers off guard no matter what preparations they took. And no matter how often Felicity went through it, each time still stung as harshly as the first.

A cloud of steam puffed from the vents creating a shrouding fog that rose from the ground about the warm steel. But heavy was the itching smell of burnt coal that carried in the wind to sting eyes and rasp throats. The metal groaned as the great sectioned leviathan came clanking down the track. With a final, resolute shudder the steel beast drew to its rest. The feet of its passengers went to work about her but they were like ghosts drifting in and out of her memory. Faces blended together and echoing voices took on different names. She could see people that no longer worked the line. Some of them were faded and indistinct, just wisps of fleeing memories. One was a young soldier, his hair tinged with the first greys and clinging to a sweaty face struggling against the consuming flames. The next was a missionary, the wide brim of his cappello romano dotted with holes that cast soft beams on a pallid face.

She then felt a hand on her shoulder, its size and warmth causing her to jump in her seat. But when she turned, it wasn’t a golden face that looked down upon her. Instead, it was the blue eyes of her engineer looking concerned from a coal smeared and sweaty face.

“We’ve arrived, captain.”

“Thanks, Laure. Best tell Schroeder to get him then. Should look to replenish our supplies while we’re here too.”

She grabbed for a gun no longer there, cursing her absent mind. She settled on her wide black hat and threw on a long duster stained with the dirt and blood of the trails. It was a wild frontier beyond the steps of the tracks and very little of it could ever be scrubbed off those that wandered it. She looked at the indistinct shades while adjusting her collar. Some of those stains were her own. Many were not. Those were left from the holes she dug and only the darkening off the cuffs remained of their passage.

She shook the door open.

The station master stepped forward. He was clad in the faded black and white stripped shirt common for his profession. A worn cap pulled over wiry white hair and a spotted forehead. Dulling eyes followed the soft ticking hands of the pocket watch, waiting for the final whistle cry before dried lips shouted the announcement.

“Fourteen and two to the hour and nay a second more!”

He clapped the watch closed, tucking it into the breast pocket as he clasped his aged hands behind his jacket. The formality of his posture tickled the back of Felicity’s mind and it was easy in the clinging steam to see another person in the fog. The long shadows looked like thick feathers drained of their once vivid colour. Curls of smoke filled a frame until it created the outline of a giant man bound with thick muscles and adorned in faded jade of the southern tribes.

Then the steam disappeared and the aged station master turned to the door. His polished shoes tapped the smooth wood of the station’s deck while an anxious finger picked at the tail of his short jacket. He smiled at the sight of his first visitor.

“Greetings and welcome to the grand shores of Bannock.”

Felicity still held the door half in its frame. With the last wisps of smoke clearing from her long black hair, the master looked at the woman’s expressionless face.

“You… are the party Metticia?”

“S.J.!” she called, turning her thin neck towards the machine’s innards.

“Aye, captain?”

“Care to deal?”

The navigator appeared behind her shoulder, adjusting the thick spectacles upon his nose.

“Mr. Metticia?”

“Oh!” S.J. cried fumbling the papers in his hand. “Lord’s Graces, forgiveness I plead. Forgiveness!”

Felicity pressed to the side as the navigator stumbled down the steps.

“That’s right, we’re the scheduled ship. But, see, Metticia isn’t my name. We’re on the sheriff’s business. Fulfilling a request of his, we are. I’ve got the papers!”

The final declaration was committed after but a moment’s pause. He shuffled through the clutched stack, offering one but quickly rescinding as the station master’s hands began to settle.

“Sorry, forgiveness Graces, that’s for the Expanse. Bannock, right? You’re a Schroeder, nay, Nicolai line?”

He turned to the station for an answer. While the name of the town was displayed prominently in bold letters above the main double doors, a number of names and lists were posted on its wood exterior.

“We’re Nicolai,” the station master confirmed as he craned his neck to look over the papers in the other man’s hands.

But S.J. kept them from sight. The master’s shoes tapped an impatient beat, one that echoed in Felicity’s ears like the last shudders of a dying heart. The tap flooded her hands with the warmth of memory, the touch of blood covering her fingers while she cried vainly into haunting winds.

S.J.’s sheets fluttered between his fingers until he produced the permit. The station master took it, clearing his throat as he held the paper to the light of the afternoon sun. He scanned the document, eyes drifting over the letters themselves but paying closer attention to the seals and signatures for signs of duplicity or forgery.

Felicity shook her head of the clinging thoughts and stepped from the engine. She gave her navigator a pat on the back.

“Make sure this is properly sorted. And take care to see we lay in port for a good while. We wouldn’t want to rush the magnate.”

“The magnate?” the master asked. “You’re here to see him?”

“I would hope,” Felicity said. She snapped her fingers and gave a quick whistle. To the master’s surprise, a young man appeared as ridiculous as he was stylish. His hair was slicked and immaculately placed. A crisp suit with full breast pockets, polished shoes and high banded collar clasped his slender frame. His guise was professionally cut and more befitting the busy streets of the Old World than the dusty steps of a frontier station. But it wasn’t the allusion to wealth that stayed the master’s tongue but the long barrelled rifle slung over the sharpshooter’s back and the thick cord in his hands. With a tug, he produced the other end which bound an unsettling man in bloodied skins and a great bandage about his shoulder.

The station master looked questioning.

“We assist with deliveries,” Felicity explained.

The man was yanked unceremoniously from the train and the woman led their small party across the station’s deck. The master couldn’t help but stare.

“Is that him, then? Dirty Hopkins?”

The station master didn’t even wait for a proper response before spitting upon the man’s filthy clothes.

“If you had any decency, you’d have thrown yourself off the Glorious Belt and into the Lord’s arms!” the master shouted. The bound man snapped against his restraints. Felicity simply whistled and S.J. quietly lead the master inside to work out their details. She gave a sharp tug on the rope to bring her captive to heel.

“You best behaving. Caused enough commotion at the bridge and I don’t need to hand you over to the magnate. It ain’t too late to grab some rope, turn around and drag you behind on the way out.”

Hopkins ceased squirming and Felicity turned to the town. A great mound towered intimidatingly, casting a long shadow over the frontier shops and homes. Most were simple, squat structures with false fronts and single stories. Between them snaked thin lines leading to small metal plates with dangling glass bulbs. The crackle of electricity filled the air and the lights flickered with the timely beat of the currents. Uneven pools winked in the dark, overbearing shadow of the soaring earth.

One building loomed over the others, a veritable bastion of tarnished steel rising in defiance of the great bulge opposite it. Its metal façade dominated the neighbouring wood, like a steel plant had grown up from the rail running through the centre of town as if the connection with the extensive network snaking the plains was a great iron root. Steady white bulbs washed the bold name of Bernhard Nicolai L.P. printed in golden letters. Thick columns of steel imitated the Doric style of antiquity. Their trunks supported a wrought balcony fringed in gold leaf and wreathed with simple ivy. The front entrance itself was a great piece constructed of bright swirls with heavy iron handles. It was like approaching the entrance of a great fortified keep rather than a place of business.

Felicity waved the slicker and captive on and the three stepped carefully over the rail and to the front steps. Their boots struck against dried wood and she looked with surprise to her companion.

“Expected it to be steel too.”

“These men love their false finish,” Schroeder said. “Almost better than the real thing. At least if it’s cheap.”

She raised a hesitant hand to the iron front and pounded a loud greeting.

Her knuckles stung from the iron and she idly rubbed the bone as they waited. After a few minutes, they could hear movement on the other side. The footsteps proceeded a great screech of metal against metal as the door opened like the thick front of a vault. Felicity stepped out of the way as the interior was revealed before them.

Standing in the centre of the foyer was a man wearing a fine suit and a congenial smile.

“Ah, you must be honoured Felicity,” he said, stretching out his arms. His voice was thick with a heavy but unidentifiable Ilian accent. It was a curious blend of central eastern influences.

“Mr. Nicolai?” Felicity asked.

“Come, come.”