Lightning Wolves

by David Lee Summers

  Larissa took off her hat and looked at the goggles that rested on the brim—her one memento of flight. “It’s not that.” She stared at her reflection in the goggles’ lenses as she tried to put her concerns into words. “Even if we find this spectral camel rider and learn what it is, what good will it do?”

  The professor looked over his shoulder in the direction the lobo had gone. A few puffs of steam showed it still made steady progress southward. “It’s certainly true we might find this is nothing more than some unfortunate soul who died strapped to a camel’s back. If that is so, we will have evidence. The miners and the Apaches may return to the area.”

  “Is that really a good thing?” Larissa ran her fingers along the hat brim. “If both miners and Indians return, it’ll just mean more fighting.”

  “You may be right about that.” Maravilla sighed. A moment later, he brightened. “On the other hand, we may learn this really is a spirit of the dead.”

  She jerked her head toward the professor, nearly dropping her hat. “And how would that be a good thing?”

  “It would be proof of life after death.” The professor slapped his leg. “It would be a way for us to make our mark on the world of science.”

  She looked around at the cacti and the low scrub. “It’s a pretty grim picture of the afterlife. Wandering for all eternity in this place.” She snorted. “I’d like to think we join the angels among the clouds. Maybe that’s why I like flying so much. It’s one step closer to paradise.”

  Maravilla stood in silence for a long time. His eyes darted back and forth, as though he listened to a silent conversation. “Paradise is quite elusive.”

  The bounty hunter laughed nervously at the cryptic response. “And just how long have you been looking for paradise?”

  “About as long as I can remember.” For a moment, Larissa thought the professor’s voice had taken on a strange, resonant timbre, as though multiple voices spoke at once. He nodded, as though agreeing with himself, then walked over to his horse and gave it a cursory pat on the neck. A moment later, he retrieved a notebook and pencil from his saddlebag. He sat down on a nearby rock and began making notes.

  Larissa looked at her reflection in the goggles again and wondered just who she saw. Was she a tough bounty hunter, fighting to bring justice and balance to the world? Was she the assistant to some mad scientist who seemed lost in his own mind? Or was she just a lonely, young woman running away from a past she didn’t want to remember?

  <<>>

  Ramon wiped his hands as he finished weeding his mother’s garden. As he walked back to the house, he watched Fatemeh step outside, carrying a bucket. She wore a long, black skirt that concealed her legs, but the lacy blouse accented her full figure. It was hard to describe her as graceful—more like sure and confident. Nevertheless, a warm feeling of pride welled up in his chest that she wanted to marry him.

  A burrowing owl flew up and lit on a fencepost near the house. It chirped and moved from one leg to the other. Fatemeh crouched low and whistled. The owl whistled again and flew off.

  Ramon chuckled to himself. “So, what did that owl tell you?” he asked.

  “Ramon, you know better than that. Owls just chirp and whistle.” Fatemeh grinned. “Nevertheless, I believe we’ll have a visitor soon.”

  Ramon looked off in the distance. A dust cloud moved along the road toward the homestead. He adjusted his glasses and looked closer. Someone came at a full gallop. As the rider approached the house, he slowed and began brushing dust from his arms. The golden chevrons of a sergeant adorned his blue uniform sleeve. The rider came to a stop. “Ramon Morales?” he asked.

  Ramon nodded. “That’s me.”

  “I’m Sergeant Michael Harris from Fort Bliss in El Paso.” He reached into his saddlebag and retrieved a wax-sealed envelope. Ramon took the letter while Fatemeh introduced herself and offered the soldier some water.

  “Much obliged, ma’am,” he said as he dismounted and removed his hat.

  She continued to the water pump and filled a bucket. Returning to the porch, she passed a full ladle to the soldier.

  Ramon looked to Fatemeh. “This is from Major Johnson.”

  “It’s Lt. Colonel Johnson, now,” Harris interjected.

  Ramon looked at the letter and nodded. Johnson had been his commanding officer for the short time he was in the army, fighting the Russians in Denver. “Colonel Johnson says he has an important job for me and has offered good pay if I succeed.”

  “Working for the army doesn’t sound like the path we discussed.” Fatemeh scowled, her tone cold.

  “I don’t think I have much choice. He says the Russians are continuing their resistance in the Northwest and they need my help. Colonel Johnson wants me to find Professor Maravilla. Apparently the professor’s ornithopters haven’t been effective against the Russian ground forces in Washington Territory.”

  “So they want the professor to improve his design, is that it?”

  “That, or invent something better,” interjected Sergeant Harris. “We’re looking for all the help we can get.” He dipped his ladle into the bucket and took another drink.

  “I really thought the war was over when...” Fatemeh cast a glance at Sergeant Harris, then led Ramon a short distance away. “I thought the invasion ended when we destroyed the airships. What’s keeping them there?”

  “They’re imperialists, ma’am,” said the sergeant, who set the ladle into the bucket. “America’s a free country. I’m sure it rankles the colonial powers in the old world.”

  Fatemeh snorted. “That makes no sense. Czar Alexander has granted more freedoms to his people over the years, not less. Why would he want to conquer America all of a sudden?”

  “Who knows how Russians think, ma’am.”

  “I imagine they think much the same as you or me.” She put her hands on her hips and glared at the sergeant.

  Ramon stepped between the two. “What the Russians think isn’t what’s most important here. Lives are being lost. I think it would be good if Professor Maravilla could find a way to help end the invasion once and for all.”

  Fatemeh looked to the ground and shook her head. After a moment, she met Ramon’s eyes and her gaze softened. “I’m pleased to hear the peacemaker in you speaking out, but I wonder whether taking the professor to the army really would help the cause of peace.”

  “I suggest we all have a little supper, then continue this conversation later,” said Ramon with a glance back at Sergeant Harris.

  Fatemeh opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again and nodded. Ramon led the sergeant inside and introduced him to his mother.

  Sofia Morales took the sergeant’s big hand in both of her tiny ones and said, “A pleasure to meet you.”

  The sergeant looked around and turned his toe on the wood floor. “Is there a boarding house or a hotel here in Estancia? Perhaps I should make arrangements for the night before we settle in to talk.”

  Ramon opened his mouth, but Sofia cut him off. “Nonsense. You can stay here, Sergeant. That way you’ll have plenty of time to discuss plans and see if Ramon can help.”

  Ramon held out his hands and looked around, trying to figure out where they had room for the sergeant.

  Sofia winked. “He can stay in your room,” she said, as though reading his mind.

  Ramon’s shoulders slumped. After a moment, he forced a smile and indicated the sergeant should follow him to the room.

  “Your lady friend sure is something else,” said Harris, while they worked to make a somewhat comfortable place to sleep on the floor. “It’s almost like she was taking the Russians’ side.”

  Ramon shook his head. “It’s not that. When I was a sheriff, I found it helped to solve problems if I understood both sides in a dispute. We’re Americans, so we know that side. Do you know why the Russians haven’t left? What do they hope to gain by staying?”

  The sergeant pursed his lips. “I would think territory.”

  “But terri
tory for what.” Ramon shrugged. “Russia’s a big country. They’ve got farmland. They have mines. They have forests. What does America have that they don’t? Besides, last I knew, they were having problems with the Ottoman Turks. Why would they send such a large force here, when they’re worried about invasion at home?”

  “I see your point. It doesn’t make much sense, does it?” The sergeant took off his hat and scratched his head. “Could be gold. They grabbed the mint in Denver. That’s where most of the gold from California goes. Maybe they always planned to take California.”

  “It’s a lot of maybes, Sergeant Harris. But I’ve learned Fatemeh sometimes has good insight into these things. It pays to listen to her.”

  “Well, our job isn’t to figure this out. It’s just to get this Professor Maravilla back to Fort Bliss.”

  Ramon nodded. Smelling stewed chicken, he led the sergeant back out to the kitchen. There, Sofia served bowls of Caldo de Pollo. The sergeant eyed his meal skeptically for a moment, but dove in when he recognized it was a simple vegetable stew with chicken.

  After supper, Ramon and the sergeant helped clear the table and clean the dishes. Then Ramon and Fatemeh went out for a walk. The sun was low on the horizon and a gentle breeze blew, rustling the tall grass. Crickets chirped and a few dragonflies darted through the air.

  “I’ve been thinking about what you said, corazón. I think it would help if we knew exactly what the Russians wanted,” said Ramon.

  “I agree, and Professor Maravilla might be able to help with that.”

  “Exactly!” Ramon was breathless, pleased that Fatemeh concurred. “Maybe he could be persuaded to find a way to spy on the Russians instead of fighting them.”

  Fatemeh shook her head, disappointed. “Do you remember when I told you about the creature from the stars called Legion?”

  Ramon nodded. The creature called Legion somehow controlled the Russians’ minds and had helped them conduct their invasion. According to Fatemeh, the creature had agreed to stop helping the Russians, which allowed the owl riders to win their victory. He couldn’t really picture the being. He wasn’t even sure he believed in it at all, but if Legion existed, perhaps it had reneged on its promise and was helping the Russians after all.

  “When we last saw the professor, I began to wonder if he might be talking to Legion… all his new ideas.”

  Ramon shrugged. “I thought it was just everything he saw in the battle.”

  Fatemeh’s eyes drifted skyward to the first stars beginning to appear. “Maybe.” Her gaze drifted back and met Ramon’s. “Or maybe if this Legion talked to the professor, it gave him some idea about what it wanted.”

  “Could this Legion be talking to the Russians?”

  “I don’t know.” Fatemeh rubbed the bridge of her nose. “It sounded to me like it had regretted its actions working with the Russian military and was going to move on, but maybe I misunderstood.”

  “So you agree I should find the professor and talk to him?” Ramon smiled, hopeful.

  “I do.” Fatemeh folded her arms and looked toward the horizon. “I’m just not sure about doing it for the army.”

  Ramon placed his hands on Fatemeh’s shoulders and felt the tension there. “It’s the army’s problem to deal with the invasion.”

  “The army’s job is to fight, not to make peace.” Fatemeh turned around and grasped Ramon’s hands. “Talk to the professor and learn what you can. Just promise me this, if he doesn’t want to go to Fort Bliss, don’t make him.”

  “You have my word, corazón.” Ramon squeezed Fatemeh’s hands, then brought her close and sealed the promise with a kiss.

  Chapter Five

  Ghost Rider on Camelback

  Larissa dreamed she walked through a cemetery.

  She strode between rows of upright, polished tombstones. Sunlight reflected in her eyes, making them water. The sound of her boots crunching on the pink sand syncopated with the driving wind blowing through the isolated patch of hallowed ground. She stopped in front of a small grave marker. The unrelenting wind and sun had shredded and faded the doll’s pretty dress. Its glass eyes stared at her in silent accusation. The porcelain doll, Lyssa Crimson reclined against a marker inscribed with the name Alethea Seaton.

  Larissa’s hands trembled as she dropped to her knees before the doll, heedless of the gravel cutting into her knees through the fabric of the long dress she wore. “Don’t you understand? There’s nothing I could have done. She had rheumatic fever. I’m good at fixing things, but that’s one thing I don’t know how to fix!”

  As Larissa wept into her hands, she saw images of other little girls. She saw Venita Brown from Childress, who had a cough that wouldn’t go away. She couldn’t see a doctor because a band of desperadoes had stolen the payroll from the ranch where her daddy worked.

  Larissa saw Melinda Scott, a vibrant girl in pigtails who used to play with Alethea. Her parents were killed in a bank robbery and Melinda went to live with her aunt up in Lubbock who owned a hotel. Larissa remembered Melinda riding away on a buckboard, tears cutting trails through dust-stained cheeks.

  Maybe she couldn’t fix rheumatic fever, but she saw ways she could help little girls everywhere. All she had to do was learn how to use a gun and outsmart the bad guys.

  She looked up with a newfound sense of purpose, but that purpose soon turned to ice in her gut as she saw another tombstone in the cemetery. The name on the marker read James Ellway. The scene darkened, as though a shade had been drawn. She stood outside a saloon in the Texas panhandle, waiting for Ellway to step outside.

  “Come with me, please,” she said when he appeared.

  He neither resisted nor tried to run away. He just laughed. He laughed at the young woman who fancied herself a bounty hunter.

  There was an explosion. Larissa had fired and the bullet flew straight and true, right into Ellway’s brain. He fell to the ground in a billowing of dust. His watch dropped from his waistcoat pocket and flopped open, revealing a picture of Ellway with a woman and a young boy. Larissa knew right then that she had made the boy an orphan. She did not stay to collect the bounty. She turned and ran until she reached her hansom cab. She climbed into the seat and snapped the reins riding away as fast as she could. She bounced and jostled until finally her eyes popped open and she realized that Professor Maravilla stood over her, prodding her shoulder.

  Larissa sat up and rubbed her eyes. “What time is it?”

  “It’s nearly 6 o’clock. The lobo returned just a few minutes ago. Help yourself to some coffee while I prepare the chemicals.”

  Larissa stretched and yawned, then climbed to her feet. The lifeless wolf seemed to watch her as she poured the coffee. Its fur was dirty and covered with burrs. She knew it was just clockworks inside a wolf skin, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that the wolf’s spirit was disappointed that she had not done a better job of facing her past. She shook her head, knowing she was just rattled by the dream. She sipped the coffee, then knelt down by the clockwork wolf, dusted it off and began picking out burrs.

  Meanwhile, the professor hung black cloth in the hansom cab’s windows and set two trays on the seat. He retrieved brown jars from one of his chests and poured the contents into the trays. He inspected the makeshift darkroom and nodded satisfaction. Then he retrieved the black blanket they had used when loading the photographic plates into the wolf along with a black cloth bag. Turning, he saw Larissa picking out the burrs. “Yes, he can become quite a mess as he makes his journeys. Help me get the plates out, then you should get some breakfast.”

  Larissa nodded. She helped him cover the lobo with the black blanket and crawled underneath with the professor, wondering how such a scene would appear to the barmaid back in Tucson. Running her hands along the lobo’s fur, she found the hatch and held it open, while the professor reached inside. He counted out the photographic plates, placing each one carefully into his bag. “I think that’s everything,” he said.

  She closed the hatch and
lifted the blanket, relieved that no one aimed a gun at them. The professor returned to the hansom cab, stepped through the blanket he had draped earlier and closed the doors behind him. Just then, Larissa’s stomach began to rumble.

  She searched through her supplies and found a bag of oats. She longed for fresh eggs, but oatmeal would have to do.

  Half an hour later as she finished her breakfast, the professor emerged from the wagon. “Ah ha! We’ve found it! Begin packing. The game’s afoot.”

  <<>>

  Early that same morning, Ramon and Sergeant Harris saddled their horses to ride into Albuquerque. The town wasn’t much larger than Estancia, but it was the closest point with a telegraph station. A few minutes later, Fatemeh appeared wearing a gingham blouse and buckskin trousers. Suspicious of the change from her usual skirt, his brow furrowed. His suspicions were confirmed when she began saddling her horse.

  “Where are you going?” asked Ramon.

  “With you, of course,” she said.

  “Now wait just a minute,” interjected the sergeant. “We only have enough money for two men and their horses to make a roundtrip to Flagstaff. Once we’re sure the professor’s expecting us, we’ll be on our way.”

  “That’s fine. I don’t plan to accompany you to Flagstaff.” Fatemeh cinched up the straps on her saddle, then placed the bridle around her horse’s head. Satisfied that everything was as it should be, she patted the horse’s neck. “Besides, what happens if the professor isn’t there? I might just be able to help you search for him.”

  “She has a point,” said Ramon.

  “All right,” grumbled the sergeant. “Just don’t slow us down.”

  “As you wish.” Fatemeh grinned, then grabbed the saddle horn, pulled herself up and clicked her tongue. The horse shot from the barn at a run. A burrowing owl on a fencepost took off and flew after her.

  Ramon laughed as he pulled himself into his saddle and followed Fatemeh. Harris shouted a string of curse words in his wake, but a few minutes later, both men had caught up with Fatemeh when she slowed her horse to a trot.