Lightning Wolves

by David Lee Summers

  “We should have good weather for our ride,” she said. Ramon followed her gaze. The burrowing owl swept an arc ahead of them. It settled to the ground, then bobbed from one leg to the other and whistled, as though wishing them a happy journey. A moment later, it spread its wings and flew back toward the farm.

  <<>>

  “Whoa.” Larissa tugged on the reins, bringing the hansom cab to a stop. She looked around at the way the mountains rose gently from the desert floor. A small mesa jutted out at them. Larissa couldn’t help but think that the mountains were sticking out an enormous tongue. “Professor, can I see that photo again?”

  The professor pulled up alongside Larissa and fished the glass photographic plate from his coat pocket. The photo clearly showed a ghostly negative image of a camel with a spindly figure like a skeleton on its back. Larissa had seen enough skeletons to know they didn’t stay in one piece on their own. Perhaps someone had gone to a lot of work to wire the skeleton together. Perhaps the skeleton was something sculpted. Perhaps there really was some mystical energy at work. In any event, photographic evidence of the mysterious camel rider now existed, and a roiling need to solve this odd mystery churned in Larissa’s gut.

  Larissa studied the photo—this time, less interested in the strange apparition than in the terrain. She nodded, noting the same configuration of mesa and mountains. “I think we’re in the right area.” She climbed down from the seat behind the cab, retrieved her Springfield rifle from within, then stepped forward, looking for signs the ground had been disturbed.

  Professor Maravilla retrieved his telescope and scanned the area as well.

  “I’ve never actually seen a camel, Professor. What kinds of tracks will I be looking for?”

  Maravilla lowered the telescope and rubbed his chin. “Footprint a little larger than a horse, I’d imagine. Their hooves aren’t as hard as a horse and they have two toes.”

  “What about their droppings? Like a horse?”

  “I’m not really sure.” The professor’s brow furrowed. “They’ll be big like a horse or an elk.”

  Larissa nodded as she made her way to where some foliage had been broken. “Ah hah!” she said as she spied a line of deep wolf tracks. She smiled and turned toward the professor. “I think our lobo came through here.” She stood in its path and looked around. The terrain now looked even more like the photograph. She tried to visualize where the camel had stood. With a nod, she jogged in that direction. A moment later, she looked down and grinned. She knelt down beside a two-towed track and opened her hand to gauge the scale. “I think he passed through here.”

  The professor rode close, then climbed off the horse. He retrieved a pad from his saddlebag and sketched the hoof print. “Do you think you can track it?”

  “Through here it’s easy.” She followed the tracks with her eyes. “It gets rockier over there. We’ll have to see.”

  With a nod, the professor pulled himself onto his saddle. Larissa climbed back into the cab’s seat. They followed the trail for about two miles. As Larissa feared, the ground became much rockier as they progressed. There was no way she could continue with the cab. “Let me see how far this extends and if I can pick up the trail.” She looked around at the sun. Only an hour or so of daylight remained. “It’s possible we’ll have to make camp here and follow this on foot.”

  Maravilla nodded as Larissa climbed down. She followed the trail another half mile until she came across a flat rocky outcropping. She shook her head. From that point, the camel could have gone anywhere. They would have to scout around the perimeter, but too little light remained to do that. Looking around, she saw the professor watching her through his telescope. She gave an exaggerated shrug and trudged back toward him.

  As she drew near, he held up his hand. “What?” she asked.

  He shushed her. A moment later, she heard it. A grunting and a snuffling accompanied a clockwork ticking not unlike that made by the professor’s wolf. Maravilla eased his horse around and Larissa shielded her eyes against the sunlight. “That’s it,” said the professor with undisguised glee.

  Larissa drew in her breath at the sight of the shaggy camel. On its back was, indeed, a skeleton. Despite the heat, goosebumps rose on her flesh as it looked toward her. She backed up half a step, snapping a twig. The camel whipped its head in their direction, then veered away.

  “We need to catch it,” called the professor.

  Words froze in the back of Larissa’s throat. She couldn’t look away from the skeleton camel rider. However, as she continued to look, she realized the skeleton’s head swung back and forth in a predictable manner. It hadn’t actually looked at her, it just moved that way. “I don’t think I can get it on foot,” she croaked at last.

  The professor nodded, then climbed into his saddle, squeezed the horse’s flanks with his knees, and clucked his tongue. The animal shot off toward the camel. Seeing the horse approach, the camel brayed horribly, unleashed a big glob of white spit, then bolted toward the river, unseating the skeleton. Maravilla brought his horse to a stop and dismounted. Larissa ran up and joined him. Together they approached the skeleton.

  It lay on the ground, in two pieces, spine broken just above the hip bones and missing the hands. Its head still turned back and forth. Within the rib cage a set of gearworks turned, like those inside the mechanical wolf, but simpler. A rod extended from the gears which turned the head back and forth. The professor reached inside the rib cage and disengaged the clutch, stopping the motion.

  “Whoever built this wanted to scare people away,” said the professor.

  Larissa crouched by the skeleton and frowned, almost disappointed that it was a man-made apparatus after all. Thick wires protruded through the spine. She reached out and touched the broken end, shinier than the rest of the wire. “It was meant to last, but it’s seen quite a bit of wear. This wire’s been jarred around and twisted. Hard to say whether the wire broke first, or the rope holding the skeleton in place.”

  The professor retrieved his telescope and scanned the horizon. “There’s no sign of the camel. If we’re going to continue this search, we’ll need fresh supplies. We could also use help from someone who knows where people could hide around here.”

  “The Apaches?”

  “Yes,” said the professor. “I think they’ll be very interested to know what we’ve found.”

  <<>>

  Ramon, Fatemeh, and Sergeant Harris rode into the small town of Albuquerque the following afternoon. An adobe building next to the Central Pacific Railroad depot housed the telegraph station.

  Inside, the clerk sat at a desk with his feet propped up, arms folded across his chest and snoring. Sergeant Harris banged on the counter and the man looked up with a start. “I’m Sergeant Michael Harris. I’d like to send a telegram to a Professor Maravilla in Flagstaff.”

  Fatemeh cleared her throat. “The professor was at the Grand Canyon, not Flagstaff. Who knows how often he comes into town for messages.”

  “Well, do you have a better idea?” asked the sergeant.

  “We could send a telegram to Mr. Leroy Foster,” suggested Fatemeh.

  “Who’s Leroy Foster?” asked Ramon.

  “He’s the blacksmith that works with Professor Maravilla. If anyone knows where to find him, he will.”

  Ramon looked over at Harris. “See, I told you bringing her along was a good idea.”

  Harris snorted and folded his arms while Fatemeh dictated a short message. The clerk keyed it in, then collected the fee.

  “Nothing to do now but wait for an answer,” said Fatemeh. “I don’t know about you but I’m hungry. I think we should find dinner and a place to spend the night.”

  “This isn’t in the budget, you know,” said the sergeant.

  “Next time, you’ll just have to plan for the unexpected.” Fatemeh smiled, then took Ramon’s hand and led him out to the street.

  <<>>

  Billy walked between the rows of chile plants, looking for weeds to
pull and inspecting for damage from animals. The little plants seemed hardy and self-reliant compared to other plants Billy had heard about. For that, he was grateful.

  A man with bristly white hair and two days’ growth of beard tottered along the ditch bank. Billy walked in that direction, arriving at the floodgate at the same time as the mayordomo of the acequia that diverted water out of the Rio Grande for irrigation.

  “Tiempo para el agua?” Billy asked if it was time to water.

  The old man nodded and took out his pocket watch. “Sí, Billy.”

  Billy reached over and turned the handle, opening the floodgate. He loved the earthy smell that rose as the water eased its way between the rows of chile plants. Billy and the mayordomo made small talk in Spanish while the water flowed. Once the water made it halfway down the field, Billy began to shift from one foot to the other. He looked up at the sun, noting the time of day. He hoped to make it into town before it got dark.

  Finally, the mayordomo looked up from his pocket watch. “Cierra para ariba.”

  Billy followed the instruction and closed the floodgate. He tipped his hat. “Gracias, Señor.”

  The old man nodded and continued down the ditch bank. Billy went the opposite direction, toward the house. He found Hoshi near the back porch, practicing with the sword he called a katana. He held it over his head and made practice thrusts straight down. Billy cleared his throat as he drew near.

  Hoshi pointed his sword at Billy’s abdomen. Then, holding the sword steady, he swung around and looked him in the eye.

  “So, why do you practice with a sword when people have guns?”

  “It is a question of having the right weapon for the right circumstances,” said Hoshi.

  “So, if you’re so smart, when would it be better to have a sword than a gun?”

  Hoshi grinned. “If Mr. Bresnahan had a sword yesterday, and knew how to use it, he might have gotten away from you.”

  “How so?” Billy’s brow furrowed. “I had a gun.”

  “Show me.” Hoshi held the sword with his hands close together, as though they were tied.

  Billy reached for his six-gun. Just as he brought it level with Hoshi, a sharp pain in the back of his hand caused him to drop the gun to the ground. The former samurai had turned the sword and smacked Billy’s hand with the flat of the blade.

  “It would have been easier to have disarmed you by taking the hand off,” said Hoshi, “but you are a good worker and I do not want you maimed.”

  Billy rubbed his hand. “All right. What if I don’t draw my piece till you back away a little?”

  “If I care enough about my freedom, I’d simply kill you with my sword.”

  Billy frowned as he thought. “Thing is, he didn’t have a sword, and even if he did, we’d have made him drop it.”

  Hoshi inclined his head, accepting the statement. “The sword is also about accuracy and control. Being good at the sword makes me better with a pistol and with my hands. You noticed that I disarmed a man with one shot from my pistol.”

  “I like that.” Billy nodded and grinned. Then he stepped back a moment and folded his arms. “Thing is, I thought you gave up bein’ a warrior. Why do you keep practicin’ with the sword?”

  “It keeps me ready for anything I might encounter… like yesterday.”

  “You may have a great poker face, but you’re a bad liar, Hoshi.” Billy leaned against the porch rail. “You’re practicin’ way too hard for someone who just wants to keep himself prepared. You’re more like a soldier gettin’ ready for combat.”

  “I hope that isn’t so.” Hoshi sheathed his katana. “Still, I worry about the Russians.”

  “They’re not so tough.” Billy smiled, remembering the battle of Denver.

  “If that’s true, why can’t your whole army dislodge them from Washington and Alaska?” Hoshi shook his head. “If they have really become so hungry for land, I also wonder what that will mean for Japan.”

  “I thought you left Japan for good.”

  “It is still my homeland and I love it, even if I don’t agree with those who lead the country right now.”

  Billy sighed, thinking about the feud in Lincoln County and how the territorial governor supported Murphy’s monopoly, even though it wasn’t just. “I do believe I understand.” Billy crouched down and retrieved his revolver from the ground. “Do you mind if I run into town?”

  Hoshi stepped forward and examined the field. “I think your work is done today.”

  “Thanks!” Billy started toward the barn, but turned around after a few steps. “Say, tomorrow do you think you could show me a little bit of what you do with that sword?”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  Billy continued toward the barn and saddled his horse. He rode in to Mesilla Park, left his horse at the public corral, then walked to the offices of the Mesilla News, where he knocked on Luther Duncan’s door.

  The reporter appeared a moment later. “Billy, it’s great to see you!” He straightened his bow tie.

  “You seem awfully happy.”

  Duncan led Billy to a chair, then unlocked a drawer and retrieved a wad of bills. He counted a few off the top and passed them to Billy, whose brow furrowed.

  “What’s this for?”

  “Your story about fighting the airships in Denver has been selling to newspapers all across the country. I thought you deserved a share.”

  “Why thank you.” Billy stuffed the bills into his coat pocket. “So, I hear you want me to tell you how we thwarted that robbery yesterday.”

  “You bet I do.” The reporter patted the stack of bills that lay before him on the desk.

  <<>>

  After eating supper and securing rooms for the night, Ramon, Fatemeh, and Sergeant Harris returned to the telegraph office. They found the clerk at the door, fishing the keys from his pocket. He looked up. “Closing up for the night. Come back tomorrow.”

  Fatemeh stepped close. “All we want to know is did we get a response to our telegram from earlier this afternoon?”

  The clerk adjusted his glasses and studied the trio for a moment. “Oh, yeah. You three sent that telegram to the blacksmith in Flagstaff. Sure enough he wired back. Said that Maravilla fella left for Tucson a few days ago.”

  Ramon and Harris looked at each other. “What the devil is he doing all the way down in Tucson?” asked the sergeant. “I was closer to the professor at Fort Bliss!”

  “Did he say when he’d be back?” asked Ramon.

  The clerk threw up his hands, then opened the door and stepped inside. A moment later he returned with the telegram. He thrust it at Fatemeh, then finished locking the door and stalked away.

  “Well, what’s it say?” urged Sergeant Harris.

  Fatemeh shook her head. “Just that the professor and Larissa went to Tucson with a wagonload of supplies.” She folded the paper neatly and placed it in the pouch on her belt.

  “Well, what do we do?” asked Harris. “Go to Flagstaff and wait for him to return, or go to Tucson and find out what he’s up to there?”

  Ramon took off his glasses and examined them for a moment. “I think it would be best if we split up. I can go to Tucson and look for the professor there. You go to Flagstaff in case he’s already on the way back.”

  The sergeant gritted his teeth and looked as though he wanted to argue, but only shrugged. “I can’t think of a better idea. Send me a wire when you get in. We’ll figure out a rendezvous once one of us finds him.”

  “Agreed.” Ramon slipped his glasses back on and looked at Fatemeh. “What about you corazón?”

  “I haven’t been to Albuquerque before. I thought I’d take a walk. Would you care to join me?” She wore a coy smile, infecting him with her sense of adventure.

  Ramon stepped forward and held out his arm. “I’d be delighted.”

  The sergeant cleared his throat. “I think I may pay a visit to the saloon next to the hotel. I’ll see you back at the room in a little while, Mr. Morales
.”

  Ramon watched him trudge off toward the hotel for a moment holding Fatemeh’s hand, wishing he shared a room with her rather than the soldier. A moment later, Ramon and Fatemeh turned and walked the other direction. “You have something else in mind, don’t you, corazón?”

  Fatemeh shook her head. “Nothing specific. It’s just that Albuquerque has a telegraph office and gets a bit more news from distant reaches than Estancia. I thought I might stay a couple days and see what I could learn about the war.”

  “Promise me you won’t do anything rash.”

  “When do my actions ever give you a rash?” She reached up and took Ramon’s shoulder, bringing him close for a kiss.

  <<>>

  Birdcalls sounded as Professor Maravilla and Larissa Crimson rode into the Dragoon Mountains. Their horses drug their feet, tongues lolling with thirst. Larissa tugged on the reins.

  “Why are you stopping?” asked the professor. “We still haven’t found the Apache camp.”

  Larissa’s eyes darted around the rocks. The whistles and chirps continued. “I think they found us. No use wearing out the horses more than they already are.”

  A few minutes later, a horse appeared on the rise ahead of them. As the rider approached, Larissa noticed Baishan’s long braids and strong shoulders. “We have news for Geronimo and we need water for our horses.”

  The young warrior nodded. “Come with me.”

  As they rode, Larissa examined their surroundings. Yellow-gray rocks rose all around them. They were at once dramatic and claustrophobic. “I’ve heard Apache names have meaning,” said Larissa, attempting to break the silence and the tension. “What does Baishan mean?”

  He cast a sidelong glance her direction. “It means ‘knife’ and was also the name of a great Mimbres Apache.”

  The party rode over a rise onto a flat expanse of rock covered with several wickiups—small, temporary shelters of wood and brush. A natural basin in the rock near one edge of the encampment collected runoff from the surrounding mountains. Larissa brought her horse to a stop, climbed down from the seat and unhitched it from the cab. She and the professor led their animals to the watering hole.