Red Star Sheriff

by Timothy Purvis

  GARRET WATCHED THE man closely. He’d been in and out of consciousness for two days. On the third he was actually able to start walking around. It’d been another two days before he was well enough to start consuming more solid foods regularly. Now he sat across from Garret at the kitchen table slowly taking bites of oatmeal mash and drinking juice. The entire time of his recovery, Aidele had been talking about how this man knew them. But he’d been afraid to say anything to her. Because she was right. They did know this man. Many years ago. It was coming back to him now. And in that fear, he’d convinced Aidele to not question him about anything until he was able to consume solids and was able to walk around. It brought Garret a little extra time to approach him when Aidele wasn’t around.

  The man swallowed hard and cautiously looked at him. “So, uhm, was there something you needed from me? I mean, your hospitality has been wonderful. So, the least I can do is thank you. Unless you just really want to continue glaring at me menacingly as you have since I first said ‘hi’.”

  Garret drew a breath and slowly let it out. “You expect pleasantries after your actions? You expect me to chew the fat after you break into our home and assault my granddaughter?” The young man opened his mouth, but was cut off. “Okay. Let’s be sociable. Hi. Welcome to my home. You received a really nasty injury there. In fact, you might always feel some pain as a result. Probably because Aidele tossed an intruder out her window. However, there is more color in your face than before. Still, you are very pale. Either you still are not feeling well or you do not get enough sun.”

  The man grimaced and looked to his lap for a long moment. It took him a short bit to work up the courage to meet his eyes somewhat. “I’m actually feeling much better now thanks to you and your granddaughter.”

  “This pleases me to hear. Are you enjoying our hospitality? I would hate to give a poor first impression.”

  “Uhm, look, there is no good explanation for any of this,” he was sweating now, his brow line moistening considerably. “However, it was necessary.”

  “Is that so?” Garret smiled. “I should like to hear it. I am, after all, looking for answers. And since Aidele is busy in the barn, I feel like now is as good a time as ever to get re-acquainted.”

  “Wh, what do you mean?”

  “No need to feign ignorance. You’re considerably younger than me and have to have a better memory than myself. Mr… Weiss? Durante… Weiss? Yes? Correct me if I’m wrong. It’s been a long while.”

  Durante fidgeted uncomfortably. “You have quite the memory, Mr. Lester. Despite your protests. We only met a few times. Back when…”

  “Back when you apprenticed for Coop. Yes, I remember. And please call be Garret.” He nodded at Durante. “It’s interesting you should be coming here during these times. I’m sure you’re already aware of your former master’s fate? So, let’s not hedge around or I’ll just take you to the sheriff now and let you rot away. I won’t lose one night’s sleep over it, either. First off, how did you find this journal? Such a very specific book when Cooper had many. And the only one hidden in a secret compartment.” Garret placed Cooper’s journal on the tabletop before him for emphasis.

  Durante hesitated, then leaned forward. “There’s… a tracker in the back cover. Can only be picked up when in close vicinity. Say, about five hundred feet or so.”

  Garret turned to the back cover and Durante pointed to a spot near the top corner. He ran his hand over the surface and was able to peel the corner back. Within was a shallow cavity where a small chip rested. Garret removed it and stood up to walk over to the counter near the stove. Pulling out a hammer from the third drawer down, he brought the tool down onto the chip. It took hardly any time at all to smash it to pieces. A loud clunk echoed as Garret dropped the hammer to the countertop and returned to the table to retake his seat with a heavy creak. His hands clasped before him once more.

  “There. Now it can no longer be tracked.” He watched Durante lick his lips and turn away. “With that business hammered out, tell me, what is it about this journal that draws you here? You don’t strike me as a thief, so someone must have sent you. Before you begin your tale, know that none of this is to be shared with Aidele. Even when she asks, and she will ask, keep it a secret between you and I. Do you understand?”

  Durante nodded. “And what should I say?”

  “Whatever you find reasonable. Perhaps that you were hired to retrieve it. That they knew about the tracker. It’s true, I’m sure. So, you don’t have to lie. But leave out what this is truly about. Feign ignorance as you would to me.”

  Durante cleared his throat. “Alright. But are you sure she won’t come in and catch us in this plot?”

  “I’ll hear the door.” Garret made an impatient gesture with his hand to get on with the tale.

  MESMERIZE RACED ACROSS the Marset pen frolicking with other members of his kind while Aidele was hard at work cleaning up his shelter. It was still early in the morning but the day was already blazing hot. The morning chores were almost complete and she was eager to get back inside the house. That man was showing strong signs of improvement and was now walking around. Regardless of what Grandfather asked, it was time for him to tell her who he was. The fact that he’d been after her father’s journal gnawed at her. She’d yet to crack it open, and was afraid to do so. Afraid that, if she did, it would change everything in her life. She was hoping that the man inside would just be able to give her the highlights without her having to read her father’s words herself.

  Aidele walked to the edge of the shelter. Even being in the shade, it was hot. She pulled off her straw hat and leather gloves watching Mesmerize run around the pen flicking his tail. She smiled and wiped sweat off her brow with the back of her hand. Her smile faded as a nagging sensation settled into her heart.

  Grandfather… She had no idea why she thought about him but there was this feeling that he was up to something. She replaced her hat and hurried out of the shelter, through the pen gate, and towards the house. She hurried through the front door and stopped. In the living room, she saw Grandfather and the man speaking quietly. Grandfather was in his easy chair while the man was on the couch across from him. They both went silent upon seeing her.

  “Aidele! Good morning!” Grandfather waved. “Look who is awake. I would like you to meet Durante… Weiss, was it?”

  “Uh… yeah. But you can just call me Durante.”

  Aidele flopped her gloves against her hands once, then placed them on a nearby table. “Nice ta see yer finally well enough fer conversation. Durante you say? Pleased ta meet ya, sugah.”

  Durante watched as she walked behind the couch and craned his neck to follow her progress. “I imagine you have some questions for me. Your Grandfather was just prodding me a little. But, as I’ve told him, I can’t divulge much. As I… don’t know. I was hired to acquire it. That’s all I know.”

  “Is that so?” She smiled and looked from him to Grandfather. “So, yer tellin’ me ya don’ know what’s in the book? Or why ya were… sent fer it?”

  Durante shook his head. “I’m sorry. I… don’t have the answers you’re looking for.”

  Aidele looked to Grandfather and he leaned back into his easy chair, shaking his head with a frown. “I was just telling him if there is nothing he can tell us, then there is no choice but for me to take him to the sheriff.”

  “Hmm,” she crossed her arms. “Ah s’pose that’s something we’ll jus’ hafta do, then. Ah’ll go pack his things an’ we’ll take him inta town.”

  She was turning to go when Grandfather said, “No, no. You’ve dealt with enough already. If you’d like to gather his clothing and gear, I will take this thief to town myself.” Grandfather looked to Durante. “You can just keep Cooper’s clothing we provided you. It is too sullied to remain in this house.”

  Aidele quirked a brow as she looked to a perplexed Durante. “That’s alright,” she said, “ah don’ really have any questions to ask after all, ah guess.”

>   She flashed a smile at Grandfather and left the room. Undoubtedly, they were staring after her in bewilderment. She headed back to her bedroom where Durante had been laid up for the last week. She’d taken to sleeping in her father’s room and it had been her idea to see if any of his old clothes would fit the man, whom she now knew was Durante Weiss.

  Good ta have a name. An’ good thing those clothes fit. Would’ve hated ta have him runnin’ ‘round in bloody clothing.

  She grabbed a travel bag from her closet and shoved his clothes into it. Then picked up the head gear he’d been wearing. It folded up into a smallish earmuff and had a flat run of plastic that connected across the forehead and wrapped behind the ears when unfolded. Unfolding it now, she put it on and fiddled with some of the settings for the fifth time since he’d come to the house. Broke into the house… A green overlay came into existence. The last time she’d discovered the setting, there’d been a blinking purple light overlaying her father’s journal and she’d known then that’s how he’d found it. She’d retraced his steps, or at least to where she’d discovered he must have come from, to an open window in the den. There she’d discovered the light had increased in size and become a yellow orange. And still it showed her the general direction of where the journal was. It couldn’t see through walls or indicate heat signatures, but it definitely had night vision. And that solves that mystery, folks.

  But now, there was no beacon. She knitted her brows, disengaged the device, and folded it back up, then shoved it into the bag too. She strapped it shut and made her way back to the living room where the two men sat speaking in hushed tones. She took in a breath, let it out, forced a smile, then walked into the room. She crossed over to Durante and handed him the bag.

  “Here ya go. Try not ta enjoy the jailer’s hospitality too much. Shore ya won’ be up fer too long. Law don’ give too many shits ‘bout much in these parts.”

  Durante took the bag with a confused look. “Oh. Well, thank you. Really. You didn’t have to be so kind to me.”

  “Think nothun’ o’it, Mr. Weiss. As yer mah guest, it’s mah responsibility ta attend ta yer needs. Ta be anything less than respectful would be,” she looked to Grandfather, “duplicitous. Ah’m gonna head out ta the barn while ya take him ta town. Got somethin’ ah fergot ‘bout ta take care of.”

  Aidele exited the house, crossed the yard, and headed inside the barn. There, she found Mesmerize’s saddle and reins and took them to the barn doorway to lay on the ground.

  And waited.

  She leaned against the door frame. After a few minutes, Durante and Grandfather left the house and made their way to the drive beside the house. Grandfather got into the driver’s seat while Durante got into the passenger’s side.

  The buggy backed up and turned towards Chesik Trail and sped away. Aidele watched until they were out of sight, her eyebrow quirked.

  Ah don’ know what the game is, Grandfather, but ah know a lie when ah hear one. Even a lie masked by the truth. She picked up the saddle and reins and whistled for Mesmerize.

  THE BUGGY BOUNCED rattling Durante in his seat. They were now past the edge of the property proper and heading around the bend. There had been something that passed between Mr. Lester and Ms. Wilson, he was certain of that. The whole interaction sent a queasy sensation into his gut. It was that ‘you’re-in-big-trouble-mister’ kind of feeling and he didn’t like it. Though, he supposed he deserved the trouble he was in, really. Still, the thing between them was his fault, he knew.

  He sighed and turned towards Mr. Lester. “Well, that was easy. A little disconcerting, but easy. Think maybe she didn’t really have any questions? Or do you think she believed what I told her?”

  Mr. Lester was silent for a moment and then shrugged, his wizened features taking on a nearly cavalier stare to the fore of the vehicle. “It’s impossible to say. That she let it go so easily is curious. However, it’s no longer a problem to be concerned with. Right now, my task is to get you to Chesik Villa. If the things you’ve told me are true, and I have no reason to think that they aren’t, then you must get this journal to General Berricks. He is a man who makes good on his threats. And this family has suffered too much already.”

  “You sound as if you know Mr. Berricks?”

  “It isn’t relevant. When I drop you off, you’ll hurry to give that to him. I hate to see it go, but the alternatives are far worse.”

  “If you think that’s for the best. I don’t need to go to Chesik, though. Around the next bend, you can drop me off. I have a buggy hidden a few dunes from here. Hid it from sight in a narrow cavity.”

  Mr. Lester nodded. “As you wish. I still need to head to Chesik regardless. To return too soon would be to make Aidele more suspicious than she already is.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You can thank me by ending this before that miserable son-of-a-whore makes good on his promise.”

  “I will.”

  Mr. Lester slowed down at the bend and pulled over to where Durante pointed. Durante got out and walked around to the driver’s seat. Mr. Lester pulled the journal out of his thin jacket’s inner pocket and handed it over. There was a hint of anger tinged with fear in Mr. Lester’s eyes.

  “Hopefully with this, Berricks will return to his master and leave us all alone. I’ve already fought my war. I have no intention of fighting another.” A forlorn look glittered in his eyes. “I will not risk leaving Aidele all alone.”

  “I understand. I’ll make haste.”

  Durante nodded and stepped back while Mr. Lester looked forward and drove away, dust following the fleeting vehicle.

  Durante turned and walked down a row between two dunes heading in the direction of his buggy. The journal was in his possession now and everything would be alright. At least, he hoped. He’d been granted two days and now it was nearly two weeks. He has to accept it! Has to! I mean, better late than never, right?

  He continued onward, feet sliding on stone and kicking up a few clumps of desert weed. Guilt was rising in his chest. I’m sorry, professor. I didn’t want to tell a half-truth to your daughter. But there really was no choice. And maybe things worked out better this way anyhow. I hope. Come on, Durante, move your ass. I can be back at the depot before evening if I hurry.

  He pushed his pace faster taking only fifteen minutes to return to where he’d left his buggy. However, once he arrived, he found he could only sigh. The buggy was gone. In its place were fading tracks leading up and over the dune. Leading towards the ranch.

  “Shit.”

  CHAPTER FOUR: GUNNIN’ FER TROUBLE

  SAM BERRICKS GLARED at the glass of sour mash before him. It tasted like swill. Which was appropriate given how much was going to shit. His wrinkled, yet still firm, hand twirled the glass slowly in place on the tabletop. The dirty, shit brown liquid swirled inside like a micro whirlpool as his ire grew deeper.

  Even the gawddamned whiskey is a fucking disgrace. He picked up the glass and chugged its contents in one gulp. He grimaced and slammed the glass down. It didn’t break but the echo was astoundingly loud. The barkeep heard and looked up, then rushed over with a bottle containing more of the hateful stuff. Sam frowned.

  “Did you need another, Mr. Berricks?”

  Sam didn’t look up. “Yup.”

  The barkeep refilled the glass and turned to leave.

  “Jus’ leave the gawddamned bottle.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He did as commanded and hurried back to the safety of the bar. Sam took another swig and stared out the front doorway with its swinging half-doors and twitched his lips. His grey mustache waggled making him look like an angry walrus. Wavy grey hair fell to his neck, the top of his head covered by an off-white hat. His similarly colored duster cascaded off his chair and onto the floor. Sam leaned back, his wizened features sporting a deep scowl. Bushy brows knitted together in irritation.

  Lousy scum sucker’s probably all the way out in Aquila Mons by now lookin’ to cut a deal with those
red-skinned huuks. Sam took another swig and felt his glower grow. I should be gettin’ my job done. Not cavortin’ across the Wastelands with a bunch of savages.

  Retiring to his Georgia plantation was looking better by the day. He was pushing seventy and feeling every year of it in his bones. That of course didn’t mean he was growing incapable, far from it. Having spent the last forty years in service to the Union, he knew how to get the job done. He had a mission and he was going to finish it. One way or another.

  One last mission for the Union… and for Caitlyn. He raised his freshly filled glass and sucked down its wretched contents. Ah. Discordia never tasted more appropriately shitty.

  The din of horse clomps drew his attention to the doors. Sam set his glass down and listened as riders dismounted, boots hitting dirt hard.

  “Nah. Ya’ll wait out here. Ain’ nothin’ ah kent handle,” a woman’s voice, thick with authority, spoke.

  “Ya shore ‘bout that?” a man’s voice, raspy and full of grit, returned.

  “Doubt we got called all the way out here jus’ ta git gunned down on the deck,” she replied.

  Heavy bootsteps walked up the deck and across to the twin batwing doors. Sam’s man there reached up to push them open. Despite the roof overhang, her silhouette was dark against the bright light. He leaned to his right to get a better look.

  The tavern wasn’t very big, more benzinery than saloon. Just a dirty watering hole in the middle of nowhere which made it the perfect place for his operations. It had two stories with a very simple layout. Essentially two bricks at a right angle to one another. Where the inner corner met, the walls were cut down to an angle. This was where the front doors were. A deck outside ran from three quarters of the way of one wall to three quarters the way down the other. The upstairs was accessed by a short ‘L’ shaped stairwell in the back corner rising up above the bar. Upstairs contained four rooms that could be rented and a parlor for resting your heels after a long day of getting into trouble. The main tavern itself had only six tables, four downstairs, and two on the upper balcony running the back length of the place. Beyond the bar, was storage and a gambling den.