“Dontchu guilt me!” She pushed off the rail and glared into his eyes.
“Ah was jus’ sayin’. Eventually, all yer chickens come home ta roost.” Asta scoffed and turned to look at the general store across the street. He frowned and cleared his throat. “Ah was thinkin’, this journal we’re s’posed ta retrieve… it must’ve been Cooper’s. Ev’rone ah speak ta says Weiss was here lookin’ fer Wilson’s in-town haunt. An’ there’s heavy scuttlebutt ‘bout Aidele puttin’ down Kern Michaels—”
“Who?”
“Ah assume ya mean Aidele cuz ya hafta know Michaels.” He saw her twirl her finger to continue. “Aidele’s their daughter, Asta. Ah don’ know ah ever heard her name bafer five years ago an’ ya kent tell me ya done fergot it. She came after ya hard’n fast.”
Asta leaned forward on the railing again, her mouth pursed. “Ah don’ like where this’s goin’, Drevan. Yer next words better not be what ah know they gonna be.”
“Maybe ya don’ like it’n that’s fair. However, if’n all we learnt is pointing in one direction, then there’s only one other place Weiss coulda gone if he couldn’t track down Wilson’s workshop in town. If he even had one, that is. There’s some debate on that.”
Asta stood and whirled to him. “Ah kent go back ta that ranch! Not after all ah don’ did ta that family!”
“Welp, then ya got yerself a decision ta make. Ya ken raise Wilson’s ire by checkin’ ta see if’n she ran across our boy or,” Asta waved her hand through the air turning away but he persisted, “or, ya ken call off the mark and tell ole General Berricks ta shove it. Ah think ya know mah thoughts on the matter. Both have bullets wit’ yer name on ‘em, o’course. But ah’m wit’ ya regardless.”
“Shoulda jus’ stayed home. Gone after Sellars like we was gonna.”
Drevan chuckled. “The general offered up a lot o’money. Look at it this way, if’n we go ta the ranch, maybe we’ll jus’ happen across Weiss on his way back.”
“An’ what d’ya think the chances o’that are?” He held up his thumb and index finger with just about half an inch of space between them. She grumbled. “Round up the boys. We’re ridin’. Let’s hope we’re as lucky as a charm.”
He nodded and turned to walk off the deck. A loud crash came from the shop behind her and she rolled her eyes. She went to open the door back up and saw her two men rummaging through shelves, Clyde still out cold.
“Ya two knock it off’n git out here. We’re mountin’ up.”
One of the two young men lifted a sad, dilapidated set of spurs that didn’t look fit for wearing. “How in the hell does this man stay in business?”
“Tyler, how’n the hell am ah s’posed ta know? Drop it’n git yer asses out here!”
She let the door shut behind her and stepped back outside.
Tyler looked to his colleague. “This’s gotta be the worst blacksmith ah’ve ever seen.”
“No shit.”
GAWDDAMAN! WHY WOULD anyone want ta live out in the middle of all this desolation? Asta thought as the day wore on. They were approaching the southwest corridor that connected the Sutures to the Spine. It was nothing but tattered terrain and the barest of vegetation from there on out. She had done her best to stay out of this particular region of the Sutures for the last five years. Ever since that fateful day with her best friend who was as close as a sister.
Mirra… she reflected sourly. There wasn’t much more to do than think. Drevan rode beside her looking straight ahead, lost in his own thoughts. Behind them, their six-man crew were either munching on jerky or talking quietly about various subjects that included the best places to hunt and fish, and who was good looking enough to land that filly in Brighton. Ah never did know all that much ‘bout ya, did ah, Mirra? Why wouldn’t ya tell me? Why? We rode together fer like twenty years’n ya couldn’t tell me ‘bout marryin’n havin’ a kid? Hell, ah even brought ya back ta the plantation ta meet my own kidlets! What were you afraid of?
The sun was roasting hot, the only shade their Grey Lances. The gentle clump of their horses’ hooves was like a seismic thump. Far in the distance, the edge of the Spine rose like a gray ghost. A dirt devil twirled along thousands of feet away heading off to some unseen destination. And remarkably a few desert warblers were singing and flitting about without a care in the world.
Yet in Asta’s mind was a whirlwind of confusion, and a reopened old wound. Time ceased to exist as she thought back, ruminated over buried memories. Things she hadn’t thought about in years.
ASTA WAS ONLY in her early thirties when she’d first met Mirra Lester, a young Chuhukon woman with jet black hair usually braided up into a bun at the back of her head. She had brown eyes, a stunning smile, and stood only five-foot-nine. Despite her appearance, she’d been tough as nails, yet gentle as a nursing mother. And her laughter was contagious. However, she hadn’t been joking around that day deep in the Deltas region of the Wastelands.
A man by the name of Phoenix Fenton had been hiding out in one of the shanty towns lining the Orson River. According to Asta’s client, he’d murdered a member of a dignitary’s family and they wanted him brought back for trial. Apparently, since the Wastelands were an independent territory (all of the territories were considered independent really) the Chuhukon Council made the decision to not send someone after him and left it up to the local authorities to deal with. The family was understandably displeased. So Asta and her crew had been brought in to hunt him down, courtesy of a young man by the name of Colin Jackson. Though he insisted on just being called ‘Jacks’. At the time, it’d really just been her and Drevan. Putting together a hunting crew was tiring but it never took too long. This time, though, they had Jacks’ helpful suggestion of two sharpshooters he knew. Together, they’d cornered Fenton in the shanty town of Ripple Run, which was flushed up against a series of rocky hills at the head of an offshoot of the Orson River.
They’d already put down half of Fenton’s gang when a young Chuhukon woman had leapt down from a jumble of shanty roofs and grabbed Fenton. Several of his gang saw this and made to move on her, but she kept Fenton between her and them and put those men down before they could get a clean shot on her.
Drevan looked to Asta with that look of his that said, ‘What do we do’ when faced with a rival hunter. His face was smooth, free of that future scar that would make him look meaner than he was.
“Move in! Put ‘em down!”
She and her crew came out of cover to fire on the gang that was now in a two-way fight between the newly arrived hunter and Asta’s band. It didn’t take long before it was just Asta, Drevan, their three-man crew, and the woman with Fenton.
They all stood there, guns pointed at one another. Asta stepped forward indicating to her crew to stand down.
“Hello there, hunter. There seems ta be some confusion. We were hired ta bring that man in. Preferably alive.”
“Not lookin’ to fight another hunter. Just stand back so I can take this man in to face justice,” the Chuhukon said.
“This man’s a murderer,” Asta replied lowering her weapon. The woman did the same, but slowly, still behind Fenton. “T’weren’t no authority lookin’ fer him ‘fer we got hired.”
The Chuhukon pulled out a pair of cuffs and shackled Fenton. “I wasn’t hired. Word came down he was workin’ outta the Deltas. There’re crimes he must stand trial for.”
She walked him towards a horse tied up beyond a shanty building. Asta knitted her brow and followed. Drevan guided their justifiably annoyed crew back to the horses where they mounted up as the Chuhukon woman got Fenton up on her own horse.
Drevan came up beside Asta and she mounted up as well trying to figure out the best tact to deal with the woman.
“Let’s just put ‘em both down and collect the bounty,” Jacks scowled.
Asta shot him a look. “First off, the bounty is fer alive not dead. Second off, we don’ fire on our own.”
“She ain’ one o’our own!” Jacks fired back.
“Few �
��nuff lawmen out in these parts as is, yung’un. We ain’ gonna go shootin’ fellow hunters without just cause.”
“She’s stealin’ our mark!”
“Ya jus’ let me deal with it, kid.”
Asta pushed forward to catch up with the woman who was already a good way ahead. Jacks gave a pained gasp as Drevan rode after her. The other two men looked to Jacks uncertainly. Asta kept a short distance, only offered up a friendly conversation.
“Ya put down Fenton’s men pretty handily there. Ah’m impressed by yer prowess.” Asta rode closer. “Din’t catch yer name, stranger.”
“Didn’t offer it.” Her eyes watched Asta closely, hands gripping her reins tighter. If she wasn’t careful, that young Chuhukon would dart off, and the way Jacks was acting she wasn’t so certain she could stop him from giving chase.
Asta shook her head. “Fair ‘nuff, ah s’pose. However, ah would counter we’re all on the same side here.”
“Funny, the way your man’s talkin’, it would seem like murderin’s in the future.” The woman cast a casual smirk. “I’m more for… lawful incarceration. I only put those down standing in the way of the law.”
“Like Fenton’s gang?”
Fenton scoffed as the woman sighed. “They made it clear they weren’t comin’ in peaceably. Besides, I’m just one woman. No room on my horse for all of ‘em.”
“Are ya a sheriff?”
“…Not in the way you mean.”
Asta smiled brightly. “You’n ah are definitely on the same side. We do the jobs the ‘authorities’ either kent or won’ do. They bring us in, set us loose.” The woman still looked like she might bolt but was loosening up her guard to a degree. “Ah’m Asta Lynch. The cagey lookin’ one over there, Drevan Polk. Yung’un behind him we call Jacks. An’ the others Wicks’n Sackman.”
The Chuhukon glanced cautiously at her. “…Mirra Lester.”
Jacks scowled a sigh and leaned deeper into his saddle. The prisoner seemed less than thrilled as well and looked over his shoulder.
“An’ ah’m Phoenix Fuckin’ Fenton, pleased ta meet ya’ll. Now, if’n ya don’ mind, ya ken jus’ drop me off right over yonder’n ah’ll be on mah way leavin’ ya lovely ladies ta have a little tea party ta yer hearts’ content.”
“You just hold your tongue,” Mirra said. “You’re not part of this conversation.”
“No, but need ah remind ya that this lot jus’ wanted mah head? An’ they ain’ followin’ us fer no ice cream social!”
Mirra frowned as Asta gave a cockeyed grin. “Well, Mirra, kent rightly argue with the man’s logic there. However, those who hired us want him alive and the bounty is right purty. Course, now that our good pal Fenton has brought it up, ah’m sure bringin’ his head back might prove jus’ as acceptable.”
“Uh huh.” Fenton growled.
Mirra scoffed. “Don’t sound very Just to me.”
Asta saw Mirra repositioning in the saddle, her posture now weighing her chances on an outright run. Nervousness clawed its way up Asta’s gut.
“Lookit where we roam, Ms. Lester. Ain’ nothin’ but wilds’n wastes. Authority don’ want nothin’ ta do with us. Only justice out here is the justice we make.”
Mirra cocked an eyebrow. “Rather cynical outlook on life, don’t you think?”
“It keeps me alive, darlin’.”
Jacks snarled and drew his gun as he pulled his horse around to cut them off. Wicks and Sackman repeated the motion but towards Drevan instead. He couldn’t react fast enough as they pointed their revolvers at him. Mirra and Asta were forced to draw up cold to face Jacks in front of them holding his own iron towards Asta.
Asta growled, “Jacks, what in blue blazes are ya doin!?”
“Ah’ve had ‘nuff o’all this gabbin’! Hand over Fenton’n we’ll part ways!” Jacks pointed his gun at Mirra. “There don’ hafta be no bloodshed.”
Fenton cast a glare at him. “Don’ ya all think ta hand me over ta this outlaw! Ah’m good as dead if’n—”
Jacks cocked his piece and held it towards Fenton’s head. “Shut yer piehole fer ah blow yer face off here’n now!”
Asta started forward a step and he retrained his sights on her. “We done tried it yer way, Lynch. An’ all we been seein’ is soft. Toss yer pieces over yonder.”
Asta scowled as he indicated some brush a few feet away. Both she and Drevan reluctantly complied. Jacks retrained on Mirra.
“You too.”
Mirra stared at him for a long moment, their eyes meeting in a match of resolve. In the end, she ended up complying.
“Wicks, Sackman, relieve Ms. Lester of her burden.”
“Sure thing, boss,” Wicks said with a grin.
Mirra glanced at some woods nearby then twisted her mount around and bolted as fast as she could push her horse. Jacks was slow to react and she made a good twenty feet before he pulled himself together.
“Damnit!” he cried out. “After her!”
Asta made to move but Jacks turned his gun on her horse shooting it in the head. She fell to the ground as Jacks took off. Drevan dismounted and rushed to her side as the three men tore off after Mirra.
“Sumabitch shot mah horse!” she howled.
“Knew that little shit was no good.”
She clapped his shoulder as he helped her to her feet. “Come on! You rein’n ah’ll shoot!”
They grabbed their revolvers and mounted up on the remaining horse. They rode as hard as they could and soon heard gunfire and screaming. As they arrived, they found Mirra behind her dead horse and Fenton’s body being thrust over the top of Wick’s mount. The other two were laying down suppressing fire keeping Mirra pinned low on the ground, but they weren’t aiming at her exactly.
Asta opened fire as Drevan pushed faster and drew his own pistol.
“We got what we came fer!” Jacks called out and the three rode off.
Drevan brought their mount to a stop and they dismounted. Asta rushed over to Mirra and found her shot in the arm and right leg. Mirra held her hand to her left shoulder and was leaning against her mount’s belly.
“Grab some wraps!” Asta motioned to Drevan and knelt beside Mirra. “Let’s see how bad it is.”
“Probably not as bad as it feels,” Mirra grumbled, sweat already beading her brow.
Asta helped her get her coat off and examined the shoulder. Mirra grimaced.
“Clean through. Good. Should be easy ‘nuff ta sew up. How’s the leg feel?”
“Like I’ve been shot.”
Asta laughed as Drevan returned. She made sure to wrap both wounds tightly, electing to wrap the leg wound up around the woman’s jeans rather than just yanking her pants off.
“We ken git ya ta an inn’n find a doc ta git this properly cared fer.”
“Don’t want to go chasing after your boys?”
Asta growled. “Ain’ mah boys. Got a rule: you betray me’n yer jus’ a two-bit scum guzzler. ‘Sides, bastards shot our horses.”
“Guess we’re gonna… have to do something… about that…” Mirra stammered and fainted.
Asta felt her twitch into her arms and looked to Drevan. “She needs a doctor.” Drevan stooped down to sweep Mirra into his arms. “Git her to… what’s closest?”
“Hersine’s seven miles east.” Drevan replied. “But, ah ain’ leavin’ ya out here by yerself.”
“Yes, ya are. Ya’ll ride much faster wit’out me,” Asta approached their lone horse. “Ya ken come back’n fetch me in the mornin’.”
Drevan frowned watching Asta pull a saddlebag from the horse and said, “Ah don’ like the idea o’ya out here all by yerself all night.”
Asta smiled. “Ah’m a big girl and ken take care o’mahself.”
“That’s not what ah’m sayin’,” Drevan argued mounting up as Asta helped him pull Mirra into his lap. “Ah don’ like ya not havin’ any backup if’n those traitors come back!”
“Ah seriously doubt those hired guns are comin’ back. Even if�
�n they do, they’ll like regret it. Now, git goin’!” She slapped the horse’s haunches and it started forward with a whinny.
Drevan frowned gripping the reins tighter. “Ah’ll be back first thing in the mornin’!”
Drevan rode off and Asta turned to walk towards Mirra’s horse. She removed the woman’s belongings and brought them over towards a tree across the way. She was sure sometime during the night the carcass would start drawing unwanted attention.
Only a matter o’time fer some damn mangers show up. Best sleep with one eye open. She found a spot among a heap of stones at the base of some trees and tossed down Mirra’s supplies, then her own bag and went to work building a campsite and fire. Looking up to the sky, she saw shimmering light roiling from blue to an orange red and let loose a sigh. It has been a while since ah’ve camped under the stars. Maybe this will be good fer the old bones. She sat back and tossed the sack behind her. Laying against it she crossed her arms across her chest and stared at the roaring fire she’d started. The flames danced brightly and sent warm air flowing across her body. Before she knew it, she’d fallen into a deep sleep.
THEY WOULD WATCH over Mirra for the next several weeks getting to know one another more personally. Asta took an immediate liking to the woman while Drevan had been friendly but didn’t pry too much into her personal life. Then one day Mirra up and took off leaving only a note with the tending medic thanking them all for the time and attention but that she had other matters to attend to. Asta was disappointed but not angry. It wouldn’t be for another three months before they saw her again. In their lives just as quickly as she’d left before. And Asta couldn’t be mad at her.
Drevan came to a stop beside her, the horses beneath them neighing. They were at the summit of a grassy knoll as Mirra came riding towards them from across a meadow. They all waved to one another prompting a smile from Asta.
“Well, if’n it ain’ our mysterious mark stealer! Ah see you’ve healed up nicely.”
Mirra laughed as she rode up beside them. “Asta, it’s good to see you again. Still runnin’ down outlaws?”
“Ya know it, sister,” Asta replied. “What brings ya out these ways? Hope yer not after our mark ag’in.”
Red Star Sheriff Page 12