by Tempe O'Kun
We skedaddle in.
I slam the door after us. The stink of manure hangs thick. The only ponies here are hitched to a wagon in a team of four. They dance, finicky at the loud noise. Can’t say I blame ‘em.
The guns tug left. I swivel an ear and hear Hayes’ men charging down the hall. I jam my bowie knife in the hinge.
Some fool slams into the door, then bounces off. I laugh, holstering for a breath.
The sheriff pants. “Can we outrun them?”
“Not the both of us.” I push him against the wagon.
His ears pop up, all ungrateful. “I’m not leaving you here!”
“Hell you ain’t.” I shove him. He spills backwards into the wagon in a mess of ruffles and lace. I swipe the cuffs out of his pocket and fix his leg to the rail.
He swims through the fabric, hollering: “Damn you, Six!” Don’t know how the lawbat expects Charlotte to lend him fine dresses if he musses them up so.
I rip James’s pin from my vest and shove it down Blake’s bodice. “Sorry, lawbat, but it’s better this way.” I kick open the stable doors, draw, and fire into the ceiling. One! Two! Three! The ponies scream and scramble, galloping off into the black. Dodging Blake’s free hind paw, I hop outta the wagon’s path, landing on the hard-packed dirt. The lawbat hollers after me over the pounding of hooves on dirt and shouting from back around the corner. The wagon thunders out into the street. Now, just gotta distract them long enough for Blake to get away.
I draw.
Guns pull left.
The first fool to turn the corner gets a bullet in the arm. He cringes back, clutching it and howling.
Guns pull right.
I take out the rat climbing in through the loft window.
Three shots left. Gotta buy some time.
I grab a lantern off the wall, smashing it against a beam. I draw out those fancy matches I lifted off Doc, striking one and throwing it onto the oil and straw. The whole mess goes up in a pleasing roar.
Manure chokes the flames into billows of smoke. Just what I need. I put the thick of it between me and the door.
I holster one, kicking the spent shells from the other. One! Two! Three! Four! My fingers dance across my gunbelt, flipping fresh bullets into the chambers.
Shots ring out.
I duck behind a beam, letting the varmints empty their iron. Smoke’s thick now. Nobody can see. I try not to breathe.
I spin around, letting the guns aim. Gotta be at least a few at the door. Two screams answer that well and true.
A noise above me. Gun yanks upward. All I do is pull the trigger. More hollering.
I catch a fit of coughing. I need to get a way out of this smoke or Hayes’ men won’t have to shoot me.
I scamper across the breadth of the stable, ignoring the lead splintering timbers around me. One good bounce and I’m up in the loft, running. Sure enough, I trip over the fella who tried getting the drop on me. I crash atop him.
Air’s not much cleaner up here and light from the fire downstairs warns me of the hay-chutes, casting a eerie glow, but the moon hangs in an open window, offering escape. I dash through the loose hay, loading my other gun on the way. Gonna want full cylinders when I make my leap. I eject the spent rounds. One! Two! Three—
A screech like all the Earth’s hatred fills the loft.
I turn to see a fat boar with a nail through his boot. I spin my near-empty gun around, grip the barrel, and swing to brain him.
He roars at me, causing me to hit his snout instead. Doesn’t seem to care for that. Goes for his pistol.
I uppercut him with a Colt pommel.
His fangs clatter together as his head snaps back. Stunned, he pulls free of the nail and staggers backward. His beady eyes focus on me as squeals with fury. He’s mighty close to the window, so I help him out with a boot to the chest.
Piggy goes tumbling end over fat end, shattering a wooden trough as he lands.
I pause for the briefest of breaths to reload. Three more bullets make the trip from belt to paw to gun. Below, folks scatter every which way, including that fat marmot dragging an awful familiar bunny behind him. No time to worry on small fry just now.
I catch a glut of cussing behind me. Seems the Hayes goons have found me.
I get a hop on and take the leap.
The air outside is crisp and clear, the moon casting a pale light. Crosses my mind this must be what Blake feels whenever he flies. I see why he doesn’t resent having wings in place of hands.
My boots bounce off the boar’s belly, driving a grunt from his witless body. I scramble on through the mud and dust. Feeling boss as a brass button and fine as cream gravy, I cackle like a hare gone feral. I’m just too quick for these fellas, in all sorts of ways. I turn a corner.
A board wallops me in the gut.
I double over, looking up to see that damn panther again. We have ourselves a little moment. Then he swings the plank around and cracks me in the temple. A sick, heavy thump echoes through my skull.
The world falls to black.
Funny how the world loops around.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Fields surround me. Green, growing life stretching on in all directions. Green in the desert is always a grayish, dull affair; color this vivid hurts my eyes. At least, it ought to. Not overly sure I’m seeing with ‘em presently.
I feel a gentle paw on my shoulder. My father’s scent washes over me: warm, powerful, rich in the only way Daddy ever was. I spin on a boot heel and grab ahold a’ him.
“Whoa! Easy there, Cottonpuff.” He strokes my head fur in fond acceptance. “Yer clingin’ on me like a cocklebur gone lonesome.”
I can’t help but laugh against his chest. He’s warm and real. I can feel his chest rise and fall, feel his fur brushing the inside of his vest. “Daddy…”
“Yeah, honey bun, it’s me. What’re you doin’ here?” He brushes one of my ears all gentle-like, same way he did when I was little, looking on what must be a dandy of a bruise where the board hit. “Look like week-old hell, too. Not that I ain’t grateful seein’ ya again.”
I blink back tears, trailing my fingers down the brown fur of his arm. “This ain’t by my plannin’.”
“Ah. I see.” He chuckles, kicking the toe of his boot into the soft black soil. “So you’re leavin’ about the same?”
I nod. “Well, that assumes I ain’t dead….”
“You ain’t.” He squeezes me a touch tighter. “How’s that bat been treatin’ ya?” He looks me in the eyes. “You haven’t gone an’ shot him again, have ya?”
“No!”
“Well, that’s right decent of you. Ah was with your mother near on twenty years without feelin’ need to shoot her.” He smiles, showing me his buck teeth.
The world presses in on my mind. I look around, seeing in the shadows a great shaft down into the earth, lit at one end only. “Daddy! I think… I think I’m still in Hayes’ mine. I can’t stay with you.”
“Hayes? Could have sworn I shot him…” His gaze slips to the distance for a slim moment, then he grips my shoulder. “As for stayin’ with me, see ya don’t chase echoes when you ought to be after real folk. Okay, ‘Puff? Never seen it end well.”
“Yes, Daddy.” I straighten up, looking him right in the eyes. Just when did I get as tall as him? “I need some things explained.”
He twitches his nose at me, like he’s of a teasing mood. “That is what daddies are for.”
“Straightforward and simple-like. None a’ this ghost-riddle business.”
“Contrary to what you may’ve heard, we don’t get our giggles hassling the livin’. It’s just…” He ponders on this for a breath, or would if he were really breathing. “Just that the world makes less sense the longer you leave it. But I’ll do my darnest not to talk bunkum to ya, square?”
“Square.” I feel my guts get tugged toward the real world. I don’t have an excess of time. “How do you tie in to this business with the mine?”
“The min
e, the mine… Lemme see…” His claws scritch the back of his neck, like they always did in moments of hard reckoning. “Back durin’ my stint with the Interior Department, this old bloodhound tracked me down. Said he represented a tribe a’ ‘yotes whose land was being mined without their say-so. Nothin’ new under the sun, ah think, though that changed in a hurry once I poked around the place. Ah’d hid TNT to bring down the whole mine. Likely it’s still there in the supports to this day.”
“Hayes? It was his mine?” I look around, but catch only glimpses of railings and supports in the corners of my eyes, the rest looking for all the world like a green paradise. “I’m in it right now! He caught me.”
“Funny how the world loops around.” He nods, then raises a questioning ear. “This is some Hayes other than the one I put in the ground?”
“His nephew.”
“That’s reassurin’.” His fingers trace the brim of his hat. “Like I said, world starts getting funny on a body once time stops the hops.”
I reach for my guns, but find only air. The dank, earthy scent of the mine hangs thick around my nose. “Might not be too long before I join ya.”
“Ah, see ‘Puff, there’s a world a’ wonder in ‘might.’ So long as your mights don’t change to gonnas, you got life by the ears, your mother would say.” He clears his throat, a shade embarrassed. “’Nuff a’ my philosophyzing, though. You understand your old daddy’s rambles?”
“Reckon so.” I smile, though knowing he could vanish like smoke from between my arms..
“That’s mah girl.” He kisses me ‘tween the ears. “Sly little thing. I got every confidence you’ll be raising rile in my honor ‘til the moon don’t shine.”
My heart thunders like a team of ponies. I grip tight to his shirt, though I can feel it misting away. The darkness of the mine creeps back around me, the edges of my vision filling over with dark, hazy tears. I bury my face in his chest again, though I can see clear on through to the disappearing fields and into the dark of the mineshaft. I’ll figure out something. I am, after all, my father’s daughter.
As he vanishes, he grins, and, for the first time in the whole of my life, I see that look of Haus-brand trouble from the outside.
The folk rush me, howling like a thousand demons.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
I see something. Something important.
My skull’s pounding like a ‘yote drum. The world is light and dark swinging before me. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, hoping to clear things up a touch. I’m being carried like a bag of potatoes, tied up at either end. On my back over some huge shoulder, I try and lie still, collecting myself for whatever it is I plan to do.
I let my head flop back, gaspin’ at the rush a blood to my aching brainpan. I glance around quick-like, frantic to spy what it was I thought so important. The tunnel of a mine leads us down, down, down. Just as the morning light from the entrance cuts off, I see an old wood box, fixed to the ceiling. On it, three glorious letters.
TNT.
“Jasper Haus, I presume.”
I struggle against my bonds as Hayes’ brutes haul me in. It’s cold down here in the mine’s center chamber, cold as the lump of fear in my belly. Pain blazes through the side of my head too, right where that panther nailed me with that plank.
A huge pit gapes before the rows of benches. Even with lanterns on every wall, I can’t see the bottom. Two of Hayes’ men, a rat and a mutt, led me down here and a third, a calico, was waiting here with him. The other dozen waited at the cavern entrance. Hayes wasn’t taking any chances with me. My shoulders ache from riding here with my paws tied behind my back, but I wasn’t sitting idle. I managed to wear through a bit of the rope against my belt, so it’s just a matter of backing against something sharp to finish the job.
Hayes slinks from where he was sitting on the altar. He walks around me, looking me up and down. I press my wrists together over the rope to keep him from seeing—
“Looks like that rope has seen better days. We’d best get you a new one.”
I cuss.
“You’re a resourceful bunny, Mister Haus. I do enjoy a good rabbit hunt.” He examines his paws one claw at a time as his men tie me up again. They aren’t stupid either; they tie on the new one before removing the old one I had frayed partways through. Damn. Lantern light spills over Hayes’ fine silk shirt and pressed pants, like he’s in some business to-do instead of some filthy old cave. Occurs to me that this is where many of his less honorable dealings might well take place. Even Morris is in attendance, along with that old bunny from the mine.
“Why don’t ya play fair, Hayes?” I can see my guns shining atop that stone table, the same one where they tore apart that calf. If I could just get at them... “Have your boys untie me and we’ll settle this like men.”
“I didn’t get where I am by playing fair, Jasper Haus. Besides, you weren’t so eager to do so with my uncle.”
“Your uncle?” I play the dumb bunny, buying time.
“You don’t see the family resemblance?” He turned his head, stroking his mane. “Not that I was overly upset. I got all his lands. I’ve built myself up quite the little empire out here. I’d hate to see it end.”
“Well, all things do.” I struggle. They tied me up even tighter this time, my paws are getting numb. “Isn’t that the way of it?”
“Not for you, Mister Haus. See, you killed Uncle Julius, oh, twenty-two years ago? And you weren’t a spring chicken at the time. By my counting, you ought to be near on fifty by now, if not older.” He looks me over like meat. “You’re no fifty.”
I say nothing.
A lone lantern flickers beside us, casting tall shadows on shelf after shelf of bones.
The lion continues to pace around me. “One of my men saw you.” He glances to the old bunny. “A fella by the name of Bennet Haus.”
I freeze a moment, choked by my own fear. Fearful notions are closing in on me awful fast, and a number of those bones look fresh. All I can think about is that little calf’s blood spurting over and over down the cold sides a’ that stone altar. I fight to keep the trembles from showing.
Hayes looks a little disappointed at my lack of reacting. “That face might win you hands of poker, but I can’t believe somebody can forget his own brother.”
My mouth goes dry, but I swallow back my words, knowing this lion ain’t one to trifle with from this unsafe distance.
“And I’ve heard tell of these fancy guns you’ve got.” He runs a paw over them. I want to rip it off his arm. “A bunny came riding in... and shot my uncle like some kind of damned prey!” He roars, inches from my face. His hot, meaty breath blasts past me, pushing my ears back. Sharp teeth gleam in the lantern light.
I freeze. Wish I could say it was from some inner well of resolve, but really I am shaking inside. The echoes of his roar call from all sides of the cavern, as if he’s every place at once.
He straightens his shirt, acting like his little outburst never occurred. “But what really interests me about you is how you’ve managed to look exactly the same for twenty-two years. Or has it been even longer? How old are you, Mister Haus?”
I really ought to say something to keep him talking, but I can’t think of anything he won’t know to be an outright lie. Even consider telling the truth, which would be novel to me, but he takes this indecision as something else.
“I asked you a question, bunny.” He pulls out a small gold box. His thumb flicks the lid open. Little metal cubes. “Answer me.”
The whispers come back. I hear Hayes yammering but it’s getting real distant compared to all these whispers. The world starts turning dark...
Snap! The box closes. “Damn. He’s a fainter. Looks like we’ll have to do this through more... traditional means.” He slaps me, hard, on the muzzle. My ears swing back from the blow, and I feel a little warm trickle of blood where his claws caught.
The whispers are gone, and I glare at him, struggling against the mutt and panther holding my tied arms.
“Is that what ya plan to do? Control everybody with those damn rocks?”
Predatory fire lights in his eyes, searing me to the bone. “I’m not telling you anything, meat!”
The lion hits me again, this time in the gut. I double over, hacking and wheezing. He nods to his men. “Hold him still. I want to search him.”
Damn.
The big panther behind me hisses at this, twitching his bandaged ear. “We already took his iron, boss.”
“Yeah, you tied him up too.” He points at the half-cut rope.
The panther says nothing, only pushes me up before Hayes. My brain fumbles for another, better lie, but there ain’t the distance. Can’t have him feeling around my person, for one obvious reason. Well, a pair if you want to get particular. I misbehave, kicking out alike a bronco when he gets near, fetching him a boot to the wrist.
He roars in pain. Glaring and ready to slice my face off, he grabs me by the shirt.
Then he looks real surprised.
Comes a time where you know you’re nailed to the counter. For me, that’s now.
I hop for all I’m worth. The panther holds tight to my rope and gets thrown to one side. I spring off his body and jump right over the stunned Hayes. I land by the stone table, twist around, and grope blindly at my guns with my tied hands. I catch one. That’ll have to do.
I spin, running sideways, and shoot the rat in my way as he fumbles his rifle. Hayes cusses up a storm as he ducks behind his mutt underling. The mutt is helping the panther up. I wouldn’t be above gunning down the lot of them, but, seeing as my paws are tied, I can’t aim anywhere but to my left side.
Diving between the benches, I roll to my back and curl my legs up. Pain shoots up my arms and back as I force my tied wrists down around my butt and legs, still holding the gun. “Aw! Damnation!” There! My paws in front of me, I roll to my side, accidentally firing a shot. Glances off the floor and into the shadows. All the while, I gnaw through the ropes. Good ol’ bunny incisors. Haven’t failed me yet.