Tip of the Spear

by Marie Harte

  TIP OF THE SPEAR

  An Amazon Western

  By Marie Harte

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and plot points stem from the writer’s imagination. They are fictitious and not to be interpreted as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locations or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Tip of the Spear

  Copyright © October 2012 by Marie Harte

  Cover by P and N Graphics

  All Rights Are Reserved. None of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without express written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for reviews or promotion.

  http://www.marieharte.com

  Chapter One

  Four Corners Territory

  The New Beginning, Year 1156 NB

  Hinto swore under his breath as he watched his prospects for a fine meal and warm woman fall under the boot heel of an aggressive shit-kicker. He hurried his horse across the barren plain, praying he’d make it in time. Overhead, the sun shone through wisps of white clouds in a lavender sky. Autumn gave his breath a touch of frost with every nervous exhalation.

  What he saw made him swear. A tall, thin stranger kicked Hinto’s bounty in the knee, forcing the little bastard to the ground. His bounty made the mistake of trying to take the man down with him. Hinto swore again as the stranger’s knife plunged through Bob’s jugular and cost him two hundred in gold.

  “Dammit, gimme that knife. I saw it, it’s mine,” Lenny Apperson shouted, ignoring his fallen comrade as he reached for the blade… and had his nose broken when the stranger kicked him in the face.

  An impressive move, and a dumb one. Lenny’s brother, a meaner, larger version of the rat-faced smaller man, caught the stranger from behind in a bear hug. Never turn your back on the real threat—a mantra Hinto had been raised repeating.

  The stranger didn’t struggle. As Hinto drew closer to the scene, he took in the details he hadn’t seen before. Something didn’t add up.

  “Give Lenny the knife,” Benny Apperson ordered. Benny and Lenny. Two bumbling bank robbers with a penchant for petty theft and the occasional murder. A real fun pair Hinto looked forward to taking into his custody. Alive.

  The stranger nodded, his concealing black hat like a large raven against Benny’s denim-clad chest. Dressed in denims from head to toe and wearing a leather vest, a bandana, and a hat, the stranger looked like every other man in Little Valley. Except Hinto hadn’t seen anyone move the way this guy did in years, not since the circus had passed through Junction Way in Big Sky Territory up north.

  Benny squeezed and growled, “I said give Lenny the knife.”

  The stranger held the knife out to Lenny, and Hinto noted the fine gold piping around what looked like an ivory handle encrusted with gems. When Lenny moved forward to grab it, the stranger twisted and sank the blade deep into Benny’s side while kicking out at Lenny.

  Benny howled as Lenny went flying. The stranger raced to kneel over him, the tip of his knife pressed against Lenny’s trembling throat.

  Tired of being ignored, Hinto fired once into the air.

  The stranger froze.

  Lenny brayed like a damn mule. “Thank God. Help me! This boy done killed Bob, stabbed my brother, and tried to rob me. That’s my pa’s knife he’s holdin’!”

  Hinto nudged his mount closer and pointed his rifle at the stranger, who didn’t so much as twitch. “Sorry, mister. These two are mine. Take your knife, and your horse,” he added, seeing the saddled beauty under a grove of nearby blood trees, “and move along.” Prepared to fight to get his way, Hinto watched with wary surprise as the lean man stood, sheathed his knife, and walked away without a word.

  Lenny flew to Benny’s side. To Hinto’s relief, Benny’s wound didn’t appear life threatening, because the giant idiot lumbered to his feet and started whining to Lenny about every goddamned thing in the territory.

  “Okay, you two. Tie up and we’ll head out.”

  Lenny turned to Hinto, as if seeing him for the first time, and swore. “Shit. Hinto Dakota? I heard you was down south hunting Chatrell.”

  “You heard wrong.”

  “Shee-it. Come on, Hinto. We ain’t doin’ nothing wrong, here. Fancy knife that boy’s got. He don’t deserve it.”

  Boy? Hinto studied the stranger now on his horse. He didn’t look right in the saddle, though Hinto couldn’t have said why he thought such. The man, or boy, didn’t react when the branches of a blood tree swayed toward him. Interesting, because most men with sense would move away. The hungry trees sought the red stain of Bob’s blood on his sleeve, and if they poked a few holes in the stranger seeking more, they’d be sure to find a whole body full of the red stuff. Yet the stranger rode away without looking back.

  And that quickly, he wasn’t Hinto’s problem anymore.

  “Okay, Lenny. You know the drill.” Hinto dismounted and tied the brothers up without a fight. His reputation preceded him. Not necessarily a good thing, but in this instance it helped. He fastened the brothers’ lead to his saddle. “Where are your horses?”

  “Why? You gonna feed them to that thing you ride?” Lenny sneered.

  Hinto sighed. “Where are they? Quickly now, before I decide you’re not worth the hassle to drag in alive and feed you to Beast.” Beast snorted with what sounded like laughter. Hinto knew what most folks thought about carnivorous horses, or vores, but he preferred a mount that could ride for days without food or water and carry his weight with ease. So Beast liked to eat meat. That’s what the dead were for.

  Since he wouldn’t earn even a nugget for a corpse on this job, Hinto pulled Bob’s carcass away from the others. “Go on, Beast. Get to it.”

  The vore huffed and pawed its appreciation, then made short work of Bob. Ignoring Lenny and Benny’s horrified gasps, Hinto asked again. “Your horses? Or would you rather I gave you to Beast for dessert?”

  “Don’t got none,” Benny answered in a hurry. “Lenny lost ‘em in a card game a few nights ago. That’s why we’re lookin’ for some easy gold.”

  “Shut up, Benny,” Lenny hissed.

  “You shut up. I’m bleedin’ here. And I’m hungry,” Benny added in a sulky voice.

  “Tell you what, fellas. I know the marshal in Little Valley. He’s got a right nice jail cell with beds and meals included.” As well as chains and a lock to hold these idiots until Mrs. Collins came in to claim her due. She’d hired Hinto, and she’d find her justice for four hundred gold, easy.

  “Marshal? Why didn’t you say so?” Lenny grew almost agreeable. “I thought you was takin’ us to Annie Collins. Bitch is crazy.”

  Crazy with the need for vengeance. But who could blame her? Lenny and Benny had shot her husband in cold blood for a pocketful of nuggets.

  As the three of them made their way to town, Hinto couldn’t help thinking about his own father. Just like Annie’s husband, Dan Dakota had been shot for no good reason. The bullet had passed through his chest, but he hadn’t been the same since. Lung sickness settled in, and all the medicines in the Territories couldn’t help him. Which left just one option.

  Hinto picked up his pace, ignoring the swearing behind him as the Apperson brothers were forced to run to keep up. Bounty hunting had become a lucrative career, but it kept him away from home. The tougher bounties brought more gold, which would buy him a better chance to cross the Divide into the East. Consulting with several doctors led him to believe the rumors that some working lung machines, and the doctors who could handle them, were his father’s only option. No one Hinto had ever met could handle anything electronic. The few devices in existence winked out after a minute in anyone’s hands. What choice did he have? Go East and searc
h, or lose his father forever.

  Clenching his fists around the reins, Hinto forced himself to slow down. Dragging the Appersons wouldn’t help. Annie wanted them unharmed. She intended to pay good money to exert her own brand of justice. Hinto had envisioned time and time again what he’d do to the bastards that had tried to steal his father’s spread should he catch them. Annie wouldn’t be half as inventive as what he planned.

  “Hinto, damn, son. Wait a spell,” Lenny rasped and tried to catch his breath.

  Hinto looked behind him. Benny’s side bled through the rough bandage Lenny had fixed, but the giant trudged along without a problem. In the distance, a few raptors sailed above the clouds, heading south. The hint of ball lightning threatened in the direction of the Divide, that damned land the sky rocks owned. The hell of it was, a part of him wanted to head East, to feel the lightning dance along his skin. Beast snorted, as if agreeing with the unspoken thought.

  Not good.

  He cleared his throat. “Come on, you two. We’re nearly there.” A few lengths of shadow and they’d reach Little Valley.

  Keeping his focus on the objective—to raise enough gold to save his father—Hinto used a nice, easy gait to walk the brothers into town.

  Centered on a flat plain adjacent to a large, fresh lake, Little Valley had a large populace and constant stream of visitors. At least five hundred townspeople had settled down for the duration. The railroad that ran past the town only enhanced its viability. Little Valley prospered, as did all who lived on its periphery.

  Large wooden and brick buildings stood high against the sun. Three streets made up the bulk of the town. On the main road, on which he traveled, sat the jail, an apothecary, mercantile, smithy, bank, saloon and hotel. And at the end of the road, a large church complete with a bell tower and stained glass windows watched over the town. Second Street boasted shops for those more prosperous. Clothing stores, tailors, bakeries and the like. Nothing necessary, just nice items to have if one could afford them. Third Street, farthest away from the housing district and the church, catered to his kind of man. Whorehouses, another bar, and gambling dens accounted for the majority of sins one could find in Little Valley. Still, the town had a wholesomeness to it Hinto welcomed. So different from the places he normally frequented.

  He nodded and tipped his hat at several women. Another rarity Little Valley amassed. In the centuries since the Great Storm, when the human population had dwindled to just about nothing, the divide between men and women had grown. For some odd reason, males dominated in the Territories. A good woman was hard to come by, and a decent whore even more so. Abusing a woman was frowned upon. Of course, “abuse” could be subjective. Going against the Nature Laws, however, could get a man killed.

  And speaking of the Nature Laws… Hinto made sure to stop first at the United Territorial Office. Every registered town had a UTO, and only a fool disregarded the Territorials who kept the natural order of things. He dismounted from Beast, hitched him to a post, and grabbed his rifle and papers. To the Appersons, he said, “You two keep quiet and keep still. I’ll be out right quick. Don’t fuck around,” he muttered in a low voice, conscious as not to offend a pair of women who skirted Beast with wide eyes.

  “Not here, uh uh,” Lenny said, at least smart enough not to screw around near Territorials.

  Dragging his tired ass up wooden steps and into the large building, Hinto couldn’t help noting how green everything was. Plants and flowers spilled over wooden buckets and flower boxes under cut-glass windows. The porch before the front door had been swept free of dirt, and the breeze that flowed past him smelled sweet and clean. The Territorials obviously took their jobs seriously. The last “town” Hinto had visited smelled like piss, stale ale, and crude oil. It was only a matter of time before the Territorials found it and razed the place to the ground.

  He entered the building, making certain to keep his rifle pointed at the floor. Several others stood before him, and as he waited in line, he wondered if the stranger he’d encountered had come this way, and if he’d visited the office. Hinto would bet a month’s worth of gold he hadn’t.

  “Next.”

  Following the deep voice, he turned left and placed his rifle and papers on the counter. A large man checked over his rifle, inspected his iron approved rounds, and took a hard look at his papers.

  “You plannin’ on wood cutting?”

  “No.”

  “Mining?” he asked in a sharp voice. Miners received as much love as murderers in these parts, but demand for precious stones and gold kept them in business all the same.

  “Hell no.”

  “Good.” The Territorial rifled again through his papers and glanced up at him. “Hinto Dakota?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You bring what you promised?”

  Hinto frowned. “Not sure I know what you mean, UT.” United Territorial, what most of the Territorials preferred to be called.

  “I’m a friend of Annie’s.”

  Hinto wasn’t sure if the UT was part of Annie’s family, as in a protectorate, or just a friend. Since females were hard enough to find in the territories, many folks had taken to living in extended families called protectorates, usually because they consisted of one female and the many males who protected her and their resultant offspring.

  Hinto answered with respect, just to be on the safe side. “Ah, yes, Sir. They’re sitting outside just waiting on me.”

  The UT stamped his papers without another word. “Marshal’s fifth station on the left down the street.” He grinned, showing bright white teeth. His eyes looked as flat and hard as steel.

  “Right. Thanks.” Hinto left without another word. Anytime spent near the UTs unnerved him. Most of them would consider his abilities a threat, an unnatural source of energy with the potential to pollute the air, the town, or hell, the local populace. A load of horseshit, but not everyone had been raised to ask questions first and shoot later.

  Outside again, he unhooked the lead from his saddle and pulled his bounties with him. “Beast, stay here. I’ll be back to get you soon.” The animal nodded and lowered his head to a nearby trough. To Hinto’s amusement, the vore received more attention than the Appersons.

  In no time, he handed his bounty over to the marshal, counted out the marshal’s take, and measured the rest of his payment. Three hundred and eighty gold nuggets would go a nice way toward the stash he’d already banked. Three hundred and sixty, he amended, needing a woman, a meal, and a bath, and not necessarily in that order.

  He returned to Beast. Once in the stabling yard, he found one stable hand brave enough to handle him. “Beast, don’t give him any nonsense, you hear?” He tugged the vore’s bridal and stared into its eyes. A familiar heat tingled, and he knew the vore felt it. A communal sense of understanding infused him, and he let go of Beast and patted its thick neck. “He’ll be good,” he said to the stable hand. “Just make sure to keep a hunk of meat nearby, in case he gets uppity.”

  The stable hand nodded, captivated. To his credit, not many had ever seen a vore, let alone been brave enough to care for one. Taller and broader than a normal horse, Beast possessed red eyes that glowed in the dark and contrasted sharply with its black hide, sharp canines able to tear apart a human body in minutes, and a white, unexpectedly silky mane. A branch of the equine family, vores evolved hundreds of years ago after the Great Storm, when the natural and unnatural began to merge.

  Not wanting to dwell on his own unnatural differences, Hinto left the stables, visited the bank, and deposited his gold. The gold transfer would take a few days to hit home, when the railroad and Runners delivered the bank’s statements to outlying branches, but the actual gold would be safer here than in Shine, his hometown in Big Sky. The southwestern section of Big Sky Territory had a reputation as a wild reserve. The UTs left it well enough alone, not wanting to deal with the creatures that drifted through from the tainted Divide.

  Vores, skin walkers, walking weeds and other Zoner
s found refuge in Big Sky, where being a local meant more than being natural. For that alone, he’d have called Shine home.

  Beautiful and untamed, and lawless as well.

  Hinto wouldn’t trade it for the world. Nor would his father and brothers. Now he just had to get his ass home again and convince his father to be less stubborn than usual. He sighed, not wanting to dwell on the potential of another huge argument, and focused on the here and now.

  With the UTO, Beast, and the bank handled, Hinto could finally take care of himself. He passed Annie Collins on his way down an alley toward Third Street. “Best of luck, ma’am.”

  She smiled and saluted him with a leather crop, then continued on her way.

  Appersons are gonna wish I’d never found them. Hinto smiled, not feeling a lick of sympathy for the bastards who’d made their own problems. Needing the same respite Annie would soon feel, Hinto thought about DeeDee and focused. She had a particular energy that spoke of the feminine, an electro-magnetic draw, as his father would say. All people, all living creatures, possessed it. But Hinto could sense it. It made tracking a helluva lot easier when he could literally feel his quarry from miles away.

  He followed her trail toward Kitty House, an upscale whorehouse and one much cleaner than Delware’s a few doors down. At Kitty’s, DeeDee would draw him a bath, feed him then ride him until he couldn’t think anymore.

  Lost in fantasies of DeeDee’s mouth, he nearly ran into an altercation he could have done without.

  Four horse-handlers—wranglers—by the looks of them, sported with a young man covered in dust. A one-piece gray jumpsuit, which should have camouflaged his mining dust but didn’t, complemented the helmet atop his head and the steel-toed boots on his feet.

  The kid couldn’t have been more than sixteen at most, but he had that same glazed look of hunger and exhaustion all miners possessed. At one point in history they’d called it Gold Rush Fever. Now they called it by its real name: unfathomable greed. Hinto didn’t know whether to feel disgusted or sorry for the boy. What a life to lead.