Rising Waters

by Chloe Garner

  The men on the platform in Intec.

  She’d had days to distill what she would from it, and she knew there was a better ‘n average chance they’d try to follow her out the line. Weren’t nowhere to go. Did they have her name? Likely enough. She’d been at all of Jimmy’s meetin’s with the big men up and down the coast. He’d been happy enough to flash her ‘round, as opportunity presented.

  Her ticket’d have her name on it, and the conductor wouldn’t fail to remember the lady in the fool blue dress, so Sarah would have to make her way into hidin’ without so much as an introduction. No telling nobody her name, no askin’ round and hopin’ for friendly faces to point her right.

  She had one shot at finding her ally, and that was rooted in Jimmy’s word that he looked like Rhoda.

  How a man what threw cows for a livin’ could look like the petite, delicate woman, Sarah weren’t hopeful, but it was what she had.

  That and a purple bag.

  Dumber than pig roots.

  There was a mail depot, where men and women in various levels of sociable dress came and went, nobody taking notice of Sarah outside the stray glance at her case, but Sarah remembered a thing or two ‘bout mail depots from other bits of civilization. She went in and, right enough, there were lockers there where you could drop in the right count ‘o coin and they’d pop open. A bit dearer, and she found a box what fit the purple suitcase. Weren’t nothing left in it she needed, for now, so she left it happily and went back out, just a Lawrence-suitable case, her hat, and her attitude. People moved aside as she went by, takin’ care not to look her in the eye. All she needed were the rifle from her bag, and she’d’a been Sarah Todd true again.

  The main street stretched off to her right, and she followed, keepin’ to the street out of simple familiarity, until she found the general store. She passed a lot of familiar shops, ones that had left Lawrence when it had gone toes-up, but whose keepers she’d known, in her youth. Barber, tailor, dressmaker, livestock and feed, hardware, and the like. None of the snooty spa and lifestyle stuff Jimmy had at mind.

  Elsewhere might’ve been an upscale version of Lawrence, but Jimmy had an eye to leapfrog the whole thing and go straight for Intec levels of pretension.

  Sarah shook her head.

  It weren’t home, but it was a hell of a lot closer than what Jimmy wanted.

  They’d known he would be there. It had been an ambush, there on the platform.

  He’d said they wouldn’t win, at the house.

  Was it possible for him to win, on his own?

  All those years away, and she’d never considered something might kill him.

  He was Jimmy Lawson.

  That didn’t happen to him.

  She ignored the thought, pursing her lips and heading into the general store. It was air conditioned, but only enough so you’d notice it, makin’ a point of being upscale, successful. A place to gather and spend a bit of shine.

  She walked the aisles, running a finger over the labels. She knew all of them.

  Rhoda grew up here. Spent her evenin’s doing just the same as Sarah did now, lookin’ at cans of this and tins of that, nothin’ fresh but what grew outside.

  Hard to imagine, that.

  Rhoda had bloomed out at Intec, in ways Sarah never had at Oxala.

  Rhoda’d gotten prettier. Sarah had just gotten craftier.

  She found a box of fresh gremlin leaves sitting at the back, and she frowned, going up to the counter.

  “You got dry gremlin?” she asked.

  “What for?” a wrinkled older man said. If he’d gotten onto the Perpeto, it had been late, or with big gaps. Probably one of the holdouts what thought the old ways were the best. Sarah respected that.

  “Smokin’,” she said. “Tea.”

  “You smoke that stuff?” he asked incredulously. “Where you from?”

  “What’s it matter?” she answered. “You got it or ain’t’cha?”

  “Maybe some from last harvest,” he said. “You sure you don’t want fresh?”

  “You ever try to smoke a fresh leaf?” she answered. He shrugged and shuffled away, going up a set of stairs and coming back with another shoulder-wide box. He set it down on the counter.

  “How much you want?”

  She pulled out her bag.

  “Fill it up,” she said. He frowned at her, but did as she asked and gave her a price.

  “You got a name?” he asked as she paid.

  “Nope,” she answered, turning.

  There was a man behind her, close enough that she almost ran him over, lookin’ at sweeties in a jar.

  And hell if he didn’t look like Rhoda in a giant hat.

  Sarah went outside, rolling a cigarette and leaning against the wall outside of the general store, waitin’ for the man to come out.

  “Merv?” she asked.

  “I know you?” he asked.

  “You got a daughter named Rhoda,” Sarah said. Faster ‘n she could see, there was a bit of metal pokin’ her ribs with a bullet at the other end of it.

  “You need to think real careful about what you say next,” Merv said. She gave him a cool smile.

  “I’m her future sister-in-law.”

  The gun vanished with the same serpentine flick, and she tipped her head.

  “Walk with me,” he said, and she fell into step next to him, toting her bag along by her.

  “Was under the impression that the Lawsons only married bits of candy-colored flotsom,” he said. She looked at him, almost forgettin’ to walk for a second.

  “They do,” she said. “Thought I was the only one what noticed it.”

  “Where does that put you?” Merv asked.

  “Jimmy,” she said. “I’m from Lawrence. Jimmy and I been close, goin’ way back.”

  “Where is he?” Merv asked, dropping a large, twine-tied package into the back of a buckboard and stepping down into it.

  “Intec,” Sarah said. “If’n he’s still alive at all.”

  Merv rubbed his chin, then stepped across the buckboard and sat down.

  “Reckon you ought come with me, then.”

  She nodded, dropping her case into the back and hopping down into the buckboard. She leaned back and propped her elbow behind her across the simple board that constituted the backrest.

  Simple was right, ‘round parts like these. She liked it.

  Town stretched on a couple more blocks, lots of fancy ladies in prim dresses the likes of which Sarah remembered seein’ around Lawrence, now she was lookin’ at em. Shops with glass in the front and men in proper little hats. Lawrence had been like this, once.

  “You still pullin’ absenta out of the hills?” she asked Merv.

  “Nah,” he answered. “That all dried up ‘bout five years ago. Got enough gold comin’ down with the water, though. Keeps us in shine.”

  He glanced at her.

  “Rhoda ain’t said much about what’s goin’ on in Lawrence,” he said. Sarah shook her head.

  “Story for fewer ears.”

  He nodded, clucking at the horse as the milling population of Elsewhere thinned out. The horse picked up a fine trot, and Sarah watched the final buildings disappear behind ‘em.

  “Tell me about the trouble,” he said.

  “Don’t rightly know, yet,” Sarah said. “We was in Intec on business and somethin’ that’s been chasin’ us since Lawrence caught up. Don’t know who it is or what they’re after, but it’s a right deep set of pockets behind what we seen so far.”

  Merv nodded.

  “Rhoda in danger?”

  “No more than she was ever gonna be, takin’ up with a Lawson. She’s around a couple of the best gun hands I know, allowin’ you never told ‘em I said so, and we figure the trouble’s after Jimmy more’n the Lawsons as a whole.”

  Merv nodded.

  “How is she?”

  Sarah smiled.

  “Happy, I reckon. I gave her a piece of my mind, last thing ‘fore settin’ out, but she�
��s a good woman and she’s with a good man. Best of ‘em, if you ask me. Settlin’ in to Lawrence like she’s gonna build it to suit her.”

  “She will,” Merv said. “We sent her up-line for an education, and ever since, she’s had her own mind.”

  “Reckon she probably did before that, too.”

  He grunted, giving her a look that said she’d guessed right.

  “You armed?” he asked. She shifted her duster so he could see her handgun.

  “Got a rifle in the bag just needs a bolt put back, and I’m ready to ride.”

  He nodded.

  “You good with a horse?”

  “Prefer it to walkin’,” she answered, and he grunted.

  “You’ll have to work your keep,” he said. “We ain’t got the space or time for fancy-town guests.”

  “I keep a herd of cows all on my own,” she said. “Ain’t much, but I know my way ‘round ‘em, and I can cut ‘em down and hang ‘em up, should you need it.”

  He nodded.

  “How did Jimmy Lawson end up with a woman like you?”

  She shook her head.

  “Think he asks the same question.”

  Merv laughed and slapped the reins across the horse’s back, more noise than sting, and the animal lengthened its gait easily.

  “Nice blood he’s got,” Sarah said, nodding at the horse.

  “You got a good eye,” Merv answered. “I breed ‘em for pleasure. He’s one of my favorites.”

  “Always put the fine horses to cart rather than saddle,” Sarah said. “I never did make sense of it.”

  Merv laughed.

  “Less likely to catch a bullet, more likely to treat a lady.”

  She shook her head.

  “Cart ain’t likely to dump you on account of some fool inclination to jump,” she said, and he laughed again.

  “Can’t argue that,” he agreed.

  “Rhoda told me she was from a town like this, but I didn’t believe her,” Sarah said. Merv nodded.

  “Ain’t easy to see it, when you don’t how to look,” he said.

  “Reckon,” Sarah nodded, peerin’ over her shoulder and retrieving her case, unfastening it far enough to pull out the rifle bits and settlin’ in to fix ‘em together again. Done, it felt good to have the rifle layin’ across her lap again.

  She watched the country go by.

  “More grass up here,” she observed.

  “What do you do for cattle feed?” Merv asked. “Grain?”

  She shook her head.

  “Lawrence went without the reliable service of a train for a good six years,” she said. “Can’t rely on feed like that.”

  “So what do you do?”

  “Run ‘em free rein up to the mountains,” she said.

  “Altitude keeps the weight off ‘em,” he observed, and she nodded.

  “Ain’t as fat as what you got here, true enough, but they breed and they eat just fine.”

  “Tough, I reckon,” he said, and she shrugged.

  “I salt ‘em and dry ‘em, either way.”

  He laughed.

  “Steaks for dinner it is, then,” he said. “Show you what a real cattleman does with his crop.”

  She smiled.

  “Ain’t had a proper red steak in more’n I can tell you.”

  “Even with the Lawsons back?” he asked. “Thought they’d’a had the means.”

  “Means, true enough,” she said. “They ain’t got the stomach. Prefer broth and sauce over substance.”

  He snorted.

  “Sounds like every man I ever known out’a Intec.”

  She nodded.

  “They’ll get their roots back, I reckon, in time. Been too long in the city, no doubt in my mind, but they’s Lawrence boys, down deep.”

  The ride out to the Orb homestead was a touch over an hour, probably eight or ten miles, by Sarah’s count. A good distance. Lotta land to work between here and there, lotta room to the next neighbor, but not so long to go for help, at need.

  Sarah jumped down, balancin’ her rifle over her arm and under her shoulder, then grabbed her bag and followed Merv into the house.

  “Mary,” he thundered at the threshold. “Mary, we got company.”

  Sarah stepped to the side at the sound of a shotgun.

  “Might wanna specify ‘friendly’ company,” she said, and he laughed.

  “Put the gun away, Mary,” Merv said. “It’s a Lawson.”

  “I’m Sarah Todd,” Sarah said. “Might marry a Lawson, but they ain’t made me one, yet.”

  He snorted.

  “Still one of ‘em, far as I’m concerned,” he said, holding up an arm. “Mary, this is Sarah. Sarah, my wife Mary.”

  Sarah stepped forward and offered Mary her hand.

  “What color is my daughter’s hair?” Mary asked.

  “Same black as yours and your husband’s,” Sarah said. “Though I must say, she’s taken after your husband’s complexion.”

  Mary put the shotgun down against the door frame.

  “How is my daughter?” she asked.

  “Feisty,” Sarah said.

  “And which one of those awful boys are you attached to?” Mary asked.

  “Jimmy,” Sarah said. Mary twisted her mouth hard to the side.

  “Never knew what to make of him.”

  “Most folk don’t,” Sarah answered.

  “Well, come in, come in. Let me find you a bed. You can have Rhoda’s room, if you like it. What brings you to Elsewhere?”

  “Jimmy’s stirred up a bit of trouble,” Merv said. “Sarah’s here to take cover.”

  She didn’t recall saying it that way, and Sarah bristled at the idea she needed it, but it weren’t untrue.

  “And where’s Jimmy?” Mary asked.

  “Intec, still,” Sarah said. “I’ll be watchin’ the trains for him, but I reckon the other side’s gonna show up first.”

  Mary nodded.

  “We’ll be ready for ‘em, if they do.”

  “Sarah’s from Lawrence,” Merv said. “Actually knows the business end of a butcher knife.”

  “No question, he’ll put you to work,” Mary said. “You want washin’ up, first?”

  “No point washin’ if you’re just goin’ back out,” Sarah said. “Appreciate your trouble.”

  “None,” Mary said. “We’re short a couple hands, ‘round here, just now, anyway. Pull your weight, and we ain’t out a thing.”

  Sarah touched her hat and followed Mary up a set of rugged-built wood stairs to a sparse but well-formed bedroom. There was a small desk in the corner, a narrow bed against the wall, and a chest at the foot of the bed.

  “Ain’t much,” Mary said.

  “I’ve lived in rooms like this most of my life,” Sarah said. Mary gave her a little nod and left. Sarah went through the suitcase, taking out her own clothes and Jimmy’s and stashing them under the bed, then puttin’ the money into the chest at the foot of the bed, turning the key there and pocketing it. It wouldn’t hold up ‘gainst someone right determined, but it’d do to keep out the curious. Sarah looked at the room once more then turned and trotted back down the stairs. Merv looked up from a conversation with a man in durable working clothes and Sarah lifted her chin.

  “You got work what needs doin’?”

  --------

  Calving season was just startin’ and Sarah found her days filled with cow, hay, grain, and dirt, much the way they’d always been, leavin’ off the bandits and gunplay. It was a good time, easy enough, and she took her meals with the Orbs, finding Mary and Merv familiar in a way she’d never had, back home.

  She were a homesteader before she knew what happened.

  The first couple days, Merv stayed home and left a watcher at the house, keepin’ eyes on the dirt path leadin’ up to the house, but when there was no action there, he took to goin’ in to town, mornings, and seein’ what there were to see.

  Mary fussed at Sarah like a hen, while Merv was gone, assurin’
her that Jimmy’d be there afore Sarah had time to miss him, but the trains came, daily, to Elsewhere, and weren’t no sign of Jimmy nor the men what were tryin’ to put holes in him.

  Sarah began to wonder if they hadn’t managed it, that first day.

  Wondered if anyone had the means to track her down, if Jimmy were dead.

  After two weeks, Sarah started ridin’ into town with Merv, horseback, waitin’ on the train from a distance, just to see who got off.

  This far west, most of the men carried guns, but weren’t nobody with a look to ‘em like they were huntin’ anyone in particular, and - more importantly - weren’t no sign of Jimmy.

  The Orbs had a pair of dogs, pretty-bred animals with shiny black and gold coats thick enough to keep a varmint off ‘em, even in a good fight.

  First light, Sarah was out of bed, dressin’ and takin’ care of what little she had with her, then she’d go downstairs and eat a breakfast with the family. Mary had eight mouths to feed: two grown boys, their wives, and one toddling grandbaby, Merv, Sarah, and herself, and the table was lively at that point of the day. With a hearty meal down, Sarah’d go out and whistle to the dogs - they had names, but Sarah didn’t know ‘em, and the creatures didn’t need to hear ‘em to answer - and she’d go down to the barn to check the cows.

  The Orbs had two milkin’ cows, and she’d start with them, settin’ a bucket under each of ‘em and fillin’ it topping, most mornings, one dog at either knee. She shot milk at ‘em, from time to time, and they yawlped happy noises, gravity not quite strong enough to keep ‘em butt-down in the straw.

  After, she’d check water, clean stalls, and put hands on each of the cows individually, pushin’ her shoulder to the sides of the cows ‘bout to drop calves, feelin’ their progress.

  She’d go into town with Merv, watch the train come in, then stop in to pick up what goods the homestead needed on the way back out. Merv tried to spring for clothes for Sarah at one turn, and she told him to put his money back in his pocket, but she did buy more clothes. The work was too rough to wear the same git every day, and she had naught but the clothes she’d worn out of Lawrence, for working clothes.

  She’d ride range with the boys in the afternoons, the heat of the sun enough to melt stone, even this far north, lettin’ the horses pick their own pace as they watched for things not right got. Evenings, she tended equipment and the occasional injury, as the Orbs put her patcher skills to work. She’d sit on the porch after sunset, smoking gremlin and watchin’ the world, wonderin’ where Jimmy was and what progress he’d made. Some nights one or the other of the boys would sit with her, or Mary, but mostly it was Merv in the next chair over, just takin’ in the night.