Petra

by Arch Gallen

  *Black Powder Justice, Western Settler Saga VII

  Then there was the other side he knew better than any. He’d killed outlaws and troublemakers, a remarkable number for one his age, arrested even more and sent hundreds to prison where they could nurse grudges, build hatred and fantasize about revenge for years before being loosed back on society. The family knew the past might return but Pike understood for certain some hard cases would show up, gun in hand. Already, in fact, a few had but with little fanfare and less killing than some expected as Adam handled business when they did leaving the town and his kin bothered little by it.

  Petra, on the other hand, was a different sort than the others. Pike would have some studying to do before facing this problem.

  “Any message you want sent back?” Step asked quietly.

  Adam looked his brother in the eye, revealing nothing of his thought causing Step to shudder within. What became of the youngest brother between his leaving Michigan and the kin arriving in Morale two years later was the stuff of stories he could most times scarcely believe. Outwardly, Adam looked much the same, more grown and filled out fitting one aging from boy to man but still the blocky rock of granite he already showed becoming as a youngster. His natural penchant for hard work built into uncommon physical strength matched or, maybe, even exceeded by a lightning quick mind.

  “No message.” Adam replied. “Just let the town folk know I’ll be riding in.” His jaw tightened. “Petra will hear what he wants to hear from that and disregard the rest anyway.”

  Unsure what roiled though Adam’s mind, Step nodded, a late season house fly getting squashed on the table as penalty for peskiness during a time of Step’s uncertainty. Sometimes, he just didn’t know what was inside his brother at all. So much of what struck him very different about Adam when arriving in Colorado had become ordinary with a decade's passage but occasions like these reminded there’d been a shift in attitude and thinking from the boy he grew up alongside, one showing itself rarely but unnerving when they did.

  Gathering his hat Step rose, setting his cup in the wash basin wordlessly. This was one of those times, he knew, and Adam was best left to himself with nothing to be said or done that would help decide what was needful doing or how to go about it no matter how much desire he had to do so. His best and only decision was to stand aside and be prepared if, and when, Adam needed and asked. With no more than a nod, he left, shutting the door softly behind him. Squinting out over the spread, he inhaled cool air with relief. What was to be, was to be.