Clash of the Worlds

by Chris Columbus

  “Is there a train depot nearby?” Cordelia asked.

  “Down the road a bit.” Adie pointed toward a small, white building on the edge of town next to the tracks. “Where you headed?”

  “Not quite sure,” Cordelia said.

  Adie nodded in spite of seeming a little confused by the response. She was about to ask another question, when she noticed something on the dirt road a few feet away. She quickly rushed forward and knelt down.

  “Oh no!” Adie gasped, cupping something small in her hands.

  Eleanor leaned in to get a better look and then covered her mouth in horror.

  Adie stood up and spun around. A small robin with a crooked and damaged wing lay in her small palms. The girl’s smile was gone as she examined the little bird carefully.

  “I hope you all find what you need,” Adie said to the Walkers. “But I need to get home and care for this poor little fella.”

  The Walkers nodded and thanked Adie for the food one last time as she gently put the injured bird in the front pocket of her dress. She grabbed her picnic basket and hurried off toward the other end of town.

  The Walkers trudged toward the train station, holding their overly stuffed stomachs.

  “Exactly how do you think we’re going to pay for train tickets?” Brendan asked.

  “These are frontier times,” Cordelia said. “Maybe the conductor’s willing to take something as a trade. Like some of the books from Denver’s library maybe?”

  “Only if he wants to put himself to sleep,” Brendan said, noticing the townsfolk stepping outside into the morning sun to stare at the newcomers with open mouths. The sight of three strange kids in odd clothes walking into town was apparently pretty out of the ordinary in Van Hook.

  At the far end of the dirt road on the edge of town, they ascended a few steps leading to the train platform. They stepped up to the ticket window. The train station itself was the size of a large shed. A young man, maybe eighteen or nineteen years old, stood inside the small hole cut into the side of the building that served as the ticket booth. He had red hair, a lot of freckles, and sweat was dripping in streams down his face, despite the mild morning temperature.

  “May I help you?” he asked. His voice cracked uneasily.

  “Yes, sir,” Cordelia said politely. “When does the next train depart and how much for three fares?”

  “Um, well . . . ,” the kid said nervously. He looked at something behind him and then fidgeted with a pen on his side of the counter. “Stay right here. I got to check on something. I’ll be right back. Okay?”

  Without waiting for an answer, he disappeared somewhere inside the small train depot.

  “Why was he acting so weird?” Brendan asked.

  “I don’t know,” Cordelia said.

  She leaned against the wall of the depot, while Eleanor sat down next to her and closed her eyes as if taking a quick morning siesta. Brendan pulled out the Journal and unfolded the book world map. He might as well try to find out if this train could take them anywhere useful. But he barely had time to even glance at the map, before a loud voice shattered the silence of the small prairie town.

  “Looks like we hit the jackpot, boys,” a familiar voice shouted.

  The Walkers looked up and found themselves staring right at Sheriff Burton “Wolf Catcher” Abernathy and his two deputies, McCoy and Sturgis. They grinned at the children. Their yellow teeth gleamed in the morning sun almost as brightly as their shiny guns.

  “Wait a second, Sheriff,” Deputy McCoy said. “That ain’t the same kid that used the strange torture contraption on me.” He spat a huge stream of brown tobacco juice onto the dirt. “This one here’s got hisself a mustache. A mighty fine mustache at that—even finer than Mustache Dan’s . . .”

  “That’s not a real mustache, you jackass,” Sheriff Abernathy said. “It’s painted on.”

  “Kid’s a mighty fine artist, though,” Deputy Sturgis said with a low whistle.

  “Don’t matter,” the sheriff said. “He and his burnt-boot-faced sisters broke the law, and we’re gonna make sure we see that justice is served.”

  Cordelia noticed Eleanor balling up her fists, like she was ready to charge the lawmen. She put a hand on her younger sister’s shoulder and held her back.

  “Wait,” Cordelia said. “Just let us take the next train out of here. Then we’ll be gone and you’ll never see us again.”

  “I’m afraid we can’t let you do that,” Deputy McCoy said. “You see, in addition to assaulting an officer of the law, you kids was aiding and abetting a known enemy of the state, the outlaw Lefty Payne. We caught him just an hour’s ride south of your home. And according to the law of this great land, that makes you all . . . uh, uh, what’s that make them again, Sheriff?”

  “Accomplices,” Sheriff Abernathy said.

  “Yeah, accomplices,” the deputy repeated. “And we ain’t making good on the law if we knowingly let three outlaw accomplices go free, is we?”

  This seemed like a rhetorical question to the Walkers and so none of them bothered to provide an answer.

  “By the power instilled unto me as sheriff of Williams County, you three are hereby under arrest,” Sheriff Abernathy said, drawing his pistol faster than the speed of sound. “Don’t think about running or resisting, unless you want to suddenly find yourselves six ounces of lead heavier. Ain’t nobody that can outrun a bullet, and that’s the God’s honest truth.”

  He grinned as the three Walkers raised their hands in defeat.

  “What are we going to do now?” Cordelia asked, pacing restlessly around inside the town jail’s holding cell. “We have to find a way out of here!”

  Brendan looked up from the Journal. His sister was clearly losing it. She was such a control freak that her complete loss of control as the de facto family leader was making her go insane.

  “Calm down, Deal,” Brendan said. “I’m hoping there’s something in this book that will help us do that!”

  “Don’t tell me to calm down!” Cordelia shouted. “I’m sick and tired of you taking advantage of this situation!”

  “What situation?” Brendan asked.

  “Me not being able to read the Journal,” Cordelia screamed. “You just love the fact that you have more power than I do! And you’re lording it over me!”

  “I’m just trying to help,” Brendan said.

  The man in the corner of the cell raised his head slightly at the sound of their argument. His cowboy hat was pressed down so far that they couldn’t see his face. He had been there when the three Walkers were tossed inside the cell like rag dolls. But he had barely moved and hadn’t spoken at all since their arrival and so the Walkers had almost forgotten he was there altogether.

  Eleanor stepped in between her two siblings.

  “Guys! Stop fighting!”

  But they didn’t even acknowledge her. She gave up a few seconds later and sat next to the man in black. His arms were folded across his chest and he smelled faintly of tobacco and booze—a lot like their uncle Frank.

  “No one ever listens to me,” Eleanor said in defeat after slumping down onto the bench while her brother and sister continued to argue.

  It wasn’t like this last time. Last time they were here, they’d worked as a team. As a family. Eleanor hated what was happening to them.

  “See?” Eleanor cried when she didn’t get so much as a grunt of a reply from the stranger sharing their prison cell. “Even you don’t listen to me, and you have no one else to talk to!”

  The man in black’s foot shifted slightly on the dirt floor. An intricate red pattern was stitched into the black leather on his boots.

  “I like your boots,” Eleanor said. “Are they custom-made? They look custom-made. Where does a guy get custom-made boots around here anyway?”

  She thought she heard a soft sigh escape the shield that his hat brim formed over his face. But it was hard to tell with Cordelia and Brendan still bickering on the other side of the prison cell.


  “What are you in for anyway?” Eleanor asked. “Train robbery? Jaywalking? Illegal miming?”

  “There was a man,” the man in black finally said without lifting his head. His voice was low and it sounded like the inside of his throat was coated in gravel. “He kept talking too much, and pestering me with silly questions. There was only one way to shut him up.”

  “What was that?” Eleanor asked uneasily.

  “I cut out his tongue.”

  Eleanor recognized the words pretty clearly as a threat. She scooted back to the other side of the bench. The man still hadn’t lifted his head. At the sound of his voice, Brendan and Cordelia had stopped arguing and now were standing in front of the stranger in black clothes.

  “You can’t talk to our little sister that way,” Brendan said, but his voice cracked with fear.

  “I can do whatever I please,” the man said.

  “Yeah, well . . . no . . . no, you really can’t,” Brendan said, struggling to come up with a better comeback. “Or shouldn’t, anyway. I guess it is a free country and all that . . . but it’s not nice to threaten little girls, you know. . . .”

  “I’m not a little girl,” Eleanor said. “I can defend my own honor!”

  Brendan’s words got stuck in his throat. Because the man had finally lifted his head so they could see his face. And Brendan was too busy staring at it to talk. The man’s chin was covered in black stubble. A long, wicked scar cut right across his face from his left temple all the way down to his lower right jaw, scrambling his lips slightly along the way. He looked more like an impressionist’s portrait than a real human being. But there was a dark edge to his face that sucked all the air right out of the room. His eyes were cold and hard as if they’d never seen a single second of happiness in their thirtyish years of existence.

  “What honor?” the man said, uncrossing his arms. “You kids don’t have any honor. All you’ve done is squabble over nothing. Where’s the honor in petty arguments?”

  Cordelia finally noticed that the man didn’t have a left hand. His left arm had been severed at the elbow. His shirtsleeve was tucked into itself where the rest of his arm should have been.

  “Lefty Payne,” Cordelia said softy, recognizing that this had to be the deadly outlaw that Sheriff Abernathy had come to their house looking for the night before.

  “You heard of me?” Lefty asked.

  “We heard you’re wanted for fourteen unprovoked murders,” Brendan said, his eyes wide.

  “You always believe everything people tell you?” Lefty asked.

  “So, it’s not true then?” Eleanor asked hopefully.

  Lefty turned his head toward her.

  “No,” he said.

  “That’s a relief,” Cordelia said.

  “I’ve killed more like forty-six people, at my last count,” Lefty added darkly. “Of course, I never was too good at counting. Just playing poker and killing people.”

  A long silence followed as the three Walkers struggled to swallow, their mouths suddenly drier than a hot desert. Lefty Payne looked from Eleanor to Cordelia and finally settled his sharp gaze on Brendan.

  Brendan looked down like a scolded puppy.

  “What happened to your left arm?” Eleanor asked.

  “Eleanor!” Cordelia scolded in a harsh whisper. “That’s a rude question.”

  But Lefty didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he looked down at the spot where his hand should have been and shook his head slowly. Then he paused for a long moment, and Cordelia was certain he wasn’t going to answer.

  “As a little boy, I went to see Thomas Cooke’s traveling circus,” Lefty said. “I reached out to pet a baby elephant . . . and the little monster bit off my arm.”

  The Walkers didn’t get a chance to figure out if Lefty Payne was joking or not, because a shrill voice from the front of the jailhouse suddenly interrupted their conversation.

  “Wooo-eeee!” Sheriff Abernathy shrieked as he walked through the front door of the jailhouse. “We’ve got some good news for you!”

  His two deputies were with him. They walked over and stood in front of the iron bars. They were all grinning ear to ear as if they’d just won the lottery on a shared ticket.

  “We just got a wire telegraph from Judge Bentley,” Sheriff Abernathy said. “He gave us permission for a hangin’!”

  “We ain’t had a good hangin’ in a while,” Deputy McCoy said with a grin, eyeing the prisoners the way a chef picks out cuts of meat from the local butcher.

  Cordelia stood up with panic on her face.

  “Don’t worry,” Lefty said to her. “They mean to hang me, not you.”

  “Well, see, that’s where you’re wrong, Lefty,” Sheriff Abernathy said with a sickening grin. “Per the good Judge Bentley’s orders, at high noon we get to hang all four of you!”

  “No, that can’t be right!” Cordelia said. “There’s no way a judge would approve the execution of three children!”

  “Children?” Deputy McCoy said. “Oh, are these outlaw accomplices children?”

  “Well, let me think,” Sherriff Abernathy said, putting a hand on his chin. “They sure look and act like children, but I don’t seem to quite remember putting that little detail in our telegram to the judge. Did you put it in there, Deputy Sturgis?”

  The third deputy pulled out a little slip of paper and pretended to read it with great care.

  “Well, shoot, it does seem that we left that part out,” he finally said in mock surprise and outrage. “Our telegram just says ‘Known wanted outlaw Lefty Payne and three accomplices.’ Should we resend it to clarify?”

  They were all grinning now, clearly enjoying their little charade, while Cordelia grew more nauseous by the second.

  “Nah, I don’t see the need to waste the good folks of Williams County’s resources any further than is required,” Sheriff Abernathy said.

  “Lefty, help us,” Cordelia pleaded with the outlaw. “Tell them you don’t know us and we’ve never met before now.”

  Lefty Payne was still sitting on the bench in the jail cell. He looked undisturbed at the news of his own impending execution. In fact, he looked ready for another nap.

  “Nah,” he said. “I’d rather have some company up there on the gallows. No man wants to die alone.”

  The sheriff and his men laughed.

  “Come on, man, tell them the truth,” Brendan pleaded angrily. “We’re just kids! You can’t let them hang us for your crimes!”

  “Wouldn’t matter either way, kid,” Lefty said, pulling the hat back down over his eyes.

  Deputy McCoy fished out a pocket watch. His eyebrows rose and he smiled when he looked at it.

  “We’re just fourteen minutes from noon,” he said. “We better start getting ready!”

  All three of them turned toward the door, but stopped at the sight of a small girl standing in the entryway of the county jailhouse. She was around twelve years old with shoulder-length brown hair, a slender and pretty face with a perfect smattering of light freckles. She wore a bright yellow dress. The girl smiled at the sight of the sheriff and deputies and held up a picnic basket covered by a cloth napkin.

  “I brought y’all some fresh-baked biscuits!” Adie said brightly.

  “Well, ain’t that sweet!” Sheriff Abernathy said. “Look here, fellas, little Adlaih Stoffirk has brought us some biscuits. You know how I love biscuits. But, I got to go find us some rope, so you two enjoy. I’ll have one when I get back. Excuse me, darlin’.”

  He stepped past Adie and then left the jailhouse. Meanwhile, the two deputies swarmed Adie like bees on honey. They dug their dirty hands into the basket and grabbed two biscuits each, shoving them into their mouths.

  It sort of reminded Brendan of the national hot dog eating contest that aired on ESPN every Fourth of July. It was always disgusting to watch, yet impossible to look away for some reason. The two deputies jammed the biscuits down their gullets with speed that would have made the All-Time World Hot Dog–Eatin
g Champion jealous.

  The three Walkers watched in horror as the innocent-looking little girl who had fed them just a few hours earlier, now fed their soon-to-be executioners treats just minutes before the hanging. It somehow cemented the reality of their horrible situation in a way that hadn’t quite sunk in before that.

  Several minutes later, however, the two deputies slumped down on the floor as if they’d been clubbed on their noggins with tire irons.

  “What just happened?” Eleanor asked.

  Cordelia got to the point. “Did you just poison the deputies?”

  “Not poisoned, exactly,” Adie said cheerily as she un-hooked keys from Deputy McCoy’s belt. “My daddy’s the county doctor. I just borrowed some medications that he uses to help patients sleep.”

  “Why are you helping us?” Brendan asked.

  Adie hurried over to the cell with a key ring that held just four keys. “I saw what happened,” she said, trying the first key. “How they arrested you for basically nothing. It’s not right. Plus, I hate the sheriff. He murdered my dog, Duffy, in cold blood. One day I was walking through town with Duffy, and Sheriff Abernathy reached down to pet him and he growled. A tiny growl, nothing too threatening. He always could sense evil in people—which is why I suspect he growled in the first place. But the sheriff took offense . . . and shot poor Duffy right there in the street.”

  Eleanor’s eyes widened.

  “That’s the most horrible story I’ve ever heard,” she said as she rushed out of the cell. “Thank you for saving us.”

  She gave Adie a big hug, in spite of her being a relative stranger.

  “I suspect you would have done the same for me,” Adie said. “Now, we have to hurry; the sheriff will be back soon. Wait . . . is he with you too?”

  She pointed at Lefty Payne.

  He was still seated calmly on the bench as if nothing at all unusual were happening. But he did have his head up again and he looked at them intently.

  “Not really?” Brendan said, unsure of what the truth was precisely.