Owl Dance

by David Lee Summers

  “We are coming in near Seattle’s waterfront. Are your men ready for the landing?”

  “They are,” reported Beretetski. “Legion has shown us the location of City Hall based on archived maps. We will head directly there and report when it’s under our control.”

  Again Gorloff felt both grateful and annoyed Legion provided information so freely. “Very good,” he said. “I’ll watch operations from the gondola.” He turned to leave, but paused. “Be careful. It will be a tricky landing.”

  “Legion has informed us of that, sir,” said the colonel.

  Gorloff pursed his lips, thrust his hands behind his back and strode back to the gondola at the front of the ship. As he descended the ladder, he heard Captain Makarov giving the orders to open the hatches and lower the ladders. Gorloff stepped toward one of the windows and watched as the troops made their way down the swinging rope ladders onto the pier. The soldiers were all nimble as they climbed down and dropped to the slick wooden pier. Not one of them made a misstep or had to be helped by a colleague. The general felt a swelling of pride at their ability.

  “We provide motor feedback to the men, helping them coordinate their eyes, arms and legs,” explained Legion. “Are you still sorry we provide information to all?”

  I am grateful for this aspect of your help, Gorloff admitted reluctantly.

  The general saw the soldiers march past the waterfront marketplace and up into the streets of the city. As they marched, Legion kept Gorloff informed of their progress. The general had to admit this was an aspect of Legion’s involvement he also liked. In other battles he’d overseen, he had to wait for runners from the front line to give him information. Now he knew the vendors and shop owners on the waterfront were merely confused by the sight of the airships and the men landing on the pier.

  Further into the city, some of the people considered whether they should resist the soldiers they saw marching through the streets. However, the soldiers’ trim black coats with silver buttons were not entirely unlike the coats worn by U.S. Army soldiers. It would seem many people wondered if the soldiers wandering through the streets were simply Americans.

  Half an hour after the soldiers left, Legion informed Gorloff they had taken City Hall. The general nodded satisfaction and then made his way back to the main hatchway. Despite his size and age, he found he descended the ladder just as deftly as the soldiers.

  “Have I become more agile, or are you helping me?” asked Gorloff aloud.

  “We are helping you just as we helped the soldiers,” affirmed Legion.

  “I am grateful, old friend.”

  There was a flutter, like laughter from the back of Gorloff’s mind. “We appreciate the sentiment, but we have known you for the merest instant of our existence. We are glad you consider us friends, but we are hardly long acquaintances in our opinion.”

  “Be that as it may,” said Gorloff. “I do find myself wondering why you didn’t help me up the mooring post in St. Petersburg.”

  “Ah, but we did help you then,” said Legion.

  With a grunt, the general strode toward the marketplace. When he judged he was a safe distance from the airship, he retrieved a cigar and lit it, savoring the taste and the smell.

  An old Indian woman wearing a headscarf and voluminous skirts rose from behind a table. She shuffled over to Gorloff on unsteady legs and eyed him suspiciously. “What is going on here? What are these great balloons adorned with owls?”

  “We are Russians, old woman, and we are claiming what is rightfully ours.” He dismissed her with a wave. “Now tend to your wares, we mean you no harm.”

  She opened her mouth to say more, but was interrupted when one of the Russian soldiers approached and saluted Gorloff. “Sir, we have taken City Hall. Would you care to accompany us as we raise our flag?”

  Gorloff took a puff on the cigar and nodded. He followed the young soldier through the streets of the small northwestern city.

  “The woman is following us,” reported Legion. “She is keeping a discreet distance and remaining in the shadows, but we sense her presence.”

  What matter is she to us? asked Gorloff silently.

  “She is one of the indigenous people of North America. Some of our components are in her mind, listening to her thoughts. She sees herself as part of the ruling clan of this area.”

  Gorloff shook his head. That doesn’t matter. The Indians no longer control this land. They have already been subjugated by the white man.

  “White man?” asked Legion. “We have come across that designation. An interesting distinction as you are all descended from common ancestors and all of your skin tones are merely controlled by the amount of brown pigmentation in your cells.”

  “Nonsense!” growled Gorloff around the cigar.

  The soldier escorting the general looked around. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

  “Nothing,” said the general. “It’s not important.”

  Finally, the soldier and general arrived at Seattle’s city hall. It was an unpretentious building constructed of wood from the surrounding lumber mills. Noting the general’s arrival, Colonel Berestetski ordered the lowering of the American flag.

  A balding man with a bushy white beard stood nearby. “What’s going on here? This is outrageous! Who’s in charge?” His words had a distinct German accent.

  Gorloff stepped up to the man. Legion informed him the man was Seattle’s mayor, Bailey Gatzert. “Mr. Gatzert, I assure you there is no danger. We are bringing the western half of America under the fold of the Russian Empire in order to preserve future generations.”

  “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard!” cried Gatzert.

  Gorloff instructed Legion to enter the mayor’s mind. Legion replied he was already there, working his way to a point where he could present images without inspiring the madness he had during his early encounters with humans.

  Three of the soldiers carried simple instruments—a violin, a viola, and a set of drums. They brought them out as a soldier removed the American flag and then attached the Russian flag to the line. Colonel Berestetski ordered the raising of the Russian flag. The soldiers with instruments played “God Save the Czar.”

  Gorloff flicked the ash off his cigar, placed the remainder in his pocket, then saluted as the flag reached the top of the mast. Once the ceremony was complete, Gorloff looked around at Mayor Gatzert. The mayor had relaxed and was nodding. A slight smile appeared on his face. “I see what you mean. We don’t dare let the world stay on the destructive course it was on.”

  The general reached out his hand and Mayor Gatzert shook it. “It is not our intention to interfere with the running of your city. We merely need a place to billet four dozen soldiers.”

  “That can certainly be arranged,” said the mayor.

  “The Native American woman has retreated,” said Legion in the back of Gorloff’s mind.

  Gorloff shook his head. That is of no importance to me.

  << >>

  Stepping through the gates of Fort McRae, Ramon was pleased to see a dozen cows in a pen. The beef had been delivered as promised. He pressed onward to the base commander’s office and knocked on the door. A moment later, he heard a muffled “come in.” The former sheriff stepped through the door and saw Major Johnson staring out the room’s lone window with his hands behind his back. Ramon cleared his throat.

  “Ah, Mr. Morales,” said Johnson, looking over his shoulder.

  “I see the cowboys made it here with the livestock and have moved on.” Ramon removed his hat and stood awkwardly holding it. He wasn’t quite sure whether he was invited in to sit or if he should stay where he was. “I think you’ll find there won’t be any more interference with the cattle drives this direction.”

  “That last part remains to be seen, but I’m hopeful you’re right.” The major turned around and faced Ramon. “What can I do for you?”

  “You promised to help me clear my name in Socorro.” Ramon’s grip on the brim of h
is hat tightened. “I was wondering if we could look into that.”

  The major sighed and shook his head. “I’m sorry to say that’s gone plumb out of my mind.” He sat behind his desk and indicated that Ramon should also take a seat. “Fact of the matter is, even in the best of times, what I promised isn’t easy. Now with these Russian airships getting closer, I’m not sure what I can do for you. I think we’re going to receive marching orders any day now.”

  “Has something new happened?” Ramon’s own problems were forgotten in the wake of the major’s concern.

  The major nodded. “The Russians have taken Seattle and Tacoma up in Washington Territory without a single shot fired.” He held up a telegram. “I don’t know whether the people up there were just too scared to act or what. They left a contingent and the airships were last seen moving to the southwest. That means they may become our problem real soon.” The major took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m sorry, Ramon. I’m not sure if there’s anything I can do to help you until this crisis has passed.”

  Ramon closed his eyes. After a moment he opened them, then set his hat on his head. “Is there anything I can do to help you, Major?”

  The major’s smile was sad. “Let me think on that.”

  Standing, Ramon tipped his hat. “I’ll be at Eduardo’s if you need me.”

  The major stood and shook Ramon’s hand. “Thanks and I’ll let you know if things change and I can help more.”

  Ramon went back to the fort’s gate and retrieved his horse. Climbing on, he rode to Palomas Hot Springs. At Eduardo’s, he led the horse around back to the stables and brushed it down while it munched on fresh hay. Giving the horse a final pat, he left the stable, went in the house, and hung his hat by the door.

  Inside, Fatemeh was sweeping the floor. “Any luck at the fort?”

  Ramon shook his head and dropped into a chair. “No. The major’s been too preoccupied with the Russian airships. Apparently they landed troops in Seattle and Tacoma and they’re making their way to the southwest.”

  Fatemeh leaned the broom against the wall and sat down next to Ramon. “What do you think this means?”

  “I don’t know.” He took Fatemeh’s hand. “I figure we have three choices. We can stay here and wait out the crisis or we can go to Estancia and spend some time at my mom’s. It’s so far away from everything we might be safe there.”

  “What’s the third choice?” asked Fatemeh.

  “We could go back to California. I could get my old job back.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t say I’m happy about going back to California. It seems like everywhere we went, we ran into some kind of prejudice. Even Mr. Kelly assumed you weren’t honorable just because of the color of your skin.”

  Ramon sighed. “The problem with staying here is that Dalton or his people are likely to catch up with me sometime soon.”

  “We’ve been here at Eduardo’s over a week and we haven’t seen any sign of this Larissa Crimson person. If she were out there, she would have struck by now.”

  “You think Billy’s warning was exaggerated?” Ramon’s eyebrows came together.

  “I don’t know what to think.” She moved her chair closer. “All I know is that events seem to be moving out of our control.”

  Ramon found himself looking into Fatemeh’s irresistible green eyes. Just as he leaned in to kiss her, the door opened. Eduardo stood there, holding a newspaper.

  “Stagecoach just came through. I picked up a copy of the Mesilla Valley News. Your friend Luther Duncan has a story about those Russian airships.” Eduardo laid the paper on the table.

  Fatemeh picked it up and read the article on the front page. “It says here, Chief Seattle’s daughter Angeline saw the whole thing. The Russians marched right up to City Hall without firing a shot and raised their flag. Mayor Gatzert protested at first, but then his countenance suddenly became calm and he welcomed the invaders.”

  Ramon sat back and folded his arms. “That makes no sense. Where were the police? Aren’t there any soldiers up in Washington Territory?”

  “There aren’t as many forts up there as there are down here,” said Eduardo. “I don’t know about the police.”

  Ramon took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I think I need some fresh air. I’m going for a walk.”

  “Do you want me to come with you?” asked Fatemeh.

  “No, I’ll just be a few minutes.” Ramon put on his glasses, stood, then retrieved his hat from beside the door and stepped outside. He looked around at the colorful rocks near Eduardo’s home and the sparse buildings. A few high, thin clouds were spread across the deep, blue sky like a gauzy shroud. He took a deep breath. He didn’t want to leave New Mexico again if he could help it. His only fear about going to Estancia was concern he would get there and find his mother really didn’t like Fatemeh after all. He wasn’t sure what he would do then. Would Fatemeh agree to marry him without her approval? Did that even matter knowing Fatemeh’s own parents wouldn’t give their approval?

  Ramon shook his head and stepped off the porch. As Fatemeh said, events seemed outside their control and he was having a hard time knowing the right thing to do.

  Just as he turned, he heard someone cock a six-gun’s hammer. He looked up and found himself facing a woman with a flat-topped coachman’s hat pointing a gun at his chest.

  “Come with me real peaceable like.”

  “Larissa Crimson, I presume,” said Ramon.

  She tipped her hat with her free hand.

  << >>

  Fatemeh stood so she could finish the sweeping. As she grabbed the broom, she glanced out the window. A woman pointed a gun at Ramon. She spoke a few words to him, then led him away. Silently, Fatemeh summoned Eduardo to the window.

  “Do you suppose it could be that bounty hunter?” he whispered.

  “Who else could it be?”

  “What can we do? If we go out there, she’s liable to shoot him.”

  “We need help.” She looked out the window again. Ramon and the woman had disappeared from view. Grinding her teeth, Fatemeh turned and led the way through the house to the back. They retrieved a pair of horses from the stable and rode to the front of the house. Just as they reached the road, they saw the woman ride by on the seat of a modified English hansom cab. She tipped her hat and snapped the reins. The woman’s cab shot off in a cloud of dust.

  “Ramon must be in that buggy,” said Eduardo. “Do we go after her?”

  “What would we do if we caught her? Neither of us is armed.” She shook her head. “There’s only one thing we can do. We need to go to Fort McRae and ask for Major Johnson’s help.” Fatemeh snapped her own reins and took the most direct overland route to the fort. Eduardo followed close behind.

  When they arrived at the fort half an hour later, they saw men in the courtyard forming up in ranks. A guard standing beside the open gate challenged them. “Who goes there?”

  Eduardo and Fatemeh drew up their reins and brought the horses to a stop. “I’m Fatemeh Karimi. I have urgent business with Major Johnson.”

  “I’m under strict orders to let no one into the fort, ma’am.” The guard stood a little straighter, but kept his rifle in front of his chest. “Sorry.”

  Eduardo leaned over, as though trying to get a better look at the activity in the courtyard. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t say, sir.”

  Just then, Fatemeh caught sight of the major. Undaunted by the guard’s gun, she snapped the reins on her horse and darted forward. “Major Johnson!” she called.

  “Ma’am, halt!” called the guard from the gate.

  The major held up his hand. “Miss Karimi, I have no time for a social call. I’ve just received orders. We’re marching to Denver.”

  “Right now?” Fatemeh climbed down from the horse and looked into Johnson’s eyes. “Major, Ramon has just been captured by a bounty hunter. You told him you’d keep him safe. What can you do about it
?”

  The major looked to the ground and shook his head. “Nothing, I’m afraid. It’s too bad. Mr. Morales is a good man. I could really use him…” The major turned and took two steps away, but paused. Fatemeh thought he must be recalling where he was going before she had interrupted him.

  Spitting a word in Persian that would have made her Mohammedan parents blush, Fatemeh put her foot in the horse’s stirrup.

  Major Johnson turned around. “Bounty hunter, you say?”

  Fatemeh looked over the horse’s saddle at the major and nodded.

  << >>

  Larissa Crimson was making good time on her way back to Socorro. She was pleased with the prospect of the reward she would receive for Ramon Morales, and also content he hadn’t put up a fight. Of course, she got the drop on him while he was unarmed. The problem was, the more she learned about Morales, the more she began to question whether she was actually doing a just service by taking him to Randolph Dalton.

  According to Dalton, Ramon ran away from his duties as Sheriff of Socorro. That certainly seemed worthy of bringing a man in for justice. However, Billy McCarty told her Morales left the job because Dalton and his people tried to kill Morales’s girlfriend—the Persian woman he traveled with. The only thing Dalton said about the Persian woman was that she was a troublemaker who caused problems at one of the mines he owned. Larissa knew Billy McCarty was not the most trustworthy person around, but according to him, Dalton hired men to beat Morales to death and Morales’s girlfriend helped Billy in a time of need.

  Larissa sighed. She really wasn’t sure what to believe. The truth seemed complicated and she’d be glad to get her money from Dalton and be done with the whole affair.

  She decided to plan for nightfall. There was no way she could drive her coach all the way from Palomas Hot Springs to Socorro in one day. Where could she make camp? The coach was modified to be enclosed. Morales was locked inside, and she’d provided a chamber pot, some water and a good supply of food. He’d be fine. She’d sleep just a short time to make his confinement as brief as possible.