Two Western tales from me. July 13

#saturdayscene July 13  

Last week I didn’t post a SaturdayScene for I was busy again with the new house. But this week I can do one. This one is a bit different for it has two short Western stories. One is part of a story set I will be Indie publishing whenever I can get the cover done. Set titled Deputy Marshal Gray Dobson. I finally found one that isn’t bad even not quite what I wanted. But I have spent hours on it and decided to take this one. Anyway, I will also be doing a second Western set once I find them all. I thought I had a file with they all in it but so fat nothing. So Here are two Western tales. One with Marshall Dobson showing he uses his brains not just his sixgun. The other is the first Western I wrote many years ago. Revised half a dozen times as I learned more about how to write. 

       Deputy Marshall Dobson finds a Burnt out building.

      Gray Dobson looked the burnt building over. Small tendrils of smoke still drifted toward from two placed. It sat by itself a number of yards from the end of the town. From what he could see of the unburnt wood, no one had painted it which meant some of it looked while a good percentage had a blacken charcoal color.

        He liked the angle better from higher than ground level, so he stayed on his horse to study it. His legs though were tired from the long ride to this town.

       It looked like the building had two storefronts. This half of the roof of this section had collapsed. The air still had a strong scent of burning wood, so he wouldn’t be surprised if something still smoldered in there. 

        A wagon rolled by behind him. He heard the horse hoofs, and wheels turn. The townspeople would be up by now with their daily routines. Someone walked on the wooden walkway. That would make it twenty feet away from the burnt building in front of him.

     Another breath and he almost coughed, ash still drifted in the air. Water would be good. 

     After the drink from his canteen, he looked at the building again. The town’s people had done a good job in saving the part in the back that was a different store. He figured that some of them must have had some training. At least a couple of lectures. This section would have to be completely rebuilt though, possibly the whole thing, but he thought they could save the rear store. The rest of the town hadn’t been touched by the fire since this building sat so far away from the others. 

      Dobson looked to his left. The main part of Freshwell consisted of eleven stores on one side of the street with ten on the other. Each block appeared to be one long building but he could make out newer wood on the end store. They must have added to this one to the original construction when the population grew. Now they had two general stores, one much smaller than the other. It could be new, he thought. A fairly large saloon took up space in the middle of one side. He could make out three other buildings that sat by themselves not connected to either side. From their spacing the town planners might have wanted a street there to go east eventually.

     The blacksmith had been built far down the road in the other direction. He could still see it and hear the pounding of the blacksmith, smell the hot metal when he rode by it. But this building may have been the border of the town in this end. 

      Gray looked down at the dirt. One bad thing was that the town’s people had cluttered up the dirt of the street with their wagons, horses and feet: covering and marking out any tracks left by those who had done this. But it couldn’t be helped, the fire had to have been put out. He rode around the building and studied the dirt back of it then came back around from the opposite end.  

      The building didn’t look like a smithy or a saloon, which left a store of some type, a church or even a school house. The town looked large enough for one. He had ridden through Freshwell three times the last year but knew nothing about it even though he had met with the Sheriff as a common curtasy. He was a Marshal passing though his area after all. They had a nice size jail, larger than he thought they needed, but he may make use of it this trip.

      He looked around again. The Inn was actually larger than the saloon. It had rooms on a second story and a kitchen plus storage, he assumed, in the back, and four rooms on the street level. They were bigger and more expensive or so he had been told when he stopped for lunch one of those three times. 

     As he recalled from when he rode by, there had been nothing in this building to start a fire except for a wood burning stove. He didn’t recall ever seeing the pipe that exhausted it sticking out of the roof. Now, however, one lay bent, twisted and black with soot, on top of a pile of smoldering wood. Part of the pipe looked darker than another part. In fact this whole section of the building looked in worse shape than the other sections.

     He shook his head and wondered if someone had really started the blaze. With that thought, he looked closer. Why would anyone burn this building especially if it had been a school? Than again maybe he was just buying trouble. He shrugged, that was his job. He wouldn’t be a US Marshal if he didn’t like trouble: creating and finishing it for those who started it. Now though he he hadn’t smelled any kerosene or alcohol when he rode around the building. 

     Fires could be caused by accidents, acts of carelessness, or drunks, as well as on purpose. However it started this one was a shame especially with the loose of books and supplies inside, if this was a school. It could take months to get new supplies and the cost for shipping them out here would make it much harder to get them. 

      He swung his horse around and headed for the Sheriff’s office. This fire pricked his curiosity. 

      It didn’t take him long to pass the other end of the block and to approach the jail. It sat by itself about ten feet from the end of the walkway, which supported his idea of this being a street corner. He looked round him to see if anyone carried a gun near him. The three people he saw with any weapon of any type, looked like upstanding citizens which probably meant that the town was fairly safe, but he would stay on his toes. All it took was one person who didn’t like US Marshals, or was drunk. 

     The street had its share of road apples, some of which smelled and looked fresh, which meant it about average horses here. It looked like Freshwell needed someone to clean the street once a day though. He shrugged that really wasn’t his concern though. Once he got to the jail he tied his horse to the railing and stepped up to the wood sidewalk it also had. 

     He glanced in the other direction and noticed that the larger general store rested at this end of the line of stores. That could be to help farmers and ranchers with wagons load better.   

    Dobson nodded to the  two men who stood outside of the Sheriff's. They didn’t look like trouble, just as if they waited for someone. He opened the door and closed it fast for a wind followed him in. Inside, he saw a wide room with two desks each with a new looking, comfortable, padded chair behind it and two half way comfortable chairs on the other side. A portrait hung on the wall of the President of the United States and one of an older lady. She was dressed in a very nice, blue dress. A local person he thought. Maybe she had been a rich widow who had paid for the building of the office. 

    Two doorways led to the back. He thought he could see bars through one doorway. The other might lead to the outhouse and/or to a kitchen near by. Or to another cell for certain types  of prisoners. 

    The sheriff, Tony, a tall skinny, older, weather beaten fellow with shoulder length brown hair, stood talking to a nicely dressed man. The man smelled of cigar smoke, an expensive brand the Marshal thought. He must have paid a pretty penny to have some shipped here. He knew from experience not to get too close to the man when he blew smoke out, it could be strong enough to taste.

    The Sheriff said, “We will catch the person who set the fire.”

     The man said, “Why would anyone set fire to a school house?”

    “I don’t know maybe they didn’t like that their children have to go—we have a couple of those type people in this town—or maybe they had an argument about what should be taught. Could even that they got the wrong end of that building and it was meant for that new bookstore.  It’s hard to see the burr under a man’s blanket at times. But I want to speak to the new teacher and see what she has to say. Miss Sanderson has been upset over certain details and ”

     The man said, “I know that there are citizens that disagree with store just to sell books half of which would be penny dreadfuls, I am not all that excited about it myself but to burn it? That is crazy.”

    The Marshal thought, good I was right. 

    Sheriff Tony said, “Some people are that crazy. Isn’t that right Marshal?”

      The two turned to him and even as his eyes widen. He thought he would had wait until they were done with their business, but this opened the door.

     The Sheriff said, “This is Marshall Dobson. He has been in these parts for a few years. Marshall this is John Whitmore.”

     Dobson nodded to John and said, “Yes, there are crazy people out there. I wouldn’t have as much of a job if there weren’t. I was sent here to go after a train robber. However, sometimes it isn’t a person that causes the problem. It is also my job to make sure we know the difference.”

     Whitmore raised his eyebrows and the Sheriff looked puzzled and a touch irritated. 

    “I looked at the remains of the school. I believe it was just an accident.”

    “What?” The sheriff said.

    The man said, “We looked it over ourselves.”

   “I thought you had. But was it before sunrise?” 

    “Just after the sun started up.”

   “After a night of fighting the fire?”

   Whitmore nodded. He still had bits of ash on his pants, so he may have really helped.

     The Sheriff said, “Where are you going with this?”

    “I saw that part of the chimney for the stove looked blocked. I think that is where the fire started.”

     The man spoke before the Sheriff could even he open his mouth, “Someone could have blocked that on purpose hoping that would happen.”

    Dobson nodded, “Yes, someone could have, but by the looks I still go with my theory that some animal, or other built a nest in there. I know of a few times when that has happened. It has been warm the last few months and the weather just started to turn. I suspect that it was just carelessness. No one thought to inspect the stovepipe.” 

     The man nodded with a thoughtful look on his face. The Sheriff didn’t look convinced though.

    “I can explain what took my thoughts down that road. The stovepipe has a deeper burn in one section about halfway. You might even find some cooked little ones; rats or squirrels in the pipe.”

    The Sheriff and the man had a disgusted look on their faces but the other Lawman said, “Come to think of it I thought I smelled meat cooking. Maybe you are right after all.”

     They went outside to the burned building and the Marshal showed them where  he thought the fire started and the pipe. They both looked convinced when he finished.

     The man said, “I believe you’re right. You are one smart Marshal. No wonder you have a good repetition in these parts.”

    “Thank you. As I said it is my job to figure out when it was a person and when it wasn’t and to protect people that are innocent.”

     Whitmore said, “That is a good way to see your job, Marshall.”

    Sheriff Tony said, “I’m glad we will not be bothering someone who is innocent. And I will declare that every business inspect their stovepipes to make sure that doesn’t happen again.”

     Dobson nodded and after some more talking he said, “I will take my leave now. I need to get a room for the night so I can get an early start to go after one who is bad.” He thought, even if the rooms are costly it should be worth it for one night.

    They each nodded and shook his hand and he left. He got his horse and on the way to the town’s corral past the blacksmith shop he gave himself a small smile. It felt good to think through something like that and to know that an innocent person would not be questioned for something they did not do. 

  

The end

              

Now for Not All Good Deeds Are Punished.

     Bill strode over to his horse, with long, quick steps. He looked in his late thirties, and wore a light yellow long sleeved shirt and gray trousers. No gun weighed down his hip, he didn’t need one here-most days. 

    He stopped near the railing in front of the town’s hardware store, his eyes narrowed. Voices from a commotion had attracted his attention. It looked just like the same situation as in the last town he had lived in. He breathed in, snorted. The air was filled with, dust, road apples, spilt grain and the flowers that grew near each store front. A cold beer would be good right now to wash the dust out of his mouth, and the horse dropping smell out of his nose. A quick glance showed him the town, he liked Wardsville. However it looked like he may have to move on. 

     With a sigh, Bill pulled a rifle out of its holster, which rested on the side of his horse, and turned. He hoped he wouldn’t get into trouble again, but he knew it wouldn’t stop him. He cocked the weapon while still in the turn.   

     After two long steps with the rifle aimed from his hip, he said, “Back off.”

     A young man, dressed in an undershirt and denim pants, with his hands on a woman, looked up. That man’s brown hair was very short and his eyes were bloodshot. Even though her yellow dress looked very proper he still pawed her like he thought she wore a low cut barmaid’s outfit. Bill knew her husband was out of town for a couple of months. 

     Everyone froze for a moment. He felt a breeze on his face and could smell the man from here. He must smell like a wagon load of broken whisky bottles to her. 

     The young man said, “You must not know who I am.”

     The first man rolled his eyes, “That is my comment. I’ve been here a week, but obviously you don’t know who I am. I don’t care who you are. I know what you are. A snake in the grass. Now act like a gentleman, a true man, and get your hands off of her. Her husband won’t be back for another month and he won’t be happy if you mess with his wife.”

     “I am a man, you horse droppings, more than you.”

     “Not the way you are acting now. You’re acting like a spoiled snake. Now remove your hands!”

      He pressed his finger on the trigger. The other man let go of the woman.

     Bill said, “Now miss, give him what he deserves-slap him.”

     She looked surprised, but at the same time like she wanted to carry out the order. The younger man looked shocked. When the woman moved he stepped back from her-out of arm’s length.

      The brown haired man looked at the man with the rifle again, swallowed and said, “Hey, I didn’t mean anything. Just being friendly. I just thought she might be missing her man.”

     The man with the gun cocked his head to the side, for the other man mumbled and slurred his words. It took him a second to figure out what he had said.

     Bill said, “She probably is, but she sure ain’t missing you, now leave!”

     The drunk glared at Bill, but after a moment walked away. Bill watched him until he went around a building. Three moments later he came back out on a horse. After another glare at Bill, he rode away. 

     The woman half-ran to the man with the gun, but stopped a few feet away.

     “Thank you... I don’t know you but I’ve seen you around the past week but Dan, my husband, will want to shake your hand and have you over for dinner when he gets back.”

     Bill tipped his hat and said, “I am called Bill-no, not Wild, that’s another Bill. I could always use a home cooked meal, fresh cornbread is mighty tasty, but I didn’t do this for thanks.”

     The store owner came up, wiped his hands on the white apron he wore. Bill tensed and waited for an angry tone like the last time he chased a rich man’s son away from a woman. The man, however, reached out his hand.

     “I want to shake your hand, Bill and add my thanks. She’s a good costumer and a good citizen of the town. Toby shouldn’t have done that to her.”

     He paused for a moment than said, “If you need anything come on in to my store, I will give you half off for the next couple of days. We don’t want that type of thing happening in our town, or to be known for being a town afraid of wealthy citizens.”

     Other townspeople came by to say how much they appreciated his actions. Even Jim, the sheriff came by, probably when he saw the citizens hanging around. It turned out he had been getting a shave during the incident.

     After his explanation he said, “Thanks, Bill for taking care of young Toby. He isn’t usually that bad. If I had seen he was drunk earlier, I would have put him in a cell to sleep it off. He’s dad will deal with him. He doesn’t like his sons behaving that way in public. He may make him apologize to Mrs.  Tanner.”

     Bill felt his mouth drop and his eyes go wide surprise, but he said, “Is that all?”

     The expression on the sheriffs face changed to businesslike; oh oh, here it comes, thought Bill.

     Jim said, “Yeah, there is one more thing. I could use a deputy, this town is growing like a weed. I’ve watched you around town. I saw how you act around other people and after today I believe you would make a good deputy. I think I can convince the town council to spring for the pay for one. Probably only half of what I get, but your bullets will be free. On top of that if the townspeople like you they might just give you a free meal, or a cut rate on hardware, just don’t expect it all the time.”

      Bill nodded, even as awe filled his heart. He stood there

to let his heart adjust to what he had just heard, then with an effort he nodded, smiled, and said, “Yeah, that sounds good.”

      They shook hands and the sheriff said, “Good, I’ll make the rounds and talk to everyone. Come by tomorrow morning and I will give you a badge.”

      Bill nodded again still in a good shock. As the sheriff walked away Bill felt the breeze again, smelled the street-even the fresh road apples didn’t smell so bad-and smiled. He thought, yeah, this is a good town.

                         The end

#westerns #freestory #indie #funread #freestuff #fires #shortstories #action #drunks 

Four SaturdayScenes tales-one for Mother's Day May 13

May 13 Happy Mother’s Day for those who are mothers, even to those from countries that celebrate it on other dates, or who don’t celebrate it at all. You are all needed and appreciated. I found one story that deals with motherhood. It is a mini Urban Fantasy story with an older mage.



Three of these stories are the general fiction tales I promised I would do and one is the motherhood story I just referenced.


I start with that one. The second story is one I have posted before. I think the next two are new to here. The third one is from my “My Stories Inspired by Pictures” collection. Many people liked it but even if you don’t check out that collection. Currently 16 stories of adventure, fun, weird Western, fantasy and science fiction. The last story here was suppose to be kinda of humorous. 3,549 words total



Snow Duchess

Boy, it was cold. As I get older the more cold it became. Even walking among a forest of large trees didn’t help much with the wind. At least the sky looked blue instead of gray.
I needed to meet with her though. She had called, said she wanted help. The Snow Duchess had helped me with the local yeti and layer when I was trapped in a very bad snow storm.
For those two reasons, and because I’m a nice guy, I found myself traipsing through the snow, ice and wind of the back country of Canada. Did I say it was cold? My eyebrows’ color changed to white when my sweat froze.
I wore thermals, thick pants and a shirt along with a fur parka made for this weather but still-cold. I could have tricked some warmth around me, but I didn’t know what she wanted. I might need all of my strength.
The only sounds were my snowshoes crunching the surface of the snow. That would mean I might be able to hear a bear or a family of wolves run through it toward me.
After a short rest I still breathed hard. As I said, I am old. The air smelled cold and I tasted it when I sucked in a large lungful of air.
I figured she was in trouble but I hoped she didn’t want to get pregnant again. Last time Tony did the honors but it didn’t work out well. First of all he evidently had problems because of how cold she is-physically that is. Second and third were reasons he didn’t want to talk about. And neither did she. And finally I just don’t have sex with any woman who bats their eyelashes at me. That goes especially with producing a child I would not know, nor be able to have, at least, some influence on their raising.
I came out of a line of trees and saw a large snow covered clearing. It could be a meadow in summer. I could make out the trees on the other side. There at midpoint stood three figures. A young woman, a large husky and a smaller dog I couldn’t be sure of.
The woman was too young to be the Snow Duchess. In fact she looked to be significantly under twenty. I blinked for she looked about the same number of years from when I left Tony here. So he had gotten her pregnant after all.
Even though modestly covered all the way she wore less than I did, which meant that the snow and wind did not bother her. She was pretty even from this distance-more so than her mother who was on the lower end of pretty. I wondered if something had happened to her mother and that it had been this woman who called me.
I sent out a probe of energy. Yeah, she had the same reading as her mother, almost that is. But wait that husky. I blinked again, no wonder it was so big. I already knew she could become any snow creature she wanted to, which is how she gotten me out of that storm.
The dog looked at me, eye to eye. Ohhh, she wanted my help to pass on the power and authority to her daughter. I nodded, I could do that. It meant that I would have to go out there though. She chuckled.
With a sigh, I walked out to where they stood and officiated the correct ceremony which consisted of mostly the saying of certain vows and laying a hand on both at the same time to transfer the power. Even though a different type of power than I had and more of it, I knew how to do it safely. Safely to me that is. I touched them both, the Snow Duchess produced enough cold to go through my glove on that hand. I had problems concentrating and when I allowed the power in nothing happened. Her head spun my way and I think she growled. I glared back at her. One failing did not mean a total failure, but I realized that this had to be done now. She was sacrificing her position and most of her power for her daughter, not only for her retirement
I managed to get it right the second time and the ceremony worked. Afterwards I realized that some of it had stayed with me. I wasn’t sure how it would effect me. Make me stronger? Make me younger again, more able to handle the cold-I would appreciate that last more than anything.
The young woman smiled, said thanks and promised to help me when I needed it. I knew she meant couple of large things.
I smiled and left to get back to someplace warm.

end


Mind Blob


I sat in the small chair they allowed me, next to my bed. No padding under my rear, or on the arms or back, so no occupant could chew on it. I wouldn’t do that, just the thought dry stuffing filled with sweat and grim made his mouth go dry. However soon after I was placed her I had heard that some in here have done. I was dressed even though a bit warm in here. Voices and steps outside in the hallway drew my attention, but it wasn’t time yet. Then I will out of this room with its light blue and pink wallpaper.
That dream came again last night. I wish I knew where my subconscious came up with the idea: a dark blob, with uneven sides, with thicker sections here and there, and some missing spaces. Almost like a solid fog at night. It’s taller than I am and wider than my bed is long. It’s not a nightmare because I’m not afraid since it just sits there double my reach away. I have had that dream almost every night for the last three months. At first I was scared; woke up sweating, even though the air is cool, with a half yell, but it doesn’t do anything. I just watch it. Its shape changes a bit in every dream, but as I can figure out that’s just my subconscious adding a dimension to it. I think I know what the blacker areas are but not the empty spots. Areas of my life not effected by it? That would be good. I had to fight my reaction to it for eight months but it looks like I have it at bay. If it touches me, I get confused and usually freeze without knowing what to do next, sometimes I set out to do something that doesn’t need doing.
A glance at the clock showed that I better get ready; my wife is coming, with our two kids, to pick me up and take me home. It will be nice to get away from the odors in here. They try to keep them down but vomit, piss and cleaning fluids are always in the background.
It’s been a rough eight months, especially on Tammy. I’m glad she is still there. My recovery would be rougher without her.
I hear other patients walking up and down the hallway outside. I never did that, but I can see why some would. I had breakfast already, which I won’t miss. I hope we can go out to dinner tonight to celebrate, but Judy probably will want to stay home and get used to us being together again. That would be fine, maybe I can talk her into ordering pizza delivery. The food here is enough and eatable, but it’s not all that good.
After a few minutes I again make sure my few things are really packed and ready. Finally Doctor Jim comes to the door and tells me my wife is here. I shake his hand, thank him for his help. He tells me I helped myself and that he just directed me.
He takes me out to the lounge. There they are. I couldn’t help myself, I rush to Judy and hug her. Her body feels so good in my arms, her hands on my back are even better because of what they mean. I saw her only last week, but this is different. I hug my two kids. My eight year old daughter isn’t too sure about me.
I say, “I’m sorry for scaring you, I didn’t mean to. It didn’t have anything to do with you: I have a problem.”
She said, “I know mommy explained that you have a black blob in your head that makes you see things differently and confuses your thinking. It’s not your fault that it decided to hurt you.”
I blink at that, first in surprise, second because of tears. I look up at Judy, mouth “Thank you.”
But at the same time I realize that was my dream. Maybe she had mentioned her explanation to me and I had forgotten it, but my subconscious hadn’t. Or maybe I had spoken of it at one point.
I stood, grabbed my small suitcase and we walk out to the car. Judy tensed, said, “You didn’t harm any of us, but you scared us. If you had harmed one of us, I wouldn’t be here.”
I nodded, “I understand and agree, if my blob ever made me hurt one of you, you should stay away. But now we know the signs of it moving my way and can deal with it before it touches me.”
She relaxed as if she hadn’t been sure of my response yet she still had to say it. She nodded, took my hand and, said, “Lets have pizza for dinner tonight at home.”
I smiled.
The end


Jimmy, shoulder length brown hair flowing, ran along the cobblestone street. His feet slipped in-between the cracks but he ignored that for his friend might be hurt bad. At least though he didn’t have to run all the way to the old stone wall that surrounded the village. And its Inns, houses, churches that had been built around the castle. Sweat ran down his underarms, and matted his hair on his forehead even though it had turned night.
He looked backwards, saw the full moon just behind the castle where he had been playing in with John a few seconds ago. The castle sat on a small hill and looked tall and narrow, and ripe for playing in, for a couple of fourteen year old boys.
It had come up while the searched and played in that castle. It had cooled more now. He and John had been glad they both wore light jackets over their long sleeved flannel shirts and denim pants. Now though bile came up when he thought about how badly hurt John could be. He never did respond to Jimmy’s calls.
The few electric lights someone had installed helped him find his way in the low light. Once at the right building, an Inn he thought, he tried to skid to a stop but instead stumbled. Somehow, with gritted teeth, he managed to keep himself from falling. He turned to the door, and opened it. This building smelled of rotten wood, while the castle had an odor of old rocks, decay and a used outhouse chamber.
His uncle sat at a table they had brought with them. The floor was smooth at least made from rough wood worn smooth through years of usage. Multiple stains colored the floor in places. Some would be blood, he and John had thought earlier.
A lamp shone on the papers his uncle was studying, even though there were two other lights that let people see where they were going and to make sure no one hid in the shadows, he thought.
He hurried to his uncle, who looked up at him.
Jimmy said, “Uncle Harry, I’m sorry to interrupt you, but it’s John. He was playing and he fell.”
His uncle looked surprised and concerned. “Where did he fall and how far?”
“I don’t know how far but it was in that small chamber in the castle. You know the one they used as a bathroom. He leaned over to look down through the toilet hole, with his flashlight. I don’t know he was so curious but he climbed down a larger hole. He slipped and dropped inside that chamber under it. I heard him land and cry out. He didn’t say anything when I shouted at him. So I ran here.”
Jimmy paused to catch his breath and his uncle said, “I know of another way in, but if he is hurt badly I am not sure what we can do here. Our infirmary isn’t designed for bad injuries. We would have to take him to the next larger village.”
“Maybe he won’t be hurt badly.”
“We will see.”
His uncle stood, grabbed two flashlights and rushed out, Jimmy followed.
They rushed down the street. They stooped at a portion of the hill under the castle. Jimmy could smell old wood, plant decay and the ancient stones. Harry handed a light to Jimmy and then shown his own bright LED light on the stone foundation. He finally nodded and said something Jimmy didn’t catch, it might have been a bad word. He moved over a bit and again shone the light around. Jimmy felt clammy as the cooling night made the sweat cold. His heart still beat hard but not as bad as it had. He helped his uncle brush dirt away from a weird crack. After Harry put his hand up to say enough, he brushed his mouth-coughed. Oops, there had been dirt and tiny bits of the stone on his hand and was now in his mouth.
Uncle Harry managed to reach into a crack and pull back. A door squeaked loudly and the stone the door was made from made a gritty sound as it rolled across the dirt still there.
His uncle said, “Those that lived here liked to have this chamber cleaned out every now and then so they made a door here where slaves could get in and haul out what this was filled with.”
Jimmy wondered for a second what that could be but then it hit him and he said, “Ohhh.”
Yikes, by the smell of the inside this place had been used as its original purpose for a decade.
Uncle Harry aimed his light inside and motion for Jimmy. He thought for a second then realized what his uncle wanted. Jimmy turned on his light and made sure it shone inside.
Jimmy heard a groan. He stepped into the doorway and moved his light back and forth.
“Not so fast Jimmy. Move the beam slowly.”
He did and saw a shadow off to one side toward the back. Jimmy almost rushed in, but his uncle stopped him.
“Watch where you step, and call him to see if he is okay.”
Jimmy flicked the light downward and made sure he stepped only on stone. He called for John. He thought he saw his friend on a small raised platform. Maybe to help with the cleaning or to make the foundation stronger for they were in part of the foundation for the castle.
John said, “I’m okay, I think, but my arm hurts and I bruised my other side.”
Jimmy said, “Come on out. Uncle Harry found a door-but watch your step. Some of this stuff is fresh.”
“What stuff? Oh! Yecch.”
A moment later Jimmy saw someone move, drop to the floor, then carefully walk over to the door. Even before he got there though Jimmy could smell him.
“Yecch, you have some of that on you. You must have landed in a pile of it. We need to clean you off.”
John said, “But my arm and side hurt and I am getting a headache.”
Jimmy’s uncle waved his hand in front of his face and said, “You’re right, that is portent. I know of a place come on.”
He led the way to another part of the castle. This time to a small hole in the foundation stone. It held water and had an old bucket next to it.
“Here we can use this to soak him and to clean him. John you are going to get cold but maybe that will teach you not to play in places like this. Yecch. But it could have been worse. The chamber next to it is filled with very old water. We don’t know how deep it is but it smells like it has old dead fish in it. A garbage dump that got filled with rain water maybe. You could have drowned in smelly old water if you had fallen into that one.”
Jimmy said, “I know, we smelled that water. We wanted no part of it.”
“Good!”
The spent the next ten minutes filling the bucket and splashing John with until they were sure he was clean. The stink stayed though, either it had caught in their sinuses or John badly needed to change cloths and leave these outside, of the walls, Jimmy thought. Then Uncle Harry took led John to an old house that was used as the infirmity. The Professor there had some medical experience since he had been an EMT for a short time. He examined John thought no bones were broken but that the next day a trip to a hospital was in order to make sure and to see about fixing that sprained arm. He gave John some pain relievers he thought would last through the night but it would still hurt.
Jimmy wanted to cheer because his friend was okay, but also determined that he would never do anything as stupid as John had done.

End



Hinglefingle’s Lesson


Tommy Hinglefingle sat on a large rock, today he became single. His seat felt hard and rough but he didn’t care. A tear formed in one eye.
He didn’t notice Jeff Kerkerfell rush up to him from behind. The newcomer slipped around the rock seat, Tommy saw him just as Kergerfell rang his bell.
Tommy hit the ground, stayed there long enough to realize he tasted blood and that one hand rested on a thorny weed.
Once back up, he raised his fists and said, “What was that for?”
“You messed around with my girlfriend.”“Me? You stole her from me...I should punch you twice.”
Jeff waved his hand as if to dismiss what Tommy said.
“Don’t change the subject, you messed with Emily.”
“Not recently...of course I messed with her when we were together...what are you going to do punch all her old boyfriends?”
Kerkerfell said, “You were more than a boyfriend, she married you...and she still thinks of you.”
“What? We haven’t spoken in months.”
Kerkerfell shook his head hard, “Don’t try to sell me. She has been distant the last few days and she changes the subject when I talk of us.”
Hinglefingle said, “Maybe she just wants to be single.”
Kerkerfell said, “She has mentioned your name you in our discussions of late, she wore a ring last night on her left hand when she gave me a quick good night kiss. I knew then that you had to be messing with her behind my back.
Hinglefingle paced, put his hands in his pocket, jingled his keys, stopped himself. He turned back to Kerkerfell.
“Are you playing a game here? She let you take her from me and filed for divorce...and no matter what you believe I haven’t even seen her in ages much less messed with her.”
Kerkerfell said, “Listen to me, you can tell I’m not playing a game! She really has talked about you and is wearing a ring.”
“Maybe Hizzorlone gave her one. She seems to like him.”
“No, she talks about you not him.”
“But...”
Kerkerfell interrupted, “She still wears that small bell you gave her too. And it was a wedding ring not an engagement ring. Call her and see for yourself. You will see I was right to sock you.”
Hinglefingle pulled out his cell phone said, “She would have called me today of all days if this was true,” and punched in a number.
A moment later he said, “Damn, the battery is dead.”
Kerkerfell said, “Maybe that is why she hasn’t called you, she can’t get through...She’s probably at Dell’s party, you should go talk to her.”
Hinglefingle paced again, rolled his eyes and said, “Okay, I’ll go see her mingle at the party...I’ll get this straightened out one way or another.”
Kerkerfell said, “If you haven’t messed with her I’ll apologize for punching you...but go find out.”
Hinglefingle started off, stopped turned back and said, “I’ll give you a dingle afterwards.”
He thought, and if this is a game, I won’t call, I’ll give him two punches.
After he got in his car he added, maybe it is true, I didn’t tell Kerkerfell that she tried to call me four times last night, if she really is wearing that ring she must have changed her mind which would mean today the divorce would be off instead of final...maybe something good can happen to me after all.”

The End

Second excerpt of my novel The Courier

Feb 24 Aaannddd it’s the last weekend of February already.

This is the second excerpt of The Courier even though I split it into three. This whole scene is way too long for SaturdayScenes so I am only showing-off a 2,884 word section from chapter four.

Right now I am aiming for the last week of March for publication. That will depend on different details though. I may be able to say a closer date next week.




Enjoy:


She had been in New Orleans twice before but they had been quick in-and-out runs.
A quick glance out one of the main windows showed her older brick-and-stone buildings that were shorter than the ones in New York. There were some skyscrapers but not in this part of the city. She could see few people as they walked on the sidewalks and the streets here. Many steamcars rolled along. A few buses and trucks too. Of course the city had several districts, and not all were restaurants and night clubs. She did have a list, gotten from other couriers, of what were supposed to be great eating establishments and most were not in the French Quarter. Two would be hard to find but they had great Cajun food while another one had a terrific crayfish, but first she had something to deliver and a response to get. Then she would see how much time she had to go searching for good food. A late-night train ran to New York even though it made one stop where she would have to switch trains.
When one vehicle puffed up to the curb she thought, Good they have cabs here. That would make the trip to the water front easier and faster.
She picked up her gym bag—she already wore her backpack—and headed out the door to fresher air.
Once out, through she coughed. So much for cleaner smelling air. This air contained various types of steam.
More accurately it was what they burned that produced the steam that varied.
Cigar odors joined in with that and, she tilted her head, food smells. There had to be someplace cooking up a storm close by.
Kara decided she could walk a bit to find a driver who might charge her less and who wouldn’t try to take her somewhere else—like a club. So she walked five blocks, and found what appeared to be an empty cab. She looked inside and saw a black man who she assumed was the driver lying on the front seat with his eyes closed. He looked only a little older than herself so he might be a college student, or someone just married who had two jobs. Just like some cabbies in other cities who took naps between fares. Or,… She took a closer look. No blood so probably not a victim of crime or a Mob fight.
She tapped on the driver’s window until the driver’s eyes opened. He looked startled but recovered quickly. He rolled down the window and said,
“You need a cab? And please excuse me I must have fallen asleep while waiting.”
“Yes, I do need a cab; and don’t worry about that, it is early still.”
She got in the back seat and told him the port she needed to get to.
“You taking a small boat out for a run?”
She nodded because he had looked at her in his rearview mirror. The thought came to her that he could be a upcoming jazz musician, who had played late last night but now had to do his day work.
He shifted his eyes to the front, put the car into gear and they lurched forward in a belch of steam she could see out of the back window.
“Sorry about that, but this cab sometimes does that at startup.”
She said, “I understand.”
The cab had looked newer and kept up, but even a steamer in good condition could develop bad reactions.
Over half an hour later he rolled through what could be a small courtyard and pulled up to the parking lot of a certain long one-story building. It looked like it had six storefronts. One other building the same size as the one he parked in front of, graced a side of the courtyard. She paid the driver and gave him an eleven-dollar tip. After she got out he asked if she wanted him to stay around. The day had warmed and she didn’t want to lug her stuff around but she would have to.
Kara said, “You can, but I don’t how long this boat trip will take. Could be three hours or more. So if you get another fare you should take it. But if you’re here I will have you take me back.”
He nodded and she headed for one of the offices in the long building up close to the water. A cool wind like the beginning of a weather front picked up during her walk but it wasn’t bad. The area smelled of the sea and fish as well as the boilers from the cars, trucks and the building itself. It became obvious that some of the fish were rotten even though that odor was faint. She got out some gum with one of the new intense mint flavors. Once she started to chew she almost smiled. Much better. She heard a faint sound that she took to be the ocean, or gulf in this case.
Kara found the correct door and went in.

————————————-

Forty-five minutes later they neared a platform that stuck out of the water on four legs. She made out two cranes, one of which seemed to move. As they neared it she could tell that each leg looked thicker than a steamtaxi. She wondered how they had planted them in the ocean floor. At this point she could now make out structures on the platform. Two tiny fires burned in different parts of the oil derrick. Electric lights lit up other areas.
Mr. Johnson aimed for a metal ladder that looked welded to one leg. A very small platform sat there along with another two up higher. The ladder led to each one and then to the main one. A man on the larger platform saw them and headed down the ladder.
“I wasn’t able to contact them to say we were coming, but they get unexpected visitors almost every day,” Mr. Johnson said.
Kara nodded.
Mr. Johnson tried two ropes to rings set in the leg.
The man coming down the ladder stopped and shouted, “Who are you?”
Kara raised her voice, “A courier with a message for your OIM and a one for a hydraulic mechanic.”
“Good, we were told to expect a courier. Come on up.”
She looked at the ladder, gave herself a little shrug and grabbed a rung. She went up easily even though the rungs were wet from sea water. Mr. Johnson followed. He looked like he had experience climbing these ladders.
Once up on the platform itself she looked around.
WOW!
She could see for miles. It looked like mostly water with a few ships in the distance. But she wanted to stay and look.
Up here she could still smell the sea but an odor of burnt oil invaded her sinuses also. Flashes of light showed where men welded and she could see other men carrying pieces of metal, or wrestling machinery into place. An occasional cuss word could be heard as well as sounds of metal against metal and the unique hiss of welding. And she heard something about boiling a certain part of a certain man in the main boiler. Three men in scuba gear walked by, headed inside, it looked like. The wind ripped over the structure. She felt it through her outfit. Mr. Johnson looked cold too. Most of the men were dressed in warm clothing.
The man that met them led them to one of the higher structures, and up a stairway that clanged with their footsteps. She wanted to spit because oil in the air got in her mouth when she breathed in. But she wasn’t sure how they would take it.
Once inside the man led them down a hallway. Or is that “passageway”? she thought. No wind in here, so it was warmed. Everything was metal even though an attempt had been made to make it look like an office building on land. He continued to what looked like an office: carpet on the floor, cushioned chairs, a clock on a desk, artwork on walls. A man sat behind a desk. It smelled a little of cleaners, cigars and cologne.
“Mr. Dampfgang? A courier has a delivery for you.”
The man in a black turtleneck looked up from a piece of paper. He took them all in at a glance Kara saw.
He said, “Good, I was expecting something today. Thank you for showing them in.”
The man must have taken that as a dismissal for he left. Mr. Dampfgang motioned them in. He greeted Mr. Johnson, looked at Kara and said, “Good, you arrived early. Ms…?”
“Kara. As you probably know, I have something for you to read, and I was told to wait for a response.”
The manager nodded. “In that case let me have what I am to read.”
Kara stepped to the desk. Even through her boots the carpet felt thicker than she expected and it seemed to be warmer than the metal floor. That last had to be just in her mind. She wore her work boots for one reason.
She took off her pouch and placed it on the desk. She found the correct folder and gave it to Mr. Dampfgang.
Kara said, “I have one more delivery here,”—he looked up with surprise on his face, “for a John Kilgood. One of the junior hydraulic mechanics.”
“I know him.” He paused than shouted, “Greg!” A man in coveralls looked in. “Go get John Kilgood. Tell him he has a message.”
The man said, “Yes sir,” and took off.
“I can read this and maybe have a response before he gets here.”
Kara said, “Sounds good.”
She stood there while Mr. Dampfgang read. Mr. Johnson had whispered that he had something to do and would be back in a couple of minutes. After what may have been ten minutes Greg came back with another man. This one wore greasy coveralls. The new guy looked twenty-three and in good shape with short blond hair.
Kara stood and said, “Are you John Kilgood, married to Aurore Kilgood?”
“I am John Kilgood and I am married to Aurore,” he said with a worried frown. He spoke with a Scottish accent which changed the pronunciation of Kilgood.
Kara reached into her pouch and drew out a thick, large brown envelope and handed it to Kilgood.
He took it from her with worry still in his eyes. He opened it and pulled out what looked like a handwritten letter. He read and his expression changed to a different type of worry, and then they lit up and he broke into a large smile.
John looked up and said in an almost shout, “I’m a father! My wife had a baby boy. It was a month early, but she says everyone is fine and healthy.”
He reached into the envelope again and withdraw a bunch of what looked like photographs. John went through them and said, “Here are pictures of my new baby.”
With a proud look, he showed them to Kara. “Here’s the baby, here’s my beautiful wife, the doctor, and others holding my son.”
She thought the wife might be a little embarrassed that he had showed pictures of her breast feeding, but then again maybe not. Kara brought out a form and asked him to sign it, just to say he received the package and that it was in good shape. He did with a thanks to her.
“I only charged your wife the basic price without expenses, since I had another run out here anyway.”
She had thought about giving them a further discount but John made good money even on the lower end of the pay scale here.
He smiled at her in gratitude, but went back to showing the pictures around.
—————————————

A blast of light and sound showed that lighting had struck too close. She hoped that Mr. Johnson knew the way to his dock, as she couldn’t tell where they were. But she decided it would be better to not distract him to by asking.
She spat out more water and breathed in more. Ozone had built enough to smell and taste it, even as the rain washed it away. Her clothes were very uncomfortable since they were soaked and now clammy. At least they were not getting wetter. Kara looked out of the front and saw a light. Not large enough to be a lighthouse—at least she assumed there would be some near here on the Gulf. She looked around. There seemed to be a light over to her right—far to her right. Around Mobile? Kara shook her head she didn’t know enough about this coast to even guess.
One would be very good at this point though. It could show the way into the bay. But Mr. Johnson seemed to know where he headed for so maybe the light was coming from a building or something.
Kara wondered if her new goggles would help her to see through this weather, but more than likely they would be wet and hard to see through in no time. Water splashed up into the front of the boat. She tried to move even closer to the windshield. It offered at least a tiny bit of protection. And she hoped the boat had some form of pumps to make sure they didn’t fill up with water.
A sudden cough made her jerk. It had come from an engine. She spun around and looked at it. Not much she could do if it failed but maybe if it was only the boiler. She slipped and slid to the boiler near that engine and found that its fire had gone out. Too much water in it from the storm?
How to cover the boiler to keep the fire going?
Not too many ways out here.
A new thought and she ran to the compartment with the slickers. She grabbed one and slipped and slid back to the boiler. She tied one arm to a pole that stuck up near the boiler and the other to the other boiler. The back of the slicker top hung down over the burner. She might have to hold it away from it, but first…
Kara brought out a cheap lighter and got a flame going. This older contraption did not have the same burner that Danny used but still they were all similar. She looked up at where they were headed. The boat had slowed but the rain had sped up. From the way the boat bounced, so had the waves. She could smell the oil Mr. Johnson burned. It should easier to light than other materials used. The wind and waves made too much noise for Mr. Johnson to yell any advice or encouragement. But he might be trying anyway, she thought.
She licked her lips and discovered that not all of the moisture on her face had come from the clouds. How could she be sweating in this weather? With a frown she bent back down and tried to light the starter. It wouldn’t. She stood again and looked around. A gust of wind pulled the slicker out of her hand and almost knocked her down.
She tried again but the starter refused to catch fire. Kara bit her lip. She wasn’t going to drown in this storm. There had to be an answer.
More wind. This time she had to retie one of the arms. She made sure the other one stayed tight. A sudden bounce. One foot slipped on the wet deck. Kara moved her feet fast in what could have been a dance under other circumstances. A break dance, she thought.
I hope I don’t land on my head.
Her face twisted into a frown then a snarl. Her head went up to stare at the sky, but she aborted that move. All that would happen once her face was out from under the hat, is that she would get water in her eyes and probably mouth.
One corner of the slicker top pulled out of her hand and slapped her face even as she tried to duck.
Aww, it got my eye.
Not bad enough to injury it but she still had to rub it—gently of course. Once her eye would open again she bent over the starter again. She needed to get it going now.
She looked at the where the fire would start.
What?
Kara reached out and touched it.
Damn, wet.
There was only thing to do about that, so she pulled out one of her knives, trimmed the wick and tried again. This time it started. She pulled back when the burner flared. This time when it died down, the fires kept going.
Good.
Kara thought of something she should have checked already. She looked in the water tank to make sure of the water situation and found it still at a good level.
Better, something worked out.
I am not drowning. That would allow my dad to say he knew I couldn’t do it. He said I would need every bit of training he could give me but that I would still fail myself.


End excerpt