BLUE MOON at the FORBIDDEN PLANET
By: Violette, JBrooks, Tipper, HeatherF, SableCain and NotTasha
PART 1
Notes: Back in 2010 the six of came together to write the Round Robin called "Bad Moon over Rock Hollow" (also available at this site under my name). We had found a list of prompts from that year's Stargate Atlantis Fanficathon and decided to write an M7 Round Robin. We took turns writing a chapter, using their prompts as inspiration. What could possibly go wrong? It was all unplanned and we ended up with a very silly tale.
After taking a good long rest, we figured we'd try it again, using another list of prompts from a different year's SGA Fanficathon. The result is another ridiculous story that makes sense if you're kind. Once again, we took turns choosing a prompt from a list, and following it wherever it might take us. Strangely, there are a lot of reoccurring themes between the two stories. Once it was complete, we went through the story, fixing inconsistencies to help it make sense. I'm not sure if it helped much.
Violette meant to participate, but we lost our lovely friend just after the New Year. We miss her terribly and will always love her writing. She was unable to write a new chapter, but she is here – we have integrated one of her unfinished stories into our project so that she could be included, as I know she would want to be. Violette, we love you and miss you.
Chapter 1: Carnival or Fair
The sun had long since set on Four Corners and her seven protectors, who could be found that evening, as with most others, at their usual tables in the saloon. Ezra, JD, Buck and Josiah were playing poker, while the other three peacekeepers relaxed over their beers at the next table. Things had been calm recently, and the lawmen were enjoying the lull while they could, knowing how rapidly the situation could change.
"Call," Buck said smugly, certain that he finally held the winning hand.
JD and Josiah had folded, so Ezra gave him a faint smile as he laid down his cards. "Straight flush, Mr. Wilmington."
Buck's face fell and he dropped his cards on the table. "Damn, Ezra! I thought I had you that time." He gestured futilely at the three aces in his hand.
JD snorted. "You don't play good enough to beat Ezra, Buck."
"Too true, Mr. Dunne," Ezra said with a grin.
Buck knocked JD's hat off his head. "Neither do you, kid."
"'Least I admit it," JD grumbled. As he bent to pick up his hat, a folded piece of paper slipped out of his pocket and fell to the floor.
Buck snatched it up before JD could get his hands on it. "What'cha got here?" Buck grinned as he unfolded it.
"Gimme that," JD said in annoyance. "It's just a flyer that came in with the mail." His irritated expression changed as he said, "It's for The Forbidden Planet."
"What was that?" Josiah asked, intrigued.
"A carnival," JD explained. "They've set up outside of Cedar Ridge. They have a roller coaster called 'Ride to the Moon,' and it's like you're actually going into space. And there's a merry-go-round called Blackbeard's Secret World."
"The moon and the sea?" Ezra asked, nonplussed. "And a planet?"
"It sounds special," JD told him. "I've been wanting to go there since this came in."
Josiah glanced at the flyer in Buck's hands. "If I remember right, you're headed to Cedar Ridge in the morning with Chris and Vin."
JD nodded. "Got to deliver that evidence. The District Attorney said he'd be waiting for us there. We can go to the carnival when we get there and see the DA that evening."
"A carnival?" Ezra drawled. "Neither Mr. Larabee nor Mr. Tanner seem to be the type to appreciate such diversions."
"I thought it would be fun," JD told him.
Buck's grin increased as he perused the page. "Forbidden Planet, huh? I wonder if they have any other sorts of experiences there." He raised his eyebrows, glancing to Ezra and Josiah. "Forbidden experiences, maybe?"
"It's a carnival," JD retorted, not catching that glance. "They got all sorts of stuff there."
Buck's expression shifted when he read aloud, "According to this, there's pie judging tomorrow."
"Scintillating," Ezra responded.
Josiah smiled broadly. "Where there's pie judging, there's bakers and where there are bakers there are ladies. Lots of ladies."
Buck looked intrigued.
"And pies," Josiah added slyly.
Ezra perked up.
"There's games of chance!" JD suddenly declared, snatching the page from Buck's hand.
Ezra cocked his head. "You don't say?"
"Come on," JD whined. "It'd be fun, don'tcha think?"
Ezra picked up his cards, shuffling them and not looking committed to anything.
"They got Navaho Fry Bread," JD read.
Josiah stood and rubbed his hands together. "That's it! I'm going." He paused and added, "Does it say if they have a freak show?"
"I bet they do," JD said. "Every carnival has one, don't they?"
"Nathan will want to go," Josiah stated.
Ezra and Buck looked up at that.
"He's got an interest," Josiah stated, looking baffled.
"To each his own," Ezra replied returning his attention to the cards.
JD stood abruptly and headed to the door. "I gotta go to Cedar Ridge in any case," he declared. "But I think we all should go to the carnival because it would be fun." The batwing doors slapped closed behind him.
"You got no argument from me," Josiah said, following him out.
Buck stood. "Come on," he said, picking up Ezra's hat from the table. "We just got to set this up with Chris."
"You can't be serious," Ezra stated.
"It'll be fun," Buck told him, jamming the hat down on Ezra's head as he headed toward Chris. "What could possibly go wrong?"
So, the next morning they all left Four Corners together, riding side-by-side, determined to enjoy the pleasant journey and a fun day at the carnival.
Chapter 2: Dreams are Like Rainbows. Only Idiots Chase Them
The journey was pleasant enough. The destination, less so.
"This is your fault!" Ezra Standish hissed as he and Vin Tanner dove for cover behind a stand of pockmarked tin ducks in the carnival shooting gallery. A volley of shots pinged uselessly off the targets and the back of the booth.
"I told you those sights were off," Vin said smugly. "And this ain't my fault. It's Buck's fault."
An alarmed yelp sounded from the violet-striped tent next door. The one where the baked goods were being judged. Buck's voice floated out from the dim, fragrant interior of the tent, mingled with the sound of fists hitting flesh.
"This is all your fault, Josiah!" Buck yelled, accompanied by the sound of something that sounded a lot like a display table full of pies being upended.
Ezra scowled. He'd been dreaming about those prize-winning pies all afternoon. Row after flaky row of pecan, pumpkin, peach… His thoughts broke off as shots rattled off the tin ducks again, closer now, as their attackers adjusted their aim.
Vin nodded toward the canvas side of the booth and Ezra followed him, rolling quickly under the loose fabric - out of the line of fire and into the open-air chaos of the fair. Panicked townsfolk scattered to avoid the gunfights and fistfights breaking out around them, to the accompaniment of off-key calliope music coming from the undersea themed carousel.
The two lawmen picked themselves up off the ground — and promptly went flying as something huge and hairy crashed into them.
Chapter 3: Hope Springs Eternal
Chris Larabee walked casually through the crowd, not unaware of the way people naturally parted to make a way for him. The sun was bright and warm, though clouds cluttered the horizon, promising coming rain. All he really hoped to find was a dark, cool place and some whiskey where he didn't have to listen to the rat-a-tat coming from the shooting gallery.
Around him, from tent poles hung a strange mix of planets, moons, stars, sea-life and devilish symbols mostly in purplish hues – an attempt at the "Forbidden Planet" theme. It ended up looking confused and poorly planned.
Scanning the various tents as he walked, he stopped short as a small, red-haired woman with a huge, pale-yellow snake wrapped around her neck sauntered in front of him.
"Care for a show?" She blinked long eyelashes and smiled as she lifted the head of the snake closer to his face.
Chris took a step back, caught more off guard by the missing front teeth than the snake. He hardly registered her face as he turned away. "Hell no. Whiskey," he demanded.
The woman sighed and shrugged toward a dingy, striped tent to the left. She watched him as he left her.
Chris made it to the entrance of the tent, his mouth watering in anticipation when a large commotion caught his attention.
For a moment, he refused to turn around. He heard the gunshots and a bellow that sounded suspiciously like Buck. He closed his eyes, warring within himself before he hung his head and slowly turned away from the tent. He really just hoped for a decent glass of whiskey.
Chapter 4: Creature from the Black Lagoon
"Come one, come all!" the man called, standing in front of a largish tent off to one side. "Come see the freakishly bizarre, the weird and abnormal, the oddest collection of…hell, are they even human?... specimens you will ever have the horror to behold!"
Nathan turned his head at the words, "are they even human?", and looked at the large tent occupying the far corner of the fairground.
"No," Josiah said, snagging his arm. "Don't even think about it."
"But—"
"You're going to go in there, and then you're going to want to help someone you think is being oppressed or harmed. We're not doing that."
"But—"
"I've tried it before, brother, it leads to nothing but bad feelings and stab wounds. Believe me."
"Josiah—"
"After all, unless they're chained up, which…" Josiah's expression pinched. "…they may be. It's likely all for show. I'm sure the people in there are not really being held against their will. Bat boys, bearded ladies, creatures from a black lagoon—"
"I only—"
"Then again, I have seen people truly in dire straits in these sorts of places before. But helping them only seemed to bring greater harm…"
"Josiah, honestly, I only—"
"It will lead to no good, even if those people really do need help. And what are we but lost souls ourselves, seeking redemption through what we believe to be good deeds, when, in fact, we could very well be only making things worse. What evils—"
"Oh hell, you're in it now, aren't you," Nathan said. "Can you even hear me anymore?"
"—and trials are we to overcome, in order to bring salvation and, yes, kindness—"
"It's a quarter to get in. Do you have a quarter?"
That finally brought Josiah to a stop, and he looked at Nathan, stricken.
"You are so lucky I don't waste all my money on roofing tiles that I drop off the roof and break every other week," Nathan said, grabbing Josiah's arm and steering him towards the "Freaks" tent. "I've got enough for both of us."
Josiah grinned as he let himself be led. "You truly are a godsend, Nathan."
"You're buying me a drink later, is what you're doing," Nathan replied as he fished the money out and handed it to the man. A moment later, they were ducking under the tent-flap into the cool interior and into a haze of smoke so thick, both men started hacking so hard that Josiah fell to his knees…
Chapter 5: Animals
A soft breeze whispered across the nape of JD's neck. Dunne shook his leg in irritation.
"Com'n, let go. I've got to find the others." His voice had a tinge of a whine, interlaced with frustration. It would have been embarrassing if one of the other seven were with him.
JD quickly peered around the tented area, trying to catch a glimpse of his friends between sun-bleached, purplish tents. Small plumes of powdery dust billowed from under his stuttering boots as he turned in an unbalanced circle, crunching wilted grass.
Shots rang out near the shooting gallery, putting him on edge for a moment until he realized – shooting gallery.
An old man leaned against a pole, chin to chest, content to chew on a sprig of grass. JD stared at him a moment, taking in his tri-corn hat, the eyepatch, the sash. Pirate, he decided - not a very convincing one either. Seeing a pirate here might have been a concern, but they were at a carnival, after all.
The misplaced pirate gave JD and his snarling tag-a-long no mind.
The terrier tugged with increased determination. It scratched for purchase in withered grass and dust. The breeze did nothing to subdue its raised hackles. The scarred, little one-eyed terrier simply bared its teeth and jerked its head side to side with spine snapping force.
"Cut it out. I got to go." Dunne shook his leg quickly glancing down at the small monster that attached itself to him.
From the corner of his eye, JD caught a fleeting glimpse of potential flying bodies disappearing over a tiny fence between gaming stands where the shooting had been heard. He furrowed his brow.
Was that Vin and Ezra? Were they wrestling the bearded lady? Or was it a muzzled brown bear?
Chris was going to be angry if those two caused a ruckus again.
Dunne dragged his leg forward trying for a better vantage point.
The terrier snarled and sank back in the opposite direction with ill intent.
Down the lane, Dunne caught a glimpse of a moccasin boot, and a hairy limb in pantaloons. He squinted trying to make sense of the partially obstructed sighting.
Was the bear or bearded lady wearing pantaloons? JD couldn't remember.
Through the meandering crowds, he saw Chris stalk down a dusty path, disappearing between tents. JD started to holler to him, get his attention, but paused. Larabee seemed ill-tempered at the moment. Dunne shrugged, Chris should get a drink and relax, try having some fun.
The old fake pirate leaned against the splinted pole, his worn booted foot resting flush again the wood. The wilted piece of straw drooped from chapped lips. "Storm's rolling in…" The old timer twirled the end of his mustache, "gunna be a big one."
JD peered off to the north, into the soft breeze. Blue skies slowly ebbed to black on the horizon.
Chapter 6: A Cry for Help
"Help!" Ezra cried as the hairy thing latched onto his collar. He threw a desperate look to Tanner, but instead of helping, Vin was skittering away with wide eyes.
"Give it up!" Bobo the Wildman from the Wilds of West WalloWallo growled through his thicket of beard and tangled mop. "Give it!" He was all hair, bone-necklace and pantaloons - shaking Standish with filthy hands.
"I … don't… have… it!" Ezra got out through clattering teeth. "Buck…"
Vin was on his feet, reaching for his mare's leg and damning himself, knowing it was gone. He didn't want to chance messing with the creature. Bobo would have been hideous if not for the colorful pantaloons.
"You let go of him!" Tanner said, shaking a finger at the wild man, but not getting closer. "We got no argument with you!" There was something unnatural about a man - all that hair and wearing a tiny woman's flowered hat.
Bobo stilled and Ezra looked relieved that the rattling had ceased. The creature gave Vin a look and said, "Jimmy Sureshot doesn't like you."
"Help!" Buck's voice sounded as he stumbled out of the pie-judging tent, tripping over Bobo and Ezra, and nearly piling into Vin. Cherry pie-filling and whipped cream coated his face. Crumbs dusted his mustache. Chocolate cream globbed onto one hand and his shirt was stained with a dozen different colors of pie filling. His eyes glanced upon the men who'd tripped him.
He instantly discounted any help from Ezra as he was rather occupied at the moment - Bobo had gone back to shaking him like a maraca.
So, Buck latched onto Vin.
"Vin! Help a brother! Josiah abandoned me with all those women and all those pies! I only had time to taste one pie and that baker came after me! Blame Josiah! He put me up to it!" He turned as the covey of women stormed out of the tent – all of them with floured aprons, armed with rolling pins and squashed pies.
"All my hard work!"
"He destroyed them all!"
"He done rested his rump on my sugar pie!"
"My flan is flattened!"
"He ruin't my black bottom!"
Buck gave Vin one fruity and desperate look, his mouth pressed to a thin line. Seeing no help coming from him, he ran – right into the gunmen.
Chapter 7: Learning to Fly
A line of angry carnies crowded between the tents, cutting the Four Corners lawmen off from the main fairgrounds. They'd tossed aside the rigged pea shooters. Instead, they brandished guns, knives and a few of those oversized mallets a man could use to pound a tent peg — or a lawman — into the ground.
Buck careened into the line and ricocheted back, narrowly ducking a mallet swing. He stumbled back into the hunched, monstrous bulk of Bobo and somersaulted across his hairy back, knocking off the wild man's flowery hat and sending it flying.
Bobo let out an animal howl, clutching at his head in dismay. He whirled, reaching desperately, but a breeze had caught the frilly hat, whirling up and soaring off above the fairgrounds. The wild man took off in pursuit, leaving Ezra flattened and forgotten in the dust.
Buck landed with a bone-jarring thump that hurt a lot less than it should have. Belatedly, he remembered the object Ezra had passed to him after Vin's triumph at the shooting gallery. He was supposed to stash it someplace safe, but pie, pretty bakers and Josiah were beckoning, so he'd stuffed it down the back of his trousers instead.
Ezra sat up with a pained groan, scooting back to get some distance from the angry gunmen and bakers who hemmed them in.
Both groups were closing in. The carnies glared at Vin. The pie ladies hefted their ruined wares, scowling down at Buck.
"You got this coming," hissed Jimmy Sureshot, a rabbity little man who looked barely strong enough to heft the rifle that was currently pointing dead center at Vin's forehead. "You low-down, sneak of a—"
"PIE MURDERER!" one of the bakers shrieked. A volley of flattened pies arced through the air. A shot rang out and a pie plate shattered in mid-flight, raining ceramic shrapnel and cherry pulp down on everyone below.
The pie ladies shrieked and bolted as more shots rang out.
Chapter 8: The Best Defense is a Good Offense
Chris lowered his gun, the barrel still smoking from the shot he'd used to shatter the thrown pie. "What the hell is going on here!" he shouted at the stunned crowd. While the women had fled, the carnies were still very much present, still gripping their various weaponry. But, where they'd looked murderous before, now they merely looked confused.
One of them, a man in a hideously green striped jacket and a straw boatman's hat, limped forward. A bloody bandage was wrapped around his thigh, just above the knee.
"What's it to you?" he demanded in a reedy voice.
"These men are with me," Chris replied, gesturing at Vin, the mildly swaying Buck, and the groaning and supine Ezra. "Makes 'em my responsibility. What've they done?"
The man in the green striped jacket stared at Chris with beady eyes, his scraggly beard shifting on his face as he chewed on something. He seemed to be measuring him.
"You're Chris Larabee," he said finally, black liquid dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. "Ain't ya? The gunslinger?" He wiped the guck off his beard with the back of his hand.
"I am," Chris said, lip curling slightly.
"Yer supposed to be fast."
"Supposed to be," Chris agreed. "You wanna find out?"
The men behind the carnie shifted, uncertain. The one who'd been talking, though, just bared a set of black and yellow teeth in what might be called a smile. Chris's lip curled even more.
"Just tell me why you're after my men," Chris demanded.
"Him." The man pointed at Buck. "We don't care about him. The woman are riled with him for some reason, probably related to the contest his friend got him to judge. And him." Here he pointed at Ezra. "We don't much care about him either, 'ceptin' he's with that feller." He pointed at Vin. "Bobo, though," he gestured to the wild man. "I think he's got a problem with the dandy."
"Chris—" Vin began, only to have Chris raise a hand. Vin pressed his lips together firmly, clearly not pleased.
"Now that one," the carnie pointed at Vin again. "Him we're gonna kill."
Chris's eye narrowed. "Why?"
"Because I'm Jimmy Sureshot, and he—"
"FIRE!" someone shouted from not far away. Suddenly there was screaming and shouting from what sounded like the opposite side of the fair. "FIRE! The Freak Tent is on Fire! We need help!"
Chapter 9: Be Prepared (Boy Scout motto)
JD's head snapped up at 'Fire!' His head snapped up, eyes wide. He searched the immediate area and then spotted smoke a few tents away. The strange pirate frowned and abruptly left him alone with the dog.
Black smoke billowed and rolled stretching black plumes into the sky.
"Oh my Gosh," He tried to jerk his leg free of the little terrier. He could hear panicked screams and few deeper voices shouting for calm across the tent-strewn grass clearing.
Dunne shook his leg with more vigor, "Let go little dog!" He jerked his foot forward in an attempt to dislodge the snarling terrier. The dog's four feet left the ground as it arched to the left but it held fast to the cuffed pant hem.
JD kept his eyes on the smoke as he laboriously started to wind his way between tents, dodging stakes and lines.
The terrier dragged behind and beside him, jerking its head left and right, struggling for purchase in an attempt to stop the sheriff.
JD broke into small clearing. He paused for a moment near the ticket booth and again shook his leg.
"Stop it! I've got to help my friends," JD implored to the tenacious creature.
He could see flames now, but the tent was still obscured from sight by other attractions.
Between the tents, Dunne could see the stream of panicked carnival goers and employees racing to escape the smoke and reaching flames. On the far side of the fair, the rollercoaster had stopped clattering away. The calliope of the carousel was silenced.
"Oh Gosh, I hope Buck and the others are okay," He muttered quietly to himself. Then, in a more panicked afterthought, it struck him, what if Ezra was involved with the fire?
Oh God, Oh God. Dunne's heart raced with uncontrolled panic. The District Attorney would kill him. JD knew he shouldn't have listened to Ezra. JD knew he shouldn't have entrusted Ezra with something so valuable and important. He knew it! Why did he listen to Ezra?! The DA entrusted him! Not Ezra!
"Let go!" JD jerked his foot trying to dislodge the fierce little dog. The terrier snarled with renewed vigor.
Dunne's attention was drawn away from his pant leg as a colorful crowd of costumed figures streamed and gurgled by, rolling with panic. A bearded, full-figured person lumbered by carrying what appeared to be a tiny two-headed woman. Hunched figures, tall thin knobby jointed persons, short squat figures, all lumbered by at varied tottering pace. JD furrowed his brow at what appeared to be a tentacle individual loping amongst the throng.
Streams of town folk and tourist alike ran past. Two figures seemed familiar.
"Josiah? Nathan?" Dunne whispered as the two were pushed by. Nathan appeared to be fighting the current of escaping people, working against the tide, while Josiah tugged him further back from the yet unseen burning tent.
The smell of smoke wafted toward Dunne on the growing breeze. Orange and blue flames shot above the purple peaked tents. The flames bent and twisted in the northern breeze.
Across the drying prairie grass, dark clouds boiled and rolled over one another heading for the carnival.
Chapter 10: Laundry Day
"Fire!"
Everyone between the shooting gallery and the pie-judging tent froze. All around them echoed the sounds of panic. The Forbidden Planet Carnival was on fire.
"Good God," one of the carnie's muttered. "This whole place is going to burn!" For a moment, they looked at each other – almost accusingly. Then, the first one took off, hopefully to start a bucket brigade with most of the crew behind him.
Sureshot paused. He glared at Vin. He gestured with his empty hand as if he had a weapon. He popped one off at Vin. "You'll get yours," he growled and limped after the rest of them. He moved with surprising speed, in spite of his injury.
It was, apparently, not a life threatening wound.
Vin narrowed his gaze as he spotted his mare's leg slung over that man's back. "I'll be back," he uttered, running after the departing carnies, getting caught up in the flow of panicked people.
Chris looked around in surprise to find himself suddenly alone with Ezra and Buck in the passageway. Buck grabbed an offered handkerchief from Ezra and started wiping off his face, trying to remove the layer of fruity pie filling. He looked suspiciously bruised under the camouflage of cherry and whipped cream.
"This is Vin's fault," Ezra grumbled as he struggled to get up. "Vin and the DA. I blame them both." He still looked a little flattened, and sprigs of straw festooned his hair. "They were right when they named this place 'the Forbidden Planet'. I should have heeded that warning." He glanced at Buck, and scowled. "I expect to get that handkerchief back - cleaned." He frowned as he noted the condition of his clothing, all ground into the dirt. "Deplorable," he muttered. "It will all need to be laundered."
Chris kept his gaze in the direction of the panic. "Let's get moving," he declared.
When Ezra gained his feet, he asked Buck, "Do you still have it?"
Buck nodded, reaching for the back of his trousers. "Is this the thing that the DA needed delivered?"
Chris gave Buck a startled look and then turned the gaze on Ezra. "Ezra, I gave that to JD for safekeeping."
"He was keeping it in a pocket that was easily picked," Ezra said with annoyance.
Chris wasn't impressed. "So you took it from him?"
Buck pulled the split-seamed toy bunny from his pants, giving Ezra a wry look.
Ezra smiled broadly. "Pity that Bobo didn't find you. I'm sure he'd have words."
Chris shook his head. Grabbing one of Ezra's arms, he snapped, "Enough of this! There's a fire. We've got to get people out of here! We'll talk about this later." His statement was edged in a darkness that stated the discussion would be an intense one.
Buck and Ezra nodded resolutely and turned toward the sound of the commotion. Smoke was billowing over the tents and it was only a matter of time before all of the carnival would be consumed. Sooty bits of canvas were in the air. The shouting around them increased in volume.
They started out of the passageway and almost cleared it when an arm shot out of the pie tent, clothes-lining Wilmington.
Buck went down like a sack of laundry. Chris tried to grab him before he hit the ground, failed, and then snapped his head up as the biggest baker they'd ever seen stepped clear of the tent. The man stood, placing one hand on each of his hips as he stared down at the heap that was Wilmington.
"Not enough sugar?" he cried. "How dare he disparage my Lemon Surprise!" He turned his furious look on the other two. "How dare he!"
Chapter 11: Cascading Failures
Larabee barely broke stride, plowing straight into the aggrieved baker and sending him flying. Ezra stretched out a leg and tripped the off-balance giant, who collided with the saggy canvas wall of the pie-judging tent with enough force to collapse the entire structure.
There was a crunch of snapping support beams, mingled with high-pitched shrieks and the sound of even more crockery smashing inside.
Larabee stomped onward into the swirling smoke and confusion of the fairgrounds. Ezra cast a wary glance at the heaving tangle of canvas that cocooned the baker, then reached down, hauled a dazed Buck to his feet, and followed after.
"Only 'surprise' was how much that dish tasted like sawdust," Buck muttered, massaging his bruised jaw.
The Forbidden Planet Carnival had been set up in an open meadow on the outskirts of Cedar Ridge. Through the swirling smoke they could see the ominous glow of at least three burning tents. Gusting winds caught the sparks and sent them tumbling onto the hay floor of the livestock-judging ring. Flames caught and spread, licking up the side of a booth hawking fried chicken and lemonade. Townsfolk were forming into a ragged bucket brigade that stretched in a thin, ineffective line back to the wells in Cedar Ridge.
Larabee paused, his gaze shifting from the flames to the spot where Vin had just vanished around a corner, still in pursuit of Sureshot. He turned his glare on Ezra, who was swiping ineffectively at the cherry-stained handprints Buck had wiped on his sleeve.
"This was not my fault," Ezra said.
Buck snorted.
Not half an hour earlier
It had been Ezra's idea, of course. But it was Buck who talked Vin into it.
"Waste of money," Vin muttered again, reluctantly handing over two bits to the greasy carny in the ugly striped jacket who ran the shooting booth. "Game's rigged. Can't trust the sights on these little popguns."
The game operator shot Vin an unfriendly look and slid a battered rifle across the counter. Vin sighed, rested his mare's leg on the pitted countertop, and took up the rickety weapon instead.
The carny stooped and began turning a mechanical crank on the side of the booth. There was a rusty clatter and suddenly a parade of pockmarked tin duck targets began a slow march along the metal tracks at the back of the booth. The ducks jittered and twirled, back and forth, up and down, in time with the turning crank.
"What better test of your aim and acumen?" Ezra called out, raising his voice slightly as he added: "Why, I'd lay money that six shots are all you'd need to knock down six targets."
A few passersby stopped in their tracks, then reached for their wallets.
Buck took time out from flirting with a cluster of pretty young ladies cradling fresh-baked pies to lean in and clout Vin across the shoulder.
"See if you can win one of those little fluffy bunnies, pard," he said, nodding toward a line of shabby, dusty stuffed animals on the booth's prize shelf. "The ladies love it when you win 'em a prize at the fair."
Buck tipped his hat as the pie bakers made their way, giggling, into the neighboring tent.
Vin rolled his eyes and took aim.
He fired — and missed.
There were a few derisive hoots from the gathering crowd. Scowling, Vin fired again, and missed again.
From somewhere back in the crowd, JD piped up. "This is boring. If we wanted to watch Vin shoot at stuff, we could have stayed home." The kid was balancing greasy fried chicken drumsticks in each hand and trying to fend off a scruffy little terrier that was circling his feet, staring at the snack with unblinking intensity.
"True enough, brother," he heard Josiah's rumbled reply. "Of course, watching Vin shoot at something and fail to hit it is a bit more of a novelty. Still, I could be persuaded to step over to the next tent. The pie judging's about to start—"
Vin fired two more times, and missed two more times. His fifth shot nicked the edge of one of the tin ducks. It wobbled, but didn't fall. Voices in the crowd were calling for Ezra to pay up. Vin nodded slightly, satisfied that he'd figured out how to compensate for the off-kilter sights and warped gun barrel.
He squeezed off his last round, and the tin duck slammed backward, sporting a fresh dent, center mass.
Vin turned to see that Nathan and Josiah had wandered off somewhere. Ezra and JD were caught up in an intense conversation while Buck doled out a stack of Ezra's money to the happy winners.
Suddenly, JD yelped and stumbled backward, swatting at Ezra with the drumsticks he still clutched in each hand. The little terrier yipped and launched into a vertical leap that nearly succeeded in separating JD from one of the drumsticks and several of his fingers. Distracted, JD flinched back from the bouncing dog while Ezra smoothly moved his hand into the pocket of his jacket.
JD shot Ezra a frustrated look, and then stomped away.
The little dog followed.
Ezra pivoted to face the crowd. He grinned broadly and nodded to Buck, who held up a fresh stack of dollar bills.
"That was hardly a fair test of our friend's shooting prowess," Ezra said, smiling wide enough to show off a gleam of gold tooth. "The sun was in his eyes. What say we raise the stakes?"
A few in the crowd squinted up at the overcast sky, where thunderclouds were gathering on the horizon. They reached eagerly for their wallets again.
Ugly-jacket approached, trying to swap out Vin's gun for one he'd pre-loaded. Vin tightened his grip, snagged a box of ammunition from the counter and reloaded himself. The carny's scowl darkened and he spit a stream of chewing tobacco close enough to Vin's toes to splash his boots.
Vin waited for Ezra to finish fleecing the locals, then flattened six tin ducks in rapid succession. Groans went up around the crowd as Buck and Ezra collected their winnings.
Scowling, the shooting booth operator snagged the smallest prize off the shelf — a stuffed bunny. He tossed it at Vin, who caught it easily and tucked it under one arm. He turned to go, ready to find the booth that was selling all that fried chicken, when the carny called out.
"Beginner's luck." The man had a voice as loud as his jacket and it carried to every corner of the gathered crowd. "Bet you couldn't do that again."
Wordlessly, Vin tossed the stuffed bunny to Ezra, and reloaded. Behind him, he could hear the shuffle of even more bills and coins changing hands. Ezra was definitely paying for lunch when all this was over.
Six more shots. Six more flattened ducks.
Ugly jacket slammed a calloused hand down on the counter, cutting Ezra off as he reached for the stack of bills the shooting booth operator had wagered against Vin.
"You cheated," the man snarled. "You ain't gettin' my money and you ain't keepin' that prize. Give it back!"
Ezra and Vin edged back from the ranting carny. Scowling roustabouts and other fairground workers were gathering, hemming them in, including a hairy nightmare of a man sporting a tiny, flowery hat. Vin glanced around, realizing that Buck was missing now too — and that the angry man in the ugly jacket was holding the mare's leg Vin had left on the booth's counter.
"Admit you cheated, and give me back that prize!" the carny snapped. His eyes were wild, but his grip on the weapon was steady and sure.
Ezra raised his hands agreeably; one twitch of the wrist away from triggering the hidden derringer and ventilating the nearest carny's skull.
"Regrettably, that remarkable prize is no longer in my possession. Perhaps another test of skill could settle this dispute? Double or noth—"
Ugly-jacket leveled the mare's leg at Ezra with the speed of a striking snake.
Vin was faster. A muffled pop sent their attacker to the ground, howling and clutching his bleeding leg. Vin tossed the pop gun aside in disgust. It wasn't the leg he'd been aiming for.
Together, he and Ezra dove for cover in the shooting gallery as bullets began flying.
"Explain later," Larabee said flatly, stalking away from Ezra and heading toward the nearest bucket brigade. Buck shrugged and followed, limping. He scanned the milling crowd, expecting to see Josiah, Nathan and JD in the crowd of helpers. They were nowhere to be seen.
Ezra huffed out a small laugh as he spotted the toy bunny head peeking out of Buck's coat pocket. The laugh cut off in a gasp as something hit him hard enough to leave him breathless.
He looked down and saw a knife handle protruding from his jacket.
TBC