It was hot. Uncommonly so. Hotter than it should be for this time of year. Even if it was California. That was
Scott Lancer's thoughts as he waited beside the freight office. He pushed his hat up further onto his forehead.
"It's a hot one today, ain't it, Scott?" a voice from behind him said.
Scott turned to look into Cory McFay's weathered face. "That it is," he agreed.
"Rain tomorrow," Cory said. "That'll be some relief."
"What makes you think it's going to rain?" Scott asked, curiously.
"My leg," Cory said, giving his right leg a slap. "It always lets me know when we've got rain a'comin. Got it hurt in the war,
did ya know that?"
"I think I did hear that," Scott said, knowing full well that he'd heard the story twenty times or more, from Cory himself.
"Well, there's no better rain barometer that this leg of mine, I'll tell ya that," Cory affirmed, giving his leg another slap for good measure.
"I'll look forward to the rain then," Scott said mildly.
"Train's late today," Cory said, in continued conversation, pulling a battered pocket watch from his vest pocket, and giving it a squint-eyed
look.
They stood in companionable silence until the whistle of the train blew in the distance, announcing its imminent arrival.
When the train had come to a screeching halt, Scott waited until the smoke cleared, and the doors of the cars began to be
slid open. After the freight office employee hopped up into the train car, and began handing off boxes
to another man, Scott went to lean inside.
"Have anything for Lancer?" he asked the handler from the freight office.
"Not for certain," the man answered. "Large? Or small?"
"Large. About the size of that one," Scott said, pointing at a box in the middle of the train car.
The man obligingly went to peer at the label on the box. "Doesn't say Lancer on this one. Go ahead and take a look-see if you want to."
"Thanks," Scott said, and began to walk amongst the boxes, checking the ones that had been loaded onto a baggage cart.
"Any luck?" the man from inside the train car called.
"Doesn't look like it," Scott said.
"Maybe tomorrow," the man suggested.
As Scott was nodding in response, and turning, he was met with a blow to his middle, that was strong enough to make
him take a couple of unexpected steps backwards. He put out his hands to steady the force that had plowed into him, and
looked down into a big pair of brown eyes, which were overshadowed by the over-sized hat the kid wore.
"Sorry, mister," the kid said, in a soft voice, and then continued the run down the sidewalk beside the depot.
"Stop that kid!" came a roar, as a burly, heavyset man stepped up from the street onto the sidewalk. "He's got
my wallet!"
Huffing and puffing from the exertion, the man stopped to catch his breath. "Grab him!" he hollered.
As Scott watched, he saw that the kid was caught, good and proper, by a Good Samaritan who had stepped up to
help out. The fat man ambled over to the accused thief, and took over where the Good Samaritan had left off. He grabbed
the kid by the front of the shirt.
"Give me my wallet!"
"I don't have it!" the kid protested.
"You're a lying little weasel!" the man insisted, and began to shake the kid. Hard. In that shaking, the over-sized hat
fell off the kid's head, and to the ground, and a mass of dark auburn hair tumbled out, and half-way down her back.
There was a collective murmur among the few folks that were still watching the drama unfold.
"A girl!" the fat man exclaimed, sounding shocked, and released his hold a bit. A fact which the kid took immediate advantage of,
sprinting back into flight.
Scott caught a glimpse of another kid, this one a little taller, who managed to hop into one of the train's empty cars
without notice.
There was an 'all aboard!' call given, and the train began to move, slowly at first, then picking up speed.
The girl ran, trying to catch up with the train that her cohart was on, but every time she put out her hand, the train seemed
to move out of her reach.
Scott moved closer, finding himself drawn into the drama. Finally, the kid had to give it up, the train picked up speed, and
went on down the tracks. The girl stopped, and doubled over, obviously trying to catch her breath.
The fat man was able to catch up to the kid, and grabbed her. He got a tight grip on her arm,
leaned into her face, and said, "We'll see how you like sitting in a jail cell, you little thief!"
"I don't have your wallet!" the girl protested again.
When the man began to rough the kid up, even going so far as to cuff her ear, Scott decided that he'd seen
plenty. He moved quickly. "That's enough," he said, with authority, to the other man.
Still huffing and puffing, the man dismissed Scott without even a glance. "Stay out of it, friend," he warned, and began to
shake the girl again.
"I said, 'that's enough'," Scott said, and put a hand on the man's shoulder, who gaze swept to Scott's in surprise.
Scott met that gaze unflinchingly. He took advantage of that surprise, using those seconds to take the girl's arm in his
hand, and pull her over behind him a bit.
"She took my coin purse," the other man protested. "Got all my traveling money in it, too!"
"There's no need for manhandling her," Scott said. He turned towards the girl, whose arm he still had ahold of.
"Do you have this man's money? His wallet?" he asked her.
"No!" the girl said, her breathing still ragged from running.
"You're a liar!" the fat man accused.
"Prove it!" the kid yelled, and the man reached for her angrily. The kid didn't flinch from his grabbing. She retaliated, from
her vantage point beside Scott, and gave a swift, hard kick to the other man's knee.
Obscenities flowed from his mouth, and he grasped his knee as if permanently injured.
"Stop grabbing at her," Scott ordered the other man. And then he turned his look onto the girl, who he saw now was slight, and
looked as though she was about ten or eleven. "And you, stop that kicking."
The kid's eyes widened a little. "I don't have his money, though," she protested.
"Alright. Easy enough to prove that. Take a walk over to the sheriff's office, and this can be settled," Scott suggested.
The girl's eyes widened, and he saw the fear in her eyes at the mention of the sheriff's office.
"Fine. Let's go," the fat man said, and reached out to grab the girl's arm.
She jerked back, and when it looked as though another physical scuffle was going to break out between them, Scott said
again, "Stop."
The girl looked at Scott, and said, "I won't go with him!"
Scott considered that, giving her a thoughtful look. "Will you go with me?" he asked.
After a moment's hesitation, the little girl nodded. though she still looked wary.
So the threesome began the trek across the street, and down the sidewalk towards Val's office, with Scott walking in
the middle.
Outside the office, the fat man pushed ahead, and went in first, beginning at once to bend Val's ear about what
had occurred.
Scott heard something that sounded suspiciously like 'bloated jackal' muttered under the little girl's breath. He paused
just outside the door to look down at the kid. "It might be wiser for you to refrain from that sort of name-calling," he
advised mildly.
Again the kid's eyes widened a little. "I didn't steal from him, mister," she said again, and Scott caught the trembling of her
chin before she turned tough again.
"Alright," he said, quietly.
The little girl regarded him with undisguised surprise.
"You believe me?" she asked Scott, sounding incredulous.
"Until you prove me wrong, I don't see any reason not to believe you."
By now Val was at the door of the office. "What in tarnation is goin' on here, Scott?" he asked. "How'd you come to
be involved in this?"
"Just lucky like that, I guess," Scott said.
Once inside the office, Val told the little girl to sit down, and had to quiet the fat man several times from his blustering.
Scott found himself a place to sit, on the edge of Val's big desk.
"What makes you think the girl has your money?" Val asked.
"I seen her. She was in my seat, goin' thru my coat pocket, when I got up to stretch my legs. Just before the train stopped."
Val turned to the little girl. "Is that true?"
"No."
"I saw her!" the fat man protested.
"It wasn't me," the girl insisted.
"Dressed just like she is," the man said to Val, gesturing towards the girl.
"Doesn't mean it was me," she maintained, and then muttered, "Bastardo."
"Hey, now," Val told her.
The little girl let her gaze flicker away from Val's stern face, looking instead towards Scott.
Scott shook his head just the slightest bit, and the little girl sighed, and subsided.
"Well, it's your word against hers," Val was saying to the fat man, who began to bluster again.
"Simmer down," Val said, raising his voice a little.
When the man continued to pace and rant, Val hooked a thumb towards the door.
"Get out," he ordered.
"What about my money?" he demanded.
"We're working on it," Val said, his tone curt. "But since you can't keep your mouth shut, get out until we do."
Blustering the whole way, the man went out, slamming the door.
Val looked towards Scott, and then at the girl.
"Seems we have a quandary here," he said to the little girl.
She regarded him with a fearful expression. "What's that mean?" she asked Val.
"It means, that if we want this to be settled, you're going to have to prove that it wasn't you that took this man's
wallet from his coat pocket."
"You mean you want to search me?" she asked.
"Well, something like that," Val told her.
In response, the girl crossed her arms tightly across her chest, her expression mutinous.
Val stood up, stepping over to Scott. "Probably ought to get a woman in here," he said, in a low voice.
Understanding his meaning, Scott nodded briefly. "What about Carrie, over at the hotel?" he asked.
Val nodded. "See if she can slip over."
Scott pushed off of the desk, and headed towards the door. He paused when the kid
said, "Hey, mister?"
When he looked back, the girl was sitting up straight in the chair, no longer slouching. She had uncrossed her arms, and
looked worried.
"Where are you going?" she asked.
"Across the street for a minute," Scott said.
"Are you coming back?"
Scott caught the plaintive tone to her question, and by the look of Val's raised eyebrows, Scott figured that he had caught it as well.
"I'll be back," he said, and the little girl looked visibly relieved.
When Scott came back to the office, escorting Carrie Dotts, who ran the hotel, it was to find Val nose to nose with the
child.
"You're only hurting yourself here," Val was telling her.
At the sight of Carrie coming in, Val took her aside, along with Scott and they had a low conversation.
He instructed Carrie to have the girl empty her pockets, and to 'pat her down' to make sure there wasn't a coin purse
hidden.
To Scott he said, in irritation, "Kid won't tell me her name, or who her people are. I know she's not from around here."
"I'm pretty sure she got off the train at the depot," Scott said. He wondered if he should mention the other kid that
he'd seen, and after a moment's thought, he did so.
"That kid's long gone," Val said. "Let's get this done."
He told the girl to go with Carrie to the back room, and that he would be waiting right outside, and not to try any
nonsense.
"I don't want this travesty to be prolonged any longer than absolutely necessary," the little girl said, with all the regalness of
a princess addressing her court. And then she got up and walked towards the back room.
Scott, Val and Carrie all exchanged glances.
"Well, my goodness," Carrie said, looking amused, "she's something, isn't she?"
"Let's go," Val said, and ushered Carrie to the back.
Scott waited, leaning at the window, watching the townspeople as they passed by.
After just a few minutes, the trio reemerged. Carrie said her goodbyes and went back across the street.
Scott turned to Val, waiting. There was a part of him that really wanted to hear that the kid didn't have the man's wallet
or money.
Val shook his head at Scott in answer.
The little girl had a satisfied half-smile on her face. "You all do this on a regular basis?" she asked. "Take visitors to your town
over to the sheriff, and have them frisked and treated like a criminal? All because some fat, old toad gets his long johns
in a bunch?"
A glance at Val showed his face turning red in anger.
"Now you listen, little missy," he said, turning on the child. "Just because you don't have the man's money, doesn't mean you're
off the hook. Why don't you explain why you were running away from him, if you had no reason to do so?"
The child gestured out the window to where the fat man could be seen, puffing on a cigar, and pacing up and down the sidewalk.
"If something like that was chasing YOU, wouldn't you run too?" she asked.
Val snorted and went to the door, pulling it open. "Kid's clear," he told the fat man. "She doesn't have your money."
Clearly disbelieving, the man tried to step around Val to come back inside. "That doesn't prove a thing," he denied. "She could
have hid it somewhere! Maybe by the depot."
"You're full of something," the little girl called, "and it's not daisies!"
"You little brat-" the obese man said, and tried to make a grab for her.
"That's enough," Val snapped, and gave the man a hefty push outside, following him out, where he had to continue to try to reason
with him.
Scott turned to look down at the girl, and she looked back at him.
"I told you I didn't have it, didn't I?" she said, and gave him a grin that showed dimples.
"That's what you told me," Scott said mildly.
When he continued to regard her with a serious and thoughtful expression, the little girl's smile faded.
"How come you're looking at me like that?" she asked.
Scott took his time in answering, pulling out a chair and sitting down, and resting one foot on the opposite knee.
"I was just thinking," he said, in a casual way, "that you're sassy for somebody that's in the fix that you are."
"What fix?" she asked, her forehead wrinkling. "I proved I don't have his money!"
"Yeah. You did that, alright," Scott said, in apparent easy agreement.
"So why would I be in a fix?" she asked.
"Well, it doesn't seem to me that our friend out there is going to be satisfied without some answers," Scott said.
The little girl went over near the window, looking at the man standing with Val.
She turned back towards Scott. "I don't have any answers for him."
"Maybe your traveling partner does though, right?" Scott asked.
Something crossed over the child's face before she could mask it. "Huh?" she asked.
"Your friend. The one that was running behind you just after you got caught. The one that managed to
get on the train."
The child's eyes widened. She was silent, looking at Scott.
"Maybe that's the one that took his wallet?" Scott suggested, casually. "Since you were dressed so similar, it'd be an
easy mistake for him to have made, getting the two of you confused. Suppose that's what happened?"
The little girl's expression became mutinous again. She flung herself in a chair.
A moment later, the door opened, and shut with a healthy slam.
"Alright," Val said. "Time to talk names here, little missy."
L4ever