PART 2:
Chapter 12: Thin Ice
Ezra landed hard on the ground, the pain of the knife sticking out of his side, just above his hip, quickly making itself known after the initial shock. He gasped, as if he'd been holding his breath, and looked around for help.
There was none to be found. Chris and Buck had gone to help with the fire, Vin after his mare's leg, Josiah and Nathan and JD nowhere in sight, and everyone else at the fair occupied either with putting the fire out or clearing up the chaos.
"Oh dear," he muttered, realized just how effectively this situation had arisen. Seven men had come to the fair, all guarding the singular piece of evidence that could set free a man unjustly accused of murder—a priceless, one of a kind amethyst necklace with a blue diamond centerpiece. It was a masterpiece in purple, with a masterfully thin, delicate gold chain holding it together and a nearly-round, bluish diamond at the center – the Blue Moon. Now, with almost no effort, all seven had been split up, fully distracted by the goings on that, in hindsight, were likely all planned.
Leaving Ezra alone.
And bleeding. A lot.
He pressed his hands around the knife, trying to forestall the flow of blood, and then tried to call out, but the intake of breath hurt too much. All he managed was a weak, "help."
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a pair of red heels sashay towards him, followed by an old pair of boots that had clearly seen better years. He looked up as the woman got closer, and frowned to find himself the study of a petite, redheaded woman, a pale yellow snake around her neck. Behind her, an old man chewing on a piece of straw, and dressed like a pirate – or perhaps someone's vision of a swashbuckler. The pirate smiled slightly at Ezra and raised a rifle to point directly at Ezra's head.
"How do you like my show?" the woman asked with a purr. "Better than the last one I gave you, sugah?"
And, instantly, Ezra knew who she was. Under the carnival makeup and the bright red wig was Sarah Heisenberg, one of the richest women in the west—and supposedly murdered three weeks ago in Clarke's Town, Texas by her husband. If JD hadn't spotted her in Four Corners recently, she might have gotten away with it, too. She'd escaped when they'd tried to catch her, but she'd left behind the necklace—The Blue Moon - her signature piece of jewelry, and the evidence that would forestall her husband's hanging in three days' time.
"Your last show had style," Ezra said, coughing liquidly. "This one seems a little coarse." The previous show she'd "given" had been what allowed her to escape Four Corners.
"Perhaps, but I'd say this one was far more colorful. Hell, it's practically on fire! Everywhere you look, you can see all sorts of reds, oranges, yellows…" She offered a sickly smile with obvious false teeth as she knelt in front of him, her hand reaching to touch the knife handle. "But, I like red in particular." She said, pressing on the handle, and causing Ezra to howl. He grabbed at her wrist to stop her, only to feel the snake sink its fangs into his skin. The snake let go and Ezra pulled his arm to his chest.
"Don't worry, sugah," she said as he stared in horror at the bite wound. "Baby here isn't poisonous." She petted the snake. "At least as far as I know. He's really just on loan."
Ezra glared at her, knowing he was crying in pain now, but unwilling to give her the satisfaction of it.
"Tell you what," Sarah said then. "You tell me where the necklace is that you took from the boy, and I'll make sure your friends know that you need help. What do you say?"
Ezra swallowed, desperately trying to think of a stall. First thing that came to mind was: "I don't know where it is."
"You were seen taking it from the boy," she said in reply to his lie, her voice still syrupy, but now with an edge. "That means you know where it is."
"I gave it away."
"To whom?"
"To the Texas District Attorney we were sent here to meet. You're too late."
Her eyebrows lifted, momentarily surprised, and then she started to laugh. The old pirate laughed as well.
"Please," she said, pressing a hand to her chest as if to still the laughter. "If I hadn't seen that man and the rangers with him murdered a few hours ago by my men, I might have believed you." Her head tilted, like a mother amused by the antics of her baby. Her smile fell completely. "But I did see him murdered. Which means you're lying." She grabbed at his jacket. "Now where is my necklace? I want the Blue Moon, now."
Ezra felt the derringer on his arm, but also clearly saw the rifle barrel directed right at his face by the old man. He was stuck. He needed a way out, but his mind was so befuddled by pain that he just couldn't think of one.
What the hell was he going to do?
Chapter 13: Without a Paddle
A muffled explosion rumbled and vibrated the air. The ground quivered. A ball of flames rocketed into the sky. Screams echoed and people flowed by JD with increased speed.
Panic saturated the air.
"Oh my gosh," JD exclaimed. He tilted his head back, keeping his hand on his hat watching stronger flames flicker upward. "Nathan, Josiah. I got to help the others," JD whispered to himself. He shook his leg one last time in an attempt to dislodge the terrible creature. He garnered no success and took off between tents.
The terrier snarled and jerked about, attempting to disrupt Dunne's hitching pace. The small dog passed around stakes and tent lines, leaping sideways, twisting left and right with unparalleled agility.
JD wove and weaved his way between tents. He broke into an open alley. People streamed past in harried panic. Across the lane, and a few tents over, the fire blazed - seemingly unchecked. JD forced his way across the torrent of panicked carnival goers, smoothly shoving people forward and backward rolling and skimming his way toward the fire and growing black smoke.
The terrier kept its grip.
JD zigged and zagged around canvas structures, shaky, wood pole corrals and small stacks of hastily baled straw.
The white, black spotted terrier bounced and careened over obstacles, never loosening his grip.
As JD drew near the flames, heat permeated the area in shimmering vertical waves that obscured structures in front of him. He held his hands to his face and tucked his chin behind his shoulder as he twisted away from the heat.
"Oh Gosh, oh Gosh". Dunne tried to shoulder his way forward through the curtain of heat, toward the wall of flame. His eyes watered and reflexively closed as walls of heat and smoke pulsed over him.
Bodies lay scattered on the ground amongst moving figures. All seemed bent and wilted away from the heat and smoke. Amongst the unmoving, a long dark figure lay sprawled on his back, a dark calloused hand flung outward and unmoving. JD watched with streaming, squinting eyes as a bigger, older figure crawled toward the dark figure.
Nathan? Josiah?
A tiny explosion sent smoke and flame suddenly ballooning toward JD forcing him back a step, forcing his eyes closed as he shielded himself from the charring heat.
JD cursed. He attempted to move forward, shielding his face with his up raised arms.
The terrier held fast. He moved, inched toward the down figures, toward his friends, toward the towering flames but a searing blast of heat washed over him in the building breeze.
JD was forced backward, twisting closer to the ground.
The terrier crouched low behind JD's heel, silent hiding from the heat, but relentless in its tenacity.
JD absently patted the dog in an attempt to soothe his own racing emotions. The terrier yanked on his pant leg in response.
Movement to his left grabbed JD's attention. A squat black hat rolled on its rim in the breeze across dried grass. He recognized the hatband. JD focused on the hat and then noticed the prone body a few yards away, nestled between two tightly placed tents. More importantly, JD noticed the knife, then the gun and finally yellow snake-decorated villain threatening his friend.
Chapter 14: I was the Boy to Brave the Dark (Oysterband)
At the sound of the explosion, Nathan dove forward. The thick scent of TNT surrounded him as dirt rained down. It stunned him for a moment, but he was up and moving again, determined.
Josiah made a desperate grab for his friend, but Nathan evaded him, disappearing again into the tent. With a groan, Josiah went in after him.
Had someone stored explosives here at the carnival? It made no sense. Was someone deliberately setting off charges?
"Nathan!" Josiah shouted as forced his way deeper into the Freak Show tent. "Nathan!" he was choking on the smoke. Quickly, he lost Nathan in the maze of stalls and cubicles, and he was beginning to fear that he'd be unable to find his way out again. He reached and grasped hold of something. In the haze, it seemed to be some sort of a huge oyster shell – part of a stage for the band. He kept moving.
He could hear someone coughing nearby. Forcing himself toward the sound, he stumbled through the black haze, falling to his knees. "Nathan!" he shouted again.
He never should have left that pie tent. To think, right now he could be surrounded by pies and beautiful women - breathing sweet air. Why did he pawn the judging off on Buck?
Because Nathan had that look – Josiah had recognized it. Nathan was hot on the trail of the Freak Tent, and as soon as he found it, nothing would stop him from getting in, even now with everything on fire.
Flames licked at the periphery of his vision, but around him, the smoke swirled thick and dark and impenetrable. He kept crawling forward, desperate to find his indefatigable friend.
He could hardly breathe. "Nathan!" he choked out as he reached through the blackness, toward the coughing sound. His hand clasped on a booted ankle, and he pulled himself toward it.
"Nathan," he choked. "We have to get out."
He felt along the leg, ready to get Nathan to his feet. When his hand traveled further, he jerked back, gasping when he found a handful of thick skirt and petticoats. He was manhandling a woman.
She jerked under his touch, surprised.
In the blackness, he could see nothing.
"Sorry," he gasped, "But we have to get out of here." He helped her to sit up, and then to get onto her hands and knees. She was coughing hard, a rough smoke-choked cough.
Josiah helped guide her toward what once was the exit. He could see the hopeful light through the darkness.
Smoke swirled thickly here, forcing itself through the opening. Josiah kept his hand on the woman, pushing her onward.
Nathan. Where was Nathan? He looked furtively over his shoulder, hoping to see his friend, hoping to see anything. There was nothing but an opaque veil of smoke behind him.
He'd get the woman out and then go back.
Suddenly - after the blackness, the heat and the choking air - they tumbled out into the daylight.
They were both gasping and coughing, trying to clear the smoke from their lungs. Josiah wiped at his eyes as he took a deep draught of air, only to cough it out. Air, delicious air.
He glanced back at the tent. It was all smoke and blackness. Orange flames licked the canvas. It was being consumed. It would be gone in another minute.
Nathan.
He had to go back.
He turned to the woman to tell her that everything was going to be okay, and was momentarily stunned to silence.
At first, he thought her face was coated with soot, but that image was swept away. She was scaled, her face covered with a rough, dark, horny layer of skin.
He blinked and looked away. "I have to…" he started, turning back to the tent, when a form staggered out.
Nathan rolled for a moment, as if afraid that he was on fire. When he came up, he was facing Josiah. A look of relief immediately reached him. When he glanced to the woman, his mouth opened in a surprised grin.
He coughed and then called, "Ginny!" And he crawled to the crocodile-skinned woman.
She was still fighting to draw breath. It was getting easier as she hacked out the bad air, but the moment she looked up to see Nathan, she gasped in delight. She opened arms, and Nathan gathered her up.
"Oh, Nathan," she said sweetly. "I'm so happy to see you."
Chapter 15: Burnout
Vin flattened himself against the side of a booth, fighting back the cough that was clawing at his throat. The wind had shifted, sending acrid smoke billowing his way. He squinted through the haze, wishing Chris and the others would appear and knowing they wouldn't, not while half the fair was on fire and half the town was running around in blind panic.
But he could sure use Ezra and his stash of extra weaponry right about now.
Vin glanced down at his current weapon — an oversized mallet he'd snagged from an abandoned strongman game. He'd seen fairgoers taking wild swings with it earlier in the day, trying to ring a bell at the top of a tall pole. He hefted it experimentally, picturing Jimmy Sureshot's face on the receiving end.
He risked another glance around the corner, eyes narrowing as he watched the rival sharpshooter's odd behavior. Sureshot had paused outside a rickety wooden storage shed, ignoring the fire and growing chaos around him as he argued with a group of harried-looking carnies.
"What the hell, Earl?" Sureshot gave a shove to a hulking roustabout who was carrying a heavy burlap sack, almost as big as himself, slung over one shoulder. The blow had about as much effect on the big man as slapping a brick wall. "You were supposed to light the place up tonight! After dark! So it'd look like an accident with the lamps!"
Earl ducked his head and looked sheepish. "Boss's orders," he said, nodding toward the distant glow of burning tents and the panicked throng. "Way too many law dogs crawling around the place right now, she said."
"Pirate Pete's already setting off explosives?" Sureshot added.
Earl shrugged, no mean feat with the bag on his shoulder. "I think the fire just got to some of his stash."
With an aggravated gesture, Sureshot stepped aside and waved the big man toward the shed. Earl yanked the door open and tossed his bundle inside. It landed with a meaty thump.
Sureshot grabbed a glowing lantern from one of the waiting carnies and smashed it against the side of the wooden shed. The burning lamp oil spattered the wooden structure and caught, licking hungrily up the wooden planks. Sureshot shot a suspicious glance around and Vin ducked back behind cover.
By the time he looked out again, the shed was ablaze and Sureshot was on the move. Vin scrambled toward the shed. The flames hadn't reached the door yet, but sparks scalded his hands as he wrenched it open. Coughing, he reached down and grabbed the object Earl had tossed inside.
He yanked, trying to drag it clear of the blaze, but only succeeded in ripping the burlap.
A hand tumbled loose from the torn fabric, cold and still. Vin widened the tear in the burlap, revealing a stranger with the leathery face of an outdoorsman. There was a bullet hole dead-center in the man's forehead - and a Texas Ranger star pinned to his coat.
Swearing, Vin reeled back from the dead ranger, gasping for air, his mind racing. The last thing he needed was to get caught standing over another dead Texan. One bounty on his head was enough.
What the hell were the Texans doing here so soon, anyway? They weren't due to arrive in town until this evening, to meet up with JD and Larabee and examine the evidence. By then, Vin was supposed to be well on his way back to Four Corners. If he'd known the district attorney was bringing rangers with him, he would've stayed home.
There was movement in the distance, and Vin spotted Sureshot again, trailed this time by a pair of scrawny carnival workers with another burlap sack slung between them.
This bundle was kicking and squirming.
Vin started to follow, when something fluttered before his eyes, blown by the storm winds bearing down on the unlucky fair. Without thinking, he reached out a hand and caught it.
It was a tiny, flowery hat.
Footsteps thundered up behind him. Vin whirled to find the Wildman of West WalloWallo bearing down on him like a frantic, furry tumbleweed. Bobo skidded to a halt and stood panting, staring at the hat in Vin's hand with desperate intensity.
Vin stood with the hat in one hand and the strongman mallet in the other. Slowly, he stretched out a hand, offering the hat back to its owner.
A snaggle-toothed grin broke through the tangled mat of hair on Bobo's face. His beady eyes twinkled under his receding forehead as he launched himself at Vin, pancaking the hat between them in a bone-cracking hug. The handle of the mallet snapped like a twig between them.
"Much obliged!" Bobo crowed, releasing Vin and tugging up his flowery pantaloons, which had begun to sag dangerously. He settled the hat back on his head at a jaunty angle. "I owe you one, pard!"
Vin took a cautious step backward, tossing the shattered mallet aside. "My pleasure," he said, shooting a glance toward the fast-moving fugitives with their suspicious burden. "How 'bout you go help out with the fire and we'll call it even?"
Bobo nodded enthusiastically. Before Vin could say anything more, the wild man grabbed a burning plank from the shed and tossed it toward a neighboring tent, which immediately began to smolder.
"No, wait—" Vin began, but Bobo had already grabbed another makeshift torch and was running down a row of tents, poking his torch at anything that looked flammable.
Vin glanced up, hoping for rain while there was still something left of Cedar Ridge and its fairgrounds. Lightning flashed, and thunder rumbled close behind. The sky was taking on an ominous greenish cast. Vin sprinted after Sureshot.
He caught up to the group on the outskirts of town. The two undersized carnies were hauling their struggling cargo into the root cellar of a dilapidated building that looked like it had been abandoned for years. Vin slowed, painfully aware that he was standing in the open, back-lit by the fires of the burning fairgrounds.
He took a step closer, only to collapse to his knees as something cracked against the back of his skull. The last thing he saw, as the ground tilted crazily under him, was Sureshot, grinning down at him as the first drops of rain began to fall.
When Vin opened his eyes again, he was sitting on the dirt floor of a low-ceilinged root cellar, roped to a wooden support beam. He blinked, and slowly a second face swam into focus in the dim light. A middle-aged man with keen eyes and a handlebar mustache sat tied to a neighboring pillar, with a bloody bandage wrapped around his shoulder.
The stranger spit out the grubby kerchief someone had shoved in his mouth and introduced himself.
"District Attorney Leander Matthews." The Texan's drawl was hoarse, but still carried the authority of a man used to getting his own way.
Matthews squinted back at Vin. "Your face seems familiar," he said. "Have I seen you somewhere before?"
Chapter 16: Stone Circles or Cairns
"Where is it?" she screamed in his face again, Ezra already blinking a bit muzzily from the pain. She was shaking him, and it hurt. It really hurt. He just wanted it to stop.
"Buck…" he said finally. "Buck has it. Please…"
She stopped shaking him and studied his face for a long moment. "That stuffed toy," she said. "I saw you give it to that other man." She nodded and let go, and he slumped forward.
"Kill him," she ordered.
"HEY!" a voice shouted from nearby, and Ezra couldn't help but smile. "Let him go!"
Ezra looked up as JD, both pistols raised and pointed at the old pirate, stumbled into view, a terrier tight on his heel. Scratch that, it wasn't just on his heel, it was eating it.
The old man twisted to point the rifle at JD, and Heisenberg—still crouched down in front of Ezra—twisted her neck to look over her shoulder.
The derringer popped into his hand with a flick of his wrist and he had it pressed to her throat.
"Tell your man to drop his weapon," he snarled.
Heisenberg froze. Carefully, without moving her head, she said, "Dad, put your rifle down."
The old man growled, looked back at the two of them, and then did as he was told. By then, JD had reached them, despite his obviously tenacious handicap. The pirate whistled and the dog let go instantly, happily moving to stand at his master's side.
"Now what?" Heisenberg asked, her teeth gritted.
"Now you—"
Gunshots exploded out of nowhere, and JD gasped, falling to his knees.
"No!" Ezra shouted, he pointed the tiny gun towards the origin of the shots, popping off two bullets. In that time, Heisenberg had bounced back to her feet and was running off, her old man and his pet in tow. The rifle was left on the ground.
JD growled, rolled and bounced back up, shooting in the same direction as Ezra. They caught sight of an ugly green striped jacket ducking behind tent that was already half engulfed in flames. Smoke soon filled the gap between them—no one would be seeing through that.
The kid took advantage of the distraction to get his arms under Ezra's shoulders and haul him to his feet.
"Can you walk?" JD asked, glancing down at the knife and the blood before returning his attention to finding potential attackers. He had just one arm around Ezra now, and Ezra leaned into him heavily.
"With your help, yes." Ezra said. "But I'm not sure how far—"
"There's a circle of boulders on one side of the fair, near the carousel. It's not far," JD said, already moving and forcing Ezra to match his step. "You'll be safe inside there until I can get you help. The fire shouldn't get you there."
Ezra didn't question. He trusted JD.
The kid dragged him almost too quickly through a mess of tents, Ezra blinking back the pain and exhaustion the whole time until he lost all sense of his surroundings. Then, finally, he felt himself being lowered to the ground, his back being set to rest against a cool, sun bleached boulder stone. Similar large boulders surrounded him on all sides, and a tiny stream bubbled out and ran in a tiny rivulet next to him.
"Don't drink that," JD said, as if Ezra was stupid. "I'll get you water and Nathan. In the meantime…" He carefully pulled off his jacket, and ripped off one of his shirtsleeves. "Let go," he ordered.
Ezra released his hold of his wound around the still protruding knife handle. He watched as JD pressed the cloth around the knife and then pushed the cloth hard into Ezra's hip. Ezra gasped in pain, his eyes widening at the abruptness of it.
"Now you hold it, press as tight as you can, okay? You're still bleeding - not a lot, I don't think, but you need it to stop. Hold that…" He pressed Ezra's clearly reluctant hands against the cloth and pushed, until he obviously felt Ezra was keeping up the pressure up as best as he could. "Good, good." JD tried to smile, his pale face barely maintaining the façade as he carefully pulled on his jacket. "Now just sit tight and I'll—"
"JD, wait…" Ezra grasped at JD's lapel, drawing him down. JD winced a little at the motion, but dutifully got closer.
"Buck…I told her Buck had the necklace. The bunny. You have to warn him."
JD frowned. "What? Why does…? No, wait, I don't want to know. But I will. I'll tell 'em everything. That was her, wasn't it? And the people shooting at us, those were her bad guys?"
Ezra nodded weakly, and then leaned his head back, his eyes closing. When he'd seen the dog going after JD's food earlier, he'd thought it looked familiar-like one he'd seen in Four Corners when Heisenberg had been in town. He'd had an idea of how to better hide the necklace, just in case...
He hadn't, though, expected the knife.
He was ready for a nap. A nap would be good.
"I'll be back before you know it," JD promised. "Just don't die, okay? Don't die."
Ezra tried to smile, opening his eyes again to reassure the kid. "Don't worry, my survival instincts are still very much present," he said. JD's smile widened, and with a nod, he was up and limping away. Ezra frowned at the shredded pants leg, and then looked up just as JD disappeared around the rock.
Wait…was that blood on the back of JD's jacket, near the shoulder?
"JD…" he called, but his voice was too weak to be loud. He frowned again, realizing that the boy obviously knew he was in trouble, but hadn't wanted Ezra to know.
Damn it, he had really wanted to rest, - his whole body was ready to just settle in for a while. But he couldn't let the kid go out there without back-up, not with a bullet in his shoulder. He wouldn't be able to shoot straight.
Ezra looked down at the knife, and considered pulling it out. He couldn't walk with it in there. He could barely move at all so long as it stayed in there. He knew full well it could kill him to pull it, but the kid was going to need help. He hadn't bled that much, perhaps it would be alright…
He looked up towards the skies overhead, for advice, and felt a fat drop of rain land directly on his nose.
"Oh, of course," he growled, "Isn't that just perfect."
Chapter 17: Fear
Chris looked up, dented metal bucket in hand, as the rain began to pound the fairgrounds. It didn't bother to begin with a slow sprinkle, no, instead the sky had opened up and they were instantly drenched. He tossed the bucket to the man next to him. The rain would put out the fire soon. Now he needed to find his men and regroup.
Looking around the chaos, though, Larabee realized it was even harder to see in the rain and accompanying steam then it had been with the smoke. He squinted and tried to get his bearings. Where was everyone?
Thunder boomed deafeningly just as lightning cracked across the sky.
Chris instinctively ducked and swore. The wind began to pick up and he was forced to hold onto his hat.
"Chris!" He heard the faint shout and spun around, searching. Was that Buck?
"Chris!" He spotted Buck this time, jumping and waving, on the other side of a sea of people.
His relief of seeing Wilmington was overwhelmed by a sudden sense of foreboding, of fear. Something wasn't right.
Buck paused and turned as if something had attracted his attention, and he was hidden from view again as the fairgoers moved like a wall between them.
And then, the crowd dissipated. And Buck was gone.
Chris ran forward, turning this way and that in the deluge.
"Chris! Chris! Ezra's hurt!"
Larabee looked up and had just enough time to catch JD as the kid collapsed in front of him. Chris took on his weight, staggering for a moment. "JD?" He clutched the young sheriff carefully, studying him and trying to figure out what was wrong.
"Ezra's hurt," JD said again, his head sagging.
Chris could see the stain of blood across JD's soaking wet back, and he hissed out a breath. "Damn."
"Buck!" Larabee shouted over the sound of the rain and the wind, but got no response. He could hardly see anything anymore. "Wilmington!" he called again. For a moment Chris wondered if he'd even seen Buck at all.
Carefully, he angled his shoulder under JD's arm, getting him to his feet and helping him stagger forward.
"Buck!" he called again, ducking his head in the rainfall. Then, he spotted it. Wilmington's black hat floating in a puddle.
He frowned when something else caught his eye. It was either a wig or a drowned cat. He hoped it was a wig because no cat should ever be that shade of red.
Chapter 18: Here There be Dragons
The rain came down in a torrent, as if someone had suddenly overturned a bathtub on top of them all. The raging fire immediately retreated.
Josiah dipped his head and rain ran off the brim of his hat in rivulets. He stood, raising arms to the sky, exulting in the precipitation. Thunder crashed above and he thoughtfully, quickly, lowered his hands to his side, not wanting to draw the ire of an avenging god.
At least the gunfire had stopped. Was it simply because the shooting gallery had finally been abandoned? The sharpness of some of those shots seemed too loud to be coming from those child-sized weapons.
Nathan was helping the crocodile-lady to her feet. She was still coughing roughly, but seemed capable of standing. Behind her, the freak tent's singed sign displayed a half-lizard lady named 'Terra-Bella', showing a creature with a mouth full of teeth and a slashing tail.
"Nathan," she said as she leaned on him. "Thank goodness you're here!" She looked to Josiah, saying, "Thank you. I was overwhelmed in the smoke."
Josiah smiled at her, no longer surprised by her strange appearance – caused by some sort of skin condition. "I'm just glad I could help," he said as he glanced about, knowing that they should be moving. The fires were dying, but help was certainly needed still. It would be good to get out of the rain.
"What were you doing in there?" Nathan asked. "I thought everyone was out."
She smiled smugly. "Just making sure I had everything." She pulled up the hem of her skirt. Her skin was dark and pebbly-looking. Josiah noted a knife in a sheath, strapped to the leg, and just above it, a garter trapped a thick folded paper. She grinned at Nathan wickedly. Wind whipped past them, trying to draw the skirt up to an inappropriate level, and she immediately pulled it back into place as the rain fell.
She gazed back at the tent they'd just escaped, smiling as the rain poured down on it. Wind yanked at the ruined canvas, making it flutter and flap. "Yes," she whispered, watching water do its wonders. "Thank you, thank you, Lord, for stopping the flames!" Turning back to Nathan, she said, "They wanted to burn it all."
"Who?" Nathan asked, helping her to stand. "Who was trying to burn everything?"
"Jimmy Sureshot and Pirate Pete," she spat out the names.
"Jimmy Sureshot?" Josiah tried the name. "Pirate Pete?"
"The pirate is really Archie Clarke," Ginny informed him. "He's no good at it though. Never could do a good impression of a pirate, not like Tom."
When the others looked a question at her, she explained, "Long-John Tom ran the carousel – 'Blackbeard's Secret World'. It was all his. He was a great pirate." Ginny smiled sweetly, but the expression quickly changed to sadness. "I think they killed him. He disappeared a month ago, but Tom wouldn't leave us in the lurch. Not like that! He wouldn't have left his carousel. It's his world."
She went on, "I should've stayed behind to look for him, but…" and she trailed off, and her fierce look was replaced with a melancholy expression. "It's not that easy for some of us. And then Archie Clarke showed up, saying he was 'Pirate Pete' and he would take over for poor Tom. And Sureshot took over the shooting gallery."
She pushed away from Nathan and stood at her full height, an impressive stature. As she slowly turned about, quickly surveying the ruin, she had a beautiful regality about her.
"Don't dilly dally," she said, and suddenly she was in motion, striding in between the steaming tents. The rain poured down while the wind pushed everything about. Naked tent poles waved, burned canvas furled like flags and the sky flashed and roared. The once eclectic purple ornaments that decorated the tents had been singed to blacks and grays. Ginny the Crocodile-lady moved through them.
"You know her?" Josiah asked as they followed.
"Long story," Nathan said, and then he raised his voice above the wind and rain to call, "Ginny, what's happening?"
"Heisenberg, that bitch! If she's a snake charmer, then my left butt cheek is going to run for President." She continued moving, checking everywhere. "She doesn't know the first thing about pythons. That poor snake is suffering. She doesn't know enough to keep her warm. It's a shame because she's a beauty."
"Heisenberg?" Josiah echoed. "Wait a minute, isn't she…"
"The snake charmer. She called herself Alberta, but I sussed out the truth." Ginny shook her head, looking a little annoyed. "Keep up!" she demanded as they moved.
Josiah looked to Nathan, surprised by this news.
Ginny went on, "She joined us with Sureshot and Pirate Pete the rest of them last week. I told our manager that he shouldn't be bringing on so many people at the same time, but he's the most naive manager I've ever seen. Dumber than a box of hair." She kept checking into every vacated tent, pulling back flaps that whipped cruelly into her face. "I'm sure she's behind all of this. Sureshot doesn't have the brains. The pirate is useless."
When they stepped free of the row of tents and into a clearing, they paused. There were bodies on the ground. Nathan went to them immediately, while Ginny and Josiah watched.
"Gone," Nathan said dourly. "The smoke got to them, I think."
Josiah stood over them, uttering a prayer.
Ginny looked morose as she squatted beside one, softly touching a shoulder. "I don't know them," she said quietly. "They must be guests. Those poor souls." She closed her eyes a moment and then said angrily, "Those sons of bitches didn't even care who was in the way of their plan."
"What plan?" Josiah asked. "What's going on here?"
She shook her head. "I'm not entirely sure about all of it, but I think I've pieced together a few things."
She stood and scanned the area, rain cascading down her nearly-hairless head and down her back, as Nathan continued to examine the bodies in the rain.
Chapter 19: No Good Deed Goes Unpunished
Pulling the knife out may have been a mistake.
Ezra picked his way unsteadily through the storm, one hand pressed against his side, the other outstretched to grab any surface that wasn't on fire and that might support his weight. Mistake or not, it was easier to move without a sharp piece of metal digging into him with every step — and Ezra needed to move. He needed to find Buck and JD.
The rain blurred the milling crowds and mixed with the smoke from the dying fires to turn the entire fairgrounds into a grey haze. Ezra swiped irritably at his eyes, wishing he could remember where he'd left his hat. He blinked tears and rainwater away, trying to bring the chaos around him into some sort of focus.
He needed to find Buck, and warn him about the knife-happy harridan on his trail. He needed to make this right. He needed to find JD, and see that his gunshot shoulder was tended.
He scanned the crowd, pausing as he came to the garish billboards advertising the freak tent. The tent itself was a smoldering wreck in the distance. There, crouched the familiar shapes of Nathan and Josiah. Ezra sagged in relief and started toward them.
Something large and soggy loomed before him, blocking his way.
"Ezra!" It was Buck's voice, and Buck's plaid shirt he was standing nose-level with in the rain. Ezra latched on to Buck's coat sleeve, grateful to have something to lean on that wasn't in flames.
"Ezra?" Buck's worried face swam into focus. Ezra took a deep breath, ready to deliver his warning, and then doubled over with a groan, clutching his side.
"What the hell?" Buck hissed, catching Ezra as he sagged. He looped an arm under his shaking shoulders and began dragging him, yelling for Chris at the top of his lungs.
Ezra glanced back longingly toward the receding figures of Nathan and Josiah, but couldn't draw in enough air to speak.
"Chris!" Buck waved frantically at someone Ezra couldn't see. The muddy ground beneath his feet seemed to pitch and yaw like a ship in rough seas. Glancing down, he saw the stitched smile of a stuffed bunny peeking out of Buck's waistband.
"Buck," he gasped, tugging his sleeve again to get his attention. "Trouble…"
"We got trouble, all right, pard," Buck agreed, still lugging him through the crowd. "But we also got Chis Larabee - CHRIS! - So why don't you hold tight and let us take care of—oof!"
Buck's pep talk cut off abruptly as he was tackled by carnies from three directions. Ezra tumbled free of the pile, clutching the stuffed bunny in one bloodied hand. He gave it a dazed smile.
His smile fell as a tiny spotted dog launched itself at him like a furry cannonball and clamped its jaws around the toy. The little terrier landed, evading Ezra's feeble grab. It gave the bunny a viscous shake, then scuttled off with it, tail wagging.
Ezra fell back into the mud. Beside him, the carnies were hauling Buck to his feet, bruised and bleeding, but still putting up a fight.
"Enough!"
Ezra let out a feeble gargle of protest as Sarah Heisenberg looped a wiry arm under his chin, exposing his neck to the blade she had produced from somewhere in the gaudy skirts of her carnival costume. The fight went out of Buck immediately. Ezra shuddered as the yellow snake glided down Heisenberg's arm and began to coil around his chest.
Heisenberg pushed the sopping wet wig off her head, exposing the mousey brown of her natural curls. Without the wig and with most of the makeup scrubbed off by the rain, she looked much more like the high society matron who was supposed to be entombed in a lavish family plot back in Clarke's Town.
"Too many eyes around here," Heisenberg snapped, glancing around. "Put them with the others. We'll get that necklace out of them if I have to slice them into pieces." She glanced to Sureshot who hovered nearby. "Get that toy away from that dog!"
Buck braced himself as the largest carny cocked back a fist. When he opened his eyes again, he was tumbling out of a burlap sack and onto the dirt floor of some sort of dim, musty cellar. His pockets were roughly searched, then one of Heisenberg's flunkies dragged him across the room and roped him against a pillar.
They repeated the procedure on Ezra, who slumped motionless against the ropes, his face ghostly pale in the dim light. There was movement from one of the burlap bags as a huge yellow snake slowly unspooled itself from its confinement. It nosed the air for a moment, and then slithered across the floor to coil again around the injured man's torso.
"Git away from him!" Buck hissed. He kicked out one foot, grazing one of Ezra's boots. The snake ignored him, spiraling up Ezra's chest until its wedge-shaped head nestled in the crook of his neck. The carnies jeered as they backed out of the root cellar. The door slammed shut with a solid thunk and Buck could hear the rattle of chains as someone locked them in.
For a moment, there was silence. Then.
"'Ey, pard," Vin's voice floated out of the darkness. "Nice of you two to join the party."
Buck let out a whoop as he craned his neck and spotted Vin and a stranger, trussed to pillars on the other side of the room.
"You ol'—" he started, but Vin cut him off.
"Don't believe we've met. Name's Yosemite," he drawled. "And this fella right next to me is a genuine Texas District Attorney."
Chapter 20: Unsung Heroes
The tiny terrier dodged between tents, leaping tie downs and darting between legs. The stuffed bunny's limbs bounced and flopped offering no hindrance to the tiny dog's forward rush.
"Come here, you dirty little mongrel!" Jimmy Sureshot rushed after the fleeing terrier. The mare's leg bounced against his shoulder.
The dog paid no heed. It zigzagged effortlessly between gaggles of shifting legs, avoided spilling water of the faltering bucket brigade. The terrier effortlessly leaped puddles twice its length, dragging its prize with him.
Sureshot shoved people out of his way. His boots became saturated with rainwater. He limped slightly, the wound from the pellet was hardly a hindrance. He sloshed through deep puddles and knocked a bucket from the helping hands of a bucket brigader without apology. He cursed the tiny dog and all others that entered his vision.
He kept his jaundice eyes on the fleeting white-tailed, black-splotched demon as it bounced and twisted its way past obstacles. Jimmy Sureshot hated the little dog's sense of play and tag. He despised the way the terrier always wanted to play keep away and chase. Sureshot loathed chasing anything.
"Oh, I know how to stop you," Sureshot slowed to a stop. He shrugged Vin's mare's leg from his shoulder allowing it to slide into his muddied hands. He raised the mare's leg to his poorly fleshed shoulder. Sureshot spit a string of tobacco juice as he exhaled trying to rein in his breath.
As if sensing the change, the little terrier stopped just down the tent alley and sat facing Jimmy Sureshot. The stuffed bunny dangled from its lateral thorax from the tight jaws. The stitched smile and button eyes seemed impervious to the abuse that was thrust upon it.
The terrier wagged its tail, sat erect and stared back at Sureshot waiting patiently for the game to continue.
"Got you now," Jimmy eased back the lever sliding a round into the chamber. "Just hold still, you little rat," he whispered.
His dirt-stained finger curled around the trigger slowly adding pressure.
The terrier stared back and cocked his head to the side. His tail wagged faster. The tiny dog loved playing games. The stuffed bunny's ear tips folded onto the wet grass.
"You're done," Sureshot squeezed the trigger sending the bullet spiraling down the barrel and to the far left and above the little terrier.
The bullet knocked the black hat off a black-coated, dirty blond haired man supporting another that had just stepped into the alley.
Before the hat finished lifting from Larabee's head, he pivoted, dropped to one knee, drew his revolver in single fluid motion and aimed back.
JD collapsed to the ground next to the terrier.
JD's eyes locked on the dog, but more importantly what it held.
"The bunny. He has the bunny," Dunne whispered. "Oh thank goodness. Good dog," JD mumbled.
The terrier simply raised one lip, not relinquishing his grip on the toy bunny.
Sureshot swore and dove between tents.
TBC