Chapter 10

"What exactly are you saying?"

Beka glared at the banker, barely containing her rage. She'd never liked the weasely little man. He had an arrogant way about him that she detested. He'd always made it perfectly clear he was stooping to do business with a woman, and he dangled her father's debts over her head with calculated glee. She did business with him because she had no choice, but she refused to respect him.

"I'm saying, my dear Miss Valentine, that you are running out of time," Gerentex smiled like a predator. "The discovery of this outstanding mortgage in your records changes everything. The debts must be paid in full by the end of October or the ranch reverts to bank property in payment."

"By the end of October? But that's barely two months away! You know it'll take a miracle to get that kind of money off the cattle this year, even with a good harvest thrown in!"

"I'm terribly sorry, but there's nothing I can do."

"No, you're not sorry at all," Beka spat, rising angrily to her feet. "Well alright, you'll get your blasted money, every last penny of it! And then you can forever keep your grimy, money-grubbing paws off my land!"

The books in the shelves rattled when the door slammed. Gerentex simply smiled. This was working out exactly according to plans, at least his plan. Bobby had mortgaged the Maru to pay off his gambling debt to the bank, and he was running guns and goods for Sam Profit to pay off said mortgage. Once his usefulness was over, however, Sam was setting Bobby up to fall hard, and in return Gerentex was going to make sure Sam Profit fell with him, leaving everything to him. But Beka didn't know any of that and there was no reason why he shouldn't squeeze as much money from her in the meantime as he could.

It was a win-win situation. At least for him.

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"I'm Trance Gemini and I'm very pleased to meet you."

"Well, actually, it's Transcendence Harmony Gemini, but that's such a mouthful I just let everyone call me Trance."

"Um, okay," Harper replied, not exactly sure how to do this friend thing, especially with such an odd girl. "What are you doing here?" he asked since she had asked him first.

"Oh, I live here. Upstairs. See my Uncle Gerentex… Well, he's not really my uncle. He's actually just my legal guardian but it's much easier to just call him uncle. Anyway, he owns the bank."

"Where's your family?" He didn't know why he asked it, he hated talking about his own past, but it just kinda slipped out.

Her pretty face darkened and her smile faltered. "I wonder how long your boss will be?" she avoided his question and Harper let it drop.

From the back of the room, Beka watched the two young people for quite awhile with a heavy heart. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but she was happy to see someone accepting her young helper. She was glad he was making friends, but she was also very worried. Over the last week, despite all her best efforts to remain hard-hearted and aloof, she'd come to care deeply for the wounded boy. It was almost like having a little brother around, and it felt right somehow. She'd offered him a home and a refuge from the world that had been so cruel to him. How could she tell him that in two months it might all be yanked away again? That just as he was starting to fit in and feel safe, it might all disappear? It made her sick inside. She wanted to smash something, preferably Gerentex's face, to think that now she couldn't even afford the new shirt and shoes she wanted to buy him and he so desperately needed.

At that moment, Harper looked up and noticed her standing there. He smiled brightly and she made up her mind not to tell him about her financial troubles, not yet at least. He had enough problems of his own; he didn't need to carry hers as well. She pasted on a smile she hoped looked real and walked over.

"Hiya, Boss," he said happily, and a little guiltily, as he stood up to greet her. "This is my new friend Trance."

He said friend like he couldn't quite believe it, and Beka studied the girl for any hidden cruelty. She couldn't find anything but kindness reflected in her brown eyes, however, so she relaxed.

"Nice to meet you, Trance. I'm Beka Valentine, but you can call me Beka. Have you been in Andromeda long? I've never seen you before?" And in a purple dress like that I would have remembered, Beka thought.

"Nice to meet you too, Beka," Trance said, her voice almost bubbly. "And I've been here about a month, but I haven't really met many people yet."

"I…uh…" Harper stammered for a moment, then worked up his courage and spit it out. "I invited her to come out to the ranch and visit sometime. Is that okay with you, Boss?"

Beka laughed. The way he said it, it sounded more like "Boss, it just kinda followed me home, and I've already touched it so the mother won't take it back…"

"Sure, Shorty," she answered, glad the boy could make her laugh even in the midst of her crisis. "Your new friend can come out and visit sometime, just as long as you don't leave me to muck out all the stalls. But right now you gotta come help me with the torture that is shopping."

"Oh, that's alright. I need to go down to Miss Molly's Millinery anyway. She's helping me with the fitting on my new dress." Trance smiled at both of them then turned to Harper. "Thanks for talking with me. It was fun! See you around!"

She bounced off and disappeared up the stairs at the back of the bank.

Harper looked a little dazed. "Wow…" he shook his head.

"Interesting friend you made there, Kiddo," Beka said.

"Tell me about it. Now can we get out of here? The guy over there behind the desk that's taking all the money looks like he wants to arrest me for just being here." Harper sounded genuinely worried and Beka noticed he kept his left hand tight in a fist, hiding the incriminating tattoo.

"Yeah, come on," she nodded, ushering him out the door. Neither of them noticed the two young men who had been watching Harper and Trance converse from the corner, angry, jealous expressions on their faces.

They made their way back to the wagon and gathered up the baskets from the back. Between the two of them, they managed to carry them over to a newer building with large windows. A sign hung above the doorway proclaiming it the General Mercantile. They brought the baskets inside and set them in front of the counter.

The shopkeeper, Mr. Pish, was busy with a line of several customers so Beka told Harper he could look around as long as he was careful.

Harper moved slowly around the store, his eyes wide with fascination. The store was not that big, just a typical frontier shop with the necessities of life and a few luxuries for those who could afford them, but to Harper it was quite amazing. He had never seen so much food in his life. And there were trinkets, and lovely bolts of soft fabric, and books, and beautiful things he didn't even know what they were.

Forgetting Beka was even there, he stopped in front of shelf of men's and boy's shirts, his fingers tracing the clean, crisp fabric lightly. He had often wondered what it would be like to have something new, something that was just for him and just his size, instead of barely held together hand-me-downs that drowned him. After a moment, however, he shook his head to clear it and moved on. He'd learned a long time ago not to have dreams; they never came true anyway.

Waiting next to her baskets of produce, Beka watched Harper as he roamed. She smiled at the look of childish awe on his face. He might be seventeen years-old, nearly an adult, but sometimes his tiny frame and lack of experience in the world just made him seem so young. Until you looked in his eyes, that is. His eyes were ages old.

She watched him softly touch the clothes and her smiled faltered. She didn't miss the look of longing on his face, no matter how quickly it was gone, and she once again cursed Gerentex darkly. Mentally, she did some quick calculations, wondering what on her list they could afford to do without. She decided right then and there, if there was any possible way to pull it off, she was a least going to buy that boy a decent shirt to wear.

"Ah, good day, Miss Valentine." Mr. Pish's words drew Beka's attention toward the counter and she realized the line of people was gone. "What can I do for you?"

Beka motioned for Harper to come up and help her and she started putting her baskets up on the counter.

"I was hoping to do a little business with you," she smiled in a friendly way. She had never had any problems with the shopkeeper, but he sometimes struck her as not a very nice person.

"Certainly. I'm always happy to do business with an upstanding citizen like yourself, and you do grow some of the best produce in the territory." He glanced behind her and noticed Harper for the first time. His eyes narrowed slightly at the sight of the ragged boy, and his gaze filled with distrust. "And who's this?" he asked, his voice suddenly colder.

"This is Harper, my new hired-hand."

The shopkeeper looked him up and down once more. "Where'd you find him, on the slave-block?" he whispered to Beka with a conspiratorial grin, making sure his voice was loud enough for Harper to hear. It was amazing how quickly her attitudes had changed. A week ago, she might have laughed with him, but a week ago she didn't know Harper, know the person the clothes and scars hid. Now she didn't find it funny in the least, but for the sake of getting on with business, chose to ignore it.

"Are you interested in the produce or not?" she asked pointedly.

"Yes, sorry. Let's see what we have. Well, I'll give you the usual for the eggs…"

Harper stayed behind Beka while the two adults bartered, rage smoldering in him from the shopkeeper's comment that he'd heard all too well. He knew he looked like a beggar, but that didn't mean he liked always being insulted for it.

"Harper, can you bring me that basket of corn?" Beka called. He nodded sullenly and stepped over to the basket, picking it up. It was heavy, but he was used to that. He would have been fine if one of the handles hadn't chosen that moment to come loose. The basket slipped sideways and corn tumbled everywhere, tripping him.

Harper was already upset from the stupid shopkeeper's comments; this was just too much. His temper flared and he kicked angrily at some of the rolling ears of corn. Long buried instincts spilled out, like they usually did when he was mad or upset, and he cursed without thinking. "Imigh sa diabhal!(1) Dumb, stupid corn!" His slight accent had thickened considerably and he continued to curse under his breath.

Beka fought the instinct to laugh. There was no harm done and it really was quite comical, but she knew Harper wouldn't appreciate her laughing at his plight. She was also amazed, realizing there must be a smattering of his native language still buried deep in the recesses of his mind. She was just about to tell Harper to quit beating on her vegetables and gather them back up when she noticed Mr. Pish advancing on him.

"How dare you come in here!" he bellowed, startling the boy who hadn't seen him coming.

"What?" Harper asked, his accent still thick in his confusion.

"Your kind is not welcome in my store! Now get out!" he pointed harshly at the door and Harper cringed, thinking he was going to strike him.

"What is the problem?" Beka growled, stepping purposefully between them.

Mr. Pish gestured pointedly to a sign she hadn't noticed in the store window. It stated cruelly: No Indians or Irish allowed.

"I want that dirty, Irish scum out of my store! He may be your hired-hand, Miss Valentine, but I won't have him sullying my reputable business with his filth."

Beka was shocked. She knew many people in America looked down on the Irish, but she had never encountered such open prejudice in Andromeda. She wanted to tell him exactly where he could take his stupid ideas and shove them but there was a small problem. This was the only store in town. If she didn't do business here they wouldn't get the supplies they needed and then they wouldn't eat.

"Mr. Pish! This boy is my worker. He's here to help me, and he has every bit as much – "

"Boss," Harper interrupted, his face sad and resigned all at once. "It's okay. You finish shopping. I'll just go outside and look around." He also knew this was the only store in town and that Beka needed to get those supplies. Besides, he was used to being told to stay out. In his life, the list of places he was not allowed to go had been immeasurably long.

He slipped out of the door before Beka could say anything, the little bell dinging softly in his wake. She turned back to glare at Mr. Pish and leaned down to gather up the corn, barely controlled rage on her face.

"Here, let me help you with that, Miss Valentine," the bigot said with a smile, as if nothing had even happened. Beka ground her teeth, dreading the next hour or so of shopping. She just hoped Harper managed to stay out of trouble.

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Harper wandered the dusty streets of the town without purpose, trying to push the man's ugly words from his brain. He might have been verbally abused most of his life, but that didn't mean it hurt any less when it happened again. Still, at least this time someone had tried to stand up for him. Thinking of Beka made him brighten slightly and he wondered if she would make those yummy biscuits for dinner again. Those had been his favorites so far.

Absentmindedly, he kicked as a few pebbles with his toes and turned a corner onto the main road. The town was so small there really wasn't far for him to go – just one main street and two smaller side streets. He passed the Marshal's office, the hotel, the livery stable and was coming up on the lumber yard when his instincts told him he wasn't alone.

He stopped abruptly and turned around. Five boys were following him about ten paces behind, smiling maliciously. They were probably around his own age, but they were all significantly bigger than him, and much better dressed. He knew he was in trouble.

"What do you want?" he asked as they circled him, slipping on his calloused tough-guy act to hide his fear.

"You're new around here, ain't ya?" one of them asked slyly.

"What's it to ya?"

"Well, it's obvious you don't know how things work here yet," another said as they closed in. Harper looked around to see if there was anyone who would come to his aid, but this part of town was fairly deserted right now and no one really cared what happened to one ragged, street kid anyway.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, his temper rising as he balled his fists. He knew he wasn't getting out of this without a fight.

"Miss Gemini," the first spoke again. "We saw you talking to her today. You apparently don't know she's way too good for the likes of you. We just thought we'd let you know you'd better stay away from her."

"I don't have to stay away from no one!" Harper spat angrily. Trance was weird, but she was the first friend he'd ever had and he wasn't going to lose that. "She's my friend and I can talk to her if I want, or anyone else for that matter!"

"We disagree," the boy said. He signaled his friends and suddenly Harper was surrounded by pummeling fists and jabbing boots. On top of everything else, it was just too much. Something inside him snapped and he snarled, leaping at the nearest boy and sending them both flying into the dirt. Anger and hurt feed the flames of his rage and he fought like a wildcat, dust and fists flying and his yells mixing with the shouts of the five other boys.

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Marshal Dylan Hunt strode purposefully down the streets of his town, enjoying the warm day. For once it had been a fairly calm day and he told Rommie he was going to meet Mac in the restaurant for lunch. He'd invited her as well, but she'd shooed him off, claiming that with him gone she could finally take a broom to the place and make it actually fit for humans to be in. It was probably true, but he also thought she just liked the chance to sit in his chair.

"She wouldn't come?"

Dylan jumped and drew his gun as Rhade spoke unexpectedly from beside him. He relaxed when he saw who it was and re-holstered his gun.

"Argh! Don't sneak up on me like that, Mac! I'm liable to shoot you before I know it's you!"

"No, you won't. I've been doing that to you since we were ten; you haven't shot me yet. So, she wouldn't come?"

"No, she said she'd stay and watch the office. Just asked us to bring her something back. Sorry, Mac, I tried. If you want to have lunch with her, you're just gonna have to ask her yourself and leave me out of it."

"Who said I wanted to have lunch with her?" Rhade glared.

Dylan just rolled his eyes. "Come on, I'm hungry," he said, walking toward the restaurant.

The sound of distant shouting stopped them both, however. It was coming from the direction of the lumber yard. The two men looked quickly at each other, then drawing their guns, raced for the commotion.

"Break it up! Break it up!" Dylan shouted wading right into the middle of the fight and firing his pistol into the air. Most of the boys froze and Rhade started pulling them roughly away from the pile. The dust cleared enough to reveal one boy sitting on the chest of another, punching him over and over, his face twisted in rage. Dylan grabbed him by the back of his ragged shirt and dragged him off, leaving the other boy bleeding dazedly in the street, but thankfully alive.

"What is going on here?" Dylan asked firmly.

"Let me go! Get your hands off me!" the boy in his grip squirmed and shouted, trying to twist enough to take a swing at the marshal.

The other youths were much calmer now that they recognized the deputy and the marshal.

"He was messing with Miss Gemini, making her cry," Adam stepped forward to explain, while Dylan struggled to keep a grip on the frantic young man. "I told him to stop and he wouldn't. Then he stole Timmy's money, so we said he had to give it back. He went nuts."

"That's not true!" the boy screamed, twisting and fighting even harder, his eyes wild and blood streaming from his nose and split lip. "He's lying!"

Dylan was torn. On the one hand, this kid said they were lying, but on the other, these five boys were the sons of some of Andromeda's finest citizens. They had never been in trouble with the law, why should they start now? He'd never seen the boy he was holding before in his life, and he was getting more out of control by the minute. If the boy really had been terrorizing a young girl and stealing money, he had no choice but to detain him in the holding cell. Those were serious matters and frontier law made no exception for youth. With a sigh, he made up his mind and nodded at Rhade.

"Alright, we'll handle it. You can go," the deputy told the others. "Make sure and get Timmy checked out by the doc, okay?"

The five boys hid their grins as they walked, or limped, off, for all the world appearing contrite and obedient.

"Calm down! We just need to take you back to the office and ask you a few questions," Dylan told the struggling boy, but it just made him fight even more. With a sigh, he fished in his pocket for his handcuffs. "Fine, we'll do this the hard way."

While Rhade held the boy, Dylan pulled his hands roughly behind his back. He was shocked to see the heavy rings of scars around the small wrists, not sure he liked what they implied. Then his eyes were drawn to the dark tattoo. He recognized it at once and he clicked the handcuffs on the thin wrists purposefully, but not completely without regret. The kid seemed so young to already be a hardened criminal.

By now the boy was approaching hysterical. He was cursing and spitting words in at least two languages at the two men that would make even a sailor blush. When the handcuffs closed on his wrists, he lost it completely. He kicked Rhade hard in the shins and took off running.

Dylan caught him easily. "Whoa there, young man! You're not going anywhere but my nice, comfy cell. I think you need some time to cool off before we try and straighten this out." Together, Rhade and Dylan dragged the still struggling boy back to the Marshal's office, Rommie looking up in surprise as they entered.

Jerking him over to the two cells, Dylan unlocked the first one and pushed the kid inside with his hands still cuffed behind him. Then he slammed the door shut and locked it again. "When you are calmed down and acting like a civilized person we'll talk," he told him.

As soon as the metal bars closed behind him, much of the fight seemed to drain from the kid, and his face turned deathly pale, even if the anger stayed. He sank down the wall to the floor, pulling his knees up awkwardly with his hands stuck behind him. "I didn't do nothing wrong!" he muttered fiercely, glaring at the three people with shiny silver stars pinned to their clothes who stared at him from outside his cell. "It ain't fair! I didn't do nothing wrong!"

"Just take it easy and calm down, kid. I'll be back later and we'll talk," the marshal said firmly, but not without compassion. "Come on Mac, I'm starving now. Let's go get lunch."

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Beka stepped out of the Mercantile with a sigh, her hands and baskets full of purchases. She looked around to see if Harper was waiting to help her load the wagon, but couldn't see him. Maybe he went back to talk to that Trance girl, she thought. After all, it had taken her nearly two hours to complete her shopping; an hour longer than she had planned. He probably got bored with waiting and went exploring.

Or he's hiding, a voice whispered in her head. Not that she'd blame him; not after the horrible way he'd been treated by that nasty old man. It still made her mad to think about it, and the comments hadn't even been directed at her.

She carefully placed one package in the top of her hand-held basket, covering her pistol, and smiled a little. She knew it wouldn't make up for what was said, and they'd have to make due with plain, old molasses in their coffee instead of sugar, but it didn't matter. She couldn't wait to see his face when she gave it to him and he found the new shirt inside. She hurried off down the street, anxious to find her young friend.

Half and hour later, she was getting seriously worried. She'd passed a group of women who grudgingly acknowledged her, Marshal Hunt who had tipped his hat at her as he left the restaurant, and a group of boys lounging in front of the hotel, looking a little worse for the wear, but no Harper. She was beginning to wonder if the boy's raging hormones and curiosity hadn't finally gotten the better of him, and if she needed to go check out Madame Doyle's Emporium. If she found him in there, so help her, she'd…she'd…well, she didn't know what she'd do, but it would be something he'd remember.

"Can I help you, Miss Valentine?"

She glanced down to see one of the young men addressing her. Adam, she finally remembered, the hotel manager's son. She wondered vaguely where he'd gotten his black eye, which in turn made her think of Harper again and the black eye he'd been sporting this morning.

"Yeah, Adam, maybe you can. I'm looking for my new hired-hand. You may have seen him? He's about your age, short, fast talker, too smart for his own good…? He was barefoot, with spiky, blonde hair and blue eyes – well one blue, one rather black right now? You haven't seen him around have you?"

The young man smiled nicely.

"Why yes, ma'am. We saw him about two hours ago. He seemed pretty upset. He took off walking that direction, back toward your ranch I think. At the pace he was going, I suspect he's mostly there by now."

What the…?

Beka shook her head in disbelief. That stubborn little rat! She knew he was upset, but that was no reason to take off on his own back to the ranch! Especially not when he knew she'd be looking for him! And it was a long walk back; who knew what could happen to him on the way, and he had no shoes and nothing to defend himself with.

She turned and rushed back to her wagon, cursing his stubborn Irish head the whole way. Now she not only had to worry about her debt and losing her ranch, she had to baby-sit a headstrong kid who had wormed his way into her heart!

Torn between worry and anger, she snapped the horses into a trot and headed for home, rehearsing the speech she would nail him with as soon as she saw him.

Oh life used to be so much simpler!

(1)Imigh sa diabhal! Go to the devil! Or at least that's what the website said. I don't speak Gaelic, so don't yell at me if it's wrong. I tried my best.