Missing in Action

The first light of the coming day began to appear on the horizon as Wick stared out his estate window. It was an intense all-nighter for the workaholic, but possibility of losing his favorite people far outweighed the costs of doing business on no sleep. As he finished one mug, the cat turned around to take stock of his new guests. Mitzi was bandaging the girls from light cuts and bruises they had received. Zib had gone out back to check on his band. The boys had yet to make an appearance.

The sudden glint of headlights brought Wick's attention out front once more. Down below a lone, unfamiliar car rolled up. Wick started to sweat nervously. Had they been followed? Did the Marigold's know about his connection to the speakeasy? Two figures got out of the parked car and ran to the front door. The distinct orange and grey colors gave him sweet relief. Rocky and Calvin had found their way out!

"Miss M, two of the boys just rolled up!"

Riley leapt up excitedly. "Ethan's back!"

Before Wick could warn her, she was already flying down the stairs. As the girl came to the bottom of the grand staircase, she saw Rocky and Freckle opening the front door. They too had some cuts and bruises, and both were covered in dirt. The smell of smoke emitted off their clothes too. Riley didn't care though; she immediately ran into Rocky's arms.

"Rocky! You're okay!"

"Thanks to Freckle and your brother."

After a moment she realized that there was only two here. "So where's Ethan?"

Neither cousin knew how to respond, but their silence said plenty.

Mitzi and Wick came down to the first level. Rocky stood up straight and attempted to explain, but instead he was wrapped in a hug from Mitzi, who pulled Freckle in as well. "My boys, you're okay! Thank you Rocky, I never thought I'd see such bravery from you. And for you, Freckle, you will always have my thanks. You didn't have to come rescue us, but you did."

Rocky could hardly contain his pride. If it were under different circumstances, he'd be over the moon with joy. Yet Ethan was still in trouble. Freckle cleared his throat but was noticeably more confident in his voice. "Ethan is who you must thank. But…"

"He's not here?" Mitzi asked.

"No. He went after Moreau. Told us both to leave."

Killing the Past

The blood trail became worryingly thin as I continued. Out of ammunition, all I had left to use was my wits and my bayonet. With any luck, that would be enough. Moreau had tried using one of the vehicles but couldn't get it started. His trail continued from there up into the woods. I know I had hit him well, but the old bastard was tougher than he looked. Soon, it became apparent that he was still mobile, even if he was going to bleed out eventually. Something in the back of my mind told me to let it go, I had done enough. But I just couldn't leave it to chance. If somehow Moreau survived, lord knows what he'd try to do once he recovered!

Moving through the undergrowth, I gained elevation. Now his blood trail was a few drops here and there. He had largely stopped the bleeding, probably by stuffing the wound with whatever he had on him. Now at the top of the quarry, I looked back down at the mess we had left down there. Even at a distance I could see bodies. A dozen agents lay dead down there. Probably more. My head hurt from all the focus and effort it required for me to keep from losing it completely. I had kept my cool in the heat of the moment, just as I was trained to, but my mind had been in a complete panic. Not only had I been fighting for my life, but I was also fighting for those I loved. The thought of someone harming my sister scared me especially, because then I truly would have failed like the times before.

A shot rang out and I fell behind a boulder, a searing pain in my side. Poking my head out to look, a second shot sent chunks of rock peppering my face. It was Moreau, it had to be! A wheezing laugh echoed through the trees followed by a fit of coughing. "I must say, Ethan, you've got me pretty good! But I could tell by the way you moved behind that rock; I must have hit you as well. So tell me boy, how bad is it?"

"I'll live! But that's more than can be said of you!"

"Bold talk, Ethan. Let's see you prove it!"

After a moment, I worked out a strategy. We must have been close enough for him to hear, so I racked the empty bolt loudly. The next step would be the hardest. I was going to need the help of those boys and men I once fought beside. Sneaking from out behind the rock, I made a run for my next spot of cover. Moreau saw me instantly and broke cover himself, lining up for a clear shot. Anticipating the trigger pull, I switched directions just as the bullet came screaming at me. A clean miss, but God did it hurt to move like that! Ducking behind a stump, I now knew where he was. I then heard brush rustling above me. The sound began to fade. He was leading me further up the slope. Mustering some more strength, I continued after him. My wound was still bleeding, but now the adrenaline was kicking in. One last push to deliver the final blow!

Moreau climbed his way up the hill, finally coming to a clearing at the top. He could see Saint Louis in the distance, lights shimmering brightly, though the sun was about to bring forth a new day. Moreau checked his pistol. Three shots left. Three shots to save his skin. He wondered what was taking Ethan so long as he was sure the boy would follow his trail. The handkerchief was keeping him alive, for now, but if he didn't find a way out soon it was going to be over for him. Rustling leaves to his flank alerted him to his enemy's presence. Taking careful aim, he shot one round into the bushes which was quickly answered with a cry of pain.

I almost got the drop of Moreau when I tripped over a log, landing headfirst into one of the bushes. Getting up, I tried to move out of the way when a shot rang out, sending a 38-caliber bullet through my calf. I tumbled down and struggled to get up, but quickly found cover once again.

"Might as well get it over with, Ethan. We both know you're out of ammunition, otherwise you would have shot me by now!" Moreau yelled in my direction. He had figured out my bluff.

"You're a dead man, Moreau. I'll kill you with my bare hands if I must!" I began to move silently in the direction I came from.

"Ha, such ferocity! You know, your uncle, rest his soul, was similar. Drago and I thought long and hard about how to get rid of him."

He was going to try and get in my head; I could feel it. But I needed Moreau to keep talking. Letting the woods diffuse my voice, I played his mind game. "So you two decided to blow up the union hall and take all those people with it? How can you possible justify that!"

"We didn't justify anything, son. We were hired to do a job and we did it. You want someone to blame for all that destruction, look no further than the fat cats who own Anaconda Copper. Even so, your uncle was too smart for his own good. We tried a half-dozen different ways to infiltrate the union, but he caught on every time. Eliminating him was perhaps our greatest success! Yet letting you live was my greatest failure. If I knew how much of a pain you'd be—"

"You'd kill a fourteen-year-old boy who was scared to death! I know you, Moreau. I know you better than you think. In the years since I followed your trail. Birmingham, Matewan, Broken Hill, you two were there for them all!" I was getting close, but the sun threatened to reveal my position.

"So this is about revenge. Over a decade later and here you are, within reach of your goal. Yet you hide in the shadows, like a coward. Come on then, come out and fight me like a man!"

The sun finally cleared the horizon. Within mere moments, the hilltop was aglow in the morning light. A figure on a boulder caught Moreau's eye. But the sun blinded him. I stood there, bayonet in hand, my shadow reaching for my enemy. He fired two shots, yet they missed the mark as he couldn't get a bead on me. "That's where you're wrong, Moreau! I'm not here for revenge. I'm building a new life in St. Louis, and you will always be a threat so long as you breathe!"

I leapt off the rock and charged at Moreau, who stumbled back. With a panicked look in his eyes, I lunged forward. Yet even as I came crashing down on Moreau, the old man had one trick up his sleeve. He managed to deflect my thrust, cutting his hands in the process. Yet he forced me to overcommit and soon I found myself on my back, looking up at the golden sky. The wind was knocked out of me, the pain from my previous injuries finally burning through the last of my adrenaline. I lay there at the mercy of a cat who had none.

Moreau laughed before coughing violently, blood coming out of his mouth. "I really thought that was it, but even at your best you are still no match, "ghost" or otherwise." Moreau pulled a knife from his vest and held it high with the intent to bury it deep in my heart. I reached behind me, and just felt the handle of the bayonet. It was now or never! Everything I had experienced came to me at once. The mines, the war, the riots, my dead family… but new experiences came to me as well. Coasting into St. Louis with Riley cuddled up beside me. Roaming the streets for a job and finding it at the Little Daisy. All the people I knew now. I even recalled poor Viktor taking his last breaths in my arms. That was going to be me if I didn't think fast!

With one last burst of energy, I reached with all my strength, just getting a grip on the bayonet as Moreau's knife came flying down. I tried to get out of the way, but the blade pierced my shoulder. At the same time, I brought my bayonet to bear, and sixteen inches of American steel found its mark. Moreau and I looked at each other, each satisfied. And while I was bleeding, Moreau was bleeding more. After a second, blood began to come out from his mouth. I rolled him off me, pulling my bayonet out in the process. Crimson red blood from deep within his guts came spilling out. I had let the bayonet find its way behind the rib cage and it pierced his lungs. As I sat up, I pulled the knife from my shoulder, throwing it next to the dying cat. The last light left his eyes as the first light of day met our faces. Limping to the rock, I retrieved the rifle. I tried to use it as a makeshift crutch, but walking was difficult. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, I could feel the full extent of my injuries. Though nothing was immediately lethal, I was bleeding and had no way of stopping it. I sat down on a large rock and stared out at the city. It was done, and at the very least the others were safe.

The Panama Limited

On a northbound express, Dom sipped from his coffee while reading the morning newspaper. As far as he was aware, everything had been successful. The trees and farms blew past the window of his cabin. It would take most of the day, but he'd be in Chicago to deliver the news. It wasn't easy playing both sides of prohibition, but no one would argue with the profits. A bribe here, a bonus there. Drago could clean up the vermin for the feds while looking the other way when bigger business came into town. Yet St. Louis was different. The Outfit needed Lackadaisy gone so that Marigold could run the ground operations. Eliminating the remains of that empire was especially important.

Looking up from his paper, Drago had a feeling which didn't sit right. What if Moreau had failed? Nah, that wasn't possible. Back to reading, he heard the cabin door open and close, his guest sat down in the opposing chair across from the table from him. On a daytrip like this, it was common to have to share a day cabin with another man of higher standing. He had met many businessmen and clients in this manner. Looking up, Drago was about to extend a warm greeting when the piercing green eyes of Mordecai met his steel blue. Fear churned his stomach as Mordecai merely looked at him. Drago reached for his gun, but before he could use it, Mordecai had grabbed a pressure point in his arm and wrestled the piece away. Now with a 1911 staring him down, Drago could do nothing but sit back as Mordecai stood up, slowly and deliberately.

"You should be dead by now!" Drago reasoned.

"Unfortunately for you, I'm still alive." Mordecai said as he leaned forward. "Now, you're going to tell me all you know about the murder of Atlas May."

Drago gulped as Mordecai's shadow loomed over him. Mordecai grabbed the Texan by the collar. "And killing Viktor will cost you dearly."

Salvation

Rocky and Freckle combed through the quarry site, and for the first time they saw the full extent of the previous night's activities. At least a dozen Marigolds had been pruned, most of whom died at the hands of their sharpshooter. Brass casings littered the ground, including a trail of nearly twenty Springfield cases. "Where do you think he went from here?" Freckle asked.

Rocky looked around, trying to find any sign. It was then he saw the blood trail on the ground. It was dry but still quite visible. "Ah, that was the one Ethan was following! Come on cousin, let's go find our wayward veteran!" They both climbed up past the quarry, getting lost in the thick undergrowth at least twice. Yet the trail continued up the hill. Finally coming to a clearing, what they saw was as tragic as it was incredible. Moreau, the detective who had caused them so much pain, lay in a pool of his own blood. A few feet away was Ethan, barely hanging on.

"There he is! We need to move fast, take his left arm, Freckle, I'll take his right."

My eyes slowly opened, staring up at the ceiling. I groaned while trying to move but was quickly restrained by a familiar-looking doctor. He was finishing the stitches in my shoulder. "I must say, young man, you can sure take a beating. But the strange fellow with the head wound said the others looked a lot worse."

I answered weakly, mouth dry from exhaustion. "Yeah, I lost count."

"Well, I don't know where you learned to fight like that but consider yourself lucky. Two more inches and that would hit your aorta."

Looking over at the entrance to the room, Mitzi filled the door frame, the afternoon sun lighting her up like an angel. She only smiled as young Riley came into view as well. Her eyes lit up as she met mine and, in an instant, she was in bed with me, head nuzzled under mine. "You're awake!" She said.

"Yeah, I am. Oh God, I'm so glad you're safe! I don't know what I'd do without you, Riley."

"And I don't know what we would do without you, Ethan." Mitzi replied, sitting down on the bed. She turned to the doctor. "Now, about the payment—"

"No need, Miss May. It seems the master of the house was more than willing to pay for any services required for your associate here. Now then, he should heal fine, but make sure he takes this twice a day. Don't over-do it because the stuff is addictive. But in a couple weeks he'll be good as new."

"Thank you, Doctor Quakenbush. I'll have to thank Wick too."

As the doctor took his leave, Mitzi sighed and leaned back against the headboard. "You gave us all quite the scare, Ethan. We didn't know if you would make it."

"I've survived worse odds." But my tears said otherwise. Mitzi took notice and wiped them from my face with a handkerchief. "No one doubts your bravery, Ethan, but few get that lucky. Now rest, dear. I need to figure out how to keep Marigold off our trail. They'll be looking for us. Zib and the band took enough of a risk retrieving Viktor from the speakeasy."

"How did Ivy take the news?"

"Not well, I'm afraid. But Freckle was there for her."

"We need to contact his family; it was his last wish."

"I have the phone number stashed away back in the apartment. I don't dare go downstairs though; I don't think I could bear it to see the speakeasy in the state it must be in."

I grabbed Mitzi's hand and held it. "All things come to pass, Miss M. But you've still got a crew. We just must stick together, remember?"

"Yes, dear. I'll never take any of you for granted."

"Thank you. Now then, I need to have a much-needed conversation with Isabella. It's long past time I come clean about all my activities."

"Are you sure that's the right thing to do?" Riley asked. "You told me not to talk about your job."

"If she truly loves us, Riley, then she'll accept it. There was a moment up on that hill where I thought about the direction our lives are going. If we're going to make it in St. Louis, then I don't want to keep secrets."

"I wish Atlas hadn't kept so much from me, so I agree completely dear. Not that it helps our present situation."

"And that leads to the second thing I need to do. Could you help me up, ladies? I need to take a drive."

What Comes Next?

Freckle dried himself off after taking a much-needed shower. There was a lot on his mind, most importantly was his mother. Was that really the end? Was he thrown out, just as Rocky was before? Could he fix what was broken? The guilt seeped into his mind more and more as he continued to think about the consequences of that decision. Was it the right thing to do?

"Yes" was what his conscious confirmed. His friends needed help, and criminals or not they didn't deserve death. Though the future for him was uncertain, the call of a greater life captured his heart and soul. He could finally live on his own terms as a free cat, not as some golden child of God. Finally dry and with some clothes on, Freckle dared to open the door and walk out into the common areas. While walking toward the kitchen, he heard a sniffle coming from the room next to his. Peeking his head in, Calvin saw Ivy sitting there, back to the door, looking outside. She had her knees tucked up against her chest, head down, sobbing softly.

Freckle approached cautiously. "Um, Ivy? Are you okay?"

Ivy wiped her eyes. "Miss M just told me about Viktor. I didn't want to believe it, but then I saw him covered with a white sheet being unloaded out back. He's really… gone…" She then continued to cry. While Freckle was far from comfortable with the situation, something told him to stay. Pulling up another chair, he sat down next to her. Still unsure of how to help, or what to say, he did nothing at first. But after a minute he couldn't stand it any longer. Reaching out a hand, he paused for a moment before finally placing his hand on Ivy's back. He started to rub in large circles before continuing even further. Placing his other hand on his cheek, he caressed Ivy as she picked her head up and looked at him. She held her hand over his, leaning into Freckle's attempt to soothe her. Then at once she buried her head into his chest and heaved slowly, continuing to cry. Freckle, overwhelmed with pity, pulled her in close and held Ivy there for the longest time, the sun lighting up the room.

On the porch down below, Rocky witnessed the whole scene. "Good job, Freckle. That's my boy." He said to himself as he sat laid back on the steps. Rocky ran his fingers through his hair, feeling the wound as it healed on his scalp. The stitches could come off soon, though there would always be a scar there. His mind turned to the future. What now? There was no more Lackadaisy, and therefore Mitzi had no more need of him. Sure, he had helped to rescue everyone, but somehow this was his fault. Or at least it felt that way. Yet Mitzi seemed to know what Rocky was thinking because she sat down on the porch and put her hand on his knee. "You're beating yourself up again, aren't you hon?"

"It's that obvious?"

"A lot of things clicked together in my head when we were captive in the quarry. I'm sorry I hadn't seen it before."

"Miss M, you have nothing to be sorry for! I—"

"No, Rocky, I have much to be sorry for. But I want you to promise me something…"

Rocky sat up quickly and gave Mitzi his undivided attention. "Anything, Miss M! Just name it!"

"Good. Honey, I want you to stop blaming yourself for all the troubles of the world."

Rocky looked down in shame. "I-I just wish I wasn't so broken."

"But that's just it, Rocky. You might be broken, but no more so than anyone else. Don't carry everyone's burden on your shoulders, dear."

"What if I'm rejected again? I can't be myself, not completely! So many times…"

"All those people you worked for were fools, as was I until today. But that was never your fault, Rocky. I would never kick you to the curb, you are invaluable."

"You mean that?"

"Cross my heart, dear. Now, do you promise?"

"For you, Miss M, I'd cross oceans. Yes, I promise."

"Very good. You know, no one can make me laugh the way you do. If nothing else, I'll always love you for that."

The two sat in silence for the longest time, but the question ate at Rocky. "Miss M?"

"Yes, hon?"

"What do we do now?"

"I—don't know. But I think Ethan is right. If we stick together, we'll be alright."

The Lion's Den

Asa was behind his desk, anxiously waiting for an update. Yet hours passed and none came. It had now been a full twelve hours since had relayed the last message to Moreau. Lieutenant had called in saying that the others hadn't joined them either. It pained him to approve of Mordecai's execution, but the evidence was all there. Even so, no one had returned. Not the Savoys, not Moreau, not even Mordecai. Something was very wrong; he could feel it.

I walked into the lobby and kindly asked the receptionist for directions to Mr. Sweet's office. Two large cats came up to me, their marigold flowers sparkling in the afternoon light. "Who are you and what's your business with Mr. Sweet?" One asked me in a gruff voice.

"My name is Ethan Kelly, and my business is with Mr. Sweet alone."

Their faces grew pale as they realized who I was. I smiled smugly at them. "Better take a load off fellas, you two look like you've just seen a ghost."

Soon I was standing in the Marigold room itself. All eyes were on me, yet none dared to make a move. It was if the Devil himself walked into church. I limped through the club to the office doors and entered the lions' den. Inside, Asa was reading the paper while smoking a cigar. "You'll need to make an appoint—" His eyes grew wide as he realized who I was. "You…" Is all he could get out before I pulled the bayonet from my coat. Everyone else in the room flinched, but all I did was close the door and blocked the door with my blade. Turning around, I walked confidently toward Mr. Sweet.

"Moreau—"

"Dead."

"My men—"

"None of them lived to see dawn." I said coldly. "They called down the thunder and the Ghost of Charlevaux answered. But now, Mr. Sweet, you are not facing the Ghost, you are facing Ethan Kelly."

"If you think that killing me is going to solve your problems, Mr. Kelly, then you are gravely mistaken. My men will make sure you don't walk out of here alive."

"We miners have a saying, Mr. Sweet. Whether it be a cave-in, a fire, or all manner of catastrophes. Tell God and the Devil that they may try, but today won't be the day I die. Luckily for you, Asa, you're more useful alive. So I'm not here to kill you."

"So what do you want, then?"

"Ever since I was a boy, I've been fighting for a better life. Whether its been in the bottom of a mine or on the battlefields of France, I've been made to fight for others. I thought when I came to this town that I could finally put that behind me, but now I see that I'll have to keep fighting. You can throw all sorts of problems my way, Mr. Sweet, but I will challenge fate if it means a better life for those I care about."

Asa raised an eyebrow as I sat down. "In short, Mr. Sweet, I'd like to make a deal."