Paul's Letter to Rome

by Interfectorem

A man of the New Canaan guard is chosen to witness and facilitate the return of the community's Prodigal Son. In one of the most uncertain and dangerous times of the community's history, Paul and the community wrestle with the question of what being a faithful servant of God looks like as the hostile world around them inches closer and closer for the Burned Legate.

38. If You Won't I'll Find Someone Pt 1

Chapter 38: If You Won't I'll Find Someone Who Will Part 1

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2 days later

Most of my men were sent on that simple escort job for the folks of the scav trade the morning after the Constable had me make the assignment. Because my detachment was so understrength and because the other detachments were better able to man the gates and conduct patrols better, the Constable had me overseeing some of the training of the new guards. This was a job that the LTs had been rotating for the past couple of weeks, but with both me and Doyle being out on the Sevieris expedition, it was time for him and I to pay our dues.

The previous day had me showing the new men around and getting them some experience in the market and refugee village alongside Doyle's training group. However, it was near the end of that first day that I learned that most of the detachment of new men under my command hadn't received nearly any firearms training. Doyle's group was fairly caught up on that, and so he was to continue focusing his training group on the experience with regular duties. Doyle suggested that I take my group over to the little range west of town and I decided to take him up on that.

Although every New Canaanite undergoes some basic training with the community's standard .45 pistol before they take their first mission, some of the new guys were a bit older and hadn't even touched a firearm since, until they were drafted into the guard. So, it was in the last two hours of that first day that I had them go to the short range in the wastes we had west of town to learn how to make use of the .308 rifles they'd been using in their patrols. Overall, the eight new guardsmen assigned to me were pretty comfortable with the functionality of the firearms due to time with them in the barracks before the end-of-day weapons turn-in… But their accuracy and comfortability in firing the weapons was something to be desired at the start. Still, the new men of the guard were in fact men, and it is safe to say that men in general seem to have an adequate understanding, fascination, and natural adaptability when it comes to firearms that I don't feel I need to explain. In the end, it didn't take more than an hour and a half for the men to develop some kind of marksmanship with the rifles, and the rest could be learned or developed over time. Still, there were plenty of different weapons that the guard used for various assignments, so there was still more work for me to do with them, and I thankfully had a great team helping me… A team that could assist while I handle some other matters on duty as well.

It was perhaps around an hour till mid-day when Nathan barked his third "Fire!" order since we began the pistol training. He'd begun an exercise that was to familiarize them with combat situations and muscle memory. So, the line of guns popped off along the line, the two gunshots echoed into the distance, the men replaced their magazines with new ones holding the same number of bullets, the dust settled, and I looked down at my little girl behind her 5.56 bolt-action as she peered down the sights like I taught her.

*BANG*

She hit the target, but from the looks of things, it was just off from the silhouette of the man.

I heard days ago that Nathan was to be sent to scav due to the loss of his hand. At least until he gets the prosthetic from some Vault City traders he mentioned. Transferring a man who spent more than a few years in another trade into another was something that took a few days even in the best of times. It may be worth remembering that such a delay occurred when Granger Till joined my detachment, and that was part of the reason that the training of the new men wasn't already done despite having started weeks ago.

Nathan was definitely eager to partake in the training, and if I recall correctly, when he heard he'd get to help with training, he called it "his dream of passing the torch coming true." It was my squad leader Rhynes who was supervising the training for the most part with the assistance of Carl, Parrish, and Barnett, but Nathan was more than happy to take over as the primary instructor for the pistols. This again wasn't all that surprising, given what he said above and his imminent transfer to a less "illustrious" trade within the walls, and since he had always leaped at the opportunity to help train new men after his first year, Rhynes was happy to let him take the lead. I too was happy to make Nate's "dream come true" and it was because of this that I had the ability to truly focus on something I sought approval for just yesterday after the end of the shift.

"Go ahead sweetie, chamber a new one," I told Hannah after surveying where she hit.

The little girl did so, I suppose as awkwardly as a girl of 13 would, given her experience. There was something different in her face however as she kept her eyes on the target, and I studied this expression on her face as I heard the clacking sound of her working the bolt to chamber a new round. She'd only looked down at the action once during the simple maneuver of the hands, but when she was sure the bolt was locked back in place, she paused, glanced toward me, and then back at the target.

"FIRE!" shouted Nathan without any hint of the joking attitude the man was known for.

Beneath the loud popping of eight men again discharging two rounds from their pistols, then dropping the magazines out of their weapons and replacing them with new ones, I thought of that flame in Hannah's eye that I caught in the brief glance. I wasn't sure if I was proud of my youngest girl's determination or worried by it. When her eyes landed back on the target, ready to fire again, she noticeably steadied her breathing and said, "I'd prefer it if you didn't call me sweetie out here, dad."

I continued to think about this as my mouth said, "Fire." My little girl pulled the trigger on her weapon, the barrel leaped, and once again, she had hit just beside the silhouette of the man.

After the rifle training yesterday, I'd come across the Constable when I went to the barracks before returning home and we got to chatting about this and that. I mostly wanted to see if he heard how the men I sent on that escort job for lumber were getting along, and as expected, they were just fine. Radio check-in was once per day, and as the day shift boys greeted me on their way to turn in weapons and settle in for the night, an idea occurred to me.

Having returned a few days ago, it wasn't very long after the start of my first shift back when I was told almost immediately how Hannah wouldn't stop asking my men to go shooting while I was out in the wastes. Carl and John both were pretty clear about how they did not permit such a thing, but it didn't take more than a few questions for me to hear that one guardsman had taken her shooting "completely by accident" when Carl was left with more duties than he could handle. Essentially admitting that my 13-year-old girl tricked an "innocent bystander" into taking her shooting, they all refused to confess the name of which guardsman had done it. I'll admit that the news was a surprise, but it wasn't something that made me angry. I actually found the story of Carl more humorous than anything.

Still, it got me thinking how badly my little girl has been wanting to do that, and I felt as though I had been too strict about it without adequate reason. In the end, since I had just gotten back from the range with the new men, an idea occurred to me while I was talking to the Constable. I asked the Constable about it, and he agreed to let me take Hannah out to the range with the new men provided it didn't get in the way of the guard's training. Needless to say, Hannah was very happy to hear where I was taking her in the morning, even though she might not have shown it… She never was one for being too vocal about her emotions. I could only assume she got that from me.

I was about to ask Hannah about what she said to me a moment ago when both of our attentions went to Nathan as he called, "Cease fire! Lower your weapons!"

I pushed the safety catch on Hannah's rifle as it sat in the girl's hands, and turned my attention back to Nathan who was walking out to the targets in front of the eight new men. Rhynes and Barnett glanced at Nathan from the table where they stood loading magazines with two rounds each, then got right back to it. The order was acknowledged by Daniel and the four other career missionaries he was leading on the other side of the new guards.

When Nathan was in front of one of the targets in the middle, he studied it for a moment before turning back towards the line of new guards standing 15 yards away and shouting, "Schafer!"

"Yes, sir? I mean, Mr. Porter- er, Nathan?"

Nathan drew a circle with his hand around the target as he shouted back, "Why's your grouping such ass?"

"I'm sorry?" said Schafer as Nathan began to walk towards him. Nathan stood before Schafer the new guardsman after only a couple of seconds and said,

"Sorry about that, might've been the distance, but I asked why your grouping sucks so much?"

Mr. Schafer, still not entirely used to the way Nathan or many of the other guardsmen typically speak or the "vulgarity", said, "I-uh, I think it's the gun, Mr. Nathan. I think the barrel might be warped or something."

Nathan gestured for the handgun as Schafer adjusted his sunglasses and handed over his lowered pistol. Nathan studied the thing, noticing Schafer had not been able to load in a new magazine like the rest of his friends in the new guardsman group had. Nathan shouted, "Parrish! Little help, please and thank you."

Parrish jogged over to the table, grabbed a magazine with two rounds from it, and reloaded Nathan's handgun for him in a flash. Nathan released the slide with his index finger, still not completely used to operating one lefty, and raised it to the target before immediately firing off two rounds.

In spite of the short distance for the handgun targets, two new holes were clearly visible in the upper chest of the silhouette, just below the neck. Nathan grinned, turned back to Schafer, and put the locked-back weapon in Schafer's hand before saying,

"Whoo! Would you look at that! I'm not even a lefty!..." He paused, his face fell back to its seriousness as range master, and he asked the ex-apprentice deacon, "What other excuses you got?"

Nathan was grinning beneath his shades, waiting for a legitimate answer that Mr. Schafer struggled to find. After a moment of silence, Nathan added, "How do you feel about that target?"

"What do you mean?" asked Schafer, the other new guardsmen and even missionaries practicing alongside Daniel all still silent.

"I mean, how do you feel about that target?" said Nate again.

Repeating the question didn't seem to clarify anything as Schafer stammered, "I don't know? I suppose it's alright?-"

"WRONG!..." interrupted Nathan with a shout none of the new men were expecting, Nathan shouted only a few feet from Schafer's face, "YOU HATE THAT TARGET! RIGHT?"

Some of the newer guardsmen chuckled to themselves until they noticed that neither Nate, Rhynes, Barnett, Parrish, me, or even the little girl next to their acting LT were laughing.

Nathan still stared at Schafer, waiting for the new guardsman to agree with him. The young new guardsman only lowered his head, his face evidently becoming somewhat red as he answered, "I can't hate like that. It's just a target. I'm not even supposed to be here. I was supposed to be in the Temple Sect before they conscripted me here."

No more than a second of silence passed before Nate said to the hung head before him, "So you're just holier than me?"

Mr. Schafer looked up with eyes wide even behind his sunglasses, "I never said that!-"

Before Mr. Schafer could say anything else, Nathan ripped the gun out of his hand and tripped the young man with a step forward and shoulder to the chest before asking the young ex-deacon calmly;

"Do you hate Me now?"

With his back in the dirt, Mr. Schafer groaned in pain and looked at me, his eyes pleading, wondering if I allowed this kind of thing in the guard. I did. I knew Nate would not let any guardsman veteran or new get truly hurt if he could help it, and I only watched Nathan lord over the young man. Seeing he was alone in this, Mr. Schafer looked up at the one-handed man towering over him in the dirt. At last, Mr. Schafer said to Nate after another grunt in pain at his hard landing;

"… What? No! I don't-"

Again, before Mr. Schafer could say another word, Nate dropped the handgun to the dirt and backhanded Mr. Schafer across the face. I'll admit it was a little harder than he probably should have, but Mr. Schafer's sunglasses were thrown from his face and his hat turned to a new angle as Nathan barked;

"How about now!? Do you hate me now!?"

Mr. Schafer couldn't even answer before Nathan backhanded him once again across the face, this time sending the hat into the sand;

"-Ow! STOP IT! What the Frick-, Nath-"

Once more, Nathan struck him as he shouted to the ex-deacon's face, "SAY IT!"

Nathan raised his hand for another blow, Mr. Schafer raised an arm to cover his face and shouted back at his overlord, face now red in anger, not embarrassment;

"Fuck you Nathan!"

Some of the new guardsmen gave surprised expressions to one another, and Daniel attempted to gather the attention of the missionaries he was helping to train. Those missionaries leaned closer in towards Daniel, but their eyes never left Nathan or Mr. Schafer.

When the echo of Mr. Schafer's vulgarity had disappeared into the distance, Nathan said, "Good. Now stand up, reload, and fire!..." Nathan stepped off to the side and Mr. Schafer stood to his feet, before reloading the pistol and releasing the slide. Mr. Schafer raised the weapon, his nostrils still flaring, and Nate added, "…Imagine it's my face on the target."

Mr. Schafer hesitated at that, but before even he knew it, he had pulled the trigger, the gun popped, then again, and after a short moment of silence as everyone peered at the target, Mr. Schafer lowered the weapon, and Nathan appeared in front of the ex-deacon. Nathan was smiling wide at the still simmering young ex-Deacon, and Nathan patted him on the shoulder before saying warmly as Mr. Schafer's own father would;

"Good job, but we'll work on it. Great work, Mr. Schafer."

Mr. Schafer's face appeared to grow an ever so faint smirk at the praise, Rhynes and Barnett got back to reloading the magazines on the table, and I glanced back at Hannah whose eyes were still glued on Nathan. Before I could get back to Hannah's marksmanship with the little varmint rifle, Nathan went on for the whole group;

"The Devil, the Evil out there doesn't give two shits how holy you Think you are. You tell me, you Temple Sect types, did Christ in the wilderness Love the devil who kept tempting Him?..."

Nathan paused and looked to all the new men, focusing mostly on Schafer and Mr. Koehler, two men he knew were juniors in the Temple Sect before they were conscripted into the guard to fill gaps. All the men, including the two that Nathan directed the question at were silent. Whether that was intimidation or because of considering theological arguments is anyone's guess. Either way, Nate went on;

"… No! There's no place for love for those who raid and kill out there!-"

At last Mr. Koehler's original silence was explained when the man interjected from the end closest to me and my girl,

"Sorry to interrupt, Nathan, I know what you're trying to say, but even those ones are still people too. I can't sit idly by while you teach false doctrine."

Everyone, including Daniel and his missionary group, remained dead silent. Mr. Koehler's courage to call things like that out was indeed commendable, but I don't think Mr. Koehler understood that Nathan's words were meant to highlight a mindset. Not the mindset of those who kill and steal out there in the wilderness. Nate's words were meant to highlight the mindset of men like Koehler. The kind of mindset that made him call out Nathan's declaration in the first place.

There comes a time when calling someone out has passed and it's time to act.

Nathan took another step till he was in front of Mr. Schafer once again. Upon locking eyes with Mr. Schafer, Nate shouted for the group;

"FIRE!"

Mr. Schafer kept his gun lowered, looking only at Nathan standing between him and the target. The others immediately fired their two shots, dropped the magazines, reloaded new ones, and lowered them. Everyone could clearly see Mr. Koehler fumble with his weapon, not expecting the order to fire whatsoever as he waited for Nate's answer to his question. When Mr. Koehler had discharged his two shots and reloaded his weapon, Nathan stepped over to him. The second Nathan was clear, Mr. Schafer discharged his weapon twice, reloaded, and Nate stopped in front of Mr. Koehler.

Nate glanced back at Mr. Koehler's target before turning back to the other ex-deacon's eyes and saying, "Your grouping is ass, Mr. Koehler…." The ex-deacon clearly wasn't sure where to look before Nathan said lowly, "… Seems you should have been ready to fire instead of thinking about how to counter my theology, right?"

Mr. Koehler stayed quiet when I heard Nathan say directly to the man but loud enough for all the others to hear;

"You tell me what kind of 'person' rapes and kills a woman and her little children, Mr. Koehler? Tell me what kind of 'person' mutilates them all and leaves them in an open ditch for others to find half-rotted?…"

In the silence, the remembrance of who was still prone beside me returned and I said to Nathan, "Let's turn it down a notch, Nathan."

Nathan looked to me, nodded, then looked to Hannah and nodded as well before returning his gaze right back to Mr. Koehler and saying for all;

"Every veteran has seen that kind of thing too many times in the wilderness… If you're with the guard long enough, you'll come to understand that those who do that kind of thing are not 'people' they're Animals…"

Mr. Koehler lowered his head slightly, and I could even see the heads of some of Daniel's career missionaries ever so subtly nodding before Nate continued;

"… You show me one instance in the Gospel where Christ was staring the literal devil in the face and showed him, love, then we can talk…

Daniel and his missionaries took their places on their part of the pistol range and Nate concluded for the new guardsmen;

"… We are not teaching you to be holy. That's what Sunday, Bible studies, and volunteer groups are for. They say that God speaks loudest in our most difficult of times. We're teaching you to be the worst time imaginable to the tiny person buried deep deep deep inside the literal demons out there. We leave God to sort out who survives, who comes to Him, but your job is to make it back home to the people inside those walls, so hate your enemy and AIM BETTER!"

Immediately, Nathan stepped out of the way of Koehler and shouted for the group, "FIRE!"

The guns all pop, quickly followed by the guns of the career missionaries, and Nathan announces a water break around Rhynes' table before I finally turn back to my little girl. I saw the girl still looking towards the table where all the other guardsman were taking their break, her eyes went to me when she saw me looking at her. Immediately, her eyes went back to the sights of the rifle, probably half-expecting me to drop an order to fire on her when she was not ready. After a moment, I saw that determination in her eye once again and it struck me. Still, she waited for the order to fire when I said to her;

"What're you thinking about?"

She must have been waiting so meticulously for me to tell her to fire that she must've heard that in the question I asked and pulled the trigger. The gun popped, and I could see where the new shot had landed. Once again, the shot landed just beside the silhouette. She chambered a new round, and I told her calmly.

"Put it on safe, like I showed you earlier."

I let my girl do it on her own, my eyes alone told her to lay the gun down, and she did, leaving it bolt up before propping herself up slightly. I remained kneeling beside her and silent as I waited for her eyes to meet mine. After a moment, they hesitantly did, and upon seeing the brown in those young and innocent eyes that seemed to want to be something else, I repeated my question;

"What're you thinking about?"

She glanced back at the target before looking back at me, not my eyes, just me in general. After a second, she muttered,

"How much I hate that target."

I glanced back at the target, saying to the soft breeze; "How's that working?"

It was easy to see the frustration on her face even in my peripherals as she adjusted herself on the mat she lay upon. When I turned back to her innocent face, she said in the same frustration she had with those eyes,

"It's not, dad. I don't get it. I'm just doing what Nathan said. So did Dunc-"

The look of terror on her face only made me smirk even more when she realized what she half-admitted to. That made me chuckle out as I looked back at that target;

"So, that's who took you shooting while I was out?"

The girl pleaded softly, "Don't punish him, dad! I tricked him into taking me. Carl didn't do anything wrong either."

I turned my head towards the table, seeing Carl busy showing one of the new guys the slide of a stripped-down pistol. Her words caught up to me, and when she was done, I looked back at her face which stared at me as though I was something I never considered myself to be. I told the gentle face;

"I'm not a monster, Hannah? What's the matter with you?" I found I was chuckling as I said this, and the girl's fear of getting the men who cared for her while I was away in trouble lessened. I watched her settle down a little more and although she was still unable to look me in the eye again, I told her flatly;

"I'm not going to have either of them punished. Carl essentially admitted it himself, but left Mr. Schmitt's name out…" I paused, seeing her still looking down at the mat before asking, "Why are you risking getting my boys in trouble to take you shooting? Tell me what's going on, sweetie."

She glanced up at me as I thought about how she'd asked me to take her so many times in the month or weeks leading up to my most recent departure. I was reminded of the answer she told me only a few minutes ago when she told me right there;

"That's why..."

Momentarily puzzled by her short answer, she clarified when she added, "… I can't help but think you'll keep treating me like your little girl… " she paused, flicked a pebble off the mat, and went on, "… I wanted to go with you, I was really glad when you asked me to come with last night… I just…" she glanced up at me, and I stayed silent. I could tell just by her eyes that what she was admitting was really hard for her;

"… I only got Duncan to take me because I knew he wouldn't talk to me like I was his girl, and you're always gone now…"

That last part really hit me. I didn't have the ability to tell her about what I went through spiritually on my most recent expedition, what I said to the infant David the night I returned, or what I promised God. I could only tell her;

"I'm sorry…" it took a lot for me to not call her "sweetie" after my apology. I only lifted her chin up to meet my eyes as I added, "… look here. I'm not going anywhere for a while. I know I've been out pretty often in the past year… It's just that, what happened to Michelle…"

My words trailed off as she took this in and looked back down at the mat before sniffing as if she was holding back.

"I know. It's been hard for me too."

I sat myself down, still watching her. A tear fell from her eye that she tried to erase by rubbing the wet spot on the mat where it landed. I could again see that it was really hard for her to even bring things like this up at all, and the more I saw her trying to hold it inside, the more I felt terrible about all those times I left for the wastes while Michelle was pregnant and then again after the child was born. I felt my dry throat about to apologize once more and re-iterate my plans to stay home as much as I can in the coming months, but then a new thought struck me and I held her shoulder;

"… What happened to Michelle… Is that why you've been so adamant about shooting?"

I could see her nod slightly. Leaning back, I let her collect herself some more before saying as softly as my voice would allow; "I don't blame you."

The memories of the day Michelle returned home between two NCR rangers after going through what she did flickered in my mind. I could feel the emotion coming to the surface, and just when I started to see that raider kid's face again, I looked to the target again so she couldn't see what was going on inside of me. The battle of thoughts was a constant one. It was the reason I kept leaving my family. It was the reason I'd head out to the dangerous wastes again and again when Michelle, my wife, Joseph, and Hannah needed me.

Looking into each bullet hole on the target, I considered how the idea of something like that happening to Hannah too was too much to bear, but something was off.

I loved Michelle so much for her innocence. I loved Hannah so much for her innocence, and Joseph too. But looking at those marks in the target, I had proof that the mindset that kept guards like Nathan, Me, John, Doyle, Ramos, and so many others was not working for Hannah. I couldn't figure out why as the girl broke the silence;

"I just don't want to be in a situation where I'm helpless in the wasteland. I want to know how to fight and survive on my own if I have to."

I didn't want that either. I was looking at those targets trying to forget the thoughts of what happened with Michelle, forget how scarce I made myself, and study where she had missed.

Being able to shoot is important, but my mind went to the times in previous years that I had taken Michelle shooting, the pride I'd taken in her getting better and better. I thought of how that too didn't save her, and I turned back to my youngest daughter, telling her what the grown woman in her needed to hear;

"Hannah…", she looked up, "What happened to Michelle was not her fault. It's not that she didn't practice enough…"

Her face fell to one of supreme sorrow. Perhaps she knew this deep down, but hearing it from her dad didn't help. What I said, however, was not meant to steer her away from honing her ability to defend herself. I went on;

"… Practice is a good thing, make no mistake, but sometimes those things just happen…" Her face fell to even more sorrow as I looked through her and went on, "… Sometimes you can't stop something like that from happening. But it's not about what happened or stopping it… it's about what we do after…"

She wiped her eyes, I winced at the stinging in my own as she looked up to me with only the slightest flicker of hope in her eyes after the horrible truth I laid on her;

"… look at your sister.. What she did, what she was able to do with the baby is far stronger than anything I could have considered myself or let alone Her capable of…" Looking at the ground, she nodded her head slightly, "… look at yourself, Hannah. You were there for her, for your mom, for your brother, when your own father simply wasn't strong enough… Then you tricked one of my men into doing something I strictly forbid them from doing."

The girl snickered with eyes full of tears. I couldn't help but do so as well before giving my left eye another wipe and saying to her eyes; "You're such a strong girl, Hannah. I'm so proud of you…"

She looked back down, and I believe she muttered the words, "Thanks dad" as she continued to collect herself.

"… I mean it when I say there's nothing wrong with wanting to get better at shooting. A gun can only protect you so much, so I just want you to know that you and your sister are already so strong. And yes stronger than your own dad and some of these men in the guard in more ways than one… especially Carl and Mr. Schmitt."

The girl snickered again, and when her eyes met mine once more, she stared at me like the young woman she really was. I truly loved the wetness of innocence in those eyes, and the determination of a young woman told me she was ready for what was next.

Sitting back up to a crouch, I told her, "Why don't you pick up that rifle again, Ms. Hannah Young."

I could see the smile on her face as she wiped her eyes before putting the butt of that rifle into her shoulder and checking the chamber. Upon closing the chamber back up, and resettling her gaze back down the sights, she said, "Two left in there, dad."

She moved her hand to the switch beside the trigger and I raised my hand when I heard the metallic click. She lay there in place, and I asked her;

"You want to know what makes your dad a good shot out there when it counts?"

She tilted her head upward as if to mentally ask, "What's that?"

Looking out at the target, I said, "I want you to think about something you hate, something wicked… but I also want you to think about something you love as if it's standing right behind you. Imagine you and that rifle are the only things between that something evil, and that something you love… Fire whenever you're ready, Ms. Young."

The girl took a long exhale, and the rustling behind me said the guys around the table were about to take their spots on the firing line again. When the girl's exhale was at last inaudible, the gun leaped with the cracking of the explosion, and her bullet had left a hole in the lower chest of the silhouette.

Her face went to me with the proudest smile beneath those cheeks smeared by dust and dry tears, and I felt my grin widen as I raised my hand for her to high-five. The girl immediately set the gun back on safe, and slapped my hand, about to tell me all about it when I asked her;

"What were you thinking about? What did you hate?"

The girl really truly surprised me when she said completely unlike the 13-year-old girl I thought her to be;

"there were a few things, but I'd like to keep those ones for me, if that's alright, dad…" She saw my eyes grow wide at that, and then added with a smirk and a sense of humor that seemed to prove she was the daughter of a guardsman as well as the innocent girl I'd always seen her as; "… but one of them might have been Joseph's stupid cymbal clapping monkey thing."

I smiled, internally speculating on what else she could have hated to make her shoot so well when I asked; "and what about what you loved?"

I'll admit I blushed when she said, "You, mom… and everyone else."

Part of me asked if "David" was included in the words "everyone else," but the look on my girl's face said she was just like her dad, "she was still working on that too." I decided to let her keep the rest inside when I thought of a face she made earlier and said with a laugh;

"… Carl and Duncan too, right?"

She scrunched her face at the name "Carl" but it immediately turned red at the name of "Duncan."

Her only response to that audibly was a laugh. I started to hear the men around the table talking in a way I can only describe simply as "different" from the casual chatting of their break when I said to my smiling daughter;

"See, isn't shooting with your dad fun? Who needs those novices, right?"

She squinted her eyes, and I was happy to have my happy daughter back when she let out an "-ehhh" noise.

I flicked her on the shoulder, gesturing for her to take the last shot in her rifle as I said, "Let's see if you can hit it twice in a row… What's the big deal about Duncan anyway? Nobody's more fun than your dad. And that's a verifiable fact."

She kept smiling as she re-checked the chamber and switched the rifle off safety. Taking aim again, she said, "He's easy to trick. He also goes off into the wasteland all on his own all the time. He isn't scared of anything…"

Hannah slowed her breathing, and I thought about what she said after the little joke. I hadn't had much time to chat with Duncan since returning from my expedition. Of course, I heard he had only returned from his first mission maybe a day or two before I returned with Doyle. I wanted to tell her what Duncan was truly scared of, but I couldn't figure that out for the life of me… Thinking back to all my interactions with that young man over the past two-plus years, for all I could consider, Hannah was right. Duncan didn't seem to have any fears or anything that me or anyone else in the guard knew about.

Thinking about what Hannah and I had talked about earlier, as well as her seeming infatuation with the youngest man of the guard, my mouth spoke my thoughts for me just before she started pulling the trigger;

"Duncan's a good kid… and although he may not show it. He's certainly troubled. And troubles always stem from fears."

*BANG*

The rifle cracked, the bullet seeming to land just on the border between the black of the silhouette and the white of the target paper.

"Dang it. I would have shot better, but you kept… distracting… me."

I smiled, her frustration at the near miss settling back to calm amusement when she could see me. I heard some footsteps coming towards us from the table, and said, "There's plenty of distractions in the wasteland, Ms. Young. That'll be your next lesson, but for now, just-"

Suddenly my attention was pulled towards the figure that stopped behind me. At the words, "Lt. Young…" I turned around and was, to my surprise, looking at Preston Lockwood of Doyle's detachment as he said, "Got a minute? Doyle needs you. There was an incident with Duncan in the market and you may be needed to speak as a character witness."

I didn't need to answer Lockwood as I stood myself up and gestured to Hannah to pack up the rifle and follow me as I finished what I was saying to her; "- just know that Duncan may not have fear of the world, but there's a trouble inside him that means I, as your father, cannot willingly recommend him as a role model."

Perhaps I shouldn't have leaped to any conclusions, but as Hannah silently packed up the rifle as quick as she could, I began to doubt that mission did much for the spiritually ignorant but necessary young man of the guard.

---

After leaving the new men of my charge under the authority of Rhynes, Lockwood led me towards the gaggle of men huddled around one of the small concrete jail shacks behind the barracks just beside the east wall of the town. I adjusted the grip I had on the hand of Hannah who struggled to keep up with the cased rifle slung over her back. I could feel her struggle and wanting to ask me to help her carry the thing, but she also asked to carry it all the way out to the ranger, suggesting in her innocent way that I treat her like a guardsman instead of a daughter.

Getting closer to the mass surrounding the jail shack marked "6", Lockwood remained silent about what had happened with the young man every guardsman found amusing and my daughter apparently really admired. I thought of what the three of us saw as we passed through the market, what we saw while waiting for the gates to lower. It was so rare to see the Constable as small as he was like that.

The Constable's head was hung low and his fists were white with how clenched they were while a man who looked like Elder Larsdale but wore a long grey coat was shouting at him. It was too hard to hear through all the noise of the crowds, but behind the Elder was a heavy-set man in a dark blue three-piece suit and bowler hat standing there with a smirk and his thumbs in his belt loops. I'd seen that man in the past few days, only knowing he was a trader, a very wealthy trader if the mob of guards behind him wearing polished metal armor and carrying weapons I'd only seen in Tesla Science magazines said anything. Standing distantly from the Constable and looking lost were only two of the new guards that Doyle was leading through the market for patrol experience.

My recollections stopped when Lockwood and I were pushing through the rest of Doyle's men huddled around the jail shack. Still unable to make out what the others were saying, the clear hint of amusement was heard in all the chatter, and soon enough, I was standing at the metal door, peering through the open slot in the door right beside Doyle.

The second I came to a stop, Doyle instantly halted the frustrated words he was speaking to the jail cell's inhabitant and turned to me saying;

"Paul, good, you're here. I might need you to-"

Seeing the young man sitting on the cell's cot with his head hung, I interrupted Doyle;

"What happened?"

Clearly still agitated, the frustration in Doyle's face somehow didn't appear to say that Duncan was the focus of his frustration… not entirely. Either way, Doyle answered me;

"Ha! Genius in there will tell you. After he spends the next month in the North Fields that is! Damn dumbass."

This wasn't much of an answer, but Doyle evidently wasn't in any state to give a better one. I adjusted the grip on my daughter's hand, and glanced back at her to see almost the entirety of Doyle's detachment gathered around, still chatting with one another while smirks were etched into their faces.

Turning back to the young man inside the brightly lit cell, I whistled to him;

"Mr. Schmitt, come here."

Almost like a dog, the young man stood himself up on command and strolled slowly towards the door with his head still hung and his wide hat still covering his face. At this, Doyle said through the slot, "Now you come!?"

Duncan stopped a foot from the slot and raised his head showing only a stern frustrated expression as he said to Doyle, "It's not even a big deal!-"

Doyle was assumedly just about to continue the argument they were having before I arrived when I threw myself into the middle, asking the young man through the slot;

"Duncan, tell me what happened. Why were you thrown into the jail?"

Doyle was taking deep breaths to avoid saying anything out of turn when Duncan removed the hat from his head, tossed it towards the bed, and said to me;

"I don't know, Lieutenant Paul!..." Doyle was about to jump in again. Duncan saw this, and I immediately said;

"Step one. Start from the beginning."

Duncan glanced at his lieutenant, then at all his brothers in the detachment still chatting and glancing towards him. He was about to begin when his eyes went down, he hesitated as he must have been wondering why Hannah was here too. After a moment, he said;

"Alright. You know that trader who came in about four days ago? The one always wearing a clean suit and has the guys with the plasma cannons?"

I thought of the trader standing by while Elder Larsdale was shouting at the Constable, and nodded;

"… Turns out his name is 'Levi somethin er other'… Well anyway, I was leading a couple of the new guys around the market while Lt. Doyle and the others took their own small groups around…"

I nodded again, telling the man to go on;

"… Lt. Doyle heard from one of Camden's guys that Levi and his traders never paid their stall fee or the tithe for setting up such a large team in the market gounds… Camden's guys have been assigned that stretch for the past few days now, so I don't know why they couldn't have done it sooner before we took over. I figured 'whatever' we can handle it no problem…"

I could see Doyle biting his lip as if trying desperately to not add anything while the chatting behind me got louder. Here I was able to literally feel the eyes of Doyle's men on me and him even if it was impossible for them to hear with how loud it was and how softly Duncan spoke.

"… So the new guys knew where to go, where to escort the new traders to deposit their fees if staying more than a night, so I told them to go about it… I just stood by, letting my guys take the reins, but then Mister Levi's Goons Threatened them! They refused to pay at all, and brandished those big green plasma guns… that shit- stuff happens sometimes, so when the new guys came back to me, I thought I'd show them how to handle something like that-"

Why was I smiling? I couldn't figure this out as Doyle continued to bite his lip while his eyes got "calmer" and the noise of the other men got even louder. I asked;

"So, what did you do?"

"I made Levi pay, simple as that-" said Duncan before I at last felt two hands on my shoulders, and suddenly the faces of Hudson and Ray appeared in my peripherals as Hudson said on my right;

"He did more than that, LT. He stuck his pistol in Levi's face and dragged him by the collar all the way to the collections box outside the market church!"

Ray on my right looked from Duncan on the other side of the door to me and said, "Levi's guards were so confused! They were all like 'Boss? You want us to fire!?' Hahaha!"

Doyle now was biting his lip to keep from laughing, I felt the smile on my face get a little wider, and as the chatter behind me morphed into laughter, I asked,

"I see now. But what was the problem? And how long you in for?"

As soon as I asked this question, the laughter ceased, and Duncan froze what he was going to say. I turned just in time to see the Constable part the crowd like the red sea, and before I even thought about it, I moved out of the way, feeling Hannah hold my waist as the Constable pushed his key into the lock. With a metallic *Clank*, he swung the door open, stood aside, and a moment of silence passed before Duncan took two steps into the open. He looked up at the towering Constable, glancing hesitantly at the men still all silent.

"So am I free to go, Constable?"

The second the last word left his lips, the young man was grabbed by the collar in Hannah's grandpa's enormous hand, lifted two feet off the ground, and slapped so hard across the face it left a few dots of blood on the cobblestone of town. The Constable bore an anger I'd only ever seen twice in my life as the poor kid was then thrown to the ground. The young man lay there on the ground, clutching his arm that was apparently really hurt in his landing, and his eyes grew wide in a type of fear nobody had ever seen on them before.

This was the answer to the question: was Duncan afraid of anything? If there was anything that could bring fear to anyone, it was probably upon seeing the gentle giant commander of the New Canaan guard when he was truly angry. The young Duncan must have been no different… but was that it? The fact his eyes remained full of fear seemed to say something else since they stayed like that as the Constable answered both of the final questions I had for the young man;

"Did it ever FUCK-FRICKING OCCUR TO YOU TO SEEK BACKUP BEFORE TRYING TO PLAY COWBOY HERO LONE RANGER!?..."

The young man stayed there on the ground, completely frozen, holding his arm in pain but not daring to take his eyes away from the Constable.

"Or how about check to see who's watching!? DID YOU EVER THINK THERE MIGHT BE WITNESSES TO THE THINGS YOU DO!? And I'M NOT just talking about GOD! I'm talking about PASTOR RUDEE! OR HELL, WHAT ABOUT ELDER LARSDALE!?..."

Nobody in the congregation of Doyle's men could look away from the young Duncan's face. Nobody had ever seen him that frightened, and everyone aside from Doyle and I had never seen the Constable so angry;

"Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is to say anything in your defense after doing something like that in front of someone like an Elder!? DID YOU LEARN ANYTHING ON YOUR MISSION!? It may come as a shock to you to hear there's other ways of getting things done besides sticking your gun in someone's face!..."

Still, the Constable went on; "We already have one Graham, so we don't need another! So you can spend the next six days thanking God I talked the Elder down from temporary exile tribunal to seven days confinement while you run messages for me…"

We could all see Duncan grow an expression of absolute dread at the word, "exile" but all of us looked to one another in slight confusion at the sentence. As the Constable collected his breath, a silence lingered before Duncan managed to stammer from his spot on the ground;

"So, am- am I going back in there?"

His eyes darted briefly towards the open jail cell before the Constable said to him still more angry than most had seen, but steadily easing back down;

"Officially, yes. But you're free to go now. I'm not having the elders tell me how to run my guard, but you're certainly going to be confined to barracks. Starting tomorrow morning, you're going to be my shadow and you're going to do everything I tell you to do. Whether that's cleaning out outhouses, running messages, or digging ditches till your arms fall off, I'll let you know. But you're also going to turn into a damned ghost if anyone from the temple sect even glances your way. Maybe that will give you some situational awareness!"

Again, the Constable collected his breath and the rest of us stayed silent before the Constable concluded;

"Now, stand up."

The young man glanced at us with a look of embarrassment as he unfroze and began to stand himself up. His arm was too bruised and scraped to do this alone, and the Constable saw this. The realization of how he treated him just then caught up as the Constable helped the young man up. Upon grabbing the kid by the shoulder and helping him up, the Constable stood the boy to his feet and immediately squatted down till he was at eye-level with him. The Constable held the young man's arm, studied the dark purple bruise, rubbed some dirt and gravel from the open little gash, and began to study his face, turning it this way and that. The Constable wiped the blood from the young man's nose, and the whole scene looked like a dad cleaning up his toddler after watching him take a fall during play. After a moment, the Constable dabbed his glove with his tongue, wiped the dry blood from the young man's cheek, and said to him very softly;

"I'm sorry, son. My temper really got the better of me. Do you forgive me?"

The face of the young man bore complete confusion since standing to his feet and undergoing the Constable's cleanup. My mind went back to times the Constable had done the same for me when I was growing up, and after taking a beating. Then it went to times I did the same for Joseph, Michelle, and even Hannah who was still clinging to my side. After a second, the young man said in a voice of humility and a lingering tinge of embarrassment;

"Yeah, I-… Thanks for standing up for me, and I'm sorry about what happened. I'll pay more attention to who's watching, and get backup next time…"

The Constable nodded, slicked the young man's hair back how he usually kept it, and stood himself back up, keeping his gaze on the young man as he said aloud;

"Doyle. Walk Mr. Schmitt here over to Dr. Stepp's to get a wrapping for his arm. Have the doc make sure his nose isn't broken too."

Doyle nodded but stayed where he was by the door, and the Constable looked to the rest of Doyle's onlooking detachment;

"Duncan here was the warning. Don't any of you think you can do something as stupid as what he did and get away with it. I'll be happy to give worse punishments to anyone who wants to try their luck. You all are still guards of New Canaan. You are still subservient to the Temple leadership. And you are all still Christians, so what you do and how you treat the people who come to our gates matters and is ALWAYS observed."

The Constable's eyes went around the circle of guardsmen and they eventually landed on me before falling to the little girl at my side. When he looked at Hannah, his eyes grew wide in shock and then returned to seriousness in half a millisecond. His eyes then returned to the others, and at last, he said;

"Lockwood, you fill in for Doyle while he's taking Mr. Schmitt to the doctor…" he glanced to Doyle, "Go on Doyle, take him to the doc and walk him up to my office when you're done. I've got plenty for him to get a start on…"

As Lockwood began to take charge of Doyle's detachment and Doyle himself began to walk the young man to Dr. Stepp's clinic, the Constable's eyes went to me;

"Sorry to pull you from your duties, Paul. Your assistance wasn't needed…" I was about to say something when his eyes went back to Hannah in an instant. He must have just realized that one of his granddaughters had seen this whole thing happen because his mustachioed face twisted to an extremely apologetic smile as he said to her;

"Sorry you had to see that, sweetheart. Your grandpa's sons of the guard can really get under his skin sometimes. That's no excuse for an outburst like that, I know, so I'm sorry for it anyway."

The girl only nodded, and released her grip on me a bit more, before I said to the Constable amidst the sound of Lockwood escorting the rest of Doyle's detachment down the street;

"No worries at all, Constable. It happens to all of us… I think I'm going to take Hannah home though if that's alright. I'll be back to finish out the training with the new guys in ten minutes."

The Constable nodded, likely believing himself to be the worst hypocrite ever by what he lectured Duncan about, and not seeing who exactly was in the audience for his own outburst. The Constable muttered, "That's fine, thank you, Paul."

I began to walk Hannah back home, wondering what to say to her about the whole situation with the young man, what to say about the Constable's outburst, and everything we talked about at the range when the Constable said from the rear;

"Hey, Paul…" I turned, seeing my commander and the man who raised me still standing beside the open jail door and looking extremely embarrassed about his conduct with the men and in front of his granddaughter. He said with his hands in his pockets;

"… I'll need your help tomorrow. Not sure when, but I got a meeting with the NCR Trade Master and need your input about a few things… just so you know."

I gave him a thumbs up, he returned one back, and I walked my daughter silently back home. Whether it was Mr. Schmitt's mistake in the market, the Constable's regrettable outburst, the marksmanship of the new guards or my daughter, or the past months that had been difficult for my whole family, the only way to go was forward.