Chapter 22: A Close Call
The next day, Harmony walked home from school, her books clutched tightly against her chest. She had heard whispers of the Nosedives and their new laws, but she didn't understand why people hated the buzzards so much. All she knew was that Baron was her friend, and he deserved the same chances she had. She skipped along the dusty road, her thoughts a jumble of spelling tests and flying lessons.
The sun beat down on her, making her pant, but she didn't dare stop. She was eager to get to the Buzzard Ranch and tell Baron about her day. As she rounded the bend that led to the ranch, she heard the distant sound of laughter. It was a harsh, cruel laugh that sent a shiver down her spine. Harmony slowed her pace, her eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of trouble. That's when she spotted them—Edmund and his gang of young ruffians, lurking in the shadows of an abandoned barn.
Her heart racing, Harmony tried to remain calm. She knew she couldn't outfly them, not with the weight of her books slowing her down. Instead, she took a deep breath and continued walking, her eyes locked straight ahead. She didn't dare look back, didn't dare acknowledge their presence. The closer she got to the ranch, the louder their whispers grew, their footsteps heavier. It was like they were taunting her, playing a twisted game of cat and mouse.
As she approached the gate to the Buzzard Ranch, she felt their eyes on her, the weight of their malice pressing down on her back. Harmony swallowed hard, her feathers bristling. She knew she had to be brave—for Baron, for Becky and Avery, for all the buzzards and vultures in High Wind Gulch. She couldn't let them win.
Edmund stepped out from the shadows, a smarmy smile on his face. "Hey there, Harmony," he called out, his voice as smooth as snake oil. "What's got you all flustered?"
Harmony's feathers stood on end as she turned to face him, her eyes narrowing. "I ain't flustered, Edmund," she said firmly, in a steady tone, despite the fear that rippled through her. "And I ain't buyin' what you're sellin' neither."
Edmund's smile grew wider, but there was a glint of something darker in his eyes. "Now, now," he said, holding up his hands in a mock surrender. "No need to get your feathers all ruffled. I was just wonderin' if you'd heard the latest about those buzzards over at your place."
Harmony's grip tightened around her books. "I know exactly who you're talkin' about," she said in a firm tone. "And I don't take kindly to folks spreadin' rumors about my friends." She said this while getting closer to Edmund's face with a piercing gaze.
Baron watched the exchange from the porch of the ranch, his feathers ruffling in the light breeze. His heart hammered in his chest as he saw the tension in Harmony's stance. He knew Edmund and his gang were up to no good as always, but he had faith in his friend's ability to handle herself.
Edmund took a step closer, his smile never wavering. "Now, now, Harmony," he said, like a serpent's hiss. "There's no need to get so defensive. I'm just here to chat, that's all."
But Harmony wasn't fooled. She'd seen that smile before—the one that always came before he and his gang started trouble. "Well I ain't here to chat, Edmund," she said, her voice as sharp as a knife. "I've got better things to do than waste my breath on the likes of you. Now if you excuse me..." She was getting ready to leave and tell them to beat it. She didn't see Baron tensed, ready to jump in if needed, but Harmony stood her ground. She looked Edmund right in the eye and said, "I know your kind. You ain't nothin' but a bunch of bullies, pickin' on folks just 'cause they're different. But you ain't gonna scare me off." Her voice was firm, filled with a conviction that seemed to echo across the dusty landscape.
Edmund's smile faltered for a moment before he regained his composure. "Oh, I wasn't trying to scare you, Harmony," he said, his tone now laced with sarcasm. "I was just curious about your little... buzzard buddy." He spat out the last word like it was a piece of rotten meat.
"Baron is a better bird than any of you'll ever be," Harmony shot back, her eyes flashing with anger. "Now, unless you wanna find out what a real hawk can do, I suggest you skedaddle before I go and tell my pa about your little visit." She was ready to take a huge stick from the ground and use it in self-defense.
Baron stepped forward, his beak set in a firm line. "You heard her, Nosedive," he said, his voice low and threatening. "Better fly back to your daddy's shadow before you get your feathers ruffled for real." He wasn't reluctant to use his fists against Edmund if he had to fight fire with fire, just as his parents told him to.
Edmund's smile grew wider as he took in the smaller, younger buzzard, staring down hard into his face to put fear into him. "Oh, look at you," he jeered, his voice a mocking caw. "Think you're tough, don't you? Why, you couldn't even beat your own shadow in a fair fight, let alone someone like me." His friends snickered, egging him on.
Baron's cheeks flushed with anger, but he stood his ground. "I might be smaller," he retorted, his voice steady despite the quiver in his wings, "but I've got more heart than all of you put together." He stepped closer to the larger eagle boy, his eyes never leaving Edmund's. "And I've had enough of your kind pushing us around."
Edmund's smile grew, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Oh, is that so?" He said, his voice dripping with condescension. "Well, I suppose you're right, in a way. After all, it's not your size that makes you a laughing stock, it's your blood." He gestured to his friends, who chuckled in agreement.
Baron's feathers bristled with rage, his fists clenching at his sides. "You know nothin' about me or my family," he spat back. "And if it comes to it, I'd rather be a 'laughing stock' than a coward like you, hiding behind your pa's name and your gang."
Edmund's smile disappeared, replaced by a scowl, now jabbing a finger into the young buzzard's chest, pushing him back. "Careful with that beak of yours, Buzzard," he warned. "You might just bite off more than you can chew carrion." His friends took a step closer, their laughter turning into sinister chuckles.
Baron stumbled back, his eyes never leaving Edmund's. The older eagle was almost twice his size and had been the bane of his existence since they were hatchlings. But now, with the weight of his family's struggles and the whispers of rebellion in his ears, he felt something new—a burning anger that surged through him like a desert storm. "You think you're so high and mighty, don't you?" Baron retorted, his voice shaking with emotion. "But you're just a bully, scared of anybody who don't fit into your perfect little world."
Edmund's eyes narrowed, his smug expression slipping. "You think you know anything, Buzzard?" He sneered. "You and your kind are the scourge of this town. Good for nothin' but stealin' and eatin' the dead." His friends jeered, their voices echoing his words. Harmony stepped closer to Baron, her own anger flaring.
Baron's voice was steady. "That's enough, Edmund." He said it with a conviction that surprised even himself. "You don't know anything about us, except for what your folks taught you." He squared his shoulders, trying to look bigger than he was. "We ain't your enemies. We're just trying to live our lives, same as you."
Edmund's laughter grew louder, his chest puffing out like a rooster's. "Oh, please," he said, waving a dismissive wing, which threw Baron on the ground, now peering hard into his face, his beak touching his. "You're just a bunch of bottom-feeders. You Buzzards think you're better than everyone else just because you can fly a bit higher?" He leaned closer, breath hot and foul. "You're nothin' but glorified buzzards, and you never will be one of us."
Baron's eyes flashed with a fiery defiance that had been smoldering within him for as long as he could remember. He pushed himself up to his full height, feathers standing tall despite his smaller frame. "We ain't the ones who need to look down on others to feel important," he shot back, his voice quivering with anger. "You're the one who's scared of what you don't understand, who you really are deep down."
Edmund's gang snickered, enjoying the spectacle of their leader putting the lowly buzzard in his place. But Harmony could see something different in Baron's eyes—a determination that had not been there before.
"Is that right?" Edmund sneered, his feathers ruffling. "Well, maybe it's time someone taught you a lesson, Buzzard. Something you'll never learn from those books of yours." He shoved Baron, sending him sprawling in the dirt.
Baron's world spun for a moment, his breath knocked out of him. Then he felt Harmony's gentle touch on his shoulder. "You okay?" she whispered, her eyes full of concern.
Baron nodded, his gaze fixed on Edmund's retreating back. "Yeah," he managed, pushing himself to his feet. "But we ain't gonna let this keep happenin'. Not to us, and not to nobody else." Harmony nodded solemnly, her eyes hardening with resolve.
Without warning, she took a deep breath and called out, "Billy Bob Fork-tongue, ain't it funny how folks don't know your daddy's been stealin' from the school fund?" The lizard boy's eyes widened in horror as the color drained from his scales. His smug grin vanished, replaced by a look of pure panic.
The gang looked at each other in confusion, then at Billy Bob, whose eyes darted back and forth like a trapped animal's. "It's not true!" he squeaked; his voice high with fear. But the doubt had been planted, and it grew like a weed in the fertile soil of their prejudiced minds.
Edmund's smug expression faltered, his feathers ruffling with a hint of doubt. "What's she talkin' about, Billy?" he demanded, his voice no longer as confident.
Billy Bob stuttered, trying to form words, his eyes darting between Harmony and the rest of the gang. "It's...it's a lie!" he protested weakly, but the tremor in his voice betrayed his fear. The secret he'd been hiding so carefully had been laid bare for all to see.
The rest of Edmund's gang looked at him, their confidence wavering like a candle in the wind. Harmony's revelation had hit a nerve, and it was clear that Billy Bob's secret was something they hadn't known about their leader's right-hand reptile. The whispers grew louder as they began to question each other, their unity cracking like a brittle eggshell under the weight of doubt.
Baron took this moment of confusion to stand up tall, dusting off his feathers with a fierce determination. "You're right, Edmund," he called out, his voice carrying across the dusty ground. "We ain't like you. We don't hide behind secrets and lies. Maybe it's time you looked in the mirror and faced the truth about who you really are."
Edmund's eyes narrowed, his grip on his lasso tightening. "You don't know what you're talking about," he growled, but the waver in his voice betrayed his insecurity.
Harmony stepped forward, her eyes never leaving Billy Bob's. "Oh, but I do," she said calmly. "You see, Billy Bob's been stealing from the school fund to buy all those fancy accessories you see him flaunt around. And I've got the proof." She pulled out a small, crumpled piece of paper from her pocket, waving it in the air. The gang's whispers grew to a murmur, their eyes wide with shock.
The tension in the air grew so thick, you could almost hear the crackle of it as the gang members exchanged suspicious glances, their unity shattered. One by one, they took to the skies, fleeing from the accusation that had been thrown at their comrade. The sound of their retreating wings was like the caws of scared crows, disappearing into the horizon.
Billy Bob's eyes were wide with fear and betrayal as he stared at Harmony, who held the crumpled note as if it were a weapon. "How...how did you find out?" he stuttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Harmony's gaze remained unflinching. "It don't matter how, Billy," she said, her voice firm. "What matters is that we know the truth, and it's time for you to own up to it." Baron stepped up beside her, his own fear and anger now transformed into a steely resolve.
The lizard boy looked from Harmony to Baron, then down at the ground, defeated. "I...I didn't mean to," he mumbled. "My pa made me do it. He said if I didn't, he'd..." His voice trailed off, the weight of his admission heavy in the air.
Baron felt a flicker of pity for Billy Bob, but it was quickly overshadowed by the anger that still smoldered in his chest. "It ain't about what your pa said," he said firmly. "It's about what's right and wrong." Harmony nodded in agreement, her eyes still sharp but her tone softer.
The two friends watched as the last of Edmund's gang disappeared into the distance, their feathers and fur ruffling in the dust kicked up by their retreating forms. They stood in silence for a moment, the only sound the fading echo of their footsteps. Then Harmony broke the silence. "We should tell my pa," she said, her voice firm. "He needs to know what's goin' on."
Baron nodded, his heart racing. "Yeah," he said, his voice a little shaky. "We can't let 'em keep doin' this."
The two friends watched as the last of Edmund's gang disappeared into the distance, their feathers and fur ruffling in the dust kicked up by their retreating forms. They stood in silence for a moment, the only sound the fading echo of their footsteps. Then Harmony broke the silence. "We should tell my pa," she said, her voice firm. "He needs to know what's goin' on."
Baron nodded, his heart racing. "Yeah," he said, his voice a little shaky. "We can't let 'em keep doin' this."
The two friends made their way to the sheriff's office, the crumpled note clutched tightly in Harmony's hands. As they approached, Clarence was outside, tying up Colonel, his badge glinting in the sun. He saw the determination in their eyes and knew something was wrong. "What's goin' on, you two?" he asked, his voice gentle but concerned.
Harmony stepped forward, her voice steady. "We've got something to show you, Pa," she said, handing him the note.
Clarence's eyes scanned the page, his expression growing darker with every line. He looked up, his eyes meeting Baron's. "This is serious," he said gravely. "We need to talk." The three of them stepped into the cool shade of the sheriff's office. Clarence pulled out a chair for Harmony, who sat down with a thump, her heart racing. Baron hovered nearby, his wings twitching with nerves. "Now, tell me everything," Clarence said, his voice firm but calm.
Baron took a deep breath and recounted the incident at the schoolyard, the way Edmund had goaded him, the cruel things Billy Bob had said, and finally, the confession that had tumbled out. Harmony added details, her voice clear and steady, as she described the note and its damning evidence. Clarence listened, his eyes never leaving their faces, his beak a firm line as he took in their words. As proud as he was of her for standing up to Edmund and his gang, he almost lost it when she and Baron almost put themselves in harm's way by confessing to the evidence in front of the enemy when they're supposed to keep it a secret and avoid being spotted.
"So you're sayin' Billy Bob's been stealin' from the school?" he asked, his voice low and measured. Harmony nodded solemnly, and Clarence let out a long, slow breath. "This is more serious than I thought," he murmured, tapping the note against his desk. "This ain't just about some schoolyard bullies anymore. This goes right to the heart of our town." The room was silent, the only sound the tick of the clock on the wall, echoing the ticking time bomb of the situation. Clarence leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "We gotta handle this carefully," he said at last. "We can't just go accusin' folks without solid proof."
"But Pa," Harmony began, "we saw it with our own eyes!"
Clarence's expression softened as he placed a comforting wing on her shoulder. "I know you did, honey," he said. "But we can't just go off of what we saw. We need more than that. And we need to be smart about it. And I don't like the two o' you puttin' yourself in harm's way like that when we should keep our goals to save this town a secret from the enemy."
Baron nodded in understanding, his feathers settling down a bit. "We'll be careful," he promised, his voice firm.
Clarence looked at them both, his eyes thoughtful. "Good," he said. "Now, I want you two to go home and keep this to yourselves. I'll handle it from here."
Baron and Harmony exchanged a look, understanding the gravity of the situation. They nodded and left the sheriff's office, their hearts heavy with the weight of their secret. As they stepped out into the sunlight, the warmth didn't quite reach them, the shadows of the conversation still clinging to their feathers.
Back at the Buzzard's homestead, Becky was busy with her chores, humming a tune to herself. Avery was nowhere to be seen, which was nothing unusual given his involvement with the Coyote Cutthroats. Baron knew he couldn't tell her everything, not yet. The secret was too big, too dangerous. But he couldn't shake the feeling that she'd know something was wrong.
Becky looked up from her washing as Baron and Harmony approached, her eyes searching theirs for answers. They shared a quick, meaningful glance before Baron spoke. "Ma," he began, his voice thick with the weight of their revelation. "We need to tell you somethin'."
Her expression grew concerned as she wiped her hands on her apron and stepped closer. "What is it, son?" she asked gently.
Harmony took a deep breath, her feathers ruffling. "It's about Billy Bob Fork-tongue," she said, her voice steady despite the tremble in her wings. "He's been stealin' from the school fund."
Becky's eyes widened, and she set down her washing. "What? How do you know this?" she asked, her concern palpable.
Baron took a deep breath and explained how they had stumbled upon the truth, omitting the part where they had confronted the gang. Harmony pulled out the crumpled note, laying it on the table. Becky's gaze fell upon it, her expression a mix of disbelief and anger. "This is... unbelievable," she murmured, shaking her head. "We need to tell your pa."
"He already knows Mrs. Buzzard," Harmony told her. "Me n' Baron went to him before comin' to tell you."
Becky's eyes snapped up, her worry deepening. "And what did he say?"
Baron swallowed hard, his feathers sticking to his neck. "He said we need to be careful," he replied. "That we can't just go around accusing people without proof."
Becky nodded slowly, her expression a mix of pride and fear for her son. "You did the right thing," she said, her voice tight. "But you two need to stay outta this. It's too dangerous. It might draw unwanted attention from the enemy."
Baron and Harmony exchanged glances, knowing full well the enemy she referred to - Edna Nosedive and her ilk. They had to be careful, not just for themselves, but for their families who were already caught in the crosshairs of the town's unrest. Days turned into weeks, and the tension in High Wind Gulch grew thicker than a stew in a slow cooker. Becky's secret school flourished, hidden in the shadows of the town's discrimination. The children learned not just book smarts, but the importance of standing up for what's right. Meanwhile, Avery's involvement with the Coyote Cutthroats grew more intense, and the poker games more heated.
Avery would often find himself lost in thought, his hands buried in his pockets, jingling the coins from his recent wins. He thought about the smiles Becky and Baron would have when he brought home supplies they hadn't seen in ages. The way Becky's eyes would light up at the sight of spices that had been missing from their meals, or the way Baron's would widen at the prospect of new books and materials for their secret school. The gold from Buzzard's Peak had been a gift, a way to fight back against the tyranny that Otto Bulloney had brought upon them all. He knew that every gold piece he won was a step closer to a better life for his family, a life free from the shadow of the Nosedive family's cruel laws. The poker games had become more than a simple distraction, they were a battleground, a silent protest against the injustices that were being wrought upon the vultures of High Wind Gulch. With every bluff, every victory, Avery felt a surge of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could turn the tables and regain their dignity. He knew that every gold piece he won was a step closer to a better life for his family, a life free from the shadow of the Nosedive family's cruel laws. The poker games had become more than a simple distraction, they were a battleground, a silent protest against the injustices that were being wrought upon the vultures of High Wind Gulch. With every bluff, every victory, Avery felt a surge of hope that maybe, just maybe, they could turn the tables and regain their dignity. As he strolled back to the homestead, the warm evening light casting long shadows across the dusty street, Avery's mind raced with thoughts of what he could buy with his newfound wealth. His heart ached at the memory of Becky's tired smile, the way her eyes had lost their sparkle from the constant struggle to keep their heads above water. He resolved to change that, to give her something to look forward to, something that would make her proud.
The general store loomed ahead, its wooden sign creaking in the gentle evening breeze. Avery had passed it countless times, his stomach growling at the sight of goods that were once so commonplace. Now, they were luxuries reserved for the wealthy, for those who were not ostracized for their heritage. With a plan forming in his mind, he ducked inside, the bell jingling merrily despite the gravity of his mission.
Mr. Hootenanny, the owl shopkeeper filling in for Miles Pronghorn, nodded at him, recognizing the determined glint in Avery's eyes. "Howdy, Avery," he greeted in a hushed tone, his feathers ruffled from a day of hushed whispers and suspicious glances. "What can I get ya today?"
Avery scanned the shelves, his gaze lingering on the jars of spices that Becky had longed for. He reached for a jar of paprika, feeling the weight of hope in his talons. "I'll take this," he said, placing it on the counter. "And some sugar too. Can't have cake without it, right?"
Mr. Hootenanny's eyes twinkled with understanding as he wrapped the goods in a small parcel. "You're right, Avery," he murmured. "A little sweetness goes a long way." He handed over the package with a knowing nod.
With the sun setting behind him, Avery headed home, his thoughts on the meals Becky could whip up with the spices and sugar. He could almost smell the rich aroma of stew wafting from their stove, filling their small home with warmth and love. And maybe, just maybe, he'd surprise her with a hot apple pie for dessert. The kind she used to bake back in Buzzard's Chapel, before the droughts had driven them to High Wind Gulch. As he approached their humble abode, the sound of laughter reached his ears. Baron and Harmony were playing outside, their games a stark contrast to the seriousness of the day's earlier events. For a moment, Avery allowed himself to bask in the joyful cacophony, forgetting the troubles that plagued them all. But as he stepped closer, he heard Becky's voice, low and urgent, from within the house. His steps quickened, the parcel of goods feeling suddenly weightless in his grip.
"Ma," Baron was saying, "You gotta tell Pa about the school. We can't keep it a secret forever."
Becky looked up from her sewing, her eyes filled with a mix of pride and fear. "You're right," she sighed. "But we have to pick our battles carefully. Your pa's got his hands full with the mining camp and the Coyote Cutthroats. We don't want to add to his worries."
Baron nodded, understanding the gravity of their situation all too well. He watched as Harmony ran off back home to where he could see her ranch all the way from where they were at. His thoughts, however, remained rooted in High Wind Gulch and the secrets it held.
Later that evening, as the sun painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, Avery returned home with the precious supplies. He had managed to win enough gold to keep their secret school running for another month, and perhaps even treat Becky to some of the finer things in life. But he knew the risks of revealing his involvement with the Coyote Cutthroats, so he kept the money hidden in a hollowed-out beam in the barn, tucking it away beneath a pile of hay that only he knew about.
In the kitchen, Becky was busy preparing their meager supper, her eyes lighting up when Avery placed the parcel on the table. "How on earth did you manage this?" she asked, her voice filled with wonder and a hint of suspicion.
"Ah, just a little luck and good behavior," Avery said with a wink, his beak twitching as he tried to hold back the truth. "The bosses decided we've been workin' hard, so they gave us all a bit of a bonus."
Becky looked at him skeptically but didn't push the matter. The weight of their secret school was already too much to bear. She took the supplies gratefully, her eyes misting over at the sight of the paprika and sugar. "Thank you, Avery," she murmured, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "This means the world to me and our family."
Baron watched his parents exchange glances, sensing there was more to the story than the simple explanation his father had given. He knew his dad was hiding something, but now wasn't the time to pry. The smell of the stew began to fill the room as Becky added the new ingredients, her movements a little less weary. The aroma was like a warm embrace, wrapping around them and offering a momentary reprieve from the tension outside their doors. As they sat down to eat, Baron couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment. The food was simple but flavorful, the kind that filled not just the belly but the soul. It was clear Becky had put her all into this meal, and for the first time in what felt like ages, he didn't feel the sting of hunger or the heaviness of their situation. He looked up at Avery, his heart swelling with gratitude. Whatever his father was doing, it was working, and for now, that was all that mattered. Their meal was filled with laughter and stories of the old days, before High Wind Gulch had become the battleground it was today. Avery spoke of his youth, of the wide-open skies and endless adventures he'd had with his friends. Becky chimed in with tales of her family in Buzzard's Spring, her words painting a picture of a life filled with love and acceptance. Baron listened intently, savoring every morsel of happiness that floated on the air like a warm summer breeze. For now, the origins of the gold didn't matter. The fact that they had food on the table and supplies for the school was enough to keep the shadows at bay. But as the evening grew late and the candles flickered low, Avery's expression grew solemn. He knew that the peace they enjoyed in their little homestead was a fragile thing, a house of cards that could tumble with the slightest breeze. The poker games were only buying them time, and he had to be careful not to push his luck too far.
The next day, Avery found himself at the Copper Star Saloon, the air thick with the smell of spilled whiskey and sweat. The saloon was dimly lit, the walls adorned with dusty wanted posters and the occasional mounted antler. The chatter of the townsfolk fell to a hush as he approached the poker table, his hat low over his eyes. The Nosedives had spread their influence even here, and playing with the Coyote Cutthroats was a dangerous game, even with Otto, and the Nosedive family absent during the evening hours. Across from him sat two grinning frogs, their eyes glinting in the candlelight. They were new to the saloon, strangers to High Wind Gulch, and their green skin and bulbous eyes made them stick out like sore thumbs. Avery knew better than to underestimate anyone, but something about their crooked smiles and the way they flicked their tongues made his feathers stand on end. Carl and Chris, as they introduced themselves, had come from the mines in the distant hills, seeking their fortune in the card games that had earned the saloon its reputation. They had the look of hard workers who hadn't seen the sun in days, and their pockets jingled with the promise of a hefty pot. The air grew tense as they laid their gold coins on the table, the sound of their bets echoing through the hushed saloon like the toll of a funeral bell.
Avery studied the two frogs intently, their thick fingers fumbling with the cards. They spoke in low, guttural croaks that made the other players lean in to hear. Carl's eyes never left Avery, his pupils narrowing as if sizing up the competition. Chris, on the other hand, was more jovial, his grin never faltering as he sipped his whiskey. But Avery knew better than to trust a smile in a game of poker.
He tapped his beak against his cards, feeling the rough edges of the paper. Falcon's words echoed in his mind: "Those two are slyer than a pair of coyotes with their tails on fire. Play 'em cool, but keep your eyes peeled for any funny business." Falcon had a knack for spotting trouble before it hatched, and Avery wasn't about to ignore his advice. He'd seen enough in his life to know that sometimes, the quiet ones were the most dangerous.
The frogs dealt the cards with a flourish, their webbed hands moving with surprising dexterity. Carl's eyes remained on Avery, as if he could read his soul through his poker face. Avery's feathers itched under his collar, but he kept his cool, raising his bet with a nonchalant flick of his wrist. The chips clinked together, the sound a symphony of greed and desperation. As the game progressed, he noticed Carl subtly palming an ace from his pocket when he thought no one was looking. The frog's smirk grew with each card revealed, each lie told with a twist of his wrist. Chris played the fool, his laughter ringing out and distracting the other players. But Avery's sharp eyes didn't miss a beat. He'd seen every cheat in the book, and these two were as transparent as a desert mirage. The tension grew with the size of the pot. The other players had either folded or been cheated out of their gold, leaving Avery the only obstacle between the frogs and their ill-gotten gains. His heart raced as he watched Carl's sleight of hand, but he kept his own cards close to his chest, playing the game as if he hadn't noticed the deception. Becky's words echoed in his mind: "We do what we must to survive, but we never lose ourselves in the process."
The final card was flipped over, and Avery felt the room hold its breath. The frog's grins widened, revealing a full house, but Avery had been waiting for this moment. He laid down his own hand, showing a royal flush. The room erupted in gasps, the sound of gold coins clinking together a sweet victory song. Carl's smile turned to a snarl, his hand hovering over the cards as if he could change the outcome by sheer will.
Chris leaned back, his chair squeaking under his weight. "Well, I'll be damned," he croaked, a hint of admiration in his voice. "Looks like the desert fox outsmarted us."
Carl's hand clenched into a fist, the veins bulging under his skin. His eyes never left Avery's, the hatred in his gaze as palpable as the heat from the saloon's stove. "We'll be seein' you around," he hissed, slithering out of his seat like a snake.
Chris remained seated, his smile slipping as he studied the vulture. "You're a sharp one, Buzzard," he said, his voice low and measured. "But this ain't the last hand we'll play."
Avery gathered his winnings, the gold coins warm and heavy in his claws. "Maybe not," he said, his voice steady. "But I play fair and square. Remember that."
The frogs slithered away, their defeat leaving a trail of anger and spite in their wake. Avery knew they wouldn't stay down for long. Their kind never did. But for tonight, the Coyote Cutthroats had won a small victory, and that was enough to keep the hope alive in the hearts of those who needed it most. The other players at the table offered their congratulations, some with suspicious glances at the gold he had won. But Avery knew that whispers of his poker prowess would only serve to bolster the legend of the Buzzard family. It was a fine line he was walking, and one misstep could be disastrous. As he pocketed his winnings, he felt the weight of the town's future on his shoulders.
Just as he was about to leave, the saloon doors swung open, letting in a blast of cool desert air and the unmistakable silhouette of Becky. His heart skipped a beat as he saw the concern etched on her face. She had come looking for Darla Dove, the town's seamstress, who was rumored to be inside. He had to think fast.
"Avery, what are you doing here?" Becky called out, her voice a mix of worry and confusion.
Avery's heart raced as he tried to come up with a believable excuse. He couldn't let her know about his involvement with the Coyote Cutthroats, not yet. He flashed a charming smile and sauntered over to her. "Just enjoying a little celebration, darling," he drawled, gesturing to the untouched whiskey in front of him. "You know how it is when the cattle drive goes well."
Becky's eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn't press the issue. "Well, I hope it's not too much of a celebration. I need to speak with Darla," she said, scanning the room. "The dress for Harmony's birthday party is taking forever.
Avery's pulse quickened. If Becky saw Darla talking to one of the Cutthroats, it would raise too many questions. "Oh, she's in the back, darling," he lied smoothly, pointing to a curtained-off area. "Why don't you go ahead? I'll join you in a moment."
Becky nodded, still looking a bit skeptical, but she turned and walked toward the curtain. Avery took a deep breath and downed his whiskey in one swift gulp, the burn of the liquid doing little to calm his nerves. As Becky disappeared behind the curtain, he approached the bar, leaning in close to the burly owl who served drinks. "Keep an eye on her," he murmured. "Keep her from spottin' what ain't for her eyes."
The owl nodded, understanding the unspoken message. "You got it, Avery," he said, his voice low and gruff. "But you better keep your cards close to your chest, if you know what I mean."
Avery nodded his thanks, taking a much-needed sip. The liquid burned a path down his throat, but it did little to ease the knot in his stomach. Becky's appearance had thrown him for a loop, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he was living a double life. He glanced over his shoulder, watching her silhouette through the curtains, her voice a muffled melody as she spoke with Darla. The seamstress was a friend, but if she saw the Cutthroats, it could mean trouble.
He tried to focus on the game, but his thoughts were scattered. The cards blurred together, and the laughter around him grew distant. He had to find a way to keep Becky from stumbling into the rebellion's path. It wasn't just for their family's safety; it was for the town. If the Nosedives found out about the secret school, they'd shut it down without a second thought. The whispers of hope that he had helped cultivate would be silenced, and the children of High Wind Gulch would be left to the mercy of the corrupt regime.
As Becky approached the curtain, Avery's heart skipped a beat. He had to think fast. He called out to her, "Becky, sweetheart, I got a bit of extra gold from the cattle drive. Thought I'd treat myself to a little celebration before heading home." He hoped the lie didn't sound too forced.
Her eyes searched his, looking for the truth, but she nodded. "I suppose that's fair," she said, her voice trailing off as she disappeared behind the curtain. Avery felt a wave of relief wash over him, but it was short-lived. The stakes had just gotten higher, and he had to be more careful than ever.
After a few moments, Becky emerged with Darla in tow, a beautiful dress in her talons. Harmony's eyes had lit up at the sight of it, and Becky had been beaming with pride at the joy of Clarence's daughter. The dress was a masterpiece of stitched gold and red fabric, reminiscent of the fiery sunsets that painted the Moo Mesa sky. It was clear that Darla had put her heart and soul into it, a silent testament to her support of the secret school and the hope it brought.
As Becky approached the table, Avery's heart pounded in his chest. He could see the gears turning in her sharp mind, trying to piece together his late-night escapades. But she said nothing, her expression a mask of innocence. "Looks like you've had quite the night," she quipped, her eyes lingering on the cards and gold coins scattered before him. "I'm just happy to have found that perfect dress for Harmony."
Avery forced a chuckle, playing along. "Yeah, well, you know me, darlin'. I can't resist a good poker game." He gave her a wink that he hoped was as convincing as it was nonchalant.
Becky's gaze lingered for a moment longer before she turned to Darla. "Thank you so much," she said warmly, her voice filled with genuine appreciation. "You've outdone yourself again."
Darla, a small but fiery dove, blushed under the praise. "It was my pleasure, Becky. Harmony deserves nothing but the best." She shot a knowing look at Avery, who pretended to be engrossed in his cards.
Becky took the dress and the hint. "Well, I better get home. The sun's almost up." She leaned in and whispered to Avery, her breath tickling his ear. "Don't stay out too late." Her eyes searched his, but she didn't wait for a response.
As Becky and Darla left, Avery felt a weight lift from his shoulders. But the moment the saloon door swung shut, he knew he had bought only a temporary reprieve. Becky wasn't one to let things go easily. She was sharp as a tack, and she'd be piecing this puzzle together soon enough. He had to be ready for when she confronted him. He had always known Becky was smarter than the average buzzard, but lately, she had been acting more like a hawk with her sharp eyes and keen sense of observation. It was both terrifying and fascinating to watch her navigate the treacherous waters of High Wind Gulch. Her suspicions about his nocturnal poker games had been growing for weeks, and it was only a matter of time before she figured out his secret.
The dress for Harmony was a beautiful distraction, a beacon of joy in the dusty town. Becky had talked about nothing else since Harmony had mentioned the upcoming birthday. Now that she had it in her hands, she was floating on a cloud of maternal pride and friendship. But as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the floorboards of the Copper Star, Becky's mind couldn't help but wander back to Avery's mysterious nights out.
Her suspicion grew like a cactus thorn in her side. Avery had always been the type to come home with tales of adventure, but lately, his stories had been as scarce as rain in the desert. She had seen the way the townsfolk had been whispering, the glances thrown their way when they thought she wasn't looking. The way Avery smelled of the sagebrush that only grew in the most hidden parts of the desert after his nights out was a clue she couldn't ignore.
The dress, as beautiful as it was, didn't soothe her concerns. In the quiet of their home, she laid it out on the bed, her thoughts racing faster than a jackrabbit on a moonlit night. Becky knew that Clarence, the sheriff and her closest confidant, was the one who could uncover the truth without raising too much dust. So, she waited until the house was still, and the children were fast asleep before penning a letter. The candle flickered, casting shadows on the parchment as she wrote in her elegant, curving script. She had to be careful with her words; after all, this was the era of unreliable postal pigeons and nosy neighbors. She folded the letter, sealed it with a drop of wax, and pressed her thumb into it, leaving the imprint of the family crest—a buzzard soaring above a cactus flower. The symbol of hope and resilience in the face of adversity.
Becky waited until the moon had reached its zenith before slipping out of the house. The town was quiet, save for the distant howl of a coyote and the occasional snore of a sleeping critter. She made her way to the sheriff's office, her heart thumping in her chest with every step. Clarence's office was dark, but she knew he often worked late into the night. She rapped softly on the door, the sound echoing in the stillness.
The door creaked open, and Clarence's silhouette filled the frame. He looked at her with concern. "Becky, what brings you out so late?" he asked in a hushed tone.
"I can't sleep, Clarence," Becky replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "I need your help with something."
Clarence stepped aside, allowing her into the dimly lit room. "What's on your mind?"
Becky handed him the letter, her eyes searching his face for any sign of what he might be thinking. "I think Avery's hiding something from me," she began, her voice quivering slightly. "I don't know what it is, but I can feel it."
Clarence took the letter, his gaze flicking over the wax seal before looking back at Becky. "What makes you say that?" he asked, his voice gentle but firm.
Becky took a deep breath, trying to organize her thoughts. "It's just the way he's been acting," she said, her eyes searching the room as if the answers were written on the walls. "He's more tight-lipped, more... aloof. And the chatter, Clarence. I done heard the townsfolk yappin', and it ain't just the usual silliness. It's 'bout him."
Clarence took a seat behind his desk, the leather chair creaking under his weight. He broke the seal and began to read, his brow furrowing with every line. As he reached the end, he looked up at Becky, his eyes serious. "I'll look into it," he said, his voice a low rumble. "But you gotta trust me, Becky. Whatever's going on, I'll look into it."
Becky thanked him for listening and left the sheriff's office to go back home for now.
AN: Times are still dark in the town of High Wind Gulch, but that doesn't mean all hope is lost for those that refuse to give up on winning back everything in secret against injustice and corruption. If only the real world could do the same as well. Becky may have been talked into keeping secrets temporarily for her family's safety, but she's not one to keep it forever as she's ready to tell them soon enough back home when nobody else is around. And she's asking Clarence only to keep an eye on Avery to see that he's not doing anything beyond reckless or stupid that would put them in complete danger when it comes to gambling and knows the kind of trouble it can bring when you play with the wrong poker players that don't take kindly to losing, even fairly.