If home is where the heart is, then my heart is now scattered across the Frontier.
Feels like most of it is buried with Josie and our unborn baby, over in the town I grew up in and ain’t allowed to visit no more. Can’t just drop in to New Hope and see her whenever I like, but truth is, that ain’t the only reason the sight of them tall, stone walls looming over the lake fill me with anguish and regret. Got a lot of happy memories there, many with people who ain’t here no more, to say nothing of how I got friends who still live there and I won’t get to see because they never leave. Sure, I could visit, so long as I give 3 days notice and get permission to enter, plus wear anti-magic manacles the whole time. Mr. Tillman is contesting that last bit, but the gears of justice turn slowly, and personally, I wouldn’t feel comfortable visiting a place where I ain’t wanted anyways.
So I mourn the town I grew up in same as I mourn Josie, because that place don’t exist no more. Wasn’t the location that made it home, or even the house my daddy built next to Uncle Raleigh’s. No, it was how I felt behind those walls that made New Hope home, and that feeling just ain’t there anymore.
A good chunk of my heart is also buried with my parents. Deep in the Badlands and up top of the mesa, that’s also home for me. Or more specifically, what I hope will be my eventual home, my final resting place as it were, with a diagram of a plot marked out right beside my parents tucked in with the rest of my will. Drew that up shortly before I started riding solo, because you never know what might happen out there on the wild Frontier. Hell, I’m coming back from the Deadlands after getting beat up and shot down, so that only reinforces the need for a will. Then again, I’m pretty sure I would’ve been cremated if I’d’ve died in the Deadlands, though I’m sure Edward, Aaron, and Luther would’ve made sure my ashes make their way back east to be scattered up on the mesa. They might even have helped handle it themselves, but I get the feeling they ain’t free to come and go as they please, and it ain’t just because of Edward’s idiosyncrasies.
Yeah, Mimics be a whole lot tricksier than I gave them credit for, and I’m paying for it in spades. Will be for some time moving forward I think, but ain’t nothing I can’t handle. I hope.
I got other bits and pieces of my heart buried six feet under too. With Uncle Raleigh in New Hope, who wasn’t like a father to me, but was one in truth, my second daddy who taught me how to be easy breezy and not take everything so seriously. Taught me a lot of other stuff too, like how to ride, how to dress, how to smile, dance, sing, and play a guitar, though I ain’t done that last bit in a while now. Just haven’t had the time, but I suppose I’ll have plenty of it in the next few weeks while I mend up from the Bolt that went clean through my chest and missed my heart by a bare fraction of a millimetre.
So you could say I lost a piece of my heart to that Bolt in the Deadlands, but I don’t mourn it. Not like I mourn the piece lost alongside Marcus way up in the mines of Pleasant Dunes. We’d only just reconnected after a few years apart, and then I went and let him down by getting him killed. I should’ve been smarter about it, should’ve prepped Lance to take down the Proggie, or hit it with Hunter’s Mark to keep tabs on it. Could’ve warned them it was playing possum, or lent a hand and killed it outright, and then maybe Marcus would be alive and well and stupid Wayne would’ve never had the balls to do what he did and come at me with threats against Tina and the other boots. Or I would’ve been in my right mind and never believed he’d go through with it, not him or Ronald Jackson behind him, because Lord knows Uncle Teddy would’ve turned Pleasant Dunes upside down if he lost the first batch of boots on a mission up there.
Got more of my heart scattered all around the Frontier, and not all with the dearly departed. There are people who still live and breathe who carry a piece of me, like Tim Hayes, the older brother I never had or really wanted, but was still there for me all the same. Then there’s Uncle Rigsby, the stern, disciplinarian uncle who I can’t really look in the eye no more for shame of what I’ve done, but he’s still family all the same. Sam Horne was like a second Mentor, a man I always felt the need to impress, as he never gave his seal of approval lightly, not even to a kid of 6 years who was dead set on not just being a Ranger, but the best damn Ranger there ever was, is, and will ever be. A dream he helped keep alive by encouraging me to push my limits, not with stern disapproval but warm support, coming in to tell me all that I done wrong and how I can do better, while still gassing me up the whole while.
Don’t know if he’d still feel the same after hearing what I done, because he’s a lot like Uncle Teddy. The law is the law, and ain’t no two ways about it, because Sam Horne is and always will be a soldier first, one who upholds duty above all else.
Then there’s Edward, Aaron, and Luther who I’ve only just reconnected with after almost a decade apart. My heart is heavy for them, because I seen how bad it is in the Deadlands and what they up against, while also knowing their government ain’t let them leave for years now because they’re done such a bang-up job there so far. That and the fact that they’re worried the trio all got Mimics stuck inside of their heads and might go all killy-stabby on the people of the commonwealth, but let’s be honest. If Edward ever did snap, it’s about 50-50 on whether it was a Mimic whodunnit or simply the natural, murderous tendencies Old Bloody Bill bred into the Elton bloodline alongside so very many Spell Cores.
Course, Noora’s got a hold of a good piece of my heart too, though that’s more on me than her. She didn’t take it from me. I gave it freely to her and refused to take it back even when I saw the writing on the wall. Just left it with her in the vain hopes that something would change, namely all her goals, ambitions, and aspirations. Sure, she could’ve stayed at my side and been my partner in crime instead of Tammy’s, but we both know that wouldn’t have worked out, not while I was hanging all the misery from Josie’s death all around her. Not because I blamed her, but because I couldn’t separate the good times from the bad, and Noora wanted to be free of it all.
So she left. Got going while the going was still good, because she saw the writing on the wall. I wasn’t looking for a partner in crime, and truth be told, still don’t really want one. I wanted a life partner, a wife to have my babies and look after the house, but that wasn’t what Noora wanted, and I couldn’t see that.
I do now, but I’m still hoping she’ll change her mind even though I know good and well she won’t.
Hate to admit it, but I left a part of my heart with Elodie too. Even though Noora’s the one with sticky fingers, Elodie done stolen my heart, though not necessarily in a romantic sort of way. The sweet girl is like a sister to me, one I love and cherish as much as I love my other sorta-sisters. While my lizard-brain might have some other ideas about what we could do together, I wouldn’t ever touch a single hair on Elodie’s head in such a manner, as she don’t know what she really asking for. Still hurts to know that she’s more than a week’s travel away, learning to be a hata?ii or whatever her role might be as a government official of the Métis Nation. A far cry from how it was when she was only an hour’s trek away and wont to show up out of the blue flashing her sweet smile to ask for sweets that I was always more than happy to share.
Makes it real hard to tell Carter and Miss Amelie that their darling daughter done run off to join the army. Which ain’t technically true, but might as well be, and while they don’t take it out on my hide, I get the feeling it’s only because I’m wounded and therefore not fair game. Might change when I’m healthy though, as I wouldn’t be surprised to get a beatdown from Carter as soon as he’s sure I’ll survive it.
Of course, the lion’s share of my heart do be with my immediate family, that being Chrissy, Tina, and Aunty Ray. While I’ve had Chrissy with me this whole time, it do warm the heart to see the latter two show up to greet us before I’ve got the Longhorn Belle squared away in the dry dock. Tina being Tina charges in without really thinking and almost bowls me over with a hefty hug, one that’s got me reeling from both the impact of the collision and the solid wave of floral scents that hits me like a truck after almost a full month spent roughing it out in the swamps.
“Sorry,” Tina’s says, as soon as she realizes I ain’t faking my weak-kneed grimace. Takes a lot to bounce back after getting shot, more than I care to admit, so I force a smile and hug her nice and tight to show that I missed her too. Chrissy gets in on it too, and the twin sisters get to hugging and nuzzling while I’m caught in between, doing mental math to fend off the wave of impure thoughts that I can’t wholly blame on the shard of Mimic stuck inside of my head and urging me to give in to my baser instincts.
Fact is, it could even be two shards from two Mimics. Who knows? Not me, that’s for sure.
Aunty Ray is more reserved to start off with, but as soon as she got me, Chrissy, and Tina all wrapped in her steely embrace, she goes all out-planting kisses on all three of us. Ain’t nothing I can do about it, as she’ll only demand more if I shy away or make faces, so I thank the Heavens I was able to convince Gunnar, Harald, and Astrid to head home to Providence from Carter’s compound instead of making the longer trek from the quay. Last thing I need is an audience seeing this and spreading more rumours about how we all ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ up here.
Course, it don’t help that a part of me would really like that. Can’t help but take notice of how that Mimic locked in the basement laboratory of nightmares took on the image of a naked, buxom beauty with the wavy gold hair of golden silk and eyes bluer than blue. Could’ve been Aunty Ray’s sister or cousin looking like that, so the fact that the Mimic could’ve chosen to look like anyone in the world and chose to look like the woman who done raised me says some real unsavoury things about who I am considering the Mimic was up inside my head and could see what I really want.
So much so I can’t even pretend not to love being in the middle of a big group hug with my three best girls. Aunty Ray sees it, notes it down, and takes full advantage of while she can, as I ain’t exactly been what you’d call warm and cuddly these last few years. I’m thinking she’s also thinking I’m a little shook up, what with how I come so close to dying at the hands of a jittery French Capitaine. Ridiculous is what that is, what with how I done been riding solo for four years now and been through a whole lot of scrapes, but the one who almost does me in is some fool whose name I can’t even remember no more. Would’ve thought it’d be someone more memorable, like Ronald Jackson, Francis Pugliano, or you know, some big bad experienced Abby like a Hobgoblin Illusionist or stalking Razorscythe, but nope. Just some soldier out there doing his job and slipping up just the once because he was so nervous about going up against the Firstborn.
Or rather, the people backing said Firstborn. Doubt a Capitaine of the French Chevaliers was really all that worried about little old me, or at least not so worried as to get so jittery as to pop one off without meaning to. Nah, he was more worried about the consequences of his actions, namely what Edward Elton would do to him once he learned that someone arrested the Firstborn and brung him in for questioning. That’s all it was, with maybe a bit of extra help from the ubiquitous Mimics all up in the Deadlands who mess with your head in ways you probably don’t even notice most of the time.
Like right now, where I got the urge to breathe deep and take in the scents of the women around, the soft, lovely, and oh so very loving women who I should only see as family. At least I still got willpower enough to keep my ungodly thoughts from making a fool outta me with an inconvenient erection, but not for much longer if Aunty Ray keeps alternating between planting kisses on my head and pulling back to take a look like she can’t believe I’m really here. Must’ve been real worried seeing how she would’ve heard over the Radio how I done got shot probably a few days back. Even if Edward and company didn’t think to pass word along, someone in the Rangers would’ve seen to it that Aunty Ray and Uncle Teddy would’ve been warned, though these days, I’m not so sure Uncle Teddy would care all that much about it.
No, that ain’t fair. He’s still my Uncle Teddy, still family all the same. Ain’t his fault I failed to live up to expectations, nor was it his decision to draw a line in the sand between us. It was mine, because even though I know he’d be willing to set everything aside and just be family, I know he got too many eyes on him to be harbouring a dangerous Qink who’s only one step shy of being a felon.
Not that that’s stopped Aunty Ray, who treats me like I’m still eight as she breaks off from the hug to make sure I’m alright. “Oh Lord,” she says, after confirming I ain’t missing any bits or pieces no more and has made sure that my dressings don’t need changing right quick, “When I heard you done been shot, my heart done stopped for a full minute at least.”
“Saved Howie,” Chrissy says, nuzzling in against my shoulder, and we all trade smiles to hear it. Well, me and Aunty Ray trade smile, while Tina pouts ever so slightly because she’s jealous that Chrissy got to save my hide before she could. Which is just silly on so many levels, mostly because Chrissy didn’t really save me, but rather helped me recover from said gunshot, but I ain’t about to argue.
“You sure did, Chrissy,” I say, touching my head to hers at the same time as Aunty Ray, and Chrissy melts beneath all the attention. “Couldn’t have made it back so quick without you helpin’ every step of the way.”
Aunty Ray also lavishes praise on Chrissy, then plants one last kiss on my cheek just to be sure I’m really there. Drawing back from our group hug, she can’t stop herself from cupping my chin with both hands, so pleased that I’ve made it back but worried all the same. “Alright girls,” she declares, shooing them off and freeing me from their crushing embrace. “Give Howie some room to breathe now. You and Chrissy take a seat while me and Tina bring you boat in.”
“I can – ”
Two words. That’s all I manage to squeeze out before Aunty Ray hits me with her patented glower, with her head tilted, shoulders squared, and one hand on her hip. To make matters worse, she got her jaw clenched and one finger in my face as she directs her ire right at me and says, “Don’t you even think about it mister. Bad enough you done got shot to begin with. Then you come a rushin’ home less than a week after surgery when you should be restin’ in bed, and now you want to be workin’ with heavy machinery? You had open chest surgery Howie, with some British doctor who’s overworked and underpaid rummagin’ around in there doin’ Lord knows what, only for you to go and undo most of his work just because you can’t sit still in a hospital bed like a proper patient.”
“I didn’t rush home,” I retort, hating how whiny I sound yet still loving this all the same. “They gave me a clean bill of health and sent me on my merry way.”
“Course they did, because you get what you pay for.” Aunty Ray claps back with an argument that’s so American I can’t help but grin. “Don’t you laugh. Free healthcare sounds all fine and dandy when it comes time to settle the bill, but who knows what that doctor might’ve missed in his rush to free up an extra hospital bed? You plant yourself on that log there and get off of your feet before you topple over and hurt yourself. Already sent word to the Sheriff about gettin’ you in to see your Uncle Art. It’s already late, so we’ll head out tomorrow mornin’, but if I see so much as a drop of sweat on your head tonight, mark my words. I’ll throw you in the back of your wagon and drive you into town myself, and Lord help anyone who tries to stop me.”
Because infection is the biggest killer out here on the Frontier. It’s been more than two weeks since they cut me open though, so the fact that I ain’t taken fever just yet means I’m pretty much out of the woods. I even say as much, which don’t convince Aunty Ray none, but also don’t slow her or Tina as they winch the longhorn belle in. Meanwhile Cowie and the kiccaws make a big show of dancing, prancing, and hopping about in a merry little show as they all happy to be home and reunited with the kiccaws who stayed behind. They’re all here too, having followed Tina and Aunty Ray out to greet us here by my personal dock, one that sits just south of the village proper and ain’t technically claimed. I’ll be changing that soon enough, as I had Mr. Tillman add this little inlet into the territory I’ll be claiming as Independent land, mostly because I want to build my house here.
Away from the crowd as it were, a ten-minute stroll away from my closest neighbour if I build right on the edge of my property line here. Plus it gives me a personal inlet to dock in, one that’s much too shallow for a commercial boat. Technically, I already got a homestead claim on the warehouse foundation I done dug up on the north side of the village. Don’t much care for the location though, as there’s far too much traffic going to and from the docks. Here on the south side however, there ain’t no reason for any strangers to come by, not unless they coming in by foot or horse. Which they wouldn’t if they’re coming from New Hope, meaning the only folks I can expect to ever darken my doorstep would be folks from Carter’s compound, Clayton’s place to the east, or Providence to the southeast.
Makes it the perfect location really. Got plans to build myself a nice little cabin close to my shed of a boathouse, with a lovely, unobstructed view of the lake on one side and calm, quiet wilderness for the rest. The ten-minute trek into town is more like two minutes by horse or Floating Disc, and that distance means anyone who needs me might think twice about coming all this way. Ain’t the same when I’m living in the big house sitting smack dab in the center of the village and directly across from the docks no less. Course, I picked that house for that very reason, as it meant I could keep an eye on things when I’m around. Also means I’m readily available to anyone who might want a word though, which is annoying when it ain’t someone I can simply ignore, threaten, or shoot for bothering me on a whim.
Like my future neighbours for example, though I don’t got none of them just yet. Then again, if I’m going Independent, I can technically make up whatever laws I like so long as they don’t infringe on human rights or go against what’s stated in the Accords. I was planning on just sticking with those, as law do be a tricksy thing, but maybe I can squeeze something in there like a fine for bothering me for no good reason at all. I am the only resident after all, so even if I put it to a democratic vote, it’ll be whatever I say goes before anyone moves in.
Or so I thought, but it turns out there’s been a fair few changes here in the five or so weeks I been away. Left in early March, and now it’s almost mid April, but aside from the warmer weather, I was expecting everything to be the same when I got back. Problem is, I left Aunty Ray in charge, and she’s always been something of a go-getter. In the time I’ve been gone, she’s brought all my bees up to the quay, because she didn’t want them missing out on the Spring bloom or going hungry come winter because they didn’t know their way around well enough to stock up on enough food. She’s also brung the wallies up and built them a little enclosure in the ranch, one that sits right behind the big house for easy access.
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Neither of which she could’ve done by herself mind you, but she apparently had plenty of help in the form of a fair few familiar faces. Most of whom I was never expecting to see again, and I pick out one in particular to greet as he’s standing at the front of the crowd.
“Carl?” I ask, glad I can still put a name to the pockmarked face of the gate guard from Pleasant Dunes. Who’s now standing out front of the big house with a good number of other folks who were displaced from the company town after I done killed their President and C.E.O Ronald Jackson. Freeing my arms from Chrissy and Tina, I reach out to clasp his hand with my right and even get a proper grip on the other man’s hand thanks to all my practice and Scripting. Ain’t much else a man can do while laid up in bed after all, and it’s paying off in spades. “What brings you all this way? Last I heard, y’all was up in Meadowbrooke gettin’ settled in.”
Wasn’t like they could stay in Pleasant Dunes, not when all the guns and wealth was tied up in the company. Those who didn’t leave with the Rangers were pretty much rolling the dice with their lives, hoping that whoever stepped up to fill Ron’s shoes would treat them the same way. Or better, though chances are, the next head honcho would’ve been so much worse, assuming one even stood out long enough to seize the reins of control. Thing is, even though Carl wasn’t a member of Vanguard National, he was affiliated seeing how they signed his paychecks. That’s why I’m a little nervous to see him and want my gun arm free, as well as Tina who’s got her guns strapped too. Even better is the fact that Chrissy’s more present in reality these days, and she senses something in my tone or posture that tells her to take cover behind me. She don’t cower or nothing, as I can feel her peeking over my shoulder at the stranger in our midst and all too ready to unleash her magic to stop him if he do anything untoward.
Yeah, she ain’t no wilting violet, our Princess here, and my heart swells with pride to see how far she’s come while simultaneously clenching in worry that she might one day read things wrong and do something she can’t take back.
Luckily for Carl, he don’t look like a man yearning for vengeance, as he ain’t even armed. He got a big knife on his belt, but that’s more of a tool than weapon really, one he leaves untouched as he tries to hide his surprise at the fact that my right hand seems more or less intact underneath the glove.
“Well,” he begins, looking sorta sheepish as he smiles at Aunty Ray, who gives him a reassuring nod to go ahead. “Truth is, there wasn’t much work to go around up in Meadowbrook, nothing besides mining at least. I been down under dark before, and don’t much care for it, not for the pay they’re offering at least. A few weeks back, some little lady with a Ranger badge showed up and tracked down those of us from Pleasant Dunes who was still looking for work. Told us all about how the Firstborn had a whole village of houses he was looking to fill with honest, hardworking folk, and I figured I’d come by to see if I got a shot.”
That’d be Sarah Jay, who’s even more of a go-getter than Aunty Ray, and I suppose I got a piece of my heart with her too, as she’s a better friend than I deserve.
“Showed up about two weeks after you left,” Aunty Ray supplies, patting my head and soothing my ruffled feathers before I even know I’m out of sorts. “Brung seven families with him, twenty-nine people total, and I told them all to just pick a house and settle in until we had a chance to talk it over with you.” Now, I reckon I got a pretty good poker face, but Aunty Ray can read me like an open book, so she gives my cheek a firm pinch and asks, “What else was I supposed to do? Tell ‘em to camp out on the green with so much shelter to be had?”
Well, no, but hospitality is one thing, and legality another. Not to mention how it’s gonna be a whole lot harder saying no to folks who done already moved in. Course, I don’t let none of that show, and even eke out a genuine smile as the rest of the prospective neighbours show up for a meet and greet. Including Vincente, who’s mangled mug greets me with a boisterous laugh and a hearty hug. “Seems Santa Muerte is not ready for you just yet,” he says, gesturing at my oversized dressing that’s visible even through my shirt while giving Cowie his due scritches. Shaking his head, Vincente adds, “Loco Qino, still at it, hey? Come. You must meet mi Bonita y los ni?os.”
The wife and two kids, the latter of whom are about six and eight while looking nothing like their daddy. Lucky for them, as Vicente got a mean and ugly look to him, even if he do be a big softie inside. I know this because despite looking the part, he didn’t care to sign on with Vanguard National and lord over his fellow townies. Takes a special sort of man to say no to money and power like that, and the same goes for Carl, who’s shacked up with the nice Euro gal from the saloon, the one who asked about Cowie’s name way back when and whose name I done forget since. All good, salt of the earth people from all corners of the old world, because regardless of all his other faults, can’t no one say Ronald Jackson was racist.
Either way, I could do worse than having these fine people as neighbours. There are three other guards I recognize from the crowd, townie who guarded the walls and mines both without being a part of Vanguard National. They brung their wives and families, and they all vouch for the sixth family, a Middle Eastern couple, Yussef and Nadia, who got a last name I can’t pronounce much less Spell, but seem like fine folk all the same with their three, cherubic children.
Aunty Ray starts listing off all the ways they been helping, but I know when I’m already beat. Would’ve liked to have some choice in the matter, but the decision’s already been made, as these be the first new families to join Ming’s Quay. Really hope that don’t none of us come to regret it in the days, weeks, months, or even years to come though. Most of the kids be much younger than me, but that’s true of most kids as folks weren’t feeling all that comfortable about having children until eight or ten years after the Advent. One face in particular stands out however, because it’s a scowling one that don’t belong to any of the other six families, meaning they’re a seventh family of just one.
The last person to show up is a girlish boy who’s young enough to look like he needs minding, but old enough to look after himself. Got pale skin and an androgenous face topped with long, brown hair pulled back in a low ponytail, a look I’m sure the girlies go crazy for. Almost looks familiar too, though I’m having trouble placing where I seen him before. The old clothes Aunty Ray dug out of my closet fit the kid well enough, as I hit a wild growth spurt after I turned sixteen that saw me shoot up about half a foot in one year to reach my current 5’9 height. Puts the kid between 5’2 and 5’4, as it’s hard to tell with how he slumps his shoulders like he’s shrinking inwards. Doesn’t wear the clothes well either, all dishevelled and untucked that gives his slim and runty frame a ragged look that got nothing to do with the quality of his clothes.
While I suspect malnutrition makes him look younger than his years, I revise my guess from 13-14 to 16-17 when I see his cold, dead eyes watching me warily take him in from underneath the cap of his big, brown, ridge top hat. One that looks about two sizes too big like it belonged to his daddy, as the cheap, thin leather be creased and cracked in all sorts of places. Bird hide would be my guess, and that’s the clue that clinches it, because even with how cheap Ornitheros hide leather be, not many folks care to use it for clothing around these parts or up in the Emerald Plains, as we got much better options for not much more money.
The folks living in the Coral Desert though? They don’t got the same needs or options. Thing is, this kid ain’t someone I seen in Pleasant Dunes, so I react accordingly. Casually opening up my duster with my left hand, I rest it on my hip close to my Shortsword. Not right on the grip, but close enough to quickdraw if need be, a seemingly casual movement that makes the kid freeze in place. Same goes for Carl, Vicente, and the other guards, though the women only react to their menfolk reacting. The tension ramps up as I point at the kid with eyes narrowed, belatedly noting how I’m pointing with a finger gun, as opposed to just an index finger like I thought I Scripted. Must’ve sent the wrong Invocation then, as all their names do be a touch too similar.
That ain’t important though. The important thing is I remember where I seen the kid before. “You a scav,” I say, and the kid gets real nervous to hear it, but credit where credit is due, he keeps his hands well away from the janky pistol on his hip without going full arms up in surrender. “I seen you in Gunin’s crew, poaching the Abby I done killed on my way up to Pleasant Dunes. Big batch of Bugbears who I done in because they was guarding the Hobgobbo Illusionist. What was your little group called again?” Names I could care less about, but faces, I never forget. Well, I forgot little Dick’s, but in my defense, I only ever saw him the once and didn’t care much for him. This kid though? I spent a good five minutes committing his face and the face of all his friends to memory so I’d know who to claim my pound of flesh from.
The kid goes white as a fresh washed sheet, then squares up and gives me a good glare. “The Khaganate are no more,” he says, with a faint, Russian accent to his girlish voice and a sense of stoic melancholy. “Without Gunin to lead, they argue and fight, so I leave.” Gesturing at Carl and the rest, he says, “I follow Rangers to Meadowbrook, then come here when I hear you have houses for sale.”
“What for?” I ask, with a little tilt of my head and hard stare. “You come to pay me back? Doubt it. So what? Already owe me plenty for poaching my kills, and now you come here expecting a house too?”
The kid shrugs ever so slightly. “In for penny, in for pound,” he replies, sounding cool as a cucumber despite his growing panic. “Owe little, owe more, what difference?”
Kid’s got a pair of brass balls on him, and I can’t say I hate it. Course, he would’ve been better off if Aunty Ray didn’t step in between us, because that gets my hackles right back up again. Even Tina steps in to put a hand on his shoulder, which is bad because now I’m constrained in my actions while the kid can gun me and my loved one’s down as he pleases.
Neither woman clues in to it, or if they do, they don’t care because they trust the kid. “Don’t be so hard on Sasha,” Aunty Ray says, glaring at me until I let my duster drop back over my guns. The kid don’t shy away from Tina, and even leans into her touch, and she slips her arm around his shoulder and pulls him in for a hug. In an innocent and above-board sort of way, as he’s clearly terrified despite his defiant demeanour, but it still annoys me to see it.
Doubly so when Aunty Ray retreats to also put her arm around his shoulder and sing his praises. “He was the first one to show up you know?” Aunty Ray continues, while I struggle with my lizard brain and the Mimic or Mimics telling it I need to fight off this intruder who’s trying to poach from me once again. “About three days before the others, but he left well before they did. Made it all the way here on foot by his lonesome, at the tender age of sixteen no less. Brave one he is, and smart too. Been helping out around the quay, not just with movin’ folks in, but fixin’ stoves, pumps, and dynamos that weren’t workin’ no more after so many months without use, on top of a bunch of handywork that needed doin’. He’s all self taught, but he spends most his nights poring over your books in the library. With a bit of trainin’ and experience, why I bet he’d be a real help with all the projects you get up to.”
I can already see what Aunty Ray is trying to do, as she’s had plenty of time to learn all about Sasha, and done vetted him to her own standards. Problem is, she’s one to see the best in folks, while who knows what the kid was up to in a crew like Gunin’s. Can’t imagine the Scav leader took the kid under his wing out of the kindness of his black heart, so I ain’t all that pleased to see Sasha all cozied up with Aunty Ray for more reasons than one. Though he might look like a nervous, undernourished kid who don’t got no clue what’s what, I can see he got that look about him. The look of a survivor, someone who’ll fight, steal, and yeah, even kill to get ahead, and I don’t know if I care much for having a scav like that for a neighbour in my quay.
“Kid’s been real useful,” Carl says, chiming in even though he knows this ain’t his place to butt in, but he owns it by adding, “More useful than the rest of us, truth be told. Most of the tech around is too old for the old world or too new for the Frontier, so the rest of us can’t make heads or tails of it. We’ve been cooking with wood stoves for the most part, while looking for work up in Mount Rimepeak, but it ain’t easy.”
“Yeah,” I say, because I heard a few things. “Ain’t no one offerin’ gainful employment, just day to day, right? So if you there when they need ye, they’ll hire you on for a trip to the docks, then pay you out once you here and leave you to find your own way back.” Hopefully under gainful employment, else it’s a full day’s trek home with no one paying for it.
“Ain’t that the truth?” Carl replies, stopping himself just short of spitting off to the side before doffing his hat at Aunty Ray in silent apology. “The kid though? Smart as a whip. Helped him take apart a dynamo that wasn’t working and watched him puzzle through the issue piece by piece before getting it working and putting it all back together again.”
Which ain’t as reassuring as Carl makes it sound, because now I gotta go take a look at the dynamo to make sure it won’t blow up. Or short circuit, overheat, surge, or any number of other things that could go wrong when an amateur gets their hands on it. Seeing the doubt in my expression, Carl goes quiet, but Sasha ain’t ready to give up the goat. “My papa was Craftsman,” he says, sounding downright catty as if I’m supposed to be impressed. “He teach me many things, but he no have to teach how to know to align slipped belt in dynamo.”
“…Fair enough.” With a little help from Aunty Ray’s expressive stares, I manage to piece together exactly why Carl stepped up to bat for a former scav like Sasha. Not because the kid is actually smart and useful. No, it’s on account of the whole ‘give a house’ comment. Should’ve kept my mouth shut, because even though it was directed at Sasha, I can’t imagine Carl, Vincente, and the rest of them got a whole lot of cash saved up either. Not with how Vanguard National operated, selling them townies everything they’d need to survive at prices Ronald Jackson got to dictate. Meaning he paid them, then charged them back for daily necessities like food, water, clothes, and whatnot. Hardly fair practice, but that’s how it be out here on the Frontier when unscrupulous types get to running things however they please.
Meaning that if you get right down to brass tacks, there’s a good chance Sasha’s net worth is higher than Carl’s seeing how the kid owns a handgun. Not some junky piece of garbage picked off a corpse either, as what I can see has got the functional, bare-bones look of a decently hand-crafted weapon that’s been well cared for. The fact that these folks came all this way without any money in their pockets speaks volumes to how desperate they be, and seeing how I am at least partially responsible for putting them in said dire straits, I can’t help but feel obligated to help them out.
“Fine,” I say with a sigh, doing what I can to think of the best way to remove my foot from my mouth. “The kid can stay. The rest of you are a given of course. You can have the house you’ve picked, or find a new one you like more, though it ain’t one price fits all. We’ll talk actual numbers some other time, as I don’t actually have any, but just know this ain’t no charity here. I expect fair value in return for those houses, so you’ll have to talk to my money guy when he gets a chance to come out and assess y’all for loans.”
Holding up a hand to forestall all their thanks, I give them all a good, hard look. Not in the testing sort of way, like I’d look at a potential threat. More a serious sort of look, so they listen to what I’m about to say next and know I mean every word. “That said, it ain’t all sunshine and rainbows up here.” Waving the hand I done lost in their town and the prosthetic I built to replace it, I say, “Y’all know firsthand how I live, and have probably heard all sorts of stories about what I been up to since. Motivations aside, the core of those stories are probably true, as I do tend to find more than my fair share of trouble. Trouble that might well find its way back home to me here in my daddy’s quay.”
Pausing for effect, I give them all another round of looks and almost smile to see that not a single face in the crowd cares to look away. Hard people these are, and they’ll need that if they want to be neighbours with me, because I doubt the faint-hearted would ever make it. “Also, these houses were absolutely built by a bunch of Cultists, though truth be told, they never done wrong by me. They also told me they ain’t never killed no one who didn’t deserve it, which is more than I can say, so who am I to judge?”
That don’t get the laughs I was hoping for, only matching glares from Tina and Aunty Ray, but I ignore the both of them to continue. “So yeah. Long story short, I got issues with the mob, am persona non grata when it comes to New Hope, got a history with Cultists who I don’t abhor, and I’ve probably upset a fair few folks with this last trip out, so there could be trouble on the horizon. Trouble I’ll do my best to keep y’all out of, but I can’t control what others might do to the people around me. If you still care to stay, then I’ll be happy to have you here, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
No one says anything in the silence that follows, not until Vicente lets out an exaggerated laugh. “Any fool loco enough to take you on is a fool that won’t live long,” he says, and the others all laugh along to hear it. They a different breed, these settlers from the Coral Desert, as them lands there was chock full of cutthroats and killers all vying for supremacy in those lawless lands. Took a fair few years and a whole lot of fighting, but in the end, Ronald Jackson was the one who came out on top in their neck of the woods. Then I came along and burned down everything he’d built up in the course of a single night, so they know I can handle my business.
More importantly, they ain’t scared to live alongside me, because for them, the wild Frontier ain’t a distant memory. It’s just the world they live in, and they’ve learned long ago that they’re better off with the devil they know.
The Yellow Devil that is, though I ain’t feeling all that Devilish standing around and listening to Carl, Vicente, and the rest of them all thank me like I done something for them, when in truth, I ain’t done shit. Makes me feel right proper bad it does, especially seeing them struggle to justify how they’ll pay me back with their money-making ideas. Vicente wants to open up some type of Mexican eatery with one of the other guards whose wife is also Mexican, and I’m looking forward to that. One of the guards, Johann, knows a fair bit of metalwork and wants to take up shop at the blacksmith’s forge, which ain’t all that but has got everything you might need to make minor metalwork repairs. Of which ships will have plenty of, and require all sorts of materials like pitch, tar, caulking, and planks, meaning he plans to stock up on plenty and sell high to any ships that might need it right quick.
As for Carl? He holds off of saying anything until the rest are out of earshot, as he leans in to whisper, “Hear tell you lookin’ to go Independent soon. I hear right?” I nod, and he visibly brightens to see it, only to nervously glance at Aunty Ray before adding, “Well, then I think we got ourselves a big opportunity here. I seen them dockhands come off their ships and grumble about all manner of things, like how there ain’t no place to sleep, eat, or do nothing besides stare at the night’s sky. Men like that work hard and live hard, meaning that when they see a chance to spend, they tend to play it loose and fast with their hard-earned cash. Especially when the monies they just been paid is burning a hole in their pockets, so if we provide an opportunity for them to spend that money and keep them entertained for the night, then we can rake it in hand over fist.”
I can see why he didn’t want Aunty Ray overhearing this, but I ain’t about to sell Carl out like that, so I keep my voice low in reply. “Not for nothin’, as you right about it being a prime business opportunity, but I dunno. I uh… I don’t feel comfortable with it.”
Carl frowns. “Why not? It’s honest, legal fun, and won’t no one be twisting anyone’s arm to come spend.”
“I know,” I say, trying to think of the best way to word it. “And I got nothing against any ladies looking to earn a buck that way. I just… I don’t feel comfortable earning money off of their backs like that, you know?”
Carl straightens up and blinks a fair few times, before breaking out in a grin. “Howie,” he says, holding back a laugh. “I was talking about opening a casino.” As opposed to a brothel, which is where my mind went, and if he didn’t know that already, he does now seeing how my cheeks giving off enough heat to fry an egg. “We don’t got the talent for earning money on our backs,” he says, clapping me on the good shoulder and winking as he leans in and says, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell a soul. Might not look it, but I still remember what it’s like to be young.”
He gives me a big grin before running off with his lovely Euro gal back to the house he done picked out, with a promise to have me over for dinner at some point. One I’m sure Carl intends to make good on, but I can’t imagine he’s all that flush with cash to be buying food from New Hope. Not him or any of the others who’ve moved in, but I hold my tongue until we’re back in the privacy of the big house which I don’t think will ever feel like home.
Between the walk and the long talk out front, I’m puffing and wheezing by the time I finally make it inside with so much help I don’t even gotta use my cane. Soon as I catch my breath while unlacing my boots, I ask, “How they been gettin’ by with food?”
Aunty Ray makes a face of commiseration, as she remembers them early years well. “Lent them a few old rifles to hunt with and horses to carry them before pointing them north to where there be plenty of bramble elk.” And away from Carter’s compound where there be folks shifting into animals a hungry hunter might shoot at. “Carl took them out and brung back two big bucks alongside some smaller game, so between that and some fish from the lake plus what they can forage in the forest, they been keeping their bellies full enough.” I don’t say nothing, just give her a look like I’m waiting for her to continue, and she scrunches up her nose like I done stared her down. “And yeah, I been bakin’ and cookin’ a little more than I need and sharin’ with the rest of them, but they don’t take much. Won’t in fact, not unless I insist, as they all down on their luck, but they’re a proud bunch. Hard too, as they have to be to survive all up in them lawless coral sands.”
Don’t I know it. That said, I do feel like I ought to help them out, like say by getting them their own rifles to start with. The ones I got here are all antiques pretty much, and not even good ones as my daddy wasn’t big on rifles. He liked his carbine same as me, which reminds me of how I gotta buy myself a new one, something in a bigger caliber alongside a new sidearm for my every day carry. Should pick up something that Carl and them can use for more than just hunting, as I wasn’t exaggerating about my problems following me back home. Not only have I all but declared war on the Catteneos, I’ve probably pissed off the Serbians something fierce what with how I strong-armed them for an extra 5 grand. A good thing too, because for some reason, I decided to come clean with the Askefjords about the initial 10 grand I was getting paid, as I felt they were owed half seeing how they saved my ass in the end. This somehow led to me promising to invest the whole kitten kaboodle into their research on Geomantic Lattices, making us partners on the project with a 50-50 split right down the middle.
Which don’t feel fair for them, as they be the ones doing all the work. All I done was record the book and hand it over to them. At best, that’s a one-time fee sort of deal, but Gunnar insisted we be equal partners in this. Probably because he’s counting on me to hold off the Federal Government once they catch wind of things, as well as every other Government who might well want a piece of the pie. Means I gotta up my security around these parts, hence my generosity regarding Aetherarms for Carl and the rest. With a little luck, I might even convince one of them to take on the role of Sheriff, because you can bet your bottom dollar I don’t want the job. Or Mayor for that matter, as I’m much more of a live and let live sorta fella who don’t want no trouble. Either way, between food, expenses, and defenses, that last 5 grand will go right quick, though I should be getting more once they all secure loans from Levi to buy the houses they living in.
That said, now that I’m back, Aunty Ray won’t let me do nothing besides kick up my feet in my favourite chair, so that’s exactly what I do. Chrissy being Chrissy snuggles up beside me, as these last few weeks have been hard on her and she’s happy to finally be safe and sound. As for Tina, she sees it and knows she ought to help Aunty Ray with dinner, but I can’t help but wave her over to join us. Tina is my sorta-sister after all, and I’ve missed her plenty. Yeah, I gotta put up boundaries as she don’t understand romance same as Chrissy, but that don’t mean we can’t sit on a recliner together and talk about what we been up to these last few weeks apart. Her bright smile is more than enough to make up for the awkward feelings I bury deep inside, and I can’t help but smile as I slip my arms around my sorta-sisters and watch as Chrissy explains how she saved my life in Arcane Sign Language while the kiccaws all pile in on our laps for a snuggle.
Yeah. If home is where the heart is, then this right here is home. Not the big house, not this chair, but here, with Chrissy, Tina, and Aunty Ray, because they got the lion’s share of what’s left of my heart, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
