Turns out working with diplomats was a lot like herding cats, but this sort of thing was Rachel’s specialty.
Nineteen years of putting out social fires in New Hope had prepared her well, but the difference was that normal people were cooperative about solving issues. The diplomats here in New Sonora though? They had themselves a problem, but weren’t none too fussed about solving it, and she was fast growing frustrated with their lack of interest. Being an Independent party without any real backing, none of the other nations took any of her efforts seriously as she strove to get the lay of the land and see where everyone stood. Requests for lunch, coffee, or even a brief word went unanswered by some and misinterpreted by others, many of whom were men of power who didn’t know how to take no for an answer.
Hardly surprising considering what she knew about politics and politicians in general, but it all made her yearn for simpler times. Back when New Hope was little more than a campsite and an idea in Uncle Teddy’s mind, there’d been one such settler who thought he could call the shots just because his daddy was a senator in the old world. Like that mattered here on the Frontier, so far away from his daddy’s influence, but he seemed to believe it. So did a fair few others for some unfathomable reason, like they thought he’d walk into the forest and find a phone booth he could use to dial up his daddy in the old world and get the army, national guard, or FBI here to help in a jiffy.
Long story short, the senator’s son thought he could make all sorts of unreasonable demands and the Rangers would have no choice but to move Heaven and Earth to see it through. Wasn’t enough to have warm shelter and sturdy walls; he expected everyone to have their own private rooms with hardwood floors and glass windows to say nothing of the expectations he had for food, drink, and recreation. Was like he thought they were out here for a camping trip as opposed to settling the Abby infested Frontier. Complained endlessly about every aspect of camp in those early days, and while he wasn’t exactly wrong about the low quality of life, it wasn’t like anyone else liked it all that much either.
Well… maybe Ming, as it turned out he wasn’t all that comfortable with creature comforts. Lived life like an ascetic he did, and preferred it that way as he donated almost all his money to whatever cause caught his eye. His only indulgence was his sweet tooth, and bringing bits and bobs back for the kids just so he could see their smiles. He needn’t have bothered though, because Howie, Tina, and Chrissy were always happy to see him come home, especially Howie who kept sneaking off to stand on the walls late at night in hopes of catching a glimpse of his daddy riding in.
As for the senator’s son, her Raleigh sorted him out with a little help from Ming, Tim, and little Eddie. Dragged the witless waste out on a hunting trip and showed him what they was up against in the Divide so he’d be a little more understanding about why they couldn’t expand the walls and ramp up production just yet. Needed to make sure they had bodies and weapons enough to defend what they had, and in those early days, they were short on both, with Spellslingers burning the candles at both ends and pushing themselves to their limits in body, mind, and spirit to keep Abby off their backs. The second them Proggies got a taste of human flesh, they was hooked right proper and fiending for more, but Uncle Teddy and his ragtag band of multi-national defenders did such a stellar job of keeping Abby away from their campsite, the senator’s son and all his ilk didn’t know how good they had it.
The trip into the Divide sorted him out though, and he even turned a new leaf to become a contributing member of their group. Eventually bought the farm in the first concentrated attack on New Hope though, when a group of Swarmlings surged up and over their walls to get into the compound proper. From what she remembered of the eulogy, he was leading a group of farmers to the shelter when them Swarmlings showed up, so he ran out to distract them while the rest got safe. A Senator’s Son who went out a hero, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, but unlike the , he didn’t just help himself. Made Rachel feel right proper terrible for forgetting his name, but his was just one of countless such stories she’d heard over the years, and they were all starting to bleed together.
A shame these diplomats in New Sonora hadn’t learned the same lessons, as they were all more concerned with lines on a map as opposed to the lives of the people they were supposed to represent. They could all do with a trip into the Badlands to see the Divide proper, because words, pictures, and even videos didn’t do the place justice. Most envisioned the picturesque Grand Canyon in Arizona, but the Divide was so much worse. Even at high noon, the bottom of the Divide was shrouded in darkness, while a faint chorus of skittering legs sounded out at all hours of the day and night as newborn Abby marched through their network of underground tunnels to their new posts in the Badlands while Droves and Beetles brought back processed biomass Goop so their Proggies could get started on another batch.
This was the real struggle of the Frontier, the war against Abby. Them Gobbos, Ferals, and Soulless wouldn’t care about no lines on a map when they came a calling for biomass, and after nineteen years spent watching the conflict unfold, Rachel could confidently state that humans were losing ground here on the Eastern Front, and weren’t really gaining ground anywhere else.
Made it all the more frustrating to hear about raiders and outlaws plaguing the Federation’s efforts to build three new settlements, Mafioso families taking control of Rimepeak and squeezing the people and the government for every last cent, or corporations hoarding secret processes that could benefit the Frontier as a whole just to make a few more dollars than the competition. Wasn’t none of this happening in the early years, not under Uncle Teddy’s watch. Everyone who showed up was protected, but also expected to contribute, and folks were more than happy to do what they could when they saw how hard Uncle Teddy worked to keep them all safe.
Him and his people, of which there were too many contributions to list. Ming set the standard though, that much was sure, showing up out of the blue with a baby in his arms on the morning of New Year’s Eve, then joining them in New Hop to share his wealth of knowledge about brick firing, glass-blowing, paper making, Metamagic Etching, and more. Armand Kalthoff took that last bit and turned it into a thriving gunsmithing business that made him wealthy as sin despite his efforts to give so much of his wealth and weapons away, while Lee Bernier set to work writing down every scrap of knowledge he had so it could be shared and passed on to others in need.
A practice his son Danny continued on after his death, which made Rachel all the sadder to see Ming’s son not following in his daddy’s footsteps.
Fact is, these days it seemed like Howie was doing everything he could to be the opposite of his daddy. Where Ming was quiet and softspoken, Howie was loud and opinionated like a red-blooded American. You’d never meet a man more generous and humble than Ming, whereas Howie was pretty tightfisted when it came to spending on anything besides guns, gear, and gifts for his loved ones. He also inherited her Raleigh’s love for attention, and while Howie was never one to brag, he did love to talk about his favourite subject, namely himself. Then there was his hair trigger of temper, while Ming was a man who’d forgive you for slapping him across the face so long as you wasn’t hurting anyone else.
Howie got that temper from his mother, a fact Ming would always share with a smile, and even after knowing him for the better part of a decade, that was the only thing Rachel had ever heard him say about his beloved Lina. He was quick to share anything and everything she’d done, but never anything about who she was or what she was like. Rachel was getting a pretty good picture of the woman though, as Howie didn’t even look all that much like his daddy, with more sharp, defined features and alongside flawless skin that barely tanned despite all his time out in the sun. Add in his bright eyes, piercing gaze, and warm, genuine smiles and it all came together to form a handsome young man who was already breaking hearts without even realizing it.
Course, Rachel knew early on that he’d be a heartthrob from the very start, as there was never a cuter baby than Howie. Tina and Chrissy were gorgeous and angelic as could be, but from the moment he could crawl, Howie was winning hearts with his big smiles and curious nature. Those days were long behind him though, as were his big smiles it seemed, and her heart broke to see his new normal being dark scowls and suspicious glares. Was only when they was all alone and secure that he let his guard down, but even then, his smiles stayed muted and subtle, though he had more of them for Rachel and Tina ever since coming back from the Deadlands. Almost dying will do that to a man, make him remember what matters most to him, and scared as Rachel had been, she was just happy spend time with her baby boy again.
The last two months were some of the best in recent memory, as she couldn’t remember when the last time they’d spent so many consecutive weeks together as a family. Probably before he turned fourteen and set out into the world by his lonesome, as from there on out, Rachel had to make do with a couple weeks here and a couple more there while Howie spent most his time on the road in emulation of his daddy.
She should’ve stopped him. Put her foot down and told him in no uncertain terms that he was too young to be riding solo. Could’ve claimed he was needed at home to help her around town, or insisted he stay in school with the other kids for a semblance of normality. Should’ve talked Uncle Teddy into making more time for Howie, maybe even start up a boot camp just for him if that’s what it took. Problem was, fourteen years of living in New Hope had given her the illusion that things had gotten better out there. Even though Ming sometimes shared his most harrowing burdens with her while drinking out on the porch, she should’ve known he’d kept so much more from her because he wasn’t one to impose.
Silly that. To think he could ever impose on Rachel, Uncle Teddy, or anyone else who saw him as family. That’s just who Ming was though. Self-reliant to a fault, and in this, he was no different from Howie. Fact is, Howie was so much worse, as unlike his daddy, he never shared a word about how bad he had it out there, so it took Rachel a few years to cotton on to the fact that her Howie had it even worse than his daddy ever did. Wasn’t no one out there taking a kid seriously despite coming back time and time again with enough Aberrtin to put most mercenary groups to shame, and that lack of respect and dignity had shaped her sweet baby boy into the man he was today.
Angry. Mistrustful. Resentful. And bitter. So very bitter, always quick to see the worst in everyone because that’s what he’d seen out there. The worst that humanity had to offer, but he always put on a happy face when he was home, so Rachel didn’t notice how bad things had gotten until last year when he came home short a hand.
He never talked about it. How two Rangers ‘escorted’ him in for a talk with those thugs, who proceeded to then batter and blackmail him into taking on a debt that wasn’t his to take. How they tried to talk her boy into switching sides to work for a drug dealer and explosives manufacturer, then told him they’d ruin his reputation with a recording of him talking about how a man drugged him while he was out on the highway and died trying to take advantage. That’s why Howie went along with it. Wasn’t the threats that made him follow Wayne down into that biker den. He went there out of shame, because he didn’t want anyone knowing he’d make a mistake, trusted the wrong people and almost paid dearly for it.
Because he’d been taught better than that. That’s how he saw it, that a mistake wasn’t a mistake, but a failing on his part, a sign he wasn’t the man he so desperately wanted to be. The Firstborn of the Frontier, the infallible, indefatigable, Abby killing, outlaw hunting hotshot who’d lead the next generation to prosperity.
When truth was, he was just a boy, a boy who’d paid dearly for trusting the wrong sorts and was now going too far in the other direction.
Rachel had seen the recording he’d made with his bull’s head medallion, heard what was on the crystal Ronald Jackson threatened him with, and if Howie hadn’t burned that company to the ground, Rachel would’ve gone and done it for him. Would have called in every marker she was owed and brought a mob down on Pleasant Dunes for what they done to her boy, and called it Frontier Justice served. Problem was, Howie had done all that by his lonesome, but it’d brought him no measure of relief, not when life kept hammering away at him without giving him any room to breathe. Losing Josie and their baby had crushed what little hope he still had left, and his actions after the fact had set him against Uncle Teddy for good. Wasn’t no reconciling the fact that Howie had terrorized Brightpick and murdered a whole slew of mafiosos in a bloody rampage, to say nothing of the evidence of torture and undeniable fact that he’d worked with Nahuatl Cultists to do so.
Rachel was under no illusions of who her boy was, but that didn’t change nothing about how much she loved him. She wished he’d done otherwise, been a bigger man who rose above his hatred and carried out justice good and proper as the way it should’ve been done, but she couldn’t blame him for giving in to rage and hatred after all he’d been through. She still remembered how he looked at Josie’s funeral, so lost and dazed like he wasn’t even sure where he was because he it was easier to feel nothing than to embrace the pain and heartache.
She’d asked him how he was doing, expecting him to muster up a fake little smile and say he was doing fine, only for him to tell her all about how he’d asked Josie to marry him because they thought they had a baby on the way, how scared she was and how much he loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, only for the Frontier to take all that happiness away.
In light of all that? Yeah, Rachel understood why he’d done what he did, and didn’t begrudge him for it. She knew better men who’d done worse things, so the fact that he kept collateral damage as low as he did meant he kept a modicum of control.
The trip up to the mesa hadn’t helped none either. When those Qin showed up, Rachel thought it’d be a good chance for Howie to connect with his roots, because even if the Republic was a bit of a political boogeyman these days, that didn’t mean the Qin were all bad people. Just as she convinced him to trust Jinfeng and in turn the rest of his people however, they were all double-crossed by some politico’s son who wanted to use the Firstborn as a stepping stone. Then she got to see firsthand how her boy handled his business, and she didn’t see the cold-blooded killer the papers made him out to be. Instead, she saw the same boy she’d raised, the one who cried when he shot his first bunny and didn’t have the heart to skin it, only now that boy had grown into a man who still didn’t relish in the bloodshed, but embraced it as a necessity.
The Frontier had forged him into a hard man, but Howie was learning all the wrong lessons from it. Ronald Jackson taught him not to give trust so freely. The Puglianos taught him to never show weakness. The Qin taught him that mercy was rarely rewarded. And now he leaned hard into those lessons to become the man he was today. Quick to anger and always ready with a threat, one he was willing to act on because you don’t make idle threats out here. Like with that guard who stopped by to make eyes at Rachel while she was cooking dinner. Time was, Howie would’ve given the man a cold smile and a hard glare then talked his ear off without giving him any chance to bother Rachel none.
These days though? Howie didn’t waste no time going straight for the jugular. Told that guard to get gone without so much as a polite nod, then made ready to gun him down dead if he didn’t. Even if Rachel didn’t care much for the man, that didn’t mean Howie could stomp all over his dignity like that. Back in the old world, you might get into a fistfight over something like that, but here on the Frontier, tempers were shorter and morals looser, as it was a whole lot easier to get away with murder when most lawmen wanted nothing to do with anything that happened outside their town walls. Then there was how quick he was to throw out a Fireball just to still some wagging tongues two days later. That wasn’t called for either, because Ming taught him to never make threats he wasn’t willing to follow up on, which meant Howie was more than ready to kill every last prisoner there, and probably a few guards if they tried to stop him.
Not because he wanted them dead mind you. No, Rachel knew her boy better than that. He was a cold, clinical, and pragmatic sort when it came to killing. He’d do whatever he felt needed to be done, whether it be killing a man clean or making him suffer because he deserved it, but he didn’t take no pleasure in the act. That much was clear from what she’d seen of his work in the Badlands, as he didn’t revel in the act itself or treat it like sport. Didn’t see it as his duty either, or take any pride in his body count, and if left alone, he’d be more than happy to live and let live with anyone and everyone who crossed his path.
So why did he get into so many scraps? Partially because he went out looking for trouble more often than not, but also because folks weren’t giving him the respect he deserved. They heard all about the big, bad Firstborn, but they still stopped by to test him all the same. The guard who showed up to make eyes at Rachel? He’d been put up to the task by his buddies who followed along to watch the show, while those prisoners at the other build site were egged on by their guards and the quartermaster who put Howie’s camp right next to them while knowing good and well what would happen. Wouldn’t none of that have played out that way if her Raleigh or Ming were here, and if Edward Elton or Tim Hayes rode into camp with two dozen gorgeous women at their back, you could bet your bottom dollar that not a single man there would’ve dared risk so much as a glance at them girls.
Howie though? Folks still saw him as a kid, which is why they kept testing him like they did. Just look at the shooter who came after him here in New Sonora. If it really was about his ties to the Nahuatl Faith, then why go after Howie when there were plenty of cartels openly supported by them instead? Because they saw him as an easy target, someone they could beat if they were just a little smarter about it, while the cartels were a behemoth no one man could ever bring down, to say nothing of how the cartels were heavy handed in dealing bloody retribution.
Long story short, Howie’s problem was a lack of respect, because even though he was a man alone with no country or organization behind him, he was still the most dangerous young man in all these lands and a force to be reckoned with. A proven force at that, having taken out Vanguard National and the Puglianos both, but folks still didn’t put any respect on his name.
Which in turn made Howie work that much harder to scare his foes and keep them from making a move against him. Problem is, throwing Fireballs willy nilly wasn’t the way to go about it, as it made him look temperamental and childish, because in the end, that’s what it was. A temper tantrum from a kid who’d just about had enough, but didn’t want to bloody his hands again. He’d kill if he had to, find whatever excuses he needed to justify the act, but at the end of the day, he didn’t much care for it. It was a job, plain and simple, something that needed doing no different from chopping firewood or doing up his laces, because someone had to take out the garbage and it might as well be him. That’s life, plain and simple, or at least life for the Firstborn out here on the Frontier.
That’s what most folks didn’t understand. Yeah, Howie was a product of his circumstances, the first of a new generation on a new world steeped in conflict and bloodshed, but he was far from the worst. No, that’d be the types like the wannabe mafioso who showed up out of nowhere and killed Josie in the streets because she was standing in the way, or the ones who’d cheered and laughed on video when that big fella Franky lopped Howie’s hand clean off. The kids who grew up in places far worse than New Hope, such as the scav camps poor Sasha came from which scared her so much she didn’t dare reveal herself as a girl for fear of being marked as a victim. That’s how children were, a reflection of the world around them, and when those raised in the ugliest parts of the Frontier came of age, Rachel knew good and well the world would finally see Howie for the exemplary man that he was.
It’d be too little, too late however, as here and now, they still saw him as a kid who didn’t have no place at the big boy’s table even though he’d earned one through blood, sweat, and tears. He was still her sweet baby boy and always would be, but that didn’t take away from the fact that he was a man grown. Not a perfect man, or even a good one like his daddy, but a man all the same, one with a record of grossly disproportionate retribution. Went back to that quote from that movie her Raleigh loved so much, the one about gangsters and prohibition in Chicago. “He brings a knife, you bring a gun. He sends one of yours to the hospital, you send one of his to the morgue. That’s the Chicago way!”
Spoken by the Irish cop with a Scottish accent in the American city, which never made no sense to Rachel. Howie took that concept and ran with though, ready to gun down anyone he even suspected might be a potential threat. If you hurt him or his loved ones though? He’d burn a whole town to the ground in order to get to you, then make sure your passing don’t go quick. That’s the man he believed he had to be to make it out here, the one he didn’t shy from when he dragged the burned and mutilated body of Franky the Phantom down the streets of Brightpick, and while Rachel didn’t much care for that sort of thing, she couldn’t rightly say Howie was wrong to do what he did. She saw what happened when he tried playing by the rules, and she was terrified he’d lose more than a hand or lover if that happened again. Sooner or later, folks would learn to stop poking the bear, but here in New Sonora, they had yet to see the Firstborn at work firsthand, so they’d have to learn that lesson for themselves unless Rachel could convince them otherwise.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
These diplomats weren’t making it easy though, and not just because they looked down on the Firstborn, and in turn Rachel who was reaching out using his name. As far as she could tell, weren’t none of the diplomats in New Sonora all that concerned about the actual raids and banditry, and more concerned about salvaging their pride because their kids were smacked around, or how they could personally benefit from these talks. Information gleaned not from the diplomats themselves, as didn’t none of them care to meet with the woman who raised the Firstborn, or as they were calling him more and more often these days, the Yellow Devil. No, Rachel got all her information from the diplomatic aides and support staff, most of whom were more open to chatting about this and that while venting about their terrible jobs to a sympathetic ear.
To hear the papers tell it, these talks had been ongoing since the first raid on the Federal build sites way back around Christmas. They were coming up on six months since they started these discussions, so when Rachel learned Howie would be joining them, she figured they’d arrive and jump right into the thick of things with folks who were working tirelessly to end the needless conflict. She was proven dead wrong when she learned that not only were talks intermittent and not currently taking place, they were still waiting on some last-minute additions who felt they deserved a seat at the table now that the Qin Republic was finally taking these talks seriously for a change.
Meant that instead of sticking to the party line that these raids had nothing to do with the Republic, they were instead stating that the raids were in fact an issue that needed to be dealt with, and were open to suggestions on how they could help. They still weren’t taking any responsibility for the attacks, even though it was all but an open secret that the Qin were behind the first few at the very least. No idea why they’d come all this way to raid Federal territory when there was a good 400 kilometres between New Sonora and the Qin territory of Fuyuan, especially when all the resources they took were more readily available in their own lands. Nor was Rachel sure why they’d changed their stance after all the under the table negotiations to get Howie here, but she didn’t like it one bit. There was something afoot, and it clearly had something to do with her boy, else they wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble to strong arm him to New Sonora.
Where he had precious few allies to call on mind you. Uncle Teddy’s reach went far, but even he couldn’t do nothing for Howie all the way out here. Not in time to matter at least, and while James was here in town, he was a Templar first and foremost, and the Church wasn’t too pleased with Howie’s ties to the Nahuatl Faith either. The Mexican government went without saying, as half were in bed with the cultists themselves, while the other half backed extremist groups like Los Caballeros del Altar Roto who took a run at Howie on his first day here. The Nipponese were also all bent out of shape over a matter of honour and sent that lovely girl Kacey to come duel him, though there was something off about the way he told it.
Whatever the reasons for their tiff, Kacey was caught in the middle of it, as she was forced to fight him to prove there wasn’t nothing going on between them. Then Howie went and won the duel as expected, only to get all heated and angry when he realized losing wasn’t enough for Kacey to reclaim her honour. No, she needed to be marked up for it, beat good and proper with a couple bruises to show off, and that infuriated Rachel’s baby boy to no end.
Because end of the day, his daddy was a bit of an old-fashioned sort who instilled the same values into Howie, that women were to be cherished and protected as the future of humanity.
Meaning if there wasn’t any sparks between Kacey and Howie before, Rachel was sure there’d be some in the future. Wasn’t a girl alive who wouldn’t swoon over being rescued by a knight in shining armour, and Howie made for a most fetching knight indeed. Besides, Kacey was a sweet girl who worked so hard to be Tina’s friend, all because she’d said something she didn’t mean while suffering from the aftereffects of a Fear spell. Not to mention the fact that Howie might be a chivalrous sort, but wasn’t so chivalrous as to start a brawl for any old gal, so there had to be something there. That said, Rachel wasn’t expecting much of it in the short term, as Kacey was far too mousey and Howie much too broken up over Josie for anything to happen any time soon.
In a just world, this would be the extent of Rachel’s worries when it came to Howie, whether or not his love life would pick up again after suffering such a loss. It was one thing to talk about remaining faithful to your dearly departed spouse, and another altogether to go through with it. Much as Rachel still loved her Raleigh and didn’t much care for anyone else, the idea of finding love again was tantalizing as could be. Problem was, there wasn’t a man alive who could hold a candle to her Raleigh, and sweet as the sentiment might be, she wouldn’t wish this sort of life on anybody, especially not Howie.
A talk for another time however, as the subject was much too raw to handle even more than a decade after the fact. Instead, Rachel devoted her efforts to trying to keep Howie alive by learning anything and everything she could about the peace talks to come, though most seemed more concerned about the big dinner party the Mexican Governor was throwing tonight to welcome all the diplomats, many of whom had been in New Sonora for some months now.
Which just went to show how silly diplomacy really was, especially since there were only three players that really mattered. So long as the Feds, the Mexicans, and the Republic could come to an agreement, then everyone else involved would have no choice but to fall in line.
What that line might be, Rachel still had no clue, because it seemed like even the diplomats themselves weren’t entirely certain. They’d find out soon enough she supposed, so when it came time to get ready for the dinner party, she made her way back to the hotel without having accomplished much of anything at all. Nothing besides drag Mr. Tillman along with her all the livelong day, as well as his mercenaries’ turned bodyguards who clearly weren’t simple mercenaries considering how professional and well trained they all were, but Rachel wasn’t one to pry. She did stop to buy two skins of horchata, if only to keep Howie from ordering more from room service, as the hotel staff just ran out to buy from these same vendors before transferring the contents to a pitcher and bringing it up to his room for a hefty surcharge.
A worrying change to be sure, as Howie seemed all too happy to spend so long as it wasn’t his dime, even if that wasn’t entirely true. Sure, the hotel room wasn’t in his name and everything would be billed back to the Feds, but you could bet your bottom dollar that the bean counters would go over every receipt and charge him for monies owed. Rachel warned him as much, but he just shrugged and said his wages would cover it like that wasn’t his money to begin with.
Now granted, Howie’s perspective of money had always been skewed. Not just because he always had enough to spend, but also because of how inflation worked on the Frontier without a federal reserve to really stabilize it. In his eyes, cash money wasn’t worth the paper it was printed on, and best spent before inflation ate away at its value, so he wasn’t exactly wrong there. Problem was, money was still good for spending, and now that he had more than he could spend, he wasn’t even trying to be spendthrift about it because he considered black in his ledger as an unsightly mark. Was doing all that he could to zero it out, so why not spend what wasn’t even his yet on food and drink instead?
A good thing he had yet to take up drinking, smoking, or any other bad habits a man can get into. Was starting to pick up a few to be sure, but they were harmless for the most part, as a bit of cards with the boys wasn’t gonna ruin him none. As she knocked on his door and let herself in, she learned he’d picked up another vice while she was out, namely a love for nice clothes as he stood there in front of a full-length, three panel mirror that hadn’t been there this morning, no doubt brought over by the man making last minute alterations to his newly tailored suit. “Hiya Aunty Ray,” he said, turning about to greet her with a grin only for the tailor to scowl and bark something harsh. Looking all abashed, he stood stock still and met her eyes in the mirror before continuing, “Thanks for the horchata. There are pitchers and glasses on the table, so why don’t you pour yourself a drink, take a load off, and tell me all about your day?”
Yeah, Howie was gonna make some girl real happy someday, and Rachel couldn’t help but beam to see him standing there looking all fancy and handsome as can be. After making sure the drinks were safe with a Detect Poison Ritual, she did as he said and pulled up a seat so she could admire how he’d filled out from multiple angles. “Forget about my day,” she said, because she sure wanted to. “I see you went with the western-cut suit jacket. Even all fancied up, you just gotta look the part of a cowboy, don’t you?”
To be fair, it was a right lovely cowboy jacket, one made from a gorgeous navy-blue fabric that accentuated his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Grinning from ear to ear, Howie gave a ghost of a shrug and said, “Got more to do with comfort than style. At least with the western cut, I can unbutton my collar and breathe a bit without lookin’ like a slob.”
That wasn’t all. The bottom of the jacket had deep vents in the back that would let him ride if need be, and the subtle embroidery all along the jacket was done in a dark thread that wouldn’t give him away in night if he had to do some sneaking. Always prepping for the worst-case scenario, and she prayed it would not come to pass. “You gonna wear that shirt?” she asked, and she could tell by his wince he knew she was about to make some changes. “A cream cotton would go better with the color, and a higher collar to boot. Maybe something with French cuffs to show off your new cufflinks, and you brought a bolo tie to wear, right? The nice one with the silver bull medallion?”
“That I did,” Howie replied, nodding at the table where he had all his accessories laid out, including his Magus pins and fancy watch. No buttons for his vest though, so Rachel went in for another look and asked if the tailor had anything in a brocade or patterned silk that would fit Howie, preferably something with silver or ivory buttons. The shirt, jacket, and trousers could stay function over form, but the vest was where the glitz and glamour lived, so even if he still looked the part of cowboy, he’d at least look like a successful one who was only working for love of the game.
Which was technically true. Howie had earned enough to retire if he really wanted, but he wasn’t built for the quiet life. He was a fighter through and through, and for the last little while, he’d been a fighter without a cause. Not so anymore, because now he had his daddy’s quay to fight for, and he’d fight all the harder because of it. She only hoped he wouldn’t pay dearly because of it, as he was up against some real heavy hitters this time around. No man could go toe to toe with the Feds and come out unscathed, but if ever there were a man to try, that’d be Howie to be sure.
Luckily for them all, the fussy tailor named Tomás had everything she wanted, including a gorgeous vest in the same shade of navy blue as Howie’s jacket to show that he was a man of taste who’d been planning on convincing Howie to go with the right choice soon enough. All sized to match too, or easily altered with a minor bit of work, and priced to move to boot. Seemed like the Firstborn had met his match, and Rachel was more than happy to sit back and watch her sweet baby boy sweat like a soldier in review as Tomás turned him this way then that to see what needed to be taken in or let out.
And when all was said and done, Howie was stood before her all dressed to the nines and looking sharp as can be. She had her own dress ready and waiting in her room, so after admiring him for as long as she dared and warning him not to mess his clothes up any, she ran off to shower and change. Chrissy was already ready and waiting with her silver hair plaited into a French bun while wearing a lovely white bouffant dress. Beautiful as an angel she was, all pretty and proud to show off with a twirl while Rachel and Sasha applauded.
The broody girl was also looking spiffy in one of Howie’s old suits, which meant she was much too thin for her age. The result of malnutrition in her formative years no doubt, though she had yet to open up about her time in the Coral Desert. Howie said her daddy was the gunsmith who Etched his Nanfoodle, but otherwise, all Rachel knew was that the girl had walked out of the desert on her own two feet and made her way all the way to the quay when she couldn’t find anyone willing to hire her in Meadowbrooke for any jobs worth doing. From the few questions she asked, it was clear Sasha looked up to Howie though, or at the very least, looked up to the stories about him, which was all the excuse Rachel needed to take the girl in under her wing.
Especially one who just wanted a chance to work like Sasha did. Dropped by every day to eat because she didn’t know how to cook, but would always ask for work and give every task her all no matter how hard or unpleasant it might be. Rachel knew she’d found a winner when she spied Sasha leaning in to give Momo a kiss on the head while in the middle of mucking out the barn, as it took a special sort to love a beast while clearing sizable piles of its poop out with a pitchfork.
Was Sasha’s work ethic more than anything else that won Howie over, though her cool and aloof demeanour probably earned her plenty of points too. The slender Soviet beauty had a reserved, androgenous charm to her, all dark and brooding with skin as white as ivory despite working out under the sun most days. Stood next to Chrissy, they were almost two peas in a pod, one dark haired, the other silver, with matching blank and distant expressions. They looked so picturesque, Rachel couldn’t help but snap off a couple photos, ones that were much improved when Sasha started blushing for all the attention. Was also clear Sasha was wishing she could wear a dress, but she’d made her choice and was still having a ball with Chrissy on her arm.
Not to mention looking lovely as a summer breeze, so lovely Rachel was surprised Howie hadn’t noticed anything amiss about the young ‘man’ who’d recently moved in and dropped by for three squares a day. Then again, maybe he had, if only on a subconscious level. Howie was usually much more protective of Chrissy when it came to other boys, but here he was happy to leave her alone with Sasha while he got himself dressed. Could be because he saw that Sasha didn’t have no ulterior motives and was also fiercely protective of her, or maybe Howie himself didn’t even notice that he treated Sasha differently. Wasn’t for Rachel to pry though, as there was no way to ask without giving the game away, and it was Sasha’s secret to keep or share as she pleased. There’d come a day when she learned that Howie was harmless to anyone who meant him no harm, so until such a time, Rachel would simply have her fun dressing Sasha and Chrissy up like a couple and taking oh so many photos of them standing arm in arm.
A shame Tina wasn’t here to get all dressed up too, as the Rangers had been invited to help with security, a courtesy extended to them by the Mexican Government to show how they were being all aboveboard with their preparations. Which was a real shame, as that meant Tina wouldn’t get to wear her lovely new dress and would have to settle for Ranger tans instead. Knowing her, she’d be real sour about it too, but thems the breaks of being a Ranger, which was why Rachel never wanted to put the badge on again, not even now that her babies were all grown up.
She had so much fun taking photos of the pair, she almost forgot the time, and might well have left late if Howie didn’t show up to check in on them. Saw Chrissy linking arms with Sasha and didn’t so much as blink, and instead smiled and offered Rachel his arm as he walked her out to collect Cowie and board the carriage waiting outside. Evan was sitting up front as the driver, while Sergei played the part of footman who opened up the door and lowered the steps to help them in. Left Lina, Marek, and Caleb on overwatch, with the latter no doubt already in place to oversee everything going on at the Governor’s dinner party. Rachel wasn’t sure if he’d be there attending as a guest or disguised as one of the workers, but either way, she was all but certain he’d be there and ready to help if need be, because Caleb Finch wasn’t just the man with the plan, he was someone who liked to get things done with his own two hands.
And from what little Rachel knew about him, she figured he wouldn’t be anyone entirely unknown. No doubt Uncle Teddy would know more about the man, but she hadn’t thought there was all that much to him so she hadn’t bothered to ask before they left. Especially after Howie made it clear the mercenaries were working for Mr. Tillman rather than him, though they didn’t seem to mind the fact that Mr. Tillman was staying home for the night. He was just a part of the support staff after all, while Howie was the main draw, and he knew it. Didn’t say much on the ride in, as he was focused inwards on his thoughts and his plans for whatever may come, but when the carriage pulled up to a stop and Sergei knocked on the door to let them know they were here, Howie’s blank expression transformed into a calm and casual smile, one that might even be called smarmy as he exited the carriage then turned around to help Rachel out.
For all his faults, she’d raised the perfect little gentlemen, and she pitied the long line of girls whose hearts he’d break in years to come. Not through any fault of his, unless you could blame him for inaction or ignorance. He was smart as a whip, but thick as stone when it came to certain things, so much so that she was surprised sweet little Josie had gotten her claws into Howie so quickly. With help from Noora of course, though Rachel didn’t quite know how to feel about that, as if Howie were to ever develop a weakness, then chances are it would have something to do with women.
Tonight, he was all hers however, as once they presented their invitations to security and were waved on in, Chrissy was content to go around arm in arm with Sasha to listen to the lively Mexican music. As for Howie, he was marked and ambushed by no less than five diplomats, all of whom had turned Rachel down for a meeting the last few days, but rushed over at the first sight of him with those Magus pins to praise him to the high heavens. As for Rachel, she played along and let Howie know all about how busy these folks were seeing how they didn’t have time to even respond to her requests, while her sweet baby boy picked up what she was putting down and tactfully excused them as he was hankering for a bite to eat and just had to chase down the fella with the tiny taquitos that smelled so divine.
“Bunch of phonies,” he muttered, keeping his smile as he walked them away from the brown-nosers at a slow and sedate pace. “Couldn’t be more transparent if they tried. Bet they was standin’ on the sidelines for as long as they could, hopin’ the Feds, Republic, or Mexicans would tip their hand on where I stand the go from there. Now that we’re here though, they got no choice but to risk it, so they’re bettin’ the Republic brung me in to help in some way or the other and want to get on my good side now.”
Rachel had figured out as much herself, but she was proud to hear Howie had too. There were times when he seemed so socially unaware that she wasn’t sure what to do, but now she knew it was mostly for show and he just preferred to go at his problems headlong all the same. That was a different sort of problem, one she would work on starting now, as this wasn’t something he could solve with a gun. Could tell from the way he kept almost patting his hip that he wasn’t none too happy to be walking around with only the one holstered in his belt, the shiny new Overture that looked chic, modern, and deadly as can be. Was a compromise, as he couldn’t walk into a diplomatic event strapped and loaded for bear, but he’d be a fool to come entirely unarmed, so they settled on keeping one gun on his hip that ruined all the clean lines of his suit.
He also had his dainty Model 10 strapped to his calf, while she had her shiny new 1911 stowed in her handbag alongside five spare clips and ammo aplenty should Howie need it. Chances are he wouldn’t, as the Governor had spared no expense on defense, with armed guards patrolling the property and more hidden amongst the waitstaff. Howie spotted the planted soldiers too, and even played around a bit as he’d only ever ask the soldiers about whatever it was they were serving and frown when they didn’t have the answers he wanted. “I need to know exactly what’s in the dip,” he was saying, gesturing at a little plate of what looked like salsa verde while taking the individually portioned slices of toasted flatbread one at a time to feed Cowie by his side. “Can’t be feeding my Cowie anythin’ but the best, now can I? They say dog’s a man’s best friend, but if they anything like wulves, then I’d rather have a bull at my back any day of the week. Ain’t that right, pardner?”
Cowie let loose with a bellowing moo that didn’t look right coming from a wee little calf like him, shocking a good third of the people on the floor with them. Rachel had to cough into her hand to keep from bursting into laughter, and gave Howie’s arm a squeeze to say he ought to let the poor Custodios go, as it was clear he didn’t speak a word of English. Reading her message loud and clear, Howie turned away from the man and leaned down to talk to Cowie some more, who was all hopped up on carbs and eager for more, so the two of them looked like the young man and excitable bull that they were, albeit ones that were far more deadly than they appeared.
“Zhu Hao Wei.” There was a certain tone to the way the man said Howie’s Qinese name, a warmth and familiarity that wasn’t entirely genuine, but wasn’t exactly faked either. Got Rachel on alert it did, because she knew how some of the Qinese were about bringing Howie over to their side for no reason than the circumstances of his birth. They put a lot of weight on seniority after all, so having the eldest child born on the Frontier would be a big win in their books. Didn’t matter if no one else cared, because unlike most countries, the Qin Republic weren’t all that concerned by what others thought about them, but more interested in making sure their people kept inside the party lines.
That’s why they had Ming killed after all. Because he dared to not only step outside the lines, but thrived while he was at it. That was what he wanted, to show his people that there were options besides the Republic, that the Qin were still the Qin regardless of who ruled over them, which made him a real maverick among the Qinese despite being a complete stickler for the rules in all other regards.
This Qinese man was nothing like Ming, and not a whole lot like Howie either. That’s how the Qin were, a varied, multi-ethnic group who all stood under the same banner despite the visible difference between them. Which made sense considering the size of the Republic, the largest country of the old world with the largest population to boot, so the fact that they all gathered under the same banner without a care for the differences between them was admirable to be sure.
Course, having an Immortal Monarch at the helm for well over two thousand years would do that to a peoples, especially when said Immortal Monarch kickstarted his career by burning all the books he didn’t care for alongside the scholars who wrote them. Say what you will about the Qin Immortal Monarch, but a tolerant man, he was not.
As for this particular Qinese man, he wasn’t lean of build or pale of complexion like Howie was, nor did he have the broad shoulders and bronzed skin that Ming had. Instead, he possessed a sturdy, compact build, like he was moulded to be six feet tall then shrunk down in height to five foot four without adjusting his width at all. His thick brow, square jaw, and wide features were nothing like Howie’s sharp facial structure, or Ming’s softer, rounded ones, and his five-o-clock shadow was thicker than most men’s beards after a week without shaving despite being bald as a cue ball up top. Thick and barrel-chested, this was a man who’d done work as a warrior and still lived the life despite his fine trappings of silk, fur, and gold adorning his body. His meaty hand adorned in gem-studded rings stretched out in a friendly pat, one that found it’s target despite Howie moving to avoid it, but it was all done without malice as far as Rachel could tell.
It was just a casual greeting, one made without thought as the broad man’s hardy features twisted into a friendly grin that was still fearsome to behold. “Excuse mine Eng-lish. Good to meet you, Hao’er. Good. Magus, good, good.” Removing his hand from Howie’s shoulder, the stranger pressed his palms together and bowed. “This one, Li Tie. Zhǎnglǎo. How you say? Elder.”
“Pleasure’s all yours, I’m sure,” Howie said, and Rachel gave his arm a squeeze to tell him to mind his manners. Even if the man’s English wasn’t the best, there was sure to be someone nearby who’d translate for him, like the lovely Jingfeng who stood meekly by his side with her hands folded and head bowed while wearing an elegant, red and gold Qinese dress that skimmed along the lines of her body in a tasteful yet suggestive manner. Rachel almost didn’t recognize her, as the girlie had her hair done up in adorable twin tails bound by red and white ribbons that were just absolutely darling to behold.
So it didn’t take much for Rachel to break the tension by greeting the Elder, then stepping forward to give Jinfeng a warm hug. “Didn’t get a chance to say it the other day,” she said, giving Howie and the Elder time to cool their heels, “But thank you so much for looking out our Howie. He’s always been a hothead who jumps before he looks, but thankfully it was just kids bein’ kids and wasn’t no one hurt.”
“I did only what any true son or daughter of the Republic would,” Jinfeng replied, keeping her head lowered and eyes averted the whole time, “Supporting one of our own against the disgraceful Nipponese.”
Now that was strange. While Jinfeng was a very polite and mannerly young woman, they’d built some rapport in their days spent together in the Badlands, so for her to act all demure and distant wasn’t what Rachel expected. It was a message, one that said Jinfeng didn’t want this Elder knowing exactly how close they were, but Rachel wasn’t entirely sure as to why.
A question that was soon answered however, as Elder Li Tie smiled his ugly smile and said something long and flowery in Qinese that got Howie’s hackles all up. Jinfeng’s too, though she did a better job of hiding it as she translated for them both. “According to Republic law, any citizen of lawful age who has rendered material service to the Republic shall merit and receive appropriate recompense as determined by the competent authority. As such, Elder Li Tie would be honoured to act as matchmaker for this lowly one and presents her to Sir Zhu for inspection. He believes that we would make for a good pairing, the Firstborn and Second Sister, the two eldest of the second generation coming together to bring about the third.”
Knowing exactly how Howie would respond, Rachel stepped in before he could explode and said, “A marriage? Between Jinfeng and Howie? Oh, thank you for the kind thoughts, but they’re much to young to be getting married just yet.” Reaching out to slip her arm around Jinfeng’s shoulders, she gently drew the girl over to her side with only the faintest touch of resistance. “That said, I do like Jinfeng here, as she’s a right proper young lady who knows how to take care of herself. How about this? Why don’t we send them off to get to know one another without any of us older folks hanging about and see if any sparks develop between them, and then there won’t be nothin’ we gotta do at all.”
While Jinfeng translated for Elder Li Tie, Rachel kept a blank smile on her face while resisting the urge to Command him to soil himself where he stood. Not just because it would’ve been rude, but also because he had the look of someone who’d be hard to Enchant. Still, it was one thing to maybe arrange a marriage, but what sort of backwards thinking would lead him to offer Jinfeng up for ‘inspection’? It wasn’t the girlie playing games with the translation either, not if Howie was already all heated before even hearing it, so Rachel made up her mind then and there to see what she could do about saving Jinfeng from the Republic without forcing her to marry Howie. That’s the sort of thing Ming wanted after all, to be an example for his people, so Rachel would hold him up as one and do what she could to help others escape their upbringing just like he had.
Even if it meant doing some decidedly undiplomatic things to this Elder Li Tie and angering the Republic something fierce.
