There was 'Nog, but no rum

You people must realize that the only times I actually make a post, is when I'm not at home.

Okay, not all the time. But at least the random posts are made most often when I'm on the road, or on vaction.

Well, you can add another first to this.

I'm kinda drunk.

Yes, egg nog and vodka. What? Vodka? No Rum? Why no rum? Well, that would be because there is no rum in the house right now. There's just Smirnoff Triple Distilled vodka. But won't that curdle the egg nog, you ask. Well, in theory, yes. Egg nog is essentially a dairy product. As my friend Pearce pointed out, it could curdle it. But, not if you pour the vodka first, then the egg nog.

Really, this post is going nowhere right now, so I'm gonna go back to my 'nog. Merry Christmas, everyone. And a happy new year.

It Came Upon A Midnight Clear, Pt. 5

The four riders watched the small cottage from the crest of the hill, ignoring the cold wind that whipped around them. The sounds of joy and laughter seemed to calm the cold that surrounded them. Sywyn could only smile as he listened to the sounds of laughter and song. “And we did it without drawing weapons or shedding blood,” he said softly.

“No' ev'rythin' need be done with a blade,” Mandrel said as he nudged the paladin gently.

“'R a shootin' iron,” Shani added with a grin. “Though, we done 'nough o' thet what bein' in Mexico, over in the Territories an' even forty year back in the deep south.”

“Nice change o' pace it is,” Pania stated with a firm nod as she began to steer her horse down the trail. “I think we start ridin', we'll 'it Saint-Marie by the new year.” The others nodded and began to follow her slowly. “Plus, we've already go' a way ta give word ta the locals down there.”

“Oh, how exactly would that be?” Sywyn asked with genuine curiosity.

“I know the 'Uron an' Algonquin languages,” Pania said with a confident grin. “An' I know o' an ol' carol that'll give 'em word. I'll sing it as we ride.” There were no arguments from the others as they rode, only giving Pania the opening she needed to begin. And she did indeed sing in the native tongue that the song was originally written in. “Ehstehn yayau deh tsaun we yisus ahattonnia...”

'Twas in the moon of wintertime when all the birds had fled, That mighty Gitchi Manitou sent angel choirs instead;
Before their light the stars grew dim and wondering hunters heard the hymn, Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.

Within a lodge of broken bark the tender babe was found; A ragged robe of rabbit skin enwrapped his beauty round
But as the hunter braves drew nigh the angel song rang loud and high, Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.

The earliest moon of wintertime is not so round and fair, As was the ring of glory on the helpless infant there.
The chiefs from far before him knelt with gifts of fox and beaver pelt. Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.

O children of the forest free, O seed of Manitou, The holy Child of earth and heaven is born today for you.
Come kneel before the radiant boy who brings you beauty peace and joy. Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.

Words: Jean de Brebeuf, ca. 1643; trans by Jesse Edgar Middleton, 1926, Music: French Canadian melody (tune name: Jesous Ahatonhia)

It Came Upon A Midnight Clear, Pt. 4

Mandrel finished hitching the horses to the wagon and looked to his sister. Pania was organizing the last of the parcels and packages carefully. It had taken most of the day and a good part of the evening, but they had managed to collect enough to gather together a decent care package for the small family. While it felt good to entertain, carol and share in the spirit of the season with the locals, the Alow siblings could not help but shake their heads in wonder at what they were doing.

“Typical o' a paladin, isna it,” Mandrel sighed as he climbed into the driver's seat of the wagon. “Granted, a' least 'e's getting' caught up in the spirit o' this world's joyful time o' year.”

“Cannu take tha' 'way from Sywyn,” Pania nodded in agreement as she climbed onto the bench next to her brother. “Shani an' Sywyn should be comin' 'long any minute. Then we can ge' this wagon load movin'.”

“Least it'll be a nice s'prise fer the family, tha's fer certain.” Pania took a look around the area for a moment. The sky was clear, and the village itself was quiet. Noises of song came from some of the homes, but nothing as boisterous as the first day they arrived. “Shani an' Sywyn said they were gonna meet us 'ere in town square.”

“Aye,” Mandrel said with a slight sigh as he took out a pocket watch. “They're five minutes late.”

“Yer watch is fast,” came the familiar twang of the elven gunslinger. Shani sat comfortably in her saddle as the horse loped up to the wagon. Sywyn was not far behind. “Ev'rythin' set?” she asked with a lazy drawl.

“Ready as ever,” Pania replied with a shrug.

“Then let us get this moved,” Sywyn said in his usual even tone. Without any other words, the four began the slow trek to the small cottage. There may not have been a Santa Claus that Christmas Eve, but at least there would be elves.

*****

The children played in the front yard of the small cottage, never straying too far away from their small abode. They had already received a Christmas gift, their home was saved. At least they had something to be joyous about. One of the children stopped his activity and listened carefully. It was the same small boy that had first encountered the elves the previous night. He looked to the lane that lead into the yard and watched as two riders gently trudged through the snow. He recognized them both. Shani and Sywyn Wennemein, two of the four elves. But what came behind them made him cry out with a great cheer.

The other pair of siblings sat comfortably on the wagon, pulled by two strong horses. It was loaded with bags and parcels and all manner of things. The other children stopped to watch, suddenly realizing they had visitors. The celebration had begun. Their mother came out of the house, a smile on her face when she saw Sywyn, and then tears of joy as she saw the wagon.

Christmas had come to this small cottage. A miracle had happened for all of them that night.

It Came Upon A Midnight Clear, Pt. 3

Sywyn found the small abode easily. The boy had described where he and his family lived with great detail. He spoke of his brothers and sisters, and the passing of his father only six months earlier. The elven knight stopped to marvel at the dwelling. Stricken by poverty, this family still managed to bring together the signs of the season. A small spruce tree in the front yard was decorated in paper ornaments, hand crafted with care. Candles lined the window sill. Even laughter seemed to fill the air as the children played. Sywyn deduced that the impending problems had been spared to most here. He knew he had to do something, but the sounds of laughter made him determined.

He urged his horse forward, the hooves crunching through the snow. His mind raced as to what he could do. Perhaps with the help of his sister and the Alows they might be able to make this season joyful for at least one family. As his horse travelled forward, some of the children stopped to watch. Their faces lit up as one small boy whispered to each. This is the one, he would tell them. One of Santa's elves come to help them.

Sywyn brought his horse to a halt in the yard as the children began to gather around, expressions of wonder and curiosity filling their faces. Sywyn was just like any elf, the slender features, the delicate form. But he held a humbling aura about himself. He did not proclaim himself as a holy knight, he did not shout out upon his arrival. The works of his god could be carried out in silence, just as they could with trumpeting revelry.

As he dismounted and looked to the children, he realized something. Whether he believed in the stories of this world or not, was completely irrelevant. Saint Nikolaus, Father Christmas, The Christ Child... They all held truth. It all came down to one thing.

Peace on Earth.

Good will t'ward all men.

Wordlessly, he smiled to each child, then walked toward the small dwelling. One of the older children tended to his horse as he neared the front door. He could see their mother inside. Her face filled with sorrow. There was someone else inside with her. Perhaps this was the man who was so determined in driving her from this land. He would soon find out, as he carefully knocked on the door.

The door opened slowly and the woman looked to Sywyn with questioning eyes. Her face was red from tears, and his heart went out to her. As he removed his stetson, he introduced himself. “Miss. My name is Sywyn Wennemein. I am a knight in the elven court. But your children have come to say that I am here from some place where Saint Nikolaus lives.” He watched her a moment to gauge her response before continuing. “That is not important. What is important, is what your son told me only last night.”

“I doubt you could help,” a mocking voice called from inside the home. “Santa's little helper,” he said with a mocking laugh. “Next ya know the sugar plum fairy will make an appearance.” Sywyn looked past the woman to the finely dressed man who sat at the kitchen table. He was smoking a pipe as he lounged, and a valet stood nearby to attend to his needs. “At midnight tonight, this land will be mine, unless she can come up with the five hundred dollars needed to pay me in full. This was a full contract that was written...”

“The harvest has been poor,” she quickly interrupted him as she choked back tears. “And Harold's passing made it more difficult.”

The man huffed and only seemed to harden himself. “A contract is a contract, miss. If I bent to everyone, then I'd have nothing, wouldn't I now.”

Sywyn heard the short exchange, and knew that he didn't have the money on him, but he still had something else. He arrived on Earth still carrying the gold he had on him when he needed to purchase supplies. And he learned that when in the company of two bards, gold was not always a necessity. Pania and Mandrel could more than 'pay' for their needs by entertaining the crowds with song and dance. So his own gold merely weighed him down.

He removed the satchel from his shoulder and place it on the table in front of the man. “Should this be enough?” The man stared at Sywyn in disbelief before looking into the satchel. His eyes grew wide as he saw the pure gold coins that sat within. Quickly, he grabbed it and handed it to his valet.

“More 'n enough,” the man said as he grabbed his coat. “The land is yours, woman. May we never see each other again.” Without another word, both he and his valet left. Sywyn turned to the woman, watching her carefully, and seeing the change in her emotions.

She looked to him as she tried to hold back her tears, finally letting them flow with ease as she rushed forward to hug him. He smiled as he held her, feeling that he was able to accomplish this without drawing his weapon, without shedding blood. “If only that were all,” she whispered through her tears. “The poor harvest has left us with little food and little money to buy what we need.”

He held her at arms length and looked into her eyes. “I promise, I'll do what I can. I haven't been here long. But I do know that I'll do whatever I can so that at least your Christmas will be a joyous one.”

*****

“Y'all went an' done sumthin' stupid, didn't you, Sywyn,” Shani huffed as she steered her horse toward his. She'd heard him leave that morning, and had some idea what he had done. Plus it didn't take much for her to track him, it was like following a messy child through an empty room.

“The woman and her children have their land,” he announced as he brought his horse beside his sister's. “Now they just need food to last the rest of the winter.”

“Food, huh,” she repeated as the wheels in her head started to turn. “Figger we kin git thet t'gether fer 'em?”

“I have only a little gold left to purchase some food,” he replied with some regret. “Perhaps these people might give in response to the time of year.” Shani nodded, knowing full well that her brother had already had his mind set. She knew that he planned on filling a wagon and delivering it to the home. He'd do nothing less.

It Came Upon A Midnight Clear, Pt. 2

Just outside Ottawa, Ontario, December 24, 1897

Sywyn Wennemein rose early that morning. As a holy knight of his home world, he went about his duties as he normally would. And just like he remembered from his time spent in Old Mexico, he could not hear but a whisper from his god. But there was something else. Another voice that penetrated through to his very soul. And it sounded like the song of angels.

His mind kept drifting back to the tale the boy had spoken of the previous night. How a land owner forced his family to work, and had given them notice that he would drive them from their land. Land, he found out from the other villagers, they had rightfully purchased. But they could do nothing. It seemed this landowner had a great deal of influence in the near by nation's capital of Ottawa, in particular with the government in power and the Prime Minister.

This tale, coupled with the joyful noise the people of the tavern had made, only troubled him more so. During a time of forgiveness, a time of joy and celebrations, one family would feel the wrath of a man who obvious did not have the spirit of this season in mind. Descriptions of the celebration hearkened back to a time during the winter months that many on his own homeworld would often celebrate. When winter's bite would become deep, the only way to fight back was not with the sword, but a sound of joy.

No matter the world, no matter the plane, Sywyn Wennemein knew his duty. He was a paladin, a holy knight. And even though his clothing may look like that of a gunslinger, he still carried the sword of his family at his side. He would do what he could to right the wrongs which had been done.

*****

Shani Wennemein loped downstairs lazily, knowing that the Alow siblings had already made their way to breakfast. If there was one thing she had learned from her traveling companion Pania, she was an early riser. And her brother Mandrel was no different. Already the pair had been entertaining, as a throng of children from the village had been transfixed by their tales that they told. The master bards had been at work, and they worked their magic well.

Pania caught sight of Shani and gave her a wink and motioned her over. The lithe gunslinger moved slowly across the floor, her spurs jingling on her boots like the bells of a reindeer. Shani leaned against the wood of the bar and watched closely as Mandrel and Pania continued to work their magic.

“Now, we've tol' ye a few tales o' darin' an' such,” announced Mandrel to the children who seemed riveted to his every word. “Bu' me sister an' I, we've 'eard a lo' through our travels.”

“We know o' stories far an' wide, aye,” Pania said with a wide grin, as her most dramatic voice caught the attention of not only the children, but some of the adults that had come into the tavern. Word had spread quickly that these four were elves, and that there may indeed be some truth to the tale of good old Saint Nikolaus. “Bu' there's a tale, which I know is dear ta many a 'eart 'roun' these parts.” She gave a nod to the vicar, who had himself come to see this spectacle. “An' a lo' o' these 're no' jus' stories. There's a great deal o' truth ta 'em.”

“Tha's righ',” Mandrel picked up without missing a beat. “Twenty year back the four o' us travelled through Old Mexico, an' a padre in Santa Vega taught us this tale.” Mandrel gingerly picked up a guitar and began to strum, smiling as the gentle tune began to play. As he could hear nothing but the gentle strum of the strings, he began to sing. “Jesus our brother, kind and good, was humbly born in a stable rude, and the friendly beasts around Him stood. Jesus our brother, kind and good.”

Mandrel didn't miss a beat, as the smiling eyes of the vicar took in the lyrics of the song. “'I,' said the donkey, shaggy and brown, 'I carried His mother up hill and down; I carried her safely to Bethlehem town. I,' said the donkey, shaggy and brown.”

Without fail, Pania picked up the tune, letting her soothing voice add to the soft duet. “'I,' said the cow, all white and red 'I gave Him my manger for a bed; I gave Him my hay to pillow His head. I,' said the cow, all white and red.”

Mandrel took up the song once again as he strummed the strings, noting that Shani had moved closer to the duo from the corner of his eye. “'I,' said the sheep with curly horn, 'I gave Him my wool for His blanket warm; He wore my coat on Christmas morn. I,' said the sheep with curly horn.”

Without prompting, the elven gunslinger added her crooning voice to the duet, making a trio, and proving that the race of elves was indeed a musical and magical one. “'I,' said the dove from the rafters high, 'Cooed Him to sleep that He should not cry; We cooed Him to sleep, my mate and I. I,' said the dove from the rafters high.”

The three voices rang out in perfect harmony as they came together as though one voice. “'I,' said the camel, yellow and black, 'Over the desert, upon my back, I brought Him a gift in the Wise Men's pack. I,' said the camel, yellow and black.”

The musical notes of the guitar softened as Mandrel sang the final verse. The entire tavern was quiet as they listened intently to the old English tune. “Thus every beast by some good spell, In the stable dark was glad to tell, Of the gift he gave Emmanuel, The gift he gave Emmanuel.”

As the notes faded into the room, the gathered crowd applauded gleefully, as though a kind of magic had been born that Christmas Eve.

lyrics from Old English Christmas Carol, Written By Unknown

It Came Upon A Midnight Clear, Pt. 1

I decided to interrupt the usual story of the current adventures of Black Mask and Pale Rider to bring you this Christmas story.

Rideau Canal, Ottawa, Ontario, December 23, 1897

The snow crunched underneath the horses hooves, sounding louder than it should have, but the air was crisp and cool and all the sounds that were made seemed that much louder. The four riders huddled together as they travelled the road, using their body heat to keep themselves warm, as the long coats weren't helping. At least there was no wind, that would have just made it worse.

"Tell me 'gain," Shani Wennemein chattered as she clutched the coat closer. "Why in the Sam Hill did we d'cide ta do this 'gain?"

"Easy, Shan," Pania Alow replied, chattering away with as much gusto. "B'cause we wanted ta show the siblings wha' this time o' year were like on Earth."

"I much preferred Old Mexico," Mandrel stated with a firm nod. "It might've been dry, bu' at least it were a lo' warmer." He snickered and looked to his left, studying the stoic rider that was Sywyn Wennemein. "Ye've been quite. Cold no' affectin' ye?"

"It affects me a great deal," Sywyn replied in an even tone. "I just choose not to complain."

"Heh," Mandrel smirked as he puffed out frosty air from between his lips. "Well then, I 'ope ye dunna mind if I choose ta complain, lad." He rubbed his hands together before taking up the reins of his horse once more, urging him forward. "Could deal with a warm cup o' cider 'bou' now."

"We may be in luck," Pania called out and pointed ahead. To their surprise and as if to answer their prayers, the warm glow of lights greeted them through the trees. "Small settlement, this way we can figger ou' where we are."

"I bet we don't gotta figger out the when," Shani huffed a puff of air and urged her mount forward. The four rode slowly but with determination. Warmth was not that far away. As the glow became definite lights, they almost seemed to let out a sigh of relief. Laughter and song could be heard from one of the buildings as they drew near. A pub, by it's appearance. And aptly names. The Red Rose. A fine name that made Shani grin despite the cold. "Any port in a storm, eh Panny?"

"True tha'," Pania grinned back. Storm it may not have been, but the sight of a tavern in the middle of such a cold night was a welcome sight. From the sounds that came from within it's walls, it appeared as though celebrations had begun. The four elves brought their horses to a stop near the pub, and found a helpful gentleman ready to tend to their needs.

"G'deve ta ye," he called out as Pania dismounted. He watched the others as they did the same before continuing. "Cold night ta see trav'llers on th' road. Wha' brings ye this way t'night?"

"Travellin'," Pania replied with a smile. "Ta experience the season in some place new."

The old man squinted his eyes as he studied the four. "No' from 'roun' these parts, are ye? Travel far?"

"Oh, y'all could say thet," Shani replied with a chuckle and a wink to Pania. The elven bard only smile slyly in response. "Need a place ta keep the horses. Fed, watered an' warm."

"Oh, I've go' jus' the place," he replied with a kind smile. "I were jus' out 'ere makin' sure the other horses were tended ta. Mind me manners, me name's Angus McGuilicuty. I own this place. Well, I set it up more 'n forty year 'go when I come 'ere from Liverpool, bu' now I jus' 'elp 'roun'. Workin' the pub's better fer the young ones."

"Sounds like a packed 'ouse," Mandrel observed as he handed over the reins of his horse to Angus.

"Oh, 'tis tha's fer certain," Angus replied with a hearty laugh. "This time o' year always bring 'bou' the good in people."

"Well, we thank you for the information," Sywyn said as he reached into his coin satchel. "And for tending to the needs of the horses." He reached out with a handful of gold that made Angus smile, but the old man waved his hand.

"Keep it, lad," he said with a grin. "'Tis the season an' all."

"Very well," Sywyn merely replied with a kind smile and a nod. As the horses were tended to, the four elves made their way into the warmth of the pub. It was packed, as patrons shared in food, wine and song. Mostly in song, it would seem, as one of the men boisterously sang songs of old. The four removed their stetsons as they stomped the snow from their boots. As they did, they received a few waves from the patrons, an inviting greeting making the warmth grow even more. "Perhaps this wasn't such a bad idea after all, Shani," Sywyn said with a smile.

"'Course it weren't," Shani replied as she seemed to lead them toward a spare table. A waitress came quickly and placed four mugs of cider on the table and took their requests. The food was different than Sywyn and Mandrel were used to, but then they'd already had a taste of different during their time in Old Mexico. "Feels almost magic jist bein' here, don't it?"

"Aye, there's a feel fer the season indeed," Pania agreed. She took a swig of her cider, stopping only as she caught sight of a small child staring intently at the four. The elven bard smiled his way and offered a greeting. "'Ello there, wee one. Ye look as though somethin' caugh' ye eye."

The small boy nodded slowly, seemingly transfixed by Pania's features. Slowly, he pointed toward her ears. The pale elf offered a grin and leaned closer. "Easy ta 'xplain, lad. We're elves."

The explanation seemed to brighten the spirits of the child ever so and he beamed with glee. "You.. you mean... like.... like Santa Claus?"

Pania nodded slightly as she smiled, but Mandrel and Sywyn gave the pale elf a look of bewilderment. Shani quickly came to enlighten them both. "Fat man, rides in a sleigh, give toys ta kids 'round this time o' year. Elves work fer 'im." Mandrel blinked in disbelief, only able to stare at Shani after she gave her explanation. Sywyn only sighed deeply and shook his head as he took another swig of his cider. "What? Ya asked," she replied to their looks with a shrug.

Meanwhile, the small boy had become more bold, and he crept forward, surprising Pania as he climbed into her lap. "Will... will you tell Santa... that it'd be nice if he brought my ... mom someone to help her. She's so tired all the time." Pania's smile faded just a bit as the boy spilled out his words so quickly. And her heart fell with those words. She looked to Shani, then her brother Mandrel. And finally Sywyn.

"It'd 'ppear tha' we've b'come the models o' Christmas in this par'," she said with a solemn voice.

Death on the Bayou, Pt. 3

"Jeb, be a good boy an' fetch my cane if you would," Kingston said in a calm and cool voice that held the air of sophistication. "We are entertaining two fine ladies, so I must make certain my attire is appropriate." He smiled to the small black boy and waved him off to carry out his duty. Kingston fussed a bit in the mirror as one of his body guards stood by near the window. Kingston looked over to him somewhat curiously. "Is there any sign of the carriage?"

"Not yet, Sir," the body guard replied as he adjusted the cuffs on his jacket. Dressed in finery, the man looked more like one to be more at home on the range than working as a guard on a plantation. The hired gun looked back to the window as the small boy ran back in with Kingston's cane.

"Why thank you, Jeb," Kingston replied with an overly genuine smile. Why don't you go downstairs an' ask Miss Mabel for some corn bread, hmmm." The boy smiled and Kingston saw the question that seemed to hang in the boy's eyes. "An' yes, you may ask for some fine Swiss cheese to go with that." The boy ran off excitedly as Kingston waved him off yet again. "Make certain ta inform Marcus that we'll be lockin' the gates once the carriage arrives."

"Sir?" the gun hand inquired as he looked back to Kingston.

"This Miss Wennemein spent a great deal of money on that slave," Kingston said as he tucked the cane under one arm. "That means he is worth a great deal, and is someone to be added to the stable." The gun hand nodded and quickly stepped out of the room as Kingston slipped into his evening gloves.

"You must be careful, Mahstah Kingston," the deep, seductive voice of the black woman said from the shadows. Kingston turned to look in her direction as he arched an eyebrow.

"An' why would you say that, Lady Isabella?" he asked, punctuating the question with a thud of his cane on the hard wood floor.

"That woman was a gunslingah," Isabella commented. "She is powerful. Ah can feel it in me bones."

"Well," Kingston replied with a sly smile. "If that is the case, then we will most assuredly have to call upon your talents, my dear. For how many people in this world have ever had ta deal with the walkin' dead b'fore?"

*****

The carriage came to a slow stop at the front gates of the plantation. Ezekiel hopped off the back of the carriage and moved to the door, opening it with ease. Shani took her first steps out onto the pristine racked path that lead to the mansion that lay before them. She took in the area with a gunslinger's eye, taking note of the hiding spots that snipers could hold themselves up in. Once satisfied, she turned her attention back to the carriage and assisted Ezekiel as Pania climbed down to the ground. The elven bard moved slowly as she climbed down, making certain her dress didn't become snagged on the carriage at all.

"Well then," Pania said with a sigh as she looked around the grounds. "Fine lookin' place, isna it?"

"Fine 'nough," Shani replied as she once again turned her attention back to the grounds and tried to determine where attackers might lay. "If ya don't mind livin' in a bunker." The three began walking toward the front steps of the mansion, both elves taking in the beauty of the place. Shani, though, could not help but feel a sense of foreboding as they walked past the marble of the Roman columns. Then there was that tug on her arm.

She looked to her left and found Pania smiling as she stood beside the elven gunslinger, arm neatly tucked into Shani's. "Um... what're ya doin'?"

"A lady needs an escort, ye know," Pania replied with a grin.

"I'm fine," Shani stated with a nod. "Really, I don't need no escort." Pania furrowed her brow and let out a harumph. No time to argue, however, as Ezekiel approached the door and knocked loudly to announce their presence. Shani had her mind on other details. "Got a Colt slung on my side in a shoulder holster an' two short blades jist in case. You packin'?" she asked of Pania.

"I've go' one o' me pistols tucked 'way in a garter," Pania replied with a sly smile. "Wanna see?" she asked with a grin as she looked to Shani. Pania's arm was still tucked into the elven gunslingers, and Shani's only response was to roll her eyes and sigh. But any banter between the two would have to be put on hold. The massive double doors, made of only the finest oak no doubt, were being opened.

A rather sophisticated looking manservant bowed to the trio and quietly bid them enter. The lobby of the mansion was incredible. Two stair cases that hugged the wall while seeming to embrace the room with warmth. An elegant chandelier hung with care from the tall ceiling. Paintings were displayed, obviously announcing the former owners of this plantation, which gave a hint as to the long lineage that Kingston came from in the Americas.

The three stood in the lobby and marvelled at the sight. Pania gazed with wide eyed wonder, while Shani took a much more skeptical view of the place. Ezekiel too gazed about the room, but his eyes drifted back to a spot on the floor, making certain to keep himself unnoticed in his position behind the two elves.

"Well, well," announced the broad smiling voice of Jeremiah Kingston as he sauntered into the lobby. "What a sight indeed. Two fine lookin' ladies. Allow me ta introduce myself, I am Jeremiah Kingston, the Third," his smile seemed to grow as he held out his hand to each lady.

"Pania Alow, if ye please," the elven bard said as she took his hand and curtsied with a cow smile. Kingston seemed to chuckle as his eyes drifted across Pania's curvy form.

"I do b'lieve we've already met," Shani said as she removed her stetson, but shook Kingston's hand as a matter of formality.

"Yes indeed, we did," Kingston replied. His eyes fell on the figure of Ezekiel and his smile again grew just a bit more. "I am so pleased to see that you have brought your manservant with you. I believe that if we associate from such lower class people, perhaps they can become educated in the ways of higher society. I am all about equality, but a person needs ta know their place first b'fore they can ascend."

"In'erestin' philosophy," Shani said with a slight smirk. Gods he's such a racist bastard, she thought in almost the same breath.

"I do b'lieve we can discuss more o' this over dinner," he said as he held out a hand to usher the pair toward the dining room. As they walked, Pania wondered if the dining room was just as immaculate as the lobby of this rather palatial mansion.

Death on the Bayou, Pt. 2

Ezekiel Morgan followed obediently behind one of the slavers as he was taken out of the paddock. He'd seen this before, slaves taken from one owner to another. This was his time now. He prayed at least that maybe this master would be kind and understanding. Perhaps, maybe even grant him his freedom. He kept his head low, eyes looking to the ground, knowing exactly when to stop and exactly when to start walking. He listened as the slavers talked but didn't really register what they said. He didn't really look up until he heard the voice of the one who had paid for him.

“Thank ya kindly, boys,” he heard her say. A woman. He'd never heard of a woman owning property before. His eyes drifted up for a brief moment, taking in the lean figure that stood before him. He saw the pair of long barrels slung low on her hips, a pair of short swords tucked neatly into scabbards that rested near the holsters. A gunslinger. He'd been bought by a gunslinger. What would a gunslinger possibly want with a slave? “Son,” he heard her say again. “Y'all kin look up, son.” Ezekiel's head slowly looked up to take in the woman before him. She was shorter than he was by at least a foot and a half. And skin whiter than any white man he'd seen. True white in colour. And her ears, her pointed ears.

“Yes'm,” he said as he looked up, nodding respectfully.

“Name's Shani,” she replied. That alone took him aback, never before had his owner introduced him or herself to him before. “Ya gots a name, son?”

“Y.. yes'm,” he replied with a hesitant nod. “Ezekiel, ma'am.” His timber remained respectful and timid, as he'd learned from previous owners. Any sign of confidence was usually beaten out of most slaves.

Shani nodded with approval and turned to the guards. “Y'all gots the key ta his shackles?” The guards stared at her for a moment in disbelief. Shani huffed and rolled her eyes as she continued. “If I wanted a puppy ta lead 'round on a leash I'da bought a dog.” The guards muttered as they finally handed Shani the key to the shackles, and watched as the pale elf began unlocking the chains around Ezekiel's hands and feet.

“Miss,” one of the guards cautioned as he stared at Ezekiel. “He could bolt an' run.”

Shani stood up and tossed the shackles to the ground and looked Ezekiel in the eye. “Ya ain't gonna run from me, are ya Ezekiel?” The tall black man shook his head slowly. He didn't know what to make of this woman, and decided if he did run, she could easily gun him down. “There, see?” she said as she looked back to the guards. “'Sides, I don't need no personal servant draggin' b'hind me all chained up. C'mon, son. Let's go.”

Ezekiel followed her dutifully, keeping his head bent low and eyes on the ground. His mind raced as he tried to figure this woman. That detective work would have to continue later, as he heard another voice call out to his new Mistress.

“I congratulate you, Madam,” the very debonair voice stated as he approached with his entourage. The dandy that he had seen before. Along with the woman. The woman that made him feel uneasy. “I had hoped to add a strong back to my work force. But it would appear that t'day was not that day.”

“I recon so,” Shani replied with a nod. She didn't smile, but remained cool as the dandy approached. “I needed somebody ta help out with a few things, an' a strong back's what I need. I can't lift ev'rythin'.”

The dandy extended his hand in an offer of greeting. “Allow me ta introduce myself. I am Jeremiah Kingston. The Third. It is a pleasure to meet such a lady as yerself.” He smiled to her with a slight bow as he introduced himself, his well trimmed mustache and goatee matching his demeanor.

Shani smirked and nodded as she shook the man's hand. “Shani Wennemein,” she said slowly, allowing him to believe that she had a slow, Texas drawl. “The first.” Ezekiel kept his head low but managed to shift his eyes back and forth between the two of them. He already was beginning to piece together some of Shani's body language. He could tell she really didn't like this man. Rightly so, he also gave Ezekiel a very odd feeling.

“If I may be so bold,” Jeremiah continued after the short introduction. “But it is often an honour ta meet a lady such as yaself. It would be most pleasant if ya might join me at my plantation for dinner.” His smile was ever present, making Shani believe that it actually might really be a fake.

“I would haveta say thet is most kind o' ya, Mr. Kingston,” she said with a nod. “I will haveta say, though, I am gonna bring 'long my partner. Pania's 'er name.”

“Well,” Jeremiah let draw out as his eyes seemed to brighten at the prospect of not one, but two women that he could entertain. “I will look forward ta seein' ya both. And please, do bring your manservant. He is most welcome ta join us as well. I will send a carriage ta your quarters around six this evenin'. I don't need the address, buyers such as yaself are easy ta find.” He bowed to her as his smile grew just a bit, and then moved off, followed closely by his entourage.

When he was completely out of ear shot, Shani turned to Ezekiel. “I don't trust the bastard.” This comment, combined with the fact that she confided in him, surprised him even more. No one had ever done that before. Ever. “C'mon,” she said as she began to move down the street. “Need ta git cleaned up an' then all three o' us needa git gussied up. Y'all kin meet Pania, too.” Even with the few surprising events in the last few minutes, he obediently followed her down the street. These events would be nothing compared to what was to come.

*****

Pania sat back in the warm water, eyes closed as she hummed quietly to herself. Finally, she had a decent bath. After several days of running creek water through her hair, she would be able to soak and get some of the stench of the trail out of her skin. This was something that she'd been waiting for over the course of their ride from Oxford to Shreveport. They didn't stay for very long in one place, so it made it difficult to get a decent bath. And now she had the opportunity to actually sit and soak in a nice warm bath.

The boarding house was very high class. The few thousand they had accumulated from previous jobs afforded them some ability to pass themselves off as high than their class. Even on Earth, flash enough cash and it got you places. And this place even took in clothing to wash it. She sighed deeply as she relaxed. All was perfect with the world. Even the sounds that filtered in through the window, the tromping of booted feet down the hall, the laughter from the patrons of the establishment, the shouts from outside as people called to each other. All of it seemed relaxing.

She even enjoyed the reception she received, as each person took to calling her Mademoiselle, to which she bowed in thanks and repeated the greeting. It felt very high class here.

The sound of light boots and the familiar ching of spurs signalled that Shani had returned. Pania smiled, maybe if she remained in the tub, Shani might be tempted in some way shape or form. The door opened as Pania continued to hum to her self.

“Damn, it is hot out there,” Shani called out as she moved through the three room apartment they had rented. A decent sized place for such a boarding house. Another example of its high class nature. Pania heard the shuffling around of feet. And then she heard something else.

“Oh my Lawd!” The voice was most definitely male. “I am so sorry, Miss. I did not mean ta ...” Pania opened her eyes, which grew to the size of saucers when she saw the tall black man standing with his back to his, a hand covering her face. “I am so sorry, Miss.”

“Shani!” Pania called out quickly as she rose to her feet and quickly grabbed a towel. The elven gunslinger walked back into the room as she heard the commotion, somewhat confused by what she was hearing.

And then it became all too clear when she became enlightened of the situation.

“Oh fer cryin' out loud,” she said with a sigh. “Pania, put some dang clothes on.”

“Oh, I'm sorry,” Pania huffed, her voice holding a mocking tone. “I didna know we were gonna 'ave comp'ny comin' o'er.” She wrapped the towel around her, gazing over at the black man every so often, then motioned Shani over as the shock of being seen in all her glory had finally passed. “Who's tha'?”

“His name's Ezekiel,” Shani explained.

“Mhmm,” Pania said with a nod as her eyes continued to gaze over the man's form. “Now. Please explain why there's a very, very black man in the room. An' dunna try an' say ye met an ol' friend on the street. I know 'ow blacks 're treated 'ere.” Her eyes moved to Shani as she waited for the explanation.

Shani sighed slightly, knowing that no excuse would be good enough for the elven bard. “I ... I bought 'im,” she finally said in a quiet voice. Pania's only response was a blank stare, only broken up by the odd blink from time to time.

Pania opened her mouth two or three times as she tried to find the words. Her mind tried to process what she had just been told. Naturally, it was the only logical answer, but she still couldn't believe what she had just been told. “Ye... bough' 'im?” she finally said with a voice filled with shock. “With money?”

“Yeah, money,” Shani shot back. “I figger one way ta actually free a slave may very well be ta buy 'em.” Shani rolled her shoulders as though she struck a small victory with her comment. Ezekiel heard the words, and realization sunk in. This woman did plan on saving him. Maybe not him per say, but she purchased him, and she wanted to free him.

“An'... wha' 'xactly were the plan?” Pania finally managed as she was able to produce a full sentence with less shock in her voice. “Buy a slave, ride up ta 'Arrisburg, knock o'er a bank, ride back 'ere, buy a few more...”

“Hell, no,” Shani replied with a grim tone. “It were impulse. I jist... I couldn't jist stan' there an' watch.” She took a deep breath as she waited for Pania to continue her tirade. But the elven bard's attention had focused on Ezekiel again. “Ezekiel,” she called out to the black man. “'Salright, she ain't all nekked no more, ya kin turn 'round.” Ezekiel did as he was told, keeping his head bowed low and eyes to the floor.

Pania moved forward, her anger toward Shani, the shock of being exposed in front of a complete stranger, was all but gone. “Ye dunna 'aveta look ta the ground, ye know lad,” she said softly. “I were a bit s'prised, an' no' angry.” She smirked as she looked to the elven gunslinger behind her for a moment. “'Least no' at ye, lad.”

Shani sighed and shook her head in reply before changing the subject. “We got other problems ta think 'bout anyways,” she stated quickly. “We been invited ta a fancy dinner by a Jeremiah Kingston. The Third.”

“The Third?” Pania repeated with a chuckle. “Sounds important, aye.”

“I bet he think he is,” Shani replied with a smirk. “Anyways, coach is gonna come pick us up at six. We needa git us some fancy clothes an' git ourselves all purtied up fer t'night.” He eyes moved over to Ezekiel and then to the bath tub. “But first, we needa git cleaned up.”

*****

Ezekiel stood straight as he inspected the fine suit he wore. He'd never had clothes like these, and it made him feel important. The fine, black material, along with the black dress shoes. Mind you, the shoes did pinch a bit, but he wore them, never having had such articles before. Both Miss Shani and Miss Pania were off in other rooms dressing for the evening. Ezekiel still had a difficult time getting past the image of the white hair elf from his mind. It was their first meeting, and he often did not see people naked when being introduced. One thing was certain with these two, they were different, and they treated him differently. While they shopped for clothes, they took him along, asked his opinion, wanted to know if he liked the clothes they picked out. Granted, it was done in hushed tones, but still, they asked his opinion. As though they treated him as an equal.

His thoughts came back to the present as the door to one of the spare rooms opened and Shani walked in. She wore smart looking slacks and matching vest that covered a fine silk shirt. The pale elf slipped on a matching bolero jacket and topped off the wardrobe with a brand new stetson. Her new boots seemed slick and the spurs gave a sharper ching as she walked. Even the gunbelt was new and pristine looking, holding her trusted long barrels with care. Under the vest, she wore a shoulder harness that held each short sword in comfortable scabbards and neatly tucked away from sight. Ezekiel smiled as she stood in the middle of the room, as though modeling the latest fashion. Shani dressed up quite well, making the Tom Boy look come out that much more for her. Had it not been for the fact that her long hair and feminine features gave away her gender, she could have been mistaken for a man.

"Ya look right nice, Miss Shani," Ezekiel said with a genuine smile. His opinion was honest, it wasn't a forced thought that came out to satisfy an owner. Shani did look very nice indeed.

"Well, thank ya, Zeke," Shani replied with a grin. She had begun taking to calling him Zeke, finding the name quicker to use and easier to say. "How ya find them clothes?"

"They fit right good, Miss Shani," he said with a nod. There was some hesitation before he continued, however. He knew there would be no reprisal for his comment, but he had grown up not wanting to voice discomfort in front of white folks. "Shoes're a bit tight."

"Well, couldn't find nuthin' in yer size," Shani replied with a sigh as she fixed up the bow tie for him. "Jist keep up 'ppearances 'til we git done dinner 'n then we kin find ya a decent pair o' soft shoes." She picked up a smart looking black cap that sat on a nightstand and handed it to Ezekiel. He took it carefully and gently placed it on his head, adjusting it so it felt comfortable. The pale elf smiled and nodded her approval. "I figger we gonna come off lookin' like a right respect'ble group o' upper class society at Kingston's lil sworay." She looked back to one of the doors that lead to another spare room. "How y'all comin' in there, Panny?"

"I'm comin'," a muffled voice said from behind the door. "Jus' gimme 'nother minute."

Shani rolled her eyes and shook her head as she muttered in a low voice next to Ezekiel. "Fer swingin' fer the other team, she sure are a girly girl."

"I 'eard tha'," a louder, but still muffled voice called out from behind the door. There was some shuffling around and several moments passed. Finally the door opened, and Pania stepped out. Both Shani and Ezekiel were silent for a good long while as they took in the vision that Pania had become. Her dress was maroon with gold trimming along the ruffles of the skirt, at the waist line and about the neckline. Pania wore long evening gloves and displayed a gold ring on her left hand. A gold flower nestled on her bosom, as gold trim went up to the shoulders. With her left hand, she held lightly onto a matching umbrella. Pania had transformed into an upstanding southern belle.

Ezekiel smiled as he nodded. "You... ya look real nice, Miss Pania." The elven bard grinned as she curtsied. She could tell the tall, black man's comment was genuine. Just something in his eyes let her know.

"Yeah," Shani added with a slight smirk. "Y'all purty up but good, girly-girl." The elven gunslinger snickered as Pania scowled mockingly at her. The seeming playful nature between the two elves made Ezekiel smile. It had been a long time since he had felt like this. It felt good. The sound of a carriage coming to a stop could be heard through the open window, and Shani moved to get a clear view of the street below. "Looks like our carriage has 'rrived." She looked back to her companions, smiling a sly smile. "We went all out an' gussied up, now it's time ta play the part. Like I done said b'fore, I don't trust this Kingston 'far as I kin throw 'im, so be on yer guard."

Death on the Bayou, Pt. 1

Shreveport, Louisiana, September 23, 1863
Pania removed her duster and wiped her brow. Not only was it hot, but humid. Never before had she felt such conditions. The heat and humidity felt like a huge weight that bared down on her. Shani felt it too, as both gunslingers looked tired in the saddle. Even their horses loped along slowly. That didn't stop them, however, as off in the distance they could see their goal. Shreveport. Here was where Pania had wanted to come. Help with whatever was needed in the Underground Railroad.

“Goddamn,” Shani huffed as she tried to breath through the thick and cloying air. “Ain't never felt nuthin' like this b'fore.” She pulled on the reins and brought her mount to a halt as she looked toward the town sight. “Gonna need a bath when we git inta town.”

“There's gotta be a place ta rest b'fore we start lookin' fer them wha' run the railroad,” Pania suggested in a tired voice.

“Jist keep thet talk 'bout the railroad quiet, 'right,” Shani offered her advice. “We don't need no gun play when the air's so hot it'd make a Junebug fry on a sidewalk as it's walkin'.” Pania chuckled lightly with Shani's simple wisdom. But she was right. It wasn't as though they could walk door to door and ask. Both elves coaxed their horses forward toward the town. They took note of the small camp that lay on the outskirts of Shreveport, saw the armed guards. “Wonner what's goin' on?” Shani mused.

“Slave auction,” Pania replied under her breath. She could see the slaves, lined up like cattle in the camp. Rich dandies walked through the camp, inspecting possible purchases for later in the day. She had only heard stories of the auctions, and now seeing one up close, she grew just that much more disgusted with the human race. “I still dunna know how one man can claim ownership o'er 'nother man, an' sell 'im like 'e were cattle.”

“The obvious reason's starin' ya in the face,” Shani suggested as she lit a cigarillo. “Y'all don't gotta go no further 'n the colour o' their skin.” Again, Shani was right. The rich, white slavers that held court to decide the fate of the dark skinned workers. To the Confederates, this was just another day. But to a pair of elves who had only heard about such activities, it was just another nail in the coffin of the human race.

Pania motioned to Shani as the entered the town limits. Citizens busied themselves with their days work, almost ignoring the small camp. The sight had become a normal one on auction day. For the elves, it wasn't so much the camp that filled their minds, but a place to rest. And Pania saw a rather comforting looking boarding house. They brought their horses to a halt and tied them off on the hitching posts, lazily entering the establishment. Pania held her duster over one arm as she carried in her satchel, Shani did the same, making sure that her most precious possessions were close at hand. Shani would let Pania talk to the owner, maybe they could get a decent room, a decent bath and a hot meal.

“There looks ta be a good place there,” Pania pointed out a clean looking boarding house. “Need ta get a good 'ot bath.” She entered the elegant looking building, something of a common appearance in this southern city.

“While yer doin' thet,” Shani called out as Pania opened the door to the establishment. “I'm gonna scout out, see what I kin find 'round here 'bout information on the auctions an such. Give a listen in there, maybe some loose lips.” Pania nodded as Shani tipped her hat and rode off. The pale elf stretched as she worked out the kinks in her back. She'd been riding in the saddle for too long a time, and had grown stiff. Yes, a good hot bath was in order.

*****

Shani brought her horse to a slow stop as she neared the gathered crowd. Their attention was riveted to the main stage as an auctioneer called out. She furrowed her brow as she saw men and women paraded onto the stage, and prices called out. Men in the crowd placed bids quickly as each lot was brought onto the stage. Shani became sickened by what she saw, but knew there was no way to stop it without getting gunned down in the streets. It was time to play things cool and just watch.

She gained a feel for the crowd as she watched, and saw the looks on the slaves as they were paraded up on the stage. And then she realized, she still had a large sum of the money from the job in Harrisburg. “Maybe one wrong kin make a right,” she muttered under her breath. “Use some o' this here money ta buy somebody's freedom.” The prices that were finalized were high, but not enough to make a significant dent in the amount she had. She looked through her money belt and found a cool one thousand tucked away. Her favourite saddle bag held the rest of her earnings.

“Ma'am,” a voice called out. Shani looked up and studied the man who approached her. She didn't even realize she hadn't dismounted from her horse yet, her mind was too full of ideas. “Ya look like yer contemplatin' a look over the merchandise.”

She struggled with keeping a civil tongue, knowing full well the word merchandise referred to other human beings. “Been thinkin' 'bout it a might, I wager,” she replied.

“Well ma'am,” the man said as he approached her. “If you'll dismount, one o' the boys can take care o' yer horse an' I'll register ya with a ticket.” He took out a clip board and pencil as he watched her dismount. He got a strange feeling from Shani, she didn't look like the type to be owning slaves one bit. “Mind if I ask yer interest in this auction, ma'am. Haveta know, just ta be certain. There's a lotta agitators that would like nothin' more 'n ta strip down a way o' life we built up.”

“Well, I'd say thet there is mighty polite o' ya,” she said with a smile after she let the workers take away her horse. “Been range ridin' fer a spell, figger it's time ta settle down. Get a piece o' my own, so ta speak.”

“Puttin' the cart b'fore the horse, ain't ya ma'am?” he replied with a small snort of laughter. “Usually plantation owners buy land first, then worker stock.”

“Some workers have a good eye fer land,” she replied. “Be nice ta know I ain't buyin' somethin' thet'll be done in two years. I got a lotta time invested, an' I'm lookin' fer one ta help me an' mine out.” She took the clipboard and wrote down her name as she spoke. “I'm here with a partner o' mine, Pania's her name. We've been ridin' fer an awful long spell, figger it's time ta settle a bit.”

The man nodded, confirming that Shani's bull story had done the trick. The bigger the lie, as it were. “I understand completely, ma'am. I take it you two have husbands.”

“Hell no,” Shani replied with a smirk, trying to hold back some laughter as she had an image float through her mind of Pania in a wedding dress getting married to some southern gentleman. No chance that would ever happen. “But ya never know what'll happen in the future.”

“True 'nough, ma'am,” the man said with a smile and tipped his hat. Shani walked into the throng of people that watched the stage. She'd already seen quite a few of the slaves that had come and gone. She just wanted one, didn't matter. One to free. Her good deed, so to speak. She watched the others as they bid, studying how much the offer was, watching their facial expressions. In a way, even though she had the noblest of intentions, she felt extremely dirty.

The bidding continued as each was brought to the front. Shani found herself standing beside a rather well dressed man, a dandy as it were. He held himself with an air of importance. She then looked to the stage, and saw the latest brought on the block. The auctioneer gave no name, just a lot number. But Shani could see a dark skinned human, and looked upon the man with different eyes than the rest that stood here.

“Bidding will start at 15 dollars,” the auctioneer called out. Immediately, the dandy called out with his bid, opening the session. She knew he always backed off around one hundred dollars as she had studied his bidding before. Another called out, raising bid to twenty. When the bid hit thirty, Shani made a call.

“One hunnerd!” she called out, and looked right at the dandy. He was watching her with a smile, and Shani became surprised as he raised his own hand.

“One hundred an' twenty.”

The bid surprised her. He never went above one hundred as far as she saw. But the bidding continued. Shani didn't know if this man was a caring slaver or not, but she didn't care. She knew that if she won, she had the best chance to give the man his freedom. It was a far cry from how she would usually do such a thing, busting into a place with guns blazing or steel slashing.

“One thousand!” she called out to the shock of the audience. There was silence as the crowd stared at Shani. Even the dandy was looking at her with a grin on his face. The auctioneer called out for other bids. As none came, the gavel came down, and the lot was completed. With one shocking announcement, Shani had just purchased a human being. The realization finally sunk in. Oh lord, she muttered to herself. What have I jist done?

I Am The Law, Pt. 7

Oxford, Mississippi, September 21, 1863
Shani looked around the office for a moment as she gathered her things together. She and Pania had been in the town for nearly two weeks. They'd gone from hunted outlaws to trusted peacemakers, in just two weeks. After Shani took down Dorval, life in Oxford grew much more peaceful. A new judge came in from Jackson, and the rest of Dorval's men were sent to trial. Some were given light sentences. Others, like Mitch and Gator, had enough evidence against them that they saw the gallows. Peace had returned to this little spot in the south.

And it was time for the two elven gunslingers to move on.

J.C. Walker stood in the doorway as Shani finished packing her things. He watched her as she gazed upon the silver star that she wore for those two weeks. It had become an extension of her, something that she didn't even take notice of. Sheriff Wennemein. It did have a ring to it. “Lotta people gonna be a bit disappointed that yer movin' on,” he said in a somber tone.

Shani didn't look up, she merely shrugged in response. “Sometimes a person has ta do what they gotta do. I come ta this world lookin' fer adventure. I ended up doin' somethin' thet needed bein' done. Now it's time ta move on.”

Walker pushed himself off the door frame and walked into the room and took a look around as he spoke. “Guess that's true 'nough. At least ya helped put people's minds at ease. Been a while since a man could walk down the streets o' this town an' see people smilin' without getting' that feelin' o' dread.” He stood beside Shani, and even though his six foot seven frame towered above the elven gunslinger, he looked upon her as though she were ten feet tall. “Gonna be hard ta find a new Sheriff.”

She moved to face the old gun hand fully, and looked up into his eyes with a smile. Shani still held onto the silver star with delicate fingers, and for a brief moment, looked to it before reaching up and gently placed it on Walker's lapel. “No,” she said in a quiet voice that held a small smile. “No, it ain't gonna be too hard ta find a new sheriff.”

*****

Shreveport, Louisiana, September 21, 1863
Armed guards circled the small camp that was set up just outside the small city of Shreveport. In recent years, it had come to this. Renegades from the north and sympathizers from the south had begun raiding slave traders, and stealing off with slaves. Owners who were putting slaves up for auction had the most to lose, as they had time and money invested in these slave auctions.

To Ezekiel Morgan, the politics didn't matter. He just waited things out, going from one master to another. He hoped, in time, that he might see some of these people who would free him or any of those he was caged with. Born in captivity, he did not know what freedom was. But he'd heard the stories. Perhaps one day, he might actually taste his own freedom.

He looked up as one delicately dressed man wandered through the camp. Behind him there was a small group that followed him, including a woman. A black woman, dressed in the oddest of clothes. She looked very fine, and very well kept. Maybe this slaver actually treated his slave better than some others. But he soon pushed that from his mind as the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He got a bad feeling from this woman. He wasn't sure what it was, but he only knew, she could not be trusted.

The adventure continues...

I Am The Law, Pt. 6

The day went by slowly as the people of Oxford went about their business. Rumour had spread quickly, something was going to happen on this day. No new people, no celebration in the town, nothing of happy times ahead, but news and rumours that put worry in the eyes of the townsfolk. They could feel it as they would pass by Sheriff Wennemein or any of her deputies.

Shani walked the streets just for something to do. She was nervous, excited, and worries about the events to come. She knew Dorval would cheat, as his nickname would indicate. He'd try to set up some sort of trap, and have her gunned down in the streets by his men. Fortunately, Shani had backup of her own.

Word came down where Dorval wanted to meet, and it was ironic that the location was where Cole had been gunned down by Mitch and his buddies in drunken revelry. Shani would not allow that to happen to herself. So she inspected the town square, taking note of the rooftops, the alleyways, the hiding spots where Dorval might set up his men. She wanted all of the angles covered. So for most of the day, Pania, Walker and Ming explored the town square as best they could. They determined absolutely every possible location that Dorval's men could ambush the elven gunslinger from. They already knew that Dorval had ten men who would ride with him. More than likely they would come into town a couple of hours before the appointed meeting. Possibly half an hour before they would set themselves up. So Pania had her work cut out for her. Thirty minutes to flush out the ambush.

Shani had the easy part. If one could call being faced down by a gun hand with the possibility of being shot dead in the street easy. However, with her three allies, she had nothing to worry about. Dorval would be the one who needed to worry. Shani just had to keep up her bravado.

Nothing like a date with death to make the time drag by slowly. Noon came and went and Shani paced with a nervous excitement in the office for an hour. Partially wanting to steel herself by letting Mitch mock her, call her down. But after a while, even that outlaw knew that Shani was just using him to bolster her own confidence. Eventually, he quieted down and lay down on his cot until Shani finally decided to leave.

The afternoon dragged on. There was no contact and no sight of either Dorval or his men. The assumption was that Dorval would leave things until the last might and not allow Shani the time to scope out the area decided upon. And so, Shani stayed close to Pania, Walker and Ming in case anyone tried to ambush her before the alloted time come.

By five thirty, the message came.

Gator walked with a smirk down the street toward the Sheriff's Office. He had that cocky attitude that would come around when he felt he was on the winning side. Shani and her crew was lazily resting on the porch to the Sheriff's Office when they saw the cowboy approach. Shani pushed herself off the support post she'd been leaning on to meet Gator in the street. “'Bout time ya come here,” Shani called out, stopping Gator in his tracks.

He snickered as he studied the elven gunslinger for a moment. “Small change in plan,” he stated with a smile. “Dorval d'cided it best thet y'all don't gotta git worked up too much. So he figger ya just stay here. Dyin' in front o' yer office'll be poetic 'nough.”

“So Dorval thinks,” Shani replied in an even tone. “Tell Dorval I'll be ready.” She watched as Gator lazily turned and marched back down the street. Shani waited until he was out of earshot, then turned to her comrades. “Time's a wastin'. Guess we best git this started.” The other three nodded wordlessly and moved into the street. They had just one goal, find Dorval's men, take them out and make certain to quell any thoughts of an ambush. Shani was suddenly very alone as she stood in the street and waited.

It wasn't long.

Dorval walked down the street slowly, his eyes landing on the elven gunslinger as she stood in the street. He smiled and let out a quiet chuckle as he called out. “Seem yer all 'lone, little girl.” He came to a stop twenty yards away from her, his eyes staring her down.

“Oh, I got alla help I need,” she said as she patted the pair of Colts that rest on her hips. Her voice held a brash confidence that Dorval could easily recognize. “Way I hear things, this has been a long time comin' fer you.”

“Indeed it has,” he replied quietly. “Sheriff always come inta town with dreams o' keepin' the peace. What he don't understan' is the peace always been here. I keep the peace. I set the laws. I am the king o' this here territory.”

“Settin' yerself up fer a mighty big fall, Dorval,” Shani called out, her voice echoing in the now empty street. Shopkeepers busily locked their door and boarded the windows, knowing full well what was about to happen. “Talk like thet draws all sorts o' nasty lookin' ta take ya out.”

“Whyn't we just get this started,” Dorval sneered as his hands rested lightly on his six guns. Shani nodded and positioned herself as her eyes stared down the gunman. The air grew still, and even the birds stopped their chirping as though they too knew what was about to happen. No one wanted to get in the way of this fight. Huddled in the safety of the surrounding buildings, some people prayed, hoping that this constant fight of chaos would today finally end.

The silence was broken. Not by a gun shot, but by breaking glass. Ming had found a target in the upper floors of the boarding house. The gunman was easily taken care of, as the cowboy's body broke through the window violently. Ming walked onto the balcony with confidence as he stood over the unconscious form of the would be assassin. Dorval glared as he realized that his plan was slowly starting to unravel. That became more of a confirmation as a shot gun blast sounded out. A wounded cowboy stumbled out into the street and fell to the ground. Walker strode slowly up to the man as he loaded the double barrel shotgun and stared at the wounded cowboy.

Dorval was growing uneasy. His plan was completely and utterly ruined. He only had one hope, and those were the men he'd ordered to position themselves on the rooftops. But even they would not be able to assist.

Gun shots rang out, one man fell from the rooftop to the street below. Dorval looked up, seeing the elven bard with a smoking Smith and Wesson in her hand. And she didn't stop. Keen elven eyes spotted the other attackers and flashes from both pistols came to life as the elven songstress cut down the rest of the cowboys with ease. Pania looked down to Dorval on the street with a smirk as the last gunfighter fell to the ground. None of Dorval's men were killed. Wounded, but not killed. “Looks like the fight's gotta be fair, Dorval,” Pania called out. “Guess ye'll 'aveta rely on yer own skill.”

“'Less yer a coward,” Shani added as she smirked toward Dorval. The old cowboy was steamed. His plan was destroyed, and he was mad as hell. To be mad in a gunfight was a big mistake. He reached for his guns, fully expecting to fill Shani with bullets, but found he was just a bit too slow. As his hands reached for the pistols the first of the bullets rained down. Shani was faster than he was, and she was so much more deadly. Her aim was perfect as the shots hit his chest first, filling his with lead. Her last shot struck Dorval dead center in the forehead.

His body seemed to float as it fell back. The windows of the nearby shops began to open as people peeked out. There was a sudden sigh that could be felt, as though a weight had been lifted from their shoulders. The tyrant who had ruled this territory with his own style of justice lay dead in the street.

Shani held up the pistols as she stared at Dorval's body. It was over. Finally over. Slowly, she twirled the now empty six shooters and holstered them. She looked up to Pania's position on the rooftop and offered a smile. Pania replied with a small wave. Ming and Walker gathered up the remaining cowboys and carted them off toward the Sheriff's Office.

It was all finally over.

Yarrrr!

Shiver me timbers!

It's September 19th!

And that means only one thing. It's International Talk Like a Pirate Day. Okay, so it's not something that is celebrated in a very secular fashion or even a major commercial fashion. But it's still a fun day, and something to keep one's sanity firmly in place.

So grab ye cutlass an' batten down the hatches. Whether ye be from the Prairies (famous for the Last Saskatchewan Pirate) or from the islands an' sailin' the seas sailed by Cap'n Cook 'imself, enjoy the day an' give yer co-workers a Yarrr jus' b'cause.

...ahem...

Maybe get a few cough drops in case your throat gets a little dry from talking like a pirate.

Until me booty is hidden away in the cove...

...keep 'em flyin'.

Passing of a Legend

It's often odd to read news stories about a general manager or a former player in sports one day, and then the next hear of their passing. Such was the case with Ron Lancaster. Ron Lancaster became the face of not only the Saskatchewan Roughriders, but of the Canadian Football League. Born in Pennsylvania, he was considered too small for American Football at five foot nine. But he went north, and joined the Ottawa Rough Riders in 1960. He was the back up quarterback, and showed a spark for times when he was pressed into action.

But Ottawa was Russ Jackson's town and team. They couldn't have two big quarterbacks in Ottawa. So Lancaster was traded.

To the Saskatchewan Roughriders.

For the next 16 years, Lancaster became the player that set the tone for other quarterbacks in the CFL. Nicknamed the Little General, Lancaster never thought a game was not able to be won. There was always time left on the clock. Lancaster was the quarterback who brought the Grey Cup to Saskatchewan for the first time in 1966. The Green Riders would make Cup appearances again in '67, '69, '72 and '76. He set records that stood for over two decades. After his time as a player, he coached for two unsuccessful years in Saskatchewan, before moving to the broadcast booth, with the CFL on CBC.

After a long stretch in the booth, Lancaster returned to the sidelines as head coach with, first the Edmonton Eskimos and then the Hamilton Tiger Cats. He won a Grey Cup with each team, winning Coach of the Year with Hamilton.

From the side lines, he moved to the front office, becoming the general manager of the Ti-Cats.

Lancaster was 69 years old, and passed away due to complications with lung cancer.

On Saturday, September 20th, the Saskatchewan Roughriders will don their retro jerseys, sporting a Number 23 on them in memory of Lancaster. A moment of silence will be had before the Riders take to the field against the B.C. Lions. On the same field, that the Little General commanded his own troops so many years ago.

As always...

...keep 'em flyin'.

Days of the Fall

Summer is quickly winding down. Examples of the coming of autumn are all around us. Though the weather has been relatively warm, that still hasn't stopped the colours of fall to shows up all around us.

The past few weeks I've had the opportunity to drive from Outlook down line 19 in delivering a weekly publication to different locations spread throughout the communities along the highway that leads to Lake Diefenbaker. Along the road, nestled in little patches of prairie are these jewels of communities that are surrounded by trees. The small bluffs hide within them the communities of Hawarden, Strongfield and Loreburn. The last jewel in my drive is the village of Elbow that is right on the Lake.

Each of these communities is just off Highway 19 and each has a peaceful tranquility that can only be seen in the small villages that dot the Saskatchewan landscape. It's almost captivating to be there. For myself, I feel a rush of memories to when I was younger, and would be in Ardath or Conquest when I was growing up.

These gems that lead to Lake Diefenbaker are capturing some attention. Not major news, mind you. But they are being seen as a great place to live for those looking for a summer retreat. I've spoken to a few people in Elbow and there have been so many new people that have come in from Alberta and given the communities along the road a new life. I've actually found myself thinking about that very concept of moving to a place like these. It isn't the city, there's no major shopping centers, no hustle and bustle that pulls one in as the rush of traffic moves like soldier ants down the freeways that is Saskatoon.

It's much more peaceful than that.

Until next time...

...keep 'em flyin'.

I Am The Law, Pt. 5

Pania walked into the saloon and shook herself slightly as the rivers of rain water dripped from her duster. The rain had started hard and unexpectedly in the late afternoon, acting as some kind of omen. Shani looked up from the pool table as she was lining up a shoot. Anything to keep her mind busy after what happened this day. Walker leaned against the bar of the saloon and watched the game. He was pensive, having said twice that Joshua wouldn't be gone this long without checking in. Pania walked over to a small wood stove near the entrance of the saloon and warmed her hands as she looked out the window into the rain filled street.

“Rains gonna be 'ere fer a while,” she said aloud, hoping that would break the silence.

“'Least there ain't no thunder,” Shani replied with a small smirk. Pania looked over to the elven gunslinger and smiled softly, knowing exactly what she meant. Her gaze turned back to the window as she watched rivers of rain fall down the window. It seemed so peaceful in a way, yet so violent.

Through the fog of humidity that had steamed up the windows, something was out on the street. Pania could see something swinging in the wind. “Oh gods,” she whispered as she moved to the entrance of the saloon, then out onto the boardwalk without another word. She stared hard at the object that seemed to hang heavily from a large oak tree that grew beside a small church. A distant lightning strike light up the street just enough for her to see it clearly, and she gasped as she finally spoke. “Joshua!”

Shani and Walker didn't have to be told twice. They both moved quickly to the boardwalk in front of the saloon to join Pania. The small elf had already begun to walk into the street, ignoring the rain as it fell around her. Walker and Shani moved right along with her as they drew closer to the body that hung from the tree. Sure enough, it was Joshua.

Walker sneered as he took a deep breath. He was certain he knew who had done this to the young man. It wasn't enough that they shot him up, but they had to hang him in the street too. But he also kept his wits about him, knowing full well what this was really about. “It's a diversion,” he said through clenched teeth. “Dorval's more 'n likely got a coupla his men headin' ta the cells ta bust out Mitch.”

Shani checked her pistols and looked to Pania. The elven bard checked her own, but drew her rapier. “Use the shadows,” she suggested. “Try an' ge' the jump on 'em.” The other two nodded in agreement, as both Shani and Walker drew pistols. The trio snaked along the buildings keeping close to the walls as they tried to blend in. Shani and Pania did it quite well, having been in this situation many a time before. Walker was surprisingly quiet for the size of man he was. Pania watched the streets around the office carefully. She pointed without a word as she saw a shadowy figure near the side of the building.

Dorval's men were not nearly as quiet as the two elves and their human companion. Their attention was fixed on their current work, and they didn't pay much heed to the street. They assumed the rain would keep most people in doors. So neither man heard the small elven bard come up behind them as Shani and Walker moved to flanking positions. Pania raised her rapier and let it touch the jawline of the cowboy she knew to be Gator. “Awful bad weather ta be out like this, aye,” she said calmly as she pushed just a bit, letting the tip of the rapier draw just a bit of blood.

Gator didn't move, but his eyes looked toward the voice. He knew if he turned he was dead. “Ev'nin' Deputy,” he said with a smirk. His partner reached for his pistol, but found the business end of a long barrel pushed against his temple. His hands slowly raised into the air as his eyes looked to Shani. Walker came out from his hiding spot, sawed off shotgun held up and aimed at Gator. “Fancy meetin' ya here.”

“Out fer a stroll?” Pania replied a little too calmly. She pushed back the urge to conjure a small cantrip, and send a lick of flame up his nose. “Bi' rainy fer tha', innit?”

“You boys been sneakin' 'roun' a bit too much,” Shani added quickly as she watched Gator's comrade. “Y'all shoulda stayed at home t'night. But, glad ya could come out. This give me the option ta let y'all give Dorval a message.”

Gator strained his eyes to look toward Shani, his body uncomfortable as he was back against the wall, the tip of the rapier held firm along his jawline. “A message? What message? Thet ya gonna curl up an' die?” He snorted a force laugh but winced as he felt the rapier tip push a bit more. “Alright. Wha's the message?”

“T'morrah,” Shani hissed. “Six o'clock tomorrah night. Dorval meets me here, out in the street.” Both Pania and Walker looked to Shani with some caution in their eyes. They both knew when someone was being called out. And that was just what Shani was doing now. “We end this once an' fer all.” She pulled away from Gator's comrade and motioned for him to move. “Jist me an' Dorval,” Shani repeated as she motioned for Pania to step back. The elven bard took a step away from Gator and the cowboy moved forward slowly.

“Dorval's gonna gun you down, girl,” Gator sneered.

Shani drew her other Colt and held it firm as she aimed it at Gator's head. “Dorval ain't gonna do nuthin' ifn I shoot ya right here. Now git!” The trio watched as the two cowboys walked slowly to their horses and rode out of town. Pania and Walker looked to Shani for a moment. The elven gunslinger took a long, deep breath. “Please tell me I didn't jist do somethin' stupid.”

Walker studied the woman for a moment before speaking. “Ya think ya kin take Dorval?”

Shani looked over to the old soldier and slowly nodded. “I like ta think thet my braggin' is more 'n jist bravado. I jist gotta b'lieve I'm better 'n he is.” She turned toward the saloon and slowly began to trudge back. Walker and Pania quickly followed pace. “We needa come up with a plan,” Shani finally said as she entered the saloon. “Dorval ain't stupid, he's more 'n likely gonna try an' pull the wool over my eyes an' have his men set up ta take me out.”

“If I were Dorval, that's what I'd do,” Walker agreed with a slow nod as he put his shotgun in a wooden gun rack. “Probably from the rooftops, alleyways. You called him out, means he's gonna send word where the fight's gonna take place. An' he'll be cocky, pick some place where ev'ryone can see.” He moved to the bar and took up his position he held previously. “He'll wanna make an example o' ya.”

“Thet's what I'm gunnin' fer,” Shani replied as she leaned against the pool table. “Panny. Kin ya check an' see if Ming's over at the church. Git 'im an' bring 'im here.” Pania nodded quickly as Walker just watched the elven gunslinger for a moment. A smile came to his face as he saw the wheels turn in her head. “I got me a goddamned plan.”

*****

The rain had let up just a bit as Gator and his comrade rode back into the ranch. Dorval furrowed his brow as he noted the lack of two extra riders. He moved forward on the porch of the ranch house and leaned against one of the posts. “Where's Mitch?” he called out as the two cowboys carefully tied their horses to the hitching posts in the horse shelter.

“Sheriff got ta us first,” he admitted with some regret. “Got a message fer ya.”

Dorval pushed himself away from the post and took a step onto the ground in front of the porch. He looked to Gator with intense eyes. “Wennemein's got a message for me? Really? Well, I hope it involves her curlin' up under a rock an' dyin'.”

“She's callin' ya out,” Gator said quickly. He knew Dorval was not one to mince words, and like his information plain and simple. “Gun fight t'morrow ev'nin' at six o'clock.”

Dorval snickered as he moved forward a couple of steps and looked toward the town site. “Well, that is interestin'. She wants ta die that badly, huh. Well, I see no reason not ta oblige her.” He turned slowly to Gator and smiled. “Gather the boys. We got some plannin' ta do. I'll pick the spot an' you send word ta Wennemein. An' after I take her out, deal with that Alow an' Walker too. Getting' rid o' him has been a long time comin'. An' now is just the right time for him ta be put six foot unde

I Am The Law, Pt. 4

The casket closed on Cole's body as the remaining gunslingers stood by solemnly. No one said any words as the very private ceremony took place. Ming bowed his head in quiet prayer for the man he had never known, but obviously a man who tried to uphold justice. Walker's expression didn't change much, making him seem that much more hardened due to his age and the things he'd seen. Joshua wept as the casket was peacefully loaded onto a wagon. Cole had been a mentor to him, quite possibly the one man who had helped him after his dreams of success were wiped clean.

Shani and Pania stood by and waited. They neither knew the man well enough, nor could they say any words for him. It was best the things needed were left up to his friends. Shani looked toward Walker as he limped along the boardwalk, placing his stetson squarely on his head. If anyone would be the best to tell Cole's wife, it would be Walker.

“I'll take Joshua with me,” he said to the two elves. “Tell Mary Anne 'bout what happened. Probably be a better part o' the day.” Shani nodded solemnly as the old gunslinger limped over to his horse. Joshua slowly mounted his own as the pair readied themselves for the journey to Cole's old homestead. The wagon would follow, and it would be there that Cole would be laid to rest.

Ming had moved on, staying in his stoic manner of little words, as he went to the church to see about the children. Leaving Pania and Shani behind to contemplate the events that had happened so recently. The pair moved back into the Sheriff's office where they had secured Mitch and one of his comrades. Both were passed out, the effects of the alcohol finally taking its toll on the men. Pania could only sigh as she looked to the cages.

“I could ride out there,” Pania suggested in a quiet tone. “Ride out there an' rain fire on 'em. End this once an' fer all.”

Shani looked up with a scowl on her face. “Ya ever hear o' somethin' called the Salem Witch trials?” She paused long enough for the elven bard to acknowledge with a nod, but even Pania knew where this was going. “Ya start flingin' magic in a place like this, we both gonna git strung up, Sheriff's star 'r no. I mean, it's a dang miracle thet they ain't done thet b'cause o' what we look like. Ya add a massive fire ball inta it, an' we kin kiss our butts good bye.” Shani sighed deeply as she stopped her rant, knowing that her voice had raised just a bit. She wasn't mad at Pania, but mad at the situation. Part of her would have ridden right out there to that ranch and help Pania in any way she could. “Sorry. But we gotta play this the ol' fashioned way.”

“There's gonna be a lotta gun play,” Pania said with a somber look in her eyes. “Isna there?”

Shani nodded her head slowly. “Gonna be ready fer it?”

Pania snorted a weak laugh and finally nodded in reply. “Aye, I'll be ready fer it. An' if anyone gets too close, I've always go' me rapier. Diff'rent in this place, bu' at least it's no' magic.” Shani finally smiled for the first time since Joshua told them about Cole. It was somewhat forced, but at least she could allow herself to do so, knowing that she had Pania on her side.

*****

Cole was his only friend.

At least, that's how he felt. Joshua had known no other that had seemingly sacrificed everything in order to help out someone that he barely knew. And for that, Joshua was eternally grateful. But now, Cole was dead. Killed by men in a drunken rage because Cole was interrupting their fun. The Cantons always looked at things in a more selfish light. But it had to stop now. It didn't matter that there was a new sheriff. Each sheriff always looked at things the same way. Analyze the situation, and go from there. More often than not, they ended up dead, beaten, scared or worse.

But now Joshua was going to end it, once and for all.

He left the homestead alone, not saying a word to anyone. Not even to Mary Anne, whom he felt the worst for. Joshua just got on his horse and seemingly rode aimlessly. His aimless riding took him directly to the doorstep of the Canton ranch. He was alone, as he faced eight riders, including Dorval himself. Joshua could see more men at the main house, in his grief he ignored the fact that they wore blue uniforms.

“Deputy Clemens,” Dorval shouted out as Joshua brought his horse to a stop. “What brings you out this way? Sheriff Wennemein send you out here.”

“No,” Joshua replied in a shaky voice that betrayed his own fear. But something deep inside overrode any fear he felt. Vengeance. “I'm here ta let you know, just how bad Mitch shot up Cole.”

Dorval chuckled a bit as he heard the quavering in Joshua's voice. “Well, that's just too bad, Clemens. I heard that Cole got in the way an' took a bad hit at the wrong time.” He shrugged lightly as his hands remained lightly tapping the saddle horn. “Pity, really.”

“Pity!” Joshua shouted back. “What your men done was pure evil, Dorval. One day, yer gonna rot in hell b'cause o' the things you done.” Without thought for his own safety, without consideration of the consequences, Joshua reached for his pistols. He would never get the chance to draw as the bullets from Dorval's men ripped into him. Joshua's body fell with an unceremonious thud to the ground.

“Well, that's a fine mess,” Dorval said with a mild chuckle as he steered his horse back toward the main house. His men split off, one group to deal with Joshua, the other continuing a patrol of the property. Dorval never liked to fight, to be honest. But when push came to shove, he always had his men to back him.

“Dorval!” the familiar voice of Captain Williams called out. Dorval could see the other soldiers mounting their horses. “I will not stand for the shooting of a peace officer.”

Dorval sighed and shook his head as he leaned back in the saddle. “You don't get it, do ya, Captain. I am the peace 'round here. I am the law in these parts. This is my town, an' my place. Them that wanna play sheriff gotta understand ta play by my rules.”

“And that includes killing a sheriff's deputy?” Williams replied in disgust. “I am hunting Alow and Wennemein. But I won't require your assistance in this matter. I'm taking my men north. Should those two decide to return north, then I will pick up the trail again.” He strode over to his horse and mounted it quickly. “But I will not be part of a slaughter like this.”

“That's too bad,” Dorval called out as Williams ordered his men forward. He smiled ever so slightly and shouted as Williams and his men began to disappear down the road. “I'll tell ya what, I'll send their bodies ta Washington in a day 'r two. How that sound?” Williams didn't ever respond as he and his men continued to move forward. “Gator,” Dorval called out to one of his faithful. “Find out 'bout Mitch. We're gonna have ta get 'im back. This encounter has given us a good way ta send a message.

*****

Shani watched as the doctor patched up Mitch and his comrade, her hand always close to her long barrel Colt. Pania remained close as well, hoping that her suggestion of medical care for the gunslingers was not a mistake. At first, she was going to offer it, but gave into Shani's demand that they bring in the town doctor. Shani was not going to let a monster like Mitch anywhere near Pania.

J.C. walked back into the sheriff's office in a somber mood. He'd seen Joshua ride off, but had no idea where he went. He face showed lines of worry, but he was not one to go off half cocked chasing something he couldn't understand. His attitude was one of a waiting game, unless the situation called for much more drastic measures. In the past, he'd found that waiting and observing would bring the best results.

He walked up to Shani and spoke in a quiet voice. “Dorval's gonna send someone ta get him outta here.” Shani looked up to Walker and nodded in reply. She knew, she was expecting it. “Gonna have ta see what happens. Probably gonna try somethin' t'night.”

Mitch continued to glare at Shani and Pania in turns, smirking as he barely heard Walker's words. It didn't matter if they were prepared, they'd be dead by morning. Dorval was one tough customer. The small group continued to talk amongst themselves, watching Mitch as they did to ensure he didn't get any bright ideas. As the doctor finished his work, they shackled Mitch up and put him back in the cell. He wanted so badly to say something to put their minds in an uneasy situation. He could feel something coming to the surface. But he'd never get the chance.

The door to the office opened quickly as a soldier in a blue uniform entered. Walker seemed to grimace a bit at the sight of the uniform, but made no move. Shani and Pania recognized who it was immediately. Private Johnson, one of Williams men. “Pania Alow, Shani Wennemein,” he said politely, even so far as to tip his hat. “Captain Williams sent me. We were in the area, but are returning north. You two have amnesty here, as long as you remain in the Confederacy, Williams said he will not give chase.” The two elves seemed to breath a sigh of relief with the news. “However, should you decide to return north, he will give chase again.”

“Why the news, Johnson?” Pania inquire quietly. “No' sayin' it's no' 'ppreciated, mind ye.”

Johnson looked toward the elven bard a moment before he continued. He remembered the chase, and remembered that Pania had him dead to rights. But she didn't kill him. Maybe the wanted posters embellished the events of Pale Rider's past, and in a way, he grew to respect her. “Dorval's men killed a deputy by his ranch. We were going to enlist their aid in capturing you two, but not after that.”

“Deputy!” Shani said with some shock. She looked to Walker and Pania and each of them realized who Johnson meant. Joshua. Shani sneered as she spoke through clenched teeth. “Thank ya fer the information, Johnson. 'Least it give us some warnin'.” She tipped her hat as Johnson left the office, then turned to Mitch and gave him a sneer. “Y'all have no idea how much yer boss is gonna pay.”

“Oh, I ain't gotta worry 'bout nuthin', little girl,” Mitch sneered right back. “Come this time t'morrah, yer all gonna be sit feet under. You have my word on that.”