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?