Bounty Hunter

by Michelle E Lowe

  Pierce slumped. “Can’t we go around the Fire Field?”

  “We can,” Itza-chu stated. “But it’ll take days for us to travel north toward Texas or south toward Caballito through hostile territory.”

  “The hell with that!” Pierce exclaimed. “We’ll cut through the bloody Fire Field and take precautions, is all. Let’s head back over to the doohickey shop and buy compasses.”

  “Are we planning on setting out today?” Emma asked.

  Pierce sensed she was tired and wanted rest, as did Jaxton. A carefree tinkerer and a snake oil salesman weren’t accustomed to such grueling exploits. Itza-chu might be able to continue, but, in truth, Pierce was also exhausted and had been itching to see his family.

  “If the tosser lives in the area, chances are good he isn’t going anywhere anytime soon,” Pierce stated. “The hunt can wait a day, yeah?”

  Everyone was over the moon.

  “Let’s regroup before noon the day after tomorrow in the lobby of the Sun Buscador Hotel. How’s that sound?”

  Everyone nodded, and Pierce clapped once. “Grand!”

  They returned to the gadget store and purchased what they needed, then bid each other farewell and went their separate ways.

  “Tóngxué nǐhǎo, young man,” came a voice from behind Pierce as he was about to mount his horse.

  Pierce looked to see the airship captain Geming Xiong. He had a sizeable lump on his forehead. Pierce remembered seeing the poor bloke fall with his ship.

  “Cap’n,” Pierce greeted wearily.

  The captain didn’t appear cross, though it was hard to discern his true mood from behind the darkly tinted eyewear he wore. He carried with him his mechanical pipe and a piece of paper.

  Although he was smirking, Pierce was almost too nervous to ask, “How . . . how is everything?”

  “I have had better days. My ship is in pretty bad shape.”

  Pierce cringed. “Damn. I’m sorry, Cap’n. Have you spoken to the mayor?”

  “Shì. He made an announcement in the square yesterday. He instructed us to submit damage claims. I’m here to see how much it will cost to replace a damaged composite drive leg for my propulsion. I hope to receive enough to pay for it, along with the other damages like the mast and sails—even the ripped hot air balloons and smashed-up keel.”

  Pierce felt bad for not seeing how Captain Xiong was after the crash. That day, though, he’d felt it wiser to vacate the city as soon as he could leave.

  “I hope so too, Cap’n.” He gestured to Itza-chu and himself. “We’re working hard to make sure everyone gets their loot by hunting down bank robbers.”

  “So we’ve been told. It is a good deal for us if you succeed, shì?”

  Pierce nodded. “Aye, I reckon so. I’ll make this right, Cap’n.”

  Captain Xiong patted him on the shoulder while taking a drag off his brass pipe. “I know you will, young man. What is your name, anyway?”

  “Pierce Landcross, Cap’n.”

  “Well, Landcross,” he said as smoke breezed out between his lips, “good luck in your hunt. Here, take this.” The captain pulled a knife out from under his sash. It had an ivory handle with a slightly curved blade. “It is a fine knife. It will bring you luck.”

  * * *

  When Pierce and Itza-chu left the city, the wind was kicking up due to the oncoming thunderstorm, and gusts sprayed sand over them.

  “Fuckin’ hell,” Pierce complained, pulling his scarf up over his nose and mouth.

  The cloth was warm, damp with a days’ worth of sweat, and it smelled bad. And yet, it was still favorable to breathing in mounds of sand.

  “I have half a mind to go ahead and put my mask on.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Itza-chu advised from under his bandana. “You will need all of your oxygen if we get caught in a Fire Field sandstorm.”

  At the store, they had bought the masks Pierce had noticed on their first visit. The masks were constructed of black leather with two vacuum hoses connected to oxygen tanks. The tanks were very similar to the Wheel’s nitrous tanks, only smaller. The pack they came in carried two tanks—the primary tank and the spare. The pack itself was leather, fitted tightly around the tanks.

  A crack of thunder sounded above as loud as a cannon blast, making Pierce jump. He reached into his rucksack and brought out the goggles he had also purchased. Well, that Emma had bought with her winning loot. She had gotten her, Itza-chu, and Pierce the masks, tanks, and goggles. Jaxton had bought his own, as well as the compasses they’d need to keep them moving in the right direction.

  Pierce wiped sand from his eyes and slipped the goggles on. The world was tinted green, the color of the lenses. There were several colored lenses to choose from, even clear ones. Pierce thought the brighter tint would be more helpful if visibility became difficult in a sandstorm. That and he simply liked the color.

  Grains of sand tapped against the goggle’s glass lenses. The winds grew stronger, forcing him to remove his hat and hold it.

  “Yep, you’re right,” Pierce called out loudly to Itza-chu. “A desert storm is like no storm I’ve ever seen. No bleedin’ rain!”

  Itza-chu slipped on his own goggles and looked at him. His lenses were bright blue. He pointed in the direction of the sea, which was obscured by the hills. The sky grew darker as rain-bloated clouds rolled in. The first touch of rain in weeks was a pure blessing. After departing from such a saturated place as England, Pierce never thought he’d miss it so.

  The rainfall started off light, but not for long. A downpour of fat, heavy drops soaked the travelers. The weight of it brought the airborne sand down and quickly transformed it into mud.

  Pierce was overjoyed. He slipped off his goggles and stretched out his arms, tilting his chin upward. He caught rain in his mouth, and the water washed away the rest of the sand from his eyes. The rain took away the dreadful heat and replaced it with a cooling sensation that felt nearly too good to be true. Pierce almost believed he was having a religious experience.

  It was dusk when they reached the village. Pierce quickly unsaddled his horse and went into his and Taisia’s hut. The opening in the roof was covered by a thick hide tarp that Pierce had noticed from outside. It kept the rainwater from pouring inside in droves, but drops dripped nonetheless. A couple of buckets were set directly below the hole, catching the relentless water, though some still seeped through the spaces between the bucket’s short boards. He saw all this through the light of the lanterns glowing all about the hut.

  “Pierce!” Taisia greeted him happily.

  She was lying on the heap of furs, reading a book. On seeing him, she hurried to her feet as he set the saddle and rucksack down.

  He was thrilled to no end to see her. “Hey.”

  For a moment, he feared she’d be put off by how wet and muddy he was. She wasn’t. In fact, she embraced him strongly and then kissed him. There were no words spoken, only action, which consisted of her pulling him toward the furs while unbuttoning his shirt. Pierce couldn’t think of a better homecoming.

  * * *

  Jaxton stared out the window of his hotel room, watching the rainfall that was visible in glowing lines through the gas street lamps lining the road below.

  Thunder cracked loudly, and for a moment, the lightning illuminated everything for miles.

  He reached under his unbuttoned shirt and rubbed his bare chest. His heart was beating normally, but the stiffness in his chest muscles was caused by the stress he had endured these past few days.

  No good deed goes unpunished.

  That was what had run through his head constantly throughout the entire excursion. He regretted getting involved. Then again, if he hadn’t stepped in to help that Englishman and the boy, they would’ve met a terrible end.

  During their chat at the Chinchilla Cantina, Jaxton had gotten the impression that Pierce was a decent sort of person, even a funny one who didn’t take himself too seriously. When the bloke drank the Rosemary Delight, it had
taken Jaxton everything in him to keep from falling over laughing. Seeing him wrongfully lynched was simply unbearable. He was only thankful Pierce had returned the favor by showing up at the courthouse.

  What a mess he’d started when he’d told the sheriff that Pierce was a bounty hunter. He thought he was giving Pierce the opportunity to run like hell. Then that crafty lawman tagged Pierce with his agreement.

  The only good thing to come of it was that Leonardo had kept his promise and stayed in Guaymas to watch over Jaxton’s wagon. Never in their three-year relationship had Jaxton ever requested such a heavy load from him. Yet Leonardo had gone above and beyond Jaxton’s expectations. He’d paid to have the wagon stored while Jaxton was gone and had secured their hotel room.

  He looked over at Leonardo sound asleep in their bed and smiled at him. Jaxton had never been the sort to place trust in anyone. His years of being a swindler had put a dent in his faith. Under any other circumstances, Jaxton wouldn’t let anyone oversee his snake oil wagon—his livelihood—but at the time he’d had little choice. If there was a silver lining in all this shit, it was that Jaxton had found true loyalty in his lover.

  He returned his attention to the window and sighed heavily.

  It also wasn’t wise for him to remain here for this length of time. He feared for what would happen if he was caught selling faulty products. If anyone wanted refunds, it could take a chunk out of his profits. He debated on whether he should leave or not and sever himself from the manhunt altogether. If he did, though, he wouldn’t be able to return to Guaymas as long as Sheriff Flores was around. That alone would cut into his yearly income considerably. He’d already discussed this with Leonardo, who told him he would be willing to stay in Guaymas if Jaxton chose to continue with the hunt.

  After wracking his brain over it, Jaxton decided the right thing to do was to finish cleaning up the mess he’d helped make.

  He crawled into bed and nestled against his lover without disturbing him.

  Jaxton fell fast asleep.

  * * *

  Emma treated herself to a long, soothing bath in the hotel’s bathhouse and sauna. The servant girl had recently delivered her towels and told Emma to ring the bell if she needed anything else.

  Her fight with Nata had left her battered and sore. Her eye had bruised into a shimmering purple and black color, her bottom lip had a painful split that stung at the touch, and she had deep red marks across her neck. Her spine ached from where she’d landed on it during the struggle. Although Emma had come out the winner, it was only due to sheer luck and quick thinking. Emma hoped she would never get into a physical altercation like that again. If the rest of the hunt was going to be so violent, she might not last.

  No, she couldn’t think that way. She’d done well in the face of danger, keeping a clear head throughout. Emma had held her own. She didn’t know she had it in her, and she’d felt herself grow as a person and a survivor. Pierce had praised her for her bravado after apologizing for letting her and Jaxton go off alone.

  Pierce.

  The thought of him melted her pains more efficiently than the steaming bathwater. She opened her knees, pressing them against the rim of the tub, and slid her hand over her aching womanhood. The bathhouse was vacant, and the hotel didn’t have as many guests now that the races were over. Emma had complete privacy.

  She shut her eyes and envisioned the Englishman lying beneath her as she straddled him. Every detail came into clear focus: his body—that firm body—moving underneath her. Him staring up at her, letting out pleasurable moans. Those green eyes of his traveling fondly over her naked form just as his rough and warm hands were. Her attention was eventually locked onto where they were joined, causing her to grunt with untamable lust.

  Emma felt it now, the crowning moment her fingers were bringing her to. And as she arrived, the warm release of powerful euphoria caused her to splash water out of the tub as her body spasmed. It rushed through her and she called out Pierce’s name, not caring if anyone heard her. For a time, she lay there, moaning contentedly.

  When Emma returned to her hotel chambers, she put on her new dress. Emma was never the vain type, but she felt fortunate to have been blessed with a natural beauty that appealed to a lot of people. People responded to a pretty face more favorably than an ugly one, and although not a narcissist by nature, she had to admit how beautiful she looked in the dress. The simple yet elegant Tabasco dress was seductive in color and decorated with black patterns. The collar was cut low, and the front hem reached halfway down her legs.

  With this gown, Emma would persuade Pierce to leave his wife and join her on marvelous adventures. They would build machines and tinker with new technologies. She had noticed how fascinated he was with the merchandise in the doohickey shop. Together, Emma Rojas and Pierce Landcross would journey steadfastly into the industrial awakening!

  * * *

  Itza-chu had dinner with his father, mother, sister, and brother-in-law inside his parents’ hogan. He told them everything that had happened thus far during the manhunt.

  “You’re doing well, my son,” Chief Victorio praised him. “The Great Spirit is smiling down upon you.”

  “You have an idea of the whereabouts of this third man?” his mother asked.

  Itza-chu hadn’t told them the location of the post office where the Spaniard had sent his telegraphs. He dreaded telling them.

  “We do,” he answered simply.

  “Where?” Nascha pressed.

  He chewed slowly and said with a mouthful of half-eaten food, “El Parral.”

  Waves of Strength nearly choked on the cider she was drinking. Chief Sea Wind looked up with an expression of dread from his bowl of soup, while Nascha simply stared at him unblinkingly. The only part of his father that moved was his chest as he breathed in deeply.

  “El Parral,” his mother finally spoke while standing. “That town is close to the old broken trail the tribe followed on our journey here. It leads to the Fire Field.”

  “Yes, Mother,” he said grimly. “The Fire Field.”

  “Only evil resides there,” she continued. “You cannot go.”

  “I swore an oath, Mother.”

  He shifted his attention to his sister, who narrowed her eyes at him.

  “To whom did you swear this oath?” Nascha inquired. “To that white man, Landcross? You owe him nothing and therefore should not risk your life and sanity for him.”

  “He swore the oath to me, Mother,” Waves of Strength finally joined in. “I told Itza-chu to watch over Landcross.”

  “How could you demand such a thing from your brother, Ela?” their mother seethed. “You remember when we traveled through the Fire Field. How horrible it was.”

  “And we made it through,” Chief Victorio spoke up. “Do you remember, wife?”

  Chief Victorio had always had his own way of dealing with certain matters. He would pause before reacting to critical news, letting the information seep in like water into stone. In doing so, he was able to process things clearly and work out a solution before making any rash decisions. That technique had benefited the tribe for years.

  Nascha regarded him angrily.

  “Yes, I remember. But we also had no choice, and we had no idea what was in the Fire Field in those days.”

  “But we do now,” he argued calmly. “Knowledge we can pass down to our son.”

  “What is it?” Itza-chu demanded. “What exactly happened to the tribe out in the Fire Field?”

  Desperate for an answer, he looked to Chief Sea Wind. He only shrugged, which came as no surprise, for he was a sea-bound spirit who had never been but a few miles inland in his entire life.

  “It was many years ago,” Nascha began, slowly sitting back down. “You were just an infant, and your sister only a child. We were migrating from Chihuahua after fleeing from the troubles there.”

  Itza-chu knew the story of why his parents and others had split from the rest of the tribe. Since the eighteenth century, th
e Mexicans and Spaniards had been in conflict with the Apache people, driving them farther south as they followed buffalo herds. Itza-chu’s father and uncle fought the Mexicans in the 1820s, but the war only got worse in Chihuahua, which prompted Chief Victorio to leave with his wife and young children. At the time, his father wasn’t a chief. Victorio’s older brother was. Regardless, it wasn’t long before the cluster of Apache who’d decided to follow Chief Victorio started to look upon him as their leader. They made their journey west toward the coast, where they eventually established a peaceful settlement.

  “We lost many to the Fire Field,” his mother explained. “The sandstorms broke up the group several times and we never found most of those who were separated. Others choked to death on the sand or went blind. The worst of it was when someone stepped on a fire spot. To this day, I wake up with nightmares of those who perished in such a horrific way.”

  Itza-chu shuddered as if an icy creature was running its frigid fingers up his spine. He’d heard about the fire spots. Travelers who were unfortunate enough to step on one during a sandstorm were usually quickly engulfed in flames.

  “We will make it through fine, Mother,” Itza-chu tried to console her. “We have masks with air tanks and compasses to keep us on track.”

  “That means little to me, my son,” his mother chided him. “You must break your oath and stay clear of the Fire Field.”

  Nascha usually had a smile, and she always showed kindness. Seeing her in this angry and assertive state scared him a little. He turned to his sister—the one who had gotten him involved—and waited for her to argue with their mother. She offered only a shrug.

  Itza-chu was alone in this debate. In truth, it would be wiser for him to bow out while he was still alive and unscathed. Not to mention his mother was right. He owed Landcross nothing—not his company, not his protection, and certainly not his life. At the same time, he had come to like the white man. He had braved a mob threatening to hurt Tarak when he could have simply walked away. Itza-chu suddenly found himself torn.