The Turner Chronicles Box Set Edition

by Mark Eller

  "Two silver seven full gold quarter is not enough," Aaron told him firmly. "The few Mister Bronson has sold in the east have all been for the full price, and I won't make it less. Besides, it cost me more than two and seven to buy the knife." The hair on the back of his neck prickled. "If you want it so badly I'll consider a trade, but I refuse to take a loss."

  "Two and seven gold I offered," Beech said, "and two and seven you will take, or I will find some other way to get what I want." Eyes threatening, he held up the Stone.

  Aaron tensed. His legs trembled, and his hands shook. If the wagon master carried through with his implied threat more people than Aaron would get hurt. At the very least, Cathy would be damaged in some way and the knife in question only cost a bit over ten real dollars on the other side. Mouth dry, he started to reach inside his apron pocket. Beech's expression changed.

  "Is there a problem here?" Sarah Townsend stood just inside the doorway, her hand carefully near her sword, yet not quite touching it. Three armed women were evenly spread just behind her.

  Aaron gave her a sickly smile. "No problem. Mister Beech was bargaining for a knife."

  "No, he wasn't," Cathy corrected. "He threatened Mister Turner. Mister Turner was so angry his face turned red, and his hands shook. If you hadn't shown up I don't know what would have happened." Eyes large with fear and excitement, she gave Beech a look of pure loathing.

  Beech turned a hard stare on Sarah. "The Storeman has the right of it, Marshal. We was only bargaining. The young lady read more into our argument than was there." The Talent Stone had disappeared from his hand. He nodded to Aaron. "We'll speak on this matter later." Moving without haste, he pushed past Sarah and the others.

  Face expressionless, eyes filled with barely restrained violence, Sarah turned to watch him leave. "Walk easy around him, Mister Turner," she said. "There is very little I can do to him while he carries that Stone."

  "I was going to give him the knife," Aaron said. "Cathy, I was scared. That's why I shook."

  "No it wasn't," Cathy instantly said. "You were mad. I could see it on your face, and so could he. You frightened him, Mister Turner. You would never have given him the knife. I could see it in you."

  "I thought you were going to tear into him," one of the women said. "Never seen such rage in a man. Aye, you may be small, Mister Turner, but I never want to get on the wrong side of you."

  Totally mystified by this seeming conspiracy of mistaken impressions, Aaron just stared at them.

  "You are all crazy," he insisted. "I was scared silly. I would have rolled over and died if he had asked it of me."

  Sarah nodded slowly. Her fury gone, she wore the most serious expression Aaron had ever seen on a person.

  "Then tell me, Mister Turner, why is your hand inside your apron? We all know you carry some kind of weapon in there."

  Aaron quickly pulled his hand from the apron pocket and tried to remember when he had put it there. He brushed at his apron nervously, straightening its lines to hide the bulge of a gun.

  "And you, Miss Bayne, are not so mild of temper yourself," Sarah continued. "Could you please give me the sword? I recently paid Mister Turner for it so the sword belongs to Last Chance now."

  Sheepishly, Cathy handed the sword over to the Marshal. Aaron had not even known she held it. "I don't know what I would have done with it," she confessed. "I probably would have hurt myself."

  "Probably," Sarah agreed dryly, giving Cathy a speculative look. "I think you and I are going to become much better acquainted. We had best work on getting to know each other."

  "I agree," Cathy said simply.

  "Later then." Sarah turned to the women standing behind her. "Let's go see where our favorite spot of trouble is heading."

  "What was that all about?" Aaron asked after Sarah and the women left, but he received no answer because Billy Haig came clomping into the store, fingers scratching at his unkempt beard.

  "I know 'zactly what I need. Figure it'll take me 'bout an 'our to collect it all together."

  "That will be fine," Aaron told him.

  Clomping even louder, Billy left, and Aaron turned his gaze back to Cathy.

  "It's something women know," Cathy said. "Sometimes we just realize we have a lot in common, and it would be a good idea to learn to like one another." Wearing a slight smile, she began humming while she lifted a dust rag and used it to wipe down the already clean countertop, totally ignoring Aaron.

  Flustered and confused, he walked outside the store and went to the chandler's old store. He smiled halfheartedly when he saw the table and chairs and the mostly empty shelves. The room obviously needed more than the few books piled on two of the shelves. A chess set would look good in the center of the table. As he recalled, there was a woman down to the quarry who made boards and carved men. He would talk to her. Perhaps he would get a couple side tables and some lamps and some rugs too. Maybe he could even put up a couple paintings. The Traveler's Rest had a few paintings so he guessed Flo knew where he could get those.

  Since he wasn't really enjoying the book he had waiting for him at Flo's, he sat down in a chair placed before the bookshelves and reached behind him to randomly grab a new book without bothering to look at what it was.

  Frowning, Aaron turned the book in his hands and wished this wall had better light. He definitely needed a table here, one with a reading lantern on it. Hands stilling, he looked at the book he held, made out that it was a basic grammar, and his frown grew deeper. To the best of his knowledge he did not own a basic grammar.

  Turning to look closer at the shelves, he saw at least two dozen books he had never seen before. Opening the grammar, he leafed through the pages. The pages were worn; some were torn, and the back cover had a name written in large letters on the inside. Heddy Bayne.

  Firmly closing the book, he put it back where he had found it. That book and the others belonged to Cathy. They were her legacy from her mother. One small mystery solved, but another remained. Now, why would Cathy put her books on his shelves?

  "Mamma taught me from that book."

  Startled, Aaron looked up. For some reason beyond his comprehension he felt guilty. He felt like the proverbial little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

  "Oh, hello, Missy."

  Missy stepped through the open door. "I hope you don't mind that I snuck the books in here. They are too special for me to let them just get ruined. Our roof is almost gone, and I didn't want Mamma's books to get rained on."

  "Ruined? Rained on?" Aaron stared with sudden understanding. A few matters hinted at before were becoming clear to him. "Missy, exactly where do you live?"

  "A little way south of town." Missy came in and sat in one of his new chairs. Resting her elbows on the table, she laid her chin in her hands. "The bandits tried to burn it down during the raid but it only burned a little. Most of the roof fell in a few months ago."

  "It was winter a few months ago." Aaron was horrified.

  "Uh-huh. It wasn't so bad. Cathy hung blankets around the stove and put a sort of roof over it too. We were warm as long as the blankets stayed up and we had lots of wood. Doyle cried some at first though. That got on my nerves. At the time I wanted him to just leave so I could have some quiet, but I guess I'm going to miss him now."

  "Miss him," Aaron blurted, alarmed. "What happened to Doyle? He was here just yesterday."

  "Oh, he's fine." Smiling, Missy lifted her head. "I talked to Mister Bran today, and he said he'd teach Doyle smithing. Said Doyle would be his apprentice and live with him and his Mistresses, them having no living children at home. Isn't that great? Doyle is young enough that before long he'll think of the Brans as his parents." Smile fading, her face sobered. "I want him to have parents. Every kid needs some."

  Aaron regarded her sadly. "You are not exactly a kid anymore, are you?"

  She shook her head no. "I try. It helps Cathy if she thinks she allowed me to stay young, but no, I'm not a kid anymore. I can't be. Not when we nee
d the money I bring in sometimes. Did you know I have something of a job? Well I do. Mister Bran wants me to teach him to read and write in exchange for taking in Doyle. That's why I came here--to ask you a favor."

  "Miss Bayne," Aaron said feelingly, "I'll give you any favor you desire." He felt like crying. Was he a blind idiot? How could he not have known they had lived with such deprivation? It was obvious they were poor, but a lot of people were poor. Still, there was a difference between poor and destitute. There was a huge difference, and he should have seen it.

  "Don't you Miss Bayne me," she chided. "I'm not old enough for being called Miss. Call me Missy."

  "Okay, Missy, what is this favor you want?"

  "Mister Bran doesn't really have enough spare room for me to set up and teach him. Could I use this room for an hour or so after you close up?"

  Aaron studied the gangly child. Her face was a mixture of anxiety, determination and trepidation. Missy had come directly to him instead of going through her older sister. Past experience told him that she had courage and integrity, that she was responsible right to the inner core. Aaron had not missed the subtext. Missy had made the arrangement for Doyle. She had reached an agreement with the smith, and she was now taking steps to ensure that she did the best she could to fulfill that agreement. He supposed Missy was a gutsy kid. In a few years she would be one hell of a woman.

  "Of course you can use it," he said. "Have you talked with your sister about this? Does she have any problems with the arrangements? She was supposed to teach Mister Bran, after all."

  "This isn't Cathy," Missy said. "This is me. Cathy took care of us for two years because we couldn't take care of ourselves. Well that time is over. I'm older, and I think she should have a life of her own. No, I'm going to do this whether she likes it or not."

  Her face was solid resolution. Aaron chose to ignore the single tear glistening on her cheek.

  "We got the clothes and the food while she went around in rags and starved because she gave us her share more often than not. Some people helped us. A few gave us their scraps, only we wanted to work for what we got. We wanted to keep our pride. It was you who let us work for food and clothes. You gave us jobs and dignity. Since you hired us we have held our heads up, and we have paid cash for the things we need."

  Aaron was embarrassed. "Missy, truthfully I had no idea how hard up you were. None of you ever said anything about it. I'm willing to bet many of the townspeople were just as ignorant as me. Several months ago I asked Mayor Golard about you. She told me she thought you lived with somebody north of town. Maybe they all thought someone else had taken you in."

  Though he longed to reach out and draw the slim child into his arms, he did not because Missy would resist the attempt.

  "I can't believe that, sir. People ain't that blind. I think--" She stopped speaking as footsteps sounded on the boardwalk outside.

  "Gee thanks, sir," she misdirected as Cathy stepped into the building. "I really appreciate this." Glancing at her sister, Missy's smile falsely brightened. "Hi, Cathy. Guess what? I got Doyle an apprenticeship with Mister Bran. All he asks in exchange is that I teach him to read and write."

  * * *

  Slightly grunting when she pulled out a wobbly chair, Flo sat down at his table and looked intently into his eyes.

  "Bun told me you looked troubled so I thought I had best tell you that you needn't worry about that Mover. Word's been spread, and people are looking for him to come back. If he's in town you won't be alone. At least five of us will be nearby. You have neighbors, Mister Turner, and I hope we are good ones."

  Aaron chuckled humorlessly. "I'd forgotten all about him. It never occurred to me that Mister Beech should be one of my worries. Tell me Mistress Halfax, do you know where the Baynes are living?"

  Forehead furrowed in thought, she tapped a finger against her chin and then lowered her hand to the table. "Didn't somebody on the southwest side take them in? I think that's what I heard."

  Aaron shook his head no. "They've been living in their parents' burned out home, surviving on whatever Cathy and Missy could scrounge."

  "Oh, the Lady!" Flo exclaimed. "And here I thought they were let to run wild. This isn't right. This isn't right at all. Something is going to have to be done." She wrung her hands.

  "You have an inn, and they need a better place to sleep."

  Flo shook her head no. "The Lady knows I'd like to do that, but there's no way I can manage it. I'm barely keeping this place open as it is. If I lose a room to let I'll go under for sure. Besides, if I know those Bayne girls, they'll get their backs up if they think they are being given charity. Now mind you, I'm more than willing to give them a little help. I'm sure I can free up a half gold every few days, but they need more than that."

  "I agree," Aaron said. "I've been thinking on this. What if I buy a partial interest in your inn? I'll invest some money into renovations, hire musicians to play in the evenings, and bring in some drinks other than ale, something that women would be more likely to enjoy. If we change the lights, make them dimmer to provide privacy and light small candles on the occupied tables, more business should come to you in the evenings. Dinner fare could be changed, made fancier for only a little more cost to the customer. In exchange, you hire Missy. Give her a small wage and a room. She'll share the room with Cathy, of course. Charge them a minimal fee for the extra person. Just be sure to work Missy. She's one sharp girl, and her pride is rather daunting."

  "Has Bun talked to you?" Flo's face was a study of surprise and confusion.

  "No. As far as I know, she seldom speaks to anybody."

  "Well, Bun and me, we've been talking lately about selling out and moving east in a few years. Last Chance is nice but it misses a lot of the things a big city has to offer. If you want to buy the inn you can do what you want with it. Bun and I will run it for you for three years or until you say different. Missy should be old enough to handle things by the time we leave."

  Aaron nodded thoughtfully. He had enough silver stockpiled, brought over from Jefferson, to make the purchase easy no matter what the price. The General might not like the way he spent the silver since the money was earmarked for bribes and soldiers, but hey--what the General did not know…

  He nodded again. The money was there, and right was right.

  * * *

  Cathy was in a snit when Aaron returned to the store. Billy Haig had tried to make off with four books and a jar of peaches. He dismissed her protests, saying Aaron was more likely to believe the word of a full grown adult man like himself than a wee little snip of a girl who was no better than she ought to be. After giving her an insulting chuck under the chin, he started to slip the books under his shirt, at which time Cathy took the discussion from the verbal to the physical. Hauling back her leg, she kneed him in the crotch as hard as she could. While he was bent over she informed him that his thieving was NOT going to take place in THIS store, and he had best get busy doing the work he was being paid to do once he picked himself up off the floor.

  Aaron only found out about these events later. All he knew was that Billy was busy finishing the opening between the two rooms when Aaron returned from the inn. Cathy stood nearby, her eyes fastened darkly on Haig. If asked, Aaron would have sworn he saw storm clouds swirling above her head. She watched Haig work until the job was finished, leaving her station only to wait on customers, and then she shot Aaron an unforgiving glare when he gave Haig a small bonus for finishing the job ahead of time. After Billy left she told Aaron of the incident, but by that time it was too late. Billy was gone with the money.

  Just before closing, he went to the Traveler's Rest and escorted Flo to the bank where they transferred a title and signed papers that turned Aaron into an innkeeper. Mister Doland swore himself to secrecy and took seven copper for a transaction fee.

  Back at the store, Aaron was momentarily surprised to see Jorrin entering the sitting room, but then he remembered his offer to Missy. He looked in on them a couple times, b
ut the sight of giant, muscled Jorrin listening attentively to the child was more than he could take without laughing so he spent the early evening going through his catalogs and filling out orders for the inn. Tomorrow he would send somebody on horse to Burnridge. From there the order would be shipped by stage until it caught up to Bronson. In just a tad over three weeks Aaron would receive his supplies.

  When Missy finally finished teaching Jorrin for the evening, Aaron found himself sympathizing with the pain behind the hairy man's eyes. This type of work was entirely foreign to the smith. From all appearances Missy felt like she had just been through a major battle herself. She had a desperate, haunted look in her eyes.

  Jorrin provided Aaron with a surprise. Without saying a word, he reached into a sack he had carried over and brought out a chessboard. Apparently Missy had heard Aaron muttering about needing one so Jorrin gifted him with his set for the use of the room. The board was old and chipped, but it was serviceable and the two of them immediately sat down for a bout. Jorrin was a horrible player. His lack of skill and strategy was offset by Aaron's inexperience so they had a wonderful match. Sometime during the third game Cathy showed up with dinner. Fascinated, she sat down and watched them play. This led to her playing Jorrin while Aaron showed her the moves and a few simple combinations. Before she was finished Cathy had played the two of them several games each. She beat Aaron two games in a row.

  Defeated, Aaron leaned back in his chair and felt disgusted by his performance.

  "I've always been a quick study," she bragged. "I bet I'll win three out of four before two weeks go by."

  "No bet," Aaron told her. "I never have been much good at this game. Why don't you bet Jorrin?"

  "Mister Bran?"

  "I think not," Jorrin replied. "The Mistresses, they would hang me by my tripes if they thought I was taking advantage of you. They'll be meaner yet if I let a little snip of a thing beat up on me regular."