A Town Called No Hope (A Steampunk Western)

by Izzy Hunter

  ‘Good morning,’ he said, dutifully. His accent not at broad as his brother’s back in No Hope. ‘I am sorry for your loss,’ he went on. ‘If you can give me the measurements of the recently deceased, I will be able to help you further.’

  ‘Hell man, nobody’s died,’ Sam said, looking at the coffins with an unnerved eye.

  ‘I don’t quite understand,’ the undertaker faltered, looking for an explanation as he looked at the other two.

  Mona stepped forward. ‘Mr Reedus, I’m the Sheriff of the town of No Hope.’

  ‘Sheriff?’ said the undertaker, looking her up and down. ‘How... odd.’

  ‘And I have reason to believe your nephew, Matthew, is here in New Moray. Has you seen him recently?’

  The undertaker looked at her for a moment and then picked up a dirty-looking rag and started to wipe the counter with it in small, gentle circles. ‘Recently? No. The last time I saw Matthew, of course, when his poor mother passed away, god rest her soul.’ He made the briefest of frowns. ‘Why would Matthew come here?’

  Mona pondered whether or not to tell him about the bank robbery and the shooting. But Sam made that decision for her.

  ‘That goddamn kid stole money from the bank and shot the town’s deputy. Then the little coward ran away. The Sheriff here was told he’d mentioned coming here and seeing you.’

  The two men locked eyes. Then the undertaker gave in and exhaled sharply. ‘Yes, he was here. Arrived two days ago. The little brat wouldn’t tell me why he’d come, though. Just said he was sick of living with his father. I don’t blame him for that,’ he muttered. ‘But if what you say is true then I’m not going to lie for him. If he wants to end up dead-beat like my idiot brother then that’s his problem.’

  ‘Is he still here?’ Mona asked.

  The undertaker shook his head. ‘I sent him packing. Told him I could use some help with undertaking but he took one look at a corpse I was due to embalm and decided to go elsewhere.’

  ‘Where?’ It was Sam who spoke this time.

  ‘Number 26 London’s End,’ the undertaker told him. ‘Said he’d met a man on his travels who promised him some work in town if he needed it.’

  ‘Business booming here, is it?’ Sam asked. ‘That’s why you need two assistants.’

  The undertaker looked at him, confused. ‘Two assistants?’

  ‘The sign above your door. Says Reedus and Son,’ Sam explained.

  ‘Oh, that. No, I don’t have any children. Most places round here have the and son added, so I thought I’d do the same. No,’ he paused, and sighed. ‘It’s just me and the occasional mourner who takes pity on me and helps out with some duties.’

  ‘You just can’t get the staff these days,’ Mona said.

  ‘Oh, tell me about it,’ said the undertaker. ‘Don’t suppose any of you fine gentlemen are looking for work?’ he asked both Sam and Woods.

  Sam glanced at the coffins again and shook his head. ‘Sorry, no.’

  Woods gave the undertaker a genuinely regretful look. ‘I’m sorry, but I’m looking for a different career.’

  ‘Beggars can’t be choosers, son,’ the undertaker said.

  ‘I aint a beggar,’ Woods sniffed, his friendly demeanour tensing a little.

  Mona decided then and there it was best to leave the undertaker to it, before someone in the room needed one of the coffins, and continue their search for the boy. She thanked the undertaker for his help and the trio departed the store.

  Sam shivered as soon as he got outside but it wasn’t to do with the cool air. ‘Ugh, remind me never to set foot in an undertaker’s again,’ he murmured, as they began walking up the street.

  ‘Well, you will when you die,’ Mona reminded him.

  ‘Not me,’ he said firmly. ‘I’m getting left to the eagles and buzzards and insects.’

  Woods stopped in his tracks, staring at the other man. ‘But you have to get buried,’ he exclaimed.

  ‘Why?’ asked Sam. ‘What’s wrong with letting God’s fine creatures feed off my cold, dead carcass?’

  Mona looked at Woods to see what his reaction would be. The poor man looked ill. She linked arms with both men and led them onwards. ‘Come on, you two. Let’s go find Matthew.’

  26 London’s End, the address Reedus the undertaker had given them, was, to everyone’s surprise, a fair-sized theatre. It’s address was the name of the theatre, the letters emblazoned above the double doors in golden lettering.

  Sam gave it a dubious look. ‘He did say 26, didn’t he?’ he asked the others.

  ‘That’s what I heard,’ said Woods, watching as a group of attractive young women walked past them and into the theatre. From the look of their frocks, they were probably dancers of the theatre. ‘Do we go in?’ asked Woods, still staring at the women through the glass doors.

  ‘Hell yeah,’ Sam said, his eyes on the women, too.

  Mona looked from one man to the other, and then raised her gaze to the heavens. ‘Typical men,’ she muttered, leading the way into the theatre.

  The foyer was near empty, apart from a grey-haired, grizzled-looking man who was busy cleaning one of the four pillars. He glanced round at the sound of the doors closing and nodded at them before resuming his cleaning. The gaggle of dancers disappeared up a narrow set of stairs leading off to the left of the foyer.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Mona began, walking towards the man since he was the only person around. The man sighed loudly and dropped his cloth into the bucket of murky-brown water at his feet. He turned round, his gaze making a bee-line for Mona’s chest. The disappointment to find it covered with a thick warm coat was etched on his already-wrinkled face.

  ‘How can I help you, ma’am?’ the man asked in a nasally voice.

  ‘We’re looking for a boy, name of Matthew Reedus.’

  A frown greeted her words and then the man nodded. ‘Ah, yeah. The kid. He’ll be on stage -’

  ‘On stage? Like performing?’ asked Sam.

  The man gave him a cold stare. ‘Like cleaning. You can tell him to get his lazy ass here once he’s done and polish the doors.’ With that command, the man picked up the bucket and headed through one of the doors leading off from the foyer.

  ‘Pleasant fella,’ Sam mused, and then walked across to the door the cleaner had nodded towards. He pulled it open and stepped aside with a flourish. ‘After you, ma’am,’ he said to Mona, bowing slightly. For her part, Mona dipped her head in acknowledgement and swept through the doorway, followed closely by Woods and then Sam.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The theatre itself was swathed in darkness. The only light came from a row of gas lamps running the length of the wide stage. Just like the cleaner had said, Matthew Reedus was visible, sweeping the stage with a broom that made him look smaller and younger than his fifteen years.

  ‘Matthew?’ Mona called out into the emptiness, her voice echoing slightly.

  ‘Yeah?’ the boy replied, looking up from his work. Mona waited for a response but the boy just stood there, expectantly. And then she realised; they couldn’t be seen in the gloom. She signalled for Sam and Woods to walk down the far sides of the vast room, keeping to the shadows until they reached the boy. Once Mona made herself known to him, Matthew would surely try to flee.

  Once the two men were standing to the sides of the front of the stage, Mona called out again. ‘Matthew, it’s Sheriff Mona from No Hope. I’ve come to take you home.’

  Just as she’d predicted, Matthew tried to flee. He let go of the broom, the handle clattering to the floor as he headed towards the exit at the side of the stage. Luckily, Mr Wood was standing near and caught Matthew with both arms.

  ‘Argh, get off me!’ Matthew yelled, and then his voice was muffled as Woods clamped a hand over the boy’s mouth and started dragging him up towards Mona.

  ‘Stop your hollering,’ Woods hissed, struggling with the gangly boy.

  Reaching Mona, and Sam who had walked back up the theatre aisle, Woods let the boy go. There
was a moment’s pause when it wasn’t clear if Matthew would try to make a run for it again. But to his credit, he stood before the three adults, defiance in his demeanour as he glared at all three. His expression changed to surprise when he realised it was his teacher that had manhandled him. ‘Mr Woods?’ he said, the surprise evident in his voice.

  ‘That’s right, Reedus,’ Woods answered, giving him a stern look. ‘You got some explaining to do, boy.’

  Matthew looked next to Sam but, not recognising him, moved onto Mona. ‘I am sorry for shooting at you, Sheriff. But I needed the money and you were going to stop me.’

  ‘It’s not your money to take, Matthew,’ Mona told him. ‘And you didn’t shoot me. You shot my deputy.’

  The boy’s eyes widened in alarm. There was a general fear of Henry amongst the younger inhabitants of No Hope and Matthew Reedus was no exception. ‘I… I didn’t kill him, did I?’

  Mona didn’t answer straight away. She wanted the little runt to sweat it out for a few moments. But Woods stole her thunder.

  ‘Deputy Henry is still alive and well, despite your best intentions,’ the teacher declared.

  ‘Thank the lord,’ Matthew muttered. ‘Look, I’ve not spent much of the money. Only for the journey and some food. That’s why I’m working here; to pay back the money I took.’

  ‘That’s considerate of you, Matthew,’ said Mona. ‘But you still need to come back and face the consequences. I’ll get word to Captain Northam that we’ve found you. We can be back in No Hope within the week.’

  ‘No, Sheriff,’ Matthew exclaimed. ‘Not tonight. Please! I want to stay and watch the play tonight. Please, Sheriff. I’ll come afterwards but please let me stay until after the play. Please!’

  The kid sounded so desperate that Mona almost crumbled there and then, her tough façade about to morph into motherly indulgence. But Sam brought her to her senses.

  ‘You don’t deserve any special treatment,’ he said, poking Matthew in the ribs. ‘You shot a man.’

  ‘It’s a very serious crime,’ added Woods.

  ‘I know,’ Matthew answered. ‘And I am truly sorry. I really am. If I could change things, I would. But I can’t. All I’m asking is for a couple more hours, then you can arrest me and do with me whatever you will.’

  Three pairs of eyes watched Mona intently, waiting for her response. ‘Alright, one night. But I’m going to have Sam stay here with you until I return.’

  ‘Where you going?’ Sam and Woods asked in unison.

  ‘I’m going to get Mr Woods here a job,’ she explained then, seeing Matthew’s confused face, added: ‘I’ll let Sam here explain. Come along, Woods.’

  Mona and Woods left the theatre and walked leisurely through the large town, taking the chance to view things not afforded to them back in the smaller No Hope; a well-kept public park with a mermaid fountain in the centre; numerous luxury stores selling everything from men’s clothing to musical instruments. Mona would have liked to have moved here when she and Henry arrived from England but it was best they settle down in a small, out-of-the-way place while the dust settled.

  ‘Thank you for helping like this, Sher - Mona,’ Woods said, correcting himself as they wandered along a row of two-level houses. ‘I would have perfectly understood if you’d just left me to wallow in my own self-pity back in No Hope.’

  ‘Don’t thank me yet,’ Mona replied. ‘There’s no guarantee the Fixer can help, or even want to help. He can be quite fickle when he wants to be.’

  ‘Ah,’ was all Woods said to that.

  ‘But,’ she added, trying to cheer him up. ‘We’ll never know either way unless we ask.’ She glanced across at him and noted his optimistic expression.

  They ventured onwards as the houses and buildings became sparser. To their left, ran a tall, paint-cracked wooden fence. Mona and Woods followed it until they came to a door which had a small, sliding panel fixed in three quarters of the way up.

  ‘This is where the Fixer lives?’ asked Woods, trying not to look too disparaging as he took in the state of the fence. ‘So, do we just go in?’ he went on.

  ‘Not if we value our lives,’ Mona told him. She raised a hand and rapped sharply on the door. Hopefully someone on the other side would hear and they wouldn’t have to stand there for too long.

  As it was, they only had to wait a matter of seconds before the panel slid open and they found themselves staring at the end of a gun.

  ‘Who’re you?’ a rasping voice demanded. ‘What you want?’

  ‘I am Mona Miller of No Hope and this is Mister Woods of the same,’ declared Mona. She thought it best not to call herself Sheriff, or else this guard would not let them enter. ‘We’re come to discuss a job opportunity with your master.’

  ‘Stay there.’ The gun vanished and the panel was slammed shut all in the space of a second.

  ‘Pleasant man,’ joked Mona, turning and leaning against the fence. Woods stood opposite, fidgeting with his fingers.

  ‘So may I ask how you know this gentleman?’ he asked. There was a slight reluctant tone to his voice as if he was afraid of the answer.

  ‘He helped Henry and I get across here. To the new world, I mean,’ she admitted.

  ‘So he’s from England, too?’

  ‘Via Siam.’

  ‘Ah, a china man?’

  ‘In appearance only.’ She left Woods to puzzle that one out, casting a glance at the grey clouds heading in from the east. She hoped the rain would stay off.

  When the gate was eventually opened, Mona and Woods had resorted to a game of I-Spy to pass the time.

  ‘In,’ growled the same voice as before. Ever the gentleman, and being something of a coward, Woods allowed Mona through first.

  Looking around for the owner of the voice, Mona was confronted by a small man who couldn’t have been more than four foot tall. He had a thin layer of sandy-blond hair and a don’t-mess-with-me air to him, despite his small stature. She briefly wondered how the man had managed to look through the panel, but then saw a set of steps attached to the other side of the door and wondered no longer. Woods entered the yard with his hands up, even though the gun was pointed to the ground.

  While the man closed the door again, Mona quickly lowered Woods arms and looked round the yard. To all intents and purposes, it looked like a typical scrap merchant’s yard, with various bits of wagons, brick, stones, leads, etc, piled around the muddy enclosure. At the far side of the area was a small one-level building which carried a sign declaring it was, indeed, a scrap merchant’s, over it.

  ‘Come.’ The little man began walking towards the building, confident enough not to turn around and check he was being followed.

  ‘I’m not sure about this,’ hissed Woods, walking just a little behind Mona.

  ‘Stop worrying,’ Mona whispered back. ‘Just let me do the talking.’

  Reaching the building, their guide entered the sparse store and waited until Mona and Woods had joined him. Then with one well-practised motion, pulled aside the large, bristled mat on the floor next to the counter. A trapdoor was revealed in the floor. The small man pulled the circular handle and grunted with effort as he pulled it to one side.

  Mona sensed Woods take a step backwards, and turned, grasping his arm firmly to prevent him from bolting. The other man began descending a set of steps leading downwards. Mona pulled Woods forward, making him go second, reassuring him everything would be all right and that there appeared to be light below so he wouldn’t slip in darkness. Reluctantly, Woods disappeared below.

  Once Mona reached the bottom of the steps which were lined by dim light bulbs set into the walls, she felt as if she was in familiar territory, despite never having visited the Fixer’s New Moray residence before. Just like his last abode, in the heart of London city, this appeared to be a warren of tunnels with identical doors and dead ends. The small man appeared to have gained a gas lantern and held it aloft as he wound through the maze-like corridors with ease. Fearing they would lose
sight of him and take a wrong turn, both Mona and Woods made sure they were never more than a foot behind him.

  It seemed to take quite a while to traverse the underground area, so much so that Woods felt compelled to comment that these corridors must run under most of the town above. Mona thought that she wouldn’t have been surprised if that was the case.

  Finally, when it looked like they’d be wandering around aimlessly forever, the small man came to a stop in front of a nondescript wooden door. He told Mona and Woods to stay there and entered, slamming the door too quickly for either Mona or Woods to catch a glance at the room beyond.

  The walls mustn’t have been too thick as voices, albeit muffled ones, could be heard immediately. One had the now-familiar guttural tone of the small man. The other voice was lighter, higher in pitch and, by the sounds of it, getting louder and angrier.

  ‘Look, I really appreciate this,’ Woods said hurriedly. ‘But I don’t think we’re welcome here. Let’s just leave and think of something else.’