Bella

by Michael Conley

  “Ain't a thing you can fix,” Wasco said. “Or control. Least ways not right now. Reckon we all got our monsters. You get a chance to earn clear of yours. Can't blame a man fer that. So, you helpin’ me and comin’ along. I know that little bit I offered ya ain't what a gunman of your reputation should make. You took it ‘cause you had to?”

  Jacob said, “I did. The shaman elder said I needed to help those of Native blood and take the blood of evil men. When the Wendigo’s thirst is sated, it will leave me. You said you had Native blood. Simple enough from there. Plus, you weren't too much of an ass.”

  “Girl, you got anything to say?” Wasco asked.

  “I saw you,” I said. “In the fight at the fort, I saw you. You saved me. I was scared, and it weren't pretty what you did, but you clearly went after the guys that were about to shoot us. I was just as close as they was. Easier target even. I figure it don’t matter how you did it. You lived and yer here with us again. We'll just keep findin’ ya Natives to help.”

  That was the end of it. He hugged me; I hugged him back, even though I wasn't much for all that hugging. Made me feel weird. But I hugged him, he cried, and we moved on.

  Sitting at the small table at Ying’s, Li's absence was more evident. He would normally be shuffling around the shop in his little slippers doing this and that while everyone talked, piping in here or there. Now he was gone. I looked up at the sword sitting in the corner and smiled. No, not gone, I thought.

  Ying had sent a boy to find me and asked me to come see her. Ma had not been home since we got back a few days ago, and I had not heard from her. I was hoping Ying had heard something. She had.

  “Christopher,” she began, “I have news from the mines about your mother.”

  I knew what she was going to say before she said it. I didn't cry. I think I had already known. I think I knew before we left. Ying gave me the package from Keaton Industries. It had a nicely typed letter, a few coins that were her pay, and a payment for my pain and suffering. Her belongings were wrapped up in the bottom of the package. A few head scarves, a dress, some cheap jewelry, a small vial of stinky perfume, and a photo of me.

  There wasn't anything else to do. There was no body to burn because she had died in a cave in. Nobody really knew who owned our tiny house, so it was just mine I supposed. Just like that I was an orphan. But I guess I really had been since Pa had left for the Empire. Ma always cared for me, but she was never the same. Now it had just become official.

  I stayed with Ying for the next week while I let everything sink in and my leg heal some. By week’s end I was limping down my cramped, smelly ally. The same way I had not so long ago when Wasco first came out of the mountains rolling up to the gate. The blanket that had been my door was gone. That was okay, I could get another. They probably needed it. Inside some snow had blown in, but nothing else was missing. The old canvas bag was still lying on the bed where I had left it. I went over and took the spyglass out of my belt and slipped it back into the bag. Then I pulled it back out and tucked it back into my belt. I started looking through the bag but just lost interest. It was bits of a family I didn’t really know. A past that was so far away now it might have belonged to someone else. I climbed into the bed and slept.

  I let the other orphans stay in the house whenever they wanted, and some nights I stayed at Ying’s. She always asked me to stay for good, but I always said no and went back to my one-room shack. Time crept by with nothing happening to mark the amazing adventure that had swept me in its wake. Nothing marked the passing of my ma from this earth, the world just kept on as if nothing had changed. As if Wasco, Jacob, and I had not walked into the Blacklands and found it full of monsters. It was my first real understanding of how little the world cared about our wars and concerns, it just kept going.

  I walked into Ying’s shop a month or so later to the usual musical clinking of bamboo chimes. Wasco and Jacob greeted me. A warm smile and a hug from Jacob and what in Wasco terms was a face-splitting smile that to most people looked like the corner of his mouth twitched.

  “How ya doin’ kid?” Wasco asked.

  “Better than you it smells like,” I said and pinched my nose.

  “Reckon so,” he said. “Been on the trail. Came back as soon as we figured it all out.”

  “Figured what out?” I asked nodding at the papers strewn over the table.

  “What do they say?”

  “They say there was a lot of them animal-man things made in that place. Hundreds, maybe thousands,” Wasco growled.

  “Couldn't have been that many, camp weren't big enough,” I said.

  “Exactly Topher. So, the question is, where are they?” Jacob said.

  “So, where are they? I asked. “They're pretty easy to spot ya know?”

  Wasco said, “Yeah, unless they ain't nowhere to be spotted by anyone that would care. We told Keaton where to get his airship, but not till after we got a look in it ourselves.”

  “Wait. You went back there without me?”

  Wasco said, “Yeah kid, we did. And we might again. It was spur-of-the-moment. ‘Sides, I can’t take you every time I go, can I?

  I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t say anything.

  “We went and told Keaton 'bout what we found, agreed to lead his boys to the ship,” Wasco said.

  “When we were close enough Wasco took off in the night to get a look at the ship before they did,” Jacob said.

  “Found these. Shipping manifests,” Jacob said. They were not detailed, but they definitely show that the ship was selling something to people in the Empire. High-ranking people.”

  “Only them pompous asses use titles like that,” Wasco added, pointing at a page.

  “Best we can figure, is that they were making those things to sell to the Empire,” Jacob said.

  Wasco said, “I got a feelin’ that Keaton knows somethin’ more than he was lettin’ on, too. I ain't convinced that Bull coulda stolen away an airship and Keaton would leave it be for so long. Somethin’ smells like manure to me.”

  “That Bull McCain was dressed awful nice for a bandit in the wilds of the Blacklands, that's for sure. Silver buttons, shiny boots,” Jacob said.

  It hit me like a kick to the gut. I dug into my pocket and took out the little silver button I had found at Keaton's place. I looked at it, and then tossed it on the table.

  “That's one of them fancy buttons Bull had on his shirt,” I said.

  They looked at me, but nobody said anything. They probably never got a chance to see them, what with me setting him on fire and all that.

  “It's one of Bull's buttons, you chuckleheads! But I didn't get it off him; I got it from Keaton's place! It was on the floor in that lift thing!”

  Ying looked up from her work. Wasco and Jacob both looked from me, then at each other, and back to me.

  “Ya sure girl?” Wasco asked.

  “Course I'm sure! I know where I steal stuff from!”

  “Sonofabitch.” Wasco said.

  “Son of a bitch indeed,” Jacob echoed.

  Thank you for reading! If you like the book, please leave a review on Amazon and Goodreads. Even if you don’t like it, please still leave a review.

  Michael Conley is a veteran of the Desert Storm who has been telling stories in one form or another for his whole life. When the disabilities that came with his service threatened to limit his ability to do the outdoor work he enjoyed, he decided it was time to write some of the stories down.

  He has his BA in Studio Art, with a focus on welded steel sculpture and pencil drawing, and now on the written word.

  He's published short stories in the Urban Fantasy, Western Fantasy, Sci Fi and Fantasy genres.

  He lives and writes on ten acres in Ohio with the woman of his dreams in the home of his dreams and as many dogs as he can manage.

  You can follow Michael on Facebook at Michael Conley, author.