The Great Big Fairy (The Fairies Saga Book 4)

by Dani Haviland

  Wallace piped in, “I didn’t know you got trapped? I didn’t think it was big enough for you?”

  Jody groaned at the joke and James spoke up, “How about if I look at it? I saw a humane trap for foxes once. I might be able to adapt yours.”

  “Come on, men,” Jody said softly, “let’s see if three big men can figure out how to catch one verra intelligent raccoon. And if we canna figure it out, we’ll send fer ye, Leah.”

  Leah grinned at the compliment. “I’ll hold down the fort while you’re gone. Actually, I think I’ll claim a spot on your bed, if you don’t mind.”

  Jody pulled his neck back in mock indignation. “Mi casa es su casa, mija. Anything I have is yers. Help yerself.”

  28 Hey, There!

  J enny and Benji took their uncles for another walk, babbling idly as they meandered around the grounds. Ten minutes into their getting acquainted trek, Benji spotted six riders approaching at a fast clip, a cloud of dust kicking up and blowing ahead of the horde. “Come on Jenny; let’s take our uncles into the house. They dinna need to be breathin’ in the dirt,” he said with concern. But, it wasn’t the air quality that had him worried. There were too many people on horseback and riding in too fast to be bringing good news. “Here, on second thought, give him to me; I’ll take them both in. Run ahead and tell yer Grandpa and Da that we have visitors.”

  Jenny passed Raymond to him then sprinted toward the house, screaming, “Grandpa! Daddy!” at the top of her lungs. If they were within a quarter of a mile, they’d hear her.

  Ж

  Benji entered the house and handed one uncle to me, one to Leah, and nodded his head as he counted babies to make sure that my three and Leah’s were all here. “What’s wrong?” I asked seeing his dour expression. He hadn’t said a word, which was my first clue that something was amiss; he was always chatting. His lack of humor and furrowed brow were the other indicators.

  “I have this itchin’, crawlin’ feelin’ that somethin’s wrong with these men comin’ this way. How about ye, Leah?” he asked as he looked her way; he knew she had ‘the sight.’

  She had perceived the ill will, too. The uneasy look on her face was unmistakable: danger was imminent. “Um, do you have a gun?” she asked nervously, glancing at the door, looking for her little sister Jenny. “Mom, does Wallace carry his gun? I know James does; he never leaves home without his equalizer. These men are armed and emotional, Benji, so don’t be bashful about showing off what you have.”

  Benji patted his sporran in answer to the gun question. He opened it, pulled the contents from the top section, and set them on the sideboard. Then he lifted out the false bottom and took out the revolver, flipped out the chamber, made sure it was loaded, peered down the barrel checking for obstructions, popped the chamber back in position, and set the gun into his waistband. “And Jenny’s with her Da and Grandpa,” he said, making sure we knew she was safe.

  “Carhartts?” Leah asked, suddenly realizing that the pants he was wearing weren’t era correct.

  “Aye, yer the first one to say anythin’ about them. If anyone else noticed, they dinna mention it. Come to think of it, do ye have any extra knives around here?” he asked as he put his thumb in the self-fabric loop on the outside of his thigh. “I think I’ll dress up a bit. A little intimidation goes a long way, aye?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I said dryly, and grabbed the butcher knife out of the block, eyeing the carving fork, finally deciding he could take that, too. “Here, let them know you’re not afraid to carve ‘em up,” I joked, then laughed nervously.

  I didn’t have a gun, didn’t really feel comfortable with one, and wasn’t very hot on the idea of stabbing anyone either. But then again, with so many male kin around who could, would, and had taken care of me and my children, I didn’t feel the need to be armed.

  Jane walked in quietly from the surgery, not saying a word, but very aware of the tension. Benji could see the fear in her eyes that mirrored his own. “Janie, ye stay inside with the other women and the children. And dinna come out here unless I call ye; no one else, aye?” Benji commanded stressing the word I.

  “Aye,” Jane answered meekly, sniffing back a tear.

  Benji took two long steps over to her and gave her a hard kiss on the mouth. “It’ll be okay, I promise,” he said, and held her firmly by the shoulders. He turned back to look at Sarah, Leah, and me, making sure we had our end under control. We all nodded in silent answer. He forced a smile, then went out the door to investigate the gathering of riders.

  Jane stood petrified. Her eyes followed Benji’s exit, then looked to me for direction. At first, I couldn’t understand why, and then realized that I was the first one here who had shown her friendship, treating her as a peer as we shared the chore of fetching refreshments, moments after she had arrived.

  Jane was idle—without a chore to perform—and in a new environment. The person she cared about most had just left to face a possible mob. Leah, Sarah, and I were all in our element and had our hands full with children and household responsibilities.

  “Can you sew?” I asked, hoping to distract her from the brewing commotion outside and the uneasiness inside. She nodded that she could. “Great, I could use a hand with some of this mending.” I saw the concerned—hell, terrified—look on her face, and told her, “Don’t worry, the men can handle anything that comes their way. We won’t be thinking about what’s going on out there if we keep busy…”

  I was interrupted by the ‘pop’ of a musket firing.

  “What the fu…?” Leah screeched as she bolted to the window to look for the source of the boom. “It’s okay. Some idiot either missed or just fired in the air, I guess.” At least, I don’t see anyone on the ground or grabbing his shoulder,” she said with a raised eyebrow to me.

  Leah had been my recovery room nurse last year when I had been shot in the shoulder with a musket ball, then sent back for a one-day hospital trip to the 21st century, courtesy of Master Simon. It was a lame joke and didn’t even get a groan out of me. “Get away from the window,” I said brusquely, “and shush. I want to hear what’s going on.”

  I pulled the door ajar and Sarah, Leah, and I gathered next to it, making sure we were out of sight. I looked back and saw Jane had practically become one with the back wall, a large, bas relief, black-fleshed and blue calico clad clump of wallpaper. “Good idea,” I whispered to her. “Better yet, sit on the floor in case they get close and look in a window.”

  I paused to think about what I was going to say next—which didn’t happen all the time, thinking first, that is. I made up my mind and decided to pose the delicate question anyway. “You’re not an escaped slave, are you?”

  Jane shook her head rapidly. “Benji has papers for me,” she said meekly. She shut her eyes tight in embarrassment and admitted uneasily, “He owns me.”

  “Yeah, well, he may have papers that say that, but I’ll bet you a million bucks—even if I don’t have it—that he does not feel like he owns you.” I ended my remark with a snort, “Hmph!”

  Jane could tell I meant what I said and nodded that I was right. At least, that was what Benji had told her even before he knew she could understand him. Even before they had kissed, he hadn’t felt like he could, or should, ‘own’ another person. It was the others out there who were the problem.

  Ж

  The group, all six of them white males, came to a halt in front of Jody and Benji, the two tall red headed guardians, their arms crossed in front of their chests in a united attitude of defiance. If Wallace and James were aware of the situation, they were keeping a low profile.

  The wind was coming toward us, so we could hear the confrontation. The fat man with the sweaty tri-corner hat smashed too far onto his head yipped more than barked his words. “Hey, there!” His squeaky voice tried to sound tough, but failed almost comically.

  He paused, and waited for the other horses to settle down, then started again. “We’ve come to take her back.” He shifted in his sadd
le, pushed the toes of his boots down into the stirrups, so he was actually standing up, trying to appear taller than he was. “The boss’s brother was killed by her, so she’s to be burned at the stake,” he shouted in his off-key soprano voice.

  “There’s no one here who doesna belong here,” Jody said, shoulders back, eyes squinted, as he studied the men, assessing their hunger for battle. It looked like Mr. Tinny-voice was in charge. Right now, words were the only weapons being used. The young man at the back of the group had dropped his musket to the ground, causing it to discharge. He hadn’t meant to fire, so that shot didn’t count. The lad was terrified and looked like he was about to piss his pants, either in fear, or in shame at his gaffe. Either way, he, too, was a threat because he would instinctively follow his leader, like a hungry cat after a rat through a burning briar patch. But, Jody knew these men were also joined together by a cause. Whether it was a righteous one or not, didn’t make a difference. They were a mounted, armed mob, fueled by a passionate pip-squeak of a man. Jody knew he would have to take him down a few notches. But first, he’d hear him out and let the joker supply him with intimidation ammunition.

  “We know she’s here. The old man down the road said that he sent him,” the mashed-hatted leader pointed to Benji with his chin, “to your place, Pomeroy. He told us he called himself your grandson. The old man said he saw him leave with the Negress.” The man changed from his accusing voice to a snide, belittling tone and added, “Holding her hand.”

  “Like I said, there’s no one here who doesna belong. Now, I’d appreciate it if ye’d leave jest as fast as ye came in,” Jody said with confidence and poise, hoping that there wouldn’t be any more gunfire, intentional or otherwise.

  “Oh, she’s here all right, and she’s a witch. I wasn’t there, but she hexed Samuel—that’s Mr. Jonathan’s brother-in-law—making him stab him, his own sister’s husband! We have witnesses! And she’s a thief, too. She stole the silver whiskey flask right out of the dead man’s jacket!” the ringleader shouted, his voice getting louder and higher pitched with each accusation.

  Benji stepped forward and addressed the petite prattler, ignoring all the others. “Weel, if ye arena a witness, then where are they? Ye see, I was there and I saw it all. The lass never laid a hand on anyone. It was me on the ground who Samuel was goin’ fer. If he hadna tripped and fallen over his own big feet, Mr. Jonathan would still be alive today.”

  Benji was supposedly explaining the scenario to the vigilantes, but was really using the revelation to relate what had happened to his grandfather. “So, if there had been a problem with her, if she was guilty of anythin’, the witnesses would have said so before they left. No, since there’s nothin’ but hearsay on yer part about poor Mr. Jonathan’s accident, I suggest ye all leave.” Benji slowly stepped back to stand next to his grandfather, spreading his shoulders wide to make sure the men saw his pistol, and realized that there were two very large men and one shiny gun they would have to overcome to get to the house.

  “And I don’t think that pointing that gun at them will do you any good,” James said, as he came out from the trees in front of and to the side of the riders. “Right, Wallace,” he said loudly, announcing his father-in-law’s presence to the trigger-happy horde.

  Both Wallace and James had seen the man readying his shot. The vigilante had used the younger man beside him to hide his waist high aim at Benji. When he heard James’s warning, he lay his pistol down across his lap, but kept the smug look on his face. He wasn’t going to give up his weapon—he’d just put it on hold until a more opportune moment arose.

  “Now I dinna think it very neighborly of ye to come to my house, armed to the teeth with pistols and muskets, accusin’ my guest of murder and witchcraft. So, I’m askin’ ye nicely now: turn around, go home, and if there’s any truth to yer story, we can have a trial. But, it willna be without every one of the witnesses who were there and the magistrate to hear the story. Now, good day to all of ye and farewell,” Jody said graciously, but with the tone that his dismissal of them was not up for discussion.

  Vernon was tired of hearing the banter. He wanted his boss’s murderess now. It had been a long time since he had a chance to use his whip, and his hands were yearning for the feel of its hilt, the wrist action of flicking the cat-o-nine tails, the tremor that passed up the strands when they impacted skin, breaking up and splaying bits of bloody flesh with each lash. If he shot from where he was, he was bound to hit one of the two big red headed men. Sure, there’d be a melee, but then he and the rest of the men could go right up to the house and find her. He had seen someone at the window, heard women talk and a baby cry. Yes, they were probably hiding that tall, murdering slave in the house with the women and babies.

  “If you raise that gun again, I’ll shoot first and ask questions later. Do I make myself clear?” James announced to the man who had lifted his pistol again, this time a scant four inches off of his lap.

  Vernon set his gun down gently, cut his eyes to his brother, the swiftly lifted the pistol, and pulled the trigger.

  Bang, pop: the two sounds were almost simultaneous.

  James fired his pistol. He had seen the twitch and eye signal. He knew the man was going to shoot, to try to hit either Jody or Benji. He probably didn’t care which one as long as he created chaos. Hopefully, he hadn’t waited too long.

  Benji and Jody ran for cover in opposite directions at the shots. Benji ran to the goat shed, his pistol drawn to cover his grandfather’s hasty retreat to the backside of the outhouse.

  Vernon had fallen forward, and now slumped over the horse’s bloody mane. His eyes were frozen, forever wide in shock at what he had last seen while alive; his own throat blown apart, the red fluid spurting out, his lust for another’s blood causing him to lose his own.

  The horse reared at the loss of his rider’s control and the shift in weight. Hal grabbed for the reins to subdue the high-strung steed as his brother’s corpse dangled from one side, the lifeless foot caught in the stirrup. The horse continued to rear up and dance around Vernon’s slack body, trying to rid itself of the awkward encumbrance, the smell of fresh blood like a hot poker up his nose. Hal finally jumped off his ride to free his fallen brother’s boot from the stirrup, to release the corpse tether, allowing the body to fall to the ground. Now Hal’s horse caught the scent of carnage and backed away frantically, pulling the reins out of his hand. All at once, both horses were gone, running back in the direction from where they had come, getting as far away from the smell of blood and death as their long legs and riderless backs could take them.

  Hal stood petrified in the midst of the unplanned calamity, slowly turning his head side to side. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

  “Now, I dinna want any more blood to be shed. Jest take the man’s body and get out of here.” Jody called out from behind his privy citadel. “If ye have a valid claim, send someone—unarmed mind ye—with a notice of when the magistrate wants the trial to be held. We’ll do this the right way, aye?”

  “Get him up on your horse,” squeaked the squatty leader to the young misfiring rider, instructing him to load Vernon, the dead would-be assassin, onto his horse. “And you double up with him,” he said, and pointed from Hal to the other slim built vigilante. He looked around to make sure his orders were being followed, then allowed himself the indignity of wiping his brow. He was sweating profusely with fear, partially blinded by the drops in his eyes. “We’ll deal with you later, Pomeroy. And your grandson, too, if he even is one.”

  “I’ll be sendin’ ye a bill fer the cleanup of the mess ye made here today,” Jody said as he walked out bravely and pointed to the bloody area on the ground. “And dinna be comin’ back here without papers from the magistrate, or yer the one who’ll be in court.”

  Benji walked up and stood next to his grandfather, watching the pathetic posse ride away, the two double-ridered hoses struggling to keep up with Master Toad’s swift retreating pace.

 
“Dinna ye think the magistrate might side with them, I mean, that he might be swayed a bit with them sayin’ a slave killed a man?” Benji asked softly before James and Wallace joined them.

  “No, no chance of that, lad,” he said with a chuckle. “Ye see, as of last week, I’m the new magistrate. Those idiots jest dinna ken it yet.”

  Jody looked over and saw that Wallace and James had paused in their short trek to join them. James was bent over at the waist, his hands on his knees, Wallace standing mute beside him a respectful six feet away.

  “Are ye ailin’ there, lad?” Jody asked as he rushed over to him.

  “Oh, God,” James said, then threw up. He wiped his mouth then kicked dirt into his mess. He looked up at his mentor and shook his head in embarrassment. “I didn’t think I’d ever have to shoot a human being and now I’ve killed two in one year. The first one, I’m ashamed to say, didn’t bother me. He really, really deserved it, and would have been dead in a few days anyhow, but him,” James paused and shook his head and looked over at the bloody area where the man had fallen.

  “Weel, if it was to be him, me, or Benji, then I’m glad it was him,” Jody said simply. “He was a bad man and was killin’ fer sport. Ye were killin’ to protect yer kin. I canna say that there’s a more honorable way to take a life. It was to protect yer own, aye?”

  “Aye,” James replied then looked over at both Benji and Jody in shock, suddenly realizing there was more to the incident. “Did he hit either one of you?” he asked in embarrassment. “I could have sworn he had a chance to get his shot off. I didn’t want to wait until the last moment, but…but…I thought I had, did.”

  Benji reached over with his right hand and pulled his shirt from away his left arm. “He ventilated my shirt a bit, but no harm done. Janie can fix it fer me. Oh, shit, I mean, excuse me.” He nodded quickly to the men. “I’ll bet she’s scarrit sh..” he started to say, then shut up quickly.