#THAT BETTER NOT HAVE BEEN MR. MUSIC MAN LYNCHED TO THE WALL

[zecretsanta]

FIC: Four Times Hazuki Kashiwabara Almost Lost Her Kids (and One Time After They Found Her)

To: @mortellanarts​

From: @grumpsterkitty​

For mortellanarts for Zecretsanta 2020 – “Lotus and her kids on Christmas”. This story mentions a near miscarriage.

AO3 LINK

(1)

It was an accident.

An honest accident.  Not like the ones that would happen at home.

She asked to watch the surveillance tape, after, once she had seen the doctor and she had reassured her that everything was fine.  Even in black and white, she could see the horror on Wendy’s face as she tripped over the electrical cord.  She replayed the moment when Wendy stumbled into her, knocking her into the copier.  Watching as her pregnant belly seemed to compress to an impossibly small size.

If she had lost the girls, she probably wouldn’t have been able to forgive Wendy.

To be honest, she hadn’t forgiven Wendy.

Which wasn’t entirely fair; perhaps the bulk of the blame was on the repair technician, or whoever decided to put the copier against the west wall, which had fewer power outlets, or whoever built and wired the building to begin with.

The blood - her blood - looked dark grey on the video.  It looked innocuous, like spilled soda.

She left the job three months after the twins were born, when she was sure they’d all be able to transfer to her husband’s insurance.

(2)

She cursed under her breath as she dropped the first aid kit.  The alcohol wasn’t even in here, she remembered, as she saw the band-aids scattered across the ground.  A tiny drop of blood slid down her ear and onto the Ace bandage.

The doorbell rang just as she managed to find the alcohol in the clutter under the sink.  She sloppily splashed some on a cotton and glanced at herself in the mirror.  The blood hadn’t gotten on her outfit, at least.  The doorbell rang again, and again, and again, as she barreled down the stairs.

“Dammit, when did you get so impatient?  Girls, Liz is early, are you done with -?”

She was cut short when she entered the dining room and saw their dinner plates still on the table, barely touched, and her daughters nowhere to be found.

“Girls?”

The doorbell ringing continued, but she ignored it.  She went through the rest of the house, picking up the pace as each one was empty.  She was only upstairs for what, ten, fifteen minutes?  Just long enough to change and put on her damn earrings. She called out their names as their babysitter kept pressing on the doorbell.

In panic and rage, she stormed to the front door and flung it open, ready to scream.  But it wasn’t Liz, just Nona and Ennea standing there with popsicles in their hands.

“We didn’t realize the door would lock behind us,” Ennea explained.  The grating music from the ice cream truck got louder as it came down their street.

Hazuki allowed herself a sigh of relief before she chastised them.  “You left, without even asking, to get dessert, before you finished dinner?”

Nona just shrugged while Ennea at least had the decency to look embarrassed.  “Mom, come on.  You know they’re the only one who have the blueberry ones we like.  We’ll still eat our dinner.  We promise.”

“We promise,” Nona reiterated.  “Even the carrots.”

“Maybe half the carrots?” Ennea said, a grimace on her face.  “I read if you eat too many, you can turn orange.”

“You eat too many blueberry popsicles, you’re going to turn blue.  You have a perfectly reasonable portion of carrots on your plate and I expect them to be all gone when I’m done.”

Her daughter’s expression changed, from disgust to worry. “Mama, what happened to your ear?  Daddy … he didn’t come by, did he?”

“No.”  Hazuki kneeled in front of them.  “Remember that paper I told you about?  He can’t come here or he’ll get in a lot of trouble.  It’s just been a little while since I wore earrings and my holes must have closed up.  I tried to force it through and I shouldn’t have.  Now finish up your dessert and eat your dinner.”

Her twins exchanged a glance before heading to the dining room.  She took a deep breath and went back upstairs to finish getting ready.  As much as she had wanted to wear her new jewelry, she could see the earlobe swelling up.

There would be time for wearing earrings, later.  Now that she didn’t have to worry about her husband ripping them out of her ear.

(3)

It started to drizzle, but she stayed on the bench. She could see Deanna about to cross the street into the park.  She had her hand on the stack of hundreds in her purse.  Deanna waved at her and Hazuki clenched her teeth.

It was silly.  Nobody had tailed her, she was certain.

Deanna sat next to her, seemingly uncaring that the bench was wet. Hazuki handed over the envelope of cash without a word.

“It’s definitely done?” Deanna asked.

“I think he could appeal, but he probably won’t.  He didn’t actually want the girls.  He just wanted to hurt me.”

“I hate men.”  Hazuki must have made a face, because Deanna laughed.  “I can hate men and still be a hooker.”

“I thought women in your price range called yourselves ‘escorts’.”

“We’re all the same.  Just because I don’t stand on a street doesn’t make me better.”

“Well.  Thank you.”

The smile faded off Deanna's face.  "I've done this before. That wife wanted to get out of a prenup and take his money. Which I could respect. Guy was an asshole. Do you have a picture of your kids?"

The sudden shift in topic left her mental gears spinning for a moment. She supposed there was no danger in it; she had researched Deanna thoroughly before emailing her.  She dug into her bag and pulled out her keys, with the keychain the girls made for her last year.  The picture inside the heart-shaped frame was of the three of them, the girls flanking her on either side, all of them smiling.

As she handed it to Deanna, the other woman looked like she might cry.

"I see my boy a few times a year, and that's it," she said finally.  “My ex didn’t have a problem with what I did when he got to benefit from the money I made.  Then I found out he was having an affair and he needed to tell the court I was an unfit mother so I wouldn’t get custody and he wouldn’t have to pay child support.”

“System is biased against women.”  She took her keys back and tucked them back into her purse.  “I work hard, take belly dancing lessons, and already started dating again.  That was enough to make the judge question if I was a good mom.  If you hadn’t been willing to –”

“Nobody’s going to protect us.  We have to do it ourselves.”

They sat there in silence for a few moments as the rain started to taper off.

“What does your ex do, exactly?”

Deanna snorted.  “He works for a health insurance company.”

“Any idea how good their firewall is?”

(4)

“Excuse me? Hello? Does anyone work in this hospital?!”

The nurse who came over looked exhausted, with dark bags under her eyes; any other day, Hazuki would have felt bad being so harsh, but she had been there for almost ten minutes and hadn’t gotten a single answer.

“Which kid is yours?” the nurse asked in a near monotone.

“Nona and Ennea Kashiwabara. I got a call they were brought here.”

“Ah, the twins.  Yes.  I’ll find their doctor.”

“Wait, are they okay?”  The nurse seemed to ignore her as she walked down the hallway.  “Can someone just tell me if they’re okay?  What the fuck is wrong with you people?”

She felt a hand on her shoulder and almost took the man’s head off when she turned around.  He was entirely too tall, with a well-chewed pen stuck behind his ear.

“I’m Detective Lynch.  Can I help you?”

“I just want to find my damn kids!”

“Kashiwabara, right?  The staff here are a little overwhelmed, but your kids are in good hands.  And your girls are okay.  Nona has a scrape on her knee, but that’s the worst of it.”

“Did you interrogate them?  They’re minors. You can’t –”

He held up a hand.  “I met the detective who rescued them at the pier.  I rode with one of your girls here.”

“Did you say the ‘pier’?  The – but – I was told they were found in a building in Nevada.  Where – what the hell happened to them?  They were missing for days!”

Lynch opened his mouth as if to respond, but suddenly seemed distracted by something just off to her left.  She turned to see what he was staring at, but he reached out and took her hand.

“We’re looking into it,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.  “When the nurse comes back, go be with your daughters.  Take them home.  I’ll give you my card.”

He barely took his eyes off her as he pulled out a business card and scribbled something on the back.  He handed it to her and walked off without another word.  His cursive was sloppy, but she could clearly read the message – not safe, text me, I’ll call you.

“Mrs. Kashiwabara?  Your girls are in room 407.”

When she turned around, there was no one there but the tired-looking nurse.

“The … the policeman who found the kids, where is he?  Is he still here?  Can I talk to him?”

“No, ma’am.  I think he went back to the station.  407 is this way.”

She realized she was clenching her fists and had crumbled up Lynch’s card.  But the writing was still legible.

(+1)

“Are you really sure you’re both okay with this?”

Nona cracked open the oven and clucked her tongue.  “Not quite.  And yes, mom, although it’s a little late to ask again now.  And stop eating all the deviled eggs, or you won’t have room for dinner.”

Hazuki rolled her eyes; before she could grab another egg, Ennea swiped the plate out from under her hand.

“Need me to help with anything?”

“Sure mom, you can make the cranberry sauce.”  Nona handed her can and an opener.  Hazuki sighed heavily as she cut the lid off and schlorped the dark red jelly tube into the bowl.

“There, sauce is made.”

“It’ll be good to see Mamoru again.” Ennea told her.

“Oh, you’re on a first name basis now?”  Nona teased.  “What happened to Detective Watanabe?”

“He hates formality and you know it.  Did you know he shares a name with a porn director?”

“Seriously?”

“Girls.”

“It’s true, though,” Ennea insisted.  “The guy did a film called Virgin Rope Makeover.”

“Did Mamoru tell you that?”

“No, mom, the internet is a thing.”  Nona peeked in the oven again. “Ah, finally.”

Hazuki tamped down the urge to remind her daughter that the turkey pan would be hot and heavy and to be careful.  She had never been one of those mothers while her girls were growing up, but ever since … ever since, it was hard not to be overprotective.  As soon as Nona had the turkey out, Ennea put in the pie.  And then the doorbell rang.

“Okay, please no mention of porn directors,” she told her daughters.

Ennea rolled her eyes as she set a timer and followed Nona out to the living room.  When Mamoru came in, he had to duck his head to avoid hitting it on the doorjamb.  He inexplicably had a large cardboard box in his hands.

“Hey, so, uh, hi.  I brought wine, but then I realized I didn’t know if you liked red or white, to I got both, but the girls couldn’t drink it, so I got grape juice, but then I realized I didn’t know if they liked red or white, so I just got both of those, too.”

Nona took the box from him and grimaced as if she hadn’t anticipated how heavy it was.  “No worries.”

He shrugged out of his coat and Ennea giggled as she took it from him and put it on herself.  It was so big on her it was practically a dress, and when she held up her arms, it was clear her hands were where his forearms were supposed to be.

“I call it … Three and a Half,” she declared.  Hazuki smiled and Nona chuckled, but Mamoru looked puzzled.

“Oh,” he said finally.  “’Cause I was Seven.”  With that, he let loose a loud guffaw.

“Go on,” Ennea told him.  “Dinner is basically ready.  Do you feel like carving the turkey?  Mom and I usually butcher it when we try.”

“Uh, sure.”  He followed Nona as she hauled the box of beverages into the dining room.

As Hazuki put her arm around Ennea, she heard Nona ask, “Is it true you share a name with a Japanese porn director?”

(fin.)

[journal-of-an-outlaw]

Price to be Paid

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

AO3 Link

Chapter 7

Mary Linton. 

At least, you guessed that’s who he was so upset about. 

Arthur had been gone for hours chasing that woman who held his heart all these years later. He continued to bang around a bit longer, then finally went to sleep and left the camp quiet. 

The next morning you and Mary-Beth ate breakfast together by the campfire. “YN...what do you think of that O’Driscoll fella we picked up in Colter?” 

Her eyes drifted over to the poor man tied up to the bare tree stump. While he seemed a bit unimpressive to you, Mary-Beth had been making not so secret eyes and sneaking him food all week. Part of you disagreed but it did make him whine less, so it seemed beneficial to all in the end. 

Sean was currently standing in front of Kieran taunting him about something or other. They were a contrasting pair to observe. Kieran dark and angular while Sean was light and rounded. A small half smile found its way to Mary-Beth’s face. 

“You sweet on him?” She blushed and looked back to you.  “You don’t really think he’s with them, do you?” 

“No, Mary-Beth I sure hope not. Once Dutch lets him off that tree I’m sure he’ll be fine, wish they wouldn’t torment him so. Needs to give them information or something. Earn his keep. I think Sean approves of him!” Hosea walked by and smacked Sean on the back of the head lightly for being a pest, and he dramatically fell over and rolled away. 

“Mornin, ladies!” Sean’s accent was pleasant if very different from everyone around you. 

“Sean, what do you think of that Kieran?” You asked on Mary-Beth’s behalf. 

He contemplated for only a moment before answering. “Seems a decent fella. Could maybe use a bath but all around not a bad one. Hopefully he cracks soon ol’ Dutch don’t like to be proved wrong for long. Should I tell him to come calling, YN? Fancy a ride with the new stallion is it?” 

“No! Jesus, Sean, please no,” Sean had started imitating riding a horse as a play on his words and fake galloped away. Mary-Beth couldn’t stop laughing, and the two of you enjoyed your morning and the ends of your meal together. 

Later in the morning you were helping Grimshaw bring in the laundry from the line. The eternal blue sky had given way to dark storm clouds heavy with rain so you hurriedly pulled the drying pieces down. Abigail stood next to you and the two of you chatted about the past few days, catching up in what felt like the first time in ages. 

“I have heard all kinds of crazy lately. You huntin’ with Charles, damn Mary’s in Valentine calling on Arthur, poor Lenny was nearly lynched some days ago. Makes you miss the old days of just wonderin’ who was shooting behind you.” 

You lifted a particularly heavy blanket up off the line, and Abigail watched you. 

“You know how to read, YN?” 

“Sure. Love reading, not very good at writing though. Words don’t come to me the same way when they’re my own. I feel the same way about music. ”

Abigail sighed and looked a bit downtrodden. “I...I never learned. I kinda hoped, well it’s selfish. But that I wasn’t alone.”

You watched her drop the last few pieces into her basket while a particularly loud clap of thunder hit. Both of you jumped and she grabbed her basket to leave. “Abigail, I may not be a good teacher but I’d love to have you learn! We can form a little book club.” She nodded and smiled, but the storm must have frightened her as she took off quickly.  

“So! YN, you’re still with us then. Little bird tells me you’re fittin’ right in.”

Ugh. Michah. He continued to talk and moved closer. “Shooting, and hunting,” suddenly he was right up against you, “and riding long, hard days. Is that right?”

You shoved a blue shirt into his chest and pushed him off, moving to the next piece and wishing he would leave. “At least pretend to help.” 

“Why won’t you let me show you the best this gang has to offer?” Michah posed with one foot up on a tree stump, seeming to believe this would work on you.  

“Mr. Bell, I haven’t given you permission to call me that so from now on I will be Miss Moore to you. As far as the best this camp has to offer? I seen better prospects looking at the pigs in Valentine. Leave me the hell alone.” 

Rage colored his face as his hands shot out to your neck. Instantly you dropped the clothing you were holding and clawed at him to release you. He was not impressed with your spirit, and leaned in closer. 

“You better watch that mouth of yours, girly, if you know what’s good for you. Think you’ll turn me down?” He spit on the ground to the side of you. “You’ll never see freedom again.” 

Michah let go of your neck and walked back towards his tent, yelling so everyone could hear, “I don’t intend to lose to these idiots.

Over the next week, camp was a bustling scene. John’s livestock con became a full blown plan to rob a farmer of his sheep, and the possibility of passing them off as his own to sell grew with each addition Dutch and Hosea suggested. Some train robbery was being planned too and it seemed Dutch was stretched rather thin. The camp desperately needed money and Herr Strauss had lent more than he should have. You agreed to go along with whatever you could help with in order to stay in their good graces. 

That O’Driscoll boy Kieran had a plan of his own, too. From his days running with them he knew of a place not far from Horseshoe Overlook called Six Points Cabin. Colm O’Driscoll himself was said to be hiding out there as a safehouse with some of his gang. Arthur, John, Bill, and Kieran were set up to ride when you begged Dutch to let you go with them. It seemed an easy enough plan. Head in, see if the boss was there or not, then take his plans and go. He agreed, and gave you a few more guns to bring along with you. You loaded up the shotgun and rifle, adding them to your pistol hiding on your horses saddlebags. 

Some of the group was weary of you going. Truthfully you didn’t have much practice with a gun, and even less shooting at real people. Sure, Lenny had helped work on your aim but you were nowhere near perfect. 

Kieran seemed genuine enough but you hadn’t had the chance to talk with him much. Riding Eclipse, he commented that she was a beauty. He was stuck on the back of John’s horse and it was clear he envied those riding solo. He surprised you with easy conversation until the turning point for Six Point Cabin. 

“Swing a left! Up here now. And everyone off your horses, the sound will echo for miles around,” he warned. You grabbed your shotgun and crouched down to mask your footprints. The other men continued to give Kieran a hard time about being an O'Driscoll, but as the only other outsider on this mission you didn't say a word. Truly you understood how hard it could be to fit in. Only rolled your eyes and smiled when he needed support. Damn bastards. Kept joking about gelding him, and you pitied when he winced away in fear. 

Three O’Driscoll guards snuck up on you. One started taking a piss and you blanched at the disgustingness of it. John grabbed Kieran to make sure he didn’t squeel but he was as silent as could be. Arthur decided to deal with that man alone, choking him out silently from behind. After the man was set down on the ground silently Arthur motioned for the rest to join him, with John and Bill threw knives taking out the two remaining guards. 

“Miss Moore, you’re in charge of keeping young Kieran here out of trouble. Stay back on the hill until we clear the camp out below.” Arthur didn’t look at you while he barked orders but moved on quickly so you didn’t have time to protest. Kieran gave you a sympathetic glance once they had left. 

“Oh, shut up. I’ll stay behind but it’s not ‘cause I want to.” You didn’t have a choice and both of you knew it. But you huffed anyways. 

Bill stepped on a branch, causing the men from below to look up and notice they were about to be taken over. “Men in the camp! We got men in the camp!” There was nothing you could do but twiddle your thumbs with Kieran while you watched the boys take out the remaining gang members. After the gunfire cleared, the pair of you moved down the hill to help the others loot the bodies. A few pocket watches and some wedding rings that had seen better days were tucked away in your satchel while Kieran started towards Arthur. 

“See there! I ain’t lying. Like I said, he’s worse than Dutch so please, let me stay with y'all I’m a dead man otherw -”

Kieran was cut off by the front door of the cabin bursting open and man with a shotgun running straight towards Arthur. Your heart jumped out of your chest and you tried to yell but Kieran shot the man first. 

“You alright?”

“Sure, thank you.” 

You watched as Kieran extended Arthur a hand up; such an overly bland exchange for folks who had just saved the others lives. 

“Men…” you shook your head and walked off, not believing that these fools were the ones you depended on at this moment. 

Colm ended up not being at the camp, but it was a good blow to his gang. Arthur was mad as he rode off ahead of your group but you had a good amount of wares taken from the cabin and weren’t about to complain. Kieran even showed you how Colm liked to hide a stash of money in chimneys which was a huge win. 

Dutch was more aligned with Arthur however when you got back to camp. 

“So...Colm was not there.” He rubbed his beard and debated with Bill and Hosea what to do about Kieran. You decided to speak up. 

“Dutch, he was telling the truth. Colm was there, just not when we arrived. I...think Kieran should get a second chance.”

Dutch stared back at you incredulously. You had never spoken your mind so freely like this, and never in front of other members of the gang as a crowd. 

“Really. The campfire singer thinks we should keep an enemy within our walls. Is there no end to this madness?”

You flushed so hard you felt your ears turn red. How dare he reduce you to nothing more than an entertainer for the gang? Like some common whore. Instant regret flashed across his face and he moved to put his hand on your shoulder and apologize, but an old memory in your gut screamed you should move and you flinched hard as his hand neared you. He froze and drew it back slowly. 

“If that’s my role, then say it. I’ve been out hunting and fighting the past few weeks with no complaints from you. Kieran had good information, but we kept him tied up so long he didn’t know anything had changed,” you spat at the older man.

“It’s true, Dutch. I could have asked him sooner,” now Arthur was involved and you couldn’t bear to stay. You grabbed a cup of water for Kieran and stalked off, steam rolling down your shoulders from how Dutch treated you. 

He was going to hit you, you knew it. Your heart was pounding so hard you hands were shaking with every beat. Even the view of the valley didn’t calm your nerves, so you went to brush down Eclipse and steady yourself. It had been nearly three months now since you felt that familiar fear. One you had hoped stayed behind in Blackwater. 

“YN, you hiding over here?” Arthur called out as he neared the horse station. 

Rubbing tears from your eyes, you called back, “And what do you want?”

“Dutch is real sorry. He didn’t mean to sound like that.” Making you the fool in front of everyone? Of course he sent Arthur to make amends on his behalf. His son. Errand boy. 

“It’s fine. Don’t matter anyways, I know what I am. Just rattled from all of it,” Your hands were shaking so hard you dropped the brush, and Arthur bent to pick it up. “He would never hit you, you know,” he offered quietly, the brush loose in his hand. 

“Part of me knows that. Michah was...but that was earlier and Dutch...well, look at me now,” and you held out your own hand to show the reaction. He grabbed it and held tight, looking you dead in the eye. 

“Whatever happened in your past is gone. Ain’t no one going to hurt you here, that I can promise.”

Slowly as he rubbed circles into the back of your hand, you calmed down. Thinking a bit more rationally you understood Dutch had not been moving to hit you. Instinct had taken over, and you took a deep breath and decided to change the subject.

“So. Is Kieran staying?” Arthur nodded. “Long as he behaves himself, yes.” You sighed and leaned back against Eclipse for support. “Good. He’s a good kid. Mary-Beth keeps asking me my opinion on him, and she ain’t subtle.”

Arthur laughed softly and dropped your hand. “Look...YN I’m sorry the past while has been a rough go of it. Not usually like this, and Dutch says he has a plan...must be hard for a high society woman to be livin’ like this.”

“Society woman? Arthur, you know I was raised in Blackwater. Ain’t no more than a Valentine with a few paved roads. Stop treating my like I’m breakable and just treat me like a person.” He nodded, and stood with you silently. 

“Speaking of society women...how did things go with Mary? I heard you come back late last night.” Your curiosity had gotten the better of you and it was a topic with no attention on yourself. 

He looked startled but answered anyways. “She, uh, her brother...needed help. I rode out and found him with some weird folks. Brought him back into town. Wasn’t anything special.” While his speech was completely relaxed, his whole body had tensed up. He rubbed the back of his neck again, a nervous habit you noticed he did frequently. 

“That’s sweet of you. She seems…interesting?” The lack of effort you put into finding a better description was obvious but you couldn’t care less. She was of no importance to you. 

That got a full laugh from him. “Interesting. One way of putting it, that’s for sure. Glad you’re okay, but if you’ll excuse me, YN, I need to head into town and steal an oil wagon of all things.”

“By all means, Mr. Morgan. Don’t let me stand in your way.” He grumbled something about ‘Mr. Morgan’ and ‘every time’ but you didn’t quite catch it. He galloped away on his bay horse, leaving you with your thoughts and Eclipse, bothering you for a treat. 

The train robbery was a success. Sean, Arthur, John, and Charles stopped the train on its tracks to grab valuables from passengers heading to Saint Dennis on their way to some cruise. It was quick and easy with a big win for the gang. No one hurt, and no one recognized. 

Dutch was elated. “One more big score, boys, and we will be on our way! Just think about that fat paycheck taking us home to a new land! To freedom!” 

John was not happy that Sean somehow wiggled his way into his plan and tried to avoid him when he talked to Arthur about the next idea. He had heard wind of a herd of sheep being moved into Valentine from Emerald Ranch in two days time and thought it could be a big score.

“Abigail, just listen - ”

“No, John! This has to stop. Why can’t you ever listen to me and do what’s best for the boy? Why ain’t you happy?” Abigail cried at John. The two had been fighting nonstop since he returned from the train job and he was beginning to really get irritated. 

Sitting near the horse area, Jack decided to teach you how to braid flowers together. “See, YN? One over, then under, then over, then it’s pretty!” He laughed and clapped as you finished up your first one and set the chain around his neck. “Now you’re all pretty, Jack. A real prince!” He beamed, and looked up as Arthur approached. “Uncle Arthur! Look, I’m pretty!” 

Arthur laughed out loud and smiled down at the toddler. “Now, ain’t that a sight to see! Little Jackie Marston, all dolled up.” Jack bent down to get Arthur a chain, and the two of you smiled at one another. You loved looking after Jack. It was easy and simple. 

“Say, Jack. You wanna come fishing with me?” 

The little boy scrunched up his nose. “Fishing?

“Sure! It’s about time you started to earn your keep,” Jack stood and agreed. “You do have a fishing pole, don’t ya?” And Jack ran off to his mother’s tent to find his rod. 

“That’s sweet, taking the boy out. I know Abigail appreciates it,” thinking on how hard she worked you knew she loved being free for even an hour. 

Arthur rubbed his jaw. “Mostly do it cause I know his father won’t. Stupid fool. Kids gotta learn to do something more than run from his troubles.”

Jack came bounding back, pole in hand. “Let’s go, Uncle Arthur!” The two set off on Arthur’s black stallion and you continued to scrape around for the root Pearson had mentioned. Successful, you headed back to drop it off at his table. Not many people were up at this hour so you decided to watch Arthur and Jack downstream. 

They rode not too far away, and Jack pulled out his rod. An old wooden thing that Hosea had made him months ago, but did the job for a four year old learning how to fish. You saw Arthur teach him how to bait the line, cast into the stream, and reel it in once you felt a bite. Once or twice Jack almost hooked Arthur, and he definitely hooked the ground behind him, but he finally caught a fish. It was a sweet sight watching the two relax and forget about outlaw life for awhile. 

Two horses rode up and stopped not far from the pair as you watched. They dismounted and approached Arthur and Jack, and Arthur went completely defensive. Jack was pushed behind his legs while the three men talked, and the glint of metal shined when one of the strangers raised his gun and slung it over his shoulders. Their clothes were new, and from what you could barely make out finley pressed. One moved forward to shake Arthur’s hand, but was dropped when he didn’t reciprocate. He then removed his hat, and a balding head with black strands shone and a familiar panic began to settle at the back of your neck, cool and quick spreading. Arthur suddenly threw his fishing pole on the ground and the second man quickly pointed his barrel at his chest causing Jack to move stumble back from Arthur. They exchanged a few more words, then mounted their horses and left upriver, away from the camp. 

The pair couldn't have been at the river for more than an hour, but the stallion came pounding into camp harder and faster than ever before. Jack was swung down and met in Abigail’s arms. He handed her a necklace made of red flowers and braided in the way he had taught you earlier, beaming and talking about the one fish he managed to catch. 

Jack ran off with his pole, and Abigail finally looked back at Arthur. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing...just met some folk. I’d better go speak with Dutch.” She smiled and thanked him again, and you watched Arthur disappear into Dutch’s open tent. You were sitting at the main table stitching Lenny’s shit back up but you could hear their whole conversation. 

“We got a real problem, Dutch. I just met some guys out near the river. Employees of the Pinkerton Detective Agency, who know about the train, and they know we’re here.”

Dutch stood up quickly, “Were you followed back her?”

“No. They know we’re near here, and they want you Dutch. They offered me my freedom in exchange they did.” Dutch was walking out around camp now, listening to Arthur speak behind him. 

“Pinkertons, you said? Did you catch their names?”

“I did. A feller named, Ross and...Milton. Agent Ross, and Agent Milton.”

Head swirling, you dropped the needle from your hands. Milton? He followed you out here? You couldn’t believe of all the dumb, stupid things you’ve done, this had to take the cake. He must have known somehow that this is where you would end up. 

Idiot. Stupid, stupid girl. All trying to chase an elusive idea you still hadn’t fully created yet. 

Lenny came over to grab his shirt and made a comment that you couldn't hear, so you smiled and waved as he walked off. A rushing sound filled hour ears and made everything impossible and caused you to run far from the edge of camp. Finally alone, you let out the tension that had been building up inside of you.

“Dammit. God dammit!” You swung and hit a tree, ignoring the pain that flashed through your knuckles. No one was safe if they knew your secret, and these folks meant something to you. They had taken you in when you needed it, and you’ve worked your ass off to prove your worth to them. You wouldn't let that worthless, horrible, sack of shit steal it all away from you now. “Stupid! Piece! Of! Shit!” The pain in your knuckles was too strong to ignore now so you screamed as hard as you could, confident no one was nearby. 

“YN, are you okay? Jesus, let me see that hand.” Charles approached slowly after watching you punch a tree. 

“What are you doing out here? Following me?” He tilted his head at you. “No I was on patrol guarding the perimeter. What happened back there?” 

“Dutch was nearly found out. Some detectives found Arthur and Jack down by the river, and they’re looking for us.” A few deep breaths did nothing to calm your nerves, but you proceeded anyways. “Charles...if I tell you something, do you promise not to hate me?” The fear had subsided this far from camp but the anxiety still radiated through your veins. Everything in you screamed not to let this secret pass your lips. 

“No. But I can promise to listen.” This seemed to be the best offer, so you took a few more deep breaths to steady yourself. 

“That man...Agent Milton from the Pinkertons. The one who’s after Dutch? I...He’s my…” Finally you opened your eyes as you needed to see Charles’ reaction. “My last name ain’t Moore, Charles. It’s Milton. The detective who’s after the gang isn’t just another Pinkerton, he’s my father. And it seems that he is now here to bring this gang in or kill every last one of us.” Tears that had been building up finally spilled down your cheeks. 

The air hung heavy as your truth was finally free. Surely, he would hate you. Everyone would hate you. They would turn you in and run away as fast as they could. Charles. Pearson. John. Little Jack. Abigail. Dutch. Arthur.

Charles didn’t immediately speak but instead came forward slowly to examine your hand. 

“That’s...quite the cut you’ve given yourself there. Let me take a look.” Your eyes continued to water as the pain set in, but you extended your arm out for help. 

“Charles, that man is awful. I planned to escape everyday. I never thought…”

He nodded and listened to you speak, running an ointment over the open wound that somehow burned and felt cool at the same time. 

“I understand. We are not our parents. If we were, I would be a miserable drunk pining for a life I never really had. Still, I think it’s best we keep this quiet. I can’t see many minding but it could cause a real issue. Dutch is easily set off these days.”

As he finished bandaging your knuckles you nodded and smiled up at him. “Thank you, Charles. You’ve given me a lot the past few weeks.” 

He chuckled and turned the two of you back towards camp. “As long as you can still use that bow hand, I don’t mind much about the other stuff. You’re a good person, YN. And everyone here can see that. Just, don’t say anything about this yet. You head back first into camp and I’ll follow in soon. Make sure no Pinkertons trail you on the way.” You laughed nervously and started the walk back. It was almost dark and you didn't realize just how far you had run. 

The hike back was quiet and the only sound that accompanied you were bugs, singing a criss cross harmony that overlapped and swelled the longer you focused on it. You had the realization that you were alone for the first time in months. Sure, Charles would be along behind you shortly but no one was keeping tabs on your every move. 

Maybe this is what happiness felt like. 

It wasn’t the front porch light still on after dinner at your friends. It wasn’t the open bottle left sitting on the dining table, making Momma clean it up and wipe the spilling edges. It wasn’t the way your door creaked open at night. And it sure as hell wasn’t the feeling of balled fists meeting your ribs, or back, or anything that would be kicked or scratched and no one else could see. 

Damn that man and his awful, awful ways. 

Back at camp people were on edge. No one noticed you slip into the crowd to get dinner. Talking wasn’t a priority so you sat alone, terrified that pox marked face would creep in from the shadows. It didn’t, however, so after a fitful few hours you fell asleep, unknowingly it was your last night at Horseshoe Overlook.

[mbacall-blog]

Trixie Belden Twilight Zone Fanfic

“Dan, I’m so excited. I wish we could have caught them at home, but it’s great that you got tickets to see the Jets playing near Boston! We might just beat the Patriots!” Trixie Belden bubbled as they disembarked from the bus. “Well, in just a little while, Trix, we’ll be there,” laughed dark-haired Dan, holding open the door to Wimpy’s as his girlfriend passed through. He noticed that the bus passengers were the only patrons in the joint. He took in the diner that had come to embody that small-town feeling for him after leaving the Big Apple: red and white checkered tablecloths, well-worn vinyl booths, posters of ’69 Mustangs and ’57 Chevys hanging on the walls. “You two are just a riot,” Mrs. Wheeler commented. “I hope the bus ride is fine. I hate travelling in snowy weather Matt, why did you schedule this meeting in Boston? The offices at Wheeler here would have sufficed.” “It’ll be fine, dear. We’ll all be fine. You’ve exhausted all of the shops here in New York. Boston might have just what you need for that charity ball. Let’s hurry up and order so we can get back on the bus in time.” The business mogul ushered his wife toward the counter, many of the other passengers following closely behind. Just as everyone sat down to eat, Molinson and Webster strolled in. “Okay, everyone, who all got off that bus?” the Captain demanded abruptly. ,Surprised by the rude interruption, the diners stared at the policemen for a moment. Trixie recovered first and raised her hand. Dan, the Wheelers, Regan, and Diana followed suit. Spider chimed in. “What business does the bunch of you have on a bus to Boston in a snowstorm?” “Football game,” chirped Trixie. “Same,” said Dan. “Interview,” Diana offered. Matt answered for both himself and his wife. “Business and shopping.” “Horses,” was all Regan felt inclined to say. Irritated by his junior officer’s intrusion, Molinson continued his interrogation. “Is there anyone here who wasn’t on that bus?” “No, Captain, there isn’t. The driver’s in the bathroom, but otherwise, we’re all here and we all came off that bus,” Trixie answered the irate official’s question, guarded against his gruffer-than-usual nature. “Then how do you explain the footprints, Miss Belden?” “What footprints?” “A fresh set of footprints leads from the pond in Sleepyside Park right up to the very door of this diner. So who’s here? No footprints lead away.” Trixie fought the urge to roll her eyes at Molinson. “I can’t answer that, sir, but I’m sure there’s some explanation.” “Better be. Where’s that driver of yours? I need to inform him of a change in your travel plans.” “What now?” Lester Mundy asked as he exited the men’s room. He took a seat and dug into his burger. “Lester, the bridge over the Hudson is too icy. You won’t be able to cross safely, and the highway department has shut it down until it can be plowed and salted. You’ll have to find an alternative route.” Matthew Wheeler addressed the Captain with his best no-nonsense voice . “Molinson, I have business in Boston, and the nearest crossing is twenty miles out of the way, since the other bridge washed out.” “No-can-do, Mr. Wheeler. Orders are orders,” Lester said through a mouthful of burger. Trixie sipped her shake thoughtfully. “Why’d you notice the footsteps, Captain? Surely you weren’t sent here to count noses.” “In a manner of speaking, I was, Trixie,” he half-sneered at the young detective. “Crazy old Lytell called in some funny lights. We investigated. Are you sure you all got off that bus?” Everyone nodded their assent. “Well, then I guess the bridge doesn’t even matter, does it? I want to know who the footprints belong to, and nobody is leaving until I do!” Molinson announced authoritatively. “But… I have to make this interview! It’s the opportunity of a lifetime!” Diana Lynch moaned. “Shh, Trix, we’ll still make the game,” Dan murmured in response to his girlfriend’s nearly-inaudibly whispered query. “But we could miss our day of sightseeing! I wanted to see Boston, Dan!” whined the melodramatic blonde. “Trixie, you can hop on the Wheeler jet anytime to go see Boston. That’s where I’d be if JFK hadn’t shut down for weather. But, Molinson, I’ve got to get to Boston.” Instead of arguing with Matthew Wheeler, Molinson turned to the Wheelers’ red-haired groom. “So, Mr. Regan, why aren’t you in as much of a rush as the rest of them?” “I’m just seeing a man about a horse. Previewing stock for an auction in a couple of weeks; I can do that pretty much any time between now and then,” came his cool reply. Trixie asked the officers, “Can I help? I’m going to get so bored just sitting here waiting to hit the road!” “This is police business, Trixie,” Spider said in a tone that implied he was getting to be too big for his britches. “I’m a member of the PD,” she countered defiantly. “You’re a dispatcher,” corrected Spider. Trixie began another question, but was interrupted by the jukebox cranking up. The opening strains of “Amarillo by Morning” played, but just as George Strait’s voice came on, the music suddenly cut off. “That’s good,” said Mike. “Real good. Who wants to explain that?” “Aliens!” Mrs. Wheeler gasped. “I watch television! Things like this always happen when there’s an alien!” “Nonsense, dear. You know aliens aren’t real!” “Don’t ‘nonsense’ me, Matthew!” “Maddie, please, be reasonable!” “Everybody just hush!” hollered Spider. “You let me take it from here, Webster!” Molinson insisted. “Quiet, please, and let me call Moms. I need to let her know about the delay,” Trixie requested. Putting the receiver to her ear, she had almost dropped her quarter before realizing that there was no dial tone. “Mike, pay phone’s out!” “Here, try this one.” He slid the phone across the counter and checked before handing it to her. It shocked him to hear nothing. “I’ll be darned. This one’s dead, too.” As he said this, the phone, off its hook in his hand, began to ring. Surprised, Trixie and the counterman sprung away from the offending object. “It’s probably just an electronic glitch.” Diana heard Dan say the words, but she was struck by a more extraterrestrial thought. “Oh my. What if there is an alien among us,” she squealed in much the same manner as Mrs. Wheeler had moments before. Lester spoke up. “How could there be an alien? Everybody here knows everybody else. We’d notice an alien, I’m sure of it.” Her earlier question forgotten, Trixie began to agree with the bus driver. “Yeah, Les, you’re right. Unless… Oh, woe! The alien among us, he’s an imposter!” “Stop the hysteria, Trix—“ Dan’s attempt at placating her overactive imagination was interrupted by her thoughtful look and suspicious tone. “Daniel, if that really is you, where’d that scar on your jaw go?” With a nervous chuckle, he tried yet again to rein in her imagination. “Trix, I outgrew that scar—it faded. You just think you could see it before because you know it was once there. Really, if aliens existed, they’d do their homework. And I’d be a poor person to mimic—my girlfriend is the infamous Trixie Belden: sleuth, shamus, ferret-outer extraordinaire. It’d be hard to pull one over on you.” “I suppose,” she agreed without much conviction. “Matt, your hair, it seems duller.” As she spoke, Maddie surreptitiously slid her chair further from her husband’s. “Maddie, if after twenty-odd years of marriage, you are doubting who I am—“ “Ha! It’s thirty-one this year. You are the alien!” Suppressing a snicker, Regan came to his boss’ aid. “Now, with all due respect, Mrs. Wheeler, to be fair, many men don’t remember their anniversaries. I don’t think that should be the only criteria to determining he’s an alien.” “Regan, your skin’s different. And… and, you haven’t been around the stables for the past few days. Maybe you’re the alien,” Di accused. The groom coughed before replying, “Di, I’m just now getting over a cold. I’m no alien!” Like a mad-woman with a mission, Diana fixed her violet gaze on her oldest friend. “So, Belden, you’ve been unusually quiet for the last few minutes. What do you have to say for yourself?” Shocked by Di’s uncharacteristic behavior, Trixie was struck speechless. “You seem to be taking care of things right now, Diana,” Mr. Wheeler defended. “You!” She wheeled on the businessman. “You started off being all concerned about making Boston. Now why isn’t it such a big deal? Have they given you some sort of special information we should know about?” “Who’s this ‘they’, Di? The aliens? Please, get yourself under control. There aren’t any aliens and you’re making yourself look absurd.” “Mr. Wheeler—“ Di began, but the squawking of the Captain’s police radio on his shoulder drowned out her protest. “Yes, Honey, I hear. A fire out Old Sawmill Road. Got it. Yes, we’re on our way to help secure the perimeter. No, we haven’t found out what this whole fiasco is—“ Molinson responded. ”Hogwash. Nothing but hogwash,” Regan called, loud enough to be heard back at headquarters. “Regan? Is that Regan? What’s he doing out in this weather? He’s recuperating, for crying out loud! Do you hear me, Regan? Go back to your apartment and get warm. The horses can’t stand much longer without you.” Before the redhead could reply, Molinson ordered Honey back to work and cut off the radio. “Finally, a real case. ‘Aliens”,” he harrumphed. Everyone inside exchanged glances. Trixie jumped up. “Mike! You’re the alien! You were the only one of us alone!” “Now just you wait a minute, Trixie Belden! Lester was in the bathroom by himself. Maybe they swapped him then,” he countered. “It’s not me. Now, if everybody wants to get to Boston, I’d suggest we hit the road. Like Mr. Wheeler said, the nearest crossing’ll take us at least twenty miles out of the way. In this weather, that might as well be a hundred.” Quietly, everyone gathered their trash and filed out the door after Lester, suspiciously glaring at their companions for the ride. While they loaded the bus, the radio crackled. “Lester, it’s Honey. Come in, Lester.” “Lester here. Go ahead.” From over the static, they heard Honey say, “We just got word from the Highway Department. The bridge has been plowed and salted. You can take that route after all.” “10-4. Thanks, Honey.” “Well, guys, I guess we’re back in business,” Lester cheered as the engine turned over and the bus rolled out. ***** An hour before the midnight diner closed, someone came up the walk. “Back so soon? I thought you were on your way to Boston.” “I was.” “What changed?” the counterman asked as he wiped the counter before where the lone patron sat. “And what’ll you have?” “Bridge iced back over. Too slick. We slid off into the Hudson. Coffee, please.” The customer closed frigid fingers around a mug when a strange beeping sounded. Mike looked up and was asked, “You don’t mind if I take this?” “Go ahead.” And while Mike watched, a third hand emerged from the customer’s coat, holding a large, square receiving device. Seemingly unfazed by the extra limb, Mike inquired, “So, you made it out alive. How about the others?” “Oh, only just me. Second time tonight I’ve climbed from freezing-cold water. You know, despite the temperatures, this would be a nice place to set up a colony.” The counterman agreed, pushing his cap up his forehead to reveal a large third eye. “Oh, yes. Mars is planning one. They’ve sent me ahead as a scout.” ”That’s too bad, really. We from Venus are already here. If you look out the window, you might just see them.” Mike peered out into the darkness to see an army of redheaded men marched into Sleepyside. The Martian’s heart sunk. “So soon?” “Yep. You snooze, you lose!” Regan’s laughter faded into the darkness. Author’s Notes: My first posting! Woo-hoo! (Or Yeehaw!) Many, many thanks to my lovely (and patient) hostess, Mal! Not only has she made the perfect home (or porch) for my story, but she has improved the text with her editing skill. Thank you, too, for encouraging me to post this first story. *hugs* Any mistakes are mine. Also, Jan deserves a big “thank you” for looking at some of my earlier writing. Any Twilight Zone fans out there? This is a “Sleepysided” version of one of my favorite episodes. “Thank you!” to Rod Serling and the others who made the Twilight Zone possible. I don’t own it (not even on DVD). Same goes for Ford, Chevy, and other things you may recognize (though I do belong to a long line of Ford owners, if that counts). Thank you for taking the time to check it out!