Quester amongst the flowers 1

 the good news is that I have been a bit more active, and a noticeable amount less pain. The bad news is I have been taking advantage of this to do stuff about the house rather than writing for you all. I should say sorry, but I'm not really that sorry. anyway, here it is, the third Quester story, I'm still writing it, but I have a good few chapters in hand.

Chapter 1

 

Quester regarded the Jurisprudentor with displeasure.

“You have eight girls from patrician families who are dead, or missing, and you can’t find a single fact which connects them?”

The gangling young man who was on the receiving end of his displeasure had a prominent adam’s apple which bobbed nervously as he swallowed.

“Well, apart from them all being between about fourteen and twenty-one, no,” he said. “Sex criminals usually have a type... I beg your pardon?”

“They are all the victims of sex crimes?” asked Quester.

“Well, yes; the ones we have found have all been violated and strangled,” said the Jurisprudentor.

“Mr. Villnew,” said Quester, reading off the label on the paper-pusher, “You tell me there are no points of similarity, yet you have given me three already. All nubile, violated, and killed by strangulation.  And would that be manual strangulation, or using some form of ligature?”

Villnew goggled and his adam’s apple bobbed up and down as if it wanted to escape the confining throat.

“I... I don’t know,” said Villnew. “...My lord,” he added belatedly as Burdock glared and Quester raised an eyebrow.

“And they got an idiot with delusions of moronity to brief me why?” demanded Quester. “Which  Lictor is in charge of this? Why did he not report to me?”

The adam’s apple bobbed widely.

“Uh... Lictor Cayban did not have time....” he tailed off nervously and twisted his fingers together.

“I won’t shoot the messenger if he was less than courteous, you know,” said Quester.

Villnew shuffled.

“He said that he didn’t need some poncy Justiciar doing his job for him and that if he couldn’t solve it, you hadn’t a chance, and he was damned if he gave you any consideration or time, and advised us to be unhelpful. I was given the job of briefing you this morning and I haven’t been able to go through it all yet, my lord,” he said.

“That puts a different complexion on things, lad,” said Quester.  “I take back the remark about your intellect. I won’t apologise for it, though, because you parroted what you were told to say, instead of doing your duty and telling me how it is.  Do you have all the records?  Is all the evidence recorded?”

“Uh....” said Villnew.

“Hunter,” said Quester, to his new junior, “Go with Burdock into the evidence locker and pull everything on these girls... you have a list, Mr. Villnew?”

“Oh, yes, here,” said Villnew.

Quester read it through as the two assistants headed deep into the local Judiciary building.

“Hortensia Wilburga Sagittaria; Jacintha Willema Farfaxa; Rosa Jema Basvilla; Selandina Riketa Warrena; Erica Peytona Randoffa; Zenobia Willema Avia;  Yolanda Thossa Jeffra; and Iolantha Ankakia Lea. I can see another link just by looking at the list.”

“Some of them are flowers,” said Kiliana, leaning over his arm.

“All of them are flowers,” said Quester. “Hydrangea, Hyacinth, Rose, Buttercup, Heather, Honeycup – a native of the Jinnya Isles – Violet, and Violet. Now tell me there’s no connection.”

Villnew gulped convulsively, and Killiana shuddered, worried that his voice box was going to break free and burst out of his neck.

“I... I don’t want to be fired,” he said. “I... I failed the Justiciar training, and... and went in for Jurisprudence instead. But you have to do a lot of politicking to stay still, never mind rise, and... well, Lictor Cayban was appointed to the case by the Judiciary, and I’m a very small cog and he’s a very big wheel.”

“If you do well by me, Villnew, you will find I am so much bigger a wheel than he can possibly imagine.  His actions are close to heresy, and I am tempted to have him arrested in order to find out whether he’s blocking me because he, or a friend of his, has been plucking these flowers. Copy your file once each for my assistant and me, oh, and a third time for Sub-Justiciar Hunter. Killiana, you can let Purity look over your notes.”

Killiana nodded; that was an instruction to brief Purity, who had admitted to being poor at reading, being more interested in the physical side of her training. Quester suspected that many Highbred had questionable literary skills; most of them had good to eidetic memories, which obviated the need to look up what they could memorise. Chaplains and Psions kept records so presumably had higher attainments of literacy, but as their records were secret, he could not ascertain the truth of this. He strongly suspected his friend, Chaplain Eusebius, of speaking his records into his datatab. Many people did.  And Purity had hoped to be a Sister Nightingale, one of the female Highbred units who were battlefield medics. She had failed her tests by the narrowest of margins, but had received some training, as well as a second heart, from Eusebius and his Winged Hussars. At something over seven feet tall, she was short next to the Highbred, but a nice size for Burdock, the Ogroid, whose girlfriend she was. Ogroids had grown out of the original experiments in breeding Highbred, and were usually dim-witted and slow of thought. Burdock was an exceptional character with an offbeat sense of humour, and as he also now had a second heart, he had every chance of living to a reasonable age, as well as being healthier. It was a gift which Quester had appreciated.

He scanned through the information which had been given to Villnew, which was remarkably thin.

“I hope the others find something more than this in the evidence lockers,” he growled. “This is my office from now on; requisition me two more for working in. The inhabitants can double up with others.”

“Er... I don’t think they’ll be happy,” said Villnew.

“They don’t have to be happy; they only have to comply,” said Quester. “Well, jump to it, man! I want the offices today, not when your drool has had a chance to dry. And then you can see about finding me a house to rent nearby.”

“Y... yes, my lord,” said Villnew, who had almost forgotten in his office job how much power a Justiciar had.

Almost limitless.

Villnew straightened.

If he did right by this Justiciar, he would be distributing close to the word of the Blessed Abe himself. And that would settle a few old scores.

He smiled beatifically.

Hickenbak had the best office, with the morning sun and a panorama of the city; the justiciar would doubtless like that. It had a helipad too. Hickenbak could go in with that miserable old sod, Parkson, and may each of them hate it. There was good reason, too, the Justiciar needed helo access at all times. Yes, that would work nicely; it was a shame to upset Miz Lewis in the office between, but  it would be sensible for the space to be contiguous.  And she’d love to see the up-to-the-minute fashions the Justiciar’s assistant was wearing, and might keep a corner of her office if she made herself useful. She had the kitchen right opposite, after all....

Villnew went to talk Miz Lewis into supporting him in evicting Hickenbak.

He saw the Sub-Justiciar and the Ogroid coming back with a truck full of boxes.

Hickenbak first, then.

“In here, if you please, Your Honour, and Mister Burdock,” said Villnew. “I have not yet removed the current incumbent, but it’s a larger office for the Lord Justiciar; and the Jurisprudentor in the office between able to be useful, I am sure, as his lordship does not object to women.”

“Him in de big room a problem, huh?” said Burdock.

“He thinks he’s Abe’s gift to everyone,” said Villnew.

“Leave it to me,” said Burdock. “What’s his name?”

“Hiram Hickenbak,” said Villnew.

Burdock considered for a moment, then a smile came over his face, showing his snaggletoothed grin.

He kicked the door open.

“Which of you is I-ram Stick-in-back?” he demanded.

“I’m Hiram Hickenbak, and you can get out of my office, you dirty stupid Ogroid,” said the haughty tones of the senior Jurisprudentor.

“Ho, well, it ain’t your office no more, Stick-in-back, it’s been requisitioned for his lordship, Lord Justiciar Quester,” said Burdock. “You may have half an hour to gather your personal effects and what you are working on, and move elsewhere. Where should he go, Mr. Villnew?”

“If you knew how tempted I was to answer a straight line like that,” muttered Villnew; and almost fell over when the Ogroid winked at him.

Villnew came into the office.

“I think you’d better move in with Parkson,” said Villnew.

“What about your office, or Lewis’s?” said Hickenbak.

“Requisitioned,” said Villnew. “We’ll be acting as gophers for the Justiciar, and Abe help you if you irritate him, he has a nasty tongue.”

“’S’ all right, you got twenty-two minutes to get out,” said Burdock, clearing Hickenbak’s desk with a casual swipe of his arm.  “This will do, I suppose,” he said. “Where do you make coffee?”

“Opposite Lewis’s office,” said Villnew. “I’ll go and apprise her of the rearrangements.”

Hunter went to collect Quester who looked round the larger office with approval.

“Well, this beats some of the places I’ve had to work,” he said. “Well done, Villnew, and I’m sure Burdock had a hand here too.”

“What’s the worst office you ever had?” asked Kiliana.

Quester gave a rueful smile.

“The  senior officers’ toilet on a war Zeppelin,” he said. “It locked, and there was someone on board out to disrupt my investigations.” He smiled whimsically. “It had lovely shiny surfaces to set up infra red sensors for when the miscreant tried to ambush me by coming through the skylight.”

“You lead an exciting life, my lord,” said Purity. “I’ll be ready to run errands, shall I move in with Miz Lewis and see what the gossip tree says?”

“Why not,” said Quester. “Burdock in charge of the kitchen, I need you helping me, Kiliana, and Hunter, who can retire with the aid of Mr. Villnew on side projects. Set me up a white board, and a map of where those girls came from, Hunter. Did you have any trouble?”

“Not for long,” said Hunter, dryly.

“There was a fellow called Hopping-Weener but we persuaded him to leave us alone,” said Burdock.

“Otherwise, one Vigilior Oppenheimer,” said Hunter. “Burdock asked him if he was a heretic to try to oppose the will of a Justiciar, and he just about wet his pants and fled.”

“Wise of him,” said Quester.

The evidence, which Hunter had signed for, held film pictures of those girls who had been found, since film could not be corrupted, or duplicated by AI. Digital pictures could be made to show almost anything. The girls had been bound with a most unusual twine.

“What do you make of this?” he asked Kiliana, passing her a sample.  Any DNA had been removed by now.

Kiliana regarded it thoughtfully.

“You know we had a kitchen garden on the Pinch Eddard Isles?” she said. “This is like the twine we used for growing beans on, threaded back and forth on a fence.”

Quester nodded. “I can’t find any suggestion that this twine has been identified; the report says, bound with heavy duty green twine, perhaps for tying parcels. Ask Purity to go round any garden or hardware malls, with her pass as my assistant, and ask if she can match it to any brand, and see how common it is. We are probably out of luck, and it’s probably as common as muck itself, but it’s worth a try. Give her enough out of petty cash to buy samples, and to pick up a meal on the way back.”

Kiliana ran off with a sample, bagged and signed for by Quester. Purity must sign it too, and then chain of evidence was maintained.

 

oOoOo

 

Quester recognised Lictor Cayban when he burst into the office.

“What the devil do you think you’re doing, stealing all my evidence?” he howled.

Quester looked up at him, briefly, and continued making notes, and looking at the photographs, to all appearances ignoring Cayban. Cayban strode forward and planted two meaty fists on the well-polished desk of the former occupant of the office. Quester looked up again from where he was examining a photo with a jeweller’s loop. He took the loop from his eye.

“Ah, Cayban, this saves me the bother of sending for you. Do sit down, and let us discuss how long you have been facilitating paedophiles with a liking for aristocratic debutants,” he said.

“I came to... what?” Cayban was rocked back.

“Well, either you are some kind of heretic to interfere with the duties of a Justiciar, or you are hiding the evidence for personal reasons,” said Quester, in his reasonable tone of voice. “You have failed to identify the linking factor between the girls, and a very pertinent link that has to the twine used to bind them.”

“There is no link between them save of social class and age,” said Cayban. “You are making it up to rattle me!”

“I hardly need to do that,” said Quester. “I find it astonishing that a supposedly capable and experienced Lictor like yourself should miss such obvious clues, without considering that you must be covering up for someone you know.  I was wondering whether I should put you to the question over it.”

Cayban fell back into the chair Hunter had set for him, and if he did not actually faint, his grey pallor and sweating brow showed how close he had come to it.

“I... I am a lictor, you cannot....”

“If I suspect heresy I can put anyone to the question,” said Quester. “Now, answer my question, if you please; confession is good for the soul and can save you much unpleasantness.” He steepled his fingers, and sat back, quizzically.

“But... but I am not a heretic!” cried Cayban. “I observe all the offices scrupulously! And... and I am not a deviant, nor do I know any!”

“Then why did you ignore the link between the girls and the link with the twine used?” demanded Quester. 

“I... there is no link! I cannot see one!” sweated Cayban.

“You do not think it significant that every one of those girls is given the name of a flower?” said Quester, in apparent astonishment. Cayban stared.

“But... they aren’t, are they?” he asked.

“Plainly botany was not on your curriculum. Your bafflement is genuine enough. Each of the girls bore the name which has grown from that of a flower; and the twine used to tie them up is garden twine. A tenuous enough link, perhaps, but further than you have got.”

“I’ll find out who does their father’s gardens, and have them brought in for questioning,” said Cayban.

“You will not,” said Quester. “Do you think I have time to waste, breaking each and every little  perrin who cuts lawns and pulls weeds.  By all means, have your men find out who does the gardens of each, and then we can cross correlate any features between them. Also any gardeners at any school or college they may have been attending, any public gardens nearby, and see if the same name of the same firm comes up more than once. Preferably in all eight cases.  And remember, it may be a blind, by a botanically minded member of their own class. Or a teacher of botany. Once we are certain, then we can act. Are there any other young girls of similar age range who have not been molested? Find me a list of debutants. Bring that to me, too. This will stop, hopefully before another young girl has to suffer. Well what are you waiting for? I have given you a sufficiency of tasks to get on with; go!”

Cayban stumbled out of the office wondering where he had lost the plot of his complaint so badly.

 

Too Many White Roses now live

 so, the next Felicia and Robin book is live in pb and ebook. 

UK & US and any other market place. 

re writing, I'll be posting soon with another Quester story.

Black falcon 11 a whip-round for Nathaniel part 2

 

11 A whip-round for Nathaniel part 2

 

The train journey to Cheyenne was smooth enough. Ida was back in a checked shirt and calf-length divided skirt to disembark, and ready to mount Goldmoon, now bearing the Cyrillic ‘L’ or Л for ‘Levchenko’ brand. He took Ida’s slight weight on his back very easily, and happily now.

“They should be coming out of church when we get to the townstead that is nearest to Nathaniel’s spread,” said Luke.  “I assume you want to humiliate him in public.”

“Yes,” said Ida. “He humiliated me, and I think he made Emma do things she hated, too.”

 

oOoOo

 

Luke’s timing was spot on. The congregation was just issuing forth from the service.

Ida saw Nathaniel Pepper and stepped forward the moment he was out of the church grounds and on the road.

“Nathaniel Pepper!  I’ve come for vengeance for your lewd and vicious usage of me!” she cried. Pepper stopped, and stared at her.  Luke suddenly realised that the colourless, ill-looking woman trailing behind him was the once-pretty Emma.

Pepper gave a shriek of rage.

“You think you can come back, slinking around me, relying on the pity of your sister, you harlot? You left the protection of my house, and you ain’t comin’ back!”

“Do you seriously expect me to want to return to someone who likes seeing little girls naked and spoiling their skin with your belt because you want to touch it?” snarled Ida. “I’ve come to whip you, and take my sister to safety.”

“Oh, Ida, please don’t!” moaned Emma.

“Shut your mouth, woman!” said Pepper. “You raised that girl to be all wrong, we’ll talk about what you did wrong later!”

Emma collapsed to her knees with a moan.

“You bastard!” cried Ida. “You’ve been taking out your anger at me escaping you on my sister! Well, I’m going to take her away.”

“What, to be a whore like you?  And with that pimp of yours?” Pepper gestured to Luke.

“Now that’s fighting talk,” said Luke. “I went along with the brides for sale as a hired gun, and as a hired gun, Miss Ida appealed for my help. So I took her to my mother. She has consented to be my wife, and I object to the filthy names you give my betrothed bride. I suggest you apologise right now.”

“In your dreams, pimp, I’ll kill you!” snarled Pepper. He drew a gun, rather awkwardly.

Luke’s hand barely seemed to twitch, and Pepper cried out, and clutched his hand protectively as Luke shot his gun out of his grasp.

“You can fight me later; the lady has prior claim,” said Luke, folding his arms, and propping himself up against the rail fence outside the church.

Ida loosed her arapnik.

“You enjoy whipping people, Nathaniel; do you like being whipped?” she said.

Emma stumbled forward and clutched Luke’s arm.

“Stop her, oh, pray, stop her!” she moaned. “It’ll only make things worse.”

“When she’s finished, if he doesn’t apologise, you’ll be a widow,” said Luke. “I won’t have him call me a pimp or Ida a whore; don’t you care? You with your fine high-minded sentiments that you had to look after her?”

Emma burst into tears.

The pastor came over.

“My son, my daughter! You cannot be thinking of violence on the Lord’s day?” he said.

“It was on a Sunday that this monster whipped a child so savagely on her bare buttocks that he made her bleed,” said Luke.  “And all the time doubtless fondling himself in the lascivious desires his disgusting acts aroused in him. She seeks retribution.”

“’Vengeance is Mine, saith the Lord, I will repay...’” stuttered the pastor.

“All very well, but it doesn’t bring healing to a hurt little girl,” said Luke. “For goodness sake! He calls her a whore, and she might have blossomed with some good food, but she was definitely no woman then. You must see what sort of man he is by the way his bright, merry wife has become old and worn in the last five months!”

“Brother Pepper is a hard man, but he is most Godly...”

Luke sneered.

“Godly? Jesus said, ‘suffer the little children to come unto me,’ but he did not add, ‘so I can break the flesh on their bodies to remind me not to desire it,’ which is what that whipping was really about. He wanted her dressed ugly so as not to be tempted, but he could not overcome his unnatural lusts, whatever.”

Luke cared little whether he had guessed the correct reason for Pepper’s harshness or not; he planned to spoil any shred of reputation the man had left after his sabotage of it the previous year.

Meanwhile, Nathaniel Pepper took off his belt.

“You need to be chastised, wench,” he said, to Ida.

“We’ll see who is chastised,” said Ida. She permitted the man one swipe at her with his belt. Then the arapnik switched out, wrapping around his wrist, painfully.

Pepper dropped the belt with a yell. He glowered; it was a fluke. He bent down for his belt.

The arapnik landed beside it in the dirt and flicked it away; and returned to strike his bending buttocks. Nathaniel Pepper howled.

There were several laughs from the crowd; the harsh man had not made himself popular, and was known for being free with his hands to messengers, but nobody had dared stand against him.

And this chit of a girl was coolly plying a blacksnake whip to toss his belt ever further, and to sting his buttocks every time he reached for it.   After three attempts, Pepper howled, and launched himself at Ida.

She was able to step back and tangle his legs to pull him off-balance, so he sprawled in the dust.

Ida pulled back her arapnik, coiling it.

“I think you owe me, and Luke, an apology,” she said.

Pepper’s hand went to his other belt, his gunbelt.

“I can whip that out of your hand, too,” said Ida. “I’m not a helpless child anymore.”

Pepper turned, picking up his belt, his hat, and his gun, as if walking away.

Then he spun round, firing deliberately at Ida.

One long leg belonging to Luke kicked her feet out from under her as the older man took up the slack on the trigger, and the bullet flew past her, close enough to feel the wind of its passing on her face as she fell. Pepper went to fan the pistol.

“You do it like this,” said Luke. His pistol appeared in his hand, and he fanned it rapidly.

Nathaniel Pepper went down.

The townsfolk noted that there were five puncture wounds in his forehead within an inch of each other.

They strategically drifted away.

“I’m going to need a statement,” said the man with the star.

“Statement, yes, when I’ve seen my bride treated for shock at being shot at,” said Luke. “If you want to press charges, you’d better hope to be quicker on the draw than me; I’m as good with my left. And I don’t plan to be arrested for killing vermin.”

“He... he fired first,” said the sheriff, unhappily. “But not at you....”

“At a girl not carrying a firearm,” said Luke. “And under my protection.  Are you going to let any man shoot at your wife, tinhorn? Because I don’t. Shucks, you were here; you can write out what happened. I’m taking my sister-in-law elect back to her farm, and you can send someone to organise the sale of it on her behalf because I’m taking her back to my mother too, for healing after this farcical period of unholy matrimony; and if you call a man like Nathaniel Pepper ‘Godly’ I fancy you’ve a damned strange idea of what the Bible is about.”

Emma had collapsed to the ground in a heap, moaning, and Ida went to her.

“What has he done to my merry sister?” she cried. “All of you here, you are to blame, too!  I complained in church that he was harsh, and what did you do, Reverend Green? Did you tell him? It was that afternoon he beat me so hard I passed out, and I don’t know if he did anything to my naked unconscious body.  And he beat Emma, too, I know, and she would cry in pain in the night when they were together. You all know what he’s like, and you are all culpable. And now you slink away in shame because you know it’s true.”

“I could not believe the story you told, child!” said the pastor. “Why, what man would make a child sit on a saddle with tacks through it?”

“A man like Nathaniel Pepper,” said Emma, coming to. “I saw it, Pastor Green! But did you verify it? No! You let him pass it off as exaggeration of slight chastisement! I’ve been praying every Sunday that I might die, and maybe someone would investigate.”

“Dear God!” said the pastor.

“You should be on your face in front of the altar praying to him for forgiveness in failing your pastoral care,” said Luke. “You’re as much transgressors the lot of you as the town who let a single bank robber use children as hostages, and called down their teacher as ‘used’ when he raped her. I hope you all burn in Hell. You deserve it. And you’re lucky I don’t have time to make my disapproval felt, as I have my womenfolk to care for.”

“Are you making threats?” demanded the sheriff.

Luke poked an offensive finger into his face, stopping just short of touching the man.

“I said, I don’t have time,” he growled. “You’ll have whatever passes for a lawyer out on my sister’s farm first thing in the morning to see about selling up, and you’ll write up this filth as he is, or I’ll take your badge from you, and make the lot of you suffer, all within the absolute letter of the law, by demanding fire drills of the fire brigade with a loud bell to call them, every four hours round the clock. Ida will spell me in that.  And every regulation on the books, I will make you all follow to the letter. And I will audit every man’s books to see that they are correct, and measure everything that can be measured, and if it is half an inch outside of a regulation size, that will be a fine or time in jail.  You know how much can be done to make a town miserable, sheriff.  And as I’m a deputy sheriff in the town I call home, and I read every damn statute book there was during the winter blizzards, I know every pettifogging annoyance there is.”

The sheriff paled.

“The lawyer will be with you first thing,” he said. “I... I don’t know who inherits....”

“Was the marriage not legal, then?” asked Luke. “It is a point of law that, as the marriage service says, ‘With all my worldly goods, I thee endow,’ and a wife is the immediate heir. If she is with child, then her child is the heir, and as its mother, she is to administer the properties. I’m not an unlettered, uncouth barbarian like Nathaniel Pepper, and I know my law.”

“I, er, yes, of course, the marriage was legal,” said the sheriff.

“And so is the widowing, and don’t forget that either,” growled Luke.

 

oOoOo

 

Emma remained quiet and chastened, despite that one burst of spirit; but Luke had no doubt that his mother would heal her.

“Did you mean it, about marrying me?” asked Ida.

“I’d be honoured, but not until you’re a year or two older,” said Luke. “And used to being in the saddle all day.”

Ida nodded.

“I’m not ready, either,” she said.

He kissed her cheek.

“I’ve not been celibate,” he said.

“Oh, I never supposed you would be,” said Ida. “But if you catch anything I will not be pleased.”

“Oh, I’m careful,” said Luke. “And don’t you go thinking that anything that fellow did to your sister is necessarily normal.”

“Oh, I assumed it wasn’t,” said Ida. “I expect Mama Jane will explain things more fully to me if she thinks you’re planning on covering me at any point.”

“I don’t think it’s called ‘covering’ for any but stallions and bulls,” said Luke, cautiously.

“Well, you knew what I meant,” said Ida, and then blushed.

“I did,” said Luke, also blushing.

 

oOoOo

 

The farm was on the market, and a man engaged to see to the animals in the meanwhile; and Luke sighed in relief that the whole of that business had only taken three days. Gradually, he found out from Emma that Pepper had been married before, and his first wife had died in childbed. The boy had been mentally defective, and had died one day, having got himself locked in the woodstore.

“And if you ask me, that man damaged his own seed in the womb, and as good as killed his wife,” said Luke to Ida. “And then doubtless beat the boy and flung him into the woodstore, and at some point hit him on the head, maybe hit him about the head and face the way he did to you, but harder, for some failure to understand, and the poor brat died of bleeding on the brain.  And he should have been taken up and questioned about it; but people don’t take much notice of children who die at the hands of their parents.”

“I wouldn’t say you’re wrong,” said Ida. “I am looking forward to being away from here.”

“And as well Blackwind will accept being harnessed to a buckboard, for your sister is too weak to ride,” said Luke, grimly. “We’ll have to take the extra quilts as luggage on the train, to pad up the buckboard for her, and a hay palliasse; we can buy another buckboard, and a tick to fill with hay at Burlington.”

 

Emma recovered some of her colour and spirit carried in the lap of luxury in the Pullman coaches, and if the last part of the journey, in a makeshift bed on a new buckboard purchased in Burlington tried her somewhat, the thought that she was free of her husband buoyed up her spirits. 

Luke took her directly to the hospital, and left her in the charge of his mother and her nurses, a mix of European and Cherokee girls.

“I am surprised Two-Moons did not come,” said Luke.

“Oh, Emma told me he did, and Nathaniel threatened to shoot him,” said Ida. “She did not want to go off with an Indian, anyway.”

“More fool her,” said Luke.

Ida sighed.

“I fear so,” she said. “I did sound her out about running away with me, but she said she had made her bed and must lie on it.”

Luke manfully suppressed a snort.

“Well, you will see her healed in spirit as well as body, here,” he said.

“Yes, and though I want to come with you, I also want to help her,” said Ida.

“You’ll learn a lot about nursing, which will do you no harm,” said Luke. “I will go back to Eastbend for a while; and then, I think I’ll go wandering again, pick up some bounty, help out here and there. I don’t want to settle yet; there’s so much of this big country to explore.”

“And later, I will join you,” said Ida.

“If you still want to,” said Luke.

She stood on tiptoes to kiss him; and then whirled away.

Luke raised his fingers to his lips as if to capture the kiss.

It was a kiss which Luke was amazed to feel burning many times, long after he had returned to Eastbend, and even after he moved out on other adventure bent.

 

The end of the beginning.

 

Black Falcon 11 a whip-round for Nathaniel part 1

 

11 A Whip-round for Nathaniel part 1

 

Luke adored his family, but it was not entirely duty which sent him back to Eastbend after Christmas.  There was more of a frontier feel, as yet, to Eastbend, which the Levchenko ranch did not have, despite being somewhat isolated. Dmitro Levchenko and his English wife were extremely efficient, and the ranch might as well have been a small town, for having all the facilities any farmer could want, save for a store. The hands made their own vodka, mead, and beer, and their common room was a bar, a music hall, a theatre, and a meeting hall. The little chapel saw to their spiritual needs, and any other socialisation was around the blacksmith’s anvil, in the big stable block and barn, which served as a rather noisy warming house in the winter, and where tall tales were told, songs of more or less ribald nature sung, and much business accomplished in a convivial manner. The barn was used for sabre drill, target practice, and hopak. The forge fire also heated water for the wash-house and steam bath house, which had a women’s room and a men’s room, and was backed by the hospital where Jane Levchenka presided at need. The hospital was tiled with locally made salt-glazed tiles, not as fine as white porcelain, but easier to keep clean than wooden walls. The blacksmith’s forge was given over at times to the making of pottery, to make such tiles, and simple storage jars, and the blacksmith himself presided over tinker-work in the mending and making of pots and pans, his numerous children as his apprentices.  The schoolroom had at first also been run by Jane Levchenka, but now had two full-time teachers, for those aged five to ten, and the seniors, eleven to fifteen.  One of the older girls was learning teaching in giving a class to those preschool children there were, in learning their letters and numbers, and in bad weather, the children slept in the schoolrooms rather than risk travelling to outlying buildings. All that was needed was bought in by mail order, and twice a year, Dmitro drove forty miles to the railhead with wagons to collect what had been sent. Inside the stockade of what was known as Kozachi Laheri, the settlement was defensible and self-sufficient. Covered ways and underground tunnels made going out into the snow unnecessary.

It was a wonderful place; but in some ways, it was too cosy for Luke. He felt a need to cut loose; and his father understood this, that he had a need to go Cossacking as Dmitro had done in his own youth. Luke was grateful that, although his mother did not fully understand, she accepted.

It meant that he was happier to come home to visit; there were no tears and exhortations to stay, which he had heard from some young men was the way of many mothers. So Luke drove off, using the sleigh with its tent, and extra poles for a horse shelter, with Blackwind tethered behind, and came into Eastbend to lodge with Big Betsy in her new tea rooms and boarding house, where Carrie and Marilla might earn their way waiting, cooking, and singing, and any other arrangements being of a private nature.

All of them hugged him.

This was extremely gratifying, and Luke was not about to complain.  He knew he would have a welcome with either Sam or the banker and his family, but Luke felt that was an intrusion. And the girls needed the custom.

“Now, tell us all about that nice little girl who looked like she was in a claiming mood,” said Betsy.

“I don’t know about that; I helped her to rescue herself from as nasty a piece of dung as I have ever met,” said Luke. “How a man who preaches the Gospel like a preacher can simultaneously fondle the bollocks of the devil in taking delight in the torture of innocents is beyond my ken.  Surely anyone who believes in the love of God must be filled with joy at His infinite mercy and grace, not be made dour by the contemplation of the perceived sins of others? Are we not all sinners, who but strive? How can he hope to please the Good Lord by such?”

“Oh, sweetie, you are such an innocent,” said Betsy, plying him with tea and lemon cookies. “There’s them as have such small faith they fear Hell, and seek to mortify themselves in life, to avoid punishment in the afterlife, and seek to find virtue in pointing out the motes in the eyes of others.”

“It seems a very silly way to worship, to me,” sniffed Luke.

“Well, Falcon, your faith gave me more than I’ve had for years,” said Betsy. “And we all goes to church these days, respectably clad, no bar-girl clothes for three nice refined ladies with a teashop, mind you.”

Luke hid a grin, as Carrie had uninhibitedly pulled up her skirts to show him that she was wearing the lacy stockings he had bought her.

“All very well, but are you going to marry her?” demanded Marilla. “That Ida child, I mean.”

“I... the idea had never occurred to me,” said Luke, shocked, going red at the thought of having woken up in a most improper embrace.

“Isn’t it sweet? He blushes like a schoolboy,” said Carrie. “What Marilla means is, are you off-limits?”

“Not until Ida grows up and we can re-visit the idea then,” retorted Luke.

This might not have been the right tactical move, as both girls squealed and kissed him.

 

Luke was firm, when invited by both Sam and by the Spences to stay, that he must make his own way, and would consider throwing up a home of his own come spring.

Moreover, Betsy and her girls appeared to have a rota to make sure he felt welcome, and Luke was as happy as any man to enjoy a healthy relationship with no strings attached.

He did have to insist that he would pay for his accommodation, even if the attentions of the women was on a purely voluntary basis.

If no money changed hands for anything but board and lodging, nobody could accuse Betsy of running a bawdy house.

 

Spring came to Eastbend, and with it, a letter for Luke.

“Dear Luke,

Papa Dmitro will not permit me to come on my own to meet you, but perhaps we could meet in Denver? He is willing to see me to Denver, whilst selling horses. I have been practising with arapnik and I want to rescue Emma.

Yours, Ida.”

“Maybe she is a catch at that; she has the virtue of brevity,” said Luke to Betsy. “I don’t want her to be hurt if she comes here.”

“Oh, we’ll be discreet,” said Betsy. “A man is entitled to relaxation when he’s single.  Mind, if you marry her, and visit my girls, I’ll beat you black and blue.”

“I’d deserve it,” said Luke.

He sent a wire back.

 

“Ida,

I know Papa’s habits. I’ll be there.

Luke.”

 

oOoOo

 

Luke wondered why he was feeling nervous as the train pulled into Denver. He had sent ahead a wire to say he had boarded the train at Burlington; the wire would be in Denver hours ahead of him.  His father stayed as a matter of course at the Windsor Hotel since it had opened, to take advantage of its Turkish bath house, being similar enough to the Cossack way.  It was a luxury hotel, but Dmitro was sufficiently used to the fine things in life to fit in as seamlessly as he did when living rough, droving cattle.  Dmitro had written separately to his son, explaining that they were taking cattle to Denver to sell for meat, after the long winter, and anticipated fair profits for having good, well-fed beasts, as a result of having prepared, like Joseph in Egypt, for lean years. The Bible provided good lessons on how to live one’s life, and be prepared, if one only read the stories and absorbed the message.

Luke crossed himself and kissed his crucifix; God was indeed good.

 

Ida waited for the train, wondering why she was so nervous and why she had so many butterflies in her belly.  She was beautifully turned out; Mama Jane had declared that no daughter of the house, adopted or otherwise, was going to give the folks of Denver any cause to look down on her, and she smoothed the pretty blue and brown flannel plaid overgown which was matched by the cuffs and facings of the bodice, and a wide ruffle on the blue skirt of the main body of the dress. She felt a real young lady.

And she did not mind being a real young lady, since she was permitted dungarees, Cossack trousers, or divided skirt on the ranch, and when droving the cattle.

She had been paid for it, too; twenty dollars for an apprentice hand. Even though most of her duties were in helping with the chuck-wagon, and any sort of errand-running that might be needed; the same job, Kyril,  whom she thought of as the Ranny, whatever he called it in his own tongue, told her that Luke had done a few years previously. Ida was glad to be able to do a real job of work.

 

The train snorted and puffed its way into the station, and after it stopped, Ida saw Luke’s tall, handsome figure climb down, typical of Luke, helping a woman with a gaggle of children as well.

Ida had promised herself she would not squeal or run to him, but she did both, and launched herself on him.

Luke caught her, and swung her round, then set her down to look at her.

“What’s this? Where’s my little buddy?  You’ve gone and fledged into a woman just because I’m away a couple of months,” said Luke.

“Oh, I am your little buddy too,” said Ida, fervently. “But Mama Jane said I should dress as a lady in Denver.”

“Oh, I suppose she’s right,” said Luke. “I’m not sure I approve of you wearing one of those corsets with stuffed bosoms though,” he added, looking at her figure with a frown.

“I’m not!” said Ida, injured. “I sort of increased my figure since you felt it on the way home, and... and you hadn’t noticed.”

Luke went scarlet.

“I apologise for that,” he said. “I hoped you hadn’t noticed. I didn’t want to embarrass you, or frighten you into thinking I was the sort of man Nathaniel might well be.”

“I wasn’t frightened,” said Ida. “I know you’re very proper when you’re awake, but your hands like me.”

Luke flushed again.

“Tarnation! You’re too young for my hands to misbehave like that!” he said, angrily.

“My bosoms forgave them,” said Ida. “I know you would not cross the line and do anything I did not like. But there is more of them now.”

“We won’t be sharing a tent, again, then,” said Luke.

“We won’t have to; we can have separate bunks on the Pullman,” said Ida.

“You’ll have your own compartment,” said Luke. “I need Blackwind; he’ll be cross if he gets left in the caboose.”

 

Dmitro was removing Blackwind from the caboose, and he caught Luke’s eye. Luke blushed.

“She’s become a woman, since you saw her, you know,” said Dmitro.

“She still has some growing up to do, and if her sister comes with her, she’ll want to look after her. And I’m too young, too,” said Luke.

Dmitro nodded.

“Another year will make all the difference to both of you,” he said. “I’ll be waiting here for you to send her back, with Emma, if she’s coming, and if Emma wants to marry someone else, well, she could do worse than Kyril, who is wistful about the idea of sons. I’m guessing you’ll be about returning to your friend, Sam?”

“She might have gone off with Two-Moons of course,” said Luke. “We’ll find out.  If she has, I’ll send Ida back to you and check if Emma’s happy.” He considered Dmitro’s question. “I’m building a house in Eastbend. Though I probably will go wandering when this business of Nathaniel is sorted out. I’m getting itchy feet.”

Dmitro laughed.

“Isn’t it a good job that Danko takes after his English half, home-loving, and a born farmer, so that you can take after your Cossack half, my boy,” he said.

Luke joined in his laughter. His father’s mirth was always infectious. 

“I am your falcon, I always have been,” he said.

“Aye, and you bring down prey relentlessly. Will you kill this Nathaniel?”

“Not unless he demands a gun fight,” said Luke. “I was going to let Ida whip him for the pain and humiliation he caused her, nothing more, and remove her sister to safety unless she is fool enough to cleave to him.”

“As well to be temperate,” agreed Dmitro. “Don’t let him rile you, now.”

“I won’t, Papa,” said Luke.