Market Theocracy

6. Showdown

Idyll’s end.

The cat woke her up on that last peaceful morning. Hope attempted to ignore him, and that resulted in the first and only time that he laid the claws to her. Despite her cursing and empty threats, it really wasn’t all that bad. No blood drawn at least.

After she’d wiped the sleep from her eyes and splashed cold water on her face to aid the wake-up, she was thinking of coffee when she saw the cat staring out the window, tail swishing in agitation.

And she heard that laugh.

That goddamn familiar, awful laugh.

She looked out the window and there stood Ugly Jim in the center of town, facing down three bulky men on horseback.

Riders.

She moved quickly, tossing on her clothes and the gunbelt, then racing down the stairs to the porch of the rooming house. Despite her non-committal tone when Jim had pressed her on signing up for temporary deputy duty, she had no intention of allowing assholes to harass and harry her friends and neighbors. In fact, the main force behind her refusal was a gut feeling that getting paid to stand up to such assholes was on the less than honorable side of the ledger. And Hope had no desire to live on that side of the ledger anymore.

Later, she’d wish she’d stayed at the window. Had taken advantage of the height and the surprise to shoot those bastards down where they stood. Spilt milk being what it was; she may have had the instincts of a gunfighter, but the hard lessons of experience only get learned the one way.

She was coming off the stairs when she stopped. Carina Castleberry stood at the ready by the door, grimly holding a huge and ancient shotgun. The sight struck Hope as both comical and moving. The idea of this sweet and indulgent woman instantly ready to defend herself and her own caused tears and a laugh to war inside her heart. And steeled her resolution to end this situation in the town’s favor.

Mizz Castleberry saw her and moved away from the door in a manner that functioned as a vote of confidence.

Hope stepped into the sun of the morning, heart racing but will steady and strong.

Ugly Jim didn’t take his eyes from the Riders, but all three of them turned to look at the new arrival.

Hope’s heart sank when she saw those faces. Rage and fear and an old and secret shame she’d hoped to never feel again welled up inside her.

All three of the riders wore the faces of her husbands friends. His particularly close friends. The ones he’d shared with.

Rapists. Scum. What they’d done to her was horrible enough — but that was the past and a world away. What truly angered her — what caused the rage to drown out the fear and shame — was that they dared to follow her into this world.

The middle rider laughed that hateful laugh again."Looks like Ugly Jim done found him a purty Deputy."

Her skin crawled. She felt her stomach knot in revulsion.

Then she felt the soft brush at her leg. Felt the rumbling purr vibrate through denim and skin and bone and into her soul.

The cat was with her. No matter what she faced she did not face it alone. That purr settled her stomach and calmed her nerves.

She smiled. It was a vicious smile. And she was rewarded with the smile leaving the face of the rider. And a gleam of fear in his eyes.

"Mizz Hope" Jim said, quietly, eyes not leaving his enemy, hand hovering at the ready above his holster.

"Jim." she replied. "We got trouble? Seems a shame to bloody up such a pretty morning."

As she spoke she moved to stand beside him. Casually, as if she were just ambling to the General store. The cat followed in his usual way, weaving around and about her feet in a feline dance.

The riders — those hated, familiar faces — stared at her in contempt and dislike, but there was no recognition that she could see. Unlike her, it seemed that they had not made it into the Borderlands with memory intact.

Or, another part of her opined, perhaps she no longer resembled the timid and frightened woman she had been.

"Well, I guess that depends on the boys here." Jim drawled. He was as casual as her, but Hope could sense the fierce appreciation radiating from him. "How about it boys? You on a mission to ruin a perfectly good morning?"

The middle rider sneered. Then he shook his head. "Just bringing in the word, Ugly. The boss is coming. He’ll be here in three days. He wants the usual. You see that he gets it."

"Or what?" Hope said. She almost spat the words.

All three riders laughed, as if she’d said the dumbest thing in the world.

"Pretty but stupid, I see. Listen well girly: the boss gets what he wants or Summertime City burns. To the ground. And we piss on the ashes."

For a moment the rage threatened to boil over. An image of the gun in her hand and falling trick pins bloomed in her mind’s eye, and it was an image of almost impossibly seductive beauty.

"Is that the way of it?" she asked.

"That’s the way it’s always been."

"Things change."

The rider raised an eyebrow. "That so? You think you got the steel to change the way of the world?"

The words of the boneman came to her, clear as a bell and as sweetly chiming. Find a world to challenge.

"And then some, boy." She emphasized that last.

The look on the rider’s face was deadly. He spat on the ground before looking away, addressing Jim.

"You see we got the usual waiting, Ugly. You know what’s good for you. Best not let addle headed girls with big ideas go turning your head from sense."

And he spurred his horse, wheeled and rode out. His companions followed suit.

As the dust cloud they stirred up drifted and settled, people began to emerge. They tossed looks at Jim and Hope as they did. Quick looks for the most part, with a mix of emotions. Mostly fear. But there was a measure of respect there, as well. And more than a hint of some dark amusement.

Jim chuckled. When she looked at him, he was shaking his head. Those blue eyes in that ruined face gleamed with the same mix of emotions as the townsfolk — but the respect dominated with him.

"Mizz Hope, I must say — you don’t do nothing by half." The chuckle became a full laugh and he put a hand on her shoulder with real affection. "I’d say those riders haven’t heard a challenge like that in all their days with the Boss."

Hope considered telling him of her personal connection with these particular riders, but thought better of it. Instead, she gestured to the shade of the porch. As they made their way to a more comfortable spot, she asked some questions.

"Who is this Boss?"

Jim just shrugged. "Bandit. Old and smart and mean. Plays about three towns for this yearly tribute business. Lives well on it I suppose."

"And what is this usual they mentioned."

Jim sighed. "Coin and lots of it. Food and plenty. Dope. ‘Botics, painkillers, that sorta. And sometimes…" He paused.

Hopes chest tightened. "Sometimes what?"

"Sometimes they want a couple women. Girls. You know." Hope hadn’t known that the scarred flesh of Jim’s face could blush until then.

The tightness in her chest turned to ice. "And you think this year is one of those sometimes?"

He just nodded.

"So. What do we do?"

Jim was silent for a moment, eyes closed. Then he took a deep breath and looked her right in the eye.

"I been Sheriff for three years, Mizz Hope. All three of those years I knuckled under when the riders came. I figured that coin and food and drugs — no matter how precious — were a better price than a load of dead townsfolk, than fighting off dozens of hardasses. And they’ll come in dozens, ma’am — count on it. The Boss has an army at his disposal."

His face grew still but his eyes danced with passion and conviction.

"But I swore that when they asked for my folk…when they went beyond things into demanding I co-operate with slavery….I swore I’d be buried first."

Hope smiled at him, relieved.

"And I didn’t swear that lightly." His hand went to the gun on his hip, an instinct. "And I swear it still."

"You’re a damn fine man, Jim."

He just nodded. Then his eyes met hers again.

"And what about you? You with me? You gonna back that challenge up?"

Faith stood. She thought about who and what those men had been in the old world. She thought about the words of the boneman. She thought about the welcome the people of Summertime City had given a peaceful stranger. About Carina Castleberry at the door with a shotgun. She looked down at the cat. He was staring right back, inscrutable face radiating the only answer she could make.

She gave Jim the same scary smile she’d offered the riders. Her hand dropped to the cold and ready steel of her gun.

"You’re damned right I’ll back it up, Jim."

She looked around the street. Saw that all eyes were on her and the Sheriff. So she raised her voice to take in all who watched.

"We fight."