A World of InTemperance (The Adventures of Ichabod Temperance Book 2) (4 page)

Goosebumps rise along my arms.

“Vernon Cambridge was nobody’s fool. He was as smart and good a man as ever there was. He lost his life savin’ mine, but them dumb animals outsmarted Vernon Cambridge hisself, and killed him.”

Miss GoldenBear gasps.

“
Killed him!
That does not sound like normal buffalo behavior to me, either. Thank you, Mr. O’Malley.”

“Yes’m.”

Goose steps out.

“This is disquieting information indeed,” says Miss GoldenBear. “I knew there were strange behaviors at play in the animal kingdom, but for herd animals to plan and purposely kill a human is more than I expected.”

“I say, the mighty buffalo are close to being hunted into extinction. Perhaps the Revelatory Comet has granted these persecuted brutes the intelligence necessary to protect themselves from complete destruction, eh hem?”

“I think this is where we disembark our airship and continue on horseback. Ichabod, you go secure us horses and saddles. Persephone and I will see to our baggage.”

“I require many baggage horses, Mr. Temperance.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Belay that order, Ichabod, three horses will do. Persephone, we will send your baggage and ‘cello’ with Captain Half-toe to be waiting for us in Alvarado City.”

“Yes, of course, Abigail. Run along, Mr. Temperance, Miss GoldenBear is correct.”

*~~~*

“Oh, golly, this sure is a dark and spooky night, ain’t it, y’all?”

“I say, let’s not be overly dramatic, Mr. Temperance.”

“To tell the truth, Persephone, there is a peculiar, even ‘spooky’, aura in nature’s tone, tonight. It has been three days since we left the
Scheherazade
. The unusual thing about the animal activity has been the lack thereof. These woods, day or night, should be teeming with wildlife. Instead, they are deathly silent.”

“Can I at least make us a fire?”

“I would rather not, Ichabod. I think I prefer to follow the example of the animals, remaining quiet and hidden.”

“Are you serious, Abigail?”

“I am, Persephone, so please, keep your voice low. Ichabod, go quiet the horses, they’re nervous.”

“Yes, Ma’am, Miss GoldenBear, Ma’am.”

“By Jove, you’re right, Abigail. I believe I sensed it myself, but did not want to show myself as being soft.”

“Nonsense Persephone, I advise you to trust your instincts, always.”

“Thank you, Abigail, I will endeavor to do so.”

“Right now, my instincts are telling me to remain alert.”

“Mr. Temperance, you were instructed to soothe the horses, sir.”

“I’m trying Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am, but they are getting more nervous by the minute.”

“Perhaps the weather makes the horses nervous. The wind
is
picking up, eh hem?”

“I hear the wind, in the trees, whipping through the leaves. It has entered the valley, North and East of our position.”

“Yes, Abigail, and I can hear it headed Southward.”

“The front of the storm is passing a few miles behind us.”

“Am I mistaken, or has the wind shifted back Northward? I say, Abigail, I can still track the front of our windstorm. I know it sounds absurd, but I think the storm has made a circle around us, almost as if...”

“As if it were looking for something?”

“Yes, quite, or, someone, as it were, eh hem?”

“Shhh. Easy, horsies. Woah, woah, woah. Shhh. Quiet horsies, it’s just a little wind. You don’t need to be so upset. Shh, woah there, it’s all right.”

“Ichabod, cut the horses loose.”

“Miss GoldenBear, are you serious, Ma’am?”

“Do it! Do it, now Ichabod!”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

“Wow, them horses did not hesitate one second! They took off like their tails were on fire!”

“The cursed wind has found us! It oppresses, as a cyclone. More than that, it brings the most unsettling sensation of being watched.”

“Quiet, Persephone, I’m trying to listen.”

“You cannot possibly hear anything over the tumult of this storm.”

“Yes, I can. So can you, if you listen.”

“Oh dear, yes, I hear them. The howls of many wolves hunting as an excited pack.”

“Come on, ladies, let’s run!”

“Okay, Ichabod.”

“Yes, hear, hear, I say, Mr. Temperance, let us flee for our lives, eh hem?”

“We cannot outrun them.”

“Where’s the best place to fight them?”

“This forest provides no place of tactical advantage.”

“What do we do?”

“Stop, they are catching up. We make our stand right here. Persephone, you have your parasol and one of Ichabod’s pistols. Ichabod, you and I have our rifles. I suggest not opening fire unless we have to.”

“I’ll use the nice end of the rifle on this first one running up.”

~whap!~

“Yipe! Arn, arn, arn!”

“Nice shot, Ichabod! You sent that big bad wolf spinning and running! That slowed the whole pack down from overrunning our position.”

“I say, yes, that one, well placed strike has stemmed the initial onslaught; however, the pack now moves to find an opening of opportunity and attack.”

“Keep our backs together. Keep your eyes watching out.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

A score of huge wolves hop from rock to rock all about us looking for the right opening.

The dark shadows of the lupine shapes snap and snarl.

Miss GoldenBear discourages them with the butt of her rifle while I kick at the more curious fellows. Miss Plumtartt opens and closes her parasol in a discouraging manner.

“Shoo, shoo!”

“I ain’t really in favor of slaying these beasts by firearm, but I ain’t eager to get ette, neither.”

“Hold your fire, Ichabod; something is not right here.”

“I say, is it just me, but are these animals not in the thrall of that one great old wolf over there, eh hem?”

“Do you mean that snaggle-toothed, one-eared, one-eyed, gnarly old flea bucket glaring at us, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am?”

“I say, though he is battle-worn, that primeval canine emanates a brutal intelligence. The vicious old boy really does appear to be directing the assaults of his pack. Could he have some sort of psychic connection with his wolf pack? Perhaps he is a Revelatory Comet influenced being, eh hem?”

“Miss GoldenBear, this forest has left us with no retreat. Even if we do open fire, they may still have the numbers to over-run us.”

“I may be able to help. Ichabod, stand by with your tinder box.”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

At Miss GoldenBear’s signal, I spark my striker. Simultaneously, she throws a large pinch of specially prepared powder into the source of ignition.

A fiery red ball of smoke bursts into existence, filling the immediate area with a choking crimson miasma.

The wolves jump back from the smoke, sneezing in discomfort. The pack shakes their heads to dispel the fumes. The winds quickly blow the smoke away.

The old wolf gives a few short wolflike excuse for a bark.

So to, do the other wolves take up an odd, doglike bark.

The old boy starts to howl.

So too the whole blood thirsty pack begins to howl.

“Aw, heck, these wolfies are laughing at us!”

After a few humiliating moments, the vulpine chorus settles back down.

A different mood comes over the pack.

They smell blood.

“This may be the time to resort to our firearms, my friends.”

“I say, our one-eyed leader psychically positions his troops for optimal assault value.”

“Oh, Goodness, that creepy feeling of being watched is stronger than ever, y’all.”

“Quite so, Mr. Temperance, in fact, I’d say this pack is under its spectral influence, eh hem?”

A crash is heard from the direction in which we just came. It is a distant, but heavy fall, and enough to break the bloodlust in the wolfpack.

Another sound of crashing movement follows, much closer than the first. Darkness holds its source in secret.

The wolfpack begins to whine and look around at their homely leader.

Sounds of something big in the forest move inexorably towards us.

The leader of the pack looks between us and the approaching calamity and then upward, toward the localized wind. With a new found determination, he snarls, barks, and howls his pack into action.

A dozen wolves jump down from rocks, and up from fallen trees to charge at us.

Huge shapes ram the wolves broadside at avalanche speed.

“Bears, oh my!”

Nearly a score of big bears swipe the wolves one way or another in an unstoppable fury. They continue after the pack without a look at us.

“Come on, y’all, let’s follow after ‘em!”

“RARRRR!”

“I say, that one tremendous old fellow indicates that we may not be welcome, eh hem?”

“No Ma’am, Miss Plumtartt, Ma’am. Let’s just kind of back off and let ‘em alone.”

“This looked like an outside influence affecting the wolves, but I think a natural resistance to this un-natural act spurred the bears to act, not so much save us, but to dispel the unwanted control.”

“I say, this confirms in my mind our earlier suspicions. Something unusual would appear to be afoot, eh, hem?”

P.O.V. Ichabod

“Alvarado City on the San Francisco Bay! Oh my Goodness, ain’t she grand?”

“I say, the gangs of cut-throats, pirates and Shanghai recruitment efforts aside, I suppose this busy harbour does have a certain, if pungent, charm, eh hem? Why, this little city is nearly as cosmopolitan as London, with her abundance of coal-powered steam-carriages and tractors.”

“I’m just happy we made it here. You sure did a swell job of getting us back to civilization, Miss GoldenBear, Ma’am.”

“Thanks, Ichabod, but if this is your idea of civilization, you can keep it. I liked it back in the woods.”

I smell fresh grass.

I shake my head.

I should not have smelled that.

“Do you ladies smell grass?”

“I say, I find myself under assault by many scents, Mr. Temperance. Horse manure, coal smoke, sea air, fish, and rotting refuse suffuse the atmosphere with an array of scents, but sadly, fresh cut grass is not one of them.”

“Yeah, Ichabod, all I’m getting is horse poop, coal smoke, stale steam, and cheap perfume from those willing girls on the corner.”

“Yes, Ma’ams, that’s all I’m getting too. I only smelled it for a moment; I reckon it was just my imagination.”

I get a brief whiff of hay, cut grass, and honeysuckle.

My companions hold handkerchiefs splashed with an essence of petunias to protect them from the foul smells in our vicinity.

Now all I smell are the normal stinks, but for a moment, that honeysuckle smelled so real! It was distinctive, and at odds with my surroundings, but then, just as quickly, it was gone.

The sun warms my fur, relieving the itchiness.

“What!”

“Are you in distress, Mr. Temperance?”

“Um, oh, uh, no Ma’am, I don’t think so, Ma’am.”

“You look suspicious, Ichabod.”

“Hunh? What? Who? Me? Um, No, I’m all right, it’s nothing, really. Never mind. Sorry, ladies.”

Miss Plumtartt gives me a suspicious look.

For a few seconds, I felt as if I were covered in a scratchy, wiry, pelt of fur, and was warming myself in the sunshine, as opposed to this freezing port after dark.

I cast about. We stand upon a busy dock facing the San Francisco Bay. It is early evening and in a quest to secure passage to Alaska we find ourselves on the quay amongst the detritus of the sea.

Chinamen rattle away at an incomprehensible speed in a language I cannot begin to understand. Dangerously overloaded wagons fight for the right of way on crowded streets. A few gas street lights and store front kerosene lanterns dimly illuminate our way along fog enshrouded avenues. Barricades of barrels, castles of crates, and stacks of sacks await their transport. Horse, oxen, and steamer-trams do the pulling. The universal presence of dogs is in evidence. One homely mutt looks at me with sad eyes. Fine feathered fowl fetched for foreign fare fill fragile frames. Cats and rats play hide and seek amongst the food vendors.

“Good news, Ichabod and Persephone, I have managed to book passage on a schooner headed North. ‘The Cow’s Song’ is bound for Kuetinpeenk, of the Alaskan territories. She sails on the morning tide.”

“I say, that is fortuitous. Let us stop for dinner and peruse the local papers that we might apprise ourselves of current events, eh hem?”

The Alvarado Avocado:

SENATOR S. MILEY TOUFAES GIVES
PASSIONATE PLEA TO LEGISLATURE!

In a boldly impassioned plea to his fellow Congressmen, Senator S. Miley Toufaes states the clear moral imperative of our country’s continued use of the Manifest Destiny Doctrine. “It is not enough,” states Senator S. Miley Toufaes, “that our great land should stretch from sea to shining sea. No Sir, this is a time of bold action. It is time for this great American Eagle to stretch her wings and fly. Our next goal of expansion should be North and South. I say Manifest Destiny is not just coast to coast, but Pole to Pole! Our goal, Gentlemen, and the literate women in the country that can follow my meaning, is this: the great United States of America is destined by God Himself to rule this hemisphere, and not just as the United States of America. In this Centennial year of our Country’s founding, I propose we accept the predestined role as ordained by God Himself: We shall become the United States Empire of the Americas!”

The Western Perspective:

SAN DIEGO WELCOMES FLEETS.

In an awe-inspiring show of military might, the United States Navy has her entire Pacific Fleet off the coast of and in San Diego. The amount of Naval ships in the harbor has never been seen before. And now, the wet Navy is joined by the United States’ new Airship Fleets. This airborne armada comprises the grandest state of the art Zeppelins ever conceived. Everywhere throughout the city, and even in the skies above, our country’s military makes its presence known. San Diego is about to slide into the Ocean under the weight of this military hardware.

Bi-Weekly World Interests:

SASQUATCH MARRIED MY SISTER!

MOON ON COLLISION COURSE WITH EARTH!

SUPERNATURAL OCCURENCES AT ALL TIME HIGH!

This paper has long held that Supernatural events have been occurring all around us; however, this time, we are not even kidding! From Poltergeists and Vampires, to Werewolves and Goblins, this city and every other city on the planet has had an exponential jump in strange, unusual, and difficult to explain phenomena.

“Excuse me, ladies, I’m going to step outside to partake of my pipe.”

It is pretty cold outside. I turn my collar up, and pull my derby down against the night air. I spark, and enjoy the taste and smell of the cherry root tobacco.

~“Bolt!”~

A flash of sunshine, grass, hay, and a young, blond-haired boy calling my name, momentarily fills my mind.

Calling my name? Bolt?

The usual street traffic is around me. No one else seems to have heard a young boy call out. No children are in sight. This is very strange.

There is a dog sitting and looking at me. That is the same sad-eyed dog I saw earlier.

“Bolt?”

“Harunh, roof!” cries the excited doggie, who jumps up and runs to me. Such a pitiful creature, he is so sad and hungry and alone.

“Making new friends, Mr. Temperance?”

“Oh, Miss Plumtartt, can you please go back to the restaurant and fetch this little feller a little something to eat? He’s awfully hungry, Ma’am.”

“Mr. Temperance, you and I are not responsible for... oh, I say, he is a dear little chap, isn’t he? Oh, sigh, very well, wait here, Mr. Temperance, I shall return shortly.”

“Ichabod, if you feed that dog, you will never get rid of him.”

“Why would I want him to go?”

“Good question. Ah, here is Persephone with some food.”

“Oh, golly, thank you, Miss Plumtartt!”

“My word, he
is
hungry, isn’t he? Bon apetite, monsieur.”

“Bolt. His name is Bolt, Miss Plumtartt.”

“How do you know that, Mr. Temperance?”

“Um, I don’t know, I just do.”

“Ichabod, did this dog tell you his name?”

“Um, yes, Ma’am, Miss GoldenBear, Ma’am, I think he did.”

“Can we keep him, Miss Plumtartt?”

“Abigail?”

“I think our party has just grown by one. Welcome aboard, Mr. Bolt.”

*~~~*

“At least our group is balanced, two boys and two girls,”

“Yes, Ma’am, Miss GoldenBear. Bolt’s happy to belong to a group. Dogs are pack animals and normally do not fare well on their own. With Bolt in the mix, we are starting to feel like a pack.”

“I say, you like being at sea, with the wind in your fur, do you not, Mr. Bolt?”

“Roof!”

“Sorry, Ichabod and Persephone, but I can’t resist: ‘Land ho.’ I see the first signs of a distant shoreline.”

“It’s been a pleasant voyage, but I can’t wait to be on solid ground again.”

“Quite so, Mr. Temperance. I look forward to viewing a portion of the vast North American Pacific coast.”

“Yes, Ma’am, me too! It’s supposed to be awfully pretty.”

“Roof!”

“I say, we are all well aware of your seaman enthusiasm, Mr. Bolt, sir.”

“Roof!”

“Yes, Ma’am, he likes being at sea, but I think he is distracted by something else. Oh, I see, it’s a herd of whales!”

“You are correct, Ichabod: there is a grouping of whales, sporadically cresting the surface of the North Pacific to clear their blow-holes, and refill their lungs.”

“Roof.”

“What’s the matter, Bolt? You look real serious, buddy. Don’t worry, them whales ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“Roof.”

“Please be quiet, Mr. Temperance, I believe Bolt is trying to concentrate.”

“I think you’re right, Persephone.”

“Do y’all think he is in psychic communication with one of them whales?”

“Precisely so, Mr. Temperance. There are some in this world who contend that whales and porpoises possess an elevated intelligence, far beyond what is the common belief.”

“Gee whiz, I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Maybe there is a whale that has been affected by the ‘Revelatory’ Comet among them.”

“Golly, if that’s so, I wonder what sort of communication is passing between them?”

*~~~*

“Do you think the Hotel will have any objections to having Bolt as a guest, Miss GoldenBear?”

“Probably not, Ichabod, dogs are held in high regard in this area.”

“I say, do you know the meaning behind this tall, wooden, statue of sorts, eh hem?”

“Yes, Persephone, it’s called a ‘Totem’ pole. This is a lovely example of the local reverence for nature.”

“Is it just me, or is there a distinct lack of sunlight, y’all?”

“I say, it’s our proximity to the Northern Pole, Mr. Temperance. At this time of year, and the further north we travel, the days are quickly shrinking to nothing. What little sunlight there is, is very weak. The sun has retreated so far south as to be in full retirement. If there is an opening in the cloud cover, that is, though there’s not much chance of that.”

“Yes, ma’am. I tell you what, I wanna see a kayak, and some huskies and an igloo and...”

The window of a local saloon bursts outward in an explosive cloud of crystal raindrops by the passage of an airbourne body. Half a moment later, another man’s body is flung through the aperture. The two men do not dally, but hurry on their way.

“Strudel noggin!” shouts a familiar German accent. “Cheat me at the cards, would you! I fix you, but good! Ja!”

An enraged, but immaculately groomed face, handsomely framed in a short beard, projects itself out the freshly opened portal. “Come back here, you Schweinhund, that I may throw you out again!”

“Howdy, Mr. Metzger, what’s the matter? Wouldn’t them boys stand still for one of your silhouettes?”

He turns his angry features towards me.

Recognition and delight spread across his flushed face.

“Ichabod Temperance! But you’re supposed to be...”

The robust man becomes weak in the knees, so Miss GoldenBear and I step forward to support his weight as Miss Plumtartt pats the man’s wrist.

“I didn’t mean to shock you, Wolfgang. I’m okay.”

“Ichabod, I thought you were dead!”

“At the risk of plagiarism, the reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

“I am so glad to hear it. We must relate this news to Mademoiselle.”

“Is she here?”

“Of course. Vhere I am, so too is the Mademoiselle, for I go vhere Mademoiselle goes. I am her manservant und body-guard.”

“I say, Wolfgang, this hotel you have led us back to is the very establishment where we are registered. How serendipitous!”

“Ah, here we are, she is in the dining room. I beg your pardon, Mademoiselle, but a couple of acquaintances from our ocean voyages have turned up.”

A fair haired woman, slim and very attractive, stands and turns; her fine fashion sense is matched by an easy sophistication.

“Howdy, Mademoiselle Gauzot!”

“Monsieur Ichabod Temperance, this is truly an unexpected surprise, oui? Bonjour, Mademoiselle Plumtartt, I see you have found your wayward beau, too!”

“Indeed, Mademoiselle Gauzot, he does have a tenacious streak in him, I must say.”

“And please to allow me to introduce my friend Madame Pâte à Glacer.”

“Bonjour, Monsieur Temperance and Mademoiselle Plumtartt, how very nice to meet you.”

Madame is a beautiful and dark woman with a French accent, but she is not of France.

“Madame Pâte à Glacer, am I correct in that I hear a Louisiana lilt to your accent?”

“Oh! Oui, Monsieur Temperance, just as I detect an Alabama accent in yourself, no?”