Sixes Wild: Manifest Destiny (18 page)

My ears flick up. “The mine.”

“Exactly. It all fit once Harding came to summon me for the posse and told me folk were holed up in the old mine.” He repacks and tries to relight his pipe, but the twig burns too fast, singing the fur of his fingertips. He yips, startled.

I ignore the smell of burnt hair. “What’d prompt folks to live inside an old mine? From my brief stay there, I can testify to it not being a pleasant place.”

“Doubly so for those of us who aren’t bats.” The vixen lit her glass lantern at the hearth.

I itch my chin with a wing thumb. “Must be quite something to keep them there.”

“Stands to reason.” Doc sighs like a man who’s looked over the same problem a dozen times. “I’ve heard rumors too, unsubstantiated mind you, that there never was any gold, that the rock they were pulling out had ill effect on some. I’m no geologist, but I wish I could have gotten my paws on a sample of the stuff, see what the properties are.” The fox puffs his pipe. “Even heard Julius Hayes ran that mine like a cult, with the miners as followers. Styled himself a prophet or even a god.”

“Quite the sensational rumors.”

“Most rumors are.”

We talk for a while more, but a combination of wine and weariness makes my bed an appealing place, even without a certain outlaw sharing it.

I stand under the stars for a long moment. My hind paw finds its way to the gun cleaning kit I bought today, tracing over the pattern in the leather. I can feel unease tug at my wings like the wind— seems some of Six’s restlessness rubbed off on me. I can only hope she doesn’t have an unending supply or she’ll be a hundred miles off by now. Figures this’d be the case just as I find myself in need of an escort. Never an easy thing to find a bunny like her.

Luckily, I have a bloodhound. I just hope that means I find her first.

How about a plan where we don’t die?

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Either I was a southpaw, or my father was. Carrying his echo so long means I can no longer tell which, and now I’ve gone and forgot. Dang.

I lift my paws closer to my little campfire. Don’t dare build it up much higher or the gully I’m camped in won’t hide the thing. Cool desert air seeps into my fur and seems to go straight through me. I’m feeling awful low and lonesome.

I’m sitting on my bedroll, right between nothing and nowhere. My paws rummage my pack until I find my old harmonica. Pretty little thing. Lifted it just last year off a shopkeep who’d hiked his prices higher ‘an a tabby’s skirt. I play a soft, warbly tune James taught me. I miss him still, after all this time. Why’d I have to leave his pin behind? Why couldn’t I have left anything else?

Because nothing else woulda been worth the travel back, ‘cept my iron perhaps, but damned if I’m gonna walk the world one step unheeled. My folks didn’t raise me up a fool—

A soft rustle. My ears perk.

From nowhere, a voice: “Howdy, bunny.”

I jolt to my feet.

A black form explodes into being beside me, scattering dust everywhere.

My body tenses, wanting to freeze, but hard practice puts a pistol in my paw instead. First shot goes wild. I’ve got the second centered on his head when I recognize that dainty little muzzle. I hang fire. “Blake!”

“Blazes, Six!” He cringes, then straightens up. The lawbat checks his body for new holes, then fires me a glare. “You fixing to not shoot at me one of these days?!”

“Reckon it’ll be right near the day ya quit droppin’ outta nowhere like a nightmare!” I holster, ears trembling from the bang and the start. “’Sides, ain’t like I hit ya.”

His little fruit bat teeth bare. “I’m supposed to bet on you missing me?”

I smile. Mighty good bet. A tongue like his’d make anybody miss him. “Hell’re you doin’ here?”

“I’ve been fixing to speak with you and Harding had a hunch which direction to fly. He’s full of surprises, that old dog.”

My guns give a little shiver.

Blake doesn’t seem to notice. He smiles. “Not so hard as you might think to find a campfire from the air.”

“Suppose not. What’re ya doin’ after me? Don’t you have sheriffing to get to?”

He crosses his wings. Looks funny, but he’s stone serious. “Yeah, and wait for some darn fool to beef me for a pat on the head from Tanner Hayes? Thank you, ma’am, but—”

I give him a look.

His ears drop. “Oh, there’s nobody to hear for miles.”

“That’s just what I’d thought.” The gun I fired at him feels heavy.

He shrugs. “Bats fly pretty quietly. Got a fair look around on my way in, too.”

“Have a sit-down.” I wave at the paw beside me. “You come to get your pony back?”

He glances to the mare with her lead tied to a rock behind me. Old girl had scarcely even woken up after the gunshot.

“By and by.” Wrapping his wings around himself, he crouches down beside me. “You alright?”

“Oh, ah am grand!” I turn to him. “Got a price on my head and a crazy lion after me!” I lean in close, but he doesn’t back off. “Oh, and they think I am mah dead father, so that’s all glory and wonder too!”

Those brown eyes of his go wider in the firelight. Got little flecks of gold to their coffee-brown depths. Never noticed that before.

I find I’ve come real close to him. His breath traces off my muzzle. I kiss him. He jerks at first, but then settles down into it. It’s real nice.

When the kiss ends, he smiles at me. We kiss again. His wings wrap around me, warm and velvety. A few more kisses and he tips me back onto the bedroll I’d laid out. His paws and wings slip around me and mine around him.

All of a sudden, the night’s not so cold.

* * * * *

I awake in the softest blankets I’ve ever felt anywhere. I nuzzle in deeper, hiding my eyes from the morning sun. The instinct to burrow isn’t lost on bunnies, ‘specially when we find ourselves half buried in a moment full ‘a warm and cuddly. Breaths come easy and deep, and, as I find more and more of Blake’s scent, it dawns on me that I’ve got a flying fox as my blanket. I don’t find this situation objectionable, though the good sheriff looks a bit pained. I realize my guns are digging into his body again, so I shift around just a trifle. He sighs, relaxing around me. From the set of his ears and the even keel of his breath, I figure he’s still dreaming his batty dreams.

At some point during the night, he got us under the blankets. I don’t recall when. Most of what I do recall involves warm velvet wings wrapping me in my dreams. Hope we didn’t frighten his pony too much. My legs have been sticking out of the bedroll all night, so I kick out of my boots and pull my feet inside. I’m taller than him, so I’ve got to curl up a little ways to let him warm me, but that ain’t all bad. You won’t catch me rambling on about it, but having a boy hold ya is far from the worst thing in the world.

After a spell, he stirs, shifting his shoulders and sliding his wings over me. I can’t get over the way it ruffles my fur.

His eyes open just a little ways. He smiles. “Morning, Six.”

I feel my ears run pink, and I tuck ‘em behind my head. “Mornin’, Sheriff.”

He brushes a wing thumb over my shoulder. “Here we are again.”

“Seems so.” I nuzzle under his chin. “Best you not grow accustomed to this manner a’ closeness. Ah’ve never been the tamest a’ folk.”

“That being the case, we had better get to Hayes before you feel the itch to run again.”

I fix him in a stare, showing him I ain’t playing. “I don’t leave business undone, Sheriff.”

“Who’m I to disagree with a lady?” He winks. “You figure we ought to have any sort of plan before we do this?”

I snuggle in tight. “Shootin’ him’s a plan.”

“How about a plan where we don’t die?”

I give a deep sigh. “Lion’s got more silk to his mouth than a queen’s wardrobe and you wanna talk him outta killin’ us?”

“No, we need to find evidence of what he’s been up to.”

I stroke the inside of his wing. Warmer blanket than any bedroll. “Won’t be easy gettin’ back into that mine, especially with Hayes blowing the entrance up and all.”

“Ah, my fine lady, but there is one thing we’re overlooking.”

“Oh?”

“While Hayes may be low-down, stupid he’s not. From the air, I saw one or two holes that seemed suited to the purpose of swift withdrawal. I landed to investigate one before they found me.”

I lift my ears, then I shimmy up to look him in the eyes. “You reckon he’s got a bolt-hole.”

“Makes sense. If I ran unsavory activities down in a mine, I’d want a second way out.”

“I like you better savory.” I give him a lick atop the muzzle.

He closes his eyes and smiles. “So all we need do is find this second entrance, assuming the blast didn’t destroy it too, and we can see what the heck Hayes is up to.”

“So you want to go crawlin’ back into that cave an’ just have a look-see?”

“Yes.”

“And you expect a lady to come with you?”

“The kind of lady who spits in public and would just as soon knock a man’s teeth out as look at him.” He reaches into his pocket and presses something glimmering into my paw.

James’s pin.

Warm and heavy in my palm, I curl my fingers over it and hold it to my heart, since that feels right. I rest my forehead against Blake’s, holding him close for a spell. That feels right too.

When I can open my eyes without danger of tears, I fix the pin back on my vest, which I then button up. “W-well, I’d be the March Hare to argue with that sort of thinkin’. I’m in.”

He laughs just a little. His chest rises and falls against mine as we lie curled up, avoiding the chill of the world outside the blankets.

After enjoying his warmth for just a little while longer, we get up, get dressed. I pack my plunder. We’ve got a lion to catch.

* * * * *

He rides behind me as we cover the miles. I work the reins, since my paws are more suited to it. His wings suit my hips just fine, though I’d never admit it. The desert is wide and flat, but the heat’s more merciful as it’s the morning still. The bay pony, whose name I learn is Pumpernickel, trots evenly onward.

Thick as he is, he listens to me about not flying up there again. Perhaps there’s hope for the boy yet. And he gave me an ace-high little kit for cleaning my guns. Keeping with his usual mushiness, he stamped “libertas” in flowery letters into the leather case, though at least he had the sense to do it on the back. He claims it means “freedom.” Reckon I might keep him around for the time being, just to see if he keeps progressing.

I stow the kit in the saddlebags, and we leave the pony at the foot of the mountain, traveling up the sides in slow sweeps. Once or twice, I darn near unload on some poor varmint for startling me. Recent events have got me hopping four feet at every scrape of gravel. Blake jumps the first time; by the third, he’s just grinning.

After a few hours searching, we find the entrance. It’s hid behind at an angle from the way most reasonable folk would climb this mountain. Then again, I am hard pressed to find a reason reasonable folk would be here at all. Oh well.

The door isn’t very weathered yet, and its padlock shines in the morning sun, having only a thin layer of dust and grime. The lion’s put the hinges on the outside of the door, so I could just knock the pins out and get inside. I figure it’s safer not to go ruining his door, though, and so I pull the lockpick from my boot. Blake scarcely has time for a disapproving grumble before I get it open.