Sixes Wild: Manifest Destiny (19 page)

We’re inside. The mineshaft hangs dark around me. It’s well dug. Nothing like what a self-respecting hare would homestead in, but braced enough that it didn’t collapse when Hayes blew the rest of the mine. I notice a scrap of old wire behind the doorframe. “Blake, look.”

“A wire? What’s it for?”

“What do ya think?” I trace a finger up to the ceiling, following the wire to two large boxes fastened there, hid behind a support beam.

His ears lift at this. “TNT?”

“Yep. That’s lion’s a curly one. Probably fixing to blow this half of the mine too, if things go sideways.”

Slicing the wire with a steady claw, he tucks it around a rafter and studies the boxes with golden eyes. “Let’s keep moving…softly.”

We leave the door open, but that only lets light in so far. I didn’t have the time or the wits to get my lantern and other gear from the sheriff’s office when I departed. Before long, I start having to walk with my paw on the wall to keep from bumping into things. Blake steps up from behind me and, without a word, lifts my paw to his shoulder all gentle-like. My ears drop, but I don’t yammer about it, just follow him. If I listen, I can just make out the edge of his eeps and echomahwhatsits. Trusting echoes is one thing, but sound? That’s just reckless.

I can feel the muscles of his neck moving under his fur as he looks around. “These walls have smaller passages running through them. Old ones, by the look of them. From what Harding told me, natives dug this place out long before Hayes ever got his paws on it.”

“That’s mighty interesting, batty, but hush. Sound carries right well down here and ah ain’t keen on having the same manner of difficulty we had last time.”

“Fair enough.”

We continue in silence. The shaft continues a long ways. Must be halfway through the mountain by now. We pass lots of passages, bigger ones, some even with light in the distance. This here’s the mine proper. Never thought I’d believe a bat about a hole in the ground, but the sheriff was right.

Voices. I hear somebody ahead. My paw squeezes Blake’s shoulder and I pull him toward me. I put my muzzle to his soft, perked ear and whisper. “Reckon we’re not alone.”

He nods. The voices get louder, closer. I pull him toward the wall and feel along until I find one of those little passages he was talking about. I have to push him toward it before he gets the idea. He climbs inside. I hear footsteps now. My heart’s thumping fast. I shove Blake the rest of the way in then scramble my bunny body inside. It’s a tight fit. Whatever ‘yote dug this no doubt found it agreeable, but getting a hare and bat into it necessitates some close quarters.

Footsteps get closer. There’s talking, grumbling. At least two or three of them. They walk right past our hole. I listen, both ears up and still, as they pass.

“This place’s more ‘an a mite unsettling, if ya ask me.”

“Cork it, Lyle. I got a headache.”

“See? I reckon all this shiny rock’s turning our brains to soup.”

“That supposes yours wasn’t that way from the get go. Now shut it ‘fore I shut it for you.”

The footsteps fade.

Once I dare to breathe again, I realize that I’m clutching Blake something fierce. I ease off a bit. He gives a soft little sigh, like I was really crushing him. I stay like that, arms around him, perhaps for a moment longer than is necessary. Just to be sure those fellas are well and truly gone, is all.

I slip out, offering my paw. The sheriff takes it with his wing thumb, letting me pull him to his feet. He doesn’t make any wise comments about what we just had to do, so I don’t see the need to do him some quiet injury.

We get down further into the mine, passing carts full of some kind of ore. It shines, reflecting my eyes back at me no matter how it’s broken, like a thousand tiny diamonds. What could Hayes be digging up down here? I haven’t seen a trace of gold in this place either time I’ve been in here. Just these carts of metal ore, shining away…

I start to hear voices again. At least, I think I do. I freeze, ears swiveling. I hear Blake and I breathing, water dripping somewhere in the distance…

There it is again. My breathing picks up. Where is it coming from? I hear whispers.

Something about the whispers sound familiar.

I try to shrug it off, but shrugging seems beyond my power just now. I slump against a wall, just looking to catch my breath. I really have no business being this tired. Those whispers get louder, sucking the strength right out of me. All of a sudden, I’m falling. Dreadful slow too, like in a dream. I feel something velvety catch me, then hear Blake in the far distance: “Whoa there, Six. You alright?”

I try to answer, but those whispers are just at the edge of deafening now. I can’t even hear myself speak. The voices are quickly becoming a clamor, then a roar. I drop my ears, like I’m standing too close to a train whistle. Thing is, Blake’s are perked right up as if the mine’s dead quiet. His lips are moving, but all I can hear are the voices.

My heart thunders. My ears droop further still. I don’t want to hear it anymore. I close my eyes…

I open them to find, not the mine, but a tilled, bare field. It stretches on and on without end, sunlight shining just as cheery as you please, warming my fur. In front of me, a figure is crouched down, inspecting the soil. Dirt runs through his lifted paws like water. I watch him for a moment, drifting closer like a cloud. He’s wearing worn-in britches and wide-brimmed hat I know well.

He stands and smiles at me, like he knew I was there all the time. He slides off the hat, letting his ears rise. He’s tall, tall as me. He’s got the same stormy blue eyes I see in every mirror.

All careful-like, he touches my arm. “Hello, Clarabelle.”

I gasp for breath. I feel like I should be confused, shocked, but, my mind is a clear as a cloudless sky and my heart is cool as a wellspring. Like a gust in the desert, all the rules ‘a this game just come to me. Everything makes sense here. I know where this is. Home. I know who he is. “Daddy…”

“Well, after a fashion, yes.” His smile widens, showing a glimpse of those buck teeth. He wraps those strong paws around, holding me close.

I can smell him, feel him; he’s real, of course. Why wouldn’t he be? I breathe in his scent for a moment, feeling the texture of his shirt against my nose. My heart beats slow, and I feel safer than I have in years. Nothing can hurt me here.

“Hey there, Cottonpuff.” He brushes a paw over my head fur, chuckling all soft. “I rest my eyes a moment and you’ve gone an’ sprung up like a weed.”

I giggle and hug him tighter. “I missed you.”

“Aww, well, that’s mighty nice to hear. I missed you too. Don’t get a terrible excess of anything through those guns.”

My paws slip down to caress the grips of them. Of course he can feel the world through them.

He steps back and puts a paw on my shoulder. He’s one of the few folks tall enough to look me in the eye. “You causin’ a ruckus back in the world a’ the living?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“That’s mah girl.” He squeezes my shoulder, smiling all peaceable. Everything’s peaceable here. “Ya always were a bushel more ‘an a pawful. Don’t worry on it none. That’s just the nature a’ some. Now tell me of life and the world.”

“I ran it all afoul.”

“The whole a’ the world? My, you have been keepin’ busy.”

I shake my head, words coming calm and easy as I explain. “Got myself in a tangle with a lion called Hayes— who I understand may sound familiar to ya? What’s more, everyone thinks I’m you.”

“That’s hogwash, Clarabelle. Any fool can see ya got your mother’s ears.” Just smiling, he brushes my cheek with his strong paw. I always remember them being so much bigger than mine, but I now see they’re mirror reflections of mine.

“Some old bun from the mine started it.” And, for once, I feel like minding the rules. “Hayes put a price on your head. Well, mine.”

“Don’t believe anybody’ll be collectin’ that one.”

“How’d the bunny know?”

“His name is Bennet.”

I lift an ear and look at him askew. “Who’s he?”

Daddy pats my arm, his eyes gentle. “My brother who went astray. Tried to steer him right and ran afoul a’ Hayes and got myself shot. Never did manage to blow up the mine like the ‘yotes or that bloodhound wanted me to…” His paw slides to the flank he took a bullet in and a frown slips across his muzzle, until he sees my gunbelt. “James gave ya my guns, I see. How is the ol’ badger?”

“He’s dead.” Never woulda been able to say that so calm outside of this place. “Got shot when some rustlers took an interest in his herd. I killed them.”

“Oh. I see.” His ears droop, for the first time seeming a touch sad. After a spell, he clears his throat just like he always did to keep things rolling on, even manages a chuckle. “Yer mother keen on you dressin’ like a man and laying out lead?”

I laugh, even if it’s half-hearted, wiping a mist from my eyes. “She don’t know.”

“Ah. Ya always were a contrary coney.” His paw fluffs my ears. “I ever tell you how I came by those guns?”

I shake my head.

“Now, that is a tale…” His ears go up. The land around us starts to burn off like fog in the sun.

I try holding on to him, but it’s like grabbing at smoke. Must have gotten a mite frantic, because I’m clutching at him like a madbunny, but he just slips through my paws.

“Easy there, Cottonpuff.” He eases back. “You’re just leavin’, is all.”

“Leavin’?”

He nods, touching my shoulder one last time. “You’ll always be my pretty girl.” The fur under his eyes darkens with moisture. All the rest of him washes away into the background. “And see that sheriff fella treats my pretty girl right! And tell him I was much obliged to his uncle, once upon a time.” I hug him close. He slips away. I stumble after him. The ground crumbles out from under me, leaving only blackness. I fall.

* * * * *

A velvet wing catches me. The light’s changed, evening now. I’m sitting in a saddle. Blake’s chocolate mare is swaying under me. The sheriff himself is behind me.

“Whoa, Six!” He chuckles, still holding me up. “I’d take it as a kindness if you’d not go diving out of the saddle like that.”

I shake my groggy head, watching my ears sway. “Why aren’t we in the mine?”

“You keeled over. Had to carry you out. That was hours ago. We’re almost back in town.”

“Back in town?” I straighten up, sharpening like steel. My paw clenches his thigh. “You forget who you’ve been printin’ wanted posters of?”

“I was aiming to hide you in a grain sack and bring you down to Doc’s to see about you not dying.” His voice is a touch pained. He works a wing thumb under my paw, prying it a little ways off his thigh before he bruises. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

I cuss and shake his wings off me. Bad enough that Hayes is out to kill me without his damn shiny rocks making me as useless as a bat in a cyclone. Well, maybe a bat would have some use then, but still. Feeling vulnerable like that puts fire in my ears. The sheriff rides on, guiding the pony with his legs. I want to lash out against him, but that ain’t fair, so I hang fire, biting my tongue. I can feel his chest rising and falling against my back and that settles me some.

We camp out and eat our food cold. Last thing I need is someone seeing a fire from town and getting curious. Once night falls, we slip back into White Rock.

The guns whisper outright now, babbling to me in a tongue I’ve never heard. Not sure if that’s a lasting thing.