Sixes Wild: Manifest Destiny (20 page)

Oh, hush now. You make a fine lady.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I’m sitting on a squeaky chair with three darn fools fluttering around me: Blake, Doc Richards, and Charlotte Richards. Blake is, of course, upside down.

“I’ve heard of this mine digging up things that make you lose your wits.” The doc touches my forehead, like I’m some kind of infant. “Did you touch the ore itself?”

I glare at the old, smocked fox. “Damn sure I didn’t.”

Blake crosses his wings, dangling from a rafter. “Now, Six, that’s hardly language to use in front of a lady.” Smiling, he nods to Charlotte.

I turn my glare to him instead. Little son of a bitch…

“Oh, I’ve heard it all before.” Her tail swishes as she thumbs through an old medical book. “Been living out here for ten years and serving with the Union army before that. Let the rabbit speak as he pleases.” She glances my way. Her knowing look unsettles me some, but seeing your dead father’ll make a gal worrisome.

Doc brings the lantern closer, studying my eyes, lifting my ears. It’s more than a trifle humiliating. He clears his throat as if the topic’s something delicate. “You’re sure it wasn’t just the strain of being labeled an outlaw?”

“Ah was an outlaw long before that lion ever set eyes on me! I’m tellin’ you, it was those damn rocks!”

“Must be something poisonous to them.” He adjusts his glasses and sighs. “Too bad we don’t have a sample of the stuff.”

“I was a mite busy passin’ out, Doc.”

“I got a few pieces.” Blake reaches into his pocket, revealing a balled-up scrap of cloth. Hanging by one leg, he unrolls it in his paw, showing off a few chunks of that shiny metal rock. “Took care not to touch them, though.”

“Excellent.” Doc Richards takes them all careful-like, holding on by the corners of the cloth. “Frankly, I’m surprised Hayes is mining the stuff, as it’s clearly dangerous. The first person I heard about it from was Harding. He claims it links us to the ‘spirit world’ and too much exposure to it can sap away your soul. ‘Yote nonsense, I’d say, but I can’t deny it had a devastating effect on you, even if it did nothing to Blake.”

Riles me something fierce that this little slip of a bat just shrugged off whatever laid me low. “I didn’t touch any of those good-for-nothin’ hunks a’ stone, same as him. Why was I the one to get hammered witless?”

“Hard to say. Could be your species.”

“That can’t be it.” I fish out my tobacco pouch and rolling papers. “Ah saw at least one other hare down in the mine back the first time. He wasn’t droppin’ like some road apple.”

Doc winces at my uncouth phrasing. “Well, if not species, what other differences are there between you?”

Blake and I look at each other in an instant. I dare him with my eyes, but he just dangles there and says nothing. Bully for him.

As I tap a line of tobacco onto the square of paper, I go through in my mind all the ways Blake and I are different, aside from the obvious. “He’s from the Old States, been a lawman for some-odd years… and he likes to swoop in on a body in the dead a’ night!”

The lawbat sways on the rafter. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Well, you’d best see to avoidin’ it down the road, unless yer fixin’ for me to dust your muzzle.” I shake a fist, but can’t keep the smile out of my voice.

Blake slants one coy ear. “I’ll bear that in mind. But for now we need hard evidence against Hayes.”

My paws finish rolling the Quirley, all deftness and ease, then I lick it sealed. I flick the little box of matches from pocket to paw and light my new cigarette. Two puffs in, I see the Doc glance at me, fox ears raised. “Something on yer mind, Doc?”

“You use the same brand of matches I do.”

I roll the cigarette to one side of my mouth and wink. “Small world, ain’t it?”

“I wish I could be of more help.” Doc sighs, coughing a little as I blow smoke in his face. “You took quite the risk coming back here. You’re sure no one saw you?”

“Oh, folk saw us…” I blow smoke rings, watching as they break against my drooped ear like waves on a rock. “…just not anybody who seemed sober or wakeful enough to matter.”

Coming up from behind, Charlotte puts a paw on her husband’s shoulder. “Even if you could get answers outta Hayes, you couldn’t do it now. He’s out of town.”

“Where?” Blake and I ask at once. I cock an ear at him. He shrugs.

The vixen looks at each of us. “Up in Scoria Grove— he’s hosting some sort of shindig at his holdings there tomorrow evening.”

I get up. Blake comes down.

Doc places himself between us and the door. “Hold up, fellas. Even if Hayes doesn’t see you, two gunslingers can’t just walk into a party. Hayes’ men are bound to know you’re not one of them. And you’re sure not gonna pass for a party guest looking like that.”

The sheriff looks himself over. “I’ll wear a suit.”

I sigh. I ain’t accustomed to finery, but reckon a suit won’t kill me. Better than standing out like a fifth ace.

Doc Richards taps his muzzle in thought. “Still, there has to be a way to attract less attention at the party.”

Charlotte laughs, fluffing her tail in an overly-pleased manner. “Too bad we can’t get these boys some dates.”

We all three look at her.

* * * * *

I hear Blake pacing outside the door. “Come now, Six. It’ll only be for a few hours.”

“Drown in a spittoon, Sheriff.” One paw throttles the clothes Charlotte loaned me while the other clicks the lock.

Blake jiggles the knob from the other side. “Wearing a dress is a trifle next to—”

“Hell if ah’ll be paraded around and made a fool out of just to get into some party. I’ll stay in here ‘til Arizona frosts clear over.

I hear him whispering to the foxes to find the key. That fuzzy bastard!

I fume, my pride boiling over. Only dresses I ever wore I was gussied into by Grandma , all so she could show off her proper little grandchild. The idea of wearing one again, for Hayes of all folk, rakes my coals. “I won’t abide this!”

“Six…” His voice is muffled by the door. “There’s no other way into the place.”

“I’m clear on that, but you seem to be uncomprehending.” Quick as a draw, I undo the lock and swing the door open. This raises a thump. I stick my head out and find Blake knocked back on his rump, ears down. I throw the clothes at him, my ears red with outrage. “I ain’t wearing a dress!”

* * * * *

The dress got put on. We made it to the party. Never thought I’d see the day. His wing on my arm, we make our way through the crowd. Our whispers carry that covert anger that comes with a forced smile.

“I can’t believe I’m wearing this!”

“Oh, hush now. You make a fine lady.”

“I’ll get you for this, Six…”

We slip quietly about the shindig. Must be close to seventy people here. Fills the whole house, which is saying something as Hayes’ house here seems bigger than my Daddy’s farm. Behind it sits the Hayes Munitions Co., big ol’ factory that produces dynamite and gunpowder. Right in the smack dab center of town too, so everybody can fail to compare to it. Worked-bronze lanterns throw light around the inside of his house, setting his fine silver and glassware a-glitter. Damn him and his cold beer… I don’t even like the stuff and I’m jealous.

The dress is dreadful pretty, all lace an’ layers. Blue and white, with a nice fitted waist. Pity Blake resisted so; the lawbat is making a far better lady than I ever would have. By the looks we’re getting, it seems some of the menfolk at the party think so too. We give polite nods to those we pass. I’m just glad Doc found a suit to fit me.

I spy Hayes. His eyes slide over me, slick as oil. He’s too busy having little meetings in the side rooms, accepting cash envelopes from that little marmot of his while everybody pretends they aren’t stuffed with more cash ‘an a miser’s mattress. I don’t stare. We move on.

The crowd thickens around us as we get into the living room. I touch my guns, hid under my fine borrowed coat. The scents of rich foods hang in the air, but are overwhelmed by lots and lots of meat. Cooked meat, raw meat, salted meat: all of it combines to make my stomach slosh like a butter churn. From the looks of things, Blake isn’t doing too fine from it either.

“I’m going to…freshen up.” Never did anybody say those words with as much venom as Sheriff Jordan Blake.

I pat his wing and let go. “Whatever you say, darlin’.”

He doesn’t make it too far. About three paces away from me, he gets accosted by a knot of menfolk coming in from the porch. They leer at him. He looks back at me, but I still have that comment about my profanity to get him back for. Figure he can’t raise a fuss without blowing the whistle on us, so I hang back, grab something from the buffet that didn’t have a mama, and watch a while. Hayes has shipped in ice from who-knows-where. Genuine ice.

The fellas start to get amorous toward Blake. The mutt, who looks to have had a sniff of the oh-be-joyful, paws along Blake’s exposed wings. “You got purdy little wings. Awful delicate.”

He jerks them back, his voice faltering for an instant before he sounds like a proper woman. “I— I’ll thank you to keep your paws off them!”

Another one of the men, a cougar, puts his paw around the bat’s waist. “Awww come now, sugar bat. We don’t mean no harm.”

He blushes, ears dropping. He looks the part down to a stitch. “You’d best let me be.”

“Why?” The drunk mutt looks around. “You here with yer man, sweetwings?”

I finish nibbling on my apple slice, all casual-like.

The lawbat stands there, helpless for the moment.

The men edge closer, the cougar reaching for Blake’s waist again. “Well?”

Blake, surrendering, says with the deepest of blushes: “Yes, I’m here with my man.”

I decide the poor boy has learned his lesson. I amble over, slipping a paw down his back and brushing off the cougar’s grip. “C’mon, sugar bat. You’re lookin’ a touch faint. Let’s find ourselves a lil’ privacy upstairs.” I turn back an’ wink at the menfolk, giving the fruit bat’s rump a squeeze. Just for their benefit, of course.

This stirs up a little hooting, and the boys get shushed by some of the finer guests. A tiger lady cuts us all a sharp look over her paper fan. With a tip of my hat, I lead Blake upstairs. He leans in against my shoulder, looking for all the world like the doting lady on the verge of a faint. Good thing nobody came too close, else they might’ve heard him cursing me under his breath all the way up the stairs.

Once on the top floor, I walk Blake down the hall, smiling all cheery at the few other guests who’ve wandered up here. As an old squirrel passes, Blake stops cussing and darn near melts against my arm. The squirrel and I exchange a tip of the hat, and when we’re out of earshot Blake whispers that the squirrel is a county judge and some kind of big bug or other. This don’t impress me terribly, but it caused Blake to stop cussing me, so I take it as a kindness.

More of those fine lanterns fill the upstairs with a steady glow. While appearing to the most of folk to be surveying the premises, we look for Hayes’ study. Well, Blake does. I am busy palming a few of the more glittery pretties the lion has stacked around: the silver flask of bourbon from the guest room dresser, the ivory-handled knife hung on the wall, and a few odds and ends from his lady’s jewelry boxes.

At this, Blake sees and gives me a sour look. “Put that plunder back, Six. We’re not here to steal.”

“Figure it all evens out, seeing as how he’ll never have to pay out that bounty on my head.” I restore the flask, knife, and spangles to the dresser. “Hell, from that angle I’m saving him money.”

“If you want me to trust you, you can’t be thieving whenever I turn around.”

“Alight.” Once he turns around, I filch that pretty ruby ring again. He can fuss later, while I’m buying him a new lock for his office door.

We come upon Hayes’ study. Rich looking as the rest of the place. Big ol’ wooden desk, wide enough I could probably raise a herd of cattle on. I light a candle on one of the lanterns, and we get to finding. The lawbat looks through Hayes’ files while I set down the candle and poke around. Puttin’ my ears to use on the lion’s safe, I lean against the metal surface, spinning the knob real slow-like. Newfangled combination locks are just about my favorite thing ever: you don’t even need a lockpick to open ‘em. There. Now, lets see what he’s got squirreled away in here…