"The Sheriff's Showdown" Excerpt: Welcome to Phantom Gulch & Tru and Pru

In the list of everything I ever wanted to do in my life, even just the once, for the sake of "experiential writing research", walk through a desert in the blazing sun alone dressed in nothing but a synthetic jumpsuit did not even show up anywhere at all. And yet, thanks to a quirky typewriter, an impossible challenge, and goodness knows what other substance I may or may not have ingested to bring me here--this is exactly where I found myself in this moment.

The thing that irritated me most was the fact that there didn't seem to be any trees or means of actual shade under the clear blue sky and the blazing sun. My only relief came from the fact that the futuristic jumpsuit from the Phantessan space ship possessed some kind of super-wicking ability, evaporating any moisture on contact, so that even my sweat didn't cause any problems. Of course, I still lost those copious amounts of moisture, so I felt the dehydration settle over me at a much faster rate. The bright sunlight reflecting off the pale sand didn't help the dizzy factor, either. I kept my eyes down, watching my shadow as I shambled over the ground. Gradually, I came to more or less of a flat, packed surface, instead of loose gravel and soil, and the track seemed to follow more of a direction, like a road rather than just open scrubland.

I walked until my legs began to feel heavy, and still, I was the only thing in the desert that moved. To avoid getting caught up in my own misery, I did the unthinkable: I let my mind wander as I walked in this foreign location.

[...]

The path began to incline gradually, cutting off my view of the horizon as I headed up a small rise between the bluffs. A wind whistled through the narrow lane, causing me to shiver--but at least my muscles didn't feel so tired anymore. I came to the top of the hill and stopped to catch my breath and admire the view.
A town spread before me, on the valley floor below. I could see the wooden buildings of many shapes and various heights, and if I squinted really hard I could even make out people and animals moving about between them. I almost laughed aloud with relief at the sight--except that I couldn't shake the feeling I was being watched somehow, among those craggy cliffs. 
"Time to find out what this story will be like," I murmured, taking long strides down the hill toward the town. 

[...]

It was so noisy already, I hadn't noticed the extra level of frenzy, but as [I took in the bustling town around me], I felt a shadow fall over me, heard the words "Look out!" and I stood up just as the fence less than ten yards away from me shattered in front of a runaway wagon headed right for me!

I cringed and threw my arms over my head, crouching down and praying that the horses went around me--but instead of hooves, I felt two arms lift me straight up and sweep me off to the side, as the wagon went thundering out into the middle of the road as people and crates screamed at the narrow escape and dove out of its way. The wagon plowed straight out of town without stopping or overturning.
"Are you all right?" asked a voice just over my head. The arms pulled back and gentle, strong hands supported me as I looked into the honest face of the man who had saved my life.

I gasped, feeling a keen sense of deja vu as I could have been looking into the face of Commander Gerald of Phantessa! 

"Y-yes," I stammered, my body quivering as the rush of adrenaline subsided. "I'm fine, thank you."
The man stepped back, pushing the brim of his Stetson back to mop the sweat from his forehead with a kerchief. "It's my pleasure--and, I guess you could say, my job to ensure the safety of any who enter this town." He dusted off the sleeve of his plaid shirt and pointed to the silver badge clipped to his pocket. "I'm the Sheriff, you see. The name's Jerry Coldwell. Who might you be, stranger?" His eyes wrinkled as he talked, but his face was not unkind.
I managed a smile. "My name is Laura," I said.
He nodded and shook my hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Laura."

[...]

The sheriff led me further into the town. We turned down a road that I could see would lead us to a cluster of small houses. I tried to smile and nod pleasantly at everyone we passed, but only got frowns, gapes, and calculating squints in response.

Two ladies, wearing ample hoop skirts and billowing blouses, stood at the front of a square white building, waving and greeting passersby. When they saw us, the smiles disappeared, and they dared to approach us. 

"Oh, Sheriff Coldwell!" said the lady on the right. "How are you feeling today?"

"Oh, not too bad, Prudence," Jerry responded jovially. "And yourself?"

The women gave me pointed looks.

"Trudy," Prudence leaned over and gave a loud whisper. "I do believe the Sheriff is under some kind of terrible threat of duress. I greatly fear for his safety and his sanity."

"Aye, sister," Trudy murmured back. "Either that or the poor man must be going blind, for surely no one with his authority and stature would dare to--"

Jerry whirled around so fast that I nearly collided with him. "All right!" he barked at the nosy ladies. "Let's have it out, ladies. What seems to be the problem?"

Trudy and Prudence stared at him with wide, owlish eyes--which they subtly shifted in my direction.

Jerry snorted. "Her? This is your problem?" He placed a hand on my shoulder. I noticed his grip wasn't rough or heavy. "This is why you question my competence? Because of a girl?"

The owl eyes blinked. 

"Oh!" said Prudence.

"It's a girl, is it?" said Trudy.

Jerry wagged his head. "Of course she is! What else could she be?"

He meant it as a rhetorical question, but from the deep pink flush on both faces in front of me, I guessed that I probably wouldn't like the answer they had to that question.

I was right.

"Well, to be sure," Prudence stammered, "if I would have seen this... girl... walking down the street, I might have mistaken her for a rather unkempt man, with the strange trousers she wears."

"Or an escaped convict," Trudy added quickly.

Jerry threw back his head and roared with laughter. "You worried that I'd somehow gotten friendly with a convict?"

They returned to blinking owl eyes. 

Jerry finished laughing and mopped his face with the bandana. "Oh, that is wonderful," he sighed. "Tell me, ladies--if this girl is an escaped convict... How far away is the nearest prison?"

"There's the State Penitentiary just outside of Junction," Trudy volunteered. 

I had a sneaking suspicion that these would be exactly the type of ladies to keep themselves and others appraised of such matters.

"Junction is well-nigh fifty miles away," Jerry stated, "and there are other towns much closer to it, in pretty much any other direction except toward Phantom Gulch--so why, if she escaped the prison at Junction, would she bother walking fifty miles into the middle of nowhere, just to be here in Phantom Gulch?"

In perfect unison, the sisters' mouths dropped open. They gaped like fish for several silent moments, then turned about-face and flounced back into town to harry some other unsuspecting individual.

Jerry nodded to me and pointed to the road. "Best keep moving, Laura."

I grinned as we walked. "Wow," I said. "I'm impressed at the way you handled those two fussbudgets."

Jerry chuckled. "That's just Tru and Pru, our resident spinsters who make it their business to air their approval and disapproval of everyone else's business. If you ever wanted a source that knew everything about everybody, that would be Tru and Pru." He glanced over and gave me a wink. "Which is why I'm glad you're here."

Glad? "Why are you glad, exactly?"

"We don't get a lot of newcomers around here. The community in Phantom Gulch is pretty tight. News travels fast, and my wife and I have spent the last couple years learning the ins and outs of everybody who lives here. You? You're something no one has seen before, one those two nosy biddies can't figure out--and I got to you first, so I'll know more about you than they ever hope to!" He kept walking in long, easy strides, even whistling a little as he went, but I felt my stomach knotting up inside me.

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A Writer's Tale Featured Excerpts:

Book 1--The Dragon's Quest: "START HERE" ---- "The Hunt Before Nightfall" ---- "An Underwater Rescue" ---- "A Dragon and His Name" ---- "Loose the Gryphon"

Book 2--The Commander's Courage: "An Aliian Encounter" ---- "Two Truths And A Lie" ---- "The Grand Tour" ---- "Technical Difficulties" ---- "At Your Service" ---- "Mystery Meat(less)" ---- "Lockdown"

Serial Saturday: "The Last Inkweaver" Part 9

Part 9

"Dreams and Disruptions"

Terra's cough sounded very near my desk. I blinked and recoiled into myself. How long had I been staring? I caught a pair of ice-blue eyes full of mischief as Matthias turned back around to face his desk. My entire face flushed and tingled. Not only had I been vacantly staring the whole time, but at him, no less!

I watched Terra very deliberately trot back to her desk, pick up a wadded piece of vellum, and begin scrubbing the ink on her dress. There were no other crumpled blotters--we were always taught to gently fold the paper so as not to smudge the text. I knew exactly whose paper it was, and by the time she was done, every side had been smudged with her ink--even if someone were to smooth it out, it would be nearly impossible to know what had been written on there just a short while ago.

I felt my racing heart subside just a little, and I must have pressed a little heavier on my quill than I intended, because the snap of the delicate tip broke the silence. I stared in horror at the bright bead of ink still hanging off the end of the broken feather, recovering just in time to move the pen away from my work and onto a blotting surface, where it dropped and splattered. I set down the broken quill and looked at my copy work.

...Classes at the Fi

No! I felt my chest tighten all the way up to my throat. I had no other quills, that was the last one of the  stock my mother bought at the beginning of Verdant, intending to last me until classes ended at the Waning of Renewal. The Factory Warehouse that supplied our stores had stopped distributing quills due to a bad season, and she had told me early on that I should reserve the quills for Calligraphy class only, and switch to pencils for the rest of my classes, to make them last longer. I had done what she asked, and yet here I was, my last quill snapped, and only a few lines away from what might be the most important copying task of my whole education. What did I do? Dare I raise my hand and ask Master Colton for a replacement? Borrow from a desk neighbor?

Someone cleared their throat, and an inlaid wood pen with a metal nib appeared on my desk. I picked it up, feeling the weight and how it balanced in my hand. When I lifted my head, Matthias stood at the front of the class, turning in his finished copy work. I tried to catch his eye and acknowledge the gesture, but he made it all the way back to his seat without so much as a glance in my direction. 

I returned to filling out my copy of the royal Proclamation, noting the ease with which the fine nib coursed through each flourish.

"As you have guessed," Master Colton announced as I finished and fell into line to turn in my copy, "this proclamation directly applies to you, and these copies you have made will be posted around Mirrorvale, so that your families and friends throughout the whole community will know the honor that is due for the best and brightest of this Academy."

[...]

I laid my proclamation copy next to the original. Mr. Colton glanced from the one to the other and offered me a smile. "Another flawless reproduction, Miss Callista. You have a knack for measuring quill strokes and mimicking font styles. Well done!"

I nodded my thanks and headed back to my seat. The post-midday bell tolled, and Master Colton waved his hand. 

"Class dismissed!" he declared.

I grabbed the wood pen and tried to weave my way through the crowd of exiting students, over to the young man who lent it to me.

"Matthias, wait!" I called.

He stopped and waited for me out in the hallway, where the press was moderately thinner.

I offered him the pen back. "Thank you for letting me borrow this. I wasn't sure what I was going to do to finish the class work in time!"

Matthias shrugged and glanced at a group of his friends just walking by us. "Eh, I was done using it anyway. Tell you what," he kept his hands in his trouser pockets and rocked back on his heels. "You keep it. I have another one at home I can bring with me next Calligraphy class. My father stocks them in his wagon."

A thrill coursed through me a second time. "Are you serious?" An actual pen of my own? Steady on, Callista, don't be getting ideas! "Thank you!"

"You're welcome," Matthias nodded at last. "See you tomorrow, Callista."

The familiar rustle of poplin caught my ear, and Terra passed by behind us, deep in conversation with her friends Letitia and Margery. The memory of how she had saved me potential embarrassment in the classroom returned, and I knew some thanks were in order, at least in private.

I smiled at Matthias. "See you tomorrow." We parted ways.

I followed a respectable distance behind Terra, working over what I was going to say while I waited for Letty and Margie to finish talking with her. It wasn't entirely a violation of my parents' wishes--it would certainly be a violation of etiquette if I simply walked off as if nothing had happened!

Avoid Terra... My thoughts reminded me. Just till all this... investigation... Someone reported them for possession of banned items... Yellow dress...

On second thought, maybe speaking to her wouldn't be such a good idea after all. We had a close enough bond that she would understand how much I appreciated her quick thinking, without my having to say anything, wouldn't she? After all, what if someone saw us talking and decided to take offense at it?

[...]

"Hey Callie, wait!" Before I reached the corner, Terra followed close behind me. I slowed so we could match stride, but at least I kept walking.

“So," sighed the redhead with a massive dark ribbon of ink running down her dress, "are you going to say anything?"

I sighed. "Thank you for taking that sheet of vellum and crumpling it up. It was foolish of me. I don't know what I was thinking."

"No, you dreamy-head!" Terra giggled. "I mean, you're welcome and all, but... I meant about that," she pointed to my hand, the one still clutching the pen that was now mine to keep.

I rolled my eyes and kept my expression neutral. "No, Terra."

"Come on!" Terra shook her skirts impetuously. "What made him give you such a nice pen if there wasn't at least a part of him that fancied you a little?"

Do not give in. "It's not like that! He lent it to me because my quill broke. I am going to give it back as soon as I don't need it anymore."

"Uh-huh," Terra smirked. "And are you expecting me to believe it didn't make you... feel anything?"

Zounds, she was a bad influence on me! "Stop it, Terra! You know we shouldn't be speculating right now. It's indecent--"

"What's indecent is the way you talk all high and mighty around me and around other people, but you act all nervous and giddy the moment you two are in the same room--I've seen it!" She began tugging at her collar worse than ever. I pushed her hands down for her.

"Stop touching your face--you'll mar your skin," I hissed at her. Whenever Terra got into one of her moods to tease me about Matthias, it felt like being back in Level 7, drilling arguments in Rhetoric all over again!

Terra crossed her arms and tapped her foot. "Stop trying to change the subject, and tell me the truth, Callista! Give me one good reason why you won't divulge your obvious interest in Matthias--and no more spouting the fear of speculating and all those social expectations others have placed on us."

Yellow dress, yellow dress... Wordspinners rejected... Inkweaver... Secret... Terra knows... What is The Truth?

I blurted the first thing that came to mind. "Matthias deserves someone who isn't such a scatterbrain. You of all people know what I'm like. Half the time I don't know my own mind, much less why it persists in detaching from reality at the most inopportune moments!"

My friend wasn't about to back down from her point. "A scatterbrain who just spent two whole class periods yesterday on a research assignment, reading boring, dusty history texts!" The intensity of her expression morphed into mirth, and she laughed as she reached out to grab my arm. "I swear! You two are so adamant about behaving the way everyone expects you to, that you refuse to see how well you'd suit each other--"

"Terra, please..." I resorted to begging now. I pulled away from her as we exited the front gates of the Academy. "You need to stop fixating on this idea you have of there being anything beyond friendship between Matthias and me--that's all it is, an idea, and I don't think it's doing either of us any good to keep harping on it."

Terra's demeanor dimmed. She nodded with a sober expression. "You're right, Callista... I'm sorry."

We continued around the Square in silence. Halfway to the bakery, Terra couldn't resist remarking aloud, "It probably doesn't matter anyway... He very likely has no idea you're so taken with him."

Oh, meddlesome girl! "I'm not taken with him!" I retorted. "I've taken measures to keep my feelings in check so that I can remain rational. Besides, it's not as if Matthias is the only boy I've ever noticed before!"

We bought warm cheese buns from the bakery and headed back for post-midday classes. 

Terra at least waited till we were outside to challenge me. "And tell me, Callie--how many other boys' patronyms have you tried on during Calligraphy class?"

I snorted. "Tried on? He's a person, Terra, not a dress!"

Yellow dress... clear memory... Memories are truth... find the truth!

I seized the opportunity to change the subject. "That reminds me--speaking of trying things on, did you own a yellow dress when we were little?"

Terra stopped so abruptly that she nearly dropped her bun in the sloppy mud puddle in front of her. "That's a strange segue--don't think I don't realize what you're doing!" she groused.

I took another bite of the warm, gooey, savory bun and swallowed. "Did you?" 

She wasn't looking in my direction anymore. "Maybe... Dresses come in all sorts of colors, I never really paid attention to which ones I wore, back when my mother picked out my clothes. Why do you ask?"

I pursed my lips and tried not to let my babbling subconscious overwhelm me. "I had a memory resurface recently and I wanted to verify if it was a true experience or not. Did anything happen to that yellow dress while we were playing? I seem to recall that you tore it once, didn't you?"

I adjusted my stance to get a better look at my friend's face. I could see her jaw muscles flexing, and her eyes flickered back and forth as her fingers again compulsively fidgeted with the laces of her bodice. "Maybe I did." Her words came out terse. "What of it? I've torn and messed up lots of dresses with the way I used to play." She pointed to the ink-stain adorning her dress that would no doubt be permanent after today. "Have you met me?" She quipped, and giggled at her own sarcastic joke, but there was no missing that nervous tremble in her voice.

Letty and Margery scurried past.

"Terra, hurry!" Margie called. "Class is about to start, and you'll be late!"

Terra gave a startled twitch. "I have to go. See you later, Callista!" And then she was gone.

I made my way to the Music instruction hall, baffled by the change in Terra's behavior as soon as I mentioned the yellow dress. What had gotten into her?

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