The man trudged away, and Mad Dog returned to his thoughts. What was that line in the distance? It was beginning to look like a column of smoke…
“What I want to know is what Marie was doing talking to him in the first place?”
“Don’t be pinning it on Marie. Elmo’s been a lump ever since that mule kick.”
“Gertrude wouldn’t have kicked him, if Thomas had got Raxx to fix that axle back when it first started going funny…”
“Ai, it ain’t all on me!”
“You’re forgetting about that Wentworth fellow! What was he doing stepping in like that?”
“You should of seen how Elmo was acting this morning.”
“I want to know why Vince here can’t control his guards!”
“I think he’s right about that Wentworth… Elmo’s scared stiff.”
“Serve’s him right for being a lump!
“So? That don’t meant Wentworth’s the one to show him.”
“Maybe no, but your daughter’s out of line!”
“So’s your son!”
“Enough!” Vree slapped the table with the flats of her hands, silencing the Seniors. “You — stop looking at him like that — this ain’t about whose kid did what — this is about the entire town — ai?” The Seniors, some with their eyes downcast, others still looking defiant, nodded reluctantly. “You wanna talk about Elmo or Marie, well, that’s for next month — there ain’t nothing new there. What we’re here to talk about is Wentworth. So any of you got something to say about him — and
The farmers’ expressions downshifted to a kind of bitter sullenness. Vree panned her gaze from one to another… until she met someone who could meet her gaze.
“I’ve said what I got to say, Vree, but none of you want to hear it.”
“Say it again, Vince,” she glanced about the room, “I think everyone’s ready to listen now.”
Vince steepled his hands. Goddamnit, here he was playing diplomat in a town that needed his commerce more than they realized. Their paranoia over a derelict wasn’t just ridiculous, it was dangerous too. The man hadn’t hurt Elmo, and here they were talking about ganging up on him… “Listen, Vree — all of you — out West there are a lot of guys like him — guys that wander into town, got a funny look about them, and sometimes get into trouble. But here’s the thing — when they get left alone, they’re fine. They ain’t really wanting to start the trouble they get in — they just seem to be good at finding it. Now this Wentworth guy ain’t done nothing — sure, he helped out my boys when they were being dumb, but he didn’t hurt Elmo, and it turned out okay. Rankin — wasn’t Elmo helping you load water barrels this morning?”
“Ai…”
“Exactly!” Vince slammed his fist down, “and Wentworth never used that gun he had on him the whole time!”
Some of them shook their heads, others nodded, but no one spoke. Vree looked at him expectantly.
“The man’s dangerous — that’s without a doubt — but he ain’t done nothing, has he? You’d be best off forgetting about all this.” Vince shrugged, waiting for them to respond, to admit the logic of his arguments. But none of them did. “Raxx has almost got that motorcycle of his fixed… right? Let him go. The derelicts sort themselves out, all on their own.”
“Vince—” the Councilman’s face lifted, “You’re a maverick. I know what can be done to help all of us.”
Raxx stared at the midmorning sun with irritation. It was too damned bright, too damned early, and he’d screwed up the coffee this morning. It was weak, and he’d run out of cream. He really ought to be looking at the damned motorcycle.
“Raxx, good morning! How’s the day finding you?”
“Uh, Vree — Councilman — okay, I guess. What’s up?” Now he had to be polite to somebody; it was too early for that. “Something need fixing?”
“You could say that. I’m here because the Town Seniors wanted to see you. There’s a matter they’d like to discuss. If it wouldn’t be any trouble, would you mind coming with me?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess so. You got coffee?”
“Ai, of course, Raxx.”
Someone rapped on his door. Wentworth memorized the page he was reading and glanced up.
“Come in!”
Raxx grasped the knob, and opened the door. Like the rest of the building the room was decorated in a Victorian style — but the bed was worn, and the sheets were frayed, and the drapes were faded. The room suited its occupant — wearing black jeans and a grey t-shirt, his jacket and helmet tossed over the wicker chair beside him, Wentworth’s somber appearance seemed appropriate.
“Hey.” said Raxx.
“What’s up? You got my bike working?”
“No, not yet.” He chewed his lip-ring. “Listen, I’m going for a drive. My truck’s out front and I could use some company. Want to join me?”
Wentworth studied the Mechanic. “Yeah. Yeah, I could go for a drive.” He swung his feet off of the bed and began to pull his boots on. “Anywhere specific you’re thinking about?” He struggled into his jacket and clipped his pistol to his belt. His goggles were on the nightstand. He put them on, covering up the pale circles around his eyes.
“Nah, just around.”
Wentworth slid a magazine into his rifle, slung it over his shoulder, and picked up his helmet. “Let’s go.”
Raxx waited for him to lock the door to his room, and they walked out through the bar. The truck was idling out front. Wentworth tossed his rifle into the backseat, next to Raxx’s shotgun, then the two of them jumped in. Raxx manoeuvred the vehicle onto the highway.
The ride was smooth, but the steering wheel trembled in his hand. “Need to see about that CV joint,” he muttered, but aside from that neither man spoke. They let the silence to stretch out over the engine’s thrum.
Wentworth leaned back, watching the Mechanic drive, and waited for him to speak.
“So what are you thinking about doing when your bike’s fixed? Gonna keep heading west?”
“I don’t know,” replied Wentworth, “See where the road takes me… but I don’t know. Maybe Blackstock wouldn’t be such a bad place to rest the feet for a bit.” Raxx nodded but didn’t say anything. “That big guy — Elmo — came by and shook my hand this morning. Maybe… well, sometimes I can be a bit jumpy.” He paused to let in the scenery. It was so contained, encapsulated in a vehicle cab. He was insulated from the world as it flashed by. “The only thing is; I don’t really know what I’d do with myself. I’m not like you.” He struggled with the statement. “I don’t have any skills to sell to Blackstock… and being a farmhand doesn’t exactly make the spirit rise in me.”
“Yeah, when you’re a farmhand, that’s pretty much it. Hell, even if you’re the farmer you’re married to the land. But wandering’s rough, too.”
“You miss the road, though.”
“I guess… but it’s good to know where your next meal is coming from.”
Wentworth’s eyes narrowed. Next meal..?
Raxx’s tone was casual, but his face was tense. Suspicion rose like a sharp breeze. His pistol was on his left hip, the holster latched. It would take both hands to draw it quickly. Trying not to show it, he relaxed his muscles, and kept his expression blank.
“So what’s really going on? What’s your reason for heading out? This isn’t just a drive.”
Raxx frowned. “You’re right. The town’s Councilman spoke to me today. The Seniors know about you… about your reputation. Listen, Wentworth? I’m sorry. You’re wanted out East, aren’t you?”
He just stared at the Mechanic. So he hadn’t come far enough; two days travel without any settlements, but he hadn’t left it behind. He glanced down at the pistol on Raxx’s belt and noticed that the latch securing it in the holster was undone. Cold anger surged through him.
“…they know about the shit storm that’s following you. They know—” Raxx glanced over into depths of a
