Chapter 60: Uninvited Guests
Leslie's kitchen was a mess…
Gunpowder sprinkled the floor. A cauldron was tipped over in the corner. The table was full of ingredients that made her house smell like earthy death: bluish-glowing mushrooms, bat bones, hogs blood in jars, horse teeth, muck moss, sand weeds, and rotting meat that had already collected half a dozen flies.
"I can't do it…" She screamed, her hands wet and red with blood that was not her own. She looked down at the Alchemy Tome on the white counter, and swore, "the steps sounded so easy in the book…"
Leslie wasn't quite certain why she was so upset. She'd taken the Rigger Tome without asking, well borrowed Jerocobish's bag that was left on the train, hoping she could create Achellets to help protect Rynan.
A few rounds will give me an edge against those who want to hunt him, she told herself, while she ran down to the local Alchme shop and stocked up on supplies.
Though once she returned home she hardly knew what to do with them. She was no cook after all, and it would've helped, nor was she a proper house wife; those who stay home cooking supper and cleaning after everyone, staying up nights watching little ones, while making her husband happy when he needed it.
"And to think … Jack wanted to start a family and raise kids." She picked up a ladle and threw it across the room, clanking as it hit the wall. "And where is he now ... the coward!"
She sniffed and her eyes burned, a tear wanting to fall. Leslie looked at the table riddled with white and golden rounded vegetables, those that make you tear the moment you cut into them.
"Jack's as heartless as onion …"
She grabbed a rag next to the sink, wiping her hands until the wet was gone, and blood sat dried between the cracks in her palms. She threw the rag aside then plopped down on the ground.
She whispered, "Rynan is being hunted … Jack has sided with the Mayor … Ma Jean is dead and Jerocobish maybe too … and I have no idea of the whereabouts of Boone and Jostice—" His name left her breathless.
Suddenly images of the golden lands, prancing horses, and white, peaceful ranch flashed into her mind; the days before the fire and after her father's passing … the only time she had peace ... When life was simple …
"He loved me then," she whispered, dreaming of the way his fingers slid through her fiery strands, palms caressing her olive skin, and the way he smiled when he smelled the prairie clinging onto her like perfume. I know he loved me then… She lowered her head. "But the ranch fire burned all the love away … and the colosseum has made him cold and bitter."
She felt tears working the inside of her eyes, wanting to melt along her face, and show her weakness. Her home was a safe place to let them fall yet she wouldn't allow it. "There's no more time for tears ... only time for action."
Leslie rose to her feet, "I'm wasting time," she said, looking upon the mess. "What I need is guns and ammunition …" She grabbed her coat off a hook on the wall then placed her brimmed hat over her wavy, red strands. She reached for the door and opened it—
She gasped!
Standing in the doorway was a young man with a sharp nose, pointed cheeks, and long, braided dark hair. There were beads in his hair and a tall, black hat in his hands. His button shirt and trousers were those of the pioneers, but he was an indeginous, that she knew for certain. On his right was another man in a black-hooded cloak, features just as sharp, but hair as gray as smoke. He glared into her eyes.
Leslie pulled her revolver, "Dirty Yurks! Where have you taken him and what did you shoot at my brother—"
"May we come in," the robed man said, in tone as gentle as a river.
Leslie raised an eyebrow. "Why? Are you here to finish the job? Well I can tell you Rynan is no longer here—"
"We are here to help him before it's too late…"
Help him? Leslie corked her head and lowered her gun. "How can you possibly help him?"
The man waved a hand, "may we come inside? This is not a place to discuss such matters…"
Leslie prodded her gun, "I don't trust this one … I swore I saw him during the raid on the train."
"Then E'krek can remain outside and I shall enter alone."
"And who are you?"
The man sighed, "the only one who can save your brother, but time is of the most importance."
Leslie hung in the doorway then waved her barrel, invitingly. Once the older man passed inside she glared at E'krek then slammed the door on his face.
"Have a seat…" She said, placing her revolver back in its holster.
The smell of earthy death even lingered in the room yet the man acted as if he hadn't noticed. He walked slowly towards the couch, back arched and oddly shaped, a long, wooden staff in his hand to carry his weight.
"What a nice home you have," he said, looking upon picture of dancing horses playing in a golden field. "Reminds me of my home …"
"And where is that?" Leslie asked, while the man slowly moved towards the scarlet cushioned couches.
"Gone … As is yours …"
Leslie looked around the room. "My home seems very much in tact."
"Not this home …" He stopped and pointed the staff. "Your home upon the ranch."
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone