//------------------------------// // Gunsmoke // Story: Journey // by Penalt //------------------------------//     The last slivers of the moon’s waning crescent looked down on the quiet and tranquil farm.  All was at peace as beasts and humans alike slept beneath the star filled sky. Only a few fluffy clouds moved across the skyscape, pushed along by gentle winds high aloft.  Things were not however, as peaceful as they looked.     A dark coloured vehicle that looked like a small pickup truck moved with eerie silence along the gravel road among the farm buildings.  The soft crunch of the small rounded stones beneath its tires was the only sound that could be heard as the truck approached the horse barn. The vehicle came to a stop and two men got out taking obvious care to move in silence.  Two more men joined them from the horse trailer that had been towed along behind the electric vehicle.     One man of the quartet appeared to be in charge, if his exaggerated hand motions were any indication.  Several times though, he had to repeat his motions before his companions seemed to understand his intentions.  Frustrated, he made an almost universal gesture for his fellows to follow him to the barn. As he walked along, one of the other three made a different, equally universal gesture toward their leader’s back.     The unlocked door to the horse barn yielded to the attentions of the intruders with ease, and a minute later all four were inside the barn and shutting the door behind them. Their leader flicked on a low powered flashlight and examined the interior walls until he spotted a series of switches.  He flicked the first one, biting back a curse as nearly all the lights in the barn began to come on. Moving with speed, he flicked the first switch back off, and after a few more attempts he found the switch that lit only the lights that went down the barn’s central corridor.     “What the hell do you think you’re playing at Bob?” asked one of the men in a harsh whisper.     “Shut up Keith,” the leader said back, his voice just as low and harsh.  “I don’t even know why you came along on this.”     “Because you needed a fourth person on this. As well as someone who could write up and file a false pedigree asap,” Keith replied, not backing down.  “Figured if I’m in this deep, I may as well go all the way.”     “Fine, fine,” Bob Halstad said, his features ghoul-like under the few lights.  “Steve, you got those injectors ready?”     “Yup,” said a short man with a short bush of ill-kept dark hair.  “Where’s this wonder horse that’s going to make us all millions?”     Luna was sleeping.  Not only sleeping but dreaming as well, trying to reach out and touch the realm of dreams once more with her ingrained disciplines as the Princess of the Night. While she had not been able to actually dreamwalk, she had been able to touch the dream realm and sense the sleeping and dreaming forms of Mrs. Norris, two nearby farmhands, and the majority of the nearby cattle.   It still came as something of a shock to her that so few species on this world possessed any level of real intelligence. Perhaps if she reached out just a bit harder, and used a bit more focus she could contact Mrs. Norris’ dreams.     Luna touched the magic inside of her with her will, and began to use it to try to contact the older mare’s dreams.  Only to feel a small spike of pain from her physical body and everything went fuzzy on her with sudden, dizzying speed. Her thoughts began to come at a slow and languid pace, and she felt the connection with her magic disappear under that same soft, fuzz as she began to feel the sensation of movement from her physical body.       It felt like the work of a hundred earth ponies to open her eyelids and lift her head but Luna managed it, forcing herself to look around at her surroundings.  Almost immediately she felt someone grab onto her bridle and use it to hold her head still. Luna brought her eyes into focus and saw that she was being held by a strange man who was clipping a lead to her bridle.       “She’s awake,” a voice she recognized hissed in anger.  “I thought you said this stuff would knock her out.” Luna tried to remember where she had heard that voice before.  It was familiar, very familiar, but she just couldn’t seem to make her mind work hard enough to bring the memory to the fore.     “The term is ‘conscious sedation’ for a reason, you moron,” said the man holding the lead, to the human whose identity Luna couldn't remember.  “If I put her completely under we’d have to haul her to the trailer ourselves. I told you that. C’mon girl.” The man began to pull on Luna’s bridle and to her slow horror she felt her body take an automatic couple of steps forward.     Stop!  No, not another step.  Why won’t you stop? Stupid body, Luna cried out in her thoughts, as the lead pulled her forward another few paces. 'Sed-ation' means drugs.  Great whickering stallions, I’ve been drugged!     “Easy girl,” Keith said, as the dark mare he was guiding forward staggered to one side, pressing him up against a wooden interior wall.     “This is taking forever,” Halstad said, impatience overriding his previous caution with the volume of his voice.  “Get her moving.”     “We have to take this slow,” Keith said, levering Luna into halting motion again.  “An animal in this state is moving more on instinct than anything else. They’re more asleep than awake.  We go fast, the mare could stumble and break a leg. You want to break a leg on this 'Hundred Million Dollar Horse,' as you call her?”     “Fine,” Halstad grumbled, as the horse took another slow step forward.     Please stop, Luna begged, in the vault of her mind as she kept moving forward.  I’ve been drugged. I can’t stop myself, I’ve been drugged. Luna’s despair became total as they neared the door.  She knew that once her captors had her through that door she was good as gone from the place that had given her care and comfort.  Two steps before they reached the door, it opened.     “Señor Robert,” Jorge said, a pitchfork in one hand.  “What are you doing here? And with La Curandera’s horse?” “Jorge, thank God,” Halstad said, breathing out in relief.  “You scared me half to death. Give us a hand here and I’ll make it worth your while.” “That is not your horse, Señor Robert,” Jorge said, switching the pitchfork from a carry position to one where he could use it as a weapon quickly.  “You should not be here, this is not your farm.” “You stupid… I’m stealing the damn horse,” Halstad said, rolling his eyes at how dense the migrant worker was.  “Help me get her to my trailer and I’ll pay you a thousand dollars, cash.” “You want to bribe me?” Jorge asked, his eyebrows climbing.  “After you fired me? After you threw me and my family out because of an accident?” “It was a mistake, and I’m big enough to admit when I’ve made a mistake,” Halstad said, nodding.  “Come back with us, Jorge. I’ll rehire you at double what you were getting paid before and I promise you’ll have a job for life.  I’ll even put it in writing.”         Keith, the former veterinary assistant, began to start backing up, letting slack the lead line on the horse.  He could see that things were starting to fall apart with this caper. It had seemed like easy money and a bit of a thrill ride, when his old sponsor had given him a call with a chance to pay back his student debts from veterinary college. He shot a look over at Steve on the horse’s other side, and flicked his eyes toward the barn’s rear entrance.  Steve caught the motion and nodded his head a tiny fraction to show he was in agreement.     “No, Señor Robert,” Jorge said, jaw clenching and his grip tightening on the pitchfork.  “Doña Norris is my employer now. She took us in, and I will not betray her trust. Not for any amount of money.  Now, put the horse back.”     “I wish you hadn’t said that,” Halstad said, drawing out a large calibre pistol and aiming it at the farmhand.  “I don’t want to shoot you, but I will if you don’t get out of my way.”     “You shoot and everyone will hear,” Jorge said, face paling but holding his ground.       “Are you really willing to die for someone you’ve only worked a couple of days for?” Halstad asked, raising the pistol to draw a bead on the farmhand’s head.  “I can shoot you and be gone before anyone gets out here to see what’s going on.” Jorge gulped, and began to shift his weight for a sudden surge forward.  If he could get under Halstad’s aim he would be able to use the pitchfork and cripple or even kill his former boss.  Even if he was shot, he was close enough that his momentum should carry him into Halstad. His foot began to leave the ground... “Everyone drop your weapons, or I swear the next person who moves will have a hole in them big enough for me to ride through,” Edith Norris said, stepping out of the pre-dawn gloom, her voice freezing everyone in place.  She was dressed in an old, faded emerald, dressing gown, and wearing a pair of slip on shoes on her feet. What really caught everyone’s attention though, was the barrel of an ancient rifle she had trained on the drama before her. “Now Edith—” Halstad began to say, just before all hell broke loose. “Screw this,” Steve said, bolting for the back door of the barn.  Keith and his helper dropped Luna’s lead lines and were right on his heels.  Edith Norris was many things, but a trained shooter she was not and the sudden movement drew her eye and her body turned to follow, pulling the ancient Sharps 50 rifle away from Bob Halstad and toward the runners. Halstad saw a chance to salvage his attempt to steal Luna and shifted the aim of his pistol toward Norris.  Jorge, already poised to act, leaped forward and grabbed Halstad’s gun hand just as he squeezed off his shot.  The bullet tore a burning zephyr through the skirt of Norris’ dressing gown, but she was otherwise unhurt. Startled by the shot and taken by surprise, Norris brought her gun back to bear on the struggling duo.  Jorge had dropped his pitchfork in order to grab Halstad and now the two surged back and forth, with Norris moving from side to side trying to find an angle where she wouldn’t hit Jorge or Luna with a shot.  The other three men ran unopposed out the barn’s rear door and into the night. Robert Halstad was a fit man, and he had six inches along with a good fifty pounds on his opponent.  Jorge was short and lean, but it was all whipcord muscle honed by a lifetime of hard work and for nearly half a minute the two seemed to be evenly matched despite their disparate sizes. Then the older, smaller man pushed hard, sending Halstad back into Luna.  Still heavily drugged and barely conscious, Luna staggered back from the impact far more than she should have.  Halstad, who had been still holding onto Jorge all the while, rebounded off of Luna and used the combined momentum to send the migrant worker sprawling on the ground near his feet.  Halstad brought his pistol to bear, murderous fury in his eyes at the scum who had dared lay hands on him. “Time to die, you poor ass mother—” the deafening report of the ancient rifle cut Halstad off in mid-sentence.  His gun tumbled from suddenly nerveless fingers and he looked down in shocked surprise at the widening stain on his shirt front.  His gaze went from the old buffalo gun had torn a hole in his chest, and up to Edith Norris, who calmly levered another fifty calibre bullet into position. “Time for you to find out if you can buy your way out of hell,” Norris said, as Robert Halstad, the richest man in five counties, sank to the ground, breathing out his last while his lifeblood watered the ground around him. Jorge got up slowly, staring at the dead man in disbelief, and his voice shook a bit as he spoke.  “Why, Doña Norris? He knew you were there. Why did he try to shoot me?” “Man always was obsessed with money, and the power that came with it,” Norris said, feeling the beginning of the shakes now that the crisis was over.  “He never really thought that anyone else was really real, that everyone and everything around him was just a piece in a game he was playing. Maybe, he thought I wouldn’t shoot.  I don't know. We’ll never know for sure.” “What about the men who were with him?” Jorge asked, moving around the body and moving to check on Luna, who had sunk down to her knees.  “They will get away.” “Nope,” Norris said, making sure the safety was on the old rifle before she set it down. “Five years ago we had some problems with a bunch of teenage yahoos.  So, I had alarms and low light security cameras installed. The alarms are what woke me up, and the cameras will have plenty of pictures of Bob’s accomplices. Anyway, you check on Luna while I go call the sheriff and the vet.”     An hour later things around the farm were in a state of ordered chaos.  The farmhands, most of whom had been awoken by the thunder of the old buffalo gun, had come down to find a scene of death and carnage, with their employer sipping from an Irish coffee that was much more “Irish” than coffee.  Norris put them to work making sure the dairy herd was okay and getting an early start to their day. The sheriff had been suspicious when first told of the sequence of events that had led to Halstad’s death, even with an obviously drugged horse still lying in the barn’s passageway. A quick replay of the footage from the security cameras put his doubts at rest, and he soon had his deputies out scouring the countryside for Halstad’s accomplices.  On foot, with the morning beginning to lighten the sky, they were easy to spot by deputies who knew the countryside well. All three were brought back in cuffs, where they had to confront an absolutely furious young woman. “WHAT DID YOU GIVE HER?” Chiara roared in furious anger as she surged up to the three prisoners.  “I WILL END YOU IF YOU DON’T TELL ME!” Almost everyone looked in bemusement at the young woman who was naked beneath her hooded cloak. An amusement that dissipated in an instant, as Chiara whipped her athame out from beneath her cloak and held it to one of the men’s throat’s, as she drove him back against the barn. “Drop the knife, Ma’am!” ordered the sheriff, drawing his weapon.  His deputies following suit a heartbeat later. “Not until he tells me what he gave Luna!” Chiara yelled, her fury as bright as the gleam on her sacrificial blade. “I know you’re upset Miss,” the sheriff said, trying to de-escalate the situation.  “But all you’re doing is making things worse. Besides, it’s just a horse.” “JUST A HORSE!” Chiara screamed incredulously, her eyes fairly crackling with rage, and the deputies took an involuntary step back from the avatar of fury in front of them.  “SHE IS NOT 'JUST A HORSE.' SHE IS MY—” “Chiara, what is the Rede?” Norris asked, gently touching the enraged woman on the shoulder.  “What is that you told me is the first thing a pagan is supposed to follow?” “Do no harm,” Chiara quoted automatically, though she kept her blade in its place.  “But they hurt her. They hurt my Luna.” Tears leaked from the corner of Chiara’s eyes, and Norris wasn’t sure if they were tears of rage or sorrow. “And what would your goddess say about you using your sacred knife to spill blood?”  Norris asked, in that same quiet voice. “No matter how deserved it was?” “That it would be wrong,” Chiara said, in a much smaller voice as she let her arm fall and the knife clattered to the ground.  “I—I’m sorry.” “It’s okay, dear,” Norris said, folding Chiara into her arms, and the young woman's rage turned to guilt and fear as her charged emotions released in a series of racking sobs, and she allowed herself to be drawn away from the men and toward Luna's unconscious body. “Fellows,” said the sheriff in a cold, hard voice to the three shocked men his deputies had arrested.  “Either you tell us right now what you dun shot up that horse with, or I’m going to hand you over to those fine women and walk away.  Your choice.” “Ketamine,” the shortest of the men gasped out.  “We gave her two doses of ketamine. She should be fine in a couple of hours.” “You had best pray to your dear fluffy lord that is exactly what happens,” the sheriff said, motioning one of his men to go pass the information along, “because if anything bad happens to that horse, I might just have to leave you here for a couple of hours while I go bring the coroner up.” “I’m sorry,” Chiara said, sitting on the floor of the barn with tears still coming from her eyes as she stroked Luna’s neck.  “I didn’t mean to… I was just so angry.” “It’s natural to be angry when someone you love gets hurt,” Norris said, her arm still wrapped around Chiara.  “You can’t help your feelings, but you can help what you do about them.” “I could have killed that man,” Chiara said, her tears slowing to a stop as she took stock of herself.  “I was going to kill him, but you stopped me.” “Bah, I didn’t stop you,” Norris said, her mouth quirking a bit.  “All I did was remind you of what you are. You’re the one who did all the stopping.” “Ketamine, ladies,” said a young deputy, stepping up and tipping his broad hat to them.  “The fellow says it was ketamine and that your horse should be fine in a couple of hours.” “Thank you,” Chiara said, looking up at the deputy, her face still blotchy from her tears.  “Sorry to have caused a fuss.” “Heard about your ride, Ma’am,” the deputy said, nodding in approval.  “That’s a special horse you have there. She’s got herself a pretty special rider, too.  Not surprised you two would go all the way for each other.” The deputy tipped his hat once more to both women and went back to assist the sheriff. “So where do we go from here?” Chiara asked, checking the strong pulse in Luna’s throat yet again. “We do what women have always done after something like this,” Norris said, smiling as Chiara leaned back into her.  “We clean up, we carry on, and get ready as best we can for whatever storm is on the horizon.”