This is the opening few chapters of my book WildWood Ranger. It is about 70% finished.
A cold breeze sliced down the side of the mountain like an icy blade. Three men huddled closer around the campfire, drinking in the radiant heat.
They were a rough looking lot. Cowboys weren't known for their fine clothing or fancy ways. These men had been out for a while, so whatever airs they might put on for the women in town were completely hidden beneath the dirt, sweat, and resolve it took to ride herd in the Colorado outback.
Except for the crackle of the fire and the soft rattle of the wind in the pines, there was no sound. Their nerves were already on edge, and the smothering silence pressed in on the men from all sides.
In the distance was a mournful howl. “You hear that?” Ask Tom, the youngest. “Now tell me again that you think that's a 'yote!”
One thin and haggard looking cowboy tilted his hat back, and answered “Calm down boy. It is what it is. Far away from us.”
“Easy for you to say Ike.” replied young Tom, “You are about to get married and start staying at the ranch. Whatever that is will likely haunt me all summer. Even iffin it don't, I still hain't gonna rest at all tonight.”
The line boss, Robert, finally spoke “Then that means you can take the watch all night, and we can both turn in. If you change your mind, get one of us up.”
Chuckling at their cleverness, the two older men rolled out their bedding and climbed in. As things in the camp settled down, there was another howl, this time noticably closer.
As Tom sat with his back to the fire, staring out into the black night, a voice pierced the void. “Hey Camp! Can I come in and share your fire?”
Like a flash, all three men were on their feet, weapons drawn, scanning the darkness.
Ole Robert took the lead “Come close enough to be seen and keep your hands in front and empty.”
On silent feet, a tall slim man slowly walked in from the East. In the flickering firelight, they could see a western hat, a duster cloak, and boots. But as to the man's features, there were too many shadows, and the light just seemed to draw away from the man's face. As he stood there, the light glanced across something metal on the man's back. It might have been a slamblaster, or a heat-rod, but it seemed too thin to be a conventional weapon.
The boss spoke, “Friend, you can come in a little closer, but move slow and deliberate till we see what manner of man you are. What's your name?”
“Reid! I am a WildWoods Ranger.” The man slowly came a little closer. A flare of light finally revealed Reid's face to be that of a person who had seen adventure. Hard cut features, leathery skin, and a small scar above his left eye all spoke of a life of risks and hard times. This is a man who would never be considered “handsome” or pretty, but he had the look of a person who could walk into a hurricane and come back unscathed.
Robert continued to be the only one of the group who spoke, though now the other two had started scanning the darkness watching for more intruders, and paying a little less direct attention to Reid. “A gov'ment Ranger you might be, but you ain't on no federal reserve right now. You're on a private ranch, and I wasn't told to expect no ranger.” said the man.
Instead of answering right away, Reid simply stood there staring at the three men. As the silence stretched into the night, it became clear that he didn't intend to explain himself any further.
“I mean, we didn't even know there was a ranger in the area.” continued Robert. “And, don't you guys mostly bust trail and stuff? Whatchu you a doing away out here?”
Again there was a long pause, but finally Reid answered “Trackin. Somethin been killin down in the valley, and Oscar asked me to find it. It left his ranch and came up here.”
Tom blurted “I bet it was that thing we heard howling!” “Hush boy.” Said the line boss. “Well, I shoulda figured Ole Oscar to go running to the gov'ment at the first sign of trouble. You got gear Ranger?”
“Gear and a little coffee.” came the answer.
“Coffee!” Robert's voice suddenly held more warmth and cheer. “Well, I guess you might be alright. Come on in to the warmth.” At this the men parted to allow the fourth man entry to their circle around the glowing campfire.
The ranger did bring his gear in, unrolled his blanket, and offered a small sack of coffee to Robert. As the coffee pot bubbled and the scent filled the air, Rob decided to dig a little deeper into this business of a killer animal on his boss's ranch. “Ranger, what exactly are you tracking?”
The only answer from the bedroll was a soft snore. “Huh. He didn't even wait for a cup of his own coffee,” he observed.
The next morning, Ike was the first of his group to stir, and as he sat up, he saw the ranger quietly rolling up his bedroll. “Tom? You still awake?”
The ranger quietly answered for him “He nodded off about two hours ago. I heard his breathing change, and figured I could finish the night watch for you since you shared your fire with me.”
“Thanks ranger. You gonna need any help with that..... what did you say you were trackin again?” Ike asked as he leaned down to stir the fire to life.
“Don't know yet.” Reid answered in a soft voice.
“Don't know what it is? Or don't know if you need help?” Ike queried. Getting no answer, Ike turned back to the ranger, but only saw a glimpse of his hat and the metal thing on his back as he disappeared in to the brush. Reid was walking briskly away.
“That is one odd feller.” Ike mused.
“I'll say”, answered Rob. “He didn't even drink his own coffee, and he left the rest behind.”
“He probably just forgot it.” Ike offered.
“No, Ike, I figure a feller like that don't forget much.” Observed Robert. “I doubt he even drinks coffee. Get that kid up and let's get on with our work.”
A few hours and several miles later, Reid slowed to survey the ridgeline he was on. His thoughts were simple and focussed “It has to be somewhere on this side of the pass. With the winds last night, they wouldn't have even heard it if it had dropped over to the west side.”
Reid pulled out his canteen and took a long slow drink. “Now. Where would my beastie live?” As he stood there Reid was drinking in the shape of the land, the feel of the wind channeling up the draw, and the mark of the flow of water down the slope.
From his pack, he took out a small leather journal marked “Beasts” on the cover. The worn pages had a small fine print, and a few occasional sketches. The ranger flipped through till he found a page headed: Lox. “Hmmm. Seems to fit, but it shouldn't be this far west. That is odd.” He mused.
As he considered his notes, Reid returned to surveying the land. “There. Near water, but close enough to the pass to cross over if things got bad.” The ranger observed, “If I was hole up near here, I would be right down there in that little chimney. Bet I find a cave.”
He began to climb down the slope, placing each boot deliberately and slowly.
At the bottom of the little draw was a small cluster of pine. They barely hid a cave opening, about 20 feet away was a small creek.
The ranger circled the slope, working his way around till he was directly over the cave opening. Then he took out a small pair of brass binoculars, similar to the kind fancy ladies held up during the opera.
Reid muttered under his breath “Alright, no natural tracks, but somethins been coming in and out. And I know that smell. Oil, grease, steam. This is another rouge mechanical. I wish it HAD been a Lox,” Reid paused then darkly laughed to himself, “or a bear. Or a mountain lion.”
Deep in the cave, a low throaty growl began to rumble. “Okay, you know I'm here” the ranger whispered in reply. From his back harness, he slowly drew out a katana. The blade seemed to shine with a light golden glow of it's own. “I wonder how long that will last.” Reid asked no one in particular.
In a strong voice, the ranger called out “Here, kitty kitty kitty!” And dropped off the ledge, landing in a forward stance. He stood facing the cave, sword held in high ready position. A small cloud of dust swirled around his feet. Reid held still, waiting. He looked like a statue, even seeming not to breath.
Suddenly the cave mouth exploded as a huge, metal, wolverine looking beast came bounding towards the ranger. There was an immediate crash, like a steamcar slamming into a brick wall.
After the first impact, in the swirling dust, the sound of steel on steel rang out three times. The air was split with a deadly howl full of rage, hate, and pain. And then a series of thumps sounded as several heavy items fell to the ground.
When the dust cleared, the ranger stood bleeding from his forehead, sword tip down in low position. At his feet lay four pieces of broken machinery. Together, they would have resembled a giant wolverine or Lox after all.
After waiting to see if anything else came out of the cave, Reid knelt down to the closest piece of the monster. Sheathing his sword, he took out his small dagger, and began to pry off part after part. When the chunk he was kneeling on had been sufficiently torn apart, Reid moved to the next closest one. The second pile went to pieces like the first, and the ranger showed no sign of stopping. Finally, as he was tearing in to the third piece of debri, Reid stopped and picked up a small broach shaped like a dragonfly.
The ranger sighed alloud “I knew it. I wonder whose machine this was before he took it over.”
Reid looked up, then held his hand towards the weaking sun. “Need to get my gear, and set up for the night.”
Suddenly the ranger froze. Slowly his left hand slid up to his right hip. In one quick move, Reid drew his dagger, spun and threw it. Like a streak of quicksilver it flew and burried to the hilt in a small tree, inches above the head of the young teenage boy creeping up.
“That was a lot closer this time.” Said the kid.
“One day I won't miss.” replied the ranger.
“You never miss.” quipped the boy.
“I thought I gave you the slip down in town.” Back and forth, the ranger and the boy fell into a familiar banter.
“You did.” replied the younger man, “I had to back up and start from scratch, had to ask about ranchers with predator troubles.”
“I should have just left and let you come up here alone maybe.”
“Not till you learn me how to fight, ranger. Then I will chase monsters too.”
“Boy. I don't teach. Now if your staying, then get camp together. I'm hungry.”
Far away, in an office building in Washington D.C., a telephone is ringing and ringing. Sitting behind a desk is a man in a fancy three piece suit, reading a report with laser focus. Finally, he lays it down, and notices for the first time the telephone still buzzing away. “Bureau of Wildlands and Woods, Pritchart speaking.”
“No sir, I am reading the most recent report now.”
“Sorry sir. I know sir.”
“I will offer an opinion after I finish reading it sir.”
“No sir. I trust his judgement sir.”
“Well, sir, you KNOW what happened with the President.”
“Yes sir. I have told you before. I was there. It happened exactly like the report said.”
“Yes, I will let you know when he updates me. I will let him know you still want to send in your man.”
“Thank you sir. Good day.”
As he put the telephone back in it's cradle, Pinchot placed his face in both hands.
“Reid. Please figure this out soon.”
Right then, the telephone began to ring again. “Bureau of Wildlands and Woods, Pritchart speaking”
“Reid! I was just defending you to the Paulson again, he is insiting on sending in one of his Teslas. What have you found out?”
“Really? Another mechanical? I guess we have to invite them in. Yes, if it were normal monsters I would leave it to you. But this is different. They are the ones with the authority to make an arrest. We still don't have that kind of power.”
“I will let them know. Maybe you could meet their man somewhere. Fort Collins? Okay. Make your way there.”
Pritchart dials the telephone. “Mark? Gilbert. He just called. You were right. Have you any commission agents near Fort Collins? Can you still keep our man in the loop? Alright. Have your guy meet him there. I don't know, but he won't be hard to find.”
It was dry and windy in Fort Collins when the dirigible arrived. The locals all stopped and stared as it came in. “Ahoy the ground! A voice echo'd.”
The local sheriff answered “Ahoy yerself! You ain't landing that here!”
A rope dropped down, and the voice called out again “Not landing! Dropping off! Hold the rope!” Stunned the sheriff held tight the line with both hands. A very feminine form flipped over the rail and slid down the rope. Landing lightly on her feet, the young lady arranged her clothing, smartly replacing her bustle and corset, and knocked dust off of the hem of her high necked dress. “Oh, thank you good sir! And where might I find the local constable?” Without letting go of the rope the sheriff looked at the pretty young girl, then pointedly looked down at his own chest where a badge was pinned.
As recognition hit, so did the baggage, burying the sheriff under several large trunks, bags, and chests.
“Oh, My goodness, constable, I am so sorry!” The girl stooped to lift the pile of bags off of the befuddled lawman. As laughter rolled out on the street, the embarrased Sheriff looked up, and said “Ma'am, please stop helping me, and tell me who the hell you are!”
“Tiffany Potts, sir. You should have been expecting me.”
“Ma'am, the only person I am expecting is a federal agent named Potts......” Without finishing his thought the sheriff froze. He looked at the girl in her refined dress, high corsett, and parasol, high white boots with glistening leather spats, and suddenly started laughing. Roaring with laughter, wiping tears from his eyes, the bedraggled officer climbed slowly to his feet, literally choking on his mirth.
“Sir! What exactly has you so amused?” she asked.
“I am just thinking about a meeting.” he answered, “Two people will be sitting in a room with absolutely nothing to say to each other, and I want to be there to see it!”
With surprizing agility, the lawman stood, and started off at a fast walk down the main street. “Come along ma'am. I well send someone for the bags!”
With no other options Special agent Potts followed in his wake. About ten minutes of brisk walking later, the sheriff stopped in front of the Hotel Alexandria. “Ma'am, you should go up to room three and announce yourself. And on second thought, I do NOT want to go with you.”
Turning briskly on his heel, the High Sheriff of Fort Collins made haste to what he considered a safe distance.
Ms. Potts stood in the sun for a few minutes before closing her parasol, and strutting inside as if she owned the entire building. The desk clerk greeted her immediately and asked if he could get her a room. Without responding, she continued to the stairs and charged up towards the rooms above, eyes rivetted on one particular door with the number 3 emblazoned on it.
Ms. Potts raised her fist to knock on the door when a youthful voice inside said “Come-in!” Unruffled, she opened the door and stepped in. There sat the ranger at a table by the window, a dusty unlabelled bottle in front of him and two glasses. A small Oscillo-fan was blowing in the corner of the room. A young man stood up from the foot of the bed. He nodded at the refined young lady, “Ma'am.”
“Go.” rumbled from Reids chest. Without hesitation, the kid jumped up and ran out the door. “'scuze me ma'am! bye Ma'am! I will see to your room and bags ma'am!” His words echo'd down the hallway as the boy ran.
“Sit!” Reid barked.
Ms. Potts decided to face this head on “Now see here! I do NOT cower like your young manservant. You will speak to me like a......”
“SIT!” Roared Reid. With a squeak, the special agent of the Tesla Rouge Experimentation Commission decided that she would be the more mature person and make an attempt to compromise by following the order immediately.
She fairly well flew to the chair and sat down.
“A DIRIGIBLE??? WHY NOT ORDER A MARCHING BAND??!?
!?”
“I was told to get here as quickly as possible! So I commondeered that ship! No one told me to enter with stealth. Now, if you are the wildwoods ranger, then I have read your basic reports. Someone is adding devices to normal automatons, causing them to malfunction. If you have nothing further to show me, you may go.”
“I.... may... go.”
“Yes, I have it from here, unless you want to give me any more information that wasn't in your reports, then I think it best if you leave it to me.”
Reid stood and slowly walked towards the door, where he paused with his back to the room. “Ma'am. I do believe I should give you a quick orientation as to the nature of the.... what did you call it? Malfunction? Afterwards, then, yes, I will certainly leave it to you.” Reid slipped his hand into the pocket of his cloak hanging on the back of the door. He then turned to the fan, and tossed a small metal dragonfly towards it. With a metallic clank, the tiny piece stuck to the side of the fan. Reid stepped out the door and shut it behind him.
From inside the room there was a roar and a scream, followed immediately by the sound of crashing furniture. Within seconds there was a loud impact of air that actually bowed the door, and then silence. Reid opened the door back up to see Ms. Potts in complete disarray, her hair draped across her eyes, her cumberbund was out of her dress and on the ground, but in her hand was a small sonic-tong, still steaming vapor from recent use. And embedded in the far wall was the remains of the fan, now shaped like a metallic vulture with fangs and claws.
She lay there for a moment, her eyes wide like fancy china plates. Then she attempted to salvage her dignity and continue. “Ahem... Well. Thank you for bringing me up to speed. So.... I wonder if you might like to stay around for a few days to ummm assist me with local geography?”
Reid just looked at her. He quietly thought, at least she can take a little heat. But rather than admit that to her, he replied “If you like, ma'am. You can take this room.”
Ms. Potts looked around at the trashed room, and then back to the ranger, and said “Gee. Thanks.”
