Dystopia Pt 06

Chapter 22

Emil came to slowly, the throbbing in his skull forcing him to the surface as it grew in intensity. He tried to open his eyes, but the light stabbed his retina's and he groaned. Voices surrounded him, but the words were indistinct and muffled. He tried to turn his head towards the voice to catch a glimpse of the speaker, but his head swam and he immediately vomited all over himself.

Hands helped turn him on his side and patted his back as he emptied this morning's grits onto a floor covered in straw. He tried to force himself to focus, tried to hear anything coherent. Tried to do anything other than groan in pain. Nothing would work. Opening his eyes he saw shapes and blinding lights, and he vomited again from the disorientation. Blackness descended once more.

When he came to a second time, his head was throbbing even more. His eyes felt heavy as he opened them, and the light was blinding, but he was able to make out several people standing above him. The first face was a painted lady. Her makeup was thick, but not garish. Her brown hair had been pinned up on top of her head, and her lips were a dark red that complimented her brown eyes. The second person was Faile.

"Wha..." he groaned.

"You got knocked on the head, sweetie. Bashed you right good too," the lady said.

"He mugged you and stole your truck. I'm so sorry Emil," Faile said.

He looked around trying to understand what they were talking about. He was lying on a sofa in what could only be the lounge of the brothel, judging by the dark paints and heavy red accented fabrics. Several tables nearby had people milling around with drinks in hand, most of them watching him.

"Last thing I remember, I was coming back from Wayne's. Someone hit me. That's it," he said with a groan. His words didn't want to chain together for some reason. It was like trying to herd his goats, they were slipping off his tongue and he had to wrestle them back in line. "Did anyone catch the guy?"

"No, and we don't even know who it was. All we know is that some of the patrons here heard you shout, and when they came out the man was already running off. They checked on you, and tried to follow him, but he jumped in your truck and took off."

Faile met his gaze with compassion and sorrow. "Perrin was coming back from the Pony and saw the man leave. He didn't recognize him, but Emil... he recognized your dad's coat."

Emil blinked at her. That didn't make any sense. "My dad's coat? That doesn't make any sense. Markem was wearing it. Where is he? Is he ok? Did he get robbed too? That must be how they got the coat and knew how to start the truck. Where is he?"

Faile met his gaze and shook her head slowly. "I'm sorry Emil. Perrin is asking around now, but no one knows the man, and we don't know where this Markem fellow is. If he's hurt..."

The door to the establishment slammed open as the mountain of a blacksmith stomped in. His face was a picture of rage, and his hands curled into fists. When he saw Emil awake he sighed in relief and his shoulders relaxed.

"Young Jackson, I'm glad you're alive. I've seen a few injuries in my day and I was worried that he cracked something in your brain."

"Did you find anything?" Faile asked pointedly.

Perrin looked at his wife and shook his head sadly. "No one knows the man. The barmaid said he was asking around for work a few days ago, but never gave his name and no one has seen him since." He turned to look at Emil, and his face fell. "He took your truck, and Kim saw him driving south. It's a day's journey to Dallas by wagon, but in your truck he can make it there in a few hours. I've sent Tanner senior off to go speak to the sheriff there, but it will probably be too little, too late. I'm so sorry."

Emil was reeling. A man asking around for work? His dad's jacket? Knew how to start the truck? He checked his pockets. "My coin is gone. All of it. I brought all of my savings to buy supplies. A little less than twenty gold. Gone. All of it is gone."

Faile glared at him. "Don't you dare start that little pity party of yours." She leaned down and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You're alive, and for a while we weren't sure you would be. Be thankful for that. It may be a lean winter, but you still have the ranch and your herd. You can rebuild. It will take a while and it may not be pleasant, but you can fix this. Get your head on straight and we'll get you back home. Now, do you know who hit you?"

"It must have been Markem. I hired him a few days back to work as a ranch hand over the winter. He's from down south somewhere, and was hard on his luck. Seemed like a decent fellow." Emil got quiet as he remembered, "I gave him my dads jacket to wear. His was too thin and ragged. It must have been him... but why?"

Faile eyes hardened, but she shrugged. "Some men need no other reason than the glint of gold. Be thankful he didn't cave your skull in."

Emil started to nod, but the pain was unbearable and made his vision swim. Faile turned to the painted lady and handed her a few coins.

"Here. Take care of him, give him a bath and wash his clothes. I'll be back to check on him soon."

"Of course Faile," she said with a beaming smile.

"I'll pay you back," Emil started.

"Nonsense. You said it yourself, 'next time I need a favor.' Well, consider this the next time. Besides, I'd have to be pretty heartless to leave a man in this condition."

He considered her words carefully, but the thoughts were heavy and kept running away. "Fair enough," he said slumping back into the pillow. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. It's not a favor, it's just me paying you back. Consider us even." Faile turned to her husband. "Get him upstairs. He's in no shape to walk."

Emil started to protest, but Perrin ignored him and scooped him up in a princess carry. He didn't even seem to notice Emil's weight, and moved carefully through the room and up the stairs trying not to jostle him overmuch. The madam led them to a room at the end of the hall, and unlocked the door with a small key she carried around her neck. It was a small room, but clean. There was no furnishings beyond the bed, a dresser, and a bathing tub along the wall.

Perrin laid him down on the bed gently, but Emil still ground his teeth in agony. Once he was settled, Perrin turned and stared at the woman.

She quickly nodded to him, "We'll take good care of him Sir. Get him cleaned up right proper and make sure he gets lots of rest and some nice soup."

"Good," he said. "Faile would be most displeased if he was not treated well."

The madam paled at that, and while her smile never moved it took on a certain... forced quality. Perrin turned back to Emil, "Just get some rest. We'll get you home as soon as you can travel." He placed a reassuring hand on Emil's shoulder and turned to leave.

A lightning bolt shot through Emil's heart. "Isla!"

Perrin paused and turned back with a questioning stare.

"Isla, my slave. She's at the ranch alone. If Markem heads back there, she is in danger!"

"Relax young Jackson. Kim saw the truck heading south at high speed. If he was to head back your way, he'd have to come back through town and we'd know. That truck of yours is amazing, but it's not exactly quiet. She's safe enough right where she is."

Mollified, Emil leaned back into the pillow and sighed. "Thanks for everything Perrin."

The large man waved his hand, "Think nothing of it. Besides," he said grinning "Faile is pregnant, and her hormones are very protective right now. If I hadn't done a little asking around like she told me too, it would be my head that would see the wrong side of a mallet. This way, she's like as not to thank me instead." Perrin's giant grin said he was very much looking forward to that conversation later.

Emil and the madam both laughed at that. With a final wave Perrin disappeared out the door.

"Alright Mister Jackson. I'm going to send in one of my girls. She's going to help you get cleaned up. You are in no condition for any fun tonight, so don't even try. When you're done with your bath, you will eat as much as you can hold down and then sleep. Understand?"

Emil chuckled. "Some sleep sounds amazing. If my head ever stops pounding that is," he said with a groan.

"You relax for a few minutes. I'll send someone up," she said. She looked him up and down, and her smile softened into genuine care. She patted his leg, and then slipped out the door. Emil stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, and then gently started to probe at his head. His hair was matted with blood that felt like it had streaked down the left side of his face and was gumming up his ear.

He had a very tender goose egg just behind and above his left ear, and a ragged gash wrapped up and around the back of his skull. Rags had been stuffed into the wound to stop the bleeding thankfully, so at least he wouldn't bleed out.

He let his arm fall to the bed and sighed. He was sure that the pain and double vision would eventually fade, but this was the worst injury he'd ever had and his fears were shouting that he was dying. It was hard not to agree.

There was a soft knock on the door, then it opened and an older woman poked her head in. "Hey darlin! I'm Tina... the herbalist," she said. "Heard you're a little under the weather. Madam Sofie said you needed help cleaning up."

Tina helped him undress and get into the bath. She was very slow and gentle, only causing his head to spin twice. After a gentle scrubbing of his hair to reveal the cut, she sewed it back up with some silk string they had boiled and wrapped it in bandages, and helped him back into bed. A delicious bowl of soup was shoved into his face and he was ordered to eat.

He happily wolfed down as much soup as he could, and followed that up with what he was sure was his own bodyweight in water. As soon as she left with the empty soup bowl, Emil laid down and closed his eyes to keep the world from spinning... and was out like a blown candle.

Emil slept. For how long, he didn't know. He was woke a couple of times to use the chamber pot and force fed some soup, but they were flashes in the dark. After his fifth or sixth feeding, he was finally able to force himself awake fully as a hand grasped his gently.

Faile was standing there with a smile. "How you feeling there, big chief?"

"Ugh. It feels like someone used my head to play cricket. Am I dead, or does it just feel that way?"

Faile laughed softly as she helped him stand up. "Oh you'll live. You do look like three day old roadkill though. Your head is misshapen from the lumps, and you're at least four different colors."

Emil froze and stared at her in horror. "I'm not pretty anymore? But what will my adoring public say?"

"Oh shut up. You might have a pretty wicked scar, but don't worry. Chicks dig scars."

Faile helped him over to the water closet. Once he had answered nature's summons, she helped him down the stairs, where several of the employees were lounging on the various chairs and sofas in the waiting room. When they saw him begin to stumble down the stairs, they all cheered and clapped. One woman in the back wolf-whistled at him.

Emil gave them a cheeky grin and started to bow, but his head was only precariously attached to his spine and when he bent forward it lost connection to his legs and he started to fall down the stairs. Only Faile's quick reactions and surprising strength kept him from tumbling headfirst into the hard wooden staircase.

Faile basically carried him down the rest of the stairs and several hands helped him into a nearby chair. "Easy now young Jackson. You'll be fine, but you're still pretty deep in the rough. Take it slow, and don't move your head if you can help it."

"How long have I been out?"

"Three days," she said, eyeing him warily, ready to catch him if he responded poorly.

"Ouch! That's a new record. I hope Isla is ok. I told her I was only going to be gone for most of the day, and here it's been half a week. She's probably freaking out. And my sheep are probably very hungry." Emil chuckled at his own lame joke. He was really just trying to process what happened and not freak out himself.

'

Why did Markem rob me? He seemed perfectly pleasant, and I lived up to my end of the bargain, even advancing his wages like he asked. If he had done well this winter I probably would have given him extra anyway.'

He sighed dejectedly. It couldn't have been him, but that still didn't make him feel good. The poor man must have really been in trouble for him to take such drastic measures.

"Tanner senior came back from Dallas while you were asleep. He spoke to the sheriff down there and warned him about the truck. Sadly they hadn't seen it yet, but promised that they would send a runner if they did. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news Emil, but it's most likely gone."

That stung. If he was honest that stung worse than the robbery and head wound combined. That truck was his baby, and the thought of it being smashed or sold to someone was heart wrenching. He had spent many a happy childhood day with his father under the hood of that beautiful uhaul, learning the parts and maintenance of it all. Old technology was amazing. The idea that you could somehow take a liquid and turn it into motion was so fascinating. His father explaining things like compression and torque, and him sitting on the wheel well listening in rapt attention.

He wiped his eyes surreptitiously, and cleared his throat. "Alright. What's next?"

Faile gave him a compassionate smile. "Well, if you're feeling up to it, I figured the next task would probably be: getting you a cart and horse. Or really anything that you can use to get around or haul goods in. I imagine that you'd like to get home and check on things."

Emil nodded carefully, and his vision only swam a little. "You're right. Do you know of anyone who might be selling?"

"I had Tanner ask around while he was down in Dallas. They have plenty of both for sale down there, but no one up here has any. Wayne might be willing to part with his old mule, but she's a little worn down these days. The Weavers said they were planning to do a resupply run down that ways anyway, they'd be happy to drive a horse and cart back for you if you let them load it with goods on the way up. It's a win-win. You can get your cart, and they can buy extra supplies. A few people have already approached them about placing orders for various sundries. I told them I'd bring you by the Pony to talk about it when you were up to it."

Emil sighed in relief. "Perfect. Now all I need to do is figure out a way to pay for it. Let's go to the Pony. Matt knows I was robbed. If he's still willing to go down to Dallas for me, he must have a way for me to pay him. Let's go hear him out."

Faile helped him up and one of the painted ladies brought him a walking stick she had carved the larger knots off. Emil thanked her with a hug, and they set out for the Prancing Pony.

The walk was further than he remembered. Either that or he was an invalid. Each step seemed to rattle his skull, and sent shooting pains into his brain. Even with the walking stick and Faile's help, by the time they stumbled into the tavern and sat down, Emil was more winded than he thought was proper.

"Hey hon," Lacy greeted him. "How you feelin?"

Emil forced a smile to his face, trying to ignore the flashing lights behind his eyes from the migraine he was sporting. "Oh, I'm a little sore. Nothing that some of your famous tea wouldn't cure," he replied with a chuckle.

Lacy beamed at him. "Coming right up. If you'd like, I can send a runner to Tina's place. She has some of those special greenleaf infused sweetrolls that she uses to help with pain. I think it's only ten silver for a couple of them."

Emil began to decline, but Faile put a handful of coins on the table. "As much as that will buy please."

"I can't Faile. I appreciate it, but I don't want to owe you more than I already do," he protested.

Both women completely ignored him, Lacy sweeping up the coins and promptly heading off. Faile turned to look him in the eye. "I appreciate a man who pays his debts Emil, but there's always a time when incurring debt is necessary. Besides, consider this advance payment on the side of mutton I'm purchasing."

Emil opened his mouth to argue, but then considered it. Everyone needed to eat, and he was the largest ranch out this far north. He usually was able to get two to four gold per head of rough cut mutton, and he had quite a few milling around. This might be a lot easier than he thought.

"Fair enough. I'll deliver it as soon as I can." He met her gaze and saw no pity, but only friendly concern. "Thanks Faile. I'd probably still be on the side of the road if you hadn't helped me out. I won't forget this."

She snorted and shook her head. "Oh I have no fear of that," she said with a wicked gleam in her eye. "If nothing else, you'll be reminded every time you see your new scars in the mirror. And if you forget, I'll give you another to match."

Emil broke out in a deep belly laugh, before wincing at the lighting rod of pain that shot through his skull. "Oh, don't make me laugh. It hurts," he said.

Lacy arrived a few minutes later with a small basket of sweetrolls, as well as a note from Tina on proper dosage. She vanished to get them some tea to wash it down, but it was delivered a few minutes later by the owner instead.

"Mr. Jackson," she began. "I'm Dongmei, the owner here. We've never been formally introduced," she said shaking his hand gently. "It's convenient that you are here, I was planning on sending Tom up to your ranch in the next couple weeks anyway to place an order. I need twelve sides of lamb if you got it. Need to replenish my larder, as it's looking a bit thin."

Emil took a sip of his steaming beverage to give himself a moment to gather his wits. "Sure, that's no problem at all. Might take a week or two to deliver though. I'm still a little wobbly."

Donmei waved her hand as if it was no matter. "I figured as much. I don't need them immediately. If you can deliver in the fortnight, I will be happy."

He cleared his throat as an idea struck him. "Miss Dongmei, would it be possible to get paid in advance? I normally take payment upon delivery, but I seem to find myself short on coin suddenly."

Dongmei's smile faded as she looked him up and down. She looked to Faile who gave the subtlest of nods. Her smile returned. "Yeah that won't be a problem I guess. It's not like I don't know where you live..." she trailed off. "Let us say two gold a head?"

Emil normally didn't mind the bargain dance, but his head hurt and he didn't want to argue with the woman who was doing him a favor. "I normally ask four gold a head. However, you're paying up front and in bulk, so let us say three gold a head and call it done."

The owner's eyes lit up as she beamed at him. "Done and done. I'll even throw in tonight's meal." Emil and Dongmei shook on it, and she counted out the eighteen gold from her till and passed it over to him in a small coin purse.

Feeling hugely better now that he had something in his pockets other than lint, Emil was finally able to relax and enjoy his tea. He chatted with Faile about the latest gossip in town as he waited for Weaver to make his appearance. Apparently one of the River's girls had been found pregnant but refused to name the father, and it was a few days before some boy he'd never heard had fessed up. The two had been promptly married, and it was all anyone could talk about.

As they chatted, several other people approached him and began placing orders on his ranch. By the time Matt had arrived Emil was sitting on orders for hide, horn, and wool as well as several dozen sides of lamb. Tina had even placed an order for a bunch of testicles. He had no idea why she wanted them, but didn't ask. All told his herd would take a decent hit, but he was technically wealthier than he'd been a couple days ago.