Outside of the Central Office, Ford stopped and scratched his chin, deep in thought as the harsh breeze tasseled his dark hair. Overhead, dark clouds roiled and churned, occasionally flashing bright with lightning, their inky masses swirling with an ominous energy that echoed Ford's mood. A gust of wind whipped through the fort, carrying the scent of salt and the distant rumble of thunder.
Ebeneezer stood quietly beside him, his cane tapping lightly against his leg as he waited for Ford to speak.
“Ebeneezer,” Ford finally said, “do you have any money on you? We might have to pay a fine or bail Redhand out of jail.”
Ebeneezer nodded without hesitation. “I do, and I would be happy to pay whatever’s needed.”
Ford nodded in appreciation, a glimmer of relief crossing his stern features. “Thank you. Lori,” he turned to his daughter, “unsaddle Jangles and meet us at the marshal’s office.”
“Yes, sir,” Lori nodded. She turned and ran toward the barn. Her heart raced as she wondered what her father would do if this ‘Hard’ marshal was as bad as he sounded.
Lori closed the barn doors behind her, the heavy wooden panels creaking as they swung shut. She hurried toward Jangles and quickly unstrapped the saddle from the dragon.
“We might be diving headfirst into some serious trouble, Jangles.” Lori pulled her gunbelt from the saddlebags and cinched it around her waist. She spun the cylinder of her pistol, checking to make sure she had it loaded before sliding it back into its holster. Then she hooked the pulleys to his saddle. “Redhand’s been arrested for something and Dad’s going down to the marshal’s office to see what he can do.” She furiously worked the pulley hoist to lift the large saddle off his back.
“Oh, good Lord,” Jangles moaned. “He’ll burn the jail down or something! Hurry!”
As Lori wrestled with the hoist, a low, chirping voice echoed from the back of the barn. It was soft yet resonant, like the gentle rustling of leaves in a summer breeze.
"Are you going to help Redhand?" came the question, filled with a curious and slightly anxious tone.
Lori glanced over her shoulder, spotting the Thunderbird standing at the back of the barn, its feathers shimmering in the dim light. "Yes," she said.
“I come.” The blood red thunderbird shook himself and walked toward them. “I help. You friend of Redhand?”
“I don’t know him personally, but my father and Ebeneezer do.” Lori raised the saddle up high enough and Jangles stooped to get out from underneath it. “Is Redhand your pilot?”
“Redhand is my friend. You help Redhand, I help you.”
Together, they hurried out of the barn and crossed the courtyard to the gates. The soldiers, upon seeing Jangles and the thunderbird, quickly opened the gates and let them out. Lori thanked them as they closed the gates behind them.
Jangles and the thunderbird strode with purpose, their steps long and sure, while Lori struggled to keep pace. The sandstorm raged around them, its fury unyielding, and now bolts of lightning danced across the distant sky. Lori hastily pulled down her goggles and tied her kerchief tight over her face, battling against the stinging barrage of sand.
After venturing a hundred feet from the fort, they arrived at a wooden bridge arching over the creek. The planks creaked and groaned beneath the formidable weight of the dragon and the thunderbird. As they made their way across, the sound of gushing water below blended harmoniously with the howling wind and the distant growl of thunder.
Lori cast a curious look at the majestic thunderbird strolling next to her. "What do they call you?" she hollered, trying to be heard above the howling wind.
"Wakiye Wambli," he responded, his voice a deep and resonant echo amidst the howling gale.
“Good to know you, Wakiye. I’m Lori, and this is Jangles.”
Wakiye nodded to them both but said nothing.
Soon, the outlines of buildings began to emerge from the swirling sands, and they found themselves in the town of Fort Dane. The streets stood deserted, the townsfolk taking refuge from the storm. Lori could feel the tension in the air, a sense of unease that had settled over the town.
“Why did they arrest Redhand?”
"Redhand was taken by the hard marshal for being drunk," Wakiye Wambli explained. "But he was not drunk. A strong spirit had taken him, and he became violent. I tried to explain this to the hard marshal, but he would not listen. He beat Redhand and put him in his jail."
"How long is his sentence?" Lori asked, her voice barely audible over the wind.
"Thirty days," Wakiye replied. "And the hard marshal will not let him go."
Lori's face set with determination as she pressed forward, her eyes meeting Jangles in a silent exchange of worry.
They reached the marshal’s office, where, despite the storm, a deputy sat out front, leaning back in a chair with his feet propped against a post. He tried to appear relaxed, but his stiff posture betrayed his tension. By his size, Lori surmised he must be an ogre, or possibly a Rocky Mountain troll. These beings were known for their immense stature, and Lori's suspicions were further fueled by the deputy's broad shoulders and large build.
The deputy was wrapped in a red sarape adorned with diamond patterns, and his face was concealed by a kerchief of a similar hue. His hat was pulled low over his eyes, and his arms were folded beneath the sarape. Lori could tell his hand was poised on a gun underneath the fabric, a silent but clear warning to anyone who might consider causing trouble.
"Jangles, find your way around to the back of the jail and listen for any trouble," Lori instructed. Jangles nodded and casually made his way into the alley.
"Wakiye, I need you to stay out front," Lori continued, turning to the thunderbird. "Keep an eye on things here." Wakiye Wambli gave a solemn nod, his gaze unwavering as he settled into a watchful stance by the entrance. He spared a glare for the deputy.
Lori stepped onto the boardwalk, her eyes never leaving the deputy. His posture remained unchanged, but she could feel his eyes following her every move, a silent threat lurking beneath his calm exterior.
As she drew closer, Lori caught a glimpse of blue skin peeking out from above the deputy's kerchief, confirming her suspicion that he was indeed an ogre. His sideways glance was enough to send a shiver down her spine, but she pressed on, refusing to be intimidated.
Lori pushed open the door to the marshal’s office, steeling herself against the tension that greeted her. The marshal, a burly man with a perpetual scowl, sat behind his desk, exuding an air of cocky defiance. Behind him, another deputy, an ogre like the one outside, stood with his arms folded, a sneer plastered on his face.
The interior of the marshal’s office offered a little respite from the storm raging outside. A large wooden desk, cluttered with an assortment of papers and official documents, dominated the center of the room. Wanted posters, yellowed and curling at the edges, adorned the rough wooden walls, showcasing the faces of outlaws and fugitives. Scattered pieces of office furniture, including a pair of worn wooden chairs and a chest of drawers, filled the space. Behind the marshal’s desk, two lit oil lamps on the wall cast a flickering, dim light, their glow barely penetrating the gloom.
Ford stood in front of the desk facing the marshal, his expression one of frustrated calm. Beside him, Ebeneezer pleaded earnestly with the marshal.
The marshal leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing. "Redhand is serving out his thirty days, and he can't have visitors," he said with finality. His tone was as cold and unyielding as the steel bars of the jail.
As if on cue, the ogre deputy from outside entered the office, his towering frame filling the doorway. He leaned against the wall, arms folded, his presence adding to the already threatening atmosphere. Lori could feel the weight of their combined stares, each one a silent challenge.
This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.
From the corner of her eye, Lori caught sight of movement through the large window behind the marshal's desk. Her heart skipped a beat as she recognized her friend, Devin Andrews, who was trying discreetly to get her attention. He motioned for her to come outside, his urgency clear even from a distance.
Lori took a deep breath, her mind racing as she weighed her options. Without a word, she turned and quietly exited the office, the oppressive atmosphere lifting slightly as she stepped back into the storm.
She spotted Devin huddled under the boardwalk awning of a nearby saloon. She dashed over to join him. Devin, just a year her senior but noticeably shorter, was a bundle of nerves. His round frame shook as he anxiously rubbed his hands together. Dressed in plain attire with a well-worn leather satchel slung over his shoulder, he looked every bit the picture of unease.
As she approached, he smiled nervously. "Lori, I got your message," he rasped, his voice crackling like dry leaves. "What’s going on?"
Lori inhaled deeply and her smile contorted in an uneasy grimace. "I need your help, Devin. Redhand’s in trouble, and we have to get him out to deal with this storm. But first, I need you to go inside the marshal’s office."
Devin's eyes widened, and he took a step back, his hands fidgeting nervously. "The marshal's office? Lori, you know I can't... that place... those ogres..." His voice trailed off, filled with a mix of fear and desperation. He nervously rubbed at something beneath his shirt.
Lori grabbed his shoulders firmly, forcing him to meet her gaze. "I wouldn't ask if it wasn't absolutely necessary. We need Redhand.” She held out her hand, palm up.
Devin sagged under the weight of her plea, his resolve crumbling. "Alright, alright," he said, his voice a trembling whisper. "I'll do it, but I’m scared, Lori." Taking a deep breath, Devin reached around his neck and unclasped a medallion he always wore. The medallion was plain with only a few odd symbols on it, and it gleamed in the faint light of the orange sky above. He placed it in Lori’s palm, along with his weathered satchel, his hands shaking slightly. "Give it back to me as soon as you get Redhand out of there."
Lori took the medallion, feeling its cool weight in her hand. "I will, Devin. I most definitely will." She placed it in her pocket.
As Devin crossed the street, with a noticeable slump in his shoulders, Lori called Jangles back with the pilot’s whistle. Spotting Wakiye nearby, she waved him over urgently. Jangles galloped toward her and skidded to a stop.
"Wakiye, Jangles, I need you to listen carefully," Lori began, her voice steady but urgent. "I'm about to go into the jail, and all hell might break loose. I need you to get Ebeneezer and my father to the Fort as quickly as possible."
Wakiye's eyes widened slightly as he nodded. "Understood."
Jangles sighed. “Oh, no… What are you going to do?”
“Trust me. It’s better for everybody if I handle it instead of Dad.” She draped Devin’s satchel over one of his horns. “Get that back to the fort, too.”
Jangles groaned. “I don’t like leaving you alone.”
“Then come back as soon as Dad is safe.” Lori took a deep breath, steeling herself and taking a step forward. The door creaked open as she stepped inside, the dim interior a sharp change from the stormy light outside.
Devin stood against the wall, his hands buried deep in his pockets, eyes fixed on the floorboards as if seeking refuge from the escalating tension. The marshal leaned over his cluttered desk, his face flushed with fury, veins bulging at his temples. His fists clenched and unclenched rhythmically with the barely contained rage that threatened to spill over.
Ford, standing tall and composed, a contrast to the marshal's visible agitation. His calm demeanor only infuriated the marshal further, deepening the scowl etched across his brow. Across the room, Ebeneezer squared off with the two towering ogres, the disparity in their sizes adding a surreal, almost comical touch to the otherwise charged atmosphere. Despite the absurdity of the visual, the tension hung in the air like a thick fog as each man held his ground, awaiting the inevitable clash.
Lori touched her father’s shoulder, and he leaned closer to her as she whispered in his ear. “Dad, trust me, you and Ebeneezer head back to the fort.”
He shook his head and turned back to the marshal, but she squeezed his shoulder. “Dad, will you trust me?”
Ford clenched his jaws, then nodded. He glanced at Ebeneezer, a subtle nod hinting at his next move. "Ebeneezer, we're leaving," he said with a measured tone, his voice steady amidst the chaos. "Thank you, marshal, for your assistance today. I wish you and your deputies a good day."
Ebeneezer's brow furrowed in confusion, his eyes darting from Ford to Lori and back to the marshal. He hesitated for a moment, but Ford's unwavering calm drew him in. Reluctantly, he followed Ford's lead.
“Gentlemen, a good day to you.” Ebeneezer, with a courteous flourish, tipped his hat, performed an elaborate bow, then positioned his hat back atop his head before trailing Ford out the door.
The marshal, sensing a moment of triumph, couldn't resist a parting shot. "You'd better leave while you still can," he sneered, his voice dripping with condescension.
Ford paused, turning back slightly to face the marshal. His expression remained serene, almost bemused. "Have a good day, marshal," he repeated. He winked at Lori, then turned and continued towards the door, Ebeneezer trailing behind, still bewildered but trusting in Ford's unshakeable composure.
The marshal muttered to himself, his eyes narrowing into slits as he processed the scene that had just unfolded. His gaze shifted, involuntarily, towards Lori and Devin, as if noticing them for the first time. His face twisted into a sneer, and he barked out a question, laced with derision.
"And what do you two think you're doing here?" he demanded, his voice dripping with contempt. "This isn't a place for meddling kids." He picked up a wanted poster and looked it over.
Lori folded her arms. “One last chance, marshal. Let Redhand go.”
The marshal looked up at her and scoffed, then smiled in triumph as he stood, swinging his keys. “You are under arrest for attempting to aid in the escape of a prisoner-”
He never finished the last word. What happened next took place in the blink of an eye. Lori's hand moved with lightning speed, drawing her revolver and firing off two shots that shattered the lanterns on the walls behind the marshal, sending shards of glass and splashes of flaming oil cascading across the wooden floor.
The flames spread rapidly, licking the edges of the room and casting wild, dancing shadows on the walls. The deputy ogres stood in stunned silence; their eyes wide with disbelief as they watched the fire begin to consume the room. The marshal's eyes darted between the growing inferno and Lori, his face a mask of panic and rage. He reached for his pistol, but his hand froze halfway when Lori's voice cut through the chaos with a steely edge.
“You better be sure.” The flames reflected in Lori’s cold eyes.
The ogres tried to stomp out the flames as the marshal stared at Lori with frozen hatred. One ogre, panicking, grabbed a nearby blanket and began swatting at the fire, only to find that the blanket quickly caught alight. He yelped and dropped it, hopping around as he tried to shake off the singed edges of his shirt.
The other deputy attempted to smother the fire with his serape. He flapped it wildly, but all he accomplished was to fan the flames, causing them to leap higher and spread faster across the wooden floor. The red serape soon became a casualty, and he threw it aside with a grunt of frustration.
Meanwhile, Lori stood unmoved amidst the chaos, her gaze fixed unwaveringly on the marshal. Her hand hovered inches away from the grip of her pistol, poised and ready.
“Toss me those keys,” Devin said, his squeaky voice sounding as unsure as ever.
The marshal looked Devin up and down with contempt. “You ain’t even got a gun. Why should I listen to you?”
“Give him the keys.” Lori said.
The marshal scowled in anger that shook him to his core. “I’ll have you both arrested! I’ll put a bounty on your head so large you won’t be able to come within a thousand miles of civilization ever again!”
“If you don’t hurry up and give him the keys, you won’t have much of a jail left to put us in.”
The marshal grimaced and flung the keys across the floor towards Devin. As they skidded to a halt, Devin bent down to grab them. Just then, the deputy ogre who had lost his serape charged at him, sending him sprawling to the ground. Meanwhile, another deputy started to rush at Lori but froze in his tracks, stopped by her unwavering stare directed at the marshal. From where she stood, Lori had both the deputy and the marshal in her line of sight, ready to draw on them without hesitation.
The wrestling match continued out of Lori’s field of view, yet she never moved or even blinked. The marshal and the other deputy stared at her in confusion.
“My deputy’s got your man. You drop that gunbelt and give yourself up and I’ll go easy on you.”
Lori gave a slight shake of her head. “You’ve got that the wrong way around.”
A deep, rumbling growl reverberated through the jail's floorboards. The marshal and the unoccupied deputy whipped their heads toward the source of the rumbling. Their eyes widened in shock as they quickly dodged out of the way, just in time to avoid the airborne ogre that crashed into the wall with a resounding crack.
Lori remained frozen in place; her gaze fixed unwaveringly on the marshal. Her hand hovered inches away from the grip of her pistol. She did not have to turn around to know what stood behind her. Instead of the short, pudgy boy she had come in with, stood a colossal werewolf, larger than either ogre.
“Devin,” she shouted, her eyes locked on the lawmen, “Get Redhand.”
The colossal werewolf let out a thunderous roar, almost bursting Lori's eardrums, and charged at the door leading to the jail, smashing it down along with a huge chunk of the wall. Through the gaping hole, Lori could now see Redhand, who stood frozen against the wall, his eyes wide with terror as the beast advanced. Devin grasped the iron bars of the cell, effortlessly tearing them free and flinging them aside like twigs. Redhand, paralyzed with fear, covered his face and crouched, anticipating the worst.
“Chief Redhand!” Lori shouted, “were with Colonel Drake! We’re getting out of here!”
Devin took a step back from the cell, and Redhand cautiously lowered his hands. He then edged through the narrow gap in the bars, his eyes never leaving Devin. As he moved backward into the office, he kept a wary eye on the werewolf, ensuring he never turned his back.
“Get your belongings, if you’ve got any,” Lori said.
“I have only what I wear.”
“Great. Devin, could you take him to the fort?”
The werewolf growled and held his hand out to her.
“I’ll give it back to you at the fort. I promise.”
Devin's fist tightened in fury, and she briefly feared he might lash out at her. Instead, he directed his rage at the front door, smashing it with such force that another Devin-shaped hole appeared in the wall.
Lori retreated backwards through the freshly made opening, her hand hovering near her pistol, her gaze fixed firmly on the marshal. With a nod toward the growing blaze licking at the floorboards, she quipped, “So long, marshal. Next time, don’t be so rude to my father or his friends.”
