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karrenia_runeTitle: A Fistful of Sky
Fandom: Space Cases
Author: karrenia
Genre: AU, Old West
Words: 1435
Prompt: "Of course I have a plan, I just haven't thought of it yet.
Disclaimer: Space Cases belongs to Nickoloden, Bill Mumy, Peter David etc, they are not mine. The story is set in a space-age alternate universe old west and was written for the 2011 Space Cases Promptathon.
"A Fistful of Sky" by karrenia
Catalina strode out of the smoky and rather heated interior of the saloon for a much needed breath of fresh air the hem of the brightly colored calico dress nearly catching between the door frame and the wall as she brushed by and it slammed shut behind her. The brightly hued patterns of her dress was almost but not quite reflected in her hair.
The main drag of the town was empty at this late hour of the evening and she took advantage of both the lull in the action inside and quiet to gaze up at the stars.
Thinking as she did so if the things that she had learned in the past few days were worth bringing to the attention of Sheriff Seth Goddard.
He'd been in and out of the Starling Saloon and Rooming House a handful of times in the last month and she'd gotten to know quite well, but her suppositions about the scarred stranger who called himself Reader might very well be the product of her own anxieties and over-active imagination.
The girl with the yellow gloves whose skin was as pink as a chrystauem on her shirt sleeve, Rosie, had been the one who had encouraged Catalina to trust her feelings.
Figuring that now was as good a time as any Catalina turned around and re-entered the saloon.
She found Sheriff Seth Goddard seated at a round table in middle along with two of his deputies, one a young intense young man with curly black hair and dusky black skin. The other, a slightly built young man with hair the color of wheat and intense bright blue eyes seemed much more subdued by contrast.
They were playing a card game so she waited on the edge of the table for a lull in the game before approaching the sheriff while mentally going over what she would say to him.
The outlaw known only as Reaver and his hench-man had an established reputation as being one of the worst of the worst blackguards in the territory and was considered both armed and dangerous.
He looked up and waved in a friendly if off-hand manner upon seeing her. "Yes, Can I help you?"
"Actually, yes, you can."
"Have a seat, Ma'am."
"She's pretty," Harlan smiled.
"Not the time or place for that kind of thing, Mr. Band," Goddard said.
Catalina blushed. "Thank you. It's like this, just the other evening passed the outlaw known as Reaver came through here, and you know how he likes to preen and boast something fierce."
Goddard narrowed his eyes and leaned forward in his chair until his elbows rested on the table top, wondering if this might give the break in his hunt for the notorious outlaw that he had been looking for. It was certainly no secret that he and the outlaw had had at odds many a time in the past; and he for the man's assorted crimes and misdeeds he must be made to pay for them.
It went beyond just collecting the substantial bounty on the man's head, beyond the admitted good of putting the man behind bars.
He was the law in these parts and justice must be served. "Please, go on."
"Sir, my name is Catalina, Miss Davenport was out running errands the other evening when he came in along with henchman, and I would have thought nothing more of it, except I guess he drank one pint too many and it loosened up his tongue. He let slip that he'll hitting the Silver Bullet express train that departs at 7pm from Silver Springs and arrives at Mesa Verde at midnight."
"That is indeed valuable information, Miss Catalina."
"I don't know if by telling you this," she sighed and then reached up to run a hand through her bright t hair, and finger-combed some if not all of the snarls out of it. "If I've made things better or worse for you."
Looking at that hair Harlan, ignoring his superior's earlier admonition about time and place asked: "Did you dye your hair, cause it's really pretty."
Catalina flushed. "I don't think so. It's something that runs in family."
Goddard snorted and then offered her a devil-may-care grin; after all, he could still remember what it was like to be young and smitten with a pretty young lady.
Up until now, the young man with the wheat color bound up tightly in a black leather thong, finally spoke up. "Sir, I think we should, uh, definitely act on her information. I sense it's the lead we've been looking for."
"I agree, Mr. Radu."
"Hey, wait a minute!" exclaimed Harlan.
"Thank you, Miss Catalina. If this information gets you into trouble with the Miss Davenport, I promise to intercede on your behalf," stated Goddard.
"Oh, don't worry about that. I'm certain that Ms. Davenport will understand once I explain it to her."
Mounting their horses Goddard and his deputies set out for Silver Springs, stopping only long enough along the way to feed and water the horses and to send a message by courier to the operators of the Silver Bullet Express to warn them of the planned theft of their cargo by Reaver.
**
The moon overhead sailed through the sky wrapped in scudding clouds, its sheen illuminating the tracks and the train as it barreled along. Reaver was already inside thanks to the teleporting ability possessed by Ubi. That same ability had been the reason, well, at least one of the reasons that the man was so damned elusive and difficult to hold in a jail cell.
Goddard knew without having to say so, that getting aboard the train and confronting Reaver and Ubi was going to be the easy part, getting off and in custody was the difficult part.
" Do you have a plan, Sir," asked Radu.
"Of course I have a plan! I just haven't thought of it, yet," replied Goddard.
**
An hour or two later.
"Just because you caught me doesn't that you'll be able to hold me," shouted Reaver, rubbing his shoulder from where he and the young Andromedan had collided, wondering if it was worth it to claim about Goddard playing unfair.
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before," replied Goddard. "How many times are we going to have to do this tired old song and dance."
"It has become, something of a grudge between us, has it not, Goddard?" Reaver sneered and even from the members of both sides stood on the sidelines that skin puckering around his scar was taut with mixed anger and frustration.
"You know the drill," growled Reaver , even as he did he sounded exactly like his cat-like ally, "Lasers at a hundred paces. And let's make one thing abundantly clear: no interference from anyone else." He paused and narrowed his eyes to mere slits, from either side, capice?"
Goddard nodded and replied. "I understand."
Measuring out the distance by sight both men took up their stances at the indicated spots
"Draw, unless yer yellow, Goddard!" Reaver yelled.
"We'll soon find out."
As if that were the unvoiced signal both men drew their laser pistols from their holsters and fired.
The whirring and hissing of coruscating energy zipping through the midnight sky could probably be heard from miles away, but at the instant for these two men there was nothing else but the guns in their hands and their opponent. All else had been subsumed in the shoot-out and both knew that only one of them could walk away from this one.
Then it was all over except for the shouting.
Goddard realized that the energy battery on his laser gun had been depleted, and then on the heels of that thought before worry could set in, he realized that he was still standing.
Surprised but relieved, the rest of the world came rushing in; the moon, the train tracks flashing silver and his deputies running mingled exclamations of concern and whoops that he had been the victor of the shoot-out.
Harlan Band gave him a comradely smack on the back and he grinned. Radu, not to be outdone also gave him a comradely smack on the back that nearly toppled him, the young Andromedan sometimes forgot how strong he actually was; but Goddard was too relieved and too exhausted to admonish him for it.
"What about him?" asked Harlan.
"We'll contact the train deputy and get a spar horse, take him back with us."
"Okay." Harlan replied. "I'll get right on it."
Goddard smiled and slapped them both on the shoulders. "Gentleman, let's go home."
chapter 2 Maverick
Disclaimer: Space Cases belongs to Nickoloden TV, and is the creation of Bill Mumy and Peter David and its producers etc. Note: The story is the follow-up chapter to "A Fistful of Sky."
"Maverick" by karrenia
Often a poker game is just another poker game even when the stakes are high and everyone agrees to the rules beforehand.
The dealer dealt two cards face down to each player, and one card dealt face up to each player.
The player with the highest card showing opened the first betting round. Following this betting round, another card is dealt face-up to each player, followed by a betting round, followed by a third card face-up, followed by a betting round, followed by a fourth card face-up, followed by a betting round, followed by the last card dealt face-down, concluded by the final betting round.
The player that opened each betting round is the player that has the best hand showing out of the cards face-up.
And while the stakes may be high enough to warrant risking losing one’s shirt over the pot; as far as Miles Standish was concerned it only got interesting when a fight broke out.
His boss, Reaver, as ever a mean-souled petty tyrant as one could hope to find, was a stingy sort.
That being said he would not relish the idea of having to cover his men’s’ bets from the most mediocre of wagers to the ones that bordered on sheer bravado.
No matter how much of a blackguard one might consider Reaver or his henchmen; there still remained a streak of honor within them. Miles Standish had determined to prove that he was no exception to that rule.
Sheriff Seth Goddard for his part believed that he had entered into the high-stakes game fully aware that he understood and appreciated the risks involved.
If for no other reason than the fact that Standish was proving to be an exceptional poker player. In order to stall for time he pretended to study the combination of face and numbered suit cards in his hand, wondering if he should consider drawing in order to fill in a potential straight. Difficult, at the best of times, but not impossible, and he did so relish a challenge.
Throughout the course of the game the owner and mistress of the Starling Saloon, T.J Davenport had come out to run a stern and appraising eye over those who sat drinking, dining and or gambling in her establishment. She wore a blue and gold dress with pleated ruffles at the shoulders, elbows and wrists, the fabric rustling in a cloud around her slender frame.
She had a look on her face that seemed to read that she brooked no nonsense from anyone be it her staff or her guests.
She approaching the table where Standish and his companions were playing poker with Goddard she paused to issue a stern lecture. “Gentlemen, and I use the term loosely, please be advised that under no circumstances do I wish to see the place trashed by the inevitable fallout of any disagreements between the lot of you. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
“Crystal clear.” Godddard nodded encouragingly at her, tipping his hat in her general direction and offering one of his trade-marked off-center grins.
Davenport sniffed and seemed to be a bit mollified by the gesture and the acknowledgement that he would try to enforce at least one of the state rules of her establishment. In the back of her mind she thought, ‘Emphasis on the word try, one cannot have everything one might wish. I recall, not without some trepidation that our dear Sherriff Goddard has a reputation for being a man of his word, but if precedent is any guide, the last time he was in here he got my new girl
Catalina in such a fluster over that blackguard Reaver, that I worried she might have come down with a fever. I will not have something of that sort happening again.’
She left to attend to an urgent call from the barkeep, an automaton named Thelma who due to her cracked logic crystal more often than that had a tendency to confuse patron’s drink orders, but on the whole was quite efficient in her own way.
Davenport walked away from the table in a swirl of cotton and lace.
Standish took his attention off of his own hand long enough to let his gaze linger on Davenport’s departing form longer than might have been considered proper, and then smirked. “Fine breeding on that one, I’d reckon she’s got a temper to match that red hair, too. Still, did I could not mistake the spark in those blue eyes.”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” griped Goddard, signaling for another round of drinks to the serving girl, one he did not recognize, except that it was not Catalina. This girl’s skin was tinted as pink as the lace on Miss Davenport’s dress and she wore bright yellow gloves over her hands. He gave his order and she replied in a bright and cheery voice as her yellow gloves, that she be right back with their beer.
“If I were a betting man, which I am,’ Standish continued not to be deterred by Goddard’s surly and hostile tone of voice, “I’d reckon that she fancies you, Seth, old boy. In fact, I could have sworn I saw sparks fly.”
“Now, I know that you really are in dire straits, I think I just might win this one after all.”
“How do you reckon that,” one of Standish’s players seated on his immediate left asked, interested in spite of himself.
“Because, he’s trying to distract me, talking about trivialities, means Standish, old boy, you’re getting desperate. A sure sign that you’ve got a losing hand.” Goddard was not entirely certain even in his own mind if that were the case but he could be reasonably sure that his odds were looking up.
Several hours into the game and several pitchers of beer later, most of Standish’s men had folded leaving only himself and Goddard, the pot of money of had grown considerably and he could almost taste victory it was just at the tip of his fingertips, when a chance remark who had questioned him earlier caught his attention.
“I don’t know about you, but I think we got the high and might Sherriff occupied, least aways were buying time for the boss to put his plan into action.”
“Shut up, no good for nothing bean-pole,” his companion replied, “You idiot, the only reason Standish agreed to let you in on this here game was because we needed an extra player.”
“Goddard snapped his around and pinned the skinny swallow-skinned fellow with one of his level best stares.
The man so cornered grinned and squirmed around where he stood, shuffling his feet and looking around the room at anything and anyone just to avoid making eye contact with Goddard.
“Pay no attention to them, Goddard, they’re just the grants,” Standish interrupted. “We still have a game to conclude, one or the other. If it’s any consolation to you, should I lose I should let you know that you’ve given me more of a challenge than many men have in the past.”
“Standish, I am going to ask you right out, what is Reaver up to?”
Standish shrugged. “How should I know? He never tells us in advance, most of the time he has that furry tele-morph of his come by with the details or he wires us to met him at a certain place at a certain time.”
“He’s been biding his time, then?”
“Something like that, then knowing him whatever he’s planning, it ‘s gonna big! No half-measures for Reaver, let me tell you that.”
“Aren’t you at all concerned that anything you tell me might get back to your boss, with repercussions for you?” Goddard asked.
“Not really, I’m just the set-up guy. And Goddard, it has been a pleasure playing with you. So I’ll let you on a little secret as much as the boss hates your guts he seemingly cannot let go of his shall we say, obsession with you.”
Standish sighed. “Hell, if I know why? Are you in or out?”
“Huh? Oh, the game, right. I’m in, Pair of Kings over Twos.”
“Bets my hand,” Standish replied as he spread his own cards face up on the table. “You won. I in consideration of the stated rules of our hostess I shall not demand satisfaction.”
“That’s very decent of you,” Goddard replied.
“I do have my moments,” Standish stated as he got up from the table and reached over to extend a hand to other man.
“This game is concluded, not the real life one begins. I do hope you’re up to the challenge. Good luck, Sherriff Goddard. You’re going to need it.”
chapter 3 "All the Pretty Horses"
Summary:
Every so often the law catches a lucky break and Sheriff Seth Goddard is not above using that to his advantage, especially when he's after his old nemeis, the notorious outlaw, Reaver.
"All the Pretty Horses" by karrenia
The grassy plain was wide and provided a fantastic view all way to the distantly glimpsed horizon. Directly above the head of the riders could be glimpsed a mid-morning sky that was a blue dome only lightly dusted by scudding cumulus clouds.
Harlan Band leaned forward in his saddle in order to brush aside his horse’s mane for a better view.
Covering the open expanse at the edge of the tree-line was a flowing wave upon wave of wild horses; in all colors, from black, to pearl-white, brown and white, and speckled like the underside of a river pebble which he kept in saddle bag as a good luck charm. He drew in a deep breath and then did not breathe for another stretch of time as he admired their wildly beautiful grace and strength.
Riding at his immediate left Radu was absorbed in keeping the long ash-blond hair that had come out of the tight leather cord with which he had tried to restrain; but the speed of their ride had torn it loose, and it was not getting into his eyes. Finished with that task Radu also took a long glance at the milling herd of wild horses.
His blue eyes widened and het let out a low whistle. “That is. That is one of the most beautiful things that I have ever seen.”
Sherriff Seth Goddard who rode up just then nodded and sighed. “I know, gentlemen. And I have it on good authority that we will find our old foe Reaver somewhere up ahead. I don’t need to tell you, but I will anyway, be on the alert, and prepare for the unexpected.”
“Aye, Sir,” they replied.
Meanwhile Reaver and his aide, Ubi were occupied in arguing in how best to divide up the herd and get it to go in the direction that they wanted it to.
They had already spent the past hour and a half arguing over whose idea it was to have gone after such a massive herd in the first place. Arguably, to Reaver’s way of thinking in any case was the bigger the risk, the bigger the rewards.
He also knew that almost every rancher, cowboy, and outlaw in the territory and beyond would have given their right eye-teeth for a wild mustang for the right price. It was said that a wild horse was worth twice as much as the tame variety.
“I told you so!” Ubi grunted angrily.
“Well, how was I to know which was direction Otter Creek Trail lay when you gave directions that consisted when two hands of the sun lay over the tree-tops? I mean what kind of directions are those?” Reaver shouted.
“East, you colossal dunder-head, east, as anyone with half a brain would know,” Ubi retorted, in his mingled frustration and anger not above hurling insults at his boss.
While they were arguing neither had paid as much heed to their surroundings as they might otherwise have done had they been so caught up in their arguments.
They had also neglected to post sentries to watch the approaches to the plain, or placed a guard on the herd.
Goddard, at the head of posse could hear them from about fifty feet away, Radu could hear them from much further off what with his Andromedan hearing, but there really had no reason to put it to the test. Standish, while still a blackguard and a bit of irritating under Goddar’ds saddle, had true to his word.
Standish had given him enough information about where his boss could be found that they had not had much difficulty in locating the Mesa Verde grasslands.
Goddard was also well aware that Reaver tended to cheat and would have more than a few extra nasty surprises up his sleeve.
“Halt up,” Goddard ordered as were within hailing distance of the notorious outlaw, watching as he literally spit saliva so caught he was in arguing with the tele-morph, Ubi.
“What the hell is going on here?” Harlan asked, as usual the first offer his opinion of any given situation.
“From where I sit it looks that Reaver is doing half of our job for us,” replied Goddard with a tight little laugh and a tilt of his head. “Harlan you and Radu swing back around and try and round up the horses, if they are constrained in any fashion, set them free. “
“But…” Harlan began, his dusky skin flushing a light hue of red and his breathing becoming a little more agitated. “I want to help.”
“You can help by doing as I told you.”
Radu leaned over in his saddle and tapped Harlan on the shoulder. “We have our orders, let’s go.”
Harlan nodded and jerked on the reins of his own mount in order to turn it around.
**
Goddard dismounted and then tapped his waist to assure himself that his revolver was still at his side, and crossed the distance to where the pair of outlaws was staring proverbial daggers at each other.
“Hey, not that I want to ruin your gab-fest, but I’m here to tell that the sale of your herd of wild horses is about to fall through,” Goddard stated blandly, his arms folded over his chest. “Just thought you’d like to know.”
“What” Reaver screeched as his swiveled around on his heels nearly scrunching up several divots of churned up earth in the process. “Goddard!” He added in a menacing undertone. “I should have known! What have you down
with my horses?”
“Set them free, the way they should be. What else did you expect me to do with them?”
“We can still make a deal” Reaver replied.
“Sorry, no deal, and by the way, we’re down here. Have a nice day.”
Fandom: Space Cases
Author: karrenia
Genre: AU, Old West
Words: 1435
Prompt: "Of course I have a plan, I just haven't thought of it yet.
Disclaimer: Space Cases belongs to Nickoloden, Bill Mumy, Peter David etc, they are not mine. The story is set in a space-age alternate universe old west and was written for the 2011 Space Cases Promptathon.
"A Fistful of Sky" by karrenia
Catalina strode out of the smoky and rather heated interior of the saloon for a much needed breath of fresh air the hem of the brightly colored calico dress nearly catching between the door frame and the wall as she brushed by and it slammed shut behind her. The brightly hued patterns of her dress was almost but not quite reflected in her hair.
The main drag of the town was empty at this late hour of the evening and she took advantage of both the lull in the action inside and quiet to gaze up at the stars.
Thinking as she did so if the things that she had learned in the past few days were worth bringing to the attention of Sheriff Seth Goddard.
He'd been in and out of the Starling Saloon and Rooming House a handful of times in the last month and she'd gotten to know quite well, but her suppositions about the scarred stranger who called himself Reader might very well be the product of her own anxieties and over-active imagination.
The girl with the yellow gloves whose skin was as pink as a chrystauem on her shirt sleeve, Rosie, had been the one who had encouraged Catalina to trust her feelings.
Figuring that now was as good a time as any Catalina turned around and re-entered the saloon.
She found Sheriff Seth Goddard seated at a round table in middle along with two of his deputies, one a young intense young man with curly black hair and dusky black skin. The other, a slightly built young man with hair the color of wheat and intense bright blue eyes seemed much more subdued by contrast.
They were playing a card game so she waited on the edge of the table for a lull in the game before approaching the sheriff while mentally going over what she would say to him.
The outlaw known only as Reaver and his hench-man had an established reputation as being one of the worst of the worst blackguards in the territory and was considered both armed and dangerous.
He looked up and waved in a friendly if off-hand manner upon seeing her. "Yes, Can I help you?"
"Actually, yes, you can."
"Have a seat, Ma'am."
"She's pretty," Harlan smiled.
"Not the time or place for that kind of thing, Mr. Band," Goddard said.
Catalina blushed. "Thank you. It's like this, just the other evening passed the outlaw known as Reaver came through here, and you know how he likes to preen and boast something fierce."
Goddard narrowed his eyes and leaned forward in his chair until his elbows rested on the table top, wondering if this might give the break in his hunt for the notorious outlaw that he had been looking for. It was certainly no secret that he and the outlaw had had at odds many a time in the past; and he for the man's assorted crimes and misdeeds he must be made to pay for them.
It went beyond just collecting the substantial bounty on the man's head, beyond the admitted good of putting the man behind bars.
He was the law in these parts and justice must be served. "Please, go on."
"Sir, my name is Catalina, Miss Davenport was out running errands the other evening when he came in along with henchman, and I would have thought nothing more of it, except I guess he drank one pint too many and it loosened up his tongue. He let slip that he'll hitting the Silver Bullet express train that departs at 7pm from Silver Springs and arrives at Mesa Verde at midnight."
"That is indeed valuable information, Miss Catalina."
"I don't know if by telling you this," she sighed and then reached up to run a hand through her bright t hair, and finger-combed some if not all of the snarls out of it. "If I've made things better or worse for you."
Looking at that hair Harlan, ignoring his superior's earlier admonition about time and place asked: "Did you dye your hair, cause it's really pretty."
Catalina flushed. "I don't think so. It's something that runs in family."
Goddard snorted and then offered her a devil-may-care grin; after all, he could still remember what it was like to be young and smitten with a pretty young lady.
Up until now, the young man with the wheat color bound up tightly in a black leather thong, finally spoke up. "Sir, I think we should, uh, definitely act on her information. I sense it's the lead we've been looking for."
"I agree, Mr. Radu."
"Hey, wait a minute!" exclaimed Harlan.
"Thank you, Miss Catalina. If this information gets you into trouble with the Miss Davenport, I promise to intercede on your behalf," stated Goddard.
"Oh, don't worry about that. I'm certain that Ms. Davenport will understand once I explain it to her."
Mounting their horses Goddard and his deputies set out for Silver Springs, stopping only long enough along the way to feed and water the horses and to send a message by courier to the operators of the Silver Bullet Express to warn them of the planned theft of their cargo by Reaver.
**
The moon overhead sailed through the sky wrapped in scudding clouds, its sheen illuminating the tracks and the train as it barreled along. Reaver was already inside thanks to the teleporting ability possessed by Ubi. That same ability had been the reason, well, at least one of the reasons that the man was so damned elusive and difficult to hold in a jail cell.
Goddard knew without having to say so, that getting aboard the train and confronting Reaver and Ubi was going to be the easy part, getting off and in custody was the difficult part.
" Do you have a plan, Sir," asked Radu.
"Of course I have a plan! I just haven't thought of it, yet," replied Goddard.
**
An hour or two later.
"Just because you caught me doesn't that you'll be able to hold me," shouted Reaver, rubbing his shoulder from where he and the young Andromedan had collided, wondering if it was worth it to claim about Goddard playing unfair.
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard it all before," replied Goddard. "How many times are we going to have to do this tired old song and dance."
"It has become, something of a grudge between us, has it not, Goddard?" Reaver sneered and even from the members of both sides stood on the sidelines that skin puckering around his scar was taut with mixed anger and frustration.
"You know the drill," growled Reaver , even as he did he sounded exactly like his cat-like ally, "Lasers at a hundred paces. And let's make one thing abundantly clear: no interference from anyone else." He paused and narrowed his eyes to mere slits, from either side, capice?"
Goddard nodded and replied. "I understand."
Measuring out the distance by sight both men took up their stances at the indicated spots
"Draw, unless yer yellow, Goddard!" Reaver yelled.
"We'll soon find out."
As if that were the unvoiced signal both men drew their laser pistols from their holsters and fired.
The whirring and hissing of coruscating energy zipping through the midnight sky could probably be heard from miles away, but at the instant for these two men there was nothing else but the guns in their hands and their opponent. All else had been subsumed in the shoot-out and both knew that only one of them could walk away from this one.
Then it was all over except for the shouting.
Goddard realized that the energy battery on his laser gun had been depleted, and then on the heels of that thought before worry could set in, he realized that he was still standing.
Surprised but relieved, the rest of the world came rushing in; the moon, the train tracks flashing silver and his deputies running mingled exclamations of concern and whoops that he had been the victor of the shoot-out.
Harlan Band gave him a comradely smack on the back and he grinned. Radu, not to be outdone also gave him a comradely smack on the back that nearly toppled him, the young Andromedan sometimes forgot how strong he actually was; but Goddard was too relieved and too exhausted to admonish him for it.
"What about him?" asked Harlan.
"We'll contact the train deputy and get a spar horse, take him back with us."
"Okay." Harlan replied. "I'll get right on it."
Goddard smiled and slapped them both on the shoulders. "Gentleman, let's go home."
chapter 2 Maverick
Disclaimer: Space Cases belongs to Nickoloden TV, and is the creation of Bill Mumy and Peter David and its producers etc. Note: The story is the follow-up chapter to "A Fistful of Sky."
"Maverick" by karrenia
Often a poker game is just another poker game even when the stakes are high and everyone agrees to the rules beforehand.
The dealer dealt two cards face down to each player, and one card dealt face up to each player.
The player with the highest card showing opened the first betting round. Following this betting round, another card is dealt face-up to each player, followed by a betting round, followed by a third card face-up, followed by a betting round, followed by a fourth card face-up, followed by a betting round, followed by the last card dealt face-down, concluded by the final betting round.
The player that opened each betting round is the player that has the best hand showing out of the cards face-up.
And while the stakes may be high enough to warrant risking losing one’s shirt over the pot; as far as Miles Standish was concerned it only got interesting when a fight broke out.
His boss, Reaver, as ever a mean-souled petty tyrant as one could hope to find, was a stingy sort.
That being said he would not relish the idea of having to cover his men’s’ bets from the most mediocre of wagers to the ones that bordered on sheer bravado.
No matter how much of a blackguard one might consider Reaver or his henchmen; there still remained a streak of honor within them. Miles Standish had determined to prove that he was no exception to that rule.
Sheriff Seth Goddard for his part believed that he had entered into the high-stakes game fully aware that he understood and appreciated the risks involved.
If for no other reason than the fact that Standish was proving to be an exceptional poker player. In order to stall for time he pretended to study the combination of face and numbered suit cards in his hand, wondering if he should consider drawing in order to fill in a potential straight. Difficult, at the best of times, but not impossible, and he did so relish a challenge.
Throughout the course of the game the owner and mistress of the Starling Saloon, T.J Davenport had come out to run a stern and appraising eye over those who sat drinking, dining and or gambling in her establishment. She wore a blue and gold dress with pleated ruffles at the shoulders, elbows and wrists, the fabric rustling in a cloud around her slender frame.
She had a look on her face that seemed to read that she brooked no nonsense from anyone be it her staff or her guests.
She approaching the table where Standish and his companions were playing poker with Goddard she paused to issue a stern lecture. “Gentlemen, and I use the term loosely, please be advised that under no circumstances do I wish to see the place trashed by the inevitable fallout of any disagreements between the lot of you. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
“Crystal clear.” Godddard nodded encouragingly at her, tipping his hat in her general direction and offering one of his trade-marked off-center grins.
Davenport sniffed and seemed to be a bit mollified by the gesture and the acknowledgement that he would try to enforce at least one of the state rules of her establishment. In the back of her mind she thought, ‘Emphasis on the word try, one cannot have everything one might wish. I recall, not without some trepidation that our dear Sherriff Goddard has a reputation for being a man of his word, but if precedent is any guide, the last time he was in here he got my new girl
Catalina in such a fluster over that blackguard Reaver, that I worried she might have come down with a fever. I will not have something of that sort happening again.’
She left to attend to an urgent call from the barkeep, an automaton named Thelma who due to her cracked logic crystal more often than that had a tendency to confuse patron’s drink orders, but on the whole was quite efficient in her own way.
Davenport walked away from the table in a swirl of cotton and lace.
Standish took his attention off of his own hand long enough to let his gaze linger on Davenport’s departing form longer than might have been considered proper, and then smirked. “Fine breeding on that one, I’d reckon she’s got a temper to match that red hair, too. Still, did I could not mistake the spark in those blue eyes.”
“Don’t talk nonsense,” griped Goddard, signaling for another round of drinks to the serving girl, one he did not recognize, except that it was not Catalina. This girl’s skin was tinted as pink as the lace on Miss Davenport’s dress and she wore bright yellow gloves over her hands. He gave his order and she replied in a bright and cheery voice as her yellow gloves, that she be right back with their beer.
“If I were a betting man, which I am,’ Standish continued not to be deterred by Goddard’s surly and hostile tone of voice, “I’d reckon that she fancies you, Seth, old boy. In fact, I could have sworn I saw sparks fly.”
“Now, I know that you really are in dire straits, I think I just might win this one after all.”
“How do you reckon that,” one of Standish’s players seated on his immediate left asked, interested in spite of himself.
“Because, he’s trying to distract me, talking about trivialities, means Standish, old boy, you’re getting desperate. A sure sign that you’ve got a losing hand.” Goddard was not entirely certain even in his own mind if that were the case but he could be reasonably sure that his odds were looking up.
Several hours into the game and several pitchers of beer later, most of Standish’s men had folded leaving only himself and Goddard, the pot of money of had grown considerably and he could almost taste victory it was just at the tip of his fingertips, when a chance remark who had questioned him earlier caught his attention.
“I don’t know about you, but I think we got the high and might Sherriff occupied, least aways were buying time for the boss to put his plan into action.”
“Shut up, no good for nothing bean-pole,” his companion replied, “You idiot, the only reason Standish agreed to let you in on this here game was because we needed an extra player.”
“Goddard snapped his around and pinned the skinny swallow-skinned fellow with one of his level best stares.
The man so cornered grinned and squirmed around where he stood, shuffling his feet and looking around the room at anything and anyone just to avoid making eye contact with Goddard.
“Pay no attention to them, Goddard, they’re just the grants,” Standish interrupted. “We still have a game to conclude, one or the other. If it’s any consolation to you, should I lose I should let you know that you’ve given me more of a challenge than many men have in the past.”
“Standish, I am going to ask you right out, what is Reaver up to?”
Standish shrugged. “How should I know? He never tells us in advance, most of the time he has that furry tele-morph of his come by with the details or he wires us to met him at a certain place at a certain time.”
“He’s been biding his time, then?”
“Something like that, then knowing him whatever he’s planning, it ‘s gonna big! No half-measures for Reaver, let me tell you that.”
“Aren’t you at all concerned that anything you tell me might get back to your boss, with repercussions for you?” Goddard asked.
“Not really, I’m just the set-up guy. And Goddard, it has been a pleasure playing with you. So I’ll let you on a little secret as much as the boss hates your guts he seemingly cannot let go of his shall we say, obsession with you.”
Standish sighed. “Hell, if I know why? Are you in or out?”
“Huh? Oh, the game, right. I’m in, Pair of Kings over Twos.”
“Bets my hand,” Standish replied as he spread his own cards face up on the table. “You won. I in consideration of the stated rules of our hostess I shall not demand satisfaction.”
“That’s very decent of you,” Goddard replied.
“I do have my moments,” Standish stated as he got up from the table and reached over to extend a hand to other man.
“This game is concluded, not the real life one begins. I do hope you’re up to the challenge. Good luck, Sherriff Goddard. You’re going to need it.”
chapter 3 "All the Pretty Horses"
Summary:
Every so often the law catches a lucky break and Sheriff Seth Goddard is not above using that to his advantage, especially when he's after his old nemeis, the notorious outlaw, Reaver.
"All the Pretty Horses" by karrenia
The grassy plain was wide and provided a fantastic view all way to the distantly glimpsed horizon. Directly above the head of the riders could be glimpsed a mid-morning sky that was a blue dome only lightly dusted by scudding cumulus clouds.
Harlan Band leaned forward in his saddle in order to brush aside his horse’s mane for a better view.
Covering the open expanse at the edge of the tree-line was a flowing wave upon wave of wild horses; in all colors, from black, to pearl-white, brown and white, and speckled like the underside of a river pebble which he kept in saddle bag as a good luck charm. He drew in a deep breath and then did not breathe for another stretch of time as he admired their wildly beautiful grace and strength.
Riding at his immediate left Radu was absorbed in keeping the long ash-blond hair that had come out of the tight leather cord with which he had tried to restrain; but the speed of their ride had torn it loose, and it was not getting into his eyes. Finished with that task Radu also took a long glance at the milling herd of wild horses.
His blue eyes widened and het let out a low whistle. “That is. That is one of the most beautiful things that I have ever seen.”
Sherriff Seth Goddard who rode up just then nodded and sighed. “I know, gentlemen. And I have it on good authority that we will find our old foe Reaver somewhere up ahead. I don’t need to tell you, but I will anyway, be on the alert, and prepare for the unexpected.”
“Aye, Sir,” they replied.
Meanwhile Reaver and his aide, Ubi were occupied in arguing in how best to divide up the herd and get it to go in the direction that they wanted it to.
They had already spent the past hour and a half arguing over whose idea it was to have gone after such a massive herd in the first place. Arguably, to Reaver’s way of thinking in any case was the bigger the risk, the bigger the rewards.
He also knew that almost every rancher, cowboy, and outlaw in the territory and beyond would have given their right eye-teeth for a wild mustang for the right price. It was said that a wild horse was worth twice as much as the tame variety.
“I told you so!” Ubi grunted angrily.
“Well, how was I to know which was direction Otter Creek Trail lay when you gave directions that consisted when two hands of the sun lay over the tree-tops? I mean what kind of directions are those?” Reaver shouted.
“East, you colossal dunder-head, east, as anyone with half a brain would know,” Ubi retorted, in his mingled frustration and anger not above hurling insults at his boss.
While they were arguing neither had paid as much heed to their surroundings as they might otherwise have done had they been so caught up in their arguments.
They had also neglected to post sentries to watch the approaches to the plain, or placed a guard on the herd.
Goddard, at the head of posse could hear them from about fifty feet away, Radu could hear them from much further off what with his Andromedan hearing, but there really had no reason to put it to the test. Standish, while still a blackguard and a bit of irritating under Goddar’ds saddle, had true to his word.
Standish had given him enough information about where his boss could be found that they had not had much difficulty in locating the Mesa Verde grasslands.
Goddard was also well aware that Reaver tended to cheat and would have more than a few extra nasty surprises up his sleeve.
“Halt up,” Goddard ordered as were within hailing distance of the notorious outlaw, watching as he literally spit saliva so caught he was in arguing with the tele-morph, Ubi.
“What the hell is going on here?” Harlan asked, as usual the first offer his opinion of any given situation.
“From where I sit it looks that Reaver is doing half of our job for us,” replied Goddard with a tight little laugh and a tilt of his head. “Harlan you and Radu swing back around and try and round up the horses, if they are constrained in any fashion, set them free. “
“But…” Harlan began, his dusky skin flushing a light hue of red and his breathing becoming a little more agitated. “I want to help.”
“You can help by doing as I told you.”
Radu leaned over in his saddle and tapped Harlan on the shoulder. “We have our orders, let’s go.”
Harlan nodded and jerked on the reins of his own mount in order to turn it around.
**
Goddard dismounted and then tapped his waist to assure himself that his revolver was still at his side, and crossed the distance to where the pair of outlaws was staring proverbial daggers at each other.
“Hey, not that I want to ruin your gab-fest, but I’m here to tell that the sale of your herd of wild horses is about to fall through,” Goddard stated blandly, his arms folded over his chest. “Just thought you’d like to know.”
“What” Reaver screeched as his swiveled around on his heels nearly scrunching up several divots of churned up earth in the process. “Goddard!” He added in a menacing undertone. “I should have known! What have you down
with my horses?”
“Set them free, the way they should be. What else did you expect me to do with them?”
“We can still make a deal” Reaver replied.
“Sorry, no deal, and by the way, we’re down here. Have a nice day.”
