Yesterday, I posted a rough draft of this chapter.
Today I am posting the first narrative draft.
As you can see, this is the first step in the process in which a draft starts to look like an actual chapter.
As I have indicated elsewhere on this blog, there are still many steps to go through yet before this first draft becomes a finished draft, but this is where it stands for the moment.
At some point down the road, I will post subsequent drafts of this chapter. But don’t expect that to happen soon. I have another 30 chapters to write before I’m finished the first draft of this work.
98 – FOCUS (1st Narrative Draft)
A tough climb for the horses was made even tougher by overloaded wagons. Their goal today was Two Bears. Then rest, while their animals recovered, before moving on deeper into the mountains.
Two riders appeared ahead, their painted mounts carefully picking their way down the muddy trail toward them. Cooper scanned them cautiously as his steady team slowly closed the gap. Both men appeared to be hands. Since they carried no packs or saddlebags, he presumed they were from Two Bears.
The one named Chet escorted the lead wagon, engaging in friendly chat with Cooper and Molly, while the other disappeared into the column behind them. The owner of the trading post had seen them coming, Chet explained. The hands were sent to help.
Tin shingles were the first part of the outpost to rise into view. Next were blue granite walls. In a world of wooden buildings, stone walls and tin shingles suggested permanence and power. Trading posts were usually made of timber. If they weren’t, it was because they served an official purpose.
Was it a saloon? A residence? An inn? Or a courthouse? In remote places like this, Cooper understood, it might be all four. His question was answered as they crested the rise and a gallows came into view.
Arriving in the yard, Chet called in a few more hands, showed Cooper to the livery, then led him into the trading post to find its proprietor. The stone building was large and imposing. A veranda wrapped three sides; its roof served as the deck of a second-floor balcony.
It was clearly a residence and a trading post. It flew the flag of Eastbranch but displayed no company crest. As they climbed the two steps onto the veranda and passed through the open double doors, Cooper realized he was entering a saloon that doubled as a courthouse whenever the need arose.
Inside was a two-story supporting wall bisecting the building from front to back. On this side of the looming plank wall was a cavernous space serving as the saloon and trading post. The wall itself was punctuated by doorways at regular intervals on two levels. A wooden stairway connected the ground floor to a balustraded balcony and led to the rooms on the second floor.
To Cooper’s right, at ground level, a counter ran the length of the room. Part of it seemed to serve as a general store. The rest, as a bar for the saloon. To his left was a battalion of tables and chairs and a single grand fireplace. In its current arrangement, Cooper estimated, the room could seat nearly a hundred people.
At the moment, however, it hosted only a few scattered guests and a single active poker game. Beer, whiskey, and lantern smoke filled Cooper’s nose as their boots thumped toward the three men at the far end of the bar. “None for me,” said a voice from the poker table to several responding groans.
A young man sweeping the floor around the tables stepped aside to allow Cooper and Chet to pass. The two men behind the bar looked similar enough to be brothers, but could not have dressed more differently. One appeared every bit as a shop keeper. The other, a burly bearded lumberjack.
“Excuse me, Mr. Sewager,” Chet said to the shop keeper as they approached. “This here’s Cooper. He’s leading this wagontrain and he’d like a word with you, if you’ve got the time.”
The shopkeeper looked up from his coins, peered over his wire-rimmed spectacles, ran the tips of his fingers over both sides of his neatly trimmed moustache, and gestured to a spot at the bar in front of him. Chet moved deferentially to a seat on the perimeter.
“Cooper is it?” Sewarger asked, without offering his hand. “That a name or an occupation?”
“Both,” Cooper responded.
“Whiskey?” the bartender asked, setting an empty glass on the bar in front of him. Cooper nodded and Sewager poured the shot.
“We’re heading up country,” Cooper started. “Need to lay up a day or two. Rest the stock. Then we’ll be on our way.”
“You folks cash or credit?”
“We got cash, Mr. Sewager. Not looking for charity.”
“Wasn’t offering,” the barkeep said frankly. “Heading to Fleess?”
“No, sir,” Cooper explained. “We don’t intend to cross the glacier. Just looking for a place to set up camp for a spell.”
“Camp?” Sewager raised both eyebrows. “In the mountains?”
“Yes, sir. North of here. Don’t want to be no bother to you.”
“You planning to stay altogether? Or split up in pockets all up and down the trail.”
“We’d like to stay altogether, but we’ll split up if we have to.”
Sewager regarded Cooper with dead eyes. “Good for me then,” he muttered.
“Why’s that?” Cooper crossed his arms and frowned.
“Small groups,” Sewager said softly, looking past Cooper, presumably to the poker game behind him. “Easy prey,” he added absentmindedly.
Cooper’s nostrils flared. His hands moved to his hips.
“God damn,” somebody shouted from the poker table, turning every head in the room. Two of the poker players laughed. “I told you it was a full house,” the winner announced, sweeping a pile of coins toward him. A prospector pushed his chair back and stood up seething.
Cooper turned back just as a look passed between the bartender and the lumberjack. “You planning to prey on us, mister?” Copper asked, drawing himself up to his full, impressive height, while sensing that his words were getting lost in the moment.
“I need a god damn minute,” the prospector snapped at the poker table before stamping toward the bar and stopping next to Cooper.
“Gimme a shot, El.”
El regarded him suspiciously for a moment before setting up a glass and pouring the old man a shot. “Maybe tonight’s not your night, Eustace,” he said, putting the bottle down behind the counter.
“I’ll be alright,” the prospector insisted, throwing back the shot. “Just need one good god damn hand.”
As he pushed off the bar to go back to the table, El snagged him by the wrist and pulled him in close. “You know the rules,” El stated in a low warning tone.
“I know the god damn rules, El,” the prospector pulled away and weaved back to the table.
“I asked you a question, mister,” Cooper repeated, louder and with a bit more attitude.
The bartender was distracted and appeared not to hear him. He signaled Chet with a glance and Cooper watched the hand move in to flank the prospector. The bearded lumberjack stepped out from behind the bar and walked to a spot near Cooper, where he turned to lean back on the bar, eyes fixed calmly on the game.
Only then did El turn to regard Cooper with emotionless, unblinking eyes.
Cooper, larger than El by six or seven stone, instinctively changed his tone. “Seems like you’re making threats, Mr. Sewager.”
“It’s the heathens you need to be concerned about,” El stated simply. ”Small groups are easy prey.”
Copper shifted uncomfortably, wondering if he was misreading this situation. “So how’s that benefit you?”
“The stuff they take from you… they’ll bring it to me… to trade,” El explained, picking up his bar rag. “I’ll wipe the blood off and sell it to the next fools who camp around here when the savages are in a bad fucking mood.”
Copper’s hands slid from his waist into his pockets as El looked past him again. “So where would you suggest we camp?”
“If I were you, I would turn around. Long Lake Junction’s at the bottom of the hill you just climbed. Only place around here big enough for all of you.”
Copper shook his head slowly. “That’s not gonna work for us.”
“Why’s that?”
“Long Lake is occupied.”
“Occupied by whom?” El asked, lingering on the em, while pulling out a coil of rope and placing it gently on the bar next to the lumberjack. “Dun,” he said softly, catching the bearded man’s attention.
“People from Old Mill.”
“Old Mill have a fire or something?” El asked as Dun casually picked the coil up and moved toward the staircase.
“Insurrection,” said Cooper.
“They didn’t learn better last time?” His eyes widened and his head tipped forward, peering over his spectacles.
“Town council’s gone rogue,” Cooper explained.
“The entire council?” The question came with a subtle frown, but Cooper sensed he was telling the man nothing he didn’t already know.
“Most of them,” Cooper replied. “Led by the butcher’s wife. In league with a bunch of haffers.”
El’s head jerked and his eyebrows twitched, both ever so slightly. “What kind of haffers?”
“Bunch of dwarves. Some other little haffers. A couple of orcs.”
The bartender’s frown deepened another small degree. “You know for certain they’re all working together?” El’s eyes fixed firmly on Copper’s own. “I mean… Not just a coincidence… them all being in the same place at the same time.”
“No, sir,” Cooper testified. “Arrived together. Marched into town like a parade. Butcher’s wife gave a speech about it. Freed the slaves then chased the slave owners out of town.”
El leaned against the backbar and crossed his arms. His right hand stroked both sides of his moustache. “Butchers tend to work with elves,” he said a few beats later. “You didn’t mention any elves.”
“Oh there’s elves involved a’right,” Cooper leaned forward, resting both forearms on the bar. “A hunter, his daughter… and a healer. A human, too… one of them brotherhood types. Bounty hunters from the way they tell it.”
Swearing exploded from the poker table. A chair scraped on the wooden floor. Cooper turned to see the prospector standing, shouting at the man across the table. The other players were laughing at him. Chet stepped in quickly and put his hand on the prospector’s shoulder. “You’re drunk, Eustace” he said. “Either sit down and play cards or go home.”
Movement from above caught Cooper’s eye. Dun was slowly uncoiling his rope while looking over Cooper’s shoulder. Cooper turned and saw El looking back at him.
“Let me get this straight,” El said, returning his attention to Cooper. “The butcher’s people are opposed to slavery; they stayed in town. All the people favoring slavery went to Long Lake.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You went to Long Lake to join them, but the camp was too full?”
“No,” Copper corrected him.
“No?”
“No. We’re not with either side. We’re just trying to stay out of the way.”
“Ah,” exclaimed El, tipping his head back and opening his mouth. “So you’re recreants,” he added with a gleam of recognition in his eyes.
Cooper frowned and peered into the countertop. “I’ll be honest, Mr. Sewager, I don’t… I don’t know what that is.”
“Recreants,” El repeated. “Means you’re cowards.”
Cooper pushed off the bar and chested up. “I ain’t no coward.”
El’s eyes went dead for the second time. “Taking a tone with me ain’t gonna make your situation any better,” he calmly stated.
Cooper swallowed hard and balled his fists.
“Doesn’t matter what I think you are,” El continued. “Only thing that matters is what the governor thinks.”
Cooper drew a breath, clenched his teeth, and allowed it to hiss back out of his nose.
“Outlaws took your town,” El said, describing Cooper’s situation without a trace of sympathy in his voice. “You tucked tail and run. Recreants ain’t no better than insurrectionists, as far as the governor is concerned.”
Cooper hung his head.
“Now you’re standing here… me knowing what you done….” Here, El took a long pause, giving Cooper a moment to reflect. “Makes me just as guilty as you.”
“We don’t want to be no trouble, Mr. Sewager,” Cooper said honestly, licking his lips.
“Too late for that. You brought trouble with you.”
“We’re just trying to do the right thing,” Cooper turned his palms to face Sewager.
“Then get back to Old Mill and do what you’re s’posed to do. Or… go to Long Lake and hook up with your neighbours. Or… go north and get slaughtered by savages.”
Cooper felt his ears begin to burn. “We need to figure this out. We have money. We can pay rent.”
“I don’t want the stink of your cowardice on Two Bears –” El continued without a hint of mercy.
“Fuck you,” the prospector barked, becoming the center of attention yet again. But this time, he pulled a knife. And this time — nobody laughed.
Cooper turned to follow El’s glance just as a rope dropped from the second floor and looped the old man’s neck. A single yank lifted him off the ground causing his feet to swing wildly before his toes found purchase on the edge of his chair.
“Games over,” El bellowed, scattering the players and sending them scurrying out the door.
Cooper felt something break. He staggered weakly backward and slumped in a chair. His head fell into his hands. Confusion overwhelmed him. Loyalty mattered a great deal to him. How could he be loyal to the company and loyal to his friends?
El pulled a chair up and sat in it backward, his arms resting on the back. He looked the big man in the eyes. “You’re a cooper,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” Cooper removed his hands from his and sat back in his chair.
“You have a license?”
“I do.”
“Your license was signed by the governor,” Sewager explained. “That signature came with an expectation of loyalty to the company. When you accepted it, you entered into a partnership with the Company. Just like me with this place. Just like the governor when he took the job in the haff-land. You understand that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Partners get privileges. Our privileges depend on the company’s system,” El said. “No system. No privileges.”
“Yes, sir.”
“As far as the Company is concerned, there are only two sides here, cooper. The company’s side and the wrong side.”
Copper shook his head. “I didn’t make those rules, Mr. Sewager. I’m not going to enforce them. I’m not playing that game.”
“Game?” El sat back, surprised. “One side lives. The other side dies,” El turned his head and looked at Cooper with one eye. “You think this is a game?”
Cooper swallowed hard.
“You ain’t got but two options, cooper. Fight for the company or fight against it. Nobody’s giving you permission to create a third side.”
Cooper said nothing.
Sewager stood, spun his chair around, and pushed it back under the table he took it from. Then he walked over to the prospector who was struggling on his tiptoes, trying to keep the noose from tightening around his throat.
“God damn it, Eustace,” El shouted at him. “I warned you not to bring a god damned knife into my place again.”
“I’m sorry, El,” Eustace choked out the words, showering the air with spit.
El took a step forward and stopped directly in front him. Cooper held his breath as the bartender looked up into the prospector’s red face.
“You ever gonna bring a knife in my place again?” El demanded furiously.
“No,” the old man choked, struggling to maintain his precarious footing.
“You god damn right you won’t,” El agreed, kicking the chair backward and dropping the prospector with a jerk.
“You know about Southport, cooper?” El said, turning back to his previous conversation.
Cooper was wide-eyed at the man kicking at the end of the rope behind Sewarger, but he managed to get some words out. “I’ve heard.”
“Well maybe you didn’t hear it right. Governor’s own blood was put in charge of Southport. Made his little brother overseer.
“Not a month later, they found out people in Southport were helping haff-ra families escape across the bay to The Wood.
“Wasn’t the whole town. Just a few bad apples. Governor rounded the whole town up. Men, women, and children. Herded them into the church. Barred the doors. Torched it.
“The guilty burned. So did everyone else. Including his little brother.” El lowered his head and peered over his spectacles, stroking his moustache.
Copper’s head dropped. He looked at the toes of his boots. “I need time to figure this out,” was all he could say.
“We oughta break his neck, El,” Dun interjected. “It’s gonna take a while for him to die like this.”
“A dying man needs time to think,” El said coldly as Eustace’s face turned from purple to blue. “This lesson might do him good where he’s going.”
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