The Art of the Con

On the road to Cascade

The jingle of harness bells carried to the waiting men as the Gypsy caravan approached. The brightly painted wagons never stopped as they drew even with the riders. Demetri swung from his horse onto the seat of the first wagon. The preteen boy driving smiled warmly at Vin.

"This one is bonded already, Sergi." Demetri ruffled the dark curls. "Go tell your mother there are guests for supper."

"Sure," the boy hopped off the moving wagon and onto Demetri's patient horse. With a wave he thundered off down the road to deliver the message.

Chris frowned faintly looking after the boy.

"My grandson, Sergi. There is no reason for concern. He will not trespass," Demetri reassured Larabee.

"The Sentinel and his pack members should rest after their upset. Their heads are ringing," Sinjin suggested.

"Climb in the back, there are beds, food and water. Be welcome," the old guide offered.

"Sounds pretty good," Isaiah admitted.

"Go rest, we will take care of your horses. There are old friends to visit," Kojae ordered.

Sinjin waited until the rear of the wagon drew even with him before swinging around behind it. Leaning from the saddle he opened the door with the ease of long practice. "Rest I wake before Cascade reach, yes?"

"Thank you," Isaiah carefully shook his feet from the stirrups grasped a convenient grab bar, stepped onto the bumper and swung himself onto the moving wagon. Cautiously he shifted until he could enter the living quarters. Chris gingerly followed the preacher into the wagon. Vin swung onto the wagon gracefully.

"You make that look easy," Isaiah grumbled.

"Spent a lot of time on wagons like this before the UNPK took me," Vin answered softly. "Iffen you'll open tha windas. Ain't sure I kin go in there if it's closed up," Tanner admitted shakily.

Quickly Isaiah and Chris began to open windows. Sinjin and Chanu gathered the loose horses and rode off to the small herd following the caravan. Vin took a deep breath and ducked into the wagon. A faint smile greeted the scent of the familiar herbs. Iffen I ever have a place ta call mine it'll smell like this.

"Vin?" Chris asked concern in his eyes at Tanner's distracted manner.

//Home it smells like home.// Tanner 'said' shakily.

"Sit down," Tanner ordered. Vin shifted around comfortably in the swaying wagon snuffling first Isaiah then Chris. With seeming no regard to the Gypsy's privacy he opened cabinets and drawers before setting out items he wanted.

"Vin?" Chris asked uncomfortably.

"Different ways, Larabee. We's guests, these folks mean it," Vin answered distractedly.

Opening a small door that led to the front he poked his head out and spoke to Demetri in the other man's language for a moment. Leaving the door open he searched a cabinet over one of the beds pulling out a jar and sniffed the contents.

"Now let's getcha both cleaned up a might," Tanner mixed some of the bottle's contents in a bowl and added water. "Hold this," Vin pushed the bowl into Chris' hands. Using a cloth pad Vin carefully cleaned the broken skin over knot on Chris' skull. "Ain't bad," Tanner reassured his guide. Tossing out the mix and preparing fresh Tanner cleaned Sanchez's aching skull.

"Y'all want somethin' fer them headaches?" Vin asked quietly.

"Yes," Both men agreed.

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Several miles down the road Sinjin swung up onto the wagon seat beside his guide.

"They're sleeping?" the sentinel asked softly. Peeking through the open door he smiled faintly taking in the bonded pair snuggled together on Demetri's bed.

"Yes, the young one remembers our ways. He is . . . content. The other two are comfortable as long as the boy is," Demetri answered.

"This thing with the court . . . " Sinjin scowled.

"Change must begin somewhere. The boy is wise for all his youth," Demetri acknowledged.

"I sent Chanu and some of the others on ahead. They will look for those who would cage the falcon," Demetri growled.

"I noticed that you sent most of the wagons down the south trail," Demetri said.

"Most of the gifted children. It is not good to draw to much UNPK attention," Sinjin replied.

"Wise my brother. They will join us on the fair grounds?" Demeteri asked worriedly.

"Yes, by then we should have Vin situated," Sinjin agreed.

Cascade, Washington

Undisclosed hotel

"He charged five dollars just to haul us from the docks. It can't be more than half a mile," Nathaniel fumed as he gathered up his two bags and Chris' single bag off the boardwalk. Glaring after the freight wagon in disgust he turned to the hotel.

"Mistah Jackson, silence is golden. And it requires gold to purchase it upon occasion," Ezra drawled calmly.

"What?" Nate asked.

"We paid the man extra to keep his mouth shut about where he dropped us off," Buck growled. "What's Isaiah carrying in here anyway? This damn thing weighs a ton." Wilmington grunted when he picked up Sanchez's bag to add to his own.

"Is this the right place? It looks like a mansion or something," JW noted tilting his head back to take in the tall building.

"This is the correct location. I have stayed here on several occasions. Please get Mr. Tanner's bag while you're at it Mr. Dunne," Ezra directed.

"Oh yeah sure." JW leaned over and snagged the straps on the backpack containing Vin's things.

"Cedric, would you be so kind as to call a bellboy, please?" Ezra directed his words toward the uniformed man standing at the hotel's door.

"Certainly Mr. Simpson. May I say it's a pleasure to have you staying as a guest once more," Cedric Brooks smiled widely and held the door open wide for Ezra and his . . . acquaintances.

"Thank you, Cedric," Ezra regally entered the building trailed by the almost cowed lawmen. A bellboy hurriedly rushed out the door to acquire the abandoned luggage.

"Well shit," Buck snorted. "Why are we carrying and you get a bellboy?"

"Class has its privileges my good man," Ezra smirked and strode toward the desk.

Cascade Railway Yard

The UNPK agents relaxed slightly as the small cart turned into the freight area with only a single woman aboard. Backing the horse she proved to be at least conversant with managing a horse if not actually having a bit of skill. Once the cart was backed up to the platform she slipped to the ground and secured the horse. A lovely if worn purple dress with an out of fashion bonnet indicated she had most likely fallen on hard times.

"That's a fine looking woman and I always did have a thing for blonds," one of the UNPK agents said softly as they watched the woman climb the stairs.

"Ma'am this isn't the safest place for you to be today." The Captain greeted the woman.

"Ah saw all that crowd out front but Ah just had to come, mah darling boy had mah momma's trunk shipped here all the way from Georgia," The blond's fan fluttered in an agitated fashion. Her eyes widened as she noted the uniformed men. "Would you look at that?" She pointed her eyes filled with tears. "They left it setting out in the weather. Grandmere's lace tablecloth is in there and mah Momma's embroidered pilla slips. They'll be ruined if it rains and y'all know it always rains in Cascade." Her chin quivered as she tried to hold back the tears.

"No reason she can't get her trunk is there? I mean she's obviously not sneaking anyone in or out. That trunk was in the luggage car the last 75 miles with Capt. Corbin Stravinski," one of the agents reminded with a snicker. Grins were exchanged at the reminder of the arrogant Captain's comeuppance.

"Aw Cap it won't take a second to load it in her cart. It would be a real shame, a lady getting hurt over this mess today," another man spoke up.

"Come on Cap."

"Ma'am we're looking for an escaped hound . . ." the captain began.

"A HOUND!" the woman bleated and looked around wildly. Instinctively she shifted closer to the officer for protection laying a gloved hand on his arm. "Mah momma said they EAT people!"

"Now, now there's no need to be so frightened, Ma'am." The officer patted her hand comfortingly. "It's doubtful he's even in the area. No one's going to hurt you while I'm here."

"You're certain, officer?" she asked timidly tilting up her head so she could stare worshipfully at the much taller man.

"Oh mah, Ah do beg your pardon Suh. How forward of me," the woman blushed faintly and stepped back to a more socially acceptable distance. "Ah don't know what came over me."

"Completely understandable, Miss? I did give you rather a shock," the captain smiled down warmly.

"Simpson, Marie Simpson. If Ah might be so forward as to ask your name?"

"Captain Andre McCrutchon, Ma'am, your servant." Andre placed a soft kiss to the back of the offered hand.

"Why a gentleman as well as an officer." The woman relaxed slightly and drew her hand back after a slightly longer than proper pause. Her fan snapped open and she hid her face behind it as a soft flush coated her cheeks.

"Now about that trunk. Well I hate to impose on you Miss Simpson . . . "

"It's Misses Simpson, Ah'm a widow now." Tears clung to her lashes and her voice caught on a sob.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs. Simpson." McCrutchon began once more. Not dressed in widow's black so it's been over a year. I wonder if the lovely Marie might be interested in company?

"Your trunk is big enough a man could hide in it," McCrutchon said.

"Mah trunk?" the blond stared at her trunk in horror. "If anything has happened to mah Momma's things somebody's going to wish they were dead before Ah'm finished." Marie Simpson snarled and stalked over to the heavy chest. "The lock is still in place," she gave a sigh of relief.

Fiesty thing. The captain knelt down and tugged on the lock making certain it was still secure.

"Ah forgot just how big it is," Marie sighed. "However am Ah going to get it loaded?" She turned helplessly to her big strong protector.

"I'll have a couple of my men load it for you. That way you can get out of here quicker. Now you be sure and go out the back there so you don't get hurt by that mob out front," Andre suggested as he gently escorted her back to the cart.

"Adams, Clifton grab hold of that trunk and load it for the lady," Capt. McCrutchon ordered.

"Oh thank you boys ever so much. Why Ah had no idea the UNPK hired such fine gentlemen and you're all so handsome too," Marie gushed as the trunk was carefully loaded and secured in place.

"Now you drive careful, Mrs. Simpson. Folks are real stirred up I wouldn't want your horse to spook or anything," one of the agents said earnestly and tipped his hat before rejoining his fellows.

Capt. McCrutchon carefully handed Marie into the cart and handed her the reins. Smiling sweetly she chirped to the horse and trotted out of the freight yard.

The sergeant shifted his cigar from one side of his mouth to the other with a twitch of his lips.

"Rank has its privileges," McCrutchon growled.

"Yep, how you gonna find your temptress again?" the sarge asked curiously.

"Why I'll . . . I didn't get her address. Well it'll be on the freight manifest," the captain answered sheepishly.

"She didn't sign for that trunk," the grizzled sergeant smirked.

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Several blocks away the cart pulled up by the mounting block next to the farmer's market. A lovely red-haired woman placed a basket of fresh produce in the back of the cart next to the trunk. "I see you got the trunk. Did you have any trouble?" She asked as she joined her friend on the seat.

"Why certainly not, really my dear. It was hardly worthy of my God given talent," the blond smiled sweetly. "Why some very nice young men employed by the UNPK loaded it for me."

"Maude Standish, I swear you have more nerve than a stripper at a church picnic," Naomi Sandberg giggled.

"Does wearing only a garter belt under your choir robe count?" Maude smirked.

"You didn't?" Naomi gasped.

"Of course Ah did. Ah was in the middle of mah rebellious teens at the time," Maude snickered.