Clouding: Day 15

Word Total: 90,006

Year to Date: 600,050

Summary of Events:

Theresa and Mama finished their discussion about her treatment of Bennett with Mama telling her she needed to apologise whether she liked it or not. Asher watched the Apache depart before running Ashley's gelding through his paces and riding him to Tucson instead of Nizhoni, which he hoped would help him go unnoticed. Theresa couldn't sleep because of morbid dreams, and so got dressed and went out to the cemetery. Asher got up before dawn to get out of town . . . 

Excerpt of the Day:

Untying the reins, he passed them over the gelding's head and swung into the saddle.

He reversed the gelding straight back from the rail and then turned southward, letting the horse walk and wake up. The town was even more silent than it'd been when he'd come in after dark.

The gait the gelding used, as it was his leisure to pick the speed, was slow and plodding, carrying them out of town at a snail's pace.

Asher scanned the quiet surroundings. The town seemed eerily empty, as if it was supposed to look empty when it actually wasn't so that someone could jump out and attack him. He felt on edge.

Spying a figure in the cemetery, his pulse accelerated and he was almost tempted to goad the gelding into a gallop, but he didn't dare, lest he attract the attention of the person, who could well raise the alarm.

The figure turned and looked at him. There seemed to be shock, fright on the face. They recognised who he was. There was no other reason for the reaction.

Quickly he swung out of the saddle, briskly walked over to the cemetery, hopped the fence, and strode up to the individual, whom he quickly discovered to be a woman. Women were more shill in their screams than men.

Drawing a gun swiftly, he cocked it and put it to the side of her head.

"You don't run, you don't make a sound," he warned.

Her eyes were wide as saucers as she stared at him. She looked petrified.

Switching hands on the gun, he stepped around behind her and wrapped his arm around her neck before guiding her toward the gate.

She lifted the latch rather quietly, and then opened the gate wide, prompting it to squeal. He kneed her in the back of the leg.

"Quiet!" he hissed when she uttered a whimper.

He guided he to the gelding, who'd stopped and appeared to have settled down to doze in the middle of the street.

For a moment he was at a loss as to what he should do to keep her from screaming or running away, but then he got an idea and took out his knife. He drew up her overskirt and cut a long strip off her petticoats that he bound her wrists with. He then cut a shorter, thicker piece and gagged her with it.

Holding one of her arms, he swung into the saddle, and then kicked his foot out of the stirrup and used his other hand to haul her skirts up so she could get her foot in.

She obediently swung on behind him and let her arms be fed over his head.

Driving his spurs into the gelding's sides, he took off at a gallop. Now to head for Mesilla, and fast.

Due to a summer commitment the next post will be on September 1. Have a good summer everyone!

Clouding: Day 14

Word Count: 84,004

Summary of Events:

Mama started to talk to Theresa about her treatment of Bennett, but they were interrupted by the arrival of a bounty hunter whom they convinced that Bullseye and Asher were different people and that he should look for Bullseye. Asher and the Apaches continued to ride in silence and Asher made plans to secretly stop in Tucson once he parted ways with the Apache later that day before mentally bemoaning the lack of rainclouds in the sky . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

It wasn't really surprising that there wasn't much of anything for rainclouds around them, though. The rain really only started to come in November, which was somewhere about a month away.

He might have to ask someone what date it was when he went into Tucson just to be sure that November was only a month away. It'd been days from September when he'd last left a town, and that was San Diego a long time ago. By this time September had to be practically over and October right on their doorstep.

Even thinking of the word made him twinge. He'd been able to keep track of time by occasionally seeing or hearing the date, and he couldn't deny that he felt uncomfortable thinking that it was already October.

Having the month of his birth come and go hadn't been the biggest deal to him until this last year. Based on his memories he had, this last October, turned the age Mama had never seen the end of. The age that Mama remained.

This October, thus, he would officially outlive Mama, and he wasn't sure what he thought of that.

In some ways, he felt it was wrong for him to outlive Mama, but yet, in other ways, he hoped that she was glad — if she could be — that he had been able to get so far as to outlive her; that he had not met a fate similar to her own, whether by the same hands or not.

Still, though, could she really be glad? Considering that he had honestly failed her? He'd sworn to her as he'd clutched her cold hand that he would avenge her. That he would bide his time, that he would grow strong enough to deliver punishment and retribution to the man who had taken her from him.

Here he was, twenty years on — how twenty years had flown — more than strong enough to do what needed to be done and yet not having done it.

Guilt clawed at his breastbone. He hadn't been able to bring himself to do what needed to be done, and what needed to be done far more than anything else could ever have needed to be done, well, at least for him personally.

By this time the man who had taken Mama from him was assuredly old and feeble, likely to have his life claimed by time sooner than later, and yet he still could not hasten the end. He felt incapable of overpowering a man who would unquestionably be weaker than him and give himself the peace he needed, for assuredly he would feel at fullest rest once he accomplished that task.

Asher sighed. He didn't know what to do at all, but he figured that it was more than time to make his way to Santa Fe once all this business with Bullseye was done. He'd put off long enough what needed to be done.

Clouding: Day 13

Word Count: 78,039

Summary of Events:

Theresa was visited by Bennett and was more than a little upset by statements suggesting that he seemed to believe Mr. Peck's assertion that Asher was Bullseye, which prompted her to terminate their relationship. Asher and the Apaches who'd survived had all regrouped and one of them quite vehemently argued that they should kill people from Tucson in retribution for their men who had been killed. Theresa's oldest brother had come by — as the posse had returned to town following the chase — for breakfast and Theresa mistook him for her father before they sat down to breakfast and discussed things . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"I'd be interested in riding out to their camp and telling them that it's only certain corrupt men who fired at their men," Patrice said. "Unfortunately I have my doubts that I'd be all that well received. It would probably be a better idea to see what we can do to rid this town of Bartholomew Peck. It's taken far too little time for him to ruin everything Papa had created. He'd established something of a peace with the Apache, he'd intimidated crime, and he'd stood up for justice. Now we've killed Apache men, done nothing about crime, and randomly accused whoever we want to think is guilty purely on some of the flimsiest circumstantial evidence I've ever seen."

"I can't believe he was named sheriff without all the proper protocol being followed," Mama said.

"I bet it was waived because of the circumstances," Patrice replied.

"Bartholomew had the authority he needed as acting sheriff to do what needed to be done," Mama said.

"He wanted the position so that he could kill without question," Theresa said.

Mama sighed. "It's certainly looking more and more like that was the case."

"I could see him forcing himself into power by backwoods routes," Patrice said. "I can't say that I ever liked him. There was something arrogant about him always. How did Papa stand him?"

"Well," Mama replied. "I think Jeremy had hopes of being able to mentor Bartholomew longer so that he would be a better lawman. Unfortunately such is not the case."

Theresa's eyes blurred with tears she furiously dabbed away with Mama's handkerchief.

Patrice sighed. "I doubt Mr. Traynor will even listen to us."

"I think he might," Mama said. "After all, Jeremy was sheriff here for a decently long time. I think he would respect that, not to mention if we explain to him that the safety that Tucson enjoyed under Jeremy is in jeopardy and that Bartholomew is doing a generally poor job of getting things done as they ought to be done, I'm sure he'll listen."

"I fear you underestimate Bartholomew's influence," Patrice said.

"I don't think it's influence all that much," Mama replied. "I think it's just that people have been frustrated with the elusiveness of Bullseye so much that they're willing to believe any theory that anyone presents as to who Bullseye might be."

"Even the people of Tucson?" Patrice asked.

"I wouldn't see why not," Mama replied. "He's been a terror in these parts for longer than we've lived here. The fact that even their sheriff who was so committed to justice couldn't catch him somehow has to be frustrating."

"But did he ever really put a concentrated effort into it?" Patrice asked.

"I don't think that would be a concern of all that many people, even though he never did," Mama replied. "It doesn't matter if Bullseye was looked for or not. It matters whether he was caught or not."

"I guess so," Patrice said.

Clouding: Day 12

Word Count: 72,019

Excerpt of the Day:

The chief of the Apaches made Asher upset by trying to tell Asher he was too violent and needed to try being peaceable, prompting Asher to tell him that if he wanted peace he ought to shut his mouth. Theresa was upset at Mama for comments Mama had made about the future that had made Theresa uncomfortable, but Mama apologised and said they didn't ever have to talk about it again, which made Theresa grateful. Asher and the Apaches — whose chief remained silent, which Asher appreciated — were come upon by the posse from Tucson and immediately split up to make themselves more difficult to track down; while fleeing, Asher worried about being tracked down, no matter where he went . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

In the end, Peck would probably be forced to track him down, and by that time the trail would probably be washed away by a winter rain; too bad there wasn't an autumn rain lurking somewhere that would help him right about now by washing away his tracks — especially the ones that led to the  Apache camp.

Asher glanced under his arm again. The posse seemed to have scattered in several directions, likely seeking the Apaches who'd fled off to the sides.

In fact, Asher saw one of the riders heading for town hot on the tail of one of the Apaches. He hoped the Apache would make it out alive.

A gunshot rang out that sounded closer in many respects than the gunshots before had sounded, and he saw that the leader — probably Peck — was riding his horse at top speed with both hands on a rifle.

Peck was intent to kill him.

Asher's heart started pounding faster than the rhythm of Nizhoni's rapid gallop, a gallop that was starting to flag a little bit as she came to be weary of maintaining the high speed. 

Several more shots rang out. Asher then glanced under his arm and saw that Peck was attempting to reload his firearm with his horse flat out in a gallop.

He was tempted to whip Nizhoni around on a dime and charge the diminished posse, except for the fact that he was towing Ashley and his horse. If he were riding alone he would've done it without question, snatching the rifle out of Peck's hands and maybe even killing him with it, or one of his own pistols.

Having Ashley in tow, however, he couldn't do such a thing, so the question was: what could he do then?

He could turn left and head for Tucson; after all, practically every man in town looked to have been a part of the posse on his tail, surely the women wouldn't arm themselves and seek to take him out, and it wasn't like Apache men weren't headed in that direction, which could prove to be something of a distraction.

It certainly seemed the best option, seeing as all he could see everywhere else was wide open desert spotted with the occasional cactus.

Releasing the pressure of his left spur and bringing the rein against the right side of Nizhoni's neck, Asher hauled on the left rein on Ashley's horse and turned them in a tight left for Tucson while Peck continued to fumble with his rifle, which Asher saw him nearly drop.

Asher fixed his gaze ahead and realised that Tucson seemed nearer than he'd thought, but then as he looked at the buildings a little closer he realised that he was on track to run straight through someone's farmyard. He hoped the farmer wasn't home.

Clouding: Day 11

Word Count: 66,039

Summary of Events:

Theresa attended the funeral for the Hanington family and was distressed by the pastor's insinuation that there had been good in the death of her father and the Haningtons. Asher was unsure of whether he should take Ashley — who seemed to be getting sicker — to the doctor or not, and eventually decided against doing so. Theresa discussed her growing suspicions and dislike of Mr. Peck with Mama over tea, with Mama suggesting heritage had a role to play . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"Do you think Mr. Peck dislikes Papa as well?" Theresa asked. "Then he could have killed everyone whether he wanted to frame the Hunter or not."

"I don't know that he knew Jeremy's mixed heritage," Mama replied.

"How could he not?" Theresa asked. "No one else I've met, especially since we've come to Arizona, has Papa's fine, delicate facial features other than Patrice and myself."

"No one here is prejudiced against the French blood," Mama replied. "There is too little of it, and I assure you, Asher does not look French."

"But I thought Papa was French and English," Theresa said.

"Don't you remember the other word Theresa?" Mama asked.

Theresa thought hard. It had been something other than French. She distinctly recalled asking about it, and Papa had told her it was a French word that denoted him to be partially French and partially not.

"Métis," Theresia said when it finally came to her.

"And did not Jeremy explain that word to you?" Mama asked.

"He said it meant partially French," Theresa replied. "That Grandpapa was partially French."

"He did not tell you what the other part was?" Mama asked.

"Is that of significance?" Theresa asked.

"Yes, Métis are specifically people who are half French and half Native," Mama replied. "In the fur trading days Frenchmen known as courer du bois — runners of the wood — collected furs from the Native tribes in return for goods at forts across the continent, and some found themselves in love with young women from the tribes they interacted with, and so they married those women. Their children were the first Métis."

"You mean that the Hunter is partially Native?" Theresa asked.

"Jeremy suspected as much," Mama replied. "He didn't know for sure, but he could see some Native features that suggested it to be possible."

"Papa's are more hidden in the French then," Theresa said.

"Somewhat, yes," Mama replied. "Not to mention it was your great grandmother who was Native, and Grandpapa didn't marry a Native woman, nor did Jeremy."

"So effectively you're saying it's been diluted, making it harder to appear as a dominant feature," Theresa said.

"Yes," Mama replied.

"Wouldn't it be the same with the French?" Theresa asked.

"Obviously not," Mama replied. "Unless maybe the French dominated the Native. But I do believe Grandmama had a little French in her, which might help the French show through better."

"I haven't noticed Mr. Peck to be the sort to be cruel to Natives," Theresa said. "Not that I can say I've seen him with any either, I guess."

"Even if he hasn't interacted with them a lot, Bartholomew has kept an eye on any and all information regarding attacks of white settlers by Natives, especially the Apache around here," Mama replied. "And Jeremy many a time told me that he was troubled by Bartholomew's statements on those attacks, not just because Natives are a part of Jeremy's heritage, but because they, like all men, are created in the image of God."

Pronunciations:

Métis: mehtee

Courer: kohruhr

Bois: bwah

Clouding: Day 10

Word Count: 60,001

Summary of Events:

Asher was ordered by the Apache chief to take on sole care of Ashley, who was falling ill; Asher wasn't pleased with the idea, but acquiesced. Theresa and her mother watched with mild disdain as Mr. Peck — now officially sheriff of Tucson — led a larger posse in search of Asher. Asher and the Apache men were camped for the night when Asher got the sensation he was being watched; thankfully it was just Nizhoni . . . 

Excerpt of the Day:

Asher beckoned to her and stroked her soft chin. The idea of being watched — and watched from the west too — reminded him that there was the likelihood that it wasn't just all the fit and able men of Tucson that were after him.

Butler hadn't exactly sounded pleased when he'd taken off with Ashley, and he was pretty sure that Butler would've rallied his whole gang to go after them in an effort to get his son back, if not possibly kill Asher for having dared to take someone he hadn't offered for the taking — especially if Butler were to find him now, being down two of his fingers.

The fact that he'd heard nothing about Butler's men, especially at this point, was actually something Asher had forgotten about. He'd thought that Butler would have set out after them on the day that he'd taken Ashley, but when they'd not caught up with him, they'd slipped his mind. 

After all, Ashley was Butler's oldest son if he wasn't mistaken; therefore, Ashley was heir to Butler's entire fortune, and probably Butler's most beloved son — although Asher was pretty sure Butler had more than one son, he had something like six kids counting Ashley.

Although Butler was a crook, Asher could see him being dedicated to his children, or, at least, to his sons, whom he would want to carry on robbing banks after him and hopefully succeeding in evading capture.

Too, Butler might be suspicious that Asher would lead people bent on bringing in his outfit to their hideout and prevent him from ever robbing again — on top of taking all of his illicitly-acquired money from his possession.

It was something Asher planned on doing when he'd succeeded in catching Bullseye, especially if he were allowed by the people he brought to round up the Butler Whitney outfit to take the five thousand dollar reward Butler had promised to him out of the money they would likely return to banks across the west if they were able to.

Butler wasn't necessarily the best tracker, though, and the deluge of rain would have washed away any and all hope Butler might've had of tracking them down that way, not to mention Butler wasn't exactly going to walk right into a place like Tucson looking for people. He knew he was wanted, he'd likely go to Mesilla like any other crook would.

In fact, Butler could well be at Mesilla now, maybe even rallying up a posse of crooks and criminals to hunt Asher down and get Ashley back.

Asher sighed. It sure hadn't taken all that much for the Hunter to turn into the Hunted. He only hoped that he could evade all those hunting him and succeed in hunting down and catching his own prey, which he could then show to everyone and prompt them to back off — or, at least a man could hope, but with how convinced Peck was, he didn't know if that would work.

Pronunciation:

Mesilla: mehseeah

Clouding: Day 9

Word Count: 54,020

Summary of Events:

Asher decided to get the Apaches who helped him with his arm in on the plan to draw out Bullseye and informed them of his plan, which they readily agreed to. Theresa attended her father's funeral and grieved even more than she'd grieved before. Asher and the Apaches set out to canvass the area for signs of Bullseye as the first part of putting their plan into action. Theresa's struggle with the possible good in her father's death renewed, she and her mother discussed it further, with Theresa wishing God could give her an answer . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"Can't He explain it out of courtesy?" Theresa asked.

"It wouldn't grow your faith," Mama replied. "It wouldn't grow your trust to have all the answers now, to have an explanation."

"Why do I have to grow in faith?" Theresa asked.

"You know a child must grow," Mama replied. "An infant, for example, they must be able to accept that there are times when their parents will not help them get something they desire, forcing them to either do without it, or work on developing the skills they need to get there on their own. If a parent carries their child everywhere and gives their child everything, when will that child learn to walk? When will that child learn to fend for themselves?"

"Never," Theresa replied.

"Not likely, no," Mama agreed. "God is our heavenly Father. He does not always give us the answers because He knows that we will be better off not knowing, because not knowing the answers will prompt us to trust that He's doing the right thing, and to make the changes we may need to make that having the answers would prevent us from making. It's not a perfect analogy, but it's a decent one. We are to walk by faith, not by sight."

"I don't need to see the answers," Theresa said. "I just need to know them."

"You do not need to Theresa," Mama said. "Although I could postulate that you are getting an answer."

"How?" Theresa asked.

"Maybe one of the reasons that Jeremy has been taken from us is so that you would learn to trust God more," Mama replied. "That's not to say it was only for the sake of your trust's growth that Jeremy died and that if you would've already trusted God more he wouldn't have been killed, but maybe that is something that God intends to bring out of this for you personally."

Theresa didn't know what to say. How could she possibly trust God more when He'd taken her father away from her? It certainly seemed like He'd taken away all the reasons why she ought to trust in Him by taking Papa away, and now trust was what He wanted?

"It is an idea at least," Mama said. "And I think it is a meritorious idea. It is easy to trust God when things are going well and good, and that is almost always what you've known."

"He took away our house in Wisconsin," Theresa said.

"Yes," Mama agreed. "He did, and we lost many precious things. But things are not quite the same as people. You have never lost a dearly beloved one, much less a dearly beloved one who certainly seemed to have much more left in their life to see and do. There may be something in the future yet which prompted God to give you this test, that you might be strengthened and prepared possibly for a worse trial yet to come."

Clouding: Day 8

Word Count: 48,002

Summary of Events:

Asher packed up Ashley and set off in the direction he recalled the tracks having gone, although even if he wasn't following them he had full intentions of getting away from Tucson. The pastor came by to discuss the argument Theresa's mother and his wife had gotten into, but gave no indication of what he was going to do about it. Asher encountered some Apaches and appealed to them for help with his arm, which was getting really sore. The deputy came by to give Theresa's mother an update that Theresa felt deliberately put Asher in a negative light; her mother refused to believe what the deputy told her . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Mr. Peck shook his head. "I have given you the truth, and it is a truth you are going to have to accept no matter how much it does not reconcile with what you wish to be true."

Mama looked at Mr. Peck with a measure of defiance. "I do not believe Jeremy would be pleased with this."

"He would be pleased," Mr. Peck said. "For it is the truth."

"You, who have known Jeremy only for some eight years think you can tell me what would please a man to whom I was wed for three decades?" Mama asked.

"Mrs. Rose, you are being delusional," Mr. Peck replied. "The sudden and tragic loss of your husband has taken its toll on you, and it has prompted you to lose control of your senses. I will not trouble you with any further developments on the investigation until I believe your mind has regained soundness enough to understand the truth."

"Good," Mama said. "I should not like to see you in my home again Bartholomew. I am sure you are well able to show yourself out."

"My condolences Mrs. Rose," Mr. Peck said.

Mama nodded and Theresa watched silently as Mr. Peck got to his feet and left the house rather briskly.

"What if he did it?" Theresa asked.

"Whatever do you mean Theresa?" Mama asked.

"What if everyone was fine when he went out there to check on things and he shot them all to make it look like Bullseye had done it, and he did it like that because he'd seen evidence of the Hunter passing nearby, and planned to pin it all on the Hunter because he doesn't like the Hunter and doesn't like how Papa was willing to give the Hunter the benefit of the doubt?" Theresa asked.

Mama silently turned her gaze toward the door Mr. Peck had just departed through. She remained silently gazing toward the door for a long time before turning and looking at Theresa.

"I don't know that I can reconcile that either," she finally replied. "Jeremy would assuredly have been able to tell if Bartholomew were capable of murder."

"Papa wasn't perfect Mama," Theresa said.

"He'd never misjudged anyone," Mama replied. "He could tell who might actually go so far as to murder, and who might just be jealous. He never said he was suspicious that Bartholomew would actually commit murder. I am convinced the killer is Bullseye."

"Isn't it a believable theory though Mama?" Theresa asked.

"I cannot lie, it is a believable theory," Mama replied. "And in all truth, any of the present theories could be proven by further investigation. Each have their merit, but I pray God shows us through diligent search which one is, indeed, the true set of circumstances."

Clouding: Day 7

Word Count: 42,075

Summary of Events:

Theresa's mother and the pastor's wife got into a heated argument over the sovereignty of God while the pastor's wife and some other women were over to offer comfort. Asher went over to where the murders had happened and found the bodies, which reviled him; he pilfered supplies from the house before fleeing back to the mountains as a thunderstorm broke. Theresa's brothers and brothers-in-law had all spent the night due to the thunderstorm and, naturally, gave a report of the developments . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"And what did you learn?" Luc asked.

"Constance, Emmaline, and Velma were, were moved after they were killed," Alfred replied.

"By the killer?" Mama asked.

"I'd think so," Alfred replied.

"He violated them," Patrice said bluntly, staring blankly at the steaming mug in his hands.

"How horrible," Mama gasped.

Everyone around the table nodded.

Theresa shuddered. It was depraved enough for a man to violate a woman while she was living, but when she was dead? That was an entirely different plane of depravity.

"From what we can gather Jeremy was killed first," Clyde said. "Then Clem, then Wilford and Isaac, Maybelle and Dorothea, Angus, Patsy and Sterling, then Velma, Emmaline, and Constance."

"How horrible," Mama repeated.

"It looks like Papa and Clem heard something," Patrice said. "They went out to investigate and were shot, hearing the shots, Willie and Isaac came out with the rifle and were shot."

"Papa had drawn his gun, but he didn't likely fire it," Joel added.

"Maybelle, holding Dorothea, came to the door to see what had happened and they both were shot," Patrice went on. "Patsy and Sterling were hiding under the table, they got shot there."

"From the looks of things Angus may've been with them and rushed out to his mother when she fell," Alfred added.

"The three girls were washing dishes when they got shot," Clyde finished.

"That's unspeakable," Mama said.

"I don't think I need to ever join the military," Isaiah said. "I don't ever want to see that again."

Mama put her hands gently on Isaiah and Joel's shoulders. She looked tortured to think her sons had even witnessed such carnage.

"Without a doubt they were killed by Bullseye," Patrice said, looking up at Mama. "One bullet in each, right through the heart."

"And with the rain now all his tracks are gone," Mama said.

"We followed them for a ways," Patrice said.

"Then we ran into the Hunter already on the trail," Isaiah said.

"He's in the area?" Luc asked.

"Apparently," Isaiah replied.

"That's good," Mama said. "What had he found?"

"Bartholomew never asked," Clyde replied.

"Why not?" Mama asked.

"Bartholomew thinks the Hunter is Bullseye," Patrice replied, looking at Mama soberly.

"Heaven forbid," Mama said, looking appalled.

"If you really think abut it," Benjamin said. "It does make a brilliant cover: play the part of the best bounty hunter in the West to disguise your real role as the most feared killer in the West."

"He does bring in all his crooks dead," Alfred added.

"Not to mention he's yet to bring Bullseye in," Clyde said.

"Nor does anyone actually even know what Bullseye looks like," Isaiah added.

"I cannot reconcile it," Mama stated emphatically.

"Why not?" Benjamin asked.

"Not with what Jeremy said," Mama replied. "I trust no one's judgement of a man more than I trust Jeremy's."

Clouding: Day 6

Word Count: 36,103

Summary of Events:

Asher, after some trouble, found tracks leading away from the rocks showing where the person who'd been there before him had gone. Theresa and her mother discussed how her mother could possibly be at peace with everything that had happened. Asher followed the tracks and found a creek, where he watered himself and his horse before watching the approach of a group of some thirty men, led by Deputy Bartholomew Peck of Tucson . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Peck reined his horse in despite the horse's head-tossing protests — which stopped upon the horse's notice of Nizhoni; they reached noses close together for a few moments before Nizhoni pinned her ears back and squealed, prompting him and Peck to both check their horses.

"This is a surprise," Peck said.

"Not really," he replied.

Peck raised his light eyebrows up to nearly disappear into his hat. "Does nothing surprise the Hunter?"

"Not really," he replied.

"You're not surprised that you were going to get caught eventually?" Peck asked.

"Caught?" he asked.

"Now you're going to play dumb are you?" Peck asked.

"No," he replied. "I'm going to be genuinely confused and lack understanding as to what you're talking about."

"I don't think you really are," Peck said. "You know where Jeremy Rose is."

He surveyed the group. He identified two men — one looking more about his age, the other looking much younger — as looking like Jeremy Rose, but neither was him; Jeremy was older.

"Not seeing him here, I would presume some sort of ill has befallen the man," he replied.

"Jeremy Rose is dead," Peck replied. "In fact, he and a family of eleven, down to the little one-year-old girl are dead."

"By whose hand?" he asked, astonished.

Peck smirked. "Really?"

"Answer my question," he replied, annoyed. He didn't like what Peck was playing at.

"Yours," Peck replied.

"Not on your life," he replied.

"Yes," Peck replied. "You, Asher . . . the Hunter, because apparently you are devoid of a surname, are under arrest for the murder of Jeremy Rose and the entire Hanington family."

He swore. "That's complete and utter lies. I have done nothing. I would not harm children, and I would not shoot a lawman."

"Even if you were caught rustling cattle?" Peck asked.

"Do I look like I have the means to rustle cattle?" he asked.

"You're without your saddle," Peck replied. "Hiding evidence."

"I guess I am surprised," he said.

"Oh, and what surprises you?" Peck asked.

"The fact that I would be accused of murder by the deputy of the esteemed Jeremy Rose, of all people," he replied. "Jeremy was all about evidence, about facts, about proving things in a court of law. He didn't just nab the first person he found, he wanted to nab the right one. If he were here I could give him some valuable information about who he might actually be looking for."

"We'll see about that," Peck said. "You're coming with us."

"No," he replied. "I am innocent, regardless of whether you like me or that fact or not."

Peck snaked his hand out, an open cuff held in it, ready to close around Asher's wrist.

"Ha!" he shouted, driving his spurs into Nizhoni's sides, seizing fistfuls of mane in both hands.

Immediately she took off at top speed, heading northward along the creek before he pulled her north-northwest and toward the mountains.

Pronunciation:

Nizhoni: nihzhohknee

Clouding: Day 5

Word Count: 30,025

Summary of Events:

Theresa's mother was altering a black dress she had to fit Theresa better and the two of them had a discussion about what could possibly be the purpose of the murders. Asher was quite curious as to who had occupied the cave before him and started looking around for clues; those he found suggested  the person had committed a crime in nearby Tucson. Bennett had brought over some food his aunt had prepared and sat with Theresa after supper; they had a bit of discussion about the demise of her father and how it might affect their future together, among other things . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"How can I live without Papa?" Theresa asked.

Bennett sighed. "I wish I had answers, but I don't Theresa, I'm sorry, I really am."

Theresa put the handkerchief over her face and sobbed.

"I'm sure you'll find a way," Bennett said. "Somehow."

She had her doubts. Even though Mama seemed so completely and thoroughly at peace with the fact that Papa was gone, she didn't know how Mama could be so accepting of it. Surely Mama was just in shock at the loss; maybe she was even trying to deny it because she hadn't seen Papa's body yet and confirmed that he was actually dead like she'd been told.

The fact that Mama had such a resolve to be at peace even made Theresa somewhat upset now that she really thought about it. How could Mama be married thirty years to Papa and then not even feel inclined to miss him when he was gone? It was impossible.

Yes, Papa had always been occupied by taking car of the farm — both here and in Wisconsin before they'd moved — and then later by taking care of Tucson, but he hadn't been altogether absent; in fact, for all his busyness, Papa had been incredibly present.

He'd always had time to tell them a story, take them along, teach them, admonish them, encourage them. Even without seeing the physical proof that Papa was gone — a proof she didn't really want to see, to be honest — Theresa could feel his absence acutely.

Surely Mama ought to be feeling his absence doubly more, being as she had spent far more time with papa, having known him for far longer than Theresa herself had, and yet Mama seemed unable to miss Papa.

"Theresa," Bennett said, breaking into her thoughts. "Did you hear me?"

"What did you say?" Theresa asked.

"I wouldn't ask you to get married this year," Bennett replied. "I never had plans of doing that originally, but I will marry you, even if you can't bring yourself to be happy on our wedding day because you miss your father so much."

Theresa nodded, dabbing more tears from her eyes.

"I do plan on marrying you soon, though," Bennett said. "After all, if we were to wait too much longer you'd be considered an old maid."

At this point, Theresa didn't really care how old she was when she got married. If she were to get married in two or three years wouldn't bother her, in fact, she was now questioning her desire to be married; had it been the right thing? Or ought she live alone for the rest of her days? She wouldn't want to upset Bennett by being inconsolable on their wedding day.

She'd always dreamed of her wedding day being the happiest day of her life, but she didn't know that it could be that way with this tragedy. She might be able to have moments without crying now, but to ever be happy again? That was surely near-impossible.

Clouding: Day 4

Word Count: 24,028

Summary of Events:

Asher was getting ready to set out for another day when his captive kicked him in the face, so he enforced some retribution before they set out. The deputy visited to see if Theresa's father had sent any word home before setting out to see why they hadn't heard from him recently. Asher enjoyed the quiet as his captive had actually fallen asleep, although he wondered if he'd been wise in his choice to kidnap. Theresa and her family were informed by the deputy that her father, as well as all eleven members of the family he'd gone to check on — down to the one year old little girl — had been murdered. Asher had found a cave to spend the night in, although it had bones in it, so he went in to check and see if it was a carnivore's den before he decided to sleep in it . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

They were dry and rough to the touch, suggesting that they were old bones which had been there for awhile, besides, there was no residual meat or other material on them, it was just the straight-up bones.

Thus, if these had been placed by carnivores, they were carnivores that no longer haunted this cave. Too, it wasn't like he could smell any excrement that could suggest a recent occupation of the cave by animals.

Needless to say, it would be a suitable place to spend the night.

He turned around to go back out and stopped. Closer to the front of the cave was a pile he hadn't noticed before. There was a black ring-sort of shape, white ashes, and the black rounded-square shapes that all wood burned into before it became ash, some even still in segments that hadn't been weakened enough at the narrow points to fall apart.

Someone had slept here before. In fact, he would think the stay had been decently recent, as any wind coming from a southerly direction would assuredly sweep into the cave and circle, which would stir up the ashes and even whip them away into the air, maybe even to mingle with the sand.

Making his way out of the cave, he found that Nizhoni and Ashley's horse — with Ashley still slumbering on it — had wandered away a fair bit.

He whistled. Nizhoni lifted her head and looked at him, revealing something on the ground close to her.

Heading toward her, he discovered that it was a pile of horse droppings, and they weren't fresh because they weren't shiny; in fact, they'd probably been there for awhile, considering that they were crawling with the small flies that typically only sought after such things once they'd sat for awhile.

Whoever had recently camped in the cave had been riding a horse, and it was a horse who, like his own, was dining almost exclusively on sagebrush, as evidenced by the colour and texture.

Too, the droppings and the presence of the flies suggested that the camper had been there within the last week, maybe even within the last two days.

Who was it? That he wasn't sure he'd be able to find out.

He hadn't seen any tracks while heading up here, and he hadn't been following any. Not to mention it was notoriously difficult to get a bead on what had travelled the rocks, forget what direction it'd gone.

The best he could do was see what he could find for tracks leaving the rocks without himself leaving the rocks and seeing whether any were horse tracks. If he found anything then he could follow the tracks and see where they led.

That, of course, would have to wait until morning; already the sun was below the horizon, it would be much better to search when he knew he'd have a lot more light before darkness came around again.

Clouding: Day 3

Word Count: 18,038

Summary of Events:

Asher continued on his trek eastward, getting into a lengthy argument with his captive until he threatened the boy into silence. Theresa was helping her mother bake pies when her father came home to get his bedroll because he was going on an overnight investigation of cattle rustling claims. Asher decided to stop for the night and left his captive to starve when his captive refused the food that he offered. Theresa was feeling incredibly worried about her father's safety when her boyfriend came over for a visit . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"Your fears are unfounded," Bennett said. "I promise you that. Jeremy is a fine sheriff, and he knows well how to take care of himself. After all, he kept his whole family safe since your oldest sister was born."

"Esther," Theresa said.

"I thought she was the oldest, I wasn't sure," Bennett said. "I'll have to work on getting your siblings all straight. Stephen's the youngest, isn't he?"

"Stephen is Esther's oldest," Theresa replied.

"Oh," Bennett said. "At least there was a Stephen. Aunt Winnifred is convinced I have a brother named Waldo. None of Father's brothers are Waldos, nor any of his sisters' husbands, nor any of my cousins, nor even Father's great nephews, so we have no idea where she got that from. Uncle Malachi says there's not even any Waldos on her side of the family either. We still haven't been able to prove to her that there's no one named Waldo in our family."

Theresa dabbed at her eyes. Ordinarily she would've laughed at Bennett's tale. She knew Winnifred Colvin to be an unobservant woman. She wasn't unintelligent, but she wasn't good at paying attention to things; thankfully her inattentiveness had only led to mirth from what Theresa knew.

"Oh Theresa," Bennett said, putting his hand back on her shoulders. "I'd ride out to go be sure Jeremy is okay if I knew where I was going, but I'm afraid I'm rather hopeless beyond the confines of Tucson, surely I can convince you he's alright, and if he isn't, I would be the man to change that."

"Only if he's injured," Theresa said.

"You don't mean to say you think he's going to die, do you?" Bennett asked.

Theresa nodded.

Bennett slid his hand all the way across her shoulders and pulled her toward him. "That, I assure you, is complete and utter nonsense. It's not like he's going out alone. There are people that live out there, aren't there?"

"He's going to the Hanington's," Theresa replied. "Mr. and Mrs. Hanington's two oldest children are sons, they're right around Luc's age."

"See?" Bennett said. "There's three other men there to back him up if he needs to face down any criminals. There's nothing to worry about."

"Luc's only sixteen," Theresa said.

"Well they're grown up enough to be good shots," Bennett said.

Theresa sniffled. "But they're just boys."

"I don't think your father's going to have to face down anyone that terribly nefarious," Bennett said. "Where is this fear coming from? Were there some other cattle rustlers that nearly killed him?"

"No," Theresa replied, shaking her head. "I don't know why I'm so scared."

Bennett sighed and leaned his head gently against hers. "I promise you he'll be fine Theresa."

And heaven only knew she desperately hoped the same, despite the doubt and fear that so oppressed her.

Clouding: Day 2

Word Count: 12,019

Summary of Events:

Asher discovered he'd been kidnapped by Butler Whitney, a notorious bank robber, who offered him a handsome reward to kill the notorious killer Bullseye, who had killed Butler's brother; not trusting Butler, Asher kidnapped Butler's son to guarantee he'd get the money he was promised. Theresa had tea with the doctor's nephew. As evening neared, Asher continued riding, wanting to put as much distance between himself and the Whitney gang as possible . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

The boy moaned. He glanced over as the boy rolled his head and tried to pull his hands free of the leather that tied them to the saddle horn to stretch.

After a few moments the boy opened his eyes and looked around in all directions. It took him some time before he settled his gaze on the spotted horse beside him.

"Who are you?" the boy asked.

"Who do you think?" he asked.

"An enemy of Butler," the boy replied.

"Isn't Butler your father?" he asked.

"He says we're supposed to call him Butler like everyone else does," the boy replied. "You're an enemy of Butler aren't you?"

"He's more an enemy of me than I of him," he replied.

"Why'd you take me?" the boy asked.

"To guarantee your father will pay me what he's promised he will for doing what I fully intended to do without him commanding me to," he replied.

"What does that mean?" the boy asked.

"Your father wants me to kill the notorious Bullseye," he replied. "I had full intentions of killing Bullseye myself, however, your father has promised me a good quantity of money for when I achieve the task, and I'd like to get that money from him. I don't trust your father, though, so I've taken you to make sure your father pays me what he's said he'll pay me."

"Don't we need to stop and make camp now, before it gets dark?" the boy asked.

"No," he replied. "We're riding all night."

"Why?" the boy asked.

"To put as much distance between us and your father as possible," he replied.

"I don't want to ride all night," the boy complained.

"And I don't care what you want," he replied.

"Butler will come and kill you dead for doing this," the boy said.

"Because there is the possibility that he could, just maybe, kill me alive," he said dryly.

"Butler!" the boy shouted. "Butler help me! Help me! The mean enemy is going to kill me!"

"Quiet," he ordered.

"Butler!" the boy shouted. "Butler shoot him!"

Brandishing a gun, he deftly brought the butt into contact with the base of the boy's skull and the boy immediately slumped over in his saddle and groaned.

Aside from the fall of the horses' hooves all was silent again, and he couldn't complain, he'd much rather silence than noise whenever he could. Butler's son was going to be nothing short of a pain in the neck unless he could find some way to keep the boy sleeping. Maybe he could stop in at a town somewhere and get some laudanum to keep the boy quiet.

Clouding: Day 1

Word Count: 6,012

Summary of Events:

Asher headed for New Mexico Territory, where he'd been summoned to by a sheriff there. As he camped for the night, though, his mare nickered, which she only did around other horses. The next morning he discovered tracks of someone who appeared to have just ridden up, looked at him, and headed back where they'd come from. He decided to follow the tracks until they got washed away in a thunderstorm that left him hard-pressed to find a place to sleep for the night. Somewhere during the night he recalled being tied, but was knocked unconscious before too long . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

A dull ache throbbed across the base of his skull. He laid with his eyes closed for a few moments before opening them and taking in the first thing he saw: an adobe roof.

He was indoors. How could he be indoors? He hadn't seen any buildings since he'd left San Diego days ago.

Tossing his head from side to side in annoyance at the throbbing, he realised that he was in a bed in a building that had one window and one door, and no furnishings aside from the bed on which he lay. His curiosity about just where he happened to be prompted him to forget his pain somewhat and try to get a view out of the window.

When he made that attempt, however, he discovered that he was tied to the bed, and that his boots had been removed.

Worse yet, his holsters were empty, and because his hands were tied to the head of the bed there was no way he was going to be able to get a hand on his jackknife.

He remembered the hands, the cold ring, the blow. Someone had grabbed him from where he'd slept. But where was this place they'd taken him to? How had he gotten here? Who where they and why did they want him?

Grabbing hold of the ropes that extended from his wrists to the bed, he gave them several hard jerks trying to get them to release, but to no avail, all he did was make the metal bed rattle.

In moments a man surged into the room, gun drawn and cocked. The man relaxed when he saw that the ropes still held, but he said nothing.

The face of the man looked familiar to him. He knew it from somewhere, but he wasn't putting his finger on it. Who was this man? Was he on a wanted poster somewhere?

"Where am I?" he asked.

The man smiled and holstered his gun, but gave no response, he merely walked out of the room and spoke in hushed tones the door easily muffled when he was safely on the other side.

He loathed being ignored by those who could respond to him but chose not to. He jerked on the ropes again and the man reappeared.

"Are you going to answer my question?" he asked.

"The boss will," the man replied.

"And who's the boss?" he asked.

"Don't play dumb, you know who he is," the man replied.

"I'll be the judge of that," he retorted.

In moments another man came into the room and they untied his bindings.

Immediately he surged up from the bed only to be greeted with a gun barrel to the breastbone.

"You'll come quietly," the man who'd spoken before said firmly.

The two men seized his upper arms tightly and guided him toward the door. He could only begin to wonder where he'd been taken.

May Novel Essential Information

Novel Title: Clouding

Time Setting: 1872

Genre: Historical Fiction

Minimum Word Goal: 90,000

Timespan: September

Location: Tucson, Arizona Territory

Main Characters: Asher Kingston, Theresa Rose

Background Information:

Asher was born the only child of an alcoholic ex-soldier and a white-raised Navajo woman, and he was their only child because of his father's many liquor-induced rages, during which his father would beat his mother; including when she was expecting their second child, which forced her to miscarry and end up being rendered sterile.

When he was seven his father took the family west to California to seek gold, which he spent on liquor when he found it, although he found little.

As a result of his difficulty finding much gold, Asher's father took to robbing the homes of nearby prospectors for their gold, and would get drunk on the liquor he purchased with his ill-gotten gains.

One night, in a rage by liquor bought with stolen gold, his father beat his mother to death. When his father sobered up, he thought someone else had broken in and murdered his wife, and thus killed nearby prospectors and absorbed their claims in revenge and a hunt for more gold.

Eventually the nearest sheriff decided to take action against him, so Asher's father packed Asher up and fled back to Santa Fe — where they'd come to California from — and, without his mother, it became Asher's place to be beaten by his father in drunken rages.

At fifteen Asher decided he'd had enough of his father's abuses and ran away from home, first heading back to California to visit his mother's grave.

On the way there he encountered a man who was leading a sizeable herd of horses, but thought nothing of it until he woke up the next morning horseless.

Infuriated, Asher tracked the man down on foot and killed him before leading the herd of horses to the nearest town, where he was paid handsomely for catching one of the most notorious horse thieves in the area.

The reward intrigued Asher, prompting him to decide to track down other wanted criminals to get paid the rewards placed on their heads. This led to his current reputation as being one of the most renowned bounty hunters west of the Mississippi because he always gets his man.

Adding to his iconic image is his horse, a black leopard Appaloosa mare whom he was given by the Nez Perce when his previous horse had died in a blizzard and he himself had nearly frozen to death. As few white people have ever seen such a horse, she is an immediate attention-getter.

With her, Asher wanders the west hunting criminals and cashing in on rewards while the legend of the Hunter — as many people call him, and so frequently so that some people believe it's his name — continues to grow.

Born the sixth of eight children to her parents, who farmed in southern Wisconsin — where her father had also been born and raised — Theresa lived a pleasant childhood there for her first nine years.

When she was nine, a neighbouring house caught fire and the flames spread to her family's home, claiming the entire building.

Prompted by this loss, her parents — who'd been feeling like the area of Wisconsin they lived in was getting too crowded — decided to head south at the invitation of one of her uncles.

They went south to the Sonoma Desert and the town of Tucson therein, where her father settled down to farming in the much less crowded New Mexico Territory.

After several years her father, having become renowned for his dedication to the law, was asked to become the sheriff of Tucson when the town's current sheriff died. He accepted the position, handed the farm over to her oldest brother, and moved the rest of the family into town.

Since then, Theresa's father has become renowned for making Tucson one of the most just towns in the west, not the sort of place that any criminal could stay long before getting caught and given what they deserve.

Theresa's siblings have all gotten married quite soon after becoming old enough to do so, with her brother immediately older than her having married in the summer previous being the most recent to do so.

This is Theresa's hope as well, but her searches for a man she'd like to marry in Tucson have been futile to this point, leading to fears that she might be an old maid or a spinster. Since the new year, however, those fears have been allayed.

The town doctor's nephew, freshly graduated from medical school, came to Tucson at the beginning of the year to apprentice under his uncle, and the attraction between him and Theresa has been immediate and mutual, leading to the married women in town predicting marriage and a bevy of children while the unmarried ladies in town look on jealously due to the handsomeness of the young doctor.

To this point, he has not proposed to her, but Theresa is confident that they'll be getting married in the autumn of 1873, and she is more than eager to bid adieu to her singleness.

Upheaval: Day 20

Word Total: 120,006

Year to Date: 510,044

Summary of Events:

Leon was forced to come out of his room finally — having finished packing long ago — and tried to escape the Russians, but failed. He was taken on something of a tour of Toronto while the Russians waited for him to tell them who he wanted to say goodbye to, which he refused to do. He made another failed attempt at getting away from them later on. Finally they decided to take him to the psychiatric hospital to say goodby to his mom, whom he had no desire to bid farewell to . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"Enter," Mr. Chekov said, waving Leon ahead.

Leon glared at Mr. Chekov, but didn't move until Mikhail shoved him into the room.

He staggered a couple of steps and then turned around to go back, only to see Mikhail and Kirill blocking the doorway.

Exhaling with annoyance, Leon turned and continued into the room, which contained only one bed. Mama lay on the bed, a blanket lightly over her that didn't really hide the straps holding her down.

She looked the most peaceful Leon had ever seen her: eyes closed, breathing relaxed; in fact, her whole body was relaxed.

"Mama," Leon said quietly.

Not a stir.

"Mama, I came to say goodbye," Leon said quietly. "I'm going to Россия."

Immediately her eyes shot open and an expression of rage came over her face. She screamed at him and Leon instantly recoiled.

Several more times she screamed wordlessly at him. "How dare you! Strap me down to this bed all so that you can ruin me again! You have destroyed me enough Леонид! I will not go to Россия with you! I will never leave Наталя alone! I will never desert her!"

"I'm your son Mama, Артемий," Leon said, positive she thought him to be his father.

She screamed again and fought against the straps.

Leon backed toward the door, a quick glance over his shoulder revealing that Mikhail and Kirill had stepped back; he guessed that they were both unnerved by Mama's tirade.

"Get back here and let me give you what you deserve!" Mama roared.

Leon turned to face the door once he got close to it and took off like a shot. Kirill and Mikhail shouted and took off after him.

As fast as he could, Leon tore down the stairs and out the front door of the hospital. He saw a transit bus to his right and powered toward it as a couple passengers stepped out of it.

"Wait!" he shouted as the bus doors started to close.

One of the disembarked passengers told the driver and the doors reopened.

Leon leapt onto the bus and sagged to his knees, sides heaving painfully, as he was sure his ribs weren't up for this sort of workout yet.

After catching his breath, Leon fumbled for his bus pass and flashed it to the driver. He then staggered back to a seat. Finally he'd gotten away from them, but where could he go now? Most certainly not home.

In fact, he couldn't really stay in Toronto. They'd pull this city apart with a fine-tooth comb looking for him. Goodness knew more agents would come and start looking. He needed to get somewhere outside of Toronto, yet still in Canada.

He grimaced as the bus' brakes made a shrill squeal. The driver announced that they were at the train station. He could take a train somewhere. That was probably the fastest way to escape this upheaval that he knew of.

Pronunciations:

Леонид: Leonid

Наталя: Natalia

Next post will be May 12.

Upheaval: Day 19

Word Count: 114,018

Summary of Events:

Leon was visited by the Russians again and told he'd have a day to say his goodbyes before they left; he was also visited by the head of the school district, who told him he'd have to pay $20,000 in damages to the school and was suspended for the rest of the year — despite his insistence that it wasn't his fault. He was then released from hospital into custody of the Russians, whom he tried — but failed — to escape from. They spent the night guarding him after he made a second attempt at escape; the next morning the makeup artist came to cover up his bruises and scars so he looked more like his passport photo, which was a painful experience due to his bruises . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Finally Fanya dried his tears and Valeri let go of his face before brandishing a short knife and cutting the duct tape that held him to the chair, tearing it off swiftly.

"Good as new," Nikolai said.

Leon looked at him, feeling horrible. He wanted to lash out, but he knew nothing he could do would stop things. He would be going to Russia tonight, whether he liked it or not.

"Now go upstairs and pack," Nikolai said. "Кирилл! The window!"

Valeri pushed Leon toward the living room. Leon obediently went, following after Mikhail once they got to the living room.

As they got to the foot of the stairs Leon considered making a dash for the door, but they had cars, he'd be on foot. He needed to find somewhere else, some way else, to get away from them.

Obediently he mounted the stairs and stepped into his room, whose door Mikhail opened for him.

Standing in the doorway, Leon looked at everything.

The bed, neatly made, as Mama always expected it to be — yet he'd never seen hers made — the desk, sparsely covered with the chair by it. The dresser and bedside table both with nothing more than dust on their tops, aside from a few fragments of his latest alarm clock that Mama had left behind after she'd destroyed it, including some he'd pulled out of his bed when they'd jabbed him since then.

Tears blurred Leon's vision. He had the horrible feeling he was never, ever, going to see this room again. Once he'd packed all he was taking out of it and shut the door on it there was going to be no more hiding here, in his safe space.

"Don't worry about bringing bedding," Mikhail said. "There will be bedding enough in Россия."

"You can't do this to me!" Leon sobbed. "This is my home!"

"If anything you brought this on yourself," Valeri said. "You are the one who participated in the dance contest, after all."

A surge of anger swelled in Leon, but he couldn't come up with the words to say in response to Valeri's comment. It was true. If he would've listened to Mama and not danced then none of this would've happened. But he loved to dance too much, and he wanted to follow in бабушка's footsteps, as she was the one who'd given dance to him.

He seized the door and slammed it shut, closing Mikhail and Valeri out of the room. He sat down in front of the door, gathered his legs close to his chest, and stared at the desk and chair across from him through tear-blurred eyes.

Why were they in such a hurry? Why did he have to go to Russia practically yesterday? Why couldn't he stay here and get used to the idea of leaving before it happened?

Pronunciations:

Кирилл: Kirill

Россия: Russia

Upheaval: Day 18

Word Count: 108,024

Summary of Events:

Leon found his mom in the cemetery, as he'd suspected; he told her that he'd won the contest and would be going to Russia, which prompted a foul reaction that he'd expected, although he did get knocked unconscious. When he woke up he found himself hospitalised with numerous fractures — few of which actually related to his mom's latest attack — where he was visited by Mr. Chekov and several other and informed they intended to take him to Russia as soon as he was released from hospital, which he didn't appreciate because he wanted more time to prepare himself for the departure.

Except of the Day:

Gazing at his face in the mirror, Leon felt like he was looking at a stranger.

Slowly greening bruises painted a swath across his cheek with clear-cut edges that told him the headstone he'd collided with had been at least as wide as the span of the first three knuckles on his hand, or, an estimated three inches.

Stitches ran in a generally straight line from the centre of his cheekbone — right where the flesh transitioned from being the tender, thin, eyelid flesh to the more substantial cheek flesh — all the way across the top of the bruise. About five or six stitches were at the bottom of his bruise right at the edge of his jaw.

The stitches that didn't make sense, however, were the stitches further up on his forehead that arced toward his bruise, following the line of his eyebrow somewhat.

Unless Mama had beat him up further once he'd been knocked out, he had no clue where they had come from. Everything else he knew the source of, and all of it had accompanying bruises: from the soft-edged green-yellow bruise on his left cheek to the large yellowing bruise on his shoulder, the brown bruise around his throat, even the bruises in all the shades from purple to brown on his ribcage and the yellow bruise on his foot which had a bit of a blue and purple spot in the centre of it.

A light knock sounded on the door.

"Artemi?" the nurse, Jillian, asked through the door.

"Yes?" Leon asked — although it was hard not to say it in Russian when he was being called Artemi, as few people who spoke English ever called him by his first name. They all knew him as Leon.

"It's lunchtime," she replied. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," Leon replied.

"I'll come get your tray in a few minutes," she said.

Once she was gone Leon slipped out of the bathroom. He liked it better when he couldn't see his face because then he could imagine that he didn't have all the bruises and stitches, although the stitches were likely going to be coming out shortly before he was released.

They'd determined he wasn't concussed and that all of his fractures should heal quite well without casts so long as he didn't go playing hockey or football or something — and being as he wasn't interested in doing those, he'd be fine.

He was wearing a walking boot on his left foot, which was the one Mama had succeeded in breaking — and no surprise, being as she was right-dominant, thus it was easier for her to stomp forcefully on his left foot — but otherwise he looked perfectly fit.

Seating himself on his bed, Leon adjusted the table so it was in the right position. Although he didn't like the hospital food, it was food, and it was three square meals a day no less. He was probably eating more now than he had in the last couple months, even if he found it unpleasant to taste.

Upheaval: Day 17

Word Count: 102,007

Summary of Events:

After what Leon felt was a long time the competition started, only to have the dances pass quickly; it was then announced that Leon had won, which astonished Leon, who offered the prize to Rhoenne because he felt bad for her. He was taken backstage and told in no uncertain terms that he was not allowed to give the prize away — and accidentally got hit in the cheek by a door. At home, Leon couldn't find his mom anywhere, which made him highly nervous while he went to get ice for his cheek . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Leon wrapped the ice chunk in a thick dishtowel and closed the freezer, as well as putting the hammer away, before hurrying up to his room without bothering to turn any of the lights off.

He found all the locks on his door were done up and so started undoing them, which was a tricky process with only one free hand that was trying to get it done as fast as possible. He wanted to hide away in the one place he knew was safe for a bit. He could go out and look for Mama later.

Once he finally got into his room Leon slammed the door behind him and sat down against it, holding the ice chunk against his cheek with pressure despite the fact that doing so made his cheek hurt frightfully.

Thinking about his pain would hopefully get his mind off the fear of being at home in the dark and completely unsure of where Mama was. Usually when he snuck in after the competition she was sitting in the dining room or could be heard talking to herself in her room. The silence of this house was uncommon, and was the very reason he'd rather open his window and pollute the backyard than go out even so far as the bathroom down the hall if he needed to relieve himself in the middle of the night.

It wasn't common that Mama went out on late-night excursions to the cemetery. Usually she went in the middle of the afternoon in full daylight. When she went at night was unnerving, even though Leon was typically safely hidden away in his room when she departed.

Hearing her through the door both when she left and when she came back, moaning and groaning like she was dying from some grievous wound, was the scariest thing he'd ever heard in his life, and had haunted many a nightmare over the years that had left him sitting wide-eyed in the corner of his bed with his light on until the first light of dawn coloured the sky out his bedroom window.

With the house as eerily quiet as it was, there was no other place Mama could possibly be than at the cemetery visiting Natalia's grave for some unknown reason.

Leon didn't want to go look. He'd never accompanied Mama on her after-dark grave visits; in fact, he'd gotten out of visiting Natalia's grave anytime as soon as he could. He didn't see the point in the visits. Mama purported that she saw Natalia in the house, so why did she have to go visit the grave?

Even more so: why did she have to go visit the grave after dark, and accompanied by such unearthly and demonic moaning as she uttered?

Regardless of why she did it, in order to ascertain her position, Leon was going to have to go down to the church to see if she was there.

Upheaval: Day 16

Word Count: 96,043

Summary of Events:

In the second round Leon got worked hard in his first dance, and he hadn't really fully recovered from the effort when he had to dance again because Maeve completed her second dance; he succeeded in completing his second dance and moving on to the final night. After sleeping a lot longer than usual Leon went to the library and learned some more about his grandmother: notably that she'd died while in Toronto, which unsettled him. He and Rhoenne were instructed to come early so they could actually learn a dance before performing it, with Rhoenne going to learn hers first while Leon had a brief visit with Mr. Chekov before waiting for Rhoenne to finish . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

He followed Denis back to the big room. It seemed unnerving for such a large room to be so empty, when only a week ago it'd been practically bursting at the seams with dancers eager to show Toronto that they would become the next prima ballerina of the Bolshoi.

Now, in one week, two hundred and eighty dancers had been whittled down to two, the two whom — at least it appeared — were the best of all the dancers that had entered, and were now going to be pitted against each other to see who could withstand the challenge of being pushed to the limits of their abilities in front of a large audience.

A newspaper article Penelope had showed him at lunchtime talked about how there was the possibility that even some of the big names in politics might be there to watch, including the Mayor of Toronto, the Premier of Ontario, the Lieutenant Governor, the Prime Minister of Canada, and the Governor General of Canada.

Canadian ballet icon Karen Kain might even be in the audience according to news reports. It sounded like everyone who was anyone in Canada, and in dance in Canada, would be watching the two best dancers in Toronto — although some were even saying they were the two best in Canada — in one of the most epic dance-offs of all time to see who would win the chance to go to Russia and be a member of one of the world's most prestigious ballet companies.

Leon's stomach twisted. He couldn't help but feel nervous. If all those people showed up in reality it would be nerve-wracking, and Leon wasn't sure that he wanted to actually go through with it now.

Goodness knew — with the news sensation this contest had become in Toronto — he might end up front-page news tomorrow morning, and even though Mama wasn't big into reading newspapers, she would assuredly glance at the front page, and would quickly be scandalised to see her son whom she'd expressly forbidden to participate in the contest being celebrated as one of the two best dancers in all of Toronto.

He doubted the fact that the contest hadn't taken him to Russia would appease her at all — especially if he actually happened to win tonight — and he didn't really want to know what would happen, but he doubted, especially at this point, that there was anything he could possibly do to stop it from happening.

If he was being truly honest, Leon had to confess that he wanted to win tonight. Winning would be better than runner-up because at least it meant that he had a way to get out of living with Mama and suffering her ire for his participation in the contest.

Upheaval: Day 15

Word Count: 90,035

Summary of Events:

Leon looked up Lavrinti Soshnikov on YouTube; he found little when he searched in English, but an epic 30-minute video of highlights when he searched in Cyrillic, including footage of Soshnikov dancing Petrushka. Leon found out that the girl he'd defeated last night had fled the theatre and thrown herself in front of a train, thankfully she wasn't dead, but Leon still felt terrible. At the competition Leon got the distinct impression the girl he was paired with was a sore loser, which he doubted would cause things to end well, especially when he saw her friend — an equally sore loser — react to her elimination, which he compared to his own opinions . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Leon wanted to be able to do his best, certainly, even if his best wasn't perfect, or even if his best wasn't good enough for Mama. So long as he did his best he didn't really care what the end result was.

Winning would be fantastic, there was no doubt about that, but if his best didn't allow him to win, then he would be okay with that and would look out for another opportunity to try again if he could.

Either that, or Leon would look for a different way into the Bolshoi — not that he couldn't dance elsewhere; but to dance with the company that бабушка had danced with would be incredible, it would be amazing, it would admittedly be a little frightening, but in a good sort of way.

Rhoenne's opponent fell and Leon groaned with the crowd. She had done well, but Rhoenne had succeeded in completing her first dance, just as Leon, thus her opponent was eliminated without Rhoenne having to dance a second time.

The crowd applauded her and she seemed very gracious in her acceptance of her defeat, much like Nevaeh's opponent.

"You go on stage now," Leon heard a man say.

"But Rhoenne needs to dance," Kylee hissed.

"She completed her dance, the other girl is eliminated, she does not need to dance again until the next round," the man — an attendant, likely — said. "You now dance."

"No I not now dance," Kylee retorted.

"If you won't dance then you will be eliminated," the man replied menacingly.

"You can't eliminate me," Kylee snapped. "That's unfair."

"Kylee Kinley has thirty seconds to make her appearance at centre stage or she will be eliminated," Mr. Chekov said, almost as if he could hear their argument.

"This isn't right," Kylee hissed before storming out to centre stage just as Mr. Chekov announced that she had twenty seconds.

After a few moments the lights went up and Kylee started dancing. Leon could tell in her movements that she was angry and unimpressed, as she practically threw herself around like a puppet being manipulated by a terrible puppeteer.

It didn't take long before she ended up falling.

"Please congratulate Kylee Kinley for her valiant efforts in this competition," Mr. Chekov said.

Kylee stalked over to where Mr. Chekov stood in the wings. "What does that mean?"

"It means you are eliminated," Mr. Chekov replied away from the microphone.

"How dare you!" Kylee screamed. "How dare you eliminate me from this competition! This competition is rigged! You've rigged it! You've rigged it against the best! All you want is some scummy dancers who can't even dress themselves!"

"That is enough Miss Kinley," Mr. Chekov said.

"Enough," Kylee spat, then swore. "You will suffer for this!"

She made an obscene gesture and then stalked off the stage. Leon was glad that there was only one night left in the competition, and that — from what he could tell — all the sore losers had been eliminated.

Pronunciation:

Nevaeh: nehvayah

Upheaval: Day 14

Word Count: 84,038

Summary of Events:

At the theatre, Leon got into his costume and warmed up before joining his fellow competitors to be given the rules of the elimination round: they would be divided into pairs based on how long they'd stayed on their feet, and whoever stayed on their feet longer over the course of two dances — or completed a dance when the other failed to do so on both their attempts — won; the process being repeated until only two dancers remained. Leon actually ended up falling, and falling on his sore shoulder, during his first dance, which led to concern that he might not be able to do his second dance, but some painkillers and ice allowed him to dance again . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

He inhaled a deep breath, then let it out and walked to centre stage, where he rolled his shoulders a few times — feeling no pain on either side — before staring straight ahead and waiting, completely relaxed.

As the lights rose the music started and Leon started into motion according to Mr. Chekov's commands.

No thoughts of falling came into his mind. This was a new dance, a new song, he wasn't at all sore from any of the bruises he'd gotten this morning; he almost wished he could've felt this good in ballet class this afternoon aside from the part where he'd danced the pas de deux with Penelope.

The music carried him across the stage; he danced with lightness of foot, yet portraying a character with a heavy heart that he was sure a man who was set to marry a woman he didn't love because he couldn't marry the one whom he really loved would have.

He danced as if he were doing a dance of longing for his beloved sylph, a dance of agony that he was being forced to marry someone other than her, maybe even a dance of grief to have seen her suffer so torturously before the poisoned cloak had taken her away from him permanently.

Admittedly, he was dancing like he was pretending to be happy, but wasn't really happy at all; as he was sure a person was supposed to be happy on their wedding day, but, when they weren't marrying the one they loved, they couldn't be truly happy as they ought without forcing themselves to be that way.

The end of the song came softly, and Leon moved quietly into an end pose that included him covering his face with his hands to portray the anguish of the character he was more than certain he was dressed as.

Again the applause was thunderous and Leon gave reverence to the crowd before walking off the stage and listening as Mr. Chekov called out Jedda to take a final bow upon having been officially eliminated from the competition after a valiant effort.

Applause anticipating her appearance died out in an awkward fashion, with murmuring coming into its place. Leon turned to see the stage illuminated, but empty.

Mr. Chekov tried again and everyone applauded again, but Jedda still did not appear.

Leon felt badly. She had put up a good contest against him in this elimination round, he hoped that she wasn't sore about it, but, considering how Jane, Laurel, and Ariel's mom had reacted to their respective eliminations, Leon couldn't really say he was all that surprised; some people just weren't good at losing, and it appeared that Jedda might be one of them. 

Mr. Chekov apologised to the audience and promised that they would find Jedda and send her out on stage to be recognised.

Quietly, Leon left the wings and started back for his dressing room. He'd survived to dance another night; he was pretty sure that he could go get out of his costume now.