The Miscreant (3 page)

He lurched to his feet and threw Garran into the wall. Garran tried to block the proceeding flurry of blows with his arms. He ducked his head to the side, and Dwight’s heavy fist struck the wall with enough force to crack the planking. He tried to use his knees to catch his stepfather in the gut and thighs, but he was pressed in too close for him to land anything but a few feeble strikes.

Nina threw herself between her husband and son and tried to push her husband away. Dwight grabbed her wrist, swung her around, and hit her in the face. Lost in his drunken rage, Nina became the primary focus of Dwight’s violence. She dropped to the floor and curled into a ball as Dwight punched at her back and head.

Garran picked up his reaping blade, darted across the room, and struck Dwight in the back of the head with the haft side of the blade. Dwight stumbled away and spun back toward Garran. Garran stepped over his mother and turned the deadly end of the steel toward his stepfather.

“Touch either of us again and I’ll kill you,” Garran swore.

Dwight looked about to call Garran’s bluff, but he spit on the floor and straightened up. “I got better places to be than surrounded by a bastard and a whore.”

Garran turned to keep facing him until Dwight left the house, slamming the door behind him. The tool clattered to the floor, and Garran helped his mother to a chair. Her left eye was swollen shut and already going from red to purple. By morning, it would be as black as Dwight’s heart.

“Mom, are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” She brushed Garran’s hair away from the gash over his eye. “I need to stitch that up. I’ll go get my sewing kit.”

Nina went to the corner of the room where she did her sewing and knitting, retrieved a small wooden box, and motioned for her son to sit in front of her. She selected one of the smaller needles from the box and some good thread.

“I should sanitize this before I use it, but I don’t want to wait for water to boil. Best use some alcohol.” She reached for a nearby bottle.

“You probably shouldn’t use that one. I don’t think the alcohol content is very high anymore.”

Nina sighed and shook her head, but she could not keep from grinning. “I’ll fetch the one Dwight hides in the bedroom, unless you found that one too.”

“No, where does he keep it?”

Nina didn’t answer and returned a moment later with a small flask. She filled a shot glass and soaked the needle and thread for a full minute before she began stitching shut the wound.

“I don’t know why you gotta rile him up like that. You know how he is. He’s gonna kill you one of these days, and it’ll be your own fault.”

“Before or after he kills you?”

“I’ll be fine. I know how to handle him when you don’t drive him insane. If it weren’t for you, I’d have no trouble.”

“He started it. He took my money.”

“You blew up Finney’s still! What was he supposed to do? He might be an angry, good-for-nothing drunk, but he’s right about being responsible. You’re almost a man, and you need to start acting like one or you’re never gonna make it. Stop getting in so much damn trouble.”

“I try.”

“You don’t do a very good job of it.”

“I didn’t say I tried very hard.”

Nina chuckled and shook her head. “You’re too damn clever by half for a little town like this. This place is fine for dullards like Dwight and most the folks living here, but you get bored too easy. You got too much of your father in you. That man couldn’t sit still for five minutes before something started itching at him and he had to run off and scratch it before it drove him mad. He couldn’t even hold still long enough to make an honest woman out of me. Of course, the last itch he ran off to scratch got him killed.”

“Was he a no-good drunk too?”

Garran had never known his father and had not given the man much thought. He had little interest in knowing who he was until recently as he neared manhood and gave his future some serious thought. Dwight thought he could define who and what Garran was by the character and actions of a man long dead, and it infuriated him.

“He enjoyed his drink, that’s for sure. He had grand ideas that he was certain would see him to a life of wealth and luxury. He could charm the scales off a snake when he wanted to. I think maybe he coulda made it in the city, but I reckon he hoodwinked the wrong sort on his last expedition, and it cost him his life.”

Garran did not know if he was like his father or not, but he certainly would not let someone like Dwight characterize him. He was his own man and no one else’s. It was his life, and he would live it by his rules no matter his lineage.

“There’s some food in the kitchen,” his mother said. “Grab a plate and head up to your room. Best if you stay out of Dwight’s sight for a spell.”

“He won’t be back until he reaches the end of his line of credit at the bar.”

“You still need to make yourself scarce.”

Garran touched the stitches closing up the gash on his head, as he headed to the kitchen. “Fine.”

“I mean what I say. You best stop acting the fool. It’s time to get right.”

Garran did not bother responding. When faced with the choice of lying to or angering his mother, he felt it best to say nothing at all. Maybe he would lie low for a while, but it was not entirely up to him. The world placed obstacles and temptations in his path, and he could not predict how he would navigate them until they arrived.

***

Heavy pounding roused him from his slumbers. Garran opened his eyes and clamped them back shut against the light streaming through his open window. Through squinted eyes he watched a shadow dancing furtively against the wall. He cast his gaze toward the window and saw the silhouette of someone just outside hammering something into the frame. He rolled out of bed and crossed the small room to the window. Dwight stood on a ladder just beyond, hammering an iron grate over the opening.

Garran glared at Dwight’s grinning face through the flat, crisscrossing bars. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You want to act like a criminal, I’m gonna treat you like one. Maybe some time cooped up in your room and away from your friends will teach you a lesson.”

“Criminals get a trial!”

Garran spun around and made for his bedroom door. He twisted the knob, but it was locked. He pounded on the door with his fist and shouted, “Mother!”

Nina’s voice spoke from the other side. “Garran, you settle down. This is for your own good.”

“You can’t keep me caged up like an animal!”

“Maybe you need to think about that before you decide to act like one,” Dwight said, chortling.

Garran kicked the door several times and looked around his room for something heavy with which to bash it down.

“You break anything and you’re gonna pay for it!”

“How am I supposed to pay when you took all my money and keep me from going to work?”

“Oh, you’ll pay, trust me.”

Garran’s mother shouted. “You do as you’re told! You just sit a spell, don’t cause no trouble, and we’ll let you out.”

Garran gave the door one final kick, threw himself onto his bed, and covered his eyes with his arm. Dwight continued to chortle as he finished securing the barrier in place. Garran heard the ladder scrape against the side of the house when Dwight finished his work and left. Garran stared at the ceiling, cursing Dwight, his pliable mother, and his ill luck. At some point during his bemoaning, he fell asleep, only to be awoken by another noise at his window.

Matt’s voice drifted through the bars. “Garran.”

He stepped up to the window, his face framed by iron slats. “Matt?”

“What’s going on? You didn’t show up at work, and there are bars on your window.”

“That bag of pus Dwight put me on house arrest for Finney’s still. And he took all my damn money!”

Matt grimaced. “Yeah, I have to work for Finney to pay off my debt.”

“Careful, Finney’s an oddball recluse who hasn’t had a wife since before we were born. He might try to turn you into a fancy boy.”

“Real funny. How long are you locked up for?”

“Until tonight. I have a date, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to miss it.”

“How are you going to get out?”

“With your help.”

“I don’t know. I’m in a lot of trouble already. I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with the consequences of performing a jailbreak.”

“This isn’t a jailbreak, it’s a rescue. I was never tried in court, and this isn’t a prison. I’m sure the entire thing is illegal.”

“Now you’re a law
magister
?”

“Are you going to help me or not?”

“What do you need me to do?”

“I need a brazier, coal, crucible, clay, some hard wax, molding sand, and pot metal. I think I can fashion a key from wax, make a mold, and smelt some metal for the final product.”

“Where the hell am I supposed to get all that?” Matt demanded.

“The work site casts all of its simple tools, rivets, and such. You should be able to get everything from there.”

“Now you want me to steal from my work? I’m really starting to remember the crappy things you’ve done to me over the years and wonder if our friendship is that strong.”

“Come on, Matt,” Garran pleaded. “If I don’t meet Claire tonight you know someone else will.”

Matt scratched at his stubble-sprouting chin. “Yeah, she will…”

“Don’t even think about it! She doesn’t like you anyway.”

“She doesn’t like you either, but that’s not stopping her.”

“Of course she likes me!”

“No, she really doesn’t. She told my sister about your first encounter, and that’s the only reason she came back around. She’s using you.”

“Oh no, she’s using me for sex? Whatever shall I do? Come on, please, Matt! Do not parry my thrust.”

Matt grinned up at his friend. “How does it feel to have someone bust
your
balls?”

“All right, I deserve that. Will you help me?”

“Yeah, I got your back. Don’t go anywhere; I’ll be back in a little while.”

“Ha-ha, real funny.”

Matt darted down the road, and Garran began searching his room for the things he would need. He grabbed the lamp next to his bed, struck his flint and steel onto a sulfur stick, and lit it. He crouched next to the keyhole and used a small mirror to direct light into the hole. After studying the tumblers and dredging up memories of what the key looked like, he sat down and drew it out on a piece of parchment as best he could. Dipping his quill into the inkwell, he could not suppress the grin on his face when he thought about Claire.

***

His mother came up with his lunch around noon. Dwight stood guard just outside the room in case Garran should try to make a break for it. Nina refused to meet his accusing eyes when she set the tray on the small table.

“How long are you going to keep me here?”

“Until we think you’ve learned a lesson.”

“We or Dwight?”

Nina looked away. “It’s for your own good. It’s not as if you give us many choices.”

“Locking up your son and treating him like a criminal is the best of your limited options?”

Dwight grumbled from outside the room, “Don’t get into it, Nina. He’s got his food.”

She straightened her back and said, “It’s the bed you made; now you gotta lie in it.”

Garran glared at her as she walked out. “Not like I have many options but to lie in it, do I?”

The door slammed shut and the lock clicked home, punctuating the end of their argument. Garran ate his food without enthusiasm, lay down on his bed, and waited for Matt’s return. With his lunch weighing down his stomach, he was pulled into a slumber soon broken by the sound of something hitting and skittering across the floor.

He scanned the room for the source of the disturbance and spotted several small stones littering the floor. He rolled out of bed and peered out of the window, only to have a rock clip his forehead.

“Ow, damn it all to hell! Right in my stitches.”

Matt grinned up at him. “Sorry.”

“You don’t look very sorry.”

“Probably because I’m really not. That was for Lefty.”

“Fine, but we’re even now.”

Matt shook his head and smiled. “Not by a long shot. Anyway, I got all the stuff you asked for.”

“Great! Let me find a rope.”

Garran pawed through a chest of knickknacks and found a length of heavy cord. He threaded the twine through the bars, and Matt tied on a sack containing the tools he needed. He could not fit the contents through the bars as a whole, so he pulled the items through one at a time until they were in a pile at his feet.

“Matt, tell Claire I might be a little late for our meeting. Tell her to wait for me.”

“All right, but you have to tell me all about it tomorrow.”

Garran grinned and cocked an eyebrow. “Are you kidding? You won’t be able to shut me up.”

He set up the brazier, piled several lumps of coal in the basin, and lit it with a sulfur stick. He placed a small crucible atop the coals and dropped in several pieces of pot metal. While the coal and the metal heated, Garran pressed a thin coat of molding clay over the teeth of his wax key. Inserting it into the lock, he gently turned it until he met resistance.