Sheriff Poole & the Mech Gang by Charles de Lint

Author:Charles de Lint [Lint, Charles de]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Science Fiction, short story santo del vado viejo urban fantasy weird western science fiction steampunk carnivals
ISBN: 9780920623190
Goodreads: 18620978
Publisher: Triskell Press
Published: 2013-05-03T00:00:00+00:00

A year later I’m steering down a dusty side road in my old pickup. Mason’s got the shotgun seat, Buddy’s riding in between us. We’re towing a new-to-us old Airstream trailer as I follow the directions Mason reads from the GPS app on her phone.

“That’s it,” she says, pointing ahead to where a dirt lane leaves the side road and heads out to some buildings we can see out in the brush.

It’s a crappy track, full of potholes, and I take my time pulling the trailer along its half-mile length. By the time we reach the ranch house a woman is standing on the porch, shading her eyes. She’s got a couple of lean, reddish-brown dogs beside her on the porch. The dogs are obviously interested in us—gazes steady, ears twitching—but trained enough to stay with her and not bark.

I pull in under the shade of a tall mesquite, roll down the window, and get out of the cab. Mason follows suit, but we leave Buddy inside.

“Ma’am,” I say and touch the brim of my baseball cap with a finger. “Is Tommy around?”

“He’s out by the barn,” she says, “but I wouldn’t get your hopes up. He’s pretty particular about what he buys.”

I guess she thinks we’re here to try to make a deal on the Airstream.

“We’re not selling,” I tell her.

She smiles. “Well, then you’re most welcome. The last thing we need around here is more junk—no offense. That trailer actually looks to be in pretty good shape.”

“It better be. We paid enough for it. Is it okay if I go talk to Tommy?”

“Sure. If he’s not in the barn then he’s in the workshop behind it.”

I touch the brim of my cap again. “Thanks.”

“You go on ahead,” Mason says when I turn to her.

I nod. She knows this is something I have to do on my own.

“I’ve got iced tea,” I hear Tommy’s wife say as I’m leaving. “If you’d care for a glass.”

“That would be lovely,” Mason tells her.

Then I’m out of earshot.

I follow the sound of a hammer on metal around back of the barn. When I turn the corner I see Tommy banging out the dents on the side panel of what looks to be an old bumper car.

“Hey,” I say.

He lifts his head. It takes him a moment to recognize me and then a wary look comes into his eyes.

“Should I be wishing I had my shotgun in my hand,” he says, “instead of this mallet?”

I shake my head. “I’m not here to make trouble. I came by to apologize.”

He sets the mallet down on the hood of the car.

“There’s no need for that,” he tells me. “Things were pretty messed up that night and I should have kept my mouth shut. You were doing just fine before I came along.”

“There hasn’t been an attack since then,” I tell him. “Not one. We’ve never had so long a stretch.”

He waves me over to where a couple of plastic lawn chairs are set in the shade.

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