Snippet (Patreon)

I have the next Sam chapter sent off to Mel so she can clean it up for me. In the mean time, here's a little snippet from my current YA book that I've been calling the Frontier book but right now has the placeholder title of Beasts All Around. (I'm hoping to think of something better.) Enjoy!

After the gate swung open and we were ushered in, I was allowed to scramble out of the cart. While the gunslinger spoke softly to the guard at the door, I stretched out the knots in my back and took a gander at my new stomping grounds. I wish I could say that the inside was warm, welcoming, and didn’t match the outer trimmings of the Settlement.

That would be a bald-faced lie.

Ahead of me stood a long, low-slung building, painted white. A belfry jutted up from it, making me assume that it housed the chapel, and perhaps a mess hall of some sort as it was situated next to a small kitchen garden. To the left there were stalls for the horses and a long barn. My guess would be a few cows for milking, and a pen for the handful of goats that were wandering about the place.

A place like this likely also had a pig or two to feed the dinner scraps to until it was time to carve them up for chops. In the middle of the yard sat a well, the kind with a crank and a bucket. Around that, the goats milled about chewing on what grass they could find, as a few chickens scattered around them pecking away at this and that.

I had a certain fondness for chickens, though they were often the most brainless of creatures. They could be mean and silly, but I like them all the same. I supposed you could say I have a fondness for animals in general. Unlike humans, animals never lied. They might try to gore you with a horn or kick you in the backside, but they were honest about it.

A wildcat never pretends that it wouldn’t eat you.

People lied like they were breathing.

Off to my right was another building, this one taking up an entire wall. It looked like living quarters. There weren’t many people about at this time in the afternoon. Two smaller children, perhaps nine or ten years in age, sat outside on the ground by the kitchen garden, peeling potatoes. They were dressed uniformly, the boy in brown canvas trousers, a flannel shirt, and suspenders to keep the pants on his lanky frame. The girl wore an ankle length dress, her hair in neat braids. Though neither of them had jackets, I was surprised to see that they had on stout boots. In winter they were necessary, but that didn’t mean everyone got them.

I myself only had boots we’d bought second hand from the mercantile in town. They were too big—I had to stuff the toes with old rags, but they didn’t have any holes, for which I was grateful. The boots on the children may seem like a kindness from the Settlement, but if they’d lost a foot to frostbite, they wouldn’t be able to do their choring. So I suspect they’d been shod like they would do a workhorse, nothing more.

Despite the lingering grasp of winter, the day had been sunny and clear, and someone had made use of it—there was washing hung up on the line next to one of the buildings. A girl with neatly pinned and braided hair appeared to take it down, folding it into a basket. Those were the only souls I could see until I looked up. A narrow walkway had been built along the palisades, and two people walked along it, rifles slung over their back. Whether they were here to discourage people from coming in, or from going out would remain to be seen.

I was pressed into work right away, helping the driver unload his wagon and carry the bags over to the big building with the belfry. I stacked them neatly by the kitchen door as I was told before heading back to the wagon to make my first real unpleasant discovery.

My suitcase was gone.

A tall, angular woman in the same sturdy clothing as the children earlier stood by the now empty cart. Her milky skin was wind-roughened, and a scar split her face from the corner of her mouth to past her chin, giving her lip a permanent curl to it. Her eyes were hard, but not hateful. That didn’t mean I was about to trust her.

I kept my voice even, passably pleasant. “Where are my things?” I always attempted to lead with manners. It cost me nothing, and a smart mouth from the beginning would get me labeled as difficult. Which wouldn’t do me any favors and might get me watched. The less eyes on me the better.

“Confiscated for now. The Settlement will provide you with clothes, food, and shelter. After we’ve gone through your belongings throughly and you’ve proven yourself, we’ll return your things.”

I canted my head, and the light caught my eyes. I wanted to see her better, for one. Her tone was blunt, almost harsh, but her words sounded true. I liked plain speaking, so I was inclined to like her.

So I showed her my eyes.

Like I said, my hair made people wary. My eyes gave them the shudders. They were a gray so light they were almost colorless, except for the thin darker ring at the very edge.

The woman’s small mouth pursed, her eyebrows shooting down, but she didn’t utter a word. The cart driver and the gunslinger had returned as we’d been talking and stood a little behind her. The gunslinger didn’t so much as blink. He was hawk-eyed, and I’m sure not a single detail of my person had escaped him. The driver was another story. Despite going on almost two days in the back of his cart, he’d not truly seen me until now.

He stumbled back, all the blood leaving his face. With a shaking hand, he ran his fingers over his heart, warding off evil.

I smiled at him, tight lipped.

He didn’t like that, growing suddenly irritated. Fear could often shift into anger faster than a lightning flash in a thunderstorm. He shooed me back from that cart, hissing like a cat.