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Slaughter at Stringybark Creek

Chapter Ten

(c) Cederwyn Whitefurr

27th August, 2017,

All Rights Reserved.

As Owen began hammering at the iron padlock that held the trunk closed, occasionally swearing to himself as he worked, Feredwyn returned to bathing Lachlan's ear, much to his protest. Feredwyn ignored Lachlan's whimpers and complaints, as she wrapped a clean cloth around the ear and got him to hold it there as she went back inside. Returning a few moments later, she carried a crude leather satchel with her which she sat on the ground, then flipped it open and started pulling out a variety of jars and pouches.

“Oh, now you're in for it - “ Owen snickered, then picked up a crow bar and began smacking the truck, wedging it deep until he could start levering at the hinges.

“I'm in for - “ Lachlan's eyes widened and he shrieked as Feredwyn pressed a compress against the notch in his ear.

“Two choices Lachlan," Feredwyn sighed as she held his ear in a tight grasp, keeping the compress tight. “You can suffer a little now, and it'll heal..."

“Or?" Lachlan sobbed.

“Or - “ Owen grunted, then threw down the crowbar in frustration and sat down on the trunk. “Well, you'll not like it if it gets infected – trust me. Let Feredwyn do her magic, sure, it hurts – but I'd rather it hurt, than the consequences..."

With a wracking cough preceding him, Clanton staggered out of the cottage and blinked owlishly, as he shivered and sneezed.

“Oh, you're awake!" Feredwyn smiled, as she dug through her satchel and held out a small pouch towards Clanton. “Here, take this, mix it with some water and drink it, that cough sounds like it's easing at last!"

“Doesn't feel like it - “ Clanton wheezed, as he shivered from ear-tips to foot paws.

Feredwyn chuckled softly, then slapped Lachlan lightly on the nose with her leathery paw pads, as she caught him trying to take the compress off his injured ear.

“Wait...what - “ Clanton wheezed, then he bent over as he began coughing until even Feredwyn thought he'd not stop.

Ignoring Lachlan, Feredwyn ran over to Clanton, then placed the back of her paw against his forehead, feeling the fever which raged through him.

“Owen, help me!" Feredwyn squealed. “Clanton's very sick – he needs to get back to bed, now!"

Grunting, Owen rose, then scooped up Clanton and held him close, carrying the wheezing and coughing young buck back inside.

“He's very ill - “ Lachlan whispered, as Feredwyn snapped her satchel closed.

“Aye, he is – I don't understand it...I know herbal craft – he should be getting better, not...worse." Feredwyn sighed, as she retrieved a fresh bucket of water and made her way to Clanton's bedside, Lachlan following.

Lachlan looked down at his friend, then he realised just how ill Clanton looked – his cheeks were hollow, eyes sunken and glassy, even his fur looked dry and brittle again. He gasped and wheezed, as Owen placed him gently on the narrow cot, then Feredwyn placed several blankets over him and began mixing a powder into a enamel cup and holding it up for Clanton to drink the bitter liquid.'

Owen watched, a look of sadness fluttering across his muzzle, before he gestured to Lachlan, and the two of them left the room, Lachlan closing the door quietly behind him.

“It – doesn't look good, does it?" Lachlan asked, as he swallowed and bravely tried to hold back the tears that threatened to spill down his cheeks.

“No, it doesn't - “ Owen admitted, then brushed his large hands across his own eyes. “Feredwyn is an amazing woman – she won't give up without a fight, now, come with me. I think we need to leave her too it."

Owen led Lachlan out of the cottage, then down a narrow path that led up the hillside, before stepping into another clearing where Lachlan stood amazed and bewildered – for Owen had built himself a rough forge, replete with open fire pit with glowing coals, bellows and other machinery and benches covered with hammers, tongs and some things Lachlan couldn't identify. Owen smiled weakly, then nodded.

“I told you, I was a blacksmith – but this?" Owen gestured at the scene before them. “This is just rough – poor workmanship! This is nothing compared to what I had – once..."

Shaking off his melancholy, Owen walked over to a separate bench, then he threw off the tarpaulin that covered it and Lachlan's eyes narrowed, before he looked at Owen, then back to the bench.

“I told you," Owen smiled weakly. “I had some experience – with other Brushrangers. Now, this isn't going to be an exact fit you understand..."

Owen threw Lachlan a thick cow hide jerkin, that hung down past Lachlan's knees when he put it on, then he hefted a heavy plate chest piece. Placing it on Lachlan, who grunted and blinked at the heavy weight, Owen tightened the straps on the sides.

“How does that feel?" Owen asked, stepping back and looking at it.

“Heavier than I thought it would be - “ Lachlan admitted, as he twisted himself from side to side, feeling the heavy plate pulling painfully at his shoulders, where a majority of the weight was centred.

“It needs to be – you're not some weak human – you're a stallion – like me, we're naturally stronger than humans would ever be, so I made this armour accordingly. Now, for the rest of it..."

Lachlan grunted as Owen fitted him with crude greaves on his shins, tightening straps here and there, then added a thick plate over the groin and upper thighs. Once again, Lachlan gasped, feeling like the armour was crushing him, but he stepped out more, trying to distribute the weight.

“How will I be able to fight in this?" Lachlan moaned, as he felt Owen placing heavy epaulettes on his shoulders, affixing them to the chest piece with buckles and straps.

“You'll learn - “ Owen snickered. “Now..."

Lachlan gasped, as his injured ear was rubbed against the edge of the metal helmet that Owen placed over his head – a helmet which covered almost all of his head, except for about four inches just above his nostrils. Peering out through a confining narrow slit in the front of the helmet – Lachlan realised just how stifling and restrictive the armour was.

“There, how's that feel?" Owen asked, as he stepped back and cast a critical eye over his creation.

“Heavy - “ Lachlan grunted, as he experimentally took a step, feeling his body now encased in thick, heavy plate armour. “No doubt about heavy, a bit chafing in places – the vision is terrible – I can only see straight ahead and - “

“Rely on your other senses, your ears I've left uncovered – but they're a small target – most will shoot for your chest area, largest area to hit, so I made sure the armour was thickest there and..."

Without warning, Owen pulled leather, then unloaded all six shots point blank at Lachlan, who screamed in fear with each gunshot, the closeness of the bullets striking him made the armour ring with the impacts and Lachlan gasped, feeling the force of the bullet smacking home against his chest.

“None got through, not surprised - “ Owen nodded in satisfaction, as Lachlan wheezed and gasped, feeling like someone had kicked him in the chest. “Might need some extra padding in the shoulders and chest plate...always room for improvement - “

Lachlan reached up with shaking paws, then pulled the helmet off and dropped it on the ground as he wheezed and gasped for breath.

“You knew..." Lachlan moaned, as he tried to rub his chest, but the thick plate, now dented, prevented it.

“I suspected – I didn't know until I pulled the trigger - “ Owen admitted with a weak smile. “It's not completely bullet proof – there are gaps in the armour, there isn't much I can do about that...maybe some thicker leather, some wool padding..."

Lachlan began fumbling at the buckles and straps, as he began pulling off the armour and dropping it on the ground. Owen watched with interest, then as the last piece clattered to the ground, he shook his head and tsked.

“Nearly fifteen minutes?" Owen snorted. “I counted them, you'll have to be better at this, that's way too long, you should be able to remove the armour in half that time!"

Lachlan stared, then pulled the thick surcoat off and threw it onto the ground, before gently touching his chest, feeling the bruises beneath his fur, and wincing.

“It's my first time wearing it - “ Lachlan sighed, as he winced and touched another sore spot. “Definitely need some extra padding..."

*

When Constable Kelsie returned, she found the Sargent in a vile mood, leaning against the gate to the Police Stockyard.

“Just where do you think you have been?" He snarled at her.

“Doing my job, sir - “ Kelsie replied, as she dismounted and led Jess towards the stable.

“Don't get smart with me, Constable – I got a lovely cell in the coldest part of the Stockade – that's going empty, and you keep it up, I'll ensure you find a home there – now – just what by your job – were you doing?"

Kelsie paused whilst unbuckling the girth strap, a sigh escaping her muzzle before she could stop it. “I was investigating the robbery to start with, then, in case you hadn't noticed – the stage hasn't arrived! I found what was left of it, about ten miles south west of Stringybark. It'd been hit, the driver and guard were dead and the trunk was stolen. However - “

Marching towards her, the Sargent gripped her painfully by the shoulders and shoving her cruelly against Jess, who whickered in fright and stamped a hoof.

“However?" Roared the Sargent, his nose mere inch away from Kelsie's.

“However - “ Kelsie swallowed, then tried to press herself back against Jess, but Jess didn't move. “Constable Sebastian – found a blood spatter. We think – one of the people who hit the stage, might have been wounded, but he isn't sure..."

Releasing Kelsie, the Sargent snorted, then rubbed a hand over his roughly stubbled chin thoughtfully. “Damn fine Constable – that Weasel, loyal, a good man – as far as your kind can be trusted...you'd learn a lot from him..."

“No doubt - “ Kelsie swallowed, then shuddered, knowing the Sargent wouldn't see it, but keeping her true feelings about Sebastian to herself.

“Have him report to me, when he turns up – I got - “ Pausing, the Sargent turned sideways and the look he gave Kelsie, chilled her blood. “...a special assignment for him, and for myself...now, Patterson has requested my time, and it's not wise to keep the old codger waiting..."

“Codger?" Kelsie wondered to herself, wondering what Patterson would think of his lap dog calling him that, but she knew to keep it to herself.

“Yes, Sir - “ Kelsie replied as respectfully as she could, before turning back to Jess and unsaddling her.

*

Patterson sat before the crackling fireplace, as he sipped from a wine glass, the faint aroma of wine reaching Sgt. MacGoven's nostrils as he was ushered into the dimly lit room. Taking a moment, he let his eyes adjust, before he he moved forwards, then stopped a dozen paces away, his hands clasped behind his back.

“You sent for me, Sir?" MacGoven asked, his voice soft and deferential to the old man, who kept him waiting, as he

swirled his wine, appreciating how the colour shone through in the light from the fire.

“You're loyal, aren't you?" Patterson began ,then before the Sargent could answer, Patterson waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, I'm sure you are, now, as you know – I'm having some – issues – with some of the landowners around here. Especially, those Godless animals...I thought my offer was extremely fair...yet they refused."

Feeling confidant, Patterson grinned. “Surrender your farmstead and lands – or - “

“Quite," Patterson smiled in reply. “Very fair I think, well – I made the offer for a certain farmstead, and I have been refused Now, it is time to put the collar on these animals – make them bow down to the true power in Stringybark! I will not be defied, not by them! Who is your choice, for some rather..."

Patterson left it unsaid, but the Sargent grinned wider, as he stroked the stubble on his chin and thought about it.

“I know some who share your ambitions – Sir - “ Sgt. MacGoven nodded. “Constable Sebastian for starters, he enjoys this type of work – almost unnaturally so..."

Patterson's eyes narrowed, as he dredged up the name. “You know I despise these – beasts – Why you have them as your constables, when we have perfectly fine humans, who would do the job better..."

“With all due respect, Sir, those I interviewed for the position were – unsuitable – They wouldn't obey orders, and these – beasts – as you say, they know fear! They work for me, and by proxy, you, out of fear. They know if I desire it – or you order it – I'd kill them in a heartbeat...if they were lucky – if they were not, well..."

Leaving the open ended statement hanging like fire in the air, both men knew exactly what the well meant – more than one anthropomorphic animal had disappeared without a trace, and in the dark of night, it was whispered that they had lingered in suffering for weeks, some even months, before their eventual death..and none of them fared ask what had become of their friends, for fear the Sargent's wrath would descend upon them.

“I do not want any loose ends Sargent – my plans are developing nicely – I have heard that the railway is only two hundred and ninety miles away now...at their estimated work pace, it'll be here at Stringybark within three years! Three short years – and we will finally have a reliable link to the capital, instead of the three month trip on bad roads and with the threat of bushranger's and worse out there! Three years, and as such, my plans need to be – accelerated – accordingly..."

“I understand completely, sir!" Sgt. MacGoven nodded. “When do you want the forced evictions to take place? Shall we be more – judicial – in such?"

Patterson thought for a moment, twirling the wine in the glass again, before taking a deep drink and nodding. “I leave such things in your capable hands Sargent...after all, if they come to me and put me on the stand, I can say with all fairness, I knew nothing about what happened – I offered – a fair compensation...they accepted, and left Stringybark...what happened to them after that? I do not know, nor do I care!"

With a sadistic chuckle, Patterson put his empty wine glass down, then nodded. “Of course, there is no chance I would ever be brought up on charges – you'll see to that yourself – personally – won't you, Sargent? After all, your man controls the mail in the telegraph office, doesn't he?"

“Yes sir, he does – a good, loyal man – for whom your payments have been – most generous, I'm sure. No word has left via the coaches, implicating you in any wrongdoing – it is as you have asked. You made a generous offer to buy their lands, they accepted and – left – Stringybark. No one knows the truth, and even if one of those beasts, made it alive to Melbourne..."

“Indeed," Patterson nodded. “You have full discretion, Sargent – now, leave me – I want to hear of your success by nightfall tomorrow. Do what you like with them, I don't give a damn...I just don't – want to know exactly what you do, just – do it...and no witnesses!"

Feeling like a dog that had been given a treat from his master, Sgt. MacGoven snapped his heels together, then saluted Patterson and left his expansive residence, already planning the events that would unfold tomorrow. Indeed, it promised to be a most – exhilarating experience – one Sgt. MacGoven enjoyed, and he knew, Constable Sebastian would who heartedly enjoy...

To Be Continued...