Read Online Motherlode by James Axler - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: James Axler
Tags: Fiction, Action & Adventure
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windowless structure with adobe walls and a lean-to style roof that looked to be a mix of sheet metal, planks and asphalt tiles that lay behind the playhouse. The creek ran down an arroyo that split the cliffs. A narrow, somewhat steep dirt road ran alongside it.
“Those cliffs aren’t close enough for people to jump on the roof or throw stuff down on it,” Ryan said. “But sharpshooters up there could lay waste to anybody trying to defend from the roof. Plus shoot down through it at an angle that could lay some serious hurt on people inside.”
“At least there aren’t any guards,” Ricky said.
He’d pushed it too far in his eagerness to show off. Jak, cruising a bit ahead of the rest, yipped a laugh like an amused coyote. Then Ricky uttered a surprised yip of his own.
“Ow!”
Ryan looked back. Ricky had ducked his head into the collar of his shirt. J.B. had his left hand up behind the boy’s head, which he had obviously just thwacked with his two upraised fingers.
“What?” Ricky asked.
“No guards that you see, boy,” J.B. said. “Keep mixing that up with there not being any guards, you’ll wind up with dirt hitting you in the eyes before you know what’s what.”
“Oh.”
“Well, Jak,” Ryan called, “you had your laugh. Are there guards?”
“No. Ricky assumed. Made ass.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Mildred said. “The expression is, ‘when you assume, you make an ass out of u and me .’ But that’d require Bayou Boy to use actual prepositions.”
There were plenty of windows, Ryan noted. They looked to be made out of good glass, clear and not too wavy. That made them triple expensive, whether they were scavvy or modern manufacture. Pale curtains hung on the insides—and as they approached the pink-painted wooden door, he could see they were hanging at least three feet in.
Fortress, all right .
“So, do we just walk up and knock?” asked Krysty.
Jak walked up almost to the door, then along the front of the house to the right, where he stopped and peered suspiciously around the corner. From the direction of the pole barn, now out of sight behind the house, a horse or two nickered at the approach of strangers.
Jak leaned back and shook his head. Nobody in sight. He tipped his head slightly to his left. Ryan knew the albino was asking if he should cruise around and check out the back. He shook his head.
“I notice none of the happy peasants came running to alert the big boss man that there were armed and presumed dangerous strangers headed up to his doorstep,” Mildred said. “Maybe the peasants aren’t all that happy with the existing social order, after all.”
“Just because we don’t see any guards, doesn’t mean there weren’t lookouts,” Krysty said. “Also, there’s a reason they call these ‘flats.’ They could have seen us coming a quarter mile away. We don’t know if the peasants didn’t see us and sent word. In fact, I’d be surprised if they didn’t send a kid or two running to tell the baron. Meaning the baron decided we weren’t threatening enough to merit breaking up the workday to go into defensive mode.”
His companions gathered, Ryan stepped up to the door. Its carved wood projected solidity. He reached up to give it an authoritative rap.
The door opened.
Inside stood, or slouched, a slender young man. He wore a loose and dirty off-white smock over dark pants. His brown feet were bare.
He blinked big black eyes at Ryan. His face was a narrow oval, with a hint of puff to the jawline and below the eyes. A dark beard and mustache framed his pouty lips, just past the stubble point.
“What took you so long?” he asked with languid insolence.
Chapter Nine
“We keep our own schedule,” Ryan said. “We’re here to see Baron Sand.”
“Of course you are.” The young man yawned. “Everyone wants to see Baron Sand. And what is that to me?”
Ryan opened his mouth to tell him it was a matter of whether Ryan went past him or
“Those cliffs aren’t close enough for people to jump on the roof or throw stuff down on it,” Ryan said. “But sharpshooters up there could lay waste to anybody trying to defend from the roof. Plus shoot down through it at an angle that could lay some serious hurt on people inside.”
“At least there aren’t any guards,” Ricky said.
He’d pushed it too far in his eagerness to show off. Jak, cruising a bit ahead of the rest, yipped a laugh like an amused coyote. Then Ricky uttered a surprised yip of his own.
“Ow!”
Ryan looked back. Ricky had ducked his head into the collar of his shirt. J.B. had his left hand up behind the boy’s head, which he had obviously just thwacked with his two upraised fingers.
“What?” Ricky asked.
“No guards that you see, boy,” J.B. said. “Keep mixing that up with there not being any guards, you’ll wind up with dirt hitting you in the eyes before you know what’s what.”
“Oh.”
“Well, Jak,” Ryan called, “you had your laugh. Are there guards?”
“No. Ricky assumed. Made ass.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Mildred said. “The expression is, ‘when you assume, you make an ass out of u and me .’ But that’d require Bayou Boy to use actual prepositions.”
There were plenty of windows, Ryan noted. They looked to be made out of good glass, clear and not too wavy. That made them triple expensive, whether they were scavvy or modern manufacture. Pale curtains hung on the insides—and as they approached the pink-painted wooden door, he could see they were hanging at least three feet in.
Fortress, all right .
“So, do we just walk up and knock?” asked Krysty.
Jak walked up almost to the door, then along the front of the house to the right, where he stopped and peered suspiciously around the corner. From the direction of the pole barn, now out of sight behind the house, a horse or two nickered at the approach of strangers.
Jak leaned back and shook his head. Nobody in sight. He tipped his head slightly to his left. Ryan knew the albino was asking if he should cruise around and check out the back. He shook his head.
“I notice none of the happy peasants came running to alert the big boss man that there were armed and presumed dangerous strangers headed up to his doorstep,” Mildred said. “Maybe the peasants aren’t all that happy with the existing social order, after all.”
“Just because we don’t see any guards, doesn’t mean there weren’t lookouts,” Krysty said. “Also, there’s a reason they call these ‘flats.’ They could have seen us coming a quarter mile away. We don’t know if the peasants didn’t see us and sent word. In fact, I’d be surprised if they didn’t send a kid or two running to tell the baron. Meaning the baron decided we weren’t threatening enough to merit breaking up the workday to go into defensive mode.”
His companions gathered, Ryan stepped up to the door. Its carved wood projected solidity. He reached up to give it an authoritative rap.
The door opened.
Inside stood, or slouched, a slender young man. He wore a loose and dirty off-white smock over dark pants. His brown feet were bare.
He blinked big black eyes at Ryan. His face was a narrow oval, with a hint of puff to the jawline and below the eyes. A dark beard and mustache framed his pouty lips, just past the stubble point.
“What took you so long?” he asked with languid insolence.
Chapter Nine
“We keep our own schedule,” Ryan said. “We’re here to see Baron Sand.”
“Of course you are.” The young man yawned. “Everyone wants to see Baron Sand. And what is that to me?”
Ryan opened his mouth to tell him it was a matter of whether Ryan went past him or
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