Life and Limb (The Ebon Chronicles) Read Online Free Page B

sand toward the hills up North.  Mad as a midwife he is, so I took the horse out from under him and saved his life.  In payment I took the horse here to sell to you here today."
    A gentle chorus of chuckles rose from the crowd along with a few clapping hands.  Jester had won the crowd easily.  Soon he was breaking out his rifle, holding it above his head and bragging about headwinds and shooting with an eye-scope full of sunlight.
    "Like a flea on a light bulb he was," Jester said to the delight of the mass gathering around us, "Racing up Hell's ass like a man condemned."
    More gap toothed laughter from the crowd - those that had seen a light bulb.  They were interested now, a few of them reaching out and staring.  One of the older men leaned his head deep in at the cart with hungry tranquil pools of cataracts dancing above a weathered graveyard of teeth.  I felt a hand on my shoulder,
    "Best get moving," the girl Freezy said helping me up, "Folks make a hole.  Riderman needs a cool cot.  He'll confirm all of Pa's story when he's well."
    We passed through a part in the small crowd, moving to where the old woman was staring beyond us wringing her hands,
    "Flank cuts.  That was the deal," she said, "Smoked."
    "You'll get it," Breezy said as I limped past, "Just give him a spot off the ground.  And take a look at that leg if'n you got the talent.  It's all messed up.  I'll be there in a bit with your pay.  You got a bucket?"
    The old woman, who's name I learned was Anna, lived in a modest adobe and concrete hut like the others in this town.  Inside there wasn't much.  The cot I was laid on was a single piece, built into the wall and covered by thin wooden planks.  Rolled over a nearby line were several fleece blankets.  At the head of the cot was a soft net basket, which I learned served as a hammock to support the head in lieu of a pillow.  The old woman, Anna, explained it with two words: damned fleas.  And then she left the room.
    I leaned back, letting my head hover an inch from the cot, suspended by the net hanging above me.  And so that's what I looked into - that spiderweb pattern leading up to a single black nail in the ceiling.  I waited.  The gun, which no one had attempted to relieve me of, still nestled in its holster.  My palm occasionally touched it to remind me it was still there.  It was small comfort to an odd sort of delirium.
    The next thing that happened, other than the occasional pair of voices running past the open front door, was some time later, close to sunset.  Freezy came in through the front of the hut with a piece of cloth wrapped around some bread and a couple long strips of meat.
    I ate them both without a second thought, downing it with what Freezy called, "Cornstill and water."  Essentially alcohol poured in well water to kill off the less ambitious parasites.  Cornstill wasn't what everyone in town called corn alcohol, but I gathered that the Breezys weren't from around here originally.
    After I had finished, Freezy asked me why I had been riding toward the hills.
    "Those hills," she said, "You know they're outside the purview of reason, right?"
    "A thing landed there," I said, "Something I need to confirm is safe before I can go home."
    "I'll save you a trip," she said taking the cloth and sternly pouring the last breadcrumbs into her pocket,  "It's not."
    "Why?" I asked.
    "Used to live there," she said, "Not too many years ago it was a nice place.  Flat plains and green grass as far as your eyes could go.  Now if I tell you this land south of the hills gets rain, I bet you wouldn't believe me." I shrugged, not sure if she was trying to tell a joke.  She continued, "It does.  Once every now and again we get an eastbound cloud that finds fit to spit on us.  Helps the crops a little, but there's something even more important than that.  It hardens the earth.  Cracks it up, keeps it thirsty and solid.  Up north we stopped getting that rain."
    "Dust storms," I