Page 28 of After 5

“Son of a bitch!” Mortas shook his fist at him and stood staring as Caiyan barreled down the driveway engulfed in a cloud of dust.

“There goes the big to-do,” I whispered as Caiyan sped away.

“He did a pretty good job, if I do say so myself.” Mr. Raney chuckled.

“Where did the sword come from?” Mortas asked.

“Found it in the salvage wagon after the war.”

“Thank you for your time.”

“Don’t you want to hear the rebel yell?”

“No, I have a feeling I’m going to hear it plenty in the near future.”

Mr. Raney huffed. “I thought I’s the last one who knew how to do it?”

Mortas started to leave and then turned. “Did the sword have any words inscribed on the blade?”

“I can’t say I recall,” Mr. Raney said.

George piped up “I think…”

Mr. Raney began one of his coughing fits.

The brigand’s face darkened and a displeased expression twisted his mouth.

“Sorry sir, Papa needs to sit a spell. When he’s had one of his coughin’ fits he best not speak to anyone for a while.”

Mortas stomped off toward his car.

“I’m fine son, just let me rest here and enjoy the breeze.” Mr. Raney sat down on a porch swing hung at the opposite end of the porch.

We watched Mortas enter his car, make a U-turn, and spit dust as he drove away.

George asked his father, “Papa why did you lie to that man about the sword?”

“He ain’t nothin’ but one of them damn Yankee treasure hunters. I can smell them a mile away. If’n he wants to know, he can go see it at the museum. Maybe in his search, he’ll learn a thing or two about the war.”

The porch swing squeaked with the weight of the man and his son as they rocked gently, talking about the nice young reporter from Dallas. Geesh.

Ace and I were stuck in the bushes until the men went inside. My stomach ached with a subtle cramp. A sign the moon cycle creeped to a close and we needed to hurry back to our landing point.

“Would they go back inside already?” Ace companied, “Me ass is sore from sitting here, and I can’t be stuck in this hick town. I’ve got a date tonight.”

“Your ass gets tired easily,” I replied, keeping my voice low.

“I might have had some work done.”

“What kind of work?”

“The surgical kind.”

“You know the WTF doesn’t allow cosmetic surgery, right?” I arched an eyebrow at him.

“I don’t plan on getting shot in the ass.”

“What did you have done?”

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