Moonstone Cowboy

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Come with us now on a journey to… The Wild West and the town of Moonstone. Vince is the cute cowboy with a big heart and an even bigger wardrobe. Howard is the dark and lamenting Sheriff trapped in an emotional cycle of guilt and need. In a world that’s like, but not like, the Boosh we know and love anything can happen (AU). But mostly our lads get in loads of bother. There’s plenty of mature imagery peeps so M+ for sex, violence, hurt/comfort, darkness, slash, angst etc.

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Running

Contents

Running

Howard opens one eye groggily. He closes it, takes a long breath, and then opens both. Sunlight is streaming into the jailhouse. He vaguely wonders what time it is. He sighs happily before rolling onto his back and stretching his spine. Ahh, it feels good. He stretches his arms out above his head, and then, hang on, he pauses mid-stretch, something’s not right…

Howard bolts upright. “Vince! Vince! Where are you?”

“Back here Howard.”

Monty’s voice. Thank god. Howard sighs in relief and raises himself from the couch, bones creaking as he does so. He stretches again before making his way to the cells.

He looks in on Bobby Fossil who’s sitting at the pillow end of his cot bed, his back against the wall and gently humming to himself. Bobby raises his head as the Sheriff approaches.

“I’ll get you some food soon Fossil and then we can have that little talk.”

Fossil doesn’t stop humming, he just stares blankly back at Howard. The Sheriff frowns. He’s beginning to worry that maybe arresting Bobby wasn’t the best idea. Still it’s done now.

Laughter from the other cell redirects his attention and he walks to the doorway of his bedroom. In the light of day he can see more clearly how well Monty and Eleanor have tidied the place up. He’s silently thankful for it, there’s no blood evident anywhere.

But he’s more thankful for the other sight that transfixes him now.

Vince and Monty are standing facing the mirror, smiles beaming across their faces. Monty is lightly supporting Vince under his elbow, but the younger man looks incredibly well considering. He’s posing, hand on one hip, dressed and booted and a scarlet scarf curling around his slender neck. Howard notices an assortment of other scarves laying across Monty’s arm.

“You two having fun?”

Vince grins even wider at him in via the mirror, but the sparkle of his blue eyes is unable to fully mask a layer of pain beneath. Howard gives him a concerned smile back.

“You look better for getting some sleep Howard. Vince and I didn’t want to wake you so we thought we’d check out these clothes properly. I’d forgotten what was here to be honest, and christy knows if I can still fit into half of it. I think the Deputy might be getting some of these things for keeps.”

Vince is still smiling at Howard. “Do you like the scarf?”

That croak in his voice startles Howard yet again, although perhaps it sounds a bit softer than it did last night. He nods a little sadly at Vince, knowing the reason behind the garment and therefore unable to say much else. Vince eyes water slightly at the Sheriff’s reaction and he looks quickly away. Howard mentally kicks himself.

“Monty, do you mind if…?”

Monty’s already passing the scarves to Howard. “Of course not my boy, of course not. I think it’s time for coffee and eggs anyway don’t you? My stomach thinks my throat’s…” he falters, realising where that sentence is going, “…well no maybe not that, anyway, don’t mind me.”

Howard pulls the hanging drapes tightly across the door and bars as Monty leaves and turns back to Vince. The Deputy’s still got his back to him, but he’s no longer looking in the mirror. Instead he’s standing with his head bowed, one hand clinging to the mirror’s frame, the red scarf dangling from the fingers of his other.

Howard drops the scarves he’s holding across the lid of a chest and moves up behind Vince. He very gently wraps his long arms around the younger man’s body and places his mouth to Vince’s ear.

“Should you really be upright?”

He feels Vince shrug beneath him.

Howard moves his arms away and takes Vince’s hand, leading him through the hanging throws and to his bed. Vince winces as Howard lowers him to a seated position but he doesn’t say anything. Howard grabs a chair from the corner of the room, sits himself down in front of Vince and begins to undo the buttons on the Deputy’s shirt.

Vince sits quietly, his head slightly turned away and down, his gaze fixed to a point on the floor.

“I need to see Vince.”

Vince nods.

“I need to see in the light. I need to know how bad.”

Vince nods again but this time looks up at Howard. His eyes are still a little watery but Howard can see he’s refusing to let himself cry.

“Monty told me what you did. He told me exactly what you did to save me.”

It’s Howard’s turn to nod.

“Thank you. It was very brave.”

“You’d have done the same for me.”

“Not sure I’d have been able to carry you all the way back here though.”

Howard’s grins weakly at the image.

He peels Vince’s now opened shirt slowly away from his body and off his arms. With his torso suddenly exposed Vince feels peculiarly vulnerable and he instinctively wraps his arms across himself. Howard takes his wrists.

“Please, I need to see.”

Vince allows his arms to be moved away. He stares at Howard, searching the Sheriff’s expressions for any sign of distaste or aversion. He sees nothing of the sort.

Howard runs his fingers gently along Vince’s collarbone and across the red welts that circle his neck. Vince shudders slightly but not in pain. It feels nice and soothing, cooling almost. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to take pleasure in Howard’s touch.

The Sheriff doesn’t stroke the bruised areas of Vince’s ribcage or stomach. He can’t bear to out of fear he might hurt him, but he draws an outline around them and commits each mark and reddened patch to memory. He wants to keep a proper eye on them to make sure they all heal as they should.

“Can you stand up for me?”

Vince opens his eyes and raises himself to his feet. Howard stands with him, pushing the chair backwards out the way. “You alright?”

“Yeah.”

“I just want to check your legs too. That’s okay?”

“Uh-huh.”

Howard undoes Vince’s trousers, lowers them to get a look at Vince’s bruised thighs, and then raises them again. Finally he spins Vince to study his bandaged up back. A little blood has seeped through one of the dressings but most of the scratches look far less angry than they had the day before.

Satisfied he’s seen all he needs to Howard sits Vince back down on the bed and pulling the shirt around the Deputy’s shoulders. He sits down next to him and takes Vince’s hand in his.

“So this is what’s going to happen today. We’re going to get ourselves some breakfast, then I expect Doctor Bamshoot will be around shortly, and I also expect we’ll have a few other guests throughout the day. If at any point it’s all too much you tell me and I’ll get rid of them.”

“Okay. What about Bobby Fossil though? Have you asked him about the knife yet?”

“Not yet no. I will do straight after breakfast though.”

“We can do it together.”

“I don’t think you’re up to it.”

“Let me be the judge of that. I know you’re worried about me, but really I’m alright. Yes most of me hurts and my throat feels like I’ve swallowed a cactus, but I was there remember, with Fossil and Joey and the knife. It might be better coming from me.”

“We’ll see.”

“Howard…”

“Look, get some food inside you first. We’ll go from there.”

“I promise to take things easy, but please don’t block me out in some effort to protect me. That’s not going to help.”

Howard laughs lightly. “Do you know how hard it is for me not to order you straight to bed now? I don’t even think you should be up and dressed.”

“I refuse to be anyone’s burden.”

“You’re not a burden Vince, you’re my…” Howard pauses not quite sure what analogy to use, “…you’re my…”

Vince leans forward and pecks him on the cheek. “Your mine too, and it’s nice to feel protected and cared for by you, but don’t keep me in the dark and don’t smother me. It’s not so nice to feel smothered.”

“Yeah you’re right, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, you haven’t done any of that. I’m just warning you not to leave me out of the investigation okay?”

Howard strokes Vince’s cheek. “Okay little man.”

“Though you can kiss me better anytime you want to.”

Howard smiles and kisses Vince’s forehead before placing a lingering kiss on the Deputy’s lips.

“Yeah, you can do that anytime.”

“You know, you’re right about Fossil, we should talk to him together. And seeing you in this state might help get him to open up. It sort of proves to him why we need to stop Bainbridge.”

“Exactly.”

“Just don’t go straining yourself.”

“We need to catch the murderer. That’s what’s important.”

“Yes, but it’s important to get you well again too.”

Vince removes his hand from Howard’s and brushes the Sheriff’s hair away from his face. “And what about you lawman? It’s less than twenty-four hours since I found you lying semi-conscious at the top of a hill. How’s your head?”

“I’ve not had time to worry about it really, but it’s fine I think. A little tender, but there’s hardly even a bump. Feel.” Howard takes Vince’s fingers and guides them through his hair so he can feel for himself the tiny lump on the top of his scalp.

Vince continues to stroke Howard’s head after Howard has let go. “Your hair is so soft.”

“Hah.”

“It is. It’s softer than rabbit pelt.”

“I think I take after my mother that way. She had beautiful dark brown curls.”

“She’d have to be beautiful to bear someone like you.”

“Don’t be daft.”

Vince pulls his hand from Howard’s hair and instead strokes the inside of the Sheriff’s arm. “I’m not being daft. You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

“Vince, come off it.”

“Stop correcting me Howard. I know what I’m saying and what I mean. You ARE the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”

Howard leans in to kiss Vince again, warm embers floating through him as Vince quietly moans against his mouth.

“You two ready for food?!”

Howard and Vince pull apart, both slightly flushed.

“You’d best do my shirt up for me, it looks like we’ve been up to no good.”

Howard buttons Vince back up, all the way including the collar. He realises why Vince has chosen this particular item. Like the scarf it covers every mark on his neck. It’s only Vince’s cut eyebrow that suggests anything of the day before. Howard shakes his head.

“What?”

“If I’m beautiful then I don’t know which word to use about you.”

The Sheriff ruffles Vince’s hair.

“Oi, not the barnet.”

Howard laughs. “You alright to finish getting ready on your own?”

“Yeah, I’ll go slowly.”

“Good. I need to check those eggs. Monty tries hard but cooking really isn’t his forte.”

“As we discussed then yeah?”

“Sure Howard, I’ll go up the street for some supplies. Leave you both to it for a bit.”

“Vince?”

“Yeah, I’m cool.”

“Okay. Here Monty, hand me that plate.”

Howard loads it with eggs and bread, and pours out a coffee. “C’mon then Vince.”

Monty leaves the jailhouse and closes the door behind him as Howard and Vince make their way up to Bobby Fossil’s cell. Vince opens it and they both enter.

“Here, food as promised.”

Bobby looks at Howard suspiciously for a second before grabbing the plate and greedily guzzling down the contents.

“You gonna eat the plate too Fossil?”

Vince takes the mug of coffee from Howard and moves forward. “It’s Bobby isn’t it?”

Bobby stops chewing to look up into Vince’s face.

“Hi, I’m Vince. We met yesterday down by the railroad, do you remember?”

“Yeah, you’re the new Deputy.”

“That’s right. Here…” Vince holds out the mug. “Slow down a bit yeah, you’re gonna choke.”

“Mm, I get hungry when I’m nervous.”

“There’s nothing to be nervous about Bobby. The Sheriff needs to ask you a few questions.”

Howard exits the cell and then returns with a chair which he drags up close to the side of the bed. Vince backs away to give him room and to lean up against the bars.

Bobby slurps on his coffee.

“Well I’ve given you all night to think about things Fossil so it’s time you give me some answers now. Do you understand?”

Fossil just stares at him from over the rim of his mug.

“Playing dumb’s not gonna cut it this time. Who killed Lance Parrot?”

“I…I…please, I.”

“For fuck’s sake man, grow some balls won’t you. I know you know.”

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“I can’t. He’ll kill me too.

“So you do know.”

“I…no, I can’t.”

“Then you’re happy to hang for him are you?”

Howard internally cringes at having to bring the H word up in front of Vince. He hears the Deputy shuffle slightly behind him. It has to be done though.

“What do you mean?”

“I know you didn’t kill Parrot, but you have the knife so in the eyes of the law all the evidence points at you.”

“The knife?” Bobby’s eyes are huge.

“Yeah the knife. The long, thin sharp one.”

“But…”

“You know the one. It belongs to Joey, but you borrowed it from him.”

“But…”

“You can’t deny it Fossil. The Deputy saw you pick it up. He heard you talking about it.”

“But…”

“Lance’s blood was all over it.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Wasn’t what?”

“It wasn’t all over it. It was clean.”

Howard pauses, allowing Bobby time to realise his mistake. Bobby starts to tremble.

“Sheriff please!”

Howard shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but if you don’t tell me then you will hang for this.”

“I can’t. He knows I’m here and he’ll get me. Somehow he’ll get me.”

“You’re dead anyway.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Oh I think I do, but let me elaborate a little more. Do you know what it feels like to die by hanging Fossil? Do you have any idea?”

Howard tries not to let the image of Vince being pulled upright by the rope invade his thoughts. He keeps his glare cold, swallowing down any emotion as best he can. “Would you like to see?” Howard beckons Vince forward. “Show him Deputy.”

Vince takes a breath and undoes the top of his shirt. He flicks his hair out of the way and stretches his neck, exposing to Bobby the rope burn marks that spiral around it.

“What? How?”

“Vince here nearly died last night Fossil. He nearly died because folks thought he murdered Lance. They strung him up and nearly killed him for a murder he did not commit. Tell him Deputy.”

“The Sheriff’s telling the truth Bobby.”

“But, you didn’t kill Mr. Parrot.”

“No I didn’t, and neither did you, but it doesn’t matter does it? You look guiltier than I did. This will happen to you too, except I don’t think you’ll be as lucky as me to survive it. I at least have the law on my side. All you have is the knife.”

Vince does his shirt back up and returns to leaning on the bars. Fossil stares after him.

Howard pokes him in the chest. “Fossil. Who killed Lance Parrot?”

“I don’t want to hang.”

“And I don’t want to hang you, now who killed Lance Parrot?”

“Really Sheriff, please.”

“Should I go get Joey? Maybe he can tell me?”

“No, he doesn’t know anything.”

“But he knows his knife was used.”

“Yes, no, he’ll…”

“He’ll hang too most likely.”

“But you can’t!”

“Yes I can! I am the Sheriff.”

“Not Joey. He’s got nothing to do with this.”

“You’re gonna have to give me a little more than that.”

“I can’t. Mayor Bainbridge will…”

“Mayor Bainbridge will what?”

“He’ll know. I can’t please Sheriff. You know what he’s like.”

“What’s he like?”

“Please!”

“Fossil for fuck’s sake! What’s Bainbridge like?”

“He’ll kill me.”

“He’ll kill you like he killed Parrot?”

“No, he didn’t, I…”

“Did he kill Parrot?”

“I. No, please stop.”

“Fossil tell me!

“I can’t! I CAN’T!!”

“Tell me goddamn you!” Howard springs forward and slaps the mug out of Bobby’s hands sending it crashing to the floor. Hot coffee splatters across the bed and across Bobby’s arms.

“Aargh! Ow!”

Vince steps forward and lays a hand on Howard’s shoulder. “Sheriff, maybe you’d best step out for a minute or two.”

Howard glares at the bank manager before turning on his heel and walking quickly out of both the cell and the front door.

Vince turns back to Bobby. “You okay?”

“He burnt me.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” Vince points to the end of the bed. “May I sit?”

Bobby nods.

“Look, I know you’re scared, Mayor Bainbridge is a scary man, but you’ve got to tell the Sheriff what you know. He’s not lying. You will hang for this.”

“But if I tell him I’ll still die.”

“If you tell him then we can protect you. If you tell him then we can arrest the real murderer instead and you’ll be free to go.”

“But Bainbridge will still be around.”

“Maybe we’ll arrest him too.”

“For what?”

“You tell me. What can we arrest him for?”

Bobby shrugs. “He’s my friend.”

Vince looks at him with both pity and pride. Loyalty to another man is always admirable, even in the most dismal of circumstances.

“He’s not your friend Bobby. Men like the Mayor don’t have friends.”

“But he looks after me.”

“He treats you like a dog and you know it. When was the last time he had a drink with you, shared a meal, or told you a joke?”

“He’s not like that.”

“But that’s what real friends do.”

Bobby nods towards the door. “Are you and the Sheriff friends?”

“Yes, yes we are.”

“He rescued you last night didn’t he?”

“Yes he did.”

“Risked his life for you?”

“I think so Bobby yeah, but I was in pretty bad shape. I don’t really remember much.”

“I saw him carry you in.”

“Yep.”

“I’m not sure if the Mayor would do the same for me.”

Vince feels a sudden empathy for the bank manager. He is, after all, watching the man’s life come crashing down. The Deputy moves a little further up the bed towards Bobby and puts a comforting hand on his leg. “I tell you what, why don’t I have a word with the Sheriff, see if I can’t get him to do a deal with you.”

“A deal?”

“Well what say you give us some snippet of information, some little nugget of truth that will help us pin something on Mayor Bainbridge?”

“He didn’t kill Parrot.”

“But did he know about it?”

Bobby lowers his head.

“Did he order the kill Bobby?”

There’s a pregnant pause before Bobby nods ever so slowly. Vince’s heart skips a beat. His brain is cheering but he keeps his voice steady, even through its hoarseness.

“And the murderer is still in town too?”

Bobby nods again.

“Look, we need to get Bainbridge off the street and out of office. We need to get the murderer too, but I actually think the Mayor’s the more dangerous at the moment. You’re the only one that can help us Bobby. You must have something you can tell us.”

“How big is something?”

“I dunno. Something that allows us to arrest him, or at least get him out of town.”

“He won’t like that.”

“No I don’t imagine he will, but it’s your best hope isn’t it?”

“Can I go free?”

“Do you want to? We can protect you better if you stay here.”

“I want to go home.”

“Well I’ll have to check with the Sheriff, but I don’t see why not. At least for the time being. You’ve got to give us something solid though.”

“The knife. I’ll give you the knife.”

“That’s good, but we already know you have that. We need something else. A secret maybe. Something that Bainbridge has hidden away or buried in his past.”

Bobby closes his eyes in thought. He keeps them shut as he starts to speak, as if by not looking then he’s not really doing what he’s doing.

“There’s a man who lives in a cave. A magic man.”

Vince frowns. This isn’t exactly what he’s been expecting. Even so he encourages Bobby to continue.

“The magic man knows a lot. He senses things and sees things. The Mayor has visited him a few times.”

“And what exactly does this magic man do for the Mayor?”

Bobby opens his eyes. “He seems to make him happier.”

“What?”

“He helps the Mayor feel better.”

Vince is utterly thrown. He hoped Bobby would tell him about some misappropriated property or the site of a buried body. This stuff about a magic man is plain weird.

“I’m not sure if I follow you Bobby. I’m not sure I can believe all that.”

“It’s true, I swear, and I can prove it.”

“How?”

“I can take you to see him. I know where the cave is.”

Vince looks at him skeptically.

“I do. He took me with him once. He made me wait outside, but I know where it is.”

Vince sighs deeply. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell the Sheriff. You can take him to see your magic man.”

“No! It has to be you.”

“What?”

“I trust you. And if you’re with me then the Sheriff won’t do anything rash.”

Vince raises an eyebrow. Maybe Bobby wasn’t always as slow witted as he appeared.

The Deputy puts out a hand as an offer to shake. Bobby stares at it for a second before grasping it firmly.

“Okay, you have yourself a deal. You tell the Sheriff where the knife is and you take me to meet this magic man, and I’ll make sure you don’t hang for Lance Parrot’s murder. Agreed?”

“Yeah, agreed.”

The two men shake.

“But Bobby you still need to tell us who murdered Lance.”

Bobby looks Vince square in the eye and gives him a thin smile. “No, because once you meet with the magic man I won’t need to tell you anything.”

“So did that work?”

“Yeah kinda.”

“Kind of?”

“Well he admitted that Dixon Bainbridge ordered the murder.”

“He did? Wow, that’s huge.”

“Yeah!”

“And the murderer?”

Vince shakes his head. “Sorry Howard, he wouldn’t say. He’s going to give us the knife though.”

“Right, good. Why won’t he tell us the murderer though? He must be scared of something. But then why tell us about Bainbridge? I don’t get that?”

Vince shrugs.

“I dunno. Maybe he’s waiting to see if we come good on our bargain before he tells us.”

“What bargain?”

“Err, yeah, I sort of told him he could go free.”

“You did?”

“Yes.”

“Was that wise?”

“He knows the risks.”

Howard rubs his temple. “Okay I guess. If that’s what he wants. And he didn’t say anything else? Nothing about why Lance was killed?”

Vince looks Howard straight in the eyes and shakes his head again. He hates lying to him, but he can’t tell him about Fossil’s magic man. Not yet. For a start there is no way Howard will let him go with Bobby to the cave, not in his condition. And Vince has no idea whether this magic man is a fake, a phony or just a figment of Fossil’s imagination. He wants to check it out before involving Howard in a goose chase. The Sheriff has enough to contend with already.

But aside from all that Vince wants to prove himself. Prove he’s fit to work and prove his worth. He can’t help feeling a little guilty that he’d managed to get himself caught by Bainbridge’s men so easily. That bloody Lillian White girl. If only he hadn’t let her in. How stupid a move was that?

Yes, he has to prove, not just to Howard, but to everyone that he is capable of looking after himself. Bruises and cuts aside, he has to do this.

Howard’s looking back at Vince slightly quizzically and the Deputy feels himself start to redden. Does Howard know something’s amiss?

“So how’d it go boys?”

Vince turns away from Howard at the welcome sound of Monty’s voice. “Alright we think.”

Howard pulls his gaze away from his deputy. He senses something unusual in Vince’s body language but decides to dismiss it for now. “Yes Monty, we’ve had some luck. Don’t want to tell you too much though you understand.”

“And I don’t want to hear it Sheriff. I’m quite happy being kept in the dark until you need me to know.”

“What you got there Mr. Flange?”

The actor reaches the steps to the veranda, dragging behind him a huge Hessian sack. Howard helps him up with it.

“Actually it’s a few more bits and bobs for you my lad. There’s some more shirts with high collars, a couple of hats, a holster.”

“Holster?”

Monty reaches into the sack and pulls out a black holster belt adorned with shining nickel stud work and a beautifully engraved buckle. He hands it to Vince.

“I can think of no-one more suited to wear this.”

Vince takes the belt almost fearfully and runs his fingers across the finery of the etched leather. He puts a finger through one of the bullet loops.

“Well if you’re going to be the Deputy Vince then you’ll definitely be needing a gun. It goes with the job I’m afraid.”

Vince looks up at Howard. “I can shoot you know.”

“You can?”

“Yes Howard. I’m quite good as a matter of fact.”

“Oh, right, sorry, I just assumed…”

Vince smiles. “It’s okay, I’m not offended. I don’t carry a gun because I’ve never felt the need to. Plus I don’t like them very much.”

Vince looks back at the belt and starts to wrap it around his hips, but he jerks to a stop as the muscles in his shoulder burn.

Monty steps forward. “Here, let me.”

“Thanks Monty. This is a beautiful holster. Are you sure you’re happy to part with it?”

“Oh yes my boy. My shooting days are far behind me. Besides, with things being as they are and with all that’s happened, you need to be able to defend yourself properly.”

“I’ll go sort you out a short barrel today Vince. I want you to be armed as quickly as possible.”

“Thanks.”

“I’ll pick up a couple of extras too. And a rifle.”

“You don’t need to overdo it Howard.”

“On the contrary I think I do. One way or another things are going to come to a head with Bainbridge. We can’t be too careful, or too defended.”

Monty finishes doing up the holster and steps back. Howard takes a sharp intake of breath.

“Wow!”

“Do I look alright?”

“You look more than alright Vince.”

The only thing sparkling brighter than the silver studs are Vince’s eyes. He stands with a huge smile on his face, hair lapping at his cheeks in the soft breeze, his thumbs hooked through the belt. His left foot is turned slightly inward in a manner somewhere between innocent and mischievous. What Monty wouldn’t give to see Vince up on a stage under lights. Why the lad would break hearts!

Monty looks at Howard who has a smile on his face bigger than Vince’s. The two men are looking at each other with eyes so full of devotion it’s a natural reaction for Monty to start smiling too.

Smiles all around until Vince suddenly keels forward. “Aargh!”

“Vince!”

Howard and Monty both rush forward to grab him before he sinks to the ground.

“I’m alright. I’m alright.”

“Christ, you’re not alright.”

“I am, it’s…aargh!”

“Vince?”

“Yeah, ow, yeah. I’m fine, a spasm. Shit, that hurt. I’m okay. Just need to…argh…go indoors maybe?”

“Can you walk?”

“Yep.”

“I knew you were straining yourself.”

“I’ll go and get Doctor Bamshoot.”

“Thanks Monty, do you mind? I don’t want to leave him.”

“Stop fussing, I said I’m good.”

“Vince shut up and lean on me for goodness sake. And yes Monty, the Doctor please.”

“I’ll be as quick as I can.”

Monty leaves the sack on the veranda and scurries away towards the main street as quickly as his ageing legs can take him.

“Right you, inside now!”

Howard clamps his arm around Vince’s waist and practically carries the younger man back into the jailhouse and toward the bedroom cell. Bobby Fossil jumps up to his bars as they pass.

“What’s wrong with him? Is he alright?”

“No Fossil he’s not. He’s had two tonne of shit kicked out of him and was nearly lynched in front of an angry mob. Of course he’s not fucking alright!”

Vince squeezes the Sheriff’s arm. “Howard, go easy yeah. It’s not Bobby’s fault.”

“Of course it’s his fault. It’s all their fault.”

“Sheriff I’m sorry.”

“It’s a little late for apologies don’t you think. You try saying that to the corpse of Lance Parrot, see what he thinks of your fucking ‘sorry’…”

“Please Howard, leave him alone.”

“…you make me sick, all of you, thinking you can behave however you goddamn like. Well I won’t put up with it any more Fossil…”

“I need to lie down.”

“…this is it, the line in the sand. From now on I’m not taking yours or Bainbridge’s or anybody’s crap anymore you hear!”

“Ugghh.” Vince slumps heavily against Howard’s side causing the Sheriff to quickly refocus his attention.

“Shit!”

Howard scoops Vince up and rushes him through to his bed, laying him down gently. He hurriedly undoes the gun holster, pulls off Vince’s boots and loosens his shirt and pants. He scours Vince’s torso looking for any sign of change amongst the rainbow of bruises.

Vince puts a hand on his head. “Relax.”

“Where does it hurt? Tell me. Is it your chest? Can you breathe? Is it your stomach? Can you feel pain in your stomach?”

“It hurts just because it hurts. Nothing’s changed. I’m alright. Please calm down a bit yeah.”

“You will keep scaring me Vince.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“And you’re sure there’s no new pain.”

“I promise there’s no new pain. I think I was standing up too long. I’m fine now. I got a little woozy.”

“Christ sake”

“I know, I’m a bit of a shambles aren’t I?”

Howard kneels down beside the bed and strokes Vince’s hair affectionately. “Yeah you are, you’re a right goddamn mess, but at least you’re my mess.”

“Your mess. Is that right?”

“Don’t you want to be?”

Vince closes his eyes, Howard’s strokes suddenly making him feel sleepy. “Sheriff Moon, there is nothing in this world I want to be more.”

Howard’s not used to worrying so deeply about another individual. He paces back and forth along the veranda like an expectant father.

“Howard please come and sit down. You’re making me dizzy.”

Monty’s pitching back and forth in a rocking chair, one of two that had suddenly appeared among a flurry of visitors during the last couple of hours. At least Howard wouldn’t have to worry about preparing food for the next few days, Eleanor had seen to that. His cupboard is laden with bread and dried meat and liquor and fresh water. Sally Glister had been kind enough to make a few repairs to both his and Vince’s torn clothing, and Jack Tucker had dropped in some of the finest shaving soap this side of the Mississippi. Howard should be feeling more at ease than he is, but whilst Doctor Bamshoot is attending to Vince, and whilst he is banished to outside because of his constant fussing, he cannot rest.

“You’re going to wear away the wood you know.”

“I can’t help it. Why’s the Doctor taking so long? I’m going back inside to check.”

“No, leave him.”

“But what’s he doing?”

“A thorough examination I’d say.”

“Why so thorough? Do you think something’s wrong? I knew it, I knew Vince was hiding something earlier. There’s something he wasn’t telling me. He must have been in more pain than he was letting on. Oh god what if he’s seriously injured inside his body? What if it’s untreatable? I would never forgive myself.”

“For goodness sake man, calm yourself down. You spoke to Vince didn’t you? It’s not like he was unconscious was it?”

“No but…”

“No buts about it. The Doctor will be out soon enough. Now sit down!”

Howard shakes his head as he lowers himself into the chair beside his friend.

“Howard, talk to me. Why are you so uptight again?”

“I dunno. I thought I was alright but then…” Howard shrugs, “…I feel very anxious, the truth be told. It’s like the calm before the storm. Well if you can call what’s happening to Vince calm. Something’s going to happen. You know it and I know it. Oh to be a fly on the wall of Bainbridge’s offices right now.”

“Mmmm, unfortunately I have to agree with you. Dixon Bainbridge will not let this lie, especially if he starts seeing the townsfolk siding with you.”

“That’s what I’m most scared of, repercussions toward Jack and Jean Claude, or Mr. and Mrs. Hopkins, or, God help me, you and Vince.”

“You’ll worry yourself into an early grave Howard. We’re all grown-ups you know, capable of making our own decisions.”

“But most people don’t have the threat of The Piper Twins looming over their decision making do they?”

Monty lets out a sigh. “I don’t think there’s any easy answer, but only you can decide whether to sit back and wait or to be proactive. This may be about whoever makes the first move.”

“Or who doesn’t.”

“Exactly. But you’ve Vince to help you make that decision. And me of course.”

“Yeah I know. And I’m thankful for it. Still, I’ve been wondering whether I should get an outsider involved. Get in touch with a circuit court judge perhaps.”

“Have you enough evidence to present yet?”

Howard rubs his eyes. “Enough to convict Bainbridge? Nowhere near.”

“So what’s the point in contacting the court?”

“Advice.”

“Advice at the risk of jeopardising a trial later? I’m not sure about that Howard. You get a judge out here you might be opening yourself up to scrutiny too.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I just wish I knew a bit more about the law. I feel a bit out of my depth.”

“You’re the Sheriff, that’s all the law you need.”

“That’s how it used to be back in the old days. My badge was all it took then. There were none of these lies and manipulations. You warned a guy and if he took no notice it was either jail or a gunfight. Now it’s all papers and permissions and certifications. Back then you wanted a fella out of town you shot him out.”

“It may still come to that.”

“Don’t even joke about that Monty.”

“Well it’s you who wants to go off and buy half the town’s guns.”

The two men fall into a heavy silence. Howard stands and starts pacing again. He’s about to turn to Monty with a further question when suddenly the sound of the town bell peals out across Moonstone.

Monty stands too.

“What the hell?”

“I dunno.”

“When was the last time the bell was used?”

“Outside of celebration I couldn’t even tell you.”

Monty begins to descend the steps from the veranda. “I’ve got a really bad feeling about this.”

As Monty’s foot touches the dirt a young boy comes racing around the corner from the direction of the main street.

“Mr. Flange, Sheriff Moon, come quick. Fire! There’s a fire!”

Monty rushes forward and stops the boy in his tracks. He grasps the lad’s shoulders. “Where’s the fire son? Where?”

Monty knows the answer before it leaves the boy’s lips.

“The theatre Mr. Flange. It’s your theatre.”

Monty straightens up and turns back to Howard, his face completely drained of colour. Howard rushes down the steps and grabs the boy’s shirt front.

“Are you sure it’s the theatre?”

The young lad looks up fearfully into the Sheriff’s eyes. “Yes Sheriff Sir. It’s the theatre alright. I saw the flames myself.”

Howard loosens his grip on the boy’s shirt and instead puts his hand on Monty’s shoulder.

“O Christ. Monty I’m so sorry.”

“We need to go Howard, we need to go now. We can put it out. We must put it out, but we must go now.” Monty shakes off Howard’s hand and starts running towards his home, the boy running alongside him.

Howard pauses for a moment to look back at the jailhouse. Is this some sort of ruse? A trap? A way to split them all up? He looks back to Monty as his friend rounds the corner and disappears from view. He looks back again to the jailhouse.

“Vince.”

He says his Deputy’s name out loud as if somehow Vince might hear him and give him permission to go. He has to go, he knows that. Monty needs him. And Vince is with the Doctor, he’s hardly alone. One might say he is in the best possible hands. But still Howard senses something not quite right with the whole thing. His nerves coil inside his stomach.

“I’ll be back soon Vince,” he says to nobody as he turns and runs after Monty. He really has no choice.

Howard and Monty can smell the blaze before they see it. Halfway along the street their noses pick up the smell and it quickens their pace.

Fire. The one thing guaranteed to assault all five senses at once. But sight in particular, oh the sight that now presents itself to Monty as he struggles breathlessly around the final bend. His precious theatre is literally glowing orange as flames try to make good their escape through windows and the weaker parts of the roof. Monty pushes through the crowd of people, through the buckets and the hands and the sloshing of water and makes straight for the front door, but Howard grabs him just in time.

“No Monty!”

“But my theatre!”

“You can’t go in there. You won’t come out.”

Howard tries to pull Monty back from the doorway, but the actor shows a surprising amount of strength and pushes him away. He’s bright red from the exertion of running, and there are huge tears running down his cheeks leaving marks in the soot that’s already forming there. His wispy grey hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat. But instead of charging through the door Monty drops to his knees where he stands, his cane slipping from his hands in the process. From his mouth comes a desperate wail. The Sheriff grabs the actor again, firmer this time.

“Please Monty. You have to come away.”

From somewhere in the crowd Lucien Hopkins arrives at Howard’s side and both men manage to drag Monty to his feet and away from the heat of the blaze. Eleanor joins them and takes Monty by the arm.

“Here pet, step back. The men will put it out you’ll see. Come over here with me.”

Monty allows himself to be led, silent now and clearly in shock. Howard swallows down a sob of his own and turns his hands instead to joining the bucket bearers who are relentlessly throwing water onto the flames. From somewhere inside comes a loud crash as timber gives way. Logically Howard knows there’s little hope for the old building, but maybe, just maybe he can save some of Monty’s possessions.

He jumps out of the line and sprints down the side of the building. He can hear Lucien yelling after him but he ignores it. At the far end of the side wall he knows there’s another door. Howard puts his hand upon it and, when feeling no heat from inside, he slowly pushes it open and steps in. He’s entering what used to be a reception room before Monty cleared it out. It’s empty now save for a couple of old billboards advertising plays long since forgotten. From this room there’s a short corridor which leads to the old dressing rooms, rooms which have since become Monty’s private quarters. He hurries along to the first room and looks about him. Nothing valuable here. Howard knows he needs to go right to the back of the building, to Monty’s bedroom, in order to save anything of importance.

Another loud crack and bang reverberates around the building and the faint smell of smoke drifts to Howard’s nostrils. The fire must be making its way to the back of the building also.

Spurred on Howard dashes to the end of the corridor and turns right at a bend that leads directly to the door of Monty’s bedroom. He takes half a second to smile at the ‘Star’ sign still painted on the outside before he opens it and rushes in. He looks around him again, this time overwhelmed by how much stuff Monty has managed to pack into the relatively small space. He has no time to be too choosy.

The Sheriff picks up what looks like a juggler’s baton from the side dresser and smashes out Monty’s bedroom window before grabbing handfuls of clothes and books and jewellery and ornaments and whatever else his hands meet with, and chucking them unceremoniously through the opening. He hears some things smash but he’s not time to worry about that now, the smell of smoke has reached him again. The fire must be licking at the door that separates the reception room from the main auditorium. He grabs more clothing, a framed picture, a harmonica, a pile of banded papers, a parasol, literally anything he can put his fingers around, and he keeps on throwing them outside.

A sudden roar and Howard concludes that the fire is through the door. The building will not be saved now.

The Sheriff spins on the spot trying to work out if there’s anything more of value when his eyes settle on a small silver jewellery box on a side-table. He grabs it but something makes him pause before he lobs it out of the window. He shakes it and there’s a responding soft jangle. His curiosity peaking he lifts the lid.

A key. Quite an ordinary looking key by all accounts, fairly small and without adornment. Howard picks it out of the box and turns it in his fingers. Why would Monty have a key kept in a velvet lined silver box? He frowns, returns the key, closes the lid and pockets it. Something tells him it’s too important to throw out of the window with the other paraphernalia.

Howard looks around himself once more as smoke starts to appear from along the corridor. His eyes start to water immediately and he rushes forward to close the door against it. He grabs one final handful of items from the desk drawer, pulls a chair up to the window and jumps through, narrowly avoiding landing on top of a Chinese vase, but managing to keep his balance. Now outside he begins to push everything away from the building, loosely sorting the items into corresponding piles as he goes.

“Sheriff! Sheriff!”

Lucien’s voice. Howard suddenly realises they must think him inside. He pushes all the items an extra couple of metres away from the back of the theatre and circles around the flank, keeping as far away from the wall as he can. He can feel the heat radiating off of it and he knows that once the back rooms submit to the flames then the roof will collapse also. He does not want to be alongside the theatre when that happens.

“Sheriff!”

“Here Lucien.”

“Sheriff!”

“Here, I’m here.” Howard springs out from the side of the building as an enormous crash sends everybody fleeing backwards. Flames shoot upwards through the gulping crater that now sits in the middle of the theatre, a crater so large it’s as if hell itself has opened its front gate.

Lucien trots over to Howard’s side. “Sheriff are you okay?”

“Yes I’m fine. Where’s Monty?”

“He’s still with my wife Sheriff, over by the station. He’s pretty quiet but Doctor Bamshoot is with him now so…”

“Doctor Bamshoot?”

“Yes.”

“What’s the Doctor doing here?”

“Well he’s…um he’s….what do you mean?”

“The Doctor, what the hell’s he doing here Lucien?”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

Howard grasps Lucien’s shoulders and shakes the startled man, “He’s not supposed to be here! Why is he here?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure. I…”

But Howard doesn’t wait for Lucien to answer. Instead he shoves his way through the still thick crowd and sprints full pelt back along the main street.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

Howard flies around the turn to the jailhouse. The door is closed. He lengthens his gait and takes the steps in one bound, skids along the veranda and bursts into the room.

“Vince!”

Howard darts to the back. The door to Bobby Fossil’s cell is wide open, the cell itself clearly unoccupied. With adrenaline coursing through him Howard rips through the drape covering his own bedroom cell doorway and collapses against the side of his cot bed.

It’s empty.

“Oh god. Oh god. Please no, please Vince no.”

Howard pulls back the dividing curtain but Vince is not in the other bed either. He turns back to his own. The sheet is rumpled where Vince had lain. Howard puts his palm upon it. Still warm. He grabs the pillow and holds it to his face, tears threatening to stream forth as the adrenalin racing around his body is replaced by dread and despair. He starts rocking, his face buried in the pillow, the smell of Vince edging out the remaining stench of the fire.

“No Vince, don’t you dare do this to me again. Don’t you dare. DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!”

The first thing Vince becomes aware of is the smell. It’s all at once musty and metallic and old. Yes, the smell of age. But there are traces of other things, the comforting smell of spices, an aroma akin to boiling rice and something else. Something familiar, and although slightly fetid not altogether unpleasant. It’s something that reminds him of being a happy child.

Vince’s eyelashes flutter as he tries to drag himself into full consciousness. His body feels stiff and achy and he wonders briefly if he’s fainted. But no, this definitely isn’t the jailhouse, and he’s pretty sure he’s standing up. He takes a deep breath and then forces his eyes properly open. Wherever he is it’s dimly lit. He looks about himself, willing the shapes in the room to take form for him. He notices a huge pot hanging above an open flame in a nearby nook. He can make out the smoke spiraling upwards to a hole in the ceiling. No, not a hole, a gap, a crack. And not a ceiling, more like smooth rock. Rock? He squints downwards and can make out the greyish stone appearance of the floor. He tries to press his toes against the hard surface and suddenly realises he can’t. He squirms again but something’s keeping his feet pinned to the spot. Is that rope around his ankles? His brain jolts to alert and a slight panic starts to rise inside of him. Is he tied up? He tries to take a step forward but he cannot move at all. Instead he is met with the jangling sound of chains. He looks upwards only to see that his arms are pulled above his head, his wrists encased in two heavy iron cuffs. He tugs against the chains but they hold firm. The panic burns his throat.

As he looks around him the lines and shades slowly start to make some sort of sense. A barrel, a table, a bench, a bed, a small horse. He shakes his head in surprise. Of course, that smell, the unmistakable smell of horse. The nag looks up at him, feigns some level of interest and then returns to its bucket to munch noisily on whatever’s inside. Vince blinks multiple times. Where the hell is he? He tugs again at the chains, harder still, pulling and twisting and grunting with effort.

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you. You’ll chafe your skin.”

Vince freezes, his huge blue eyes projecting his anxiety. He manages a “Whaaat?”

“I said you’ll chafe your skin.”

Vince screws his eyes trying to focus on the area from where the voice is carrying. There’s a hint of a shape at the outer reaches of the shadow. Vince swallows his fear. “Where am I?”

“You’re in my home.”

The voice that answers is anything but threatening, and Vince feels his trepidation ease slightly. In fact he thinks the voice is soft and quite calming. Although he cannot pinpoint the dialect he can detect a hint of a lisp, a slight impediment that only adds to the voice’s enfolding quality.

As Vince continues to stare into the gloom a small figure slowly comes towards him. He thinks at first it must be a child, but a child doesn’t marry with the voice. And what’s wrong with their head? It seems misshapen and huge. Vince mentally prepares himself to come face to face with some sort of hideous monstrosity, but when the figure finally steps into a patch of light revealed is a relatively small, pale-skinned man with a large gathering of cloth upon his crown. He’s dressed in robes of the most exotic style Vince has ever seen. The man stands still, a pottery pipe in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other. He looks Vince up and down before smiling weakly at the Deputy, taking a puff on his pipe and stepping back out of the light again.

“But who are you?”

Vince loses sight of the figure in the darkness. He listens really hard but cannot make out any sign of movement. He asks again, “Who are you?” and then jumps when the figure suddenly appears right alongside him and says matter-of-factly,

“I’m Naboo, that’s who.”

Running. Was he ever going to stop running? He’d been running from his conscience for what seemed an eternity, running from his responsibilities, his guilt, and his memories. And just four days ago his life had been transformed into something more complete and he’d allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he could stop running now.

But it seems to give up the running of the restless mind one must take up true physical running in the actual world. Proper, real ground-pounding running, the soggy-armpits, slick hair, red-faced and lungs bursting through chest kind of running. Running into danger, running out of it, running to catch and now desperately running to find what he had so foolishly lost.

Vince!

Howard had already checked in at Bobby Fossil’s living quarters behind the bank but there was nothing to suggest either man had been there. So instead he was running again now, back along the main street, past the smoldering theatre, and heading down towards the small train station and hopefully towards Monty and Doctor Bamshoot.

He spots Eleanor first and then Monty seated on a bench with the Doctor crouching in front of him. There seems to be a fairly heated exchange going on between the three of them but Howard can’t make out the full gist of it. As he nears the trio and slows he tries to calm his brain a little. In his urgency to find Vince he mustn’t forget that his best friend has also lost something he loves.

“Sheriff Moon, my goodness where have you been? We’ve all been worried sick about you. Lucien said you’d been inside the building but that you’d then run off like a thing possessed.”

Howard takes a moment before replying, keen to level out his breathing.

“I’m sorry if I worried you Mrs. Hopkins.”

“Well you should see the state of yourself Sheriff. You look like you’ve rolled around in a coal bucket.”

Howard gives her a forced smile and moves towards the two men. The Doctor stands as the Sheriff approaches.

“Mister Flange has had quite a shock Sheriff, but he’s a little recovered now.”

Howard puts a hand on Monty’s shoulder and gives it an affectionate squeeze before turning back to the Doctor. “Where’s Vince?”

Doctor Bamshoot raises an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Deputy Noir isn’t in the jailhouse. Neither is Mr. Fossil. You were the last one with them Doctor. In fact I left you with them. So where are they?”

The Doctor takes a step towards Howard with his palms raised.

“I promise you Sheriff I left Deputy Noir dozing on the bed. As to Mr. Fossil I’ve no idea, I didn’t look in on him. I’d heard the town bell start up at least ten minutes before I left the jailhouse so I knew something bad must be happening. I came straight here and Eleanor rushed me over to help with Mr. Flange.”

Howard stares directly into the Doctor’s eyes.

“Are you telling me the truth Doctor?”

The Doctor stares right back. “Quite frankly Sheriff I am more than a little mortified that you would question me so. I’ve known you for many years. I thought we had a decent amount of mutual respect between us, and equally thought of us both as men of our word.”

Howard nods and softens his stare.

“You’re right, I’m sorry, but Vince isn’t in his bed now.”

The Doctor nods back. “Deputy Noir was in a fair amount of pain when I attended him, but he is in no way bed-bound Sheriff. Maybe he simply stepped out for some reason.”

“No, that isn’t it. I’d have seen him by now and as I say Bobby Fossil’s missing too.”

Monty puts his hand on Howard’s arm. “Howard, do you think Bainbridge has him?”

Howard looks down at his friend and then back at the faces of Mrs. Hopkins and the Doctor. “Apologies but would you two mind if I have a private conversation with Monty here?”

Eleanor gathers up her shawl and bag. “Of course not Sheriff.”

She puts her hand on top of Monty’s. “The offer still stands Mr. Flange. You are welcome to come and stay with me and Lucien for a bit, until, well you know love…”

Monty taps her hand back. “Thank you Mrs. Hopkins. I’m touched by your generosity and will certainly take you up on that offer of a good meal later. Thank you.”

The Doctor steps away alongside Eleanor. “Nothing strenuous Mr. Flange you hear. I’m going back up to the theatre to see if I can help in any way. You probably need to come along when you’re ready.”

Monty nods. “Thank you Doctor and yes, I’ll be along shortly.”

Howard sits down beside his friend. “What were you three discussing when I arrived?”

“Oh they’re just worried about me I guess. I think they reckon this old man isn’t up to hanging about with the likes of you and Vince.”

“They were warning you to distance yourself from all this.”

“In so many words.”

“They’re right you know.”

“Yes, they probably are, but what’s right and what’s required aren’t always the same thing.”

Howard pats Monty on the leg. “I’m sorry about your theatre.”

“I know.”

“I can’t believe he did that to you.”

“Who Bainbridge?”

“Yeah.”

“There won’t be any proof will there?”

“I doubt it but we’ll go through there with a fine tooth-comb Monty. If there’s evidence to be found I’ll find it.”

“But you have more important things to do Howard. You’ve got to find Vince.”

Howard looks down at his hands. “I already did that once? I found him and I rescued him. How the hell could I have been so stupid to have let him go again?”

“Don’t be melodramatic Howard, that’s my job.”

Howard smiles feebly. “I keep on letting him down.”

“You’ve not let him down.”

“I’ve let you down.”

“You’ve done nothing of the sort, and Lucien told me how you risked the flames to save some of my things. Hardly the actions of a weak man Howard.”

“If I’d had acted earlier though…”

“Then I suspect the outcome would have been the same, or worse. What if I’d been sleeping in there?”

“Doesn’t bear thinking about.”

“Exactly.”

“But I don’t know where to start looking for him.”

“You start in the Salty Bullet that’s where. You go and get Bainbridge and you ask him.”

“I can’t storm in there. And anyway he’ll just deny it.”

Monty pulls at Howard to get the bigger man to face him. He puts his hands on Howard’s arms and forces the Sheriff to look him in the eyes. Howard notices for the first time the deep lines that dissect the ageing actor’s face and it suddenly hits home just how mentally and physically exhausted Monty must be.

“The Sheriff Moon I know is a man of action Howard, not a man of indecision and doubt. There is no discussion to be had, you’ve got to go in there and ask your questions. You’ve simply got to in order to get him back.”

“But what if he’s already…” Howard can’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

“Are you going to ask me ‘what if he’s already dead’? Was that what you were going to say?”

“Well what am I supposed to think?”

“Not that!”

“If it was only Vince gone then maybe… but Fossil’s gone too and… it looks bad Monty, really bad.”

Howard starts to turn away, but Monty grabs his chin and pulls him back to face him.

“Do you feel that he’s dead?”

“What?”

“Do you feel it, inside of you, here?” Monty puts his forefinger to Howard’s heart. The Sheriff shivers a little at the touch.

“I want to believe he’s alive, really I do.”

“I’m not asking what you believe Howard, I’m asking what you feel.”

“Well then no Monty, I don’t feel that he’s dead.”

“Good, you cling to that then and you go get him. Go now whilst you’ve still time.”

“Who?”

“Naboo.”

“Naboo!”

“What is it about humans that they must repeat everything that’s said to them?”

“Humans?”

Naboo sighs loudly and scuffles off back into the darkness.

“Hang on a minute where you going? Why’ve you got me strung up like this?”

“It’s for your own good.”

“What?”

“To keep you safe.”

“How’s tying me to your wall by my wrists and ankles keeping me safe?”

“You’ll see.”

Naboo comes back into the light this time carrying a bowl. He is stirring it slowly with the wooden spoon. He moves to about a metre in front of Vince and stands there, stirring and staring and staring and stirring.

Vince is becoming irritated. “Let me down”

“No.”

“Let me down goddamn it.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I need to feed you this.” Naboo holds up the bowl.

“Like hell you are!”

Naboo tuts and moves again out of the light. Vince struggles at his bonds. If he can get one hand free.

“I told you not to do that.”

“What do you care?” Vince carries on struggling.

“I care more than you realise Vince Noir.”

Vince stops moving. “You know my name?”

“Of course.”

“How?”

“I know many things. Your name is one of them.”

“Are you a mind reader?”

“No, I saw your band Clockwork Guns recently. You were very good.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Vince furrows his brow. “You’re Bobby Fossil’s magic man aren’t you?”

“I’m nobody’s man, but yes, I am magic. I’m a Shaman actually, a Shaman simply passing through this world on the way to the next, riding upon the crests of dreams and unfulfilled promises.”

“That’s a bit enigmatic don’t you think?”

“I am a shaman, it’s my job to be enigmatic.”

“Ahuh, right.”

“I am.”

“A shaman! Really?”

“Yes. Why do you doubt me?”

“I dunno, you don’t actually exist do you?”

“Of course we do.”

“So if you’re a shaman and you’re all magical and stuff what are you doing hanging around Moonstone? And why live here in what I can only assume is a cave.”

“I told you this is my home.”

“It’s still a cave.”

“I happen to like it here.”

Vince frowns again. This is getting him nowhere. “Look, I’m going to make an assessment. You’re a magic man living in a cave in the desert. And for some unknown reason you’re caught up with Dixon Bainbridge who’s got you keeping me here prisoner until he decides what to do with me. I don’t know how he snatched me from the jailhouse but clearly he did, and now he’s got you playing at being my prison guard and feeding me gruel so I don’t die on you both. Is that right?”

Naboo keeps stirring. “No.”

“You telling me you don’t work for Bainbridge?”

“Of course I don’t work for Mayor Bainbridge. I already told you I’m nobody’s man.”

“Well then what the hell is going on here because I’ll be damned if I can make head or tail of it?”

Naboo drags a small stool over to in front of Vince. He sits himself down upon it still moving the spoon in large circles around the dish.

Vince glares at him waiting for an answer.

“You humans are so needy. You’re always looking for answers. Always wanting more. You think you’re different Vince Noir but you’re not. You need the same as anybody.”

“Did I say I was different?”

“No, but you think you are. You think of yourself as invincible, as untouchable, but you’re not. You’re as fallible as anyone.”

“I do what I think I should do. I do what I think is the right thing to do.”

“Like loving Howard Moon?”

Vince gapes in astonishment. “What? How do you know about that?”

“I told you I know many things.”

“But you can’t know that. No-one knows that.”

“It’s written all over your heart Vince.”

Vince takes a glance down towards his chest glad to see that his shirt is still done up. He’s never felt more confused. “Since when is loving someone wrong?”

“It’s not, it never is, but it’s going to get you killed.”

“What? I’m sorry but I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me. Are you saying that I have to stop loving Howard because it’s going to get me killed?”

“That love will both save you and kill you.”

“No way. No bloody way! I don’t believe in fate.”

“You think ending up on that mail wagon was anything else?”

“But how do you know about..?” Naboo arches an eyebrow. “That was dumb luck is all. It wasn’t fate.”

“You were always meant to be here Vince. You were always meant to meet Howard. Didn’t you feel it as soon as you saw him, as soon as you spoke to him, as soon as you touched?”

Vince recalls with a flash the lightning bolt that passed through them the first time his hand had accidentally brushed against Howard’s.

“I dunno, I…”

“Admit it, you know there’s something deeper going on here. But knowing it and accepting it are not going to help you save yourself.”

“So what are my options then? Leave? Should I leave?”

“You can’t, you are destined to be here I told you.”

“So I should make Howard leave?”

“That won’t work either.”

“So what then?”

Naboo holds up the bowl. “First you need to eat this.”