Dinosaurs of the Unwinnable West

Chapter 1 ~ Flea-bitten Cusses

Heavy pounding rattled the door.

Wake up time!

Hutch, jolted from sleep, scrambled up from the small pallet and fastened his coveralls. He knew this meant trouble. He grabbed his things from the tall shelf—the only piece of furniture in the hotel room aside from the pallet. Thinking fast, he stuffed the package claim ticket, his one valuable possession, into his pocket. He threw the rest, an extra set of clothes and his tattered old hat, into a canvas sack.

We’re here to get you, boy, even if it means busting this door to splinters.

Looking at the door, Hutch could see that it wouldn’t hold for long. With the right tools and a little time, he could try a quick repair on its rattling hinges. But he had neither.

He decided to try something else.

Who is it? he screeched girlishly. Despite his age, almost thirteen, Hutch thought he made a pretty good imitation—not easy with his voice getting deeper every day.

You don’t fool me! I know you’re Henry Heck’s boy.

Hutch cussed to himself. Now he recognized the voice on the other side of the door. It was Kinny, an agent for National Western Enterprises.

National Western’s here to collect on your pa’s debts. You understand me, boy? Kinny shouted. Open up!

When he and his dad first came to Brakes, National Western was waiting. It was Kinny who talked his dad into taking the loan. National Western handed over more money than Hutch thought had ever existed. His dad used it to start a wagon wheel business. At one point, the business built half of the wagon wheels that rolled west of Brakes, but his dad still had trouble keeping up with the loan. Then business went bad when folks stopped buying wagon wheels. After one missed payment, Kinny the collector returned to take everything from the workshop—even his dad.

Shaking those thoughts from his head, he looked around the room to weigh his options. He was on the second story of a rickety building. Outside he saw the dark streets, mostly empty. He could jump, he thought.

Leaning over the windowsill, he looked to the ground below. Will I break one leg or two? he whispered doubtfully.

The pounding continued. Hutch couldn’t hold back anymore. He had to speak.

Kinny, your people took everything from me and my dad. He paid the debt with his life.

My people didn’t get all of what was owed, Hutch. That balance passed on to you, and it’s still below the line. You know the law. Pry open the door, boys.

According to East Kansas Law, debt could pass from father to son just the same as any other inheritance. Hutch was fixed. If the law found him to be a hopeless debtor, he could be conscripted to the Line of Containment just like his dad was.

He needed more time. He had decided against jumping from the window. It would have just gotten him hurt, and he figured he wouldn’t get far from Kinny with a bad leg.

He pushed the pallet against the door. Like the hinges, the pallet wouldn’t hold the door for long, but it could give him the seconds that he needed. The pounding from the other side finally popped one of the hinges. Hutch next moved the shelf in such a position that he could hide behind it. Another hinge popped.

Just before the door burst open, Hutch threw his bag out of the open window. It thudded against the street below.

Kinny and two other men tripped over the pallet. Their eyes were fixed on the open window where they’d heard the thud. Kinny cussed awfully, and he and the men leaned over the windowsill.

At that moment, Hutch kicked the tall shelf as hard as he could. As it fell, it knocked the men over like bowling pins. Kinny slammed into the windowsill and then toppled out of the window. Hutch heard a meaty snap come from below and then another awful cuss.

Before the other two men could get out from under the shelf, Hutch ran through the dark hallway and headed for the steps. Down below was a small saloon attached to the hotel. When he reached the landing above the steps, he could hear Kinny howling and moaning. Kinny must be just beyond the saloon’s swinging doors. Hutch braced himself for the run of his life.

Then a pair of arms grabbed him and threw him into an adjacent room.

Hutch swung a clinched fist toward his assailant. It whiffed the air. A counterattack thwacked him in the head. He hit the floor.

He awoke to find himself in a hotel room twice the size of his own. It had an actual bed, some chairs, and a sweet smell. He was stretched out on the bed. A bright oil lamp sizzled nearby. His body felt stiff and oddly itchy. His face, too, felt uncomfortable—like it was caked with something, maybe blood.

He was caught. His plans were finished. 

He touched his face to assess the damage.

Don’t, pleaded a voice.

Hutch sat up and looked at his body. He didn’t recognize much in the lamplight. Were those his feet at the end of the ruffled… dress?

You’ll mess it up.

His hands again returned to his face. It was smeared with a kind of grease, not blood.

It’s makeup. The voice belonged to a girl. She stepped out of the shadows. Funny, she said, it looks great on you. I hardly ever wear it myself.

What’re you doing with me? he stammered. The girl was a few inches taller than Hutch, but he guessed they were the same age. Do you work for Kinny and his men? National Western?

Goodness no! Why would I hide you if I worked for them?

The girl—she introduced herself as Wendy—quickly told him what happened while he was knocked out. Kinny had the other men tear up the saloon downstairs looking for Hutch. Also they searched the hotel up and down. The hotelkeeper understood that Wendy was a Very Important Person so her room was spared from the search. Still Wendy worried that someone would eventually come to take a look at her room…

That’s why I put you in this dress, she said. You gave me the idea, really. I overheard you answer those men when they first started pounding. You had me fooled. I wondered why they were harassing such a nice sounding young lady. Also, this dress fits you just right. I’m getting too big for it. She jerked some strings at the waist of the dress, tightening the garment around Hutch at the ribs.

He squeaked.

Plus, I have to get you out of here somehow, right? Here’s what I’m thinking... She told him her plan. Hutch would wear the disguise until they reached the loading yards. That was where the convoy’s stegosauruses were kept. For the rest of the night, they’d join the hubbub of the yards: loading the stegos, blending in with the travelers and so on. "I’m leaving tomorrow. My guess is that you’re trying to leave too. You could join my expedition as a kind of… butler. Once we get you out of this dress, of course. Now, I’m sure you’ve had no training so you’ll start off as a junior butler, but I expect you’ll get the hang of things quickly."

This was a lot for Hutch to consider. He could really use the money earned from butlering, whatever it paid. Meals weren’t included with the cost of his seat on the convoy, and by taking this job he wouldn’t have to beg for work from the convoy leader. But Hutch didn’t like the sound of being someone’s butler. On top of it all, his head still ached from when Wendy thwacked him. He rubbed his temples.

Sorry I hit you so hard, she offered. I didn’t know you could be knocked out so easily.

Ordinarily, he’d take that as an insult. But he’d been hit before and stood up afterwards without a problem. No, this girl had something special about her. He made a note to himself: Wendy packed a punch like a regular cowboy.

I’ll do it, Hutch said reluctantly. Only, we’ve got to go to the train depot first. I need to pick up something before heading out on the trail.

Well, let’s move. If anybody asks, your name is Bess.

Hutch swore a cuss.

Oh, Bess! What horrible language!

They left the hotel room and entered the dark hallway. Wendy carried a small piece of luggage, which held her belongings as well as Hutch’s normal clothes. Hutch carried nothing as he struggled to move in the tight corset. The pair crept down the hotel steps. In the attached saloon, a handful of cowboys clustered around the tables. They didn’t look up from their cards and whiskey.

With a start, Hutch noticed Kinny in a corner of the saloon. His legs were bandaged and resting on a chair. From the look of it, Kinny had been swilling whiskey to drown the leg pain. Though Hutch was unsure about the disguise that Wendy cooked up, Kinny’s mangled legs and drunkenness set him at ease about their getaway plan.

They crossed the saloon and passed the hotelkeeper’s register. Then they were out of the building. Safe, for now.

The night was steamy. The mud streets of Brakes seemed to sweat with the heat. With the town being this close to the Line, its weather was more like that of the Territory than the eastern states. It also hummed with the sound of monstrous bugs. People said that the bugs crawled up out of the ground with the dinosaurs. And also with them came the enormous trees and plant life. It used to be dry prairie land and sagebrush all around Brakes. Now much of the land westward was patched with tall, deep jungle.

They headed toward the train depot of the Northwest Railroad. Being at the railroad’s westernmost stop and right near the Line of Containment, Brakes thrived because of its frontier economy. Goods from the Territory and the eastern states all passed through Brakes. Only a short while ago, oxen and covered wagons filled the loading yards. But now tamed stegos were allowed to cross the Line and do the work of the oxen and wagons.

Plenty of travelers passed through Brakes as well. Those from the east brought their hopes of exploiting the ancient creatures and landscape. Others returned from the west with stacks of tanned dino pelts, assortments of bones and horns, and tales of horror about the monsters and the people who survived among them. They filled the hotels, saloons, and gambling halls, whichever way they were going.

Before the stegos, Hutch’s dad thought Brakes was the ideal place for his wagon wheel shop. For a while, business was good. No one dreamed that the creatures could be tamed back then. A few bad decisions later—the biggest mistake was their deal with National Western—and his dad was dead. National Western had recovered part of their debt by conscripting his dad to work on the Line for the U.S. Cavalry. National Western took the enlistment bonus and a portion of his wages. Unfortunately, he died on the Line before the debts were fully paid.

The way Hutch figured it, National Western aimed to conscript him to the Line and then take any valuables he might still possess. His dad had found out too late the lengths that National Western would go to recover what was their due.

The depot was now just a short walk ahead.

So what are we here for, Hutch—I mean—Bess? Wendy grinned.

We’re just here for a package. Something I’ll need on the coast, once I’m on the other side of the Territory.

After moving out to the Line, Hutch’s dad began sneaking messages to him. The last message, from about three weeks ago, mapped out a plan for Hutch to leave Brakes for the west coast where they could escape National Western and make a living on their own.

Because of that message, even though he had learned that his dad was dead, Hutch was at the hotel as planned. He’d been waiting there for a package to reach the train depot. The package, which came all the way from France, was central to his dad’s escape plan. It arrived earlier in the afternoon, Hutch had learned. As planned, he was going to get it and cross over the Line in the morning.

Despite his dad’s death and the fact that National Western was hot on his trail, the plan wasn’t totally shot to heck.

Hutch shared some of this with Wendy.

It’s a good thing I’m headed west too, she said. "Not all the way to the coast, you see. I’ll join the rest of my expedition once we’re in the middle of the Territory. In the meantime, I think working as a junior butler will help you out. Just so you know, I’m on a government expedition and funding is very tight. I’ll have to pay for your butlering services out of my own pocket."

About that, Hutch said. "Do you have to call me your butler—or junior butler?"

"Now, Hutch, why are you getting your stockings in a twist over what you’re called? Junior butler or even Bess is a step above a hutch. Why’d your parents name you after a cage for holding rabbits anyway?"

Here we go, he thought. Everyone thinks they’re so clever when they tell him that he’s named for a small cage built for long-eared rodents. He had hoped that maybe Wendy could resist making a joke about his name, but no such luck.

The name’s short for Hutchinson, not a rabbit hutch.

"Well, I suppose Hutch is a better name than Pen or Coop. Still, I think you’re better off with Bess or even junior butler. Depending on how things go, you could be promoted to a full butler. And who knows, you may decide to stick with my expedition into the heart of the Territory!"

I wouldn’t count on it, Hutch muttered. He was irritated that Wendy ignored him and changed the subject.

Well, it’s something to think about. For tomorrow, I’ll bet the convoy leader can make sure we’re seated on the same stego coach. Look, the depot’s up ahead.

From the train depot, they could hear the honks and grunts of the stegos in the nearby loading yard. The depot itself was largely silent and empty, but there was usually a night porter available to help people with their belongings.

Hutch retrieved the package claim ticket from the clothes that Wendy had tucked into her luggage. Then together they found the night porter.

It was just before daybreak when the pair finally left the depot for the loading yard. The porter lugged Hutch’s package, a large wooden crate, up to the yard’s entrance. This was as far from the depot as the porter was allowed to go.

Thank you, kind sir, said Wendy. Our coach is just a little ways ahead. We can take everything from here. She handed him a small coin.

You ladies need to be careful out in the Territory, he said turning back toward the depot. It’s no place for such dainty creatures as yourselves, you hear?

Hutch burned with the shame of it. Passing for a lady was one thing… But a dainty one… His face steamed under the thick makeup.

Some barrels sat outside of the yard. They cast a good-sized shadow, thanks to the oil lamp at the entranceway. Hutch thought it would be a nice place to change into his old clothes and scrape off the makeup. He was sick of being Bess and didn’t want to spend the whole trip westward wearing face powder and frilly clothes.

He stepped toward the barrels, yanking at the bonnet.

Suddenly, two figures emerged from the shadow. Hutch recognized them instantly. They were Kinny’s men. Through the gloom, Hutch felt their eyes fixed on him. He backed toward Wendy.

Before he could think of what to do, Wendy hollered at the men.

What luck! she shouted. Gentlemen, would you give my sister and me a hand with this awful crate? It’s heavier than we thought.

They sauntered over to the crate. One wore a short black hat with a wide brim, and the other wore a brimless black cap.

Hutch wondered why Wendy would call these men over. He hoped that she had a plan. All he could think to do was run, but he didn’t figure that would do a lot of good—especially with him being squeezed into a dress. Hutch broke out in a sweat, and his back itched under the tight corset. He struggled to keep himself still as the strangers approached. Would Bess scratch her back in the company of these men?

Sure thing, ma’am, said the one in the wide hat.

Wait a minute, Cecil, said the other. We’ve got a job to do. We can’t waste our time with a pair of frilly-dressed young’uns.

I ain’t wastin’ time, Cecil snapped. Then he returned to a friendly tone, It’s not a waste of time to lend a hand. You should know that, Felix.

Hutch could see Felix nod with understanding and then shake back into puzzlement, as he realized that Cecil actually wasn’t interested in lending a hand. This was a bad sign, thought Hutch.

Cecil flashed a split-second glare at his partner. Now, he said to Wendy, how can we help? You need us to lug this crate somewhere? 

But Cecil, wait a minute, said Felix. You sure about this? Which one do you think is him? I’m derned if I can tell.

Cecil turned to Felix but said nothing. Hutch saw the man’s jaw muscles flex as he held his tongue.

I’m just wondering if you’re sure or not, Felix pleaded. "There’s lots of ways of being sure in these types of situations. S’pose, one of ‘em was the boy we’re looking for, but we’re still not sure which… Well, we could have ‘em both try to thread a needle, you see? If one of ‘em threads it by pushing the needle’s eye into