Unknown - The_Growing_589064

“Jesus,” Kirsten hisses.

“Harcourt was as hard as a rock,” Maggie continues. “He wouldn’t budge. My men were going to receive their day in court; a civilian court for the damage they’d done to civilians, and that was that.”

“What happened?”

“They pled guilty.” She laughs. It’s a mirthless sound. “Why not? They were. He threw the book at them, as they say. Maximum sentence allowed by law, which, for the D and D’s wasn’t all that much, but the ADW . . . .” Her hands clench and unclench in her lap. “The worst part, I think, was the way he looked at me when he learned I was their commanding officer. It was pity, and anger, all wrapped up in a putrid little ball, and I felt like I was seven again and my father had caught me playing ‘doctor’ with the girl next door.” She laughs again. “It was a lesson well learned that day. And then I learned another one. We were going to war. Again. I needed those men, desperately. So, I swallowed my pride and went to him and laid out another deal. Which was, basically, anything in exchange for them.”

“Did he go for it?” Kirsten asks, though she already knows the answer.

“Yeah. Surprisingly, he did. He knew that the citizens of this country would be much better served with these convicts fighting for their freedoms rather than rotting in some jail somewhere.” She smiles. “But that wasn’t the end of it. Oh no. Not nearly. He demanded restitution. A portion of each paycheck they received would go to those they’d wronged, and then, when they came back from fighting, if they came back, they would serve out their sentences in community service of his choosing. And if he found that they stepped out of line again, even the tiniest inch, he’d toss them back in jail and throw away the key. And, he informed me, I’d be there rotting right along side of them.” She laughs again, shaking her head. “I believed him. I still do.”

“Did they come back from the war? Did they serve out their sentences?”

“Only two,” Maggie intones, her voice infinitely sad. “But they did as he ordered, and as far as I know, they never got so much as a speeding ticket since.” Her face clears then, and she looks up at her audience. “And there you have it. How I know Fenton Harcourt in five thousand words or less.”

“Perfect timing,” Koda replies, turning from the stove with laden plates. “Dinner is served.”

*

Stepping out of the clinic, Dakota breathes deep of the warm spring night. Her nostrils flare as she picks up the familiar scent of pipe tobacco. The fragrance brings with it a wave of memories together with a brief, but almost overwhelming feeling of longing—a longing for the past, for the way things had been; a longing for the ability to shift back time just enough so she could find herself on the porch of her family’s ranch house on a deep summer night, her grandfather on one side of her, her father on the other, and bask in the sense of peace and safety and contentment she fears she’ll never experience again.

Letting the feelings wash over and through her, she continues forward to where she can sense her watcher hidden in the moonshadow of a towering oak. He steps out as she approaches, face wreathed in fragrant pipe-smoke. “Good evening.”

“Fenton.”

He peers past her to the building she’s just left. “I see you’ve kept to your calling despite the recent…difficulties.”

“It’s who I am.”

“Mm.” He removes the pipe from his mouth, gesturing toward the open space behind the guarded gates. “I’ve also heard some fascinating—if rather overdone— tales about a certain Veterinarian leading a charge across a crumbled bridge over the Cheyenne. Very noble, if foolhardy, that woman.”

“It’s who I am,” she answers again, succinctly, truthfully.

“Indeed. I think—and this is pure speculation, mind you—that your grandfather would have been quite proud of your accomplishments.”

Dakota can feel the flush building, warming her skin.

Luckily, or perhaps deliberately, Harcourt has chosen to examine the star-dazzled sky, giving her time to regain the balance his words so effortlessly stripped away.

“So,” she says when she finally finds her voice, “will you stay?”

His eyes come back to meet hers, glittering and wise. “For the nonce.”

“Thank you.”

His head inclines the barest fraction of an inch in response.

She hears a slight rustling from above, and a smile breaks over her face. Uncomprehending, his eyebrow raises in silent question. In answer, she puts her finger to her mouth and utters her three-note calling whistle. A brief second later, Wiyo silently alights on her fist, tucking her wings into place and appearing to study the man standing directly across from her.

“Blessed mercy,” he whispers, his implacable calm instantly shattered. This is a Fenton Harcourt that no one but Dakota knows exists. “Is this….?”

“It is,” Koda answers, holding out her fist in invitation.

She can see his arm tremble as he lifts it and hear the soft intake of breath that is not quite a gasp as Wiyo steps easily onto his wrist. “Hello, old friend,” he says in a voice not-quite steady. “I had never thought to see you again.”

Stepping away to give the Judge some privacy, she rounds the large tree until its towering branches no longer obscure her view of the sky. The firmament is shot through with a trillion sparkling diamonds cast in display by a careless hand.

Would you have been proud of me, thunkashila?

The cold stars give no answer, but that doesn’t matter. She’s pretty sure she knows it anyway.

*

“For the last time, Colonel, the answer is no. There is a perfectly serviceable cot in the Judges’ chambers, and I fully intend to make what little use of it I must. Your hospitality, though polite, is unneeded and unwanted.”

“Begging your pardon, Judge Harcourt,” Kirsten intervenes, “but I’ve seen that ‘perfectly serviceable cot’, and it’s got more lumps in it than my mother’s gravy.”

Straightening to his fullest height, Harcourt turns to her, staring down at her through his glasses, eyes sharp as diamonds. “Madame President….”

Kirsten winces. “Kirsten. Please?” Nothing. “Ms. King?”

“Doctor King, I assume your eyesight is adequate enough to confirm to you that which you know is true. I am an old man. And as an old man, I will have an eternity’s worth of sleep when my decomposing corpse fertilizes the ground around my eternal resting place. Until then, I will sleep when I choose, and where I choose. I will brook no compromise on this issue. Am I clearly understood?”

Jaw clenched, Kirsten finally nods.

“Good.” Turning, he next pins Maggie with his gaze. “Colonel, am I to assume that you have the case files assembled?”

“I do.”

“Then perhaps you would escort me to my chambers and hand over the materials. I believe I have a bit of light reading to do this evening.”

Maggie shoulders the overnight case and hands Harcourt his briefcase. “Fine. Let’s go then.”

After nodding to both Kirsten and Dakota, he turns and leaves the house, Maggie following after him like a faithful puppy.

“Well,” Kirsten observes as the door quietly closes, “wasn’t that just a barrel of laughs.”

*

“It’s a good turnout.”

Nudging Maggie aside and peering through the half-inch or so space between the open door of the Judge’s Advocate’s Chambers and the jamb, Kirsten amends, “It’s a damn good turnout, considering our sampling methods.”

The other woman gives a soft snort of derisive agreement. “Talk about ‘needs must.’ I think we’ve got what we need here, though.”

What they have got is a jury pool of close to three hundred people. At the other end of the courtroom, a pair of military bailiffs in dress uniforms and braid stand with clipboards, checking off names as the prospective jurors file in and take their assigned seats. Maggie is right. It is a good turnout by any standard, especially considering the sampling methods and the hand-carried notifications to the sometimes dubious addresses. It is a phenomenal turnout considering that many of these folk have walked for miles to reach the Base, while others have biked, SegWayed, ridden mule- or horseback. For the first time since the departure of the mounted cavalry regiments, a South Dakota military post has found it necessary to install hitching posts.