Peacemakers vol. 4

By Western Fictioneers

Available in one volume- all five nominees for the 2012 Peacemaker Award for Best Western Short Story, including the winner- "Adeline" by Wayne Dundee. Also includes stories by James J. Griffith, C. Courtney Joyner, Cheryl Pierson, and Troy D. Smith

• Language: English
• Publisher: Cane Hollow Press
• Release date: Aug 30, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301568352

Western Fictioneers

Western Fictioneers is a professional organization for authors who work in the genre of the traditional western. Our goal is to promote the kinds of stories we love to write (and read); the western is the Great American Story, our unique history and mythology, and it remains as relevant as it ever was.

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THE PEACEMAKERS vol. 4

WESTERN FICTIONEERS

SMASHWORDS EDITION

Copyright © 2013 Western Fictioneers

Cover design by Troy D. Smith

Western Fictioneers logo design by Jennifer Smith-Mayo

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This collection is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author's imagination or are used in a fictional manner. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Printed in the United States of America

Acknowledgements:

Adeline copyright 2012 by Wayne Dundee. Published in Protectors: Stories to Benefit PROTECT — Goombah Gumbo Press

Christmas Comes to Freedom Hill copyright 2012 by Troy D. Smith. Published in Christmas Campfire Companion – Port Yonder Press

Christmas for Evangeline copyright 2012 by C. Courtney Joyner. Published in Six-Guns and Slay Bells: A Creepy Cowboy Christmas – Western Fictioneers.

The Keepers of Camelot copyright 2012 by Cheryl Pierson. Published in Six-Guns and Slay Bells: A Creepy Cowboy Christmas – Western Fictioneers.

The Toys copyright 2012 by James J. Griffin. Published in Six-Guns and Slay Bells: A Creepy Cowboy Christmas – Western Fictioneers.

Introduction

In 2010, several professional western authors –including Frank Roderus, Robert J. Randisi, James Reasoner, Larry Sweazy, and many others –decided to form a new writers’ organization, devoted exclusively to promoting traditional western fiction. We christened our group Western Fictioneers, and decided our first order of business was to sponsor an award that honored the best in our genre each year, which we decided to call the Peacemaker. Recently we decided to do our best to collect the winners and finalists of the short fiction category together, so readers could have access to them. This is our fourth such volume.

We hope you enjoy it, and look for the others. WF extends special thanks to Larry Sweazy, for serving as Awards Administrator for the first three years of the Peacemaker, and to James Reasoner for taking up that baton beginning next year.

Troy D. Smith

President, Western Fictioneers

www.westernfictioneers.com

ADELINE

by Wayne D. Dundee

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is based on historical fact. The Orphan Train program operated in the United States for nearly eight decades, starting in the early 1850s and ending in 1929. Abandoned, vagrant children were taken from the cold, dirty, dangerous streets of eastern cities like New York and Boston and transported to foster homes in rural Western states. In all, over a quarter-million children were relocated in this manner. Like so often happens, the original intent was good, but the execution came with flaws and unintended consequences. Regulation improved in later years, but during the 1870s and 1880s, the turbulent times following the Civil War, the operation ran under its loosest control. Many children went to farming/ranching families where they were treated as little more than slaves or indentured servants; others, like the title character of this story, were destined for even worse fates … WD

It's what you do, ain't it? Bring back people for money?

Bring back people who got wanted papers on 'em, yeah … But not just any old 'people'.

This ain't any old person. This is the sweetest little girl you ever saw. Tiny as a tick, with big, innocent, trusting eyes, and—

Is she a criminal? A wanted fugitive? Rawson interrupted.

"Of course not. I told you, she's just a little girl. It's what's about to happen to her that's criminal … As far as that goes, so is what's already happened to her."

You said she came through on the Orphan Train, right?

Uh-huh.

I thought that was supposed to be a good thing—Getting those abandoned kids out of the overcrowded orphanages and filth of the big cities back east and delivering 'em out here to folks in smaller towns or on farms and ranches ready to welcome 'em into their own families.

"It might sound like a good thing, Miss Maybelle responded, frowning. It was probably meant to be, and I'm sure it seemed all fine and uplifting to whoever thought it up and the politicians they got to sponsor it. Hell, when I first heard about I thought it sounded kinda good and noble, too. But once you see how it actually gets conducted, the way those kids are treated … No, there's a lot about it that ain't good and noble. Not by a damn sight. It's downright degrading and humiliating, is what it is. And that's not even the worst part, for sure not in the case of this little girl I'm talking about."

Clete Rawson leaned back in his cushiony chair and drew thoughtfully on the fine cigar Miss Maybelle had provided once he'd been ushered into her private quarters. The latter were quite handsomely appointed, especially for a no place little town like Hesterville on the far edge of western Nebraska. Miss Maybelle herself was quite handsomely appointed, too, with her piled high hair, glittering jewelry, and a form-fitting dress that showed an intriguing flash of leg and a daring amount of cleavage.

She remained among the most requested in her house of soiled doves, despite her maturity in years and the fact she herself had long since stopped entertaining clients. This didn't prevent her from being on hand each evening to greet and mingle with the guests, however, and to do so while always dressed enticingly—either as an example for her girls to emulate, an added stimulant for the men, or simply to satisfy her own vanity. Perhaps all three. The only thing Rawson knew for sure was that whenever he stopped by Miss Maybelle's place during the times he passed through Hesterville, he looked forward to drinking in the sight of her as part of his visit, even though he knew it would be one of the other girls he'd be going upstairs with. So tonight, when summoned to join the renowned madam in private, he'd been equal parts surprised, puzzled, and excited by the invitation.

I went down to the station when the Orphan Train stopped here two days ago, Miss Maybelle continued. Curiosity, I guess—like most of the others who showed up. Except for those actually looking to adopt one of the children, that is. Seeing how they went about making their selections was where the whole thing started to go sour for me.

What do you mean?

It was like they were examining livestock they might be interested in buying, that's what I mean. Miss Maybelle's nostrils flared indignantly. For starters, they had the children parade out onto this platform that had been set up. The kids all did their best to manage smiles, some of them pirouetted in little circles—like they obviously were trained and encouraged to do. A couple of them even did dance steps and sang some song refrains … Then, if that wasn't humiliating enough, the people who'd signed up as being interested in adoption took turns getting up on the platform for a closer look. They poked and prodded. Made the kids open their mouths so they could check their teeth. Felt their muscles … Made me half sick, just watching.

I saw some slave tradin' once, down South before the war, Rawson recalled. Don't sound too much different from that.

Exactly. Eight children were adopted that day. I'd like to think at least a couple of them went to homes where they'll be welcomed into a family and loved like a kid oughta be. But it was clear that some of the others, for sure the older ones who were selected for their size and strength, are going to end up little more than an extra pair of hard working hands on the ranches they went to … And then there was Adeline, the little girl I mentioned. And Hiram Fortner, the man who adopted her.

How old is this girl?

Can't be more than eight or nine.

You said before she was small. Tiny. Don't sound like a child who was picked for hard labor.

Miss Maybelle shook her head. No, that would almost be a kindness. What Hiram Fortner picked Adeline for is a whole lot worse than hard labor.

Sounds like there's more to tell on this Fortner fella.

Miss Maybelle's face clouded. Hiram Fortner is the lowest form of vermin you can ever imagine.

In the bounty huntin' business, Rawson replied, I've encountered just about every kind of vermin there is. Ain't much left I need to use my imagination on.

The thing about Hiram Fortner, Miss Maybelle argued, is that he likes little girls. And I don't mean he likes them in a good way … I mean in a way that ain't normal or healthy. A way that's sick.

She paused, letting her words sink in. Watched the grim expression settle over Rawson's face.

I don't make a habit of talking about the peculiarities of the men who come to visit my gals. If I wanted to, believe me there's plenty to tell. But obviously that wouldn't be smart for business. Only, in the case of Hiram Fortner, I'm willing to make an exception.

Think I'm already beginnin' to get the picture, Rawson said.

He comes round every couple months or so, Miss Maybelle went on. "Always asks for my youngest gal. Always picks the slimmest, most girlish one out of the lineup. When he gets her up to the room he