The Devilstone Registry: Head of the Trail (1/10ish)
TITLE: The Devilstone Registry
Pairing: Kris/Adam
Rating: R for future violence, PG-13+ for future Sexuality
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, and since it takes place in like
1875 it obviously didn't happen. If one of the idols tells me they don't
want to be in fiction I will change their character name to Lars and
call it a day.
SUMMARY: Shortly after the Civil war, a meteor crashed into Devil's
Tower and the earth began to change. Strange creatures roamed lands once
safe except for the occasional rattlesnake. A new ore, Devilstone, was
discovered, with truly unbelievable properties. Some folks thought it
was the end of the world. Some folks thought it was a new beginning.
Some folks turned tail and fled. A few years have passed since the Great
Trembling, and a small town has sprung up outside of Deadwood to house
the miners and adventure seekers that have come for the Devilstone and
the monster-infested Badlands. One of these men is Dr. Adam Lambert, PHD
in the new field of Abstract Science. To watch over his valuable
inventions and keep him safe on expeditions, he has hired the famous
gunslinger, Kris Allen, better known as Arkansas to his face, or Krissy
the Kid behind his back. The two men form a fast friendship as they
round up evil-dooers, battle real-live nightmares, and make a few
important discoveries about Devilstone, the human heart, and eachother.
Awww, shucks, that made me cry.
TL;DR: OLD WEST BUT WITH STEAMPUNKY MAD SCIENTISTS AND HORROR SHOW
CREATURES.
Beta help ty bamberrific , the rootenest, tootenest gal in any fandom.
Any mistakes are my own fault.
Prologue:
The bartender gasped as he saw a pair of legs beneath the saloon doors.
Only the very tip of a hat indicated that there was indeed a man about
to enter, and not just disembodied legs that had crawled out of a fresh
grave and lumbered off to the saloon out of habit.
Stranger things have been known to happen.
As frightening as the prospect would be, the barman felt his blood run
cold as the saloon doors parted. It really could be only one man. The
Weekly said he was heading this way - the barman looked down at his copy
of Weird West Weekly, remembering all the amazing tales of the Kid from
Arkansas.
"Krissy the Kid" someone murmured, and the bar fell silent as The Kid
himself strode inside The Golden Calf. Even the piano man, Matty the
Mute, stopped tinkling the ivories. The saloon girls stopped their
cavorting, the dish boy dropped a glass and didn't even bother to try
and catch it.
The glass shattered just as Kris approached the rail. He leaned against
the brass, looking unnatural, with his elbow closer to his ear than
could be comfortable.
If The Kid looked comical, not a man in the Saloon laughed. Krissy the
Kid, or "Arkansas", as he preferred to be called, was the fastest gun in
the west. Rumor had it he had been a Marshall once, but when the town
ran out of criminals to catch he had set off on his own; a gun-for-hire.
His reputation was taller then he was but his shadow stretched as far as
the end of the Dakota Territories. The Kid pulled down his plaid
bandana, revealing a boyish face. The bartender shivered. How could a
man accused of gunning down so many look so innocent? It was the work of
black magic, or worse. Perhaps he had some Cherokee blood, or consorted
with the evil things that dwelled in the deepest caves of the Badlands.
The barman didn't ask any questions. He just set down a glass full of
his best whiskey and stammered,
"No charge."
The Kid smiled, and the Bartender swore his heart stopped a moment. What
monster of a man could smile so sweetly when the blood in his veins was
so black?
"What brings you to town, Mr. Arkansas?" The bartender asked, summoning
all his courage. Most of the articles in the Weekly said Krissy the Kid
was usually found further south, in the bowels of Texas.
"A horse." Kris said, still grinning his far-too-adorable smile. It was
uncanny, inhuman in it's cuteness. "Of course." He added, chuckling at
his own rhyme. It was more of a giggle, really, but no one would think,
even to themselves, that Krissy the Kid would giggle. It was tantamount
to suicide.
The bar erupted into laughter, no one wanting to risk offending him.
Matty the Mute even pounded a few happy chords out on the piano and
opened his mouth as if he were laughing, though no such sound escaped
his mouth.
"Seriously, though" Kris continued, and the bar fell back into silence,
"I got a letter offerin' me some regular employment. Thought I'd ride
north and stay a spell. A man gets tired of ramblin'."
"Of course, of course." The barman nodded his head, and the rest of the
rabble murmured their agreement. "I can have my best room ready in an
hour. Just let me evict the current tenant."
The Kid seemed to brighten, giving the assembled men a little smirk. The
bartender hesitated a moment. The Kid seemed less hostile than the
Weekly had made him sound. However, better safe than sorry.
"That's right kind of you." Arkansas said, tugging on his hat." I
wouldn't want to put you through any hassle. Just give me whatever's
available. I don't need much room."
Someone snorted, muffling a laugh. Kris turned towards the sound. The
man's table companion looked hurriedly from his friend to Kris, and
hesitated only a moment before he punched the laughing man in the
face. The bar launched into a full on brawl, the men stepping over each
other in an effort to sucker-punch the guy who might have offended The
Kid.
Kris simply turned back to the barman.
"They always this rowdy?" Kris asked, thumbing over his shoulder.
"Oh, no, sir. But the guy who started the fight, that's Fightin' Mac
Sarver. He doesn't like it if he thinks a fella's getting picked on.
Always standin' up for people...that's why we made him the law. We take
care of our own." The barman stammered as the brawl raged on behind him.
The Kid raised an eyebrow, as if to say "clearly." "And if you're here,
you're one of our own." The keeper added, filling Kris's glass to the
brim.
"Who was getting picked on?" Kris asked, and the barman swallowed hard.
The Kid was obviously feigning ignorance, trying to draw him into a
trap.
"I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding." He stammered, hoping The Kid
wouldn't find any insult in his words. His temper was legendary. The
Weekly was full of stories where The Kid had shot a man for less.
Kris nodded knowingly. For some reason, misunderstandings happened a lot
around him.
***
The Tale
The room was small, which suited him fine. He tossed his sack beneath
the rough-hewn bed and fingered the patchwork quilt that lay careful on
the straw mattress. The Golden Calf obviously had high standards in
their house girls, for Kris couldn't find a fault with the cleanliness
of his lodgings. The hour he had waited for it to be prepared was worth
it.
He hung his gun belt on the bedpost and stretched out on the bed,
relaxing after the long ride. Kris pulled out the letter and read it
again, drinking in the promise of a long-term job. The people downstairs
had seemed friendly enough when not decking each other, and it had been
a long time since Kris had been able to call anywhere home. Calamity
seemed to follow him from place to place. Maybe this town would be
different.
The letter was addressed to "Kristopher Allen" which in itself was
strange. No one had ever bothered to learn enough about him to know his
birth name. Most folks just called him by his home state, Arkansas. Only
a very, very few called him Kris, or his momma's nickname for him,
"Krissy." Kris supposed it was because he didn't warrant the attention.
Hell, some folks even referred to him as "Kid." Clearly, he wasn't
important enough to bother with a name.
Apparently, Dr. Lambert was different. The handwriting was careful;
brown ink scratched on monogrammed stationary.
Dear Mr. Kristopher Allen,
I am not sure if you will have heard of me, so I will start with an
introduction. My name is Adam Lambert, recently given my doctoral degree
in Abstract Science by the University of New York. Of course, I received
my medical degree prior to that. Having recently come into a large sum
of money, I have decided follow in the footsteps of so many
adventuresome pioneers and Go West, Young Man.
Having a scientific mind and a curious nature, I have searched high and
low for a place in which I might conduct my experiments with a
reasonable measure of privacy. My work also necessitates a large
quantity of the substance known as Devilstone which as you know was
discovered recently in the Black Hills of the Dakota Territories. It is
my firm belief that utilizing the most modern scientific methods, I can
create devices for the betterment of mankind. I have settled on a small
town northwest of Deadwood. Perhaps you have heard of it? They tell me
it's called Westport, but devil take me if I can find any water. Who
ever heard of a port without water?
The purpose of my letter is two-fold. I require a guard and aide. I am
not a man of fighting prowess, and I fear that my valuable equipment
would be a powerful lure for such ruffians as one can be expected to
encounter in the west. No offense, Sir, I assure you I have heard
nothing but amazing tales of your valor. I also need a brave soul, such
as the tales of your exploits assure me you are, to venture into the
Badlands to procure raw materials and specimens as will be rendered
necessary by my methods. As I needn't tell you, such ventures are as
risky as they are profitable, and I need someone with the fighting
spirit to match my inquisitive and not inconsiderable brainpower.
I can promise you will be well paid and well provided for should you
accept my proposition. Shall we meet in person to discuss? Alas, I
should have to ask you to make the journey, as someone with my
disposition isn't likely to make far journeys without the comfort of a
train. And you are not an easy man to find. I doubt even the Trackless
Train could keep up with you.
In fact, I wonder how this letter will find you. No matter.
Yours in haste,
Dr. Adam Lambert
The letter had arrived just inside doorstep of the bunkhouse which had
been his residence for the last month. He considered it for a few hours
before giving his notice to the rancher whose herd he had been guarding.
Since the meteor had collided with Devil's Tower thirteen years ago, the
Dakota Territories had become a hub of supernatural activity. Tales of
strange creatures inhabiting the Badlands, of the dead rising from their
graves, of mysterious disappearances and more trickled down from
Deadwood with surprising frequency. Kris had been content with his life
of tracking down bank robbers and solving territory disputes with the
neighboring Indian tribes. Whatever good he could do. But the good he
had done had left more than a little blood on his hands. Maybe life up
north would be less complicated. Kris was pretty sure he'd feel less
guilty about putting a bullet into a slobbering werewolf than a human
criminal, no matter how terrible his crime. Besides, how much trouble
could a scientist really get in to? Dr. Lambert was likely an
over-anxious eccentric.
Kris was eager to make a new start in Westport; make friends with his
neighbors, maybe even take a bath. It had been a long, dusty, lonely
ride. However, his new start could wait until he took a nap. In his
apparent generosity, the barkeep had filled him with an over abundance
of whiskey, and Kris felt more than a little drunk. It was a nice
welcome.
***
The bar was even busier at night, and Kris leaned back against the wall,
content to be ignored. This afternoon, he had the odd feeling that
everyone was staring at him, but given the fight that had broken out, he
must have just walked in on a bad situation. From his vantage point, he
surveyed the room. The simple wooden walls contrasted sharply with the
brass chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. A blonde woman circled the
crowd, keeping an eye on several saloon girls as they worked the room
and flirting with a bespectacled man at a table by himself. The piano
player hammered out a skillful tune, but didn't sing along to any of the
standards. Kris fought hard to keep from mumbling the words under his
breath.
He noticed "Fightin' Mac Sarver" in the crowd and nodded to him. Kris
liked a guy that stood up for people, even if he had no idea who Mac was
supposed to be standing up for. Mac tugged on his hat brim respectfully,
and it was only then that Kris saw that "Fightin' Mac" wore a gold star.
Kris was about to introduce himself when something unusual caught his
eye. A woman was in the bar, and not a whore either, a woman.
She was breathtaking, even at a distance. Even through a sea of unwashed
cowboys and ne'er do-wells. Kris's breath caught in his throat. Those
eyes. They were the exact blue of her dress, a tightly corseted silk
with black trim. Her hair was the color of a sunset, her skin the purest
alabaster but for the smattering of freckles that showed through her
powder.
The most astounding thing about her is that when she caught Kris's gaze
after sweeping the room for a moment, her eyes (those EYES) lit up in
recognition. The other men had been watching her, but as soon as they
saw the direction of her glance they had gone back to their own
business.
She floated, more than walked, to him, and Kris took a big pull from his
whiskey. In no time at all she was in front of him, and if her beauty
was stunning from a distance, it was nothing compared to the vision she
was when she was up close. Her full lips parted in a smile.
Kris pulled off his hat in a hurry. The woman was taller than him, much
taller. In fact, she was the tallest woman Kris had ever met.
"Mr. Arkansas?" She asked demurely, offering her hand.
"Madam." He said, holding out his hand to take hers. As he bent to press
his lips to her glove, she purred.
"I'm Adam."
Kris dropped her hand and took a big step backwards, forgetting he was
already so close to the wall. His head snapped back with a thud, and the
woman laughed, the mischievousness twinkling in her eyes like starlight.
Kris starred at her, stunned. He had never heard of a woman named Adam.
She continued, unabashed.
"Dr. Adam Lambert. I sent you a letter?"
"There must be some mistake." He said, stammering. The woman laughed
again, a musical sound.
"No mistake. Just an extremely successful experiment. I heard you were
in town and didn't want to wait till the effects wore off to meet you."
"The effects?" Kris bit his lip and took another pull from his glass.
"Of the experiment." Adam said, looking impatient. "You aren't a
dullard, I hope. None of the articles said you were a dullard."
"Articles?" Kris was getting more and more confused and annoyed with
himself with repeating words like a parrot from a pirate story. When he
saw Adam's face fall, dismissing him as hopelessly dim, he shook his
head. "No. No, I'm not simple, I just wasn't expectin' a man named Adam
to look so much like a lovely woman."
Kris was astonished. He had never heard of any sort of scientific
experiments causing a temporary change in gender. However, he admitted
to himself that he didn't spend much time keeping up with the latest
scientific trends. For all he knew this was run of the mill in the
Dakotas.
"Ah." Adam nodded, as if this made perfect sense. "Well, the appearance
will fade in about an hour. In fact, if you peer close enough I would
bet that you could see the beginnings of stubble. Don't, though!" Adam
said, and Kris realized he had, in fact, been leaning in. Due to their
difference in height, he was leaning right towards Adam's
more-than-ample bosom. He was so close his chin was nearly touching the
pillowy flesh. It certainly looked authentic at close range. "People
will question my honor as a lady."
"But you aren't a lady." Kris said, before tilting his head. He didn't
want to ask, but the word flew out of his mouth. "Right?"
Adam laughed lightly, and Kris felt his pulse race. Lady or no, Adam was
as lovely as Kris could have imagined, and he certainly played the part
well.
"Not for much longer. So, shall we? I have a carriage outside. You can
tie your horse to the back and ride with me. We can talk. I assume you
have more than a few questions."
"Let me just get my things and pay for the room. I rented a room." He
added, feeling a bit foolish. Then again, how was he to know the doctor
was going to meet up with him so soon.
Adam nodded and leaned towards Kris's ear.
"For appearances." He (as Kris really must begin thinking of him)
whispered, and kissed Kris lightly on the cheek. Kris felt himself
flush. "Meet me outside."
Adam's lips brushed against his ear, and Kris shook his head, wanting to
clear his thoughts. That's a man. He reminded himself. No matter what he
looks like right now.
As Kris descended the stair with his pack, he felt every eye on him.
Several of the men nodded approvingly, and Mac even patted him on the
shoulder.
"See y'all around." He said to the room at large, feeling a bit
sheepish.
"Happy Trails, Arkansas!" Mac hooted, and the men lifted their glasses.
"All the stories are true! I wonder if this will be in the Weekly?" Kris
heard someone mutter in amazement, and wondered what the man could
possibly have meant. He dismissed it as none of his business and stepped
out into the chill night air.
***
"Well, that was a rousing success." Adam said, shimmying out of the
dress as the carriage rattled along the trail. "Such a gentleman."
Kris had been averting his eyes, but couldn't help peeking just a bit.
It wasn't as if Adam was actually a woman, so there was no harm in
looking. Adam's bosom had already shrunk and his waist had expanded,
giving him the shape of a man rather than the narrow-waisted hourglass
figure he had possessed only a moment before.
"I'll spare you the transformation below my pantaloons." Adam said.
"It's shocking the first time you see it."
Kris snapped his mouth shut, only now aware that he had been staring
with his mouth open. However, it fell open again as the long red hair
fell from Adam's head, like feathers. The hair beneath it was wild and
ink-black. Kris was momentarily distracted. Though Adam looked
completely different once the effects of whatever concoction he had
mixed up dissipated, he looked strikingly similar to the "woman" as
well. The eyes were the same, gleaming sapphire color, and his lips
framed a smile that made the doctor look perpetually amused.
"How on earth... Why would you...WHAT?" Kris asked several questions at
once, and hoped he wasn't being rude. Out in the furthest reaches of the
west, he had heard tell of men that dressed like women, when the real
thing was scarce. Somehow he didn't think that this was what the stories
were talking about.
Adam only laughed, pulling on a white shirt and slipping a pair of
suspendered trousers on over the frilly white pantaloons. "It's an
elixir I've been working on. I am hoping to alter the formula so that
the effects last longer. I can only manage a few hours right now."
"Why would you want to be a woman?" Kris asked, feeling a blush rise in
his cheeks.
Adam looked astounded, as if he had never considered that idea. "Oh, I
don't." He wrinkled his nose. "It's not bad for awhile I suppose. But,
Kristopher, you are missing the bigger picture. Imagine the
implications! Espionage, traveling in disguise, theatre! I'm curious to
see if it would work in the other direction."
"The other direction?" Kris asked, feeling hopelessly lost.
"Imagine if a woman could turn into a man temporarily! Why, she could
purchase her own land, vote in political elections, travel without fear
of misfortune. It would change the very fabric of our society!"
"I suppose it would." Kris nodded, eyes wide. It was an understatement,
to be sure.
"You see now why I have need of a guard." Adam said, his voice taking on
a distinctly confrontational tone. "I am sorry if I didn't mention
the...questionable nature of some of my experiments in my letter. I
didn't want it to fall into the wrong hands."
Kris nodded, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand. Another
understatement. The more religious folk in his hometown would have cast
him out as a demon.
"Though from what I read of you, you seem like you have an open mind."
"What do you mean, reading about me? I am surprised you even know who I
am. I suppose there might have been a few articles in the local paper,
when I was a Marshall, but that was years ago."
Adam blinked.
"You can't be serious. Even a greenhorn like me knows about Krissy the
Kid. Or Arkansas, as you like to be called."
"I like to be called that?"
"Don't you?" Adam said. "It says so in Weird West Weekly."
"What's-"
Adam cut him off.
"You don't read it? I thought everyone did. In fact, everyone does. It's
newsletter, one of the most subscribed to publications in the country.
And you're in nearly every issue."
If Kris was shocked by Dr. Lambert's gender-swapping antics, it was
nothing compared to the news that he was apparently a celebrity. Now
that he thought about it, it certainly explained a lot.
"My, my you really are a dullard, aren't you?" Adam clucked.
"I suppose I am." Kris said, shaking his head.
"No matter. You'll do. Why, your reputation alone should keep me safe,
once your arrival here hits the W-3." Adam waved his hand dismissively
as the carriage slowed to a stop.
"Dr-"
"Call me Adam." Adam insisted, laying a hand on Kris's shoulder as he
rose. "And get your things." Kris tried to interject again, but Adam
continued. "Don't mind the horse, Scott will be out in a moment to take
care of him. What were you saying?"
"Adam." Kris took a breath. Getting a word in edgewise was clearly going
to be a challenge. "Does it hurt?"
Adam blinked at him. "What?"
Kris flushed again, grateful for the cover of darkness.
"The...change."
"Oh. Like a bitch. But only on the way in." Adam snickered, stepping out
of the coach and beckoning Kris to follow. "The way out is quite a
relief. I wonder if it would be the opposite the other way around. I
wish Mama Lil would let me try."
"Mama Lil?" Kris was confused again, and latched on to the only part of
Adam's statement that made any sense. Did his mother live with him?
"In a moment. Is that you, Scott?" Adam called to a figure waiting just
out of sight. "He always meets me outside. Swears he can hear me
coming." Adam added, mumbling to Kris as he lit a torch.
"Of course I can." The man said, stepping forward into the torchlight.
Kris gasped, shocked for the third time of the evening.
The man before him was thin and tall, with a huge head of blond curls.
However, the thick mop was not his most distinguishing characteristic.
No, that designation belonged to the metal gadget ... Kris supposed they
were goggles of a sort ... strapped around his eyes. The lenses made his
eyes look huge, and metal rings clacked and whirred, irises adjusting to
the light.
"Pleased to meet you." Kris said, feeling guilty for gasping and
starring. One would think seeing a woman turn into a man would make
anything else less surprising. He scolded himself. "I'm-"
"Krissy the Kid, I've read all about you. I'm Scott, Dr. Lambert's
assistant."
"Assistant?" Kris repeated, feeling like a parrot again. He hoped that
he'd regain his ability to ask questions in full sentences sometime
soon.
Scott laughed. " Lab Assistant and stable boy, I guess. Prestigious,
right? It's a long story, but I'll let the doctor fill you in. He's
completely batshit but brilliant." Scott said, ignoring the fact that
Dr. Lambert was standing well within earshot. "He made me these." Scott
continued, tapping his goggles. "Blind as a bat without 'em. So I pretty
much do as told. It has its benefits. I can see AND watch the genius at
work, even help out a bit. Plus he pays me. Can't complain."
"Sorry to hear. That you're blind. Glad you can see." Kris stammered. He
chanced a glance up at Adam, who was smirking towards Scott.
"You dazzled him, didn't you?" Scott asked after appraising Kris's face
for a moment. "I'd recognize that expression even without the specs.
Adam, you've got stop making passes on people while you're a woman, it's
not fair."
"I have to see how completely the transformation works. It's research."
Adam protested.
"Spare me the details." Scott said, laughing. "I don't need to hear how
you wooed Krissy the Kid before revealing your true identity."
"Oh, it wasn't like that. He was a perfect lady." Kris protested
earnestly. Realizing how absurd he sounded, he laughed along with Scott
and Adam.
"My Hero." Dr. Lambert grinned. "Your mama raised you right."
"Are you three gonna come in or do I have to eat this meal on my own?" A
woman's voice called from the direction of the house.
"Comin' Mama!" Adam and Scott called in unison.
"Me too!" Kris shouted, not wanting to be left out. The three men
walked in companionable silence toward the house. Kris couldn't make out
much detail in the dim light, but in the hazy pink of the fading
twilight, he could see a large house clad in cedar shakes. There were at
least eight chimneys, and Kris thought he could see a rambling network
of pipes snaking through the roofline and on behind the house.
~~~
Dinner was a pleasant affair. Mama Lil turned out not to be Adam's
mother. She was as different looking from Adam as you could get, with
her long dark hair and skin the color of cocoa. Her smile, like his,
could light up the room. In fact, that was a trait all three of the
residents here had in common. They all looked inexplicably happy. Kris
wanted to fit in, but he found he didn't even have to try. It was
contagious. Before he knew it they were swapping stories.
Lil had met "Dr. Adam" in New Orleans. He had hired her away from his
distant relatives he had come to visit, and consequently was no longer
welcome in their home. Adam said it was worth it, though, and Lil had
blushed. She assisted him with welding on any metalwork, and ran his
household seeing as Adam had never been married Adam had rolled his
eyes when Kris asked about a wife.
"You sound like my mother."
"Well, she wants some gorgeous grandchildren. Just look at yourself!"
Lil had interjected. "Isn't he the prettiest?" She asked Kris, who
stammered.
"I suppose so."
Adam arched an eyebrow.
"I suppose you thought I was prettier in the dress."
"No!" Kris said, flushing crimson. "Yes! I mean... it was different.
Both ways are nice. I mean. Either. You look just fine."
Scott slapped his knee. "Man, I can see you blushing from here." Scott
had taken off his glasses and was reclining on a chair near the
fireplace.
"I'm not!" Kris said, but he couldn't help laughing at the situation. He
normally wouldn't have commented on another man's appearance, but the
three eccentrics had put him at his ease.
"Don't worry about it, nothing to be ashamed of." Lil said. "We all
think he's just precious." She pinched Adam's cheek and gave it a good
shake. "Though you might give him a run for his money. You are so much
cuter than the drawings in the Weekly give you credit for."
Kris flushed and stammered a "thank you" but his mind had already moved
past her compliment. There was that word again. Weekly. Everyone used
it as if they were referring to a publication as common as the New York
Times. Kris had never seen it.
"Sorry. I hate to ask, but I've never heard of the Weekly. Which is
strange because apparently I feature heavily. Where is it published?"
Scott fumbled around in a basket next to his chair and tossed a
folded-up bundle of what looked like newspaper towards Kris. It missed
by a good few feet, but Adam retrieved it, holding a finger to his lips
and fighting down a smile as he handed it over to Kris.
"The Weird West Weekly...Words Wired from the West" was emblazoned on
the cover, framing a picture of a shambling creature, half man and half
snake in front of a setting sun and a cactus.
"I'M in this?" Kris asked incredulously. It looked like it had been
printed on an antique press from a rather worn set of plates.
"Usually." Adam peered over his shoulder, leaning in for a closer look.
"Yes, you should be on page twelve. They put the more fantastic news up
front, the gun-slinging comes later."
Kris scanned the article. It was a story that detailed his involvement
in bringing a gang of train-robbers to justice. The gist of the story
was correct, but he noticed a few details, like the number of men, had
been fudged. The story implied that he had turned in 5, but hung the
three ringleaders from a tree. In actuality, there had been only four
robbers. One had taken a bullet but lived to tell the tale. The article
had been written by someone called "The Snoop."
"They all go by pen names. That way you don't recognize them in the
field." Adam explained when Kris had pointed out the strange author.
...Or hold them accountable for inaccuracies. Kris silently added. He
flipped the paper over. It was published in North Carolina. This issue
was a few months old.
"Have any more of these?" Kris asked. Adam nodded.
"They're all in the library. We kept this one out cause Lil likes the
picture."
Kris flipped back to the article, and sure enough, there was a drawing
of Kris, wearing a menacing scowl and pointing a six-shooter.
"I think you look tough!" Lil said encouragingly, patting Kris on the
shoulder as he flushed.
"I hope I don't disappoint." Kris said, brushing the back of his neck.
"Oh, no." Adam reassured him. "You look even better in person than you
do in print." Unfortunately, Kris chose this moment to yawn widely,
making Lil coo.
"Look at him. He's tuckered out. Where are your manners, Dr. Adam? You
show him to his bed while Scott and I clean up." Scott sighed loudly,
pulling on his glasses.
Kris started to protest, but Lil hushed him and shoo'd them both out of
the dining room.
"Nice." He said to Adam absentmindedly.
"Lil? Or the house?"
"Both. Everyone, Scott too. You too. We didn't talk much about the job,
but I hope it works out. I like it here already." In truth, Kris hadn't
looked around the house much. It was spacious in comparison to anywhere
else he had lived, and Adam led him down a long corridor towards the
bedrooms, he presumed. The light from the candle flickered as Kris
caught a glimpse of mirrors and paintings. He couldn't wait to see the
house in the daylight.
"In here." Adam said, opening a door. He busied about the room, lighting
a few candles so Kris could get oriented.
"It's immense." Kris said appreciatively.
"I'm just next door. Actually, we share a bathroom."
"A BATHROOM?" Kris goggled. He had never so lived anywhere with indoor
plumbing. He had heard of it in New York City, but never had so much as
seen a diagram of how they worked.
"It's a system I worked up. Too cumbersome for mass production but it
works. Here, anyways. It's Devilstone powered, like most of my
inventions." Kris walked into the room, his boots clacking against the
wooden floor. He touched a metal lever and after a few moments and a
sputtering noise, a bit of cold water flowed from a spigot.
"Let me show you." Adam said, and placed his hand on top of Kris's.
"Working the lever up and down produces a build up of pressure in the
pipes. I generally find ten pumps enough to do the trick. When you've
built up enough pressure, simply swing the lever left and it releases
into the basin." He directed Kris's hand, and Kris marveled at the
stream of water that shot out of the spout.
"The same basic premise is used for the bathing area. I like to take
baths." He explained. "If you want to take a bath you've got to head
over to the tank room and light a fire beneath the water tank. The fire
heats the water and then you can have a warm bath." Adam looked at
Kris's face, which Kris knew was a mask of astonishment. He had never
been good at concealing his emotions. "It's crude compared to the
systems back east, but on the frontier we all must make do."
"The water..." Kris shook his head. "I'm amazed. Truly. This is amazing.
You are amazing."
"See why I need a guard? If the folks in town knew I had running water,
there would be lines out my door." Adam swallowed, as if the thought of
keeping water from the population offended him. "But it's only a secret
till I figure out how to make it work on a large scale. Imagine,
Kristopher, a system for the entire town! People could be clean more,
have access to water wherever they lived. It could save lives. It could
revolutionize the West!"
"It's unbelievable." Kris said honestly. "I'm afraid I am going to wake
up and be back in The Golden Calf. This can't be real."
"It's real, I promise. But you've had a long, confusing day and I'm
keeping you. Feel free to knock if you need anything, I'm just through
the other bathroom door. Or you could go through the hall if you wanted
I suppose, but that would be a waste of time. I'm up most of the night
reading anyway, so don't worry about disturbing me. I don't sleep much."
Kris just shook his head incredulously as Adam disappeared through the
door to his bedroom.
"Good night, Dr. Lambert." He called, heading back to his room.
"Good night, Arkansas." Came a cheery reply. Kris pulled off his boots
and folded his clothes on top of the chest at the end of his bed, as
eager to go to sleep as he was to wake up the next morning.
***
EPITAPH
The Snoop finished his article and re-read it with satisfaction. He made
a mental note to drop it off at the depot tomorrow, before the trackless
train took him north. It would be an interesting journey. The Snoop
smiled eagerly to himself. Tailing Krissy the Kid always made for an
interesting journey, but this trek promised an even more interesting
destination.
"Well folks, your favorite pint-sized pioneer has left the south,
riding hard for scarier pastures in the Dakota Territories. I have it on
good authority he's the new gun hand for area scientist Dr. Lambert.
Yes, that's the same man whose last laboratory blew up just outside of
New York City. Let's hope he's learned his lesson. You no-good-nicks out
there might want to keep that in mind if you're fixin' for an easy score
in Westport. If Krissy The Kid's gunhand don't get you, Dr. Lambert's
mad antics certainly will. Barring either fate, your intrepid reporter
will bring you the news as soon as it happens. That's "when," not "if"
dear readers. These two legends-in-the-making will keep the pages
filled, or I'm not "The Snoop."
Yep. It would be an interesting journey, indeed. The Snoop pulled off
his trousers and resolved to spend one more quiet night in Texas before
heading north into God-Knows-What.
READ MORE OF THE ADVENTURES OF DR. LAMBERT AND KRISSY THE KID IN CHAPTER
TWO: THE TALE OF MATTY THE MUTE
Pairing: Kris/Adam
Rating: R for future violence, PG-13+ for future Sexuality
Disclaimer: I don't own any of this, and since it takes place in like
1875 it obviously didn't happen. If one of the idols tells me they don't
want to be in fiction I will change their character name to Lars and
call it a day.
SUMMARY: Shortly after the Civil war, a meteor crashed into Devil's
Tower and the earth began to change. Strange creatures roamed lands once
safe except for the occasional rattlesnake. A new ore, Devilstone, was
discovered, with truly unbelievable properties. Some folks thought it
was the end of the world. Some folks thought it was a new beginning.
Some folks turned tail and fled. A few years have passed since the Great
Trembling, and a small town has sprung up outside of Deadwood to house
the miners and adventure seekers that have come for the Devilstone and
the monster-infested Badlands. One of these men is Dr. Adam Lambert, PHD
in the new field of Abstract Science. To watch over his valuable
inventions and keep him safe on expeditions, he has hired the famous
gunslinger, Kris Allen, better known as Arkansas to his face, or Krissy
the Kid behind his back. The two men form a fast friendship as they
round up evil-dooers, battle real-live nightmares, and make a few
important discoveries about Devilstone, the human heart, and eachother.
Awww, shucks, that made me cry.
TL;DR: OLD WEST BUT WITH STEAMPUNKY MAD SCIENTISTS AND HORROR SHOW
CREATURES.
Beta help ty bamberrific , the rootenest, tootenest gal in any fandom.
Any mistakes are my own fault.
Prologue:
The bartender gasped as he saw a pair of legs beneath the saloon doors.
Only the very tip of a hat indicated that there was indeed a man about
to enter, and not just disembodied legs that had crawled out of a fresh
grave and lumbered off to the saloon out of habit.
Stranger things have been known to happen.
As frightening as the prospect would be, the barman felt his blood run
cold as the saloon doors parted. It really could be only one man. The
Weekly said he was heading this way - the barman looked down at his copy
of Weird West Weekly, remembering all the amazing tales of the Kid from
Arkansas.
"Krissy the Kid" someone murmured, and the bar fell silent as The Kid
himself strode inside The Golden Calf. Even the piano man, Matty the
Mute, stopped tinkling the ivories. The saloon girls stopped their
cavorting, the dish boy dropped a glass and didn't even bother to try
and catch it.
The glass shattered just as Kris approached the rail. He leaned against
the brass, looking unnatural, with his elbow closer to his ear than
could be comfortable.
If The Kid looked comical, not a man in the Saloon laughed. Krissy the
Kid, or "Arkansas", as he preferred to be called, was the fastest gun in
the west. Rumor had it he had been a Marshall once, but when the town
ran out of criminals to catch he had set off on his own; a gun-for-hire.
His reputation was taller then he was but his shadow stretched as far as
the end of the Dakota Territories. The Kid pulled down his plaid
bandana, revealing a boyish face. The bartender shivered. How could a
man accused of gunning down so many look so innocent? It was the work of
black magic, or worse. Perhaps he had some Cherokee blood, or consorted
with the evil things that dwelled in the deepest caves of the Badlands.
The barman didn't ask any questions. He just set down a glass full of
his best whiskey and stammered,
"No charge."
The Kid smiled, and the Bartender swore his heart stopped a moment. What
monster of a man could smile so sweetly when the blood in his veins was
so black?
"What brings you to town, Mr. Arkansas?" The bartender asked, summoning
all his courage. Most of the articles in the Weekly said Krissy the Kid
was usually found further south, in the bowels of Texas.
"A horse." Kris said, still grinning his far-too-adorable smile. It was
uncanny, inhuman in it's cuteness. "Of course." He added, chuckling at
his own rhyme. It was more of a giggle, really, but no one would think,
even to themselves, that Krissy the Kid would giggle. It was tantamount
to suicide.
The bar erupted into laughter, no one wanting to risk offending him.
Matty the Mute even pounded a few happy chords out on the piano and
opened his mouth as if he were laughing, though no such sound escaped
his mouth.
"Seriously, though" Kris continued, and the bar fell back into silence,
"I got a letter offerin' me some regular employment. Thought I'd ride
north and stay a spell. A man gets tired of ramblin'."
"Of course, of course." The barman nodded his head, and the rest of the
rabble murmured their agreement. "I can have my best room ready in an
hour. Just let me evict the current tenant."
The Kid seemed to brighten, giving the assembled men a little smirk. The
bartender hesitated a moment. The Kid seemed less hostile than the
Weekly had made him sound. However, better safe than sorry.
"That's right kind of you." Arkansas said, tugging on his hat." I
wouldn't want to put you through any hassle. Just give me whatever's
available. I don't need much room."
Someone snorted, muffling a laugh. Kris turned towards the sound. The
man's table companion looked hurriedly from his friend to Kris, and
hesitated only a moment before he punched the laughing man in the
face. The bar launched into a full on brawl, the men stepping over each
other in an effort to sucker-punch the guy who might have offended The
Kid.
Kris simply turned back to the barman.
"They always this rowdy?" Kris asked, thumbing over his shoulder.
"Oh, no, sir. But the guy who started the fight, that's Fightin' Mac
Sarver. He doesn't like it if he thinks a fella's getting picked on.
Always standin' up for people...that's why we made him the law. We take
care of our own." The barman stammered as the brawl raged on behind him.
The Kid raised an eyebrow, as if to say "clearly." "And if you're here,
you're one of our own." The keeper added, filling Kris's glass to the
brim.
"Who was getting picked on?" Kris asked, and the barman swallowed hard.
The Kid was obviously feigning ignorance, trying to draw him into a
trap.
"I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding." He stammered, hoping The Kid
wouldn't find any insult in his words. His temper was legendary. The
Weekly was full of stories where The Kid had shot a man for less.
Kris nodded knowingly. For some reason, misunderstandings happened a lot
around him.
***
The Tale
The room was small, which suited him fine. He tossed his sack beneath
the rough-hewn bed and fingered the patchwork quilt that lay careful on
the straw mattress. The Golden Calf obviously had high standards in
their house girls, for Kris couldn't find a fault with the cleanliness
of his lodgings. The hour he had waited for it to be prepared was worth
it.
He hung his gun belt on the bedpost and stretched out on the bed,
relaxing after the long ride. Kris pulled out the letter and read it
again, drinking in the promise of a long-term job. The people downstairs
had seemed friendly enough when not decking each other, and it had been
a long time since Kris had been able to call anywhere home. Calamity
seemed to follow him from place to place. Maybe this town would be
different.
The letter was addressed to "Kristopher Allen" which in itself was
strange. No one had ever bothered to learn enough about him to know his
birth name. Most folks just called him by his home state, Arkansas. Only
a very, very few called him Kris, or his momma's nickname for him,
"Krissy." Kris supposed it was because he didn't warrant the attention.
Hell, some folks even referred to him as "Kid." Clearly, he wasn't
important enough to bother with a name.
Apparently, Dr. Lambert was different. The handwriting was careful;
brown ink scratched on monogrammed stationary.
Dear Mr. Kristopher Allen,
I am not sure if you will have heard of me, so I will start with an
introduction. My name is Adam Lambert, recently given my doctoral degree
in Abstract Science by the University of New York. Of course, I received
my medical degree prior to that. Having recently come into a large sum
of money, I have decided follow in the footsteps of so many
adventuresome pioneers and Go West, Young Man.
Having a scientific mind and a curious nature, I have searched high and
low for a place in which I might conduct my experiments with a
reasonable measure of privacy. My work also necessitates a large
quantity of the substance known as Devilstone which as you know was
discovered recently in the Black Hills of the Dakota Territories. It is
my firm belief that utilizing the most modern scientific methods, I can
create devices for the betterment of mankind. I have settled on a small
town northwest of Deadwood. Perhaps you have heard of it? They tell me
it's called Westport, but devil take me if I can find any water. Who
ever heard of a port without water?
The purpose of my letter is two-fold. I require a guard and aide. I am
not a man of fighting prowess, and I fear that my valuable equipment
would be a powerful lure for such ruffians as one can be expected to
encounter in the west. No offense, Sir, I assure you I have heard
nothing but amazing tales of your valor. I also need a brave soul, such
as the tales of your exploits assure me you are, to venture into the
Badlands to procure raw materials and specimens as will be rendered
necessary by my methods. As I needn't tell you, such ventures are as
risky as they are profitable, and I need someone with the fighting
spirit to match my inquisitive and not inconsiderable brainpower.
I can promise you will be well paid and well provided for should you
accept my proposition. Shall we meet in person to discuss? Alas, I
should have to ask you to make the journey, as someone with my
disposition isn't likely to make far journeys without the comfort of a
train. And you are not an easy man to find. I doubt even the Trackless
Train could keep up with you.
In fact, I wonder how this letter will find you. No matter.
Yours in haste,
Dr. Adam Lambert
The letter had arrived just inside doorstep of the bunkhouse which had
been his residence for the last month. He considered it for a few hours
before giving his notice to the rancher whose herd he had been guarding.
Since the meteor had collided with Devil's Tower thirteen years ago, the
Dakota Territories had become a hub of supernatural activity. Tales of
strange creatures inhabiting the Badlands, of the dead rising from their
graves, of mysterious disappearances and more trickled down from
Deadwood with surprising frequency. Kris had been content with his life
of tracking down bank robbers and solving territory disputes with the
neighboring Indian tribes. Whatever good he could do. But the good he
had done had left more than a little blood on his hands. Maybe life up
north would be less complicated. Kris was pretty sure he'd feel less
guilty about putting a bullet into a slobbering werewolf than a human
criminal, no matter how terrible his crime. Besides, how much trouble
could a scientist really get in to? Dr. Lambert was likely an
over-anxious eccentric.
Kris was eager to make a new start in Westport; make friends with his
neighbors, maybe even take a bath. It had been a long, dusty, lonely
ride. However, his new start could wait until he took a nap. In his
apparent generosity, the barkeep had filled him with an over abundance
of whiskey, and Kris felt more than a little drunk. It was a nice
welcome.
***
The bar was even busier at night, and Kris leaned back against the wall,
content to be ignored. This afternoon, he had the odd feeling that
everyone was staring at him, but given the fight that had broken out, he
must have just walked in on a bad situation. From his vantage point, he
surveyed the room. The simple wooden walls contrasted sharply with the
brass chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. A blonde woman circled the
crowd, keeping an eye on several saloon girls as they worked the room
and flirting with a bespectacled man at a table by himself. The piano
player hammered out a skillful tune, but didn't sing along to any of the
standards. Kris fought hard to keep from mumbling the words under his
breath.
He noticed "Fightin' Mac Sarver" in the crowd and nodded to him. Kris
liked a guy that stood up for people, even if he had no idea who Mac was
supposed to be standing up for. Mac tugged on his hat brim respectfully,
and it was only then that Kris saw that "Fightin' Mac" wore a gold star.
Kris was about to introduce himself when something unusual caught his
eye. A woman was in the bar, and not a whore either, a woman.
She was breathtaking, even at a distance. Even through a sea of unwashed
cowboys and ne'er do-wells. Kris's breath caught in his throat. Those
eyes. They were the exact blue of her dress, a tightly corseted silk
with black trim. Her hair was the color of a sunset, her skin the purest
alabaster but for the smattering of freckles that showed through her
powder.
The most astounding thing about her is that when she caught Kris's gaze
after sweeping the room for a moment, her eyes (those EYES) lit up in
recognition. The other men had been watching her, but as soon as they
saw the direction of her glance they had gone back to their own
business.
She floated, more than walked, to him, and Kris took a big pull from his
whiskey. In no time at all she was in front of him, and if her beauty
was stunning from a distance, it was nothing compared to the vision she
was when she was up close. Her full lips parted in a smile.
Kris pulled off his hat in a hurry. The woman was taller than him, much
taller. In fact, she was the tallest woman Kris had ever met.
"Mr. Arkansas?" She asked demurely, offering her hand.
"Madam." He said, holding out his hand to take hers. As he bent to press
his lips to her glove, she purred.
"I'm Adam."
Kris dropped her hand and took a big step backwards, forgetting he was
already so close to the wall. His head snapped back with a thud, and the
woman laughed, the mischievousness twinkling in her eyes like starlight.
Kris starred at her, stunned. He had never heard of a woman named Adam.
She continued, unabashed.
"Dr. Adam Lambert. I sent you a letter?"
"There must be some mistake." He said, stammering. The woman laughed
again, a musical sound.
"No mistake. Just an extremely successful experiment. I heard you were
in town and didn't want to wait till the effects wore off to meet you."
"The effects?" Kris bit his lip and took another pull from his glass.
"Of the experiment." Adam said, looking impatient. "You aren't a
dullard, I hope. None of the articles said you were a dullard."
"Articles?" Kris was getting more and more confused and annoyed with
himself with repeating words like a parrot from a pirate story. When he
saw Adam's face fall, dismissing him as hopelessly dim, he shook his
head. "No. No, I'm not simple, I just wasn't expectin' a man named Adam
to look so much like a lovely woman."
Kris was astonished. He had never heard of any sort of scientific
experiments causing a temporary change in gender. However, he admitted
to himself that he didn't spend much time keeping up with the latest
scientific trends. For all he knew this was run of the mill in the
Dakotas.
"Ah." Adam nodded, as if this made perfect sense. "Well, the appearance
will fade in about an hour. In fact, if you peer close enough I would
bet that you could see the beginnings of stubble. Don't, though!" Adam
said, and Kris realized he had, in fact, been leaning in. Due to their
difference in height, he was leaning right towards Adam's
more-than-ample bosom. He was so close his chin was nearly touching the
pillowy flesh. It certainly looked authentic at close range. "People
will question my honor as a lady."
"But you aren't a lady." Kris said, before tilting his head. He didn't
want to ask, but the word flew out of his mouth. "Right?"
Adam laughed lightly, and Kris felt his pulse race. Lady or no, Adam was
as lovely as Kris could have imagined, and he certainly played the part
well.
"Not for much longer. So, shall we? I have a carriage outside. You can
tie your horse to the back and ride with me. We can talk. I assume you
have more than a few questions."
"Let me just get my things and pay for the room. I rented a room." He
added, feeling a bit foolish. Then again, how was he to know the doctor
was going to meet up with him so soon.
Adam nodded and leaned towards Kris's ear.
"For appearances." He (as Kris really must begin thinking of him)
whispered, and kissed Kris lightly on the cheek. Kris felt himself
flush. "Meet me outside."
Adam's lips brushed against his ear, and Kris shook his head, wanting to
clear his thoughts. That's a man. He reminded himself. No matter what he
looks like right now.
As Kris descended the stair with his pack, he felt every eye on him.
Several of the men nodded approvingly, and Mac even patted him on the
shoulder.
"See y'all around." He said to the room at large, feeling a bit
sheepish.
"Happy Trails, Arkansas!" Mac hooted, and the men lifted their glasses.
"All the stories are true! I wonder if this will be in the Weekly?" Kris
heard someone mutter in amazement, and wondered what the man could
possibly have meant. He dismissed it as none of his business and stepped
out into the chill night air.
***
"Well, that was a rousing success." Adam said, shimmying out of the
dress as the carriage rattled along the trail. "Such a gentleman."
Kris had been averting his eyes, but couldn't help peeking just a bit.
It wasn't as if Adam was actually a woman, so there was no harm in
looking. Adam's bosom had already shrunk and his waist had expanded,
giving him the shape of a man rather than the narrow-waisted hourglass
figure he had possessed only a moment before.
"I'll spare you the transformation below my pantaloons." Adam said.
"It's shocking the first time you see it."
Kris snapped his mouth shut, only now aware that he had been staring
with his mouth open. However, it fell open again as the long red hair
fell from Adam's head, like feathers. The hair beneath it was wild and
ink-black. Kris was momentarily distracted. Though Adam looked
completely different once the effects of whatever concoction he had
mixed up dissipated, he looked strikingly similar to the "woman" as
well. The eyes were the same, gleaming sapphire color, and his lips
framed a smile that made the doctor look perpetually amused.
"How on earth... Why would you...WHAT?" Kris asked several questions at
once, and hoped he wasn't being rude. Out in the furthest reaches of the
west, he had heard tell of men that dressed like women, when the real
thing was scarce. Somehow he didn't think that this was what the stories
were talking about.
Adam only laughed, pulling on a white shirt and slipping a pair of
suspendered trousers on over the frilly white pantaloons. "It's an
elixir I've been working on. I am hoping to alter the formula so that
the effects last longer. I can only manage a few hours right now."
"Why would you want to be a woman?" Kris asked, feeling a blush rise in
his cheeks.
Adam looked astounded, as if he had never considered that idea. "Oh, I
don't." He wrinkled his nose. "It's not bad for awhile I suppose. But,
Kristopher, you are missing the bigger picture. Imagine the
implications! Espionage, traveling in disguise, theatre! I'm curious to
see if it would work in the other direction."
"The other direction?" Kris asked, feeling hopelessly lost.
"Imagine if a woman could turn into a man temporarily! Why, she could
purchase her own land, vote in political elections, travel without fear
of misfortune. It would change the very fabric of our society!"
"I suppose it would." Kris nodded, eyes wide. It was an understatement,
to be sure.
"You see now why I have need of a guard." Adam said, his voice taking on
a distinctly confrontational tone. "I am sorry if I didn't mention
the...questionable nature of some of my experiments in my letter. I
didn't want it to fall into the wrong hands."
Kris nodded, rubbing the back of his neck with his left hand. Another
understatement. The more religious folk in his hometown would have cast
him out as a demon.
"Though from what I read of you, you seem like you have an open mind."
"What do you mean, reading about me? I am surprised you even know who I
am. I suppose there might have been a few articles in the local paper,
when I was a Marshall, but that was years ago."
Adam blinked.
"You can't be serious. Even a greenhorn like me knows about Krissy the
Kid. Or Arkansas, as you like to be called."
"I like to be called that?"
"Don't you?" Adam said. "It says so in Weird West Weekly."
"What's-"
Adam cut him off.
"You don't read it? I thought everyone did. In fact, everyone does. It's
newsletter, one of the most subscribed to publications in the country.
And you're in nearly every issue."
If Kris was shocked by Dr. Lambert's gender-swapping antics, it was
nothing compared to the news that he was apparently a celebrity. Now
that he thought about it, it certainly explained a lot.
"My, my you really are a dullard, aren't you?" Adam clucked.
"I suppose I am." Kris said, shaking his head.
"No matter. You'll do. Why, your reputation alone should keep me safe,
once your arrival here hits the W-3." Adam waved his hand dismissively
as the carriage slowed to a stop.
"Dr-"
"Call me Adam." Adam insisted, laying a hand on Kris's shoulder as he
rose. "And get your things." Kris tried to interject again, but Adam
continued. "Don't mind the horse, Scott will be out in a moment to take
care of him. What were you saying?"
"Adam." Kris took a breath. Getting a word in edgewise was clearly going
to be a challenge. "Does it hurt?"
Adam blinked at him. "What?"
Kris flushed again, grateful for the cover of darkness.
"The...change."
"Oh. Like a bitch. But only on the way in." Adam snickered, stepping out
of the coach and beckoning Kris to follow. "The way out is quite a
relief. I wonder if it would be the opposite the other way around. I
wish Mama Lil would let me try."
"Mama Lil?" Kris was confused again, and latched on to the only part of
Adam's statement that made any sense. Did his mother live with him?
"In a moment. Is that you, Scott?" Adam called to a figure waiting just
out of sight. "He always meets me outside. Swears he can hear me
coming." Adam added, mumbling to Kris as he lit a torch.
"Of course I can." The man said, stepping forward into the torchlight.
Kris gasped, shocked for the third time of the evening.
The man before him was thin and tall, with a huge head of blond curls.
However, the thick mop was not his most distinguishing characteristic.
No, that designation belonged to the metal gadget ... Kris supposed they
were goggles of a sort ... strapped around his eyes. The lenses made his
eyes look huge, and metal rings clacked and whirred, irises adjusting to
the light.
"Pleased to meet you." Kris said, feeling guilty for gasping and
starring. One would think seeing a woman turn into a man would make
anything else less surprising. He scolded himself. "I'm-"
"Krissy the Kid, I've read all about you. I'm Scott, Dr. Lambert's
assistant."
"Assistant?" Kris repeated, feeling like a parrot again. He hoped that
he'd regain his ability to ask questions in full sentences sometime
soon.
Scott laughed. " Lab Assistant and stable boy, I guess. Prestigious,
right? It's a long story, but I'll let the doctor fill you in. He's
completely batshit but brilliant." Scott said, ignoring the fact that
Dr. Lambert was standing well within earshot. "He made me these." Scott
continued, tapping his goggles. "Blind as a bat without 'em. So I pretty
much do as told. It has its benefits. I can see AND watch the genius at
work, even help out a bit. Plus he pays me. Can't complain."
"Sorry to hear. That you're blind. Glad you can see." Kris stammered. He
chanced a glance up at Adam, who was smirking towards Scott.
"You dazzled him, didn't you?" Scott asked after appraising Kris's face
for a moment. "I'd recognize that expression even without the specs.
Adam, you've got stop making passes on people while you're a woman, it's
not fair."
"I have to see how completely the transformation works. It's research."
Adam protested.
"Spare me the details." Scott said, laughing. "I don't need to hear how
you wooed Krissy the Kid before revealing your true identity."
"Oh, it wasn't like that. He was a perfect lady." Kris protested
earnestly. Realizing how absurd he sounded, he laughed along with Scott
and Adam.
"My Hero." Dr. Lambert grinned. "Your mama raised you right."
"Are you three gonna come in or do I have to eat this meal on my own?" A
woman's voice called from the direction of the house.
"Comin' Mama!" Adam and Scott called in unison.
"Me too!" Kris shouted, not wanting to be left out. The three men
walked in companionable silence toward the house. Kris couldn't make out
much detail in the dim light, but in the hazy pink of the fading
twilight, he could see a large house clad in cedar shakes. There were at
least eight chimneys, and Kris thought he could see a rambling network
of pipes snaking through the roofline and on behind the house.
~~~
Dinner was a pleasant affair. Mama Lil turned out not to be Adam's
mother. She was as different looking from Adam as you could get, with
her long dark hair and skin the color of cocoa. Her smile, like his,
could light up the room. In fact, that was a trait all three of the
residents here had in common. They all looked inexplicably happy. Kris
wanted to fit in, but he found he didn't even have to try. It was
contagious. Before he knew it they were swapping stories.
Lil had met "Dr. Adam" in New Orleans. He had hired her away from his
distant relatives he had come to visit, and consequently was no longer
welcome in their home. Adam said it was worth it, though, and Lil had
blushed. She assisted him with welding on any metalwork, and ran his
household seeing as Adam had never been married Adam had rolled his
eyes when Kris asked about a wife.
"You sound like my mother."
"Well, she wants some gorgeous grandchildren. Just look at yourself!"
Lil had interjected. "Isn't he the prettiest?" She asked Kris, who
stammered.
"I suppose so."
Adam arched an eyebrow.
"I suppose you thought I was prettier in the dress."
"No!" Kris said, flushing crimson. "Yes! I mean... it was different.
Both ways are nice. I mean. Either. You look just fine."
Scott slapped his knee. "Man, I can see you blushing from here." Scott
had taken off his glasses and was reclining on a chair near the
fireplace.
"I'm not!" Kris said, but he couldn't help laughing at the situation. He
normally wouldn't have commented on another man's appearance, but the
three eccentrics had put him at his ease.
"Don't worry about it, nothing to be ashamed of." Lil said. "We all
think he's just precious." She pinched Adam's cheek and gave it a good
shake. "Though you might give him a run for his money. You are so much
cuter than the drawings in the Weekly give you credit for."
Kris flushed and stammered a "thank you" but his mind had already moved
past her compliment. There was that word again. Weekly. Everyone used
it as if they were referring to a publication as common as the New York
Times. Kris had never seen it.
"Sorry. I hate to ask, but I've never heard of the Weekly. Which is
strange because apparently I feature heavily. Where is it published?"
Scott fumbled around in a basket next to his chair and tossed a
folded-up bundle of what looked like newspaper towards Kris. It missed
by a good few feet, but Adam retrieved it, holding a finger to his lips
and fighting down a smile as he handed it over to Kris.
"The Weird West Weekly...Words Wired from the West" was emblazoned on
the cover, framing a picture of a shambling creature, half man and half
snake in front of a setting sun and a cactus.
"I'M in this?" Kris asked incredulously. It looked like it had been
printed on an antique press from a rather worn set of plates.
"Usually." Adam peered over his shoulder, leaning in for a closer look.
"Yes, you should be on page twelve. They put the more fantastic news up
front, the gun-slinging comes later."
Kris scanned the article. It was a story that detailed his involvement
in bringing a gang of train-robbers to justice. The gist of the story
was correct, but he noticed a few details, like the number of men, had
been fudged. The story implied that he had turned in 5, but hung the
three ringleaders from a tree. In actuality, there had been only four
robbers. One had taken a bullet but lived to tell the tale. The article
had been written by someone called "The Snoop."
"They all go by pen names. That way you don't recognize them in the
field." Adam explained when Kris had pointed out the strange author.
...Or hold them accountable for inaccuracies. Kris silently added. He
flipped the paper over. It was published in North Carolina. This issue
was a few months old.
"Have any more of these?" Kris asked. Adam nodded.
"They're all in the library. We kept this one out cause Lil likes the
picture."
Kris flipped back to the article, and sure enough, there was a drawing
of Kris, wearing a menacing scowl and pointing a six-shooter.
"I think you look tough!" Lil said encouragingly, patting Kris on the
shoulder as he flushed.
"I hope I don't disappoint." Kris said, brushing the back of his neck.
"Oh, no." Adam reassured him. "You look even better in person than you
do in print." Unfortunately, Kris chose this moment to yawn widely,
making Lil coo.
"Look at him. He's tuckered out. Where are your manners, Dr. Adam? You
show him to his bed while Scott and I clean up." Scott sighed loudly,
pulling on his glasses.
Kris started to protest, but Lil hushed him and shoo'd them both out of
the dining room.
"Nice." He said to Adam absentmindedly.
"Lil? Or the house?"
"Both. Everyone, Scott too. You too. We didn't talk much about the job,
but I hope it works out. I like it here already." In truth, Kris hadn't
looked around the house much. It was spacious in comparison to anywhere
else he had lived, and Adam led him down a long corridor towards the
bedrooms, he presumed. The light from the candle flickered as Kris
caught a glimpse of mirrors and paintings. He couldn't wait to see the
house in the daylight.
"In here." Adam said, opening a door. He busied about the room, lighting
a few candles so Kris could get oriented.
"It's immense." Kris said appreciatively.
"I'm just next door. Actually, we share a bathroom."
"A BATHROOM?" Kris goggled. He had never so lived anywhere with indoor
plumbing. He had heard of it in New York City, but never had so much as
seen a diagram of how they worked.
"It's a system I worked up. Too cumbersome for mass production but it
works. Here, anyways. It's Devilstone powered, like most of my
inventions." Kris walked into the room, his boots clacking against the
wooden floor. He touched a metal lever and after a few moments and a
sputtering noise, a bit of cold water flowed from a spigot.
"Let me show you." Adam said, and placed his hand on top of Kris's.
"Working the lever up and down produces a build up of pressure in the
pipes. I generally find ten pumps enough to do the trick. When you've
built up enough pressure, simply swing the lever left and it releases
into the basin." He directed Kris's hand, and Kris marveled at the
stream of water that shot out of the spout.
"The same basic premise is used for the bathing area. I like to take
baths." He explained. "If you want to take a bath you've got to head
over to the tank room and light a fire beneath the water tank. The fire
heats the water and then you can have a warm bath." Adam looked at
Kris's face, which Kris knew was a mask of astonishment. He had never
been good at concealing his emotions. "It's crude compared to the
systems back east, but on the frontier we all must make do."
"The water..." Kris shook his head. "I'm amazed. Truly. This is amazing.
You are amazing."
"See why I need a guard? If the folks in town knew I had running water,
there would be lines out my door." Adam swallowed, as if the thought of
keeping water from the population offended him. "But it's only a secret
till I figure out how to make it work on a large scale. Imagine,
Kristopher, a system for the entire town! People could be clean more,
have access to water wherever they lived. It could save lives. It could
revolutionize the West!"
"It's unbelievable." Kris said honestly. "I'm afraid I am going to wake
up and be back in The Golden Calf. This can't be real."
"It's real, I promise. But you've had a long, confusing day and I'm
keeping you. Feel free to knock if you need anything, I'm just through
the other bathroom door. Or you could go through the hall if you wanted
I suppose, but that would be a waste of time. I'm up most of the night
reading anyway, so don't worry about disturbing me. I don't sleep much."
Kris just shook his head incredulously as Adam disappeared through the
door to his bedroom.
"Good night, Dr. Lambert." He called, heading back to his room.
"Good night, Arkansas." Came a cheery reply. Kris pulled off his boots
and folded his clothes on top of the chest at the end of his bed, as
eager to go to sleep as he was to wake up the next morning.
***
EPITAPH
The Snoop finished his article and re-read it with satisfaction. He made
a mental note to drop it off at the depot tomorrow, before the trackless
train took him north. It would be an interesting journey. The Snoop
smiled eagerly to himself. Tailing Krissy the Kid always made for an
interesting journey, but this trek promised an even more interesting
destination.
"Well folks, your favorite pint-sized pioneer has left the south,
riding hard for scarier pastures in the Dakota Territories. I have it on
good authority he's the new gun hand for area scientist Dr. Lambert.
Yes, that's the same man whose last laboratory blew up just outside of
New York City. Let's hope he's learned his lesson. You no-good-nicks out
there might want to keep that in mind if you're fixin' for an easy score
in Westport. If Krissy The Kid's gunhand don't get you, Dr. Lambert's
mad antics certainly will. Barring either fate, your intrepid reporter
will bring you the news as soon as it happens. That's "when," not "if"
dear readers. These two legends-in-the-making will keep the pages
filled, or I'm not "The Snoop."
Yep. It would be an interesting journey, indeed. The Snoop pulled off
his trousers and resolved to spend one more quiet night in Texas before
heading north into God-Knows-What.
READ MORE OF THE ADVENTURES OF DR. LAMBERT AND KRISSY THE KID IN CHAPTER
TWO: THE TALE OF MATTY THE MUTE