Wild Bill III
“Nonsense,” Wild Bill pronounced. “You look great!”
The man had ordered his family not to look at him while he wore the dress. Wild Bill winked when he caught the children stealing peaks, chuckling to each other. The truth of it was that their mother would not fit into the dress; she had a hearty frame that made her much more capable of physically defending the children than her husband. The children’s father was all legs and knees; a jeweler, Wild Bill had learned. It made sense. The dress fit the man well but left much more of him exposed than anyone was happy about. While they traveled the rest of the way to Bread Town, the man wore his normal clothing over the dress. Wild Bill instructed him to discard the excess clothing now.
“You can do it!” Wild Bill encouraged. No sense in wasting any more time. The sun would set soon.
“You said a word would come to me?” The man asked. “Like, in my head?” His body had shrunken even more than usual from his discomfort.
“You got it,” Wild Bill said. “The dress will tell you how to work it!”
“Don’t you know?”
“What’s the fun in that? Come on, if this plan of yours is going to work, you’ve gotta listen to the dress!” Wild Bill had, in fact, spent some time in the dress himself before he found the family. It was the only way to find out.
“You can do it, Dad!” One of the children cheered.
“Turn around!” The man growled. “The only thing I’m thinkin’ about is corn. Had a hankering all afternoon, for some reason.”
“And would you look at that!” Wild Bill nodded in approval. “Children, wherever has your father gotten to?” They gasped to find Wild Bill standing alone.
The children’s awe and speechlessness awakened a childish piece of Wild Bill. Oh, to be young and innocent.
“Hot dang!” The man said. “Sorry, don’t mean to curse.”
“Now no one can see you in that beautiful dress,” Wild Bill said. “A real shame. Alright, take this.” Wild Bill reached into his pocket and offered a small bean to the air in front of him. He felt the man pick it up. The bean disappeared as if lost between a blink of the eyes. “Don’t go losing it now. And remember: I need one hour.”
“One hour, got it.” The man spoke, though he was now invisible. Wild Bill stared for a moment. The man had probably left.
They stood in a clearing in the woods. They were well off trail; this family had directed him here. The man claimed he would have no problem finding this spot again. Wild Bill had to trust him.
It was one thing to save a family you encountered on the road. It was another to agree to travel with them. It was even another, much more absurd thing, to agree to some hair-brained scheme to save their friends and family.
Wild Bill turned to look at the remaining troupe. “Alrighty, I’m off then. Hopefully be back right quick.”
“Be careful, Mr. Bill!” One of the children said to him. They really should have said that to their father, who could’ve used some good luck. But he was invisible, so Wild Bill forgave the children their ignorance.
“I worked hard to be Wild Bill, ya know. We’ll be alright. Don’t go giving Fella too many carrots, now.” The sentient rug floated next to him. It dropped into position so Wild Bill could hop aboard. It bolted, racing through the woods. It gained speed as they put distance between themselves and the wagon. Trees flew passed them in a blur. Wild Bill relaxed; he trusted the rug completely.
Why, by the Dragon of Sars Isle, had he agreed to this plan?
The family looked helpless when he found them. He couldn’t leave them alone on the road like that. It was a simple thing to let the children rest their tired legs in his cart. He and Fella had plenty of food to make sure the family didn’t go hungry. How could he turn them away? And then they pleaded. “You have to help. You just have to!” They begged.
His curiosity had gotten the better of him. The Bread Town this family described wasn’t the same Bread Town Wild Bill had wondered through some weeks ago. It seemed impossibly different from the Bread Town he’d been visiting for years. But he had found this family tied up by a bunch of thugs. Why would they lie to him? Wild Bill had to see for himself.
The rug slowed on the outskirts of town, soundlessly gliding up behind a building. It responded as Wild Bill gently tugged its tassels, guiding it toward the jailhouse.
Wild Bill heard the ground shake. The buildings quivered like an earthquake rumbled them. He glanced off in the distance: a giant beanstalk shot toward the sky. It was as big around as any oak Wild Bill had ever seen. It pierced the clouds and continued to grow.
“Dang. I gave him the wrong bean,” Wild Bill frowned. “Hardly half an hour, to boot.” He heard an alarm sound, followed by some panicked yelling.
“Magics! Magics by the river!” Several guards ran away from the jailhouse. Wild Bill hopped off the rug and peered around the corner of the building. Another man rushed out carrying a pitchfork and hastily donning a jacket. Wild Bill noticed keys jangling from the man’s hip.
“Ah! MM!” He squealed and pointed, looking at the rug. It flew passed him after the guard. The whole town seemed to be in a panic. No one noticed the rug fly up, flip the guard’s keyring with a tassel, and fly the keys back to Wild Bill. He high-fived the rug. “Too easy,” he said. “Great work.” The rug looked proud. It had mastered humanoid mannerisms. It was, quite possibly, one of Wild Bill’s best friends. A disturbing thought.
He rounded the corner of the building and peeked inside the door. The place looked empty. He walked inside and found several cells jam-packed with wide-eyed citizens.
“Hello there, they call me Wild Bill.” They stared back at him as he tried a key to one of the cell locks. “Everyone remain calm. We’re going to gather behind the building. Take a left on your way out.” Wild Bill tried another key. “Then we’ll follow the rug to a hiding spot in the woods.” The prisoners’ eyes shifted and got wider, looking beyond Wild Bill to his rug sidekick. Finally, a key worked. He opened the door, and the hesitant prisoners shuffled out. They followed the rug outside while Wild Bill moved to unlock another cell.
“Some friends of yours tell me some of you can use some magic,” Wild Bill glanced at them while he tried another key. “Any useful tricks in case the guards come back?”
One of the prisoners held up a pair of shackled hands. “No magic with these on. Prevents it.” Wild Bill frowned. Magic blocking manacles. Not good.
Wild Bill hurried the last of the prisoners out of the building. There were more of them than the family had said. There was time to think still; he had to finish getting them out of here. Wild Bill stepped outside the building. The rug flew beside the door, waiting for him.
Wild Bill heard it before he saw it. Then he had to comprehend. The rug was nailed to the side of the building by an arrow. Someone had just shot it. The arrow quivered. The rug pulled outward in exasperation.
“Run!” Wild Bill shouted. He grabbed the arrow shaft in two hands and snapped it. He ducked and pulled the rug free. It hit the ground limp and fluttered back into the air. Wild Bill looked out into the town and saw the archer loading another arrow.
“Jailbreak! Jailbreak!”
Wild Bill looked at the rug. “Lead them away! I’ll draw them off!” The rug bounced dutifully and raced off after the group of prisoners fleeing toward the woods.
Wild Bill saw people racing toward him. The archer had an arrow nocked. “I told him. One hour.”
Previous Chapter: https://therealzsmith.com/2023/03/31/resistance-chapter-12/
Next Chapter: https://therealzsmith.com/2023/04/14/resistance-chapter-14/
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