{"id":21,"date":"2007-08-19T00:00:31","date_gmt":"2007-08-19T04:00:31","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/?p=21"},"modified":"2022-12-05T16:46:01","modified_gmt":"2022-12-05T21:46:01","slug":"no-right","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/articles\/no-right\/","title":{"rendered":"No Right"},"content":{"rendered":"

\u201cO<\/strong><\/span>f course my employees have the right to leave at any time, with notice or without it, Mr. Lang.\u201d Nolan\u2019s unctuous voice filled the large office. \u201cThe deuce of it is, he took my favorite speeder.\u201d Nolan leaned back in his chair, his soft hands gripping the polished oak desk. Real wood was a rarity here in the Sierra sector; Nolan had imported the desk all the way from the Middle Colonies, and it had been worth every credit. Few dared argue when in front of that expanse of glossy wood. But the current occupant of the opposite chair seemed immune to the desk. In his torn jeans, his grey duster, and his beaten leather hat, Lang was utterly out of place in the rich setting. It didn\u2019t bother him much; Lang was comfortable anywhere. He leaned back, long legs crossed, hat pulled down. Nolan continued. \u201cAnd that\u2019s why I want you, the man they call the Red Coyote.\u201d Nolan sniffed the name.<\/p>\n

Lang cocked his hat with his thumb. \u201cBecause I\u2019m the best?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHardly!\u201d Nolan\u2019s laughter bounced off the walls. \u201cBecause you\u2019re the cheapest!\u201d<\/p>\n

Lang shrugged. \u201cI sometimes find it convenient to work for certain rates.\u201d There was a picture frame face-down on Nolan\u2019s desk. Lang idly picked it up. He caught a glimpse of a woman \u2014 blonde, a pretty young thing \u2014 before Nolan snatched it from him.<\/p>\n

\u201cConvenient, eh? Certain rates, eh? You mean no one will hire a stinking nimo<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

Without a word, the Coyote stood and turned to leave.<\/p>\n

\u201cWait!\u201d Nolan barked. \u201cJust testing you. Got a tiger in a cage, here, Mr. Lang, and I can\u2019t resist poking it. Sit down, sit down.\u201d He waved to the chair, suddenly servile. The hairs on Lang\u2019s neck prickled. Nolan\u2019s grin twisted into a sneer. \u201cAnd the fact of the matter is, Lang, that my man checked the fuel level in your scow when you arrived, and I happen to know you\u2019re running on empty. He also informed me that your ship\u2019s missing a couple solar panels \u2014 something no one would go long without, by choice. Can\u2019t pay the mechanic, eh, Mr. Lang?\u201d Nolan chuckled. His face flushed pink. \u201cAnd I also happen to know \u2014 just because I make a point of happening to know \u2014 that you owe half a million credits to Brewster in Nova Cali, a quarter million to the Seljuks out Paiso way, and fifteen to your dear mother back in the Midworlds.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWolves are at the door, all right,\u201d Lang mumbled from beneath his hat.<\/p>\n

Nolan\u2019s voice grew low and deadly. \u201cAnd I think you\u2019re willing to snatch up any scraps I throw you, Coyote. So listen to me when I tell you, you Nova Texana piece of shit, that I\u2019m going to call you any damned thing I like, and you\u2019re going to call me \u2018sir\u2019 in return. You don\u2019t have to like it. I just want you to be clear on that. Clear?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTake off your goddamned hat when you talk to me.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lang peeled off his hat and glared at Nolan. He brushed back his long coal-black hair and glared at Nolan with eyes the color of galvanized nails.<\/p>\n

Nolan leaned forward and tugged at the thin solitary braid that hung over the right side of Lang\u2019s face. \u201cWhat the fuck is this?\u201d he cried, delighted. \u201cA nimo through and through. I\u2019ve had you Indigs work on my ranch before, but none with the \u2014 what do you call it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTaiyo<\/em>,\u201d Lang said. \u201cIt\u2019s a remembrance of \u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n

Nolan flipped the taiyo disdainfully. \u201cWhatever. That\u2019s your business. And as for my business! This cowpoke, dumb shit name of Parker, took off overnight. No notice, nothing, just took my Buceph M-5 and punched out. Don\u2019t mind him leaving, just want the ship back. Of course\u201d\u00a6 I want him prosecuted to the full extent of the law, what law there is in the Sierra sector. So you bring him back and I\u2019ll throw you a scrap. Go see Chief. He\u2019ll point you in the right direction, and you climb in your rustbucket and go get my man. Then you can go drink yourself silly at Saneway Station or get stoned on your nimoa. Any questions?\u201d<\/p>\n

Lang shook his head. He didn\u2019t want to waste any more words on Nolan than he had to.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen get the fuck outta my office, you nimoa-stinking aborigine.\u201d The door slammed halfway through the sentence.<\/p>\n

F<\/strong><\/span>uming, Lang stalked over to the hangar. It was a long walk. The Lazy J ranch was huge, the biggest on Mohav. There was only so much usable land to go around on the sun-stricken planet, and Nolan had bought up most of it two years ago after the government opened it for resettlement. Few trusted the shield generators that made the land (barely) habitable not to fail again; three years ago, they had overloaded and dropped their protection of the planet, and a hundred thousand settlers had perished in flames. So Nolan was able to purchase a ranch the size of a small continent at a bargain rate.<\/p>\n

Even with the shields operational, it was damned hot. As the Coyote walked for the hangar, broiling in his own rage, the ranch was engaged in a mandatory siesta. Work was impossible under the enormous orange sun, and heat-limp vaqueros lounged in every scrap of shade. Lang could feel their collective gaze on him as he passed \u2014 felt them eye his taiyo, his leather hat, his nimoa pouch and black hair, all the things that marked him as an Indig. No doubt in cooler weather someone would want to pick a fight, or at least call some insult, but now \u2014 too damn hot.<\/p>\n

By the time the Coyote reached the hangar, his fury had subsided. He shouldn\u2019t let Nolan get under his skin that way. Nolan was no more capable of humiliating him than a turnip was. That fat bastard meant nothing to an Indig, to a palsano<\/em>, one who lives by his paws. He flung open the hangar door.<\/p>\n

\u201cGet your lazy carcass off the floor, Chief.\u201d He prodded the recumbent form with a pointed boot. \u201cI got work to do.\u201d<\/p>\n

The short man stirred. \u201cWhassish?\u201d<\/p>\n

The Coyote kicked him stoutly. \u201cYour boss says I see you about details. On this Parker.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat.\u201d Chief sat up, rubbing his eyes. \u201cYeah, Parker. Took off with the M-5. Sweet rig. Won\u2019t make it far, though.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy not? Where would he go, anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe can\u2019t make planetbreak with it. He\u2019ll have to get a flight out in Shepherd Post, and our guys there haven\u2019t seen him yet. If he tries to go through there, they\u2019ll pick him up, no problem.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo why am I on this job?\u201d Lang asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cLike I said, we haven\u2019t seen him yet. And if he ain\u2019t here at ranch HQ, and he ain\u2019t at Shepherd Post, he\u2019s somewhere else in a desert one thousand miles by one thousand miles. Give or take.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo tracker in the Buceph?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s the boss\u2019s speeder, right? Why would there be a tracker?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIn case someone \u2014 never mind. And how long ago was this?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThree days.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lang cursed. \u201cSo he could be anywhere by now. You got eyes out for him?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan\u2019t really spare the manpower. Bringing the herd in this week.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s around here besides Shepherd Post?\u201d<\/p>\n

Chief shrugged. \u201cJust some scattered camps out near water, tending parts of the herd. They don\u2019t all have coms, though, so we can\u2019t contact \u2018em.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou run a tight ship here, don\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot much competition to worry about out here in the Sierra sector.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo you guys can take it easy. You can charge whatever you want for a head, and people will pay it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, pretty much.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lang cracked his knuckles. \u201cGlad I\u2019m not a moral man, or I might take objection to that.\u201d<\/p>\n

Chief stretched. \u201cTake objection all you want, Indig. What are you doing?\u201d<\/p>\n

Lang stood at the open hangar door, staring out into the hard-baked desert. The air shimmered with the intense heat of midday. It seemed that all straight lines in existence \u2014 the craggy outlines of the scattered boulders, the stark symmetry of Lang\u2019s ship, the parallel bars of the corral \u2014 were melting and drooping under the sun. Lang closed his eyes and sniffed the air. \u201cI\u2019m scenting my prey,\u201d Lang said. He lifted his head sharply, like a dog perking at hearing its name. A wolfish smile spread on his narrow face. \u201cThere he is.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhoa,\u201d Chief breathed. \u201cLike a\u201d\u00a6\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI get why they call you Coyote,\u201d Chief said. \u201cWhy the \u2018Red\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

Lang patted the double-barreled Colt at his hip. \u201cThings I\u2019d rather not talk about.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhoa,\u201d Chief said. Lang hid his smile. Not entirely lies. He just gave Chief a little fodder for his imagination, and word would get around, and Lang\u2019s reputation would increase. Of course he couldn\u2019t scent his prey. He had an ion emission analyzer in his pocket that would lead him to Parker. As for the \u2018Red\u2019 \u2014 well, let Chief believe what he wanted to believe.<\/p>\n

\u201cFuel up my Nelly,\u201d Lang said. \u201cI want to get out there and run this guy to ground.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBoss said any fuel comes outta your paycheck.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lang brushed back his duster just a little, let Chief get a good look at the long-barreled Colt hanging on his hip.<\/p>\n

Chief raised his hands. \u201cOr I don\u2019t have to tell him. That\u2019s cool.\u201d<\/p>\n

T<\/strong><\/span>he Mercron Econocraft II streaked across the sands. It was an old ship, and had been a cheap craft even when it was new. Only attentive maintenance and a fair amount of prayer kept the thing aloft. It looked somewhat like an old pontoon boat. The two-seater cockpit was far back, almost in the center of the craft, and after the cockpit the fuselage split into two long pontoons. They also functioned as landing skids. To the rear was the stack of huge, powerful, and utterly unreliable engines. Lang had refitted the small cargo compartment to be pressurized and heated; it could safely and securely transport a single human being. Just below the cockpit Lang had painted \u201cNelly\u201d.<\/p>\n

He checked his emissions analyzer. The gadget was his secret weapon. There wasn\u2019t another like it in the Sierra sector, and Lang never regretted stealing it. The analyzer could detect and trace any ion trail up to five days old; if his quarry had taken a ship, Lang could find him.<\/p>\n

More accurately, he could find the ship. And if that ship had suffered an engine malfunction, lost altitude, and dug a hundred-yard furrow in the earth before colliding with a boulder, then the emissions analyzer could help him no more. He cursed and set Nelly down near the wreck. He was being paid to find the man, not the ship. Better check to see if Parker had survived.<\/p>\n

Strange, the Coyote mused. Even before Parker had wrapped the Buceph around a boulder, it hadn\u2019t been that nice a ship. In fact, Lang realized, it was strictly a budget craft, probably under ten thousand credits, hardly the sort of ship Nolan would prize. Maybe it had sentimental value. Not his problem anyway. He leapt to one askew wing, and from there to the cockpit. Empty. He scanned the shimmering desert. Just as empty. After further combing, he spotted shallow footprints, barely discernible and half-filled with windblown sand. He decided to follow on foot; by ship he might lose the trail.<\/p>\n

Lang took two canteens from Nelly\u2019s cargo hold, checked his Colt, and set off. The sun punished him as if he had made a personal enemy of it, but he paid no mind. Nova Texana was just as hot as Mohav, if not hotter.<\/p>\n

The Coyote walked evenly and with purpose, his stride eating up the miles. Soon a low dark mass appeared on the horizon \u2014 trees? Buildings? No doubt he\u2019d find Parker there.<\/p>\n

As he approached, the wavering shapes resolved themselves into crumbling towers and walls. Buildings, then, probably the homes of the first generation of Mohav settlers, constructed of sandstone blocks cut from the desert bedrock. The last rays of the day fired the ruined walls in every shade of orange, purple, and red, and shadows played wild and malevolent in the corridors of the extinct village.<\/p>\n

If this area had once held life, then it also held water, the Coyote reasoned. Parker would stay near the water until \u2014 help came? Until he starved? What plan could he have? Lang frowned; Parker had no plan. His speeder had crashed, further flight was impossible, and now he could only wait to die. Lang would have to be careful. He had faced this sort of desperation before, and it always ended ugly.<\/p>\n

Colt in hand, he approached the village, ears pricked for the slightest sound. Ahead, tumbled in the lee of a low wall, he saw a blackened thing repulsively suggestive of a human form. His instincts screaming to the contrary, the Coyote prodded it with his foot and turned up a charred skull, tethered to the rest of the scorched skeleton by some lingering leathery sinews. He looked away. With a land grab to organize, of course Nolan couldn\u2019t be bothered to come and clean up a few shreds of flesh way out here in the desert.<\/p>\n

Lang stepped over the corpse and entered the city.<\/p>\n

In the courtyard before him a stack of corpses perpetually, silently screamed their agony \u2014 two small ones, two big ones. A family, caught outside at the wrong moment. Lang stood transfixed. A shot shattered the calm, and stone chips pelted his face. The Coyote threw himself to the ground \u2014 where had that come from? He rolled behind a pile of rubble and ran over a mental photograph of the surrounding area. A second-story window \u2014 the slumped steeple of a church \u2014 any number of collapsed walls. All could hide a sniper.<\/p>\n

\u201cParker!\u201d Lang shouted. \u201cShoot at me if that\u2019s you, Parker.\u201d The crack of a rifle and the whine of a ricochet. Lang wished his pile of rubble were bigger. \u201cAll right, then!\u201d That second shot had given him the shooter\u2019s location; Parker was undoubtedly in the ruined belfry of the church, perhaps a dozen yards across the courtyard.<\/p>\n

Lang rolled, firing two shots blindly at the church, hoping Parker would take cover, and dashed for a low wall. He dove over it as a shot kicked a spray of sand at his feet.<\/p>\n

He scraped along on his belly the length of the courtyard, the whole time aware of Parker waiting for him to expose his head, a hair, a hand, anything for Parker to put a bullet through. The wall ended a few feet away from a window in the church wall. If he tried to spring across that gap, Parker would surely gun him down. \u201cHe\u2019s in the belfry!\u201d Lang shouted. \u201cFlank him, boys!\u201d He listened and waited.<\/p>\n

After a moment he heard someone scuffling down stone stairs; Parker was abandoning the belfry. True enough, Lang thought; no one ever gave him credit for being smart. With a coil and explosion of sinewy muscles, the Coyote barreled through the brittle window, shedding shards of glass from his duster. Blindness seized him for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the utter darkness; as his vision returned he realized that he was not alone in the church. There must have been a service when the shields failed. The church was full. But these settlers had not been scorched by the sunlight; in their shelter, they had not burned, just stifled in the unfathomable heat, and the dry desert had preserved<\/em> them\u201d\u00a6<\/p>\n

He shut that out. Focus on the mission.<\/p>\n

Then he saw Parker standing before him for one half-moment, trembling hands gripping a rifle, face pale and drawn with panic. The Coyote was stunned; he was expecting a typical hard-bitten, weather-beaten ranch hand, but Parker was barely more than a boy, and a good-looking boy at that, with a full head of brown hair and a delicate, fine-featured face. Lang opened his mouth to say something, but the rifle barrel came up, and there was no more time for words.<\/p>\n

The rifle spat a roaring plume of flame, and Lang lunged, ducking under the shot; a slower man would have taken the bullet. He closed the distance between them in two steps and whipped the barrel of his pistol up and into Parker\u2019s skull. The blow sent the boy sprawling, and the Coyote was on him in a second, Bowie knife out and pressed to Parker\u2019s throat. \u201cI don\u2019t have <\/em>to bring you back alive,\u201d he said. \u201cI can say you resisted. You want that?\u201d<\/p>\n

Parker went limp and Lang removed the knife. \u201cGood to see you act sensible,\u201d he said. \u201cFirst smart thing you\u2019ve done in I don\u2019t know how \u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n

Parker\u2019s hand shot to his pocket. Lang bashed the pommel of the knife into his forehead and he fell back, unconscious and bleeding. Lang took a pearl-handled derringer from Parker\u2019s lax fingers. \u201cNot bad,\u201d he said, and pocketed it. \u201cCompensation for dragging your stupid ass back to Nelly.\u201d<\/p>\n

T<\/strong><\/span>he Coyote left the city, Parker slung over his shoulder. The night was cool and good for walking. As he walked, he turned things over in his mind. Something didn\u2019t sit right with him. Parker\u2019s youth and handsomeness, the face-down portrait in Nolan\u2019s office, the evident worthlessness of the Buceph speeder\u201d\u00a6 taken separately, none were too strange, but together they formed a lump that slid around in Lang\u2019s gut and gave him no ease.<\/p>\n

They approached Nelly, and Parker returned to consciousness with a few restive murmurs. Lang dropped him in the sand. \u201cChrist, my head,\u201d he moaned, touching his wounds tentatively.<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah,\u201d Lang said. \u201cHelluva lot better than a bullet in the brain. You\u2019re lucky in that respect.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re an Indig,\u201d Parker said. \u201cWhy\u2019re you working for Nolan?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLots of Indigs work for Nolan.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, but you\u2019re \u2014 you\u2019ve \u2014 gone native. With the braid and the nimoa pouch and everything.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, hey, that\u2019s cool,\u201d Parker said. \u201cI respect that. You just seem like a good guy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGot me figured out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo why would you do this? I\u2019m just wondering. Why would you help a guy like that? Do something like this?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou broke the law,\u201d Lang said. \u201cBut I\u2019ve got wonderings of my own. For one: why would you steal his speeder? It\u2019s a piece of shit,\u201d he mused. \u201cCan\u2019t even get you off this continent. And you\u2019re a young guy, too young to throw your life away on something like that. Doesn\u2019t make sense. And then when I give you a chance to come along quietly, you draw iron. I could\u2019ve killed you. That was a stupid chance you took, and you took it to escape \u2014 what? Three to five years in the pen?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat what he told you?\u201d Parker was pale again. \u201cThat I stole his \u2014 mister, that speeder is mine!\u201d<\/p>\n

The lump in Lang\u2019s gut got heavier. \u201cThen why\u2019d he put me on your trail?\u201d<\/p>\n

Parker laughed bitterly. \u201cThought you knew,\u201d he said. \u201cI guess he didn\u2019t mention Mrs. Nolan.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere was a picture on his desk\u201d\u00a6 and you\u2019re a fine-looking boy\u201d\u00a6\u201d It made sense.<\/p>\n

Parker rubbed his head. \u201cYou aren\u2019t taking me to three to five years in the pen,\u201d he said. \u201cYou\u2019re taking me to my death.\u201d A somber note crept into his voice. \u201cNever known anyone so lonesome. That prick Nolan\u2019s got no right to treat a lady like that. I was just putting a smile back on her face.\u201d He chuckled. \u201cI\u2019d do it all over again, though. That woman can \u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShuddup! I don\u2019t want to know what she can do!\u201d Lang felt numb. It made sense. Ineluctable sense. But Nolan had logic on his side, too, a heavier, more compelling logic \u2014 the logic of money, of thousands of credits with which to allay the murderers and brigands to whom Lang was indebted. To supply him with the fuel without which his ship would never get off this rock.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat can we do?\u201d he mumbled. \u201cI gotta bring you in. Even if Nolan weren\u2019t paying me, I need chlorate fuel to break gravity, and the Lazy J\u2019s the only place within range where I can get that. I have to go back.\u201d<\/p>\n

Parker sank into a blue study, chin on fist. Lang saw that he would have to do the thinking. \u201cIf that\u2019s your ship, it\u2019s registered to you. So you didn\u2019t steal a thing. I bring you in, tell him that I reported your arrest to Sierra circuit court, you should be safe. Your trial will come up and you\u2019ll be free to go.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWill that work?\u201d Parker asked doubtfully.<\/p>\n

Lang turned it over in his mind. \u201cI don\u2019t see why not. We just make sure your arrest is on the books and make sure Nolan understands that so he can\u2019t make you disappear. There\u2019s no evidence to convict you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI hope so,\u201d Parker said. \u201cI think it\u2019ll work. You seem a smarter fellow than me, and if it sounds good to you, it sounds good to me. I trust you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t \u2014 don\u2019t say that.\u201d Lang pressed a button in Nelly\u2019s cockpit and the cargo door hissed open, revealing a horizontal space just large enough for a full-grown man. \u201cClimb in.\u201d<\/p>\n

A<\/strong><\/span>s Nelly glided across the benighted desert, Lang fired up his interplanetary communicator and dialed the Sierra circuit court.<\/p>\n

\u201cOne George Parker, arrested on charges of grand theft, charges presented by Fitzroy Nolan of Mohav.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t thank you enough, Mister Lang,\u201d Judge Fitch said dryly. \u201cIf only every citizen were as vigilant<\/em> and civic-minded<\/em> as you \u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cStuff it,\u201d Lang said, and clicked off the com. He brought Nelly in low over ranch HQ, buzzing Nolan\u2019s manor house and rattling the windows with the guttural roar of the engines. The flyby brought a crowd to the landing pad, Nolan first among them.<\/p>\n

\u201cGot your boy,\u201d Lang said, opening the cargo bay and hauling Parker out. Parker looked wide-eyed to Nolan, then Lang, his eyes wide with barely contained terror. Nolan\u2019s expression of gloating never wavered. \u201cIt\u2019s fine,\u201d Lang whispered. \u201cYou\u2019re on the books.\u201d Parker nodded dumbly, and Lang shoved him to Nolan. Two of Nolan\u2019s men led him away, leaving Nolan and three of his men. Lang wanted to see Nolan\u2019s smugness curdle on his face. \u201cI took the liberty of reporting his arrest,\u201d Lang said. That should wipe the grin off, he thought.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know,\u201d Nolan said, and Lang\u2019s hands and feet tingled with the first frosty touch of dread.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know\u201d\u00a6\u201d he muttered.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, I know,\u201d Nolan said, voice oily and rich with self-satisfaction. \u201cMy good friend Judge Fitch gave me a call and informed me. Asked whether or not he should take you seriously. I said you were probably stoned on nimoa. You Indigs, you can\u2019t help yourselves.\u201d<\/p>\n

The Coyote felt sick.<\/p>\n

Nolan continued. \u201cNow, I\u2019ve gone ahead and deposited your payment. It\u2019s in your account. I\u2019ll have Chief fuel you up, and you can get out of my sight as soon as possible. Unless there\u2019s something else you want to discuss?\u201d The grin widened.<\/p>\n

Behind the house a pistol cracked. The sound shook every bone in Nolan\u2019s body.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs there anything else?\u201d Nolan said.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Lang said. \u201cNo, I\u2019m just leaving.\u201d<\/p>\n

T<\/strong><\/span>he Coyote wanted oblivion, escape from his senses, a headlong fall down mental stairs. He wanted the stomach-twisting, brain-boiling punch of alcohol. He barely held on through the flight to Saneway Station, and there in the grimy cantina he threw himself into a frenzy of drinking. Men shied away from him, as dogs shy away from their diseased and dying brethren.<\/p>\n

\u201cVaya<\/em>,\u201d Lang said to another man with black hair and grey eyes. \u201cVaya, palsano<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

The man smiled at the traditional greeting despite Lang\u2019s condition. \u201cVaya, palsano<\/em>, countryman. How\u2019s life? What news from Nova Texana?\u201d<\/p>\n

Lang fingered his braid. \u201cWhere\u2019s your taiyo?\u201d he said. \u201cIt\u2019s the duty and privilege of every Texana-loving countryman to wear a taiyo.\u201d<\/p>\n

The Indig stirred uncomfortably. \u201cI got a job,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019m a miner, and the bosses, they don\u2019t take to that sort of \u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re a gutless coward,\u201d Lang slurred. \u201cA motherless, fatherless cur, a dog of a dog, a spineless shitheel.\u201d<\/p>\n

The man\u2019s face hardened, and with an effort he smiled again. \u201cYou\u2019ve had a bit to drink, countryman, you\u2019re out of your senses.\u201d<\/p>\n

Lang spat in his face. The smile vanished, the friendly face clouded with anger, and the Indig rose, knocking over his stool. Lang swayed to his feet. \u201cSonuvabitch,\u201d he snarled. \u201cYou idiot castrated sonuvabitch. No right to live. You got no \u2014 \u201d<\/p>\n

The Indig lashed him with a right hook, catching Lang\u2019s cheekbone and knocking him to the ground. Lang laughed savagely and bit the man\u2019s leg. He cursed and kicked Lang, knocking him against the bar. Lang seized his foot and squeezed, feeling the bones grind against each other. The man howled in pain and kicked again, smashing his foot into Lang\u2019s jaw, grinding Lang\u2019s hand with his heel. Fury now possessed the Indig, and he bunched Lang\u2019s shirt in his hand, hauled him up, and went to work with his free hand, crushing Lang\u2019s nose and marring his face. Lang spat a red glob at him. Disgusted, the man dropped Lang and stalked off, leaving him a bloody and broken-toothed mess on the floor. The Coyote laughed, his laughter big and ragged and not really laughter anymore. \u201cNo right,\u201d he choked. \u201cGot no right.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

This is Jens Rushing’s second tale for SpaceWesterns.com<\/a>. This time he brings us a tale of Lang: The Red Coyote — ed. N.E. Lilly<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":10,"featured_media":543,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[3,5],"tags":[33],"media":[299],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/10"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=21"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1207,"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/21\/revisions\/1207"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/543"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=21"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=21"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=21"},{"taxonomy":"media","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.spacewesterns.com\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?post=21"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}