A fun little stand alone descriptive piece set at around the same time as the forthcoming "Wood For The Trees" by myself and Paul Mitchell. Ernest Pratt runs into an old acquaintance, Katherine Trent, at a social gathering in the mountains. This story just fills in a few more gaps in Trent's character and provides an opportunity for some fun. You can find my other stories featuring Katherine Trent, "Legendary Hunter" and "Dark Double over on Mark Wright's Unofficial Nicodemus Legend Homepage.
Ernest Pratt and the Legend universe belong to Paramount & Gekko but Katherine Trent is mine. This story is written purely for entertainment and no profit is made from it.
Copyright 2000 Sarah O'Donoghue
The view was spectacular: the late summer sun was setting behind the mountains as Katherine sat down at the edge of the vast, still lake. The water was crystal clear and as flawless as a mirror.
A breeze caught her shoulders through her thin dress and she shivered. She drew her cloak tightly around her tall frame and tucked her voluminous skirts under her boots. She hated wearing dresses: in her line of work they were nothing but a hindrance: breeches were far more practical, but on occasional assignments they had proven to be useful: you could hide far more weapons in a dress than a man's suit of clothes.
Parties had never been Katherine Trent's favourite activity. Social gatherings always made her nervous: too many opportunities for someone to stick a knife in your back. This could be a significant danger in her profession. She was a bounty hunter, and one of the best at that. When a sheriff had a criminal he couldn't catch, or a wealthy person wanted someone found, Trent was inevitably the person who was called.
The sky gradually darkened as Trent mused over her latest case. It had taken her three months to catch a multiple murderer who had been wanted in five counties. She had finally caught up with him and the outcome had been very messy and unpleasant. But, she had got her man, and several more thousand dollars to add to her retirement fund, which she sometimes wondered if she would ever have a chance to collect on.
Suddenly she stiffened and slipped her hand under her skirt for the small gun she had tucked into the top of her boot. Someone was approaching from the building behind her. She smiled, taking the safety catch off her gun. Whoever it was should know better than to sneak up on a bounty hunter.
"It's alright, Miss Trent, it's me, Ernest Pratt!" called the voice behind her.
Katherine's mouth curled up in a small smile. "You read my mind, Pratt!, if you hadn't owned up I would've shot you!" she shouted in reply, the soft breeze catching her words away as she turned in her seated position.
By the light of the open doorway behind them she could only see the author dimly as he made his way over to her and sat down at her side.
She glanced across at his weatherworn face in the dim light, augmented now by the moonlight reflected off the lake. "I didn't know old man Peabody had invited you to this thing, Pratt."
"Well, Katherine, an author must be a diplomat if he wants to gain the confidence of the great and the good, " replied the author with a smirk. Seeing Trent's sceptical face he relented, "I know Peabody from my journalist days back in San Francisco. I helped him to solve a case once."
Trent's eyebrow quirked. "I knew you were better than you let on, Pratt. I always had you pegged as a nice guy under the hard drinking and womanising front you keep putting up."
Pratt smiled sheepishly. "Yes, well, let's keep that to ourselves, shall we. I have an image to maintain after all. I leave the derring-do to Nicodemus Legend. He's far better at it than I will ever be."
Trent smiled and turned back to the lake. It really was breathtakingly beautiful. The far shore was swallowed up by an immense forest that crept up the mountain range to the North. The East and West edges of the water were swallowed up in the darkness, but the near shore, illuminated by the gaslights in the house and the full moon was covered in large, square boulders providing natural seats.
Pratt had pulled out a cigar from his jacket and was puffing away quietly.
"So what do you think of the dance, Katherine?" he asked casually.
Trent shrugged. "It's not really my thing," she replied, "but, like you I must sometimes be a diplomat. Peabody had provided me with some very profitable cases and it's useful to keep a client like him on side."
Pratt nodded thoughtfully and pulled out his pocket watch. "Well, it's after ten. I don't think this will go on much after midnight, and I heard that another case of wine was due to be open pretty soon. There may even be some food left." He smiled. "Mother Pratt taught me to never waste food. I think we should go in and help them to finish up what's left. Who knows when two heroes such as ourselves will get another good meal."
Trent tried to scowl but couldn't quite manage it as she replied, "I don't think we need to worry too much about that, Pratt, but," she relented, "It is getting colder out here. I think I'm ready to head back inside."
Pratt knew better than to gallantly offer his coat to Trent; she had proven herself to be his equal on several occasions and he wouldn't patronise her in such a way, so he nodded in agreement, stubbed out the remainder of his cigar and stood. He couldn't resist offering her his arm however, and with a smirk Trent stood and accepted Pratt's gesture, linking arms with him as they returned up the path to the house.
As they entered the house and negotiated the crowd the pair could hear a band beginning to play a fast paced tune. Pratt looked at Trent.
Katherine saw the question in his eyes even before he asked it. "Oh no you don't Pratt!" she warned, but the writer ignored her.
With merriment in his eyes, the author bowed to the most terrifying and respected bounty hunter west of the Mississippi, and dared, "Madam, may I have this dance?"
Trent couldn't help it. She burst out laughing, grabbed Pratt by the arm and dragged him into the next room where couples were beginning to dance. "Come on Pratt," she laughed, "If you're brave enough to ask me you've got more gumption than I thought. Let's show these fancy city people how it should be done!"
And laughing, Pratt whirled Katherine Trent onto the dance floor, the strains of work forgotten. For now there was just good music, good company, and fun.
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