Agents of Comfort and Solace

Posted on Wed Nov 18th, 2020 @ 2:10am by Kindra Graham & Whit
Edited on on Wed Nov 18th, 2020 @ 9:31am

Mission: Six Days to Santo
Location: Caster
Timeline: Day 23

By late morning Kindra found herself in Caster proper.

Mr. and Mrs. Powell had been gracious and generous, and Kindra didn't have the heart to ask Mr. Powell for nail polish remover. Over breakfast, Mrs. Powell had expressed an interest in hot wax, and Kindra had advised her about what kind of candles to buy and introduced them both to a few cortex shopping options. She'd also suggested finding and attending a munch local to Santo, or even to host one themselves. The pair had been so impatient to return to the upstairs room they were calling their dungeon, that Mr. Powell told Kindra to contact their chauffer directly when she found transport off planet, to have her trunks delivered.

She walked into town and entered the first general store she saw. Kindra wore a sleeveless tea-length silk gown, emerald green with practical black boots and a matching dupatta draped around her shoulders. Elegant and befitting of her companion station, but practical considering the dusty and rustic nature of the town. In contrast, the young woman behind the counter was wearing a tank-top and blue-jeans and carried a drooling toddler on her hip.

"Excuse me, ma'am," said Kindra, addressing the apparent shop proprietor politely. "Do you carry nail varnish remover?"

The woman gave Kindra a suspicious and appraising look. "What now?"

Patiently, Kindra explained. "Nail varnish, or nail polish. It's a lacquer that people paint on their fingernails and toenails for decoration. A solvent is needed to remove it."

"Honey, if you're wantin' to paint liquor on your fingers 'n' toes, head on down to the tavern." The toddler wiped his nose on the woman's shoulder.

Kindra smiled politely and turned to leave, but nearly collided with a lean older man with salt-and-pepper hair. "Pardon me, sir."

"Nay, for it is I who must humbly beg your pardon." The man bent at the waist and flourished his hand in the air as if he were a carriage footman. "Never let it be said Ol' Whit stood between a lady and her exit." His eyebrows flashed with a friendly waggle. "That would be Yours Truly. Might I inquire your name?"

Her eyebrow arched in amusement, then she saw his collar. Although in her experience shepherds were as likely to hire a companion as anyone else with the required funds, often enough shepherds made it their business to disparage her business. This was a small town, and even though owning her vocation might result in trouble she said, "My name is Kindra Graham. Companion Kindra Graham. Did you say your name is Whit?"

"Only to my friends," he quipped with quick wink of his left eye. "Lookin' like you might could use one, seein' how that clerk up there was no help and seein' how Caster doesn't have any resident Companions. Would you fancy a gentleman's escort to your next stop, Miss Graham?" Whit raised his arm and offered his elbow to walk arm-in-arm, along with a sunny smile.

Kindra smiled warmly, relieved to be greeted with acceptance rather than small-town censure. She shifted her bag to the other side – though most of what she carried of value was not in it - and took his offered arm. She was not convinced that his stated intention was motivated purely by the kindness of his heart, and yet she appreciated an interesting guide. "Thank you very much indeed, Shepherd Whit." As they stepped out into the sunshine, she asked, "Do you know of any other shops in town that might carry nail varnish remover?"

"Aye," Whit said, beaming even wider as Kindra took his arm. He led her outside and down the narrow boardwalk. "Tack shop down yonder oughtta' have some, I reckon. Main use would be for cleanin' horse hooves, but... " His tone kept its levity, but the side-eye glance he gave her was a loaded one. "... what's good for the goose is good for the gander." The twinkle in his eye came back as he offered a joke. "Not to liken you to a horse or goose, anyhow. We're all the Good Lord's creatures."

"We are indeed," Kindra responded with good nature to the unflattering but apt comparison. Having grown up on an estate with horses, it seemed unlikely to her that a lacquer solvent would be used on horse hooves. But unlike individual merchants in cities who stocked a narrow range of products, shopkeepers in these rural towns would carry anything they thought they could sell. Walking arm-in-arm with Whit toward the tack shop, she asked, "How long have you been Caster's shepherd? You must know your flock well."

The question made Whit chuckle loud and long. "Oh, my dear, I am but a sojourner passing through myself. The local shepherd is a fine enough fella'. Folk could do worse than him." His voice carried a subtle shift in tone that suggested he had seen many an example of 'worse'. "Been in Caster lookin' after an old friend. Brother, really, a brother-in-arms. A lost sheep, one could go so far to say. Turns out he's a'moved on." Looking down at the slightly shorter Companion, Whit asked, "So what about you? Got some traveling ahead or are you lookin' to set down roots 'round these parts?"

"Roots? Not at all," Kindra chuckled at the prospect. Despite his salt-and-pepper hair and slouch, there was a sturdiness to the man and a wiry strength to his arm in her grasp. A shepherd, but not this town's shepherd. Kindra nearly asked if a'moved on was a euphemism for dead, but prying wouldn't be a kindness. "As it happens, Shepherd Whit, I do have some traveling ahead of me. What do you know about Caster's dockyard? I'm hoping to book transport off planet."

Whit shook his head with a disapproving grunt. "No place for a lady, that much I can tell you. 'Taint much place for a Shepherd, neither, by some reckoning. What say we look for a suitable transport together? Don't know where you're headed, but my next stop is lookin' to be Ghost."

"I don't have a specific destination in mind at the moment, other than away from Santo. Not that there's anything wrong with Santo. Usually I can pursue my vocation anywhere in the 'verse with a penchant for civilization." She thought a moment. "Ghost… Isn't that a rim planet in the Kalidasa system? What calls you there, Shepherd?"

A bell on the tack shop door rang as she opened it. The place smelled of leather, grain, and horse sweat, the goods on display spanned a range of animal husbandry, from harnesses to feed. A boy of perhaps ten or eleven poked his head out from behind a curtain, then disappeared. Kindra heard indistinct voices speaking.

"Still looking for that lost sheep I mentioned a'fore." The man smiled as he spoke, but a temporary chill flushed behind his eyes. "The Good Shepherd leaves the 99 to find the one, as the Good Book says."

Warmth returned to his eyes as he called upon the hired help. "Pardon us lowly patrons, but we're in need of anything with acetone. Much obliged!"

The boy returned and eyed Kindra up and down with an interest that caused her to add two or three years to her estimate of his age. "Pa's busy and Ma's shoein' a horse out back. I can be a'helpin' ya. What'd ya say you was wantin'?"

"I'd like to buy nail varnish remover, or a small amount – less than fifty mils - of solvent. Preferably acetone, but turpentine might do. Something to remove paint that isn't water-based," said Kindra, speaking to him as though he were an adult. "Do you have anything like that?"

"Nail varnish remover? We did." The boy looked at Whit, seemed to come to a decision, and took two steps closer to Kindra. In a conspiratorial whisper, he said, "Folks up t' manor house specially ordered a whole dozen bottles o' that stuff. Delivered it m'self three days past. You'd be one of them companions right? You know what they's a usin' it fer?"

"I've no idea," Kindra lied. She hesitated a moment, considering the potential consequence of youthful imagination combined with ignorance. She rested her hand on the boy's shoulder and told a partial lie. "I can assure you it's nothing of a sexual nature. Solvents should only be applied to fingernails and toenails to remove paint. Nowhere else. Understand?"

The emphasis given to Kindra's admonition made Whit chuckle and cock his head in incredulous wonder at why it had to be expressed with such adamant certainty.

"Best listen to the lady, son." Whit winked at the boy before guiding Kindra away. "And looks like we'd best look elsewhere."

"It's kind of you to accompany me, Whit." Kindra took his arm and allowed him to lead her out of the shop.

When they left the tack shop, it was plain to see that a fight had broken out at the local saloon. Whit paused for just a moment as he watched the sheriff frogmarch someone out in bonds.

Kindra gasped, unable to take her eyes off the bound man. Alden.

"Well, I'll be..." he trailed off. "Alden Loxley, what have you gotten yourself into?"

Momentary shock was replaced with surprise, and Kindra returned her attention to Whit. "You know him too? Most likely his trouble involves a woman." She sighed, and regarded the compelling sight of over six feet of complication getting manhandled away by the law. "I'll be seeing what I can do to get him out of trouble. Care to join me, Shepherd?"

"I'd be much obliged to," Whit said, "seeing as how that man was supposed to be my ride off this rock."